In a historic oral argument today, the U.S. Supreme Court appeared likely to overturn a state court ruling barring former President Donald Trump from its primary ballot.

No U.S. court had ever issued such a decision. Then, in December the Colorado Supreme Court ruled that Mr. Trump – the current front-runner for the Republican presidential nomination – is disqualified by Section 3 of the 14th Amendment. That provision, adopted in the aftermath of the Civil War, holds that no one who “engages in insurrection” against the United States can hold public office.

The case argued today, Trump v. Anderson, poses a simple question: Did the Colorado Supreme Court err in its ruling? On the evidence of two hours of often skeptical questioning, it appears that a majority of the high court believes the Colorado decision should be overturned.

But on what grounds?

The Colorado Supreme Court held that Section 3 applies to Mr. Trump because of his actions on Jan. 6, 2021, when a mob of his supporters attacked the U.S. Capitol to try to halt the certification of electoral votes naming Joe Biden president. It also cited Mr. Trump’s efforts to cling to power, claiming that the election he lost was “stolen” from him. But during oral argument, the justices – even the constitutional originalists – were more interested in the future than in past events. Namely, what could be the potential downstream effects of ruling that a single state can unilaterally disqualify a candidate in a nationwide election?

Chief Justice John Roberts noted that if they upheld the Colorado ruling, there would “surely” be other proceedings to disqualify other presidential candidates, some of which would succeed.

“It’ll come down to just a handful of states that are going to decide the presidential election” by barring certain candidates, he added. “That’s a pretty daunting consequence.”

“‘President’ is not there”

Justice Clarence Thomas noted that, since Section 3 was ratified in 1868, it hasn’t been applied to many federal offices. Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, meanwhile, questioned whether the framers of Section 3 envisioned it being used in the context of a national election. The text of the provision, she added, lists specific offices it covers – including in Congress and in state government – but doesn’t mention the presidency. 

Wasn’t Section 3 “about preventing the South from rising again in the context of these local elections, as opposed to focusing on the presidency?” she asked. “The thing that really is troubling to me is ... they were listing people that were barred and ‘president’ is not there.”

Other justices raised practical concerns with this potential outcome. Different states have different rules around election disputes. When Section 3 cases are raised in different states, their state courts may have different procedural rules.

Jose Luis Magana/AP

People wait outside the U.S. Supreme Court to hear oral argument on Thursday in former President Donald Trump’s appeal of a Colorado Supreme Court ruling that he cannot appear on the state's ballot because he “engaged in insurrection,” in violation of the 14th Amendment.

“Suppose we have two different records, two different bodies of evidence, two different rulings on admissibility, two different standards of proof,” asked Justice Samuel Alito. “I’m not getting a whole lot of help from you about how this would not be an unmanageable situation.”

The “you” he was referring to is Jason Murray, the attorney for the Anderson litigants and the target of many of these questions from the high court.

Mr. Murray argued that whatever states may choose to do, Section 3 provides a “democratic safety valve” for disqualified candidates by empowering Congress to lift that disqualification with a two-thirds vote.

And while states have broad power over how they can run national elections – including how they apply Section 3 – Mr. Murray argued the Supreme Court has the authority to create nationwide standards for states to follow, just as it does with other constitutional provisions. Congress could also pass a law setting such standards.

The reason there aren’t any uniform guidelines already, he added, is because there have been so few “insurrections” in American history. But many of the justices seemed eager to avoid any colloquy related to the violence on Jan. 6 itself.

“There’s a reason Section 3 has been dormant for 150 years, and it’s because we haven’t had anything like Jan. 6 since Reconstruction,” Mr. Murray told Chief Justice Roberts.

“It seems to me you’re avoiding the question,” the chief justice replied. If the court upholds the Colorado decision, he continued, “we would have to develop rules for what constitutes an insurrection.”

“Why would that rule exist?”

The justices spent a bit more time on the question of whether Section 3 covers the presidency. The provision explicitly bars someone from being a member of Congress, an elector of the president and vice president, or holding an “office ... under the United States,” as well as anyone who has previously taken an oath to support the Constitution as an “officer of the United States.”

Jonathan Mitchell, the attorney representing Mr. Trump, argued neither of the catchall terms “office” and “officer” applies to the president. “It’s clear from the constitutional text that there are officers that do not hold offices under the United States,” he said.

“From original understanding, or a textualist perspective, [how can] those two terms, so closely related, carry such different weight?” asked Justice Neil Gorsuch, perhaps the court’s most avid textual stickler.

Justice Sonia Sotomayor, meanwhile, noted that if Section 3 did cover “officers,” it would cover almost every president in history except Mr. Trump, since he’s the only one who didn’t previously serve as a different “officer.”

“Why would that rule exist?” asked Justice Elena Kagan. “Is there any better reason for saying that an insurrectionist cannot hold a whole panoply of offices in the United States, but we’re perfectly fine with that insurrectionist being president?”

Yet while some justices voiced concerns about excluding the presidency, and Mr. Trump, from Section 3, the court’s overriding concern seemed to be the potential for nationwide electoral confusion if it upholds the Colorado Supreme Court’s ruling.

Late in the argument, Shannon Stevenson, the Colorado solicitor general, argued that the Constitution gives states broad discretion in how they can run federal elections. States could fashion different processes for Section 3 cases, she argued, but states already do that for other election cases.

But this is not a normal election case, noted Justice Alito. “We’ve been told that if what Colorado did here is sustained, other states are going to retaliate,” he added. “What about that situation?”

“I think we have to have faith in our system,” replied Ms. Stevenson. “We have institutions in place to handle those types of allegations.”

“What are those institutions?” asked Justice Alito.

“Our states, their own electoral rules, the administrators who enforce those rules, the courts that will review those decisions,” she replied, “and up to this court to ultimately review that decision.”

Pop quiz: Name this country.

It’s a presidential election year in one of the world’s richest and most advanced nations, high in political freedom and with a relatively democratic spread of incomes. Elections are very closely fought, but the vast majority of people believe most of their compatriots can be trusted to do the right thing most of the time, and they have strong confidence both in their news media and in their government.

Finland? Of course.

But this was also the United States in 1960.

The America of three generations ago had one of the world’s highest levels of social trust. Three out of 4 Americans in 1960 said they trusted the national government to do the right thing at least most of the time. And it wasn’t a partisan phenomenon. That was under a Republican president. But the trust level actually peaked at 77%, for both Black and white Americans, in 1964, when a Democrat was in the White House.

Could the U.S. ever reclaim that level of unity and of trust in government, trust in media, trust in key institutions, and trust in each other?

Certainly it would be a long climb. Last year, trust in government was at 16%, and it now has a deep partisan tilt. American trust is low across the board, but it’s two to three times lower among those whose favored political party does not occupy the White House.

In the current election season, Americans are divided not just over the candidates and political values they support, but over alternative realities. Was the 2020 election stolen, or was that very claim an attempt to steal it? Is the leading contender so corrupt and venal that he’s facing numerous felony trials (and civil suits) at once, or is the justice system so politicized that it has weaponized prosecutors to try to take him out?

On each side, the answers seem obvious, almost beyond dispute. What they both agree on is that their core values and rights are at risk and that democracy itself hangs in the balance.

Many scholars say that the American parties are as divided as they’ve been since the Civil War.

AP/File

A group of women marches down Chicago's Michigan Avenue in a Young Republican parade July 24, 1960.

Over the course of our Rebuilding Trust project, the Monitor will look at trust through many different lenses. This article seeks to sketch a broad picture of the state of trust in public life in the U.S. and elsewhere in the world – and why it matters.

Understanding the trust problem

Let’s start with what’s not happening:

• Low political trust is not about President Joe Biden, and it’s not even about Donald Trump. Few politicians have ever had Mr. Trump’s instincts for making distrust and division work for him, and trust in government is near its lowest point now under Mr. Biden. Yet neither leader has moved the trend line much. Trust has bounced around the 20% level since the beginning of the Obama administration. It dipped to 15% in 2011, to 17% all the way back in 1994, and to 27% in 1980. It was from 1964 to 1980 – spanning the Johnson, Nixon, Ford, and Carter eras – that trust plummeted by two-thirds and never significantly bounced back.

• To a striking degree, partisan division in the U.S. is not about anything. Certainly, many Americans feel strongly about abortion rights, immigration, high prices, and many other issues. But the issues have become secondary for Americans who personally identify with the team that shares their basic values. Partisanship is increasingly personal, emotional, and negative – more about defeating the other team than, say, solving a national problem.

“If anything,” says Samara Klar, a political scientist at the University of Arizona in Tucson, “Democrats and Republicans overlap more than ever on the issues. But they’re more hostile to the other party.”

All this, political scientist Lilliana Mason wrote in an influential 2018 paper, “is likely to lead to a less compromise-oriented electorate. After all, if policy outcomes are less important than team victory, a policy compromise is a useless concession to the enemy.”

• Support for political violence is not nearly as high as most Americans think it is. A survey last fall found that 23% of Americans agreed that “patriots may have to resort to violence in order to save” the country. That included 33% of Republicans and 13% of Democrats. In the wake of the Jan. 6, 2021, storming of Congress, that may not feel like an idle threat. 

Joy Asico/Courage for America/AP/File

Naveed Shah, political director of Common Defense, calls on Republicans to condemn political violence ahead of the Jan. 6 anniversary of the storming of Congress, Jan. 5, 2022, in Washington.

But note that 27 years ago in 1997, the Pew Research Center did a massive study on political distrust in America and found that an even higher 27% said violence against the government could be justified. The political atmosphere may have changed since then, but it’s not clear that opinions about violence have shifted in decades.

And when these views are probed further, researchers find them vastly overstated. Sean Westwood, director of the Polarization Research Center at Dartmouth College, found in a 2022 study that support for violence was overestimated by a factor of six. He put the actual level at about 2.9%.

• Americans don’t have an accurate picture of people in the other party. When people picture partisans for the other side, they picture the most polarizing politicians. And political leaders have indeed become more partisan and extreme over the decades. “But have the people moved with them?” asks Yphtach Lelkes, a political scientist at the University of Pennsylvania. “The consensus is no.”

“Most Democrats and most Republicans are ideologically moderate,” says Dr. Klar. They are more concerned about the price of groceries, gas, and rent than inflamed by culture wars. But the most informed and engaged people tend to be the most partisan. And these are the people, says Dr. Klar, “that most people can’t stand.”

Americans also think the opposing party supports anti-democratic moves more than twice as much as it actually does, according to a 2022 study in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. When people are shown polling data that corrects this overestimate, their own support for anti-democratic measures drops by more than a third.

• Americans don’t actually hate people on the other side. Researchers have famously asked Americans if they would object to their children marrying someone from the other political party. In 1960, some 4% said they would object. In 2010, half of Republicans and a third of Democrats said they would be unhappy. Partisanship has become that personal.

But further studies have found that if the question specifies that the new in-law rarely talks about politics, then about half of the objection goes away. Many may in fact prefer an out-party in-law who leaves the subject alone to a same-party in-law who likes to talk politics. Though people really do cast a deep scorn on the other side’s political leaders and outspoken partisans.

• Americans overall and over time are not becoming more extreme or further apart on the issues. Yes, polls show Democrats and Republicans have moved further apart on issues from immigration to abortion. But this is less from people changing their positions and more about people changing parties. Parties used to be more ideologically blended, with conservative Democrats and liberal Republicans. But since the 1960s, conservatives have been migrating to the Republican fold and liberals to the Democratic camp. Party ranks are now more ideologically consistent, and distinct from each other.

• Americans are not losing trust across the board. Trust in local government is as high as it was in 1960. And it’s not just that it’s closer to home. In those days, trust in the federal government was actually higher than in local government. Trust in the military runs high in both parties and has actually risen in recent decades. Small business also has a high level of bipartisan confidence, in sharp contrast to big business and Big Tech.

• Eroding trust is not just an American problem. Most affluent countries are struggling with some degree of falling trust. But it’s not a universal problem, either. Denmark, Norway, Finland, the Netherlands, New Zealand, and Switzerland have been the most-trusted governments by their citizens for decades, and trust continues to run at very high levels.

• Lost trust does not have to stay lost. Ireland was a relatively high-trust country in its “Celtic Tiger” period before it plummeted in the financial crash of 2008. Since then, the share of Irish who say they are satisfied with their democracy has more than doubled and is now higher than before the crash.

• Even democratic decline is not an irreversible wave. On Jan. 14, Guatemala inaugurated a president popularly elected on an anti-corruption platform after months of assassination threats, the attempted arrest of his vice president-elect, and nonstop challenges to the legitimacy of the vote up to the day of inauguration. Guatemala is one of the most corrupt and dysfunctional governments in the world, and President Bernardo Arévalo doesn’t have many tools for changing that. But it’s a step.

Morry Gash/AP/File

Protesters in the Wisconsin Capitol rotunda demand the state overturn its near total ban on abortion, Jan. 22, 2023, in Madison.

A few weeks earlier, Donald Tusk returned to his former role as prime minister of Poland, which had been slipping in measures of democracy in recent years under the tight dominance of the Law and Justice party. The party had been steadily asserting greater political control over the judiciary branch as well as the news media. Mr. Tusk represents a coalition of more democratic parties that together outpolled Law and Justice in fall elections. This represents progress for European Union leaders worried about Poland’s direction.

What do high-trust countries look like?

Trust is the basic glue that binds civil society together – from driving safely through traffic and conducting business to ensuring that the military follows the orders of its unarmed civilian commanders and that Supreme Court rulings are not ignored. It’s what keeps us respecting the rules even when we lose. 

Trust scholar Eric Uslaner of the University of Maryland, College Park defines social trust as “a belief that other people, especially people unlike yourself, are part of your moral community.”

Social trust is closely tied to optimism – the confidence that people can usually find a way to move forward against problems. And trust in government is closely tied to both. Some high-trust countries – such as China, Singapore, and Saudi Arabia – score low on democracy but high on economic progress over the past generation.

So what is different about highest-trust democracies?

• They have no high-level, systemic corruption. The top high-trust countries are a clean sweep of the top spots on Transparency International’s rankings of corruption as perceived by both the public and business leaders, with Denmark currently on top. The U.S. ranks 24th, down 10 places since 2000.

• They feel economically fair. The highest-trust countries are those with the highest levels of economic mobility – the ease of moving into higher or lower income groups. Denmark again tops the World Economic Forum’s Global Social Mobility Index, followed by the other Nordic countries, the Netherlands, and Switzerland. The U.S. ranks 27th. About 15% of children born to Danish parents in the poorest one-fifth of the population rise to join the highest-earning fifth. In the U.S., about 8% of children rise that far.

• They’re welfare states. These same countries have generous social safety nets. Denmark pays out about double what the U.S. does, per person, in public spending, not including military and debt interest. Denmark’s total tax burden as a share of gross domestic product is also nearly twice as high as the American. But surveys show that their citizens, more than anywhere else, have confidence in how their tax dollars are being spent.

• They have more than two political parties. “Two-party systems tend to breed conflict,” says Viktor Valgardsson of the University of Southampton in England. Multiple parties are forced to join coalitions with others to form governments and work out common ground.

“There is lots of evidence that multiparty countries have less polarization,” says Dr. Lelkes.

• Diversity may be a challenge. Their demographics are homogeneous and stable. Even in Belgium and Switzerland, which each is shaped by distinct language and cultural groups, the diversity is structured and long established. “They seem to function well,” notes Dr. Valgardsson.

Jacob Ehrbahn/POLFOTO/AP/File

A homeless man sleeps in Copenhagen. Denmark's social safety net is one reason the disparity between the richest citizens and everyone else is second-smallest among the world's 34 most developed economies, according to the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development.

But Americans have a much more dynamic population mix, growing by the year, in which non-Hispanic white people will no longer be a majority in about two decades. The largest immigrant group, Hispanics usually have more confidence in the U.S. government than either white or Black Americans. Asians tend to register higher trust as well. So the newest Americans appear to bring a slightly higher level of optimism with them. 

Many lessons that the world’s high-trust nations may hold will not find an easy fit in the U.S. Scandinavians on average are liberal pragmatists who want a society that guarantees equality of opportunity and sets up safety nets for those in need, and surveys indicate they are largely getting what they want.

Americans think differently, explains Wayne Baker, a sociologist at the University of Michigan who has studied trust and values in a global context. They tend to prefer limited government, distrust authority, and hold strong, often moralistic, religious beliefs. Of all the high-income countries in the world, only Ireland and the U.S. are as grounded in traditional religious values. And unlike other religiously grounded countries, mostly poor or developing, the U.S. has robustly embraced the rich-country values of self-expression and personal fulfillment.

As a result of this tension, this nearly unique mix of traditional and progressive orientations, “Americans think about the meaning and purpose of life more frequently than in almost all economically advanced countries,” Dr. Baker says.

These days, Americans seem to be having a difficult, emotionally charged national conversation about the shape of their moral universe and who owes what to whom. Surveys would indicate that they don’t think they’re having it very productively. Maybe even counterproductively. The number who disapprove of both parties is at an all-time high. They’re not trusted, either.

The American experiment, says Dr. Baker, “is being sorely tested now. We’ve weathered major difficulties and differences before, and I think we will manage through this one, but it’s not inevitable that we will.”

Kelvin Boyes/Reuters

A meeting of the legislative assembly takes place at Stormont in Belfast, Northern Ireland, Feb. 3, 2024.

The contrast between Northern Ireland’s parliamentary decorum and the violence engulfing Gaza 2,500 miles away could not have been more striking.

Yet the historic session in Belfast’s assembly last weekend had a powerful message for U.S., European, Arab, and other world leaders seeking not just a cease-fire in Gaza but also a path toward eventual Israeli-Palestinian peace.

It was that peace is possible, even in the most seemingly intractable conflicts. And that Northern Ireland’s experience – decades of sectarian killing and years of failed peace efforts, crowned finally by a breakthrough requiring compromise on all sides – could hold lessons for would-be peacemakers in the Middle East.

Last Saturday’s proceedings in Northern Ireland’s Parliament Buildings would have been unthinkable before the 1998 Good Friday Agreement, which ended the civil war there.

The paramilitary violence pitted the province’s Protestant majority, intent on remaining part of Britain, against a Catholic minority striving to reunite with Catholic Ireland. A large British army force was brought in to try to rein in the violence.

Yet since then, the Catholics have gradually become a slight majority. In the last election, Sinn Fein, the political arm of the Catholic paramilitaries during the fighting, won the most seats.

So in an unprecedented turn of political events, a Sinn Fein leader was being sworn in as first minister, with the Protestants’ Democratic Unionist Party filling the unfamiliar role of deputy first minister.

Kelvin Boyes/Reuters

Newly elected First Minister Michelle O'Neill speaks during a meeting of the Northern Ireland Assembly at Stormont in Belfast, Feb. 3, 2024.

Still, the mood was conciliatory. Both new ministers vowed to work together for the good of all communities.

That may have been partly because the architecture of post-Good Friday Agreement government requires the support of both ministers – both communities – for any government decision. Yet it also reflected a new reality: Neither community wants a return to the bad old days.

So are there implications for the similarly intractable Israeli-Palestinian conflict?

While the mere fact of Northern Ireland’s peace could offer hope, the more immediately relevant lessons may lie in how, after many failed efforts, the 1998 agreement was ultimately achieved.

Centuries of tension

The Northern Ireland dispute, like the Middle East conflict, has deep historical roots.

It grew out of centuries of Anglo-Irish tension, escalating into all-out war early in the 20th century. At the end of that fighting, in 1921, Ireland secured independence, but its northeasternmost provinces were hived off into the separate territory of Northern Ireland, tying the then-majority-Protestant population to London.

The decades of violence, beginning in the 1960s, were driven by two incompatible, and apparently irreconcilable, visions: for Protestants, permanent union with Britain; for Catholics, a locally disadvantaged minority, a reunited Ireland.

As in the efforts to resolve Israel’s conflict with the Palestinians, cease-fires were agreed to and broken along the way. There were also efforts to reach a political solution, including one in 1973 containing many elements of the Good Friday Agreement a quarter century later.

There were important reasons the 1998 effort succeeded where others had faltered.

Melanie Stetson Freeman/Staff/File

British soldiers search a pedestrian walking through a Catholic neighborhood off Donegal and Falls roads in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in April 1988. The soldiers combed the area for 13 hours in search of guns and bombs.

The context of the conflict had changed dramatically. Both Catholic and Protestant paramilitaries had come to realize that they could not achieve by force what they wanted politically. The British government was explicitly looking for a way to disengage its troops as well. 

The negotiators also came to recognize that resolving some of the most emotive issues – the fate of jailed paramilitaries, for instance, and the decommissioning of weapons and explosives – meant they had to secure the buy-in of the paramilitaries themselves.

Finally, extraordinary political tenacity and leadership were required – ultimately from Northern Ireland’s political leaders, but no less importantly from then-British Prime Minister Tony Blair and Ireland’s former head of government, Bertie Ahern. And, critically, from an outside player: U.S. President Bill Clinton, intervening both personally and through special envoy George Mitchell, who drew on trust from all sides to help navigate issues like arms decommissioning, steer the talks, and bring them across the finish line.

The problem for Middle East peacemakers is that there, the context hasn’t shown signs of change. Far from concluding that violence won’t achieve their aims, ever since Hamas’ kidnappings and killings on Oct. 7, both sides seem to believe there’s no alternative.

AP/File

British Prime Minister Tony Blair (right), U.S. Sen. George Mitchell (center), and Irish Prime Minister Bertie Ahern pose after they signed the Good Friday Agreement for peace in Northern Ireland, April 10, 1998. The Good Friday Agreement is the landmark peace accord that ended three decades of violence in Northern Ireland, a period known as the Troubles.

Some potential hope, however, may lie in the example of the Good Friday Agreement’s reliance on resolute outside support – in the case of Israel and the Palestinians, from the Biden administration and the Arab partners it has been enlisting to help present a credible political alternative. 

As Northern Ireland has shown, that carries the potential to prove transformative.

Catholics and Protestants still profoundly disagree about the province’s future. Though no longer killing each other, they are not greatly more integrated with, or more trustful of, each other than they were before 1998.

Still, there has been fundamental change. In her remarks last Saturday, Sinn Fein’s new first minister, Michelle O’Neill, described herself as part of the “Good Friday” generation.

She said the years of war, and the thousands of victims on all sides, shouldn’t be forgotten. “The past cannot be changed or undone.”

But in sentiments echoed by her Protestant fellow minister, she added, “What we can do is build a better future.”

Toby Melville/Reuters/File

A bus with passengers crosses London Bridge during the morning rush hour, March 10, 2023. A group of academics and transport officials chose 150 London buses and placed stickers on the windows prompting passengers to say “hi” and “thank you.” The signs bumped interactions between drivers and passengers about 30%.

It’s tough to ask people for money.

As a London bus driver, Maurice must shepherd passengers who try to dodge the card reader. His requests have drawn expletives and aggression. 

“More people want to fight lately because they don’t have money [to pay the fare],” says Maurice, who declined to give his last name for privacy reasons. “There’s a cost-of-living crisis. ... It’s gotten worse.”

So when a group of academics and transport officials tried to improve driver-passenger relations, Maurice was skeptical. The research group chose 150 London buses and placed stickers on the windows prompting passengers to say “hi” and “thank you.” For several months, it stationed observers to watch for changes.  

After the signs went up, more people acknowledged Graham Nelson, who steers the No. 211 between Hammersmith and Waterloo. Some even said thank you.

“It’s not life-changing, but it does make you feel better,” says Mr. Nelson, who’s been a bus driver for about a decade. “It’s normally pretty grim.”

More people did say hello overall after the signs went up, bumping interactions between drivers and passengers about 30%. That’s significant enough that researchers believe these methods could be deployed elsewhere to promote stronger social connection.

Essential workers come across so many people on a day-to-day basis, and they present huge, untapped potential for connection, says Grainne O’Dwyer, senior program manager of Neighbourly Lab, a research nonprofit that partnered on the study.

“Small interactions matter, and they are a bedrock on which you can build,” says Ms. O’Dwyer. “Communities can support themselves if they’re more resilient and work together, and feel they have someone to rely on. ... There’s lots of value in social connection.”

Lenora Chu

Passengers board bus No. 211 in central London. Graham Nelson, the driver, says signs encouraging passengers to say “hello” and “thank you” have had an effect. “It’s not life-changing, but it does make you feel better,” says Mr. Nelson, who’s been a bus driver for about a decade. “It’s normally pretty grim.”

Pat Engele has taught her children to acknowledge their bus driver since they were practically in diapers.

“They’re everyday people like the rest of us, and it just makes the job a lot easier if someone greets you in the morning,” says Ms. Engele. “When we get off, we say thank you.”

Over the years, her boys have gotten to know the drivers on the route between home and school. “We have a rapport with them,” she says. “We’ve built that relationship over the years – my eldest is 16.”

Imagine if people developed similar rapport elsewhere in their community, says Ms. O’Dwyer of Neighbourly Lab.

A shopkeeper might see 100 or 200 people come through their door every day. A street sweeper might walk past 300 people. A grocery store worker will see even more. These are all networks of untapped potential, she says.

“There’s growing evidence that social connection has value,” says Ms. O’Dwyer. “It’s also just a very basic human need to say, ‘I feel respected. I feel seen.’ And very simple nudges that you can put in context that can have a big, big impact.”

Like the sign on the bus, for example. In that study, the stickers were installed on driver entry and exit doors on buses across London. Just reminding passengers to greet the drivers prompted 140 million more interactions between drivers and passengers, says Ms. O’Dwyer, whose study was jointly undertaken by Transport for London and the University of Sussex.

What’s next for behavioral scientists is to figure out what makes such interactions so rare. The “reward circuitry” of the brain encourages connection, says Nicholas Epley, a behavioral scientist and psychologist at the University of Chicago.

“If you feel better saying hi to your bus driver, why don’t people do it more?” asks Dr. Epley.

Society shapes how one is expected to interact in public. But there’s also the fear of the unknown, says Dr. Epley.

“Reaching out – it’s a little like going into the ocean when there could be sharks. Our brains aren’t very good at handling uncertainty. Even a small dose of it can cause us to be reluctant to do things,” he says.

Dr. Epley calls this disconnect a “fundamental paradox at the core of human life.”

“We’re happier and healthier when we reach out and engage with other people. And yet in so many parts of daily life, we seem reluctant,” he says. “And that’s a real puzzle.”

Ultimately, to be successful in life – as a person, a government, an economy, or a society – one must be constantly cooperating. And that relies on trust, says Dr. Epley.

Driving a car without crashing into another depends on everyone following the rules, for example. Feelings such as guilt or remorse that prompt a morality toward others also help prompt cooperation among nonkin, he explains.

“That is so important for our success and our survival on this planet, that it’s built into us as an evolutionary mechanism,” says Dr. Epley.

As for Maurice back at the Hammersmith bus station, as he takes a break between shifts, he doesn’t mind the hellos. But what he’d really like? “Wages. More money.”

AP

People in Dakar, Senegal, protest last May against the possibility of President Macky Sall running for a third term in the next elections.

In a year shaped by elections in at least 64 countries, there will be fresh material for measuring the global health of democracy. In one West African country, a ballot crisis reveals exactly what that health rests on.

On Feb. 3, President Macky Sall of Senegal postponed elections due later this month, citing allegations of corruption by the judicial body that determines the eligibility of candidates. His decision marks the first time that Africa’s most successful model of the peaceful transfer of power – four since 1960 – may be broken. It raises concerns of further erosion of legitimate governance on a continent beset by multiple military coups in recent years.

Yet within Senegalese society, Mr. Sall’s move has prompted a diverse and robust response shaped by strong traditions of dialogue, dignity, and the democratic rule of law. Civil society groups and trade unions launched a new platform today called Let’s Protect Our Election. Young Senegalese are reenergizing a movement launched by rappers and journalists a decade ago to promote peaceful civic participation.

Opposition candidates, meanwhile, are turning to the courts, despite a weakening of judicial independence in recent years. Rather than demonizing the president, some have accepted his call for dialogue with an assumption of good faith.

“Macky Sall was a beacon of hope,” Khalifa Sall (no relation), a presidential candidate and former mayor of Dakar, told Le Monde. “We believe that [he] is endowed with reason. We don’t despair that he will recover it.” In power since 2012, the president is constitutionally barred from seeking a third term.

The defenses of Senegalese democracy run deep. “The tradition of associations is deeply entrenched in Senegalese culture,” reflected in a legal environment that encourages civic participation, notes the Washington-based International Center for Not-For-Profit Law. A mutually reinforcing set of expectations – “transmitting values” – endures between the government and armed forces that is rare in Africa.

“We can’t emphasize enough soldiers understanding their role and place in society and of respect for civilian authority,” an army colonel told the Africa Center for Security Studies in December. “But ... military professionalism must be balanced by civilian professionalism on the other side of the scale.”

Collectively, civil society and Senegal’s democratic institutions have brushed back earlier attempts to thwart the country’s constitutional norms – in 2012, when then-President Abdoulaye Wade tried to seek a third term, and again last July, when Mr. Sall considered a similar move. A disputed or derailed election now, the Institute of War Studies observed Wednesday, could exacerbate the grievances of Senegalese youth over lack of economic opportunity.

Yet an underlying confidence endures. As the polling group Afrobarometer confirmed this week, while the proportion of Senegalese citizens who express satisfaction with the way democracy works in their country has fallen 24% during Mr. Sall’s tenure, 84% nonetheless say they prefer democracy over any other system. 

“A country must be built on dialogue because it is dialogue that builds a country,” said Imam El Hadj Malick Niang, during an interfaith rally for peace and democracy last year.

Relying on that wisdom now, the people of Senegal can show that the health of their democracy depends as much on their own actions as on those of their elected leaders.