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Rousseau did not believe that representative democracy was democratic. “The people of England regards itself as free; but it is grossly mistaken; it is free only during the election of members of Parliament. As soon as they are elected, slavery overtakes it, and it is nothing,” the French theorist wrote in his 1762 treatise, Social Contract. According to Rousseau, the will of the people cannot be truly expressed when mediated by representatives—it has to be voiced directly. 

In 2016, the United Kingdom voted in a referendum to leave the European Union—but did not vote on the terms of the exit, nor on its relationship with the EU once it left. After much negotiation, the Conservative-led British government under Prime Minister Theresa May has finally reached a deal regarding these particulars—a deal few are enthusiastic about. Anti-Brexit groups, the Scottish National Party, the Labour party, and even some Conservative members of Parliament have now raised the possibility of a second referendum: a “people’s vote” on the deal’s terms, with the UK staying in the EU if they are rejected—“a gross betrayal of our democracy,” according to the prime minister and others who consider the 2016 result final. The fundamental question is what “the will of the people” requires in this sort of situation.

In the aftermath of the 2016 vote, despite the fact that the referendum itself was not legally binding, there was a near universal understanding that the result had to be respected. Leaving the EU was against the better judgement of the majority of the people’s elected representatives, but the democratic power of a referendum result was seen as trumping their concerns. The UK’s political class, with some notable exceptions, seemed to have espoused Rousseau’s view that direct democracy is democratically superior to representative democracy.

Parliament did not entirely yield its constitutional sovereignty, however. In December of 2017 it forced May’s hesitant government to guarantee that the final deal reached between the government and the EU would require Parliament’s approval. A vote on this deal was due on Tuesday. On Monday, however, after only three of the five scheduled days of debate in Parliament, and in what the speaker of the house called a “deeply discourteous” political manoeuvre, the prime minister proceeded to postpone the vote. On Wednesday, a group of hard Brexiters in the Conservative party seized the opportunity and gathered enough support to trigger a vote of no confidence in May’s party leadership that evening—a vote she survived, but not by a particularly comfortable margin: 200 of the party’s MPs voted for her, and 117 against.

The political barriers to getting Parliament’s approval still seem insoluble: In order to guarantee that no hard border will be introduced between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland (which is part of the UK) even if the UK and the EU do not reach a trade agreement, May’s plan provides for a last resort wherein there would be special conditions for Northern Ireland and the whole of the UK would remain in a customs union with the EU—something that negates the whole point of Brexit, according to Brexit supporters, and displeases the Northern Irish party propping up May’s minority government. May hopes she can renegotiate that part of the deal with the EU, but the EU has ruled out renegotiation. Even if the EU were to change its mind, it remains unlikely than a new deal would be different enough for Parliament to vote it through. 

Part of why Rousseau was skeptical of representative democracy was because he thought elected representatives could not possibly do justice to what the general will dictated. Indeed, MPs on both sides of the Brexit debate indicated they would vote down May’s deal because they saw it as misrepresenting the referendum result.

The democratic solution to this yawning gap between what the people voted for and what their politicians are capable of procuring for them, of course, would be a second referendum. May, however, is convinced that a second referendum would be undemocratic: that those calling for a second referendum are also those who voted no in the first one, and would prefer to stop Brexit altogether, disrespecting the people’s 2016 choice . 

Viewed abstractly, overturning an older vote with a new one is hardly undemocratic; it is in fact the essence of democracy, allowing a people to adapt to new circumstances. It would indeed be undemocratic for the 2016 referendum to be overturned by a less democratic process, such as a parliamentary vote. But in a competition between two identical democratic processes, capturing the general will at two different times, opposing a new referendum could only be justified by placing greater value on the votes cast in 2016 than those which would be cast today. That hardly seems democratic. It also seems contrary to the spirit of the UK’s constitutional principle according to which no past Parliament’s decision can bind its successors.

Others opposing a second referendum say that regardless of the second vote’s merits, it would be perceived as undemocratic by voters, resulting in a loss of faith in the political system, endangering its democracy. The relevant question, though, is what effect the absence of a second referendum would have on people’s perception of democracy. Given that the chances of new modifications on the deal seem slim, the alternatives for Parliament would be to either approve a no-deal Brexit, or to unilaterally stop the entire Brexit process, something that on Monday the European Court of Justice ruled is an option for the UK. Either of those two results are in greater danger of being perceived as undemocratic than any second referendum result would, and justifiably so.

A no-deal Brexit would be an outcome far removed from what the vast majority of people who voted back in 2016 wanted. Practically no “Leave” campaigner ever suggested anything other than that a financially and otherwise advantageous Brexit. Yet the Bank of England has warned of a historic economic downturn, worse than the 2008 financial crisis, in the case of no-deal. A no-deal Brexit would also completely ignore the will of the 48 percent who voted to stay in the EU, in contrast to even May’s deal which aims for a close relationship with the EU in years to come.

The danger that crashing out of the EU presents to the country’s financial well-being could concentrate minds and push Parliament, even without the prime minister’s support, to stop the withdrawal process altogether. That would mean staying in the EU without having consulted the electorate, thus flatly ignoring the 2016 referendum result—a serious threat to popular faith in the system given that many of the same MPs had recognized the referendum as democratically binding back in 2017, when they voted to trigger the withdrawal process.  

Rousseau didn’t believe that true democracy was possible: “Were there a people of gods, their government would be democratic. So perfect a government is not for men,” who would need to act consistently for the greater good, rather than their personal interests, and to possess the necessary amount of time (and wisdom) for engaging properly in public affairs.

Asking citizens to vote directly on a 585-page, technically complicated and legally baffling document is far from a perfect way to govern. But the UK’s political representatives have also proven themselves to be far from perfect. What brought them to the current gridlock in the first place might be the only way out: If the government really believes that the first referendum was the purest expression of democracy and the will of people, there is no reason not to hold another one. 

Congress is on the brink of a first for the Trump era: the passage of a major piece of bipartisan legislation. It may also be the last.

Lawmakers have wrangled for five years over criminal-justice reform, but after months of recalcitrance, Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell announced on Tuesday that he would allow a floor vote on Congress’ latest effort, the First Step Act. The Kentucky Republican had appeared sympathetic to hardline opponents like Arkansas Senator Tom Cotton, but ultimately relented in the face of the bill’s broad support.

How broad? The First Step Act is supported by President Donald Trump, who enthusiastically campaigned on tough-on-crime policies, and the American Civil Liberties Union, which is waging a legal war against his administration. A coalition of prominent conservative and religious organizations also backed the legislation, as well as some high-profile law-enforcement groups. So have some liberal organizations, though many progressives have mixed feelings about the bill. The House passed a version of it in May in a 360-59 vote.

This unusual coalition is one of many reasons why the First Step Act might be the strangest piece of legislation in the Trump era. It’s both groundbreaking and meager, both heartening and disappointing—a long-overdue retreat from decades of inhumane policy, but also an insufficiently small step toward a more conscientious approach to crime and punishment.

One of the bill’s central provisions expands what’s known as the “safety valve,” which allows federal judges to ignore mandatory minimums in sentencing defendants who commit nonviolent, low-level crimes. Another provision reworks the three-strikes requirement for drug-related felonies: Instead of a life sentence, someone sentenced under it would receive only 25 years in prison. Modest though these changes are, they would not apply retroactively.

The bill’s reforms for already incarcerated people are slightly more forceful. One provision would allow eligible federal prisoners to claim an extra seven days of credit for good behavior each year. This change would apply retroactively, bringing thousands of current inmates even closer to release. The First Step Act would also continue a program established in 2007 to help move elderly and terminally ill prisoners into home confinement. It would also require the Bureau of Prisons to tabulate how many prisoners are granted compassionate release, so lawmakers can insure the agency isn’t refusing to apply it.

Liberals may find some of the central provisions to be insufficient to the overall challenge of mass incarceration. Part of this can be attributed to the federal government’s modest role in criminal justice; the overwhelming majority of American prisoners are tried, sentenced, and incarcerated by the states. That should not diminish the bill’s potential impact for each individual person it would help. Families Against Mandatory Minimums, a nonprofit organization that advocates for sentencing and prison reforms, estimated in November that the First Step Act would affect 183,000 federal prisoners.

The First Step Act also avoids some of the pitfalls that limited progressive support for previous attempts at compromise legislation. For instance, conservative groups and Republican senators had previously argued in favor of imposing a default requirement for federal prosecutors to prove a defendant acted with criminal intent, or mens rea. But key Democratic senators strongly resisted the proposal, fearing that it would be used by corporations to evade punishment for environmental and regulatory crimes, and refused to vote for a bill that included it. The battle over mens-rea reform ultimately contributed to the failure of a criminal-justice reform package in 2016.

Other portions of the bill will give force to long-overdue reforms. The Bureau of Prisons would be required to provide female prisoners with sanitary supplies like tampons, free of charge. Prison officials would be forbidden from using restraints on pregnant women before, during, and shortly after they give birth. Prisoners classified as “lower risk” would be required to be placed in a form of home confinement. Those who are released would be given their birth certificate and a photo ID upon release. In his analysis of the bill, the Marshall Project’s Justin George noted that many of these provisions are already required under policies that the Bureau of Prisons has been slow or reluctant to implement.

There will always be tough-on-crime politicians like Cotton who push for a maximally punitive system. One of the more heartening aspects of the First Step Act, however, is how vociferously many conservatives have countered Cotton’s claims. In a November op-ed in National Review, Cotton resorted to familiar tropes by arguing the bill would let government bureaucrats and liberal judges release violent felons into American communities. Utah Senator Mike Lee, one of the Senate’s key figures on criminal-justice reform, wrote an op-ed that dismantled his claims point-by-point. He also challenged Cotton on ideological grounds. “Conservatives have a rich history as a reformers,” he argued.

Other conservatives joined in the pushback. Newt Gingrich lambasted the “lock-’em-up-and-throw-away-the-key crowd” for trying to stop the bill that he portrayed as long overdue. “Some of the repairs are needed, frankly, because of well-intentioned but misguided crime-prevention efforts that I backed as a Republican leader in Congress during the 1990s,” he wrote in The Washington Post. Fox Broadcasting Company, the Rupert Murdoch–owned corporation that controls Fox News Channel, also publicly endorsed the bill, giving it a degree of institutional cover from conservative media outlets. Trump’s own endorsement last month also gave cover to Republican lawmakers who feared that supporting it could be used against them in future elections.

The Republican Party’s willingness to embrace criminal-justice reform of any kind, especially under Trump, is encouraging. Many states have passed more ambitious reforms, and Democrats have strong proposals to go even further in alleviating the nation’s problems with mass incarceration and over-criminalization. But the First Step Act may be the best that Congress can accomplish, for now. The lame-duck session ends in a matter of weeks, and so does the Republicans’ unified control of government. When Democrats take over the House, launching all manner of investigations into the Trump administration, the ensuing acrimony may leave little room for even modest bipartisan reforms. Enjoy this moment while it lasts.

Sundar Pichai and House Republicans probably went to bed on Tuesday feeling satisfied with the result of the Google CEO’s testimony before the Judiciary Committee. House Republicans got to spend several hours bloviating about bogus claims that the large tech companies deliberately suppress conservative viewpoints, while Pichai got to spend several hours listening to House Republicans bloviate—which meant he didn’t have to spend much time talking about even more uncomfortable subjects, like his company’s aggressive data collection and user tracking. But there were moments during the hearing that should have kept Pichai up at night.

Much of the media coverage, like the hearing itself, revolved around the censorship question—specifically Republicans’ attempts to get Pichai to admit that his company is biased against conservatives. Ohio Republican Steve Chabot, for instance, complained that Google search results about the House GOP’s attempt to repeal Obamacare largely directed users to articles about how people would lose insurance, and that results about the Republican tax cut returned pieces about how it disproportionately helped the wealthy.

There’s no evidence that Google deliberately suppresses conservative viewpoints in its search algorithm. More broadly, in fact, Pichai and Google have both gone to great lengths to appease conservatives. Regardless, the censorship question—while undoubtedly a P.R. headache for Google—is not an existential threat. Government scrutiny is.

Not every Republican on the Judiciary Committee spent their entire time catering to Fox News and conservative talk radio. Several also asked pointed questions about the company’s data collection and privacy efforts, suggesting that there is finally bipartisan momentum for meaningful regulation of Google, Facebook, and Amazon. With Democrats poised to take charge of the Judiciary Committee, at which point the censorship allegations will fade from prominence in policy discussions, Big Tech’s long-predicted reckoning may well be near.

Pichai’s testimony began with two members of House GOP leadership making the case that Google had grown too powerful. “According to The Wall Street Journal, 90 percent of all searches go through Google,” House Majority Leader Kevin McCarthy said at the start of the hearing. “That is power. It comes with responsibility.” McCarthy appeared to be suggesting that Google’s dominance was bad in part because it was being used to suppress conservative voices. Still, committee Chairman Bob Goodlatte picked up the baton, saying “most Americans have no idea the sheer volume of detailed information” being swept up by the search engine’s data collection efforts, which “would make the NSA blush.”

This is a far cry from a simple charge of political bias. Goodlatte’s remarks suggest that he’s concerned about the company’s monopoly on search and near-monopoly on targeted advertising not because of some unfounded censorship allegation, but because of the sheer market power concentrated in one company. Other Republicans appeared similarly uncomfortable with this prospect.

In an inspired bit of political theater, Representative Ted Poe held up his smartphone and asked a frazzled Pichai if Google would know if he moved across the hearing room to speak with his Democratic colleagues. Pichai, using his engineering background as a shield, told Poe he couldn’t without knowing the particulars of the phone. It was an answer that didn’t satisfy Poe, or anyone. “I think the United States Congress needs to move in a direction to allow citizens to opt-in to the dissemination of their information rather than opt-out,” Poe said. “I think most Americans don’t know all the things this phone can do.” He concluded his testimony by advocating for the U.S. to adopt strict data protections like the ones implemented in the European Union earlier this year (the General Data Protection Regulation, or GDPR).

Texas house representative Ted Poe got a little heated while questioning CEO Sundar Pichai about Google's data tracking capabilities. https://t.co/fwrEFCr8Tq pic.twitter.com/LdKPZnFpKi

House Democrats were even more persistent in questioning Pichai about his company’s data collection and privacy policies—a sign of what’s to come from the Judiciary Committee under Democratic leadership. Representative Ted Deutch spent his five minutes grilling the CEO about what information Google was collecting from its users, and whether the company believes it should be held accountable for the fake news and hate speech that are disseminated on its platforms, like YouTube. Incoming committee chair Jerry Nadler, meanwhile, focused on election interference, telling Pichai in his opening statement, “We should examine what Google is doing to stop hostile foreign powers from using its platform to spread false information to harm our political discourse.”

These are the questions that the Judiciary Committee can be expected to pursue once the Democrats take charge in January: fake news, interference, and hate speech, but also privacy, data collection, and economic power. That’s quite a lot for a committee that will also be launching investigations into President Trump.

2018 was supposed to be the year of Big Tech’s reckoning. Instead, for much of the year, Capitol Hill has focused on Facebook’s Cambridge Analytica scandal. That may have impeded a broader, deeper inquiry into the practices of big tech companies. Now, Congress is doing its due diligence, and finding a common set of problems relating to data tracking and user privacy. For the first time, it seems that Republicans and Democrats may have enough common ground to enact legislation to address these concerns.

Pichai claims to welcome this scrutiny. “Tech has a lot of impact and a lot of consequences,” he told Axios after the hearing. “And so, I think it’s rightful to be more reflective of how technology is developed. And I think the stakes are higher, the technology is getting more powerful, with the technologies like AI coming up, too. So, I think it’s here to stay, and it’s a good thing, right? I think you want to be thoughtful about how you develop powerful technologies. And I think it’s important that more people than engineers are able to weigh in on these things.”

He may be an engineer, but Pichai knows how to speak like a director of communications; this is exactly what the leader of a tech monopoly should say. Google clearly has decided that it’s better to be actively involved in the discussions on Capitol Hill about regulating Big Tech, rather than fighting it at every step. But Google wouldn’t have settled on this strategy if it didn’t think regulations were inevitable. After Tuesday, the question is no longer whether Congress will enact regulation, but just how severe it will be.