Students from National Catholic University meet with members of Rep. Eleanor Holmes Norton’s staff.
The fact that democracy enabled Donald Trump’s election as president twice does not mean that a system in which the will of the people determines leadership is fatally flawed. It does, however, force a more difficult question—one that social work cannot avoid: Is democracy worth the effort?
Every few years, we return to a familiar version of this question: What is social work’s role in democracy? It was the focus of our 2018 Social Work Day on the Hill, and it remains unresolved. But after the energy and impact of our recent Social Work Day on the Hill and Student Advocacy Day, the question can no longer remain rhetorical.
It demands concrete answers.
There was a time when the profession did not hesitate. During the settlement house movement, social workers did not confine themselves to treating the effects of poverty; they organized communities, shaped public policy, and helped redefine the relationship between government and the governed. Social workers like Jane Addams understood that service and civic engagement were inseparable.
The same was true during the civil rights movement. Social workers stood alongside leaders like Martin Luther King Jr. and John Lewis, not as observers, but as participants in a broader effort to align American democracy with its stated ideals. We registered voters, challenged unjust systems, and built collective power. It was the profession at its best.
Today, the landscape looks different. Social work is more professionalized, more clinically oriented, and often more cautious. Schools worry about partisanship. Practitioners worry about boundaries. Institutions worry about risk. Those concerns are legitimate—but if they immobilize us, we are making a choice. And that choice has consequences. When a profession grounded in social justice does not fully embrace civic engagement, it creates a vacuum—one filled by voices that may not reflect the communities we serve.
So the question is not whether we admire our history. The question is whether we are prepared to act on it.
The 2027 SSWR conference theme—centered on democracy—presents both an opportunity and a test. Themes signal intent; they do not change practice. If we are serious, we must operationalize it—through curriculum, research, and sustained engagement with policymaking institutions. Otherwise, we risk repeating a familiar pattern: strong language, limited follow-through, and little measurable impact.
First, we must redefine what counts as core professional activity. Community organizing, voter engagement, and policy translation cannot remain peripheral. They should be integrated into curricula, field placements, and research agendas. If students graduate prepared for clinical licensure but not for navigating systems of power, then we have made a choice—whether we acknowledge it or not.
Second, research must connect more directly to democratic processes. Social work generates valuable knowledge about inequality, behavioral health, and community well-being. But too often, that knowledge remains within academic and professional circles. Operationalizing a democracy theme means building deliberate pathways from research to legislative deliberation—briefings, testimony, and sustained partnerships with decision-makers.
Third, institutions must clarify what nonpartisan engagement looks like in practice. There is a wide space between partisan advocacy and disengagement—one that includes voter education, civic participation, and issue-based policy analysis. The reluctance to define that space has, in effect, narrowed it.
Fourth, we must reinvest in community-level infrastructure. The settlement house movement succeeded not because of isolated acts of service, but because it built durable, place-based capacity. Supporting community organizing—particularly in underrepresented communities—must again become a priority.
Efforts to challenge Viktor Orbán’s dominance in Hungary offer a useful lesson. Where opposition forces have gained traction, they have done so through coalition-building, disciplined messaging, and sustained voter mobilization across ideological and demographic lines. High voter turnout reflected a shared understanding: democracy requires active maintenance.
The lesson is not about importing another country’s politics. It is about recognizing the mechanics of engagement. Fragmentation weakens influence. Disconnection from voters limits impact. And late engagement rarely compensates for earlier absence. Strengthening democracy requires organization, clarity of purpose, and a willingness to operate within imperfect systems.
Which brings us back to the central question: Is democracy worth the effort?
If democracy is the mechanism by which people influence the conditions of their lives, then disengagement is not neutrality; it is consequential. And those consequences are not evenly distributed. They fall most heavily on the population social work is committed to serving.
So, the question is not philosophical. It is practical.
If the answer is yes, then it must be reflected in how we train social workers, how we define professional responsibility, and where we choose to show up. If the answer is no, we should be honest about what that means for the profession’s future.
This is not a call for every social worker to become a political operative. It is a call for the profession to reclaim a dimension of its identity that has always been there, even if it has receded. Bringing communities into legislative deliberations is one pathway—but what is no longer tenable is the idea that social work can remain on the sidelines of democratic life and still claim its full impact.
The profession has done this before. The question now is whether we are prepared to do so again—with intention, structure, and a clear understanding of what is at stake.