Showing posts with label democracy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label democracy. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

From the Empirical Archives: Democracy: From the Ground Up by Gar Alperovitz

Democracy: From the Ground Up
Gar Alperovitz
Originally published in the January 2013 issue of Empirical



What of the central question of democracy itself ? Many have noted the trends of failing belief, the radical decline in voting, the massive role of money and corporate influence in lobbying, media, and elections–and in general, the large numbers who surveys show feel that “our national experiment in self-government is faltering.” That millions of Americans believe “people like me have almost no say in the political system” has been a wake-up call for many on the left, right, and center.

Several lines of reassessment have become increasingly important as the crisis has deepened. The first, directed to foundational “grassroots” community issues, has come into ever more sharply defined focus in recent years. The work of Harvard political scientist Robert Putnam kicked off a major debate on one aspect of the problem. Putnam probed well beneath such surface-level issues as the fall-off in voting to focus instead on local citizen associations, networks, formal and informal clubs, neighborhood groups, unions, and the like. Large numbers of Americans, he suggested, were now both actually and metaphorically “bowling alone” rather than in association with others. Putnam suggested that a decline in associational activity, in turn, had produced a decline in trust and “social capital”–foundational requirements of democracy in general. His response was straightforward: the nation should develop as many ways as possible to encourage local involvement–the only way, he held, Americans could hope to renew the basis of democracy throughout the larger system.

Quite apart from Putnam’s studies, general analysis, and recommendations (many of which were challenged by scholars), of particular interest was the explosive reaction to his argument–and the reorientation of strategic concern it represented. The outpouring of interest his first rather academic article on the subject produced revealed that Putnam had struck a powerful nerve. “Seldom has a thesis moved so quickly from scholarly obscurity to conventional wisdom,” observed former White House aide and political scientist William Galston.

Especially important was what was not at the center of attention: Putnam and many who responded to him did not focus on national parties, national interest groups, national lobbying, national campaign finance laws, or national political phenomena in general. What he and they focused on was the “micro” level of citizen groups and citizen involvement. Here, at the very local level, was now the place to begin to look for democratic renewal.

The heart of the larger foundational argument–and this is a critical emphasis–might be put thus: Is it possible to have Democracy with a Big D in the system as a whole if you do not have real democracy with a small d at the level where people live, work, and raise families in their local communities? If the answer is no, then a necessary if not sufficient condition of rebuilding democracy in general is to get to work locally.

Putnam essentially put into modern form Tocqueville’s contention that “in democratic countries knowledge of how to combine is the mother of all other forms of knowledge.” There is also clearly a close connection between Nisbet-style “intermediate association” arguments for liberty and neo-Tocquevillian associational arguments for democracy.

But Tocqueville, in fact, had gone beyond “associations” to take up the deeper question of how–and whether–democratic practice is reflected not only in civil society, but in actual local government. “Municipal institutions,” he stressed, “constitute the strength of free nations. Town meetings are to liberty what primary schools are to science; they bring it within the people’s reach, they teach men how to use and enjoy it.”

John Stuart Mill similarly held that direct experience with local governance was essential to “the peculiar training of a citizen, the practical part of the political education of a free people.” Mill pointed out that “we do not learn to read or write, to ride or swim, by being merely told how to do it, but by doing it, so it is only by practicing popular government on a limited scale, that the people will ever learn how to exercise it on a larger.”

Understood in this broader framework, Putnam’s thesis is only one of a group of arguments that focus primary attention on what goes on in local communities. Indeed, an important and expanding group of theorists have picked up on the more demanding “small d” Tocqueville-Mill argument that an authentic experience of participation in local government decision making is essential if democracy is to be meaningful. 


A forceful statement of the more fundamental judgment is that of political scientist Stephen Elkin, a theorist who stresses that citizens must experience the actual use of power: “Civic associations cannot do [this] job: The element of authority is missing.” Again, “for citizens to have any concern for the public interest . . . they must have the experience of grappling with its elements. For any significant number of citizens this can happen only through local political life.”

Other democratic theorists who urge reinvigorating democracy through a renewal of local governing institutions include Jane Mansbridge, Michael Sandel, and Benjamin Barber. Mansbridge argues that citizens are “most likely to come to understand their real interests in a small democracy, like a town or workplace, where members make a conscious effort to choose democratic procedures appropriate to the various issues that arise.” In his study, Democracy’s Discontent, Sandel holds that it is important to recover the meaning of the “republican tradition” in American political life–a tradition that “taught that to be free is to share in governing a political community that controls its own fate. Self-government . . . requires political communities that control their destinies, and citizens who identify sufficiently with those communities to think and act with a view to the common good.”

Barber’s treatise on Strong Democracy emphasizes the importance of different forms of knowledge to different degrees of democratic practice: “[K]nowing your rights and knowing the law are concomitants,” he suggests, “of minimalist or weak democratic politics.” Something far more powerful is needed–and this requires a very different understanding of how knowledge is acquired. “In the strong democratic perspective, knowledge and the quest for knowledge tend to follow rather than to precede political engagement: give people some significant power and they will quickly appreciate the need for knowledge, but foist knowledge on them without giving them responsibility and they will display only indifference.” It follows that “only direct political participation–activity that is explicitly public” can achieve real civic education in a democracy.

The necessity of an authentic experience of government has, of course, also been stressed over the years by numerous conservative theorists–and they, too, have consistently urged the importance of direct local involvement. Hayek speaks for many: “Nowhere has democracy ever worked well without a great measure of local self-government, providing a school of political training for the people at large . . . where responsibility can be learned and practiced in affairs with which most people are familiar, where it is the awareness of one’s neighbor rather than some theoretical knowledge of the needs of other people which guides action.”

The basic community-oriented emphasis can also be found in a line of arguments urging decentralization of government within large cities so as to increase opportunities for genuine participation. Early in the postwar era, philosopher Hannah Arendt (drawing on a Jeffersonian idea) suggested that “ward republics” be established at the neighborhood level. “It is futile,” urban theorist Jane Jacobs similarly urges, “to expect that citizens will act with responsibility, verve and experience on big, city-wide issues when self-government has been rendered all but impossible on localized issues, which are often of the most direct importance to people.” Jacobs, too, proposed transferring a number of municipal decisions to the level of neighborhood
districts.


There are also converging themes of community self-determination in the work of important black theorists: political scientist Phillip Thompson, for instance, draws on the earlier work of W. E. B. DuBois to argue, “Mass incarceration of black male youth, extensive state ‘therapeutic’ management of poor African American communities . . . make it clear that African American communities are in need of strong independent civic institutions capable of providing their own civic voice and social order in the face of extensive external corporate and governmental control.” (A number of specific proposals to undergird local organizations, neighborhood efforts, and broader public participation have been offered by different writers. In connection with their “associative democracy” approach, Joshua Cohen and Joel Rogers have proposed devolution of certain public functions and financial assistance to citizen groups so that among other things they can become “more supportive of the range of egalitarian-democratic norms.” Jeremy Rifkin suggests public payment of a “social wage” for community-serving work in–and tax deductions for time contributed to–legally certified tax-exempt, nonprofit organizations. Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis have urged limited tax credits (rather than deductions) for contributions to nonprofit organizations.)

The argument that nurturing democracy with a small d is necessary if big-D Democracy in the system as a whole is ever to be renewed brings into sharp relief some of the real-world conditions required to make this meaningful. A central question concerns the economic underpinnings of local democracy. It is obvious, for instance, that active citizen participation in local community efforts is all but impossible if the economic rug is regularly pulled out from under them. What, precisely, is “the community” when citizens are forced to move in and out of specific geographic localities because of volatile local economic conditions? 


Who has any real stake in long-term decisions?

That a substantial degree of economic stability is one of the critical preconditions of local involvement is documented in several important studies. A recent analysis of the 2000 election by the U.S. Census Bureau demonstrates that “citizens who had lived in the same home for five or more years had a voting rate of 72 percent . . . ”–much higher than rates for individuals who had lived at their residences for a shorter time. Again, Sidney Verba, Kay Schlozman, and Henry Brady have shown that “years in community” is a positive predictor of both national and local-level civic involvement, with the effect nearly twice as strong for local involvement. Another detailed survey of nearly thirty thousand Americans undertaken in 2000 similarly shows that years lived in one’s community and the expectation of staying in one’s community are correlated with increased civic participation.

A related issue involves the power relationships that set the terms of reference for municipal government. Numerous scholarly studies have demonstrated that local government decision making commonly is heavily dominated by the local business community. Commonly, too, the thrust of decisions favorable to business groups radically constrains all other choices. The use of scarce resources to develop downtown areas, and especially to attract or retain major corporations, inevitably absorbs funds that might alternatively be used to help low- and moderate-income neighborhood housing, schools, and community services.

The issue is not simply one of distribution. City Limits, an aptly titled study by Harvard political scientist Paul Peterson, demonstrates that as a result of the underlying relationships, policy choices are often “limited to those few which can plausibly be shown to be conducive to the community’s economic prosperity.” Partly this is because business owners have more money, hence usually more political influence. But quite apart from such considerations, local political leaders feel they must promote economic development, and they accordingly feel they need the help of the business community.

The “democracy with a small d” question is whether there can be any meaningful democratic decision making when allocations to achieve business priorities implicitly preempt alternative choices. If not–if most choices are radically hemmed in from the start by the need to be responsive to business–what is there to decide? And if there is little to decide, what is the meaning of democracy? And how, precisely, might the situation be altered, given the power of business interests in the system?


The conclusion–though not always brought into clear focus by theorists concerned with democracy and civil society–is inescapable: if the local foundations of democracy are to be meaningfully rebuilt, this also requires an approach to achieving greater local economic stability that does not rely so heavily on traditional business-oriented strategies. If municipalities are to be “delivered from their present economic bondage,” political scientist David Imbroscio observes, they must find ways “to promote economic vitality in their jurisdictions via the implementation of ‘alternative’ economic development strategies based on something other than capturing footloose investment.”

To the extent local economies can be made more stable, the economic environment in which local entrepreneurial businesses may flourish also obviously improves; hence, one of the foundational institutions of traditional conservative theories of liberty can also thereby be strengthened.

How to do this becomes the key question.

One method is obvious: as many have noted, cities anchored by universities, state capitals, and other major public facilities commonly enjoy greater economic stability. Economist Ann Markusen also points to many community-stabilizing policies that have been used to deal with dislocations associated with the Department of Defense base closings and related experience. Many experts–for instance, city planning professor Arthur C. Nelson, and sociologists John R. Logan and Harvey L. Molotch–have proposed a range of “development-from-below” strategies. These include diverse education and training programs, and loan, tax, procurement, and other policies to encourage business retention, entrepreneurship, and neighborhood capital accumulation.

A more fundamental structural approach intersects with the asset-based strategies considered in my article “Equality,” published in the August issue of Empirical. An important feature of worker-owned firms is that they not only change the ownership of wealth but also are far more anchored in local communities by virtue of the simple fact that worker-owners live in the community. “The only real way a community can regain control over its economic future is to rebuild from the ground up,” urges Michael Shuman, the author of Going Local. Over the long haul, he adds, this can only be done by supporting the development of noncorporate “community-friendly” enterprises that have many integral links to the locality. Real community democracy, in short, requires real community economic health–and the kinds of institutions that can sustain it. But this is obviously only one element in a comprehensive approach.


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Thursday, November 8, 2012

From the Empirical Archives: Democracy, Rule of Law, and Other Utopias


Democracy, Rule of Law, and Other Utopias
Michael J. Coyle
Originally Published in the May 2012 issue of Empirical


Go to school. Get a job. Go to work.
Get married. Have children. Act normal.
Watch TV. Obey the law. Save for your
old age. Now repeat after me: “I am free.”


George Orwell once said, “To see what is in front of one’s nose needs a constant struggle.” If this sounds strange, consider that our times are more absurd than anyone imagined they would become, and few of us really think of our lives that way.

We are sequestered daily by a rhetoric claiming we live in a democracy, that we exist in a well-ordered society, and that we have, but for the occasional temporary crisis, constructed a community where all but a few live in relative prosperity. 

However, reality, the one in front of our noses, is quite different.

We now live in a constant state of war—with the widely accepted accompanying logic of killing for peace (not unlike a “fucking for chastity” rationale). International “democratic” agreement is constructed as an occasional short pause for United Nations bullying, and then becomes a discussion of which war we can afford to be in next. Here the phrase “we can’t afford another war” is not seen as evidence of a civilization that has lost all contact with humanity, much less democratic ideals, but is instead argued as the pinnacle of rational economic policy.

In the first half of the 20th century, global powers were forced to surrender most occupations of foreign lands (politely called colonies). In the second half, they have continued their almost complete hegemony in the guise of two proudly proclaimed “gifts”: the “spread of democracy” and the so-called “rule of law.”

These two forces of neo-colonization—democracy and law—are so bent to the flow of capital that they have overseen the creation, management, and maintenance of some of the greatest economic inequities our planet has ever known. Thus, most of the world struggles to live on less than a dollar a day and the unimaginable conflicts that such “living” brings. Meanwhile, we call these communities of people “struggling democracies” to whom we happily sell weapons (commonly the biggest part of their budgets) and loans (such as last summer’s loans to Greece whose interest alone entail more than 100% of their annual gross domestic product—apparently we have not rethought utterly irrational banking practices).

Here at home, these realities have been just as powerful. The makers of “the richest nation on earth” continue their historically unprecedented hoarding, and they do so not only with and through the tools of democracy and law, but in the face of widespread poverty that may very well bypass that of the Great Depression. For example, The California Educator recently reported one in four students in California is now living below
the poverty line and is frequently going hungry.

At the same time, somehow, the notion of justice—whether local or global—is divorced from any definition of equity, no matter how corrupted. As a recent report by the Institute for Policy Studies and United for a Fair Economy found, the top private-equity and hedge fund managers made more in ten minutes than average paid US workers earned in a year. The same report details how top executives make more dollars an hour than the average worker makes in a year. Of course, that was 2006. Today, with one of five Americans out of work in states like California—the 5th largest economy in the world—things are not that good. It seems George Carlin had it right after all: it is called the American Dream because you would have
to be asleep to believe it.

This reality, right in front of our noses, begs truly simple questions. If, as in the recent economic rescue package, the biggest corporations receive billions in government welfare, or “rescue,” dollars to pay managers millions in outrageous salaries and bonuses, is it a recession we are in, or is it a robbery? The level of absurdity in our lives has reached such heights that, instead of responding, “well, obviously, this is highway robbery,” most would not even understand the question.


A close examination shows that we have even stopped pretending it is otherwise. Nobody really thinks otherwise. We would just rather not talk about it. For example, it is now widely believed that talk of wars for the promotion of “global democracies” or “peace” is double-speak for nations to construct and maintain privilege and advantage. Accompanied by rhetoric of “global assistance,” politically and economically advantageous dictators are openly supported, while democratically elected governments are equally openly
opposed and occasionally subverted.

No one is immune from this reality, no matter where they fall on the socioeconomic spectrum. On the homefront this year, Warren Buffet spurred on what became an international media campaign by some of the richest people in the West. Writing in a New York Times editorial, Buffet actually complained that he had the lowest income tax rate of anyone in his office, despite being one of the world’s wealthiest individuals. He actually publicly pleaded for the government to tax him at a higher rate. European billionaires soon followed suit in major media on their continent.

We also now understand that the so-called “rule of law” exists, not to maintain some balanced and well-ordered society where all but a few live in relative prosperity, but to maintain the same privilege and advantage that war does.

For example, on a recent trip that took me across California I observed two—seemingly incompatible—realities. In a Los Angeles airport I saw a large billboard advertisement from a law firm which portrayed an image of the well-known statue of Justice, blindfolded and grasping scales in one hand, with an accompanying text pro-claiming that “Justice may be blind, but she still sees it our way 91.4% of the time.” The message here is: “if you have enough money to hire us as your lawyers, irrespective of culpability or justice, we almost always win the case.” Only twenty-four hours later I was watching late night television in San Francisco and witnessed the political advertisement of a district attorney candidate, whose closing slogan was that as prosecutor she had achieved a “90% conviction rate.” The message is again the same, just from the other side. It implies that “irrespective of culpability or justice, if you elect me into office, I will almost always win the case.”

Apparently, only the truly foolish think of law and its application as having something to do with inquiry or justice—sorting out innocent from guilty, right from wrong, and the like. As Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. once told an apparently naïve fellow, “This is a court of law, young man, not a court of justice.”


Unsurprisingly, while our government and private corporations (with their wars, toxins, labor practices, and disregard for worker safety) each year kill and seriously harm far more individuals than person-to-person assaults ever do, few of their representatives receive more than a slap on the wrist or a fine.

Meanwhile, the people we irrationally fear more than governments and private corporations, and those we imprison the most, are those of color and of the economic underclass, 95 percent of whom do not have any college education. Our criminal justice system, probably the single most expensive government program in the history of the planet—other than the US War Department (also known as the Defense Department)—is daily proof that the law, its enforcement, and its products (courts, incarceration, and the like) are neither the result of clever argument nor an expression of justice. Rather, they are the tools through which local, national, and international suppression takes place every day.

Such realities have become the “new normal.” Anyone who even finds something odd in them is labeled as “unpatriotic” and thought of as a “socialist,” as one who is not only politically naïve, but probably also just plain stupid—deaf and blind to our wonderful “democratic” society.

It seems that in our world, the value of personal excessive economic success is superior to all other values. En masse, like lemmings, we are convinced and then defend the right—of benefit to only a handful of individuals—to reach unimaginable levels of wealth. Socially, the preservation of this right matters more than organizing social resources to ensure things like a living wage for all people, or even more minimalist goals such as the avoidance of starving and homeless children. One must wonder about this way of thinking that late modern capitalism espouses, and one must ask just how deeply we really believe this. Does the value for personal excessive economic success subordinate all other human values?


I think not. When we look at those around us, we note common decency and kindness are everyday occurrences. Few would place the achievement of their own excessive economic success ahead of the survival needs of their family or friends. This is the reality under our noses, yet we have not taken to the streets.

Though I should say, more accurately, not all of us have taken to the streets. The Occupy movement, now a national voice, has taken to the streets. In a real sense, Occupy folks are simply heeding Thomas Jefferson’s warning that American democracy and government are in danger if they fall into the hands of those few excessively wealthy lenders and corporations.

Perusing the various calls to action produced by the participants of the Occupy movement demonstrates their values as ones we can support en masse:

• Economic policy and taxation that ensure education, employment, housing, healthcare and a living wage for the bottom 99% of society.
• Justice policy and institutions organized for fairness, equality, and the protection of the Constitution and Bill of Rights.
• The end of state-sanctioned war and violence, which includes: (a) the complete removal of non-state-funded campaign contributions from the political process and (b) a declaration that corporations are not legal “persons,” and therefore cannot compete with the rights and interests of the people.

This brings us back to the question: to what extent do societies today reflect democratic ideals?

As my friend Rita Wegner—who was on the ground floor of the protests in East Germany that led to the collapse of the Berlin Wall and most communist states—once told me, “If we knew that this was to be the result of our revolution, I doubt we would have gone through with it.” And yet to most people, this would seem incomprehensible.

“What?” I asked Rita, “You would rather live under an oppressive communist regime than a democracy?”

As we toured the new East Berlin and eastern Germany filled with construction cranes and the bourgeoning signs of “economic development,” I came to understand what Rita was talking about. The revolutionaries did not confront Honecker’s oligarchy in order to transform their society into a so-called “capitalist democracy,” which resembled little of what they had imagined freedom and democracy to be about.

These realities challenge the meaning of “democracy” and “rule of law.” While democratic ideals and notions of well-ordered societies are still of the highest value, the single greatest delusion of all time is what we have been sold as “democracy” and “the rule of law.” It is really just a scam, as there’s not much democratic or just about it.

In a participatory society such as ours, there are no neutral observers. Silence always benefits the oppressor and never the oppressed. Neutrality and silence are not an option. There are no rules, no policies, no ways of thinking that are “sacred cows.” Rather, as Gint said to Quark in the Deep Space 9 science fiction television show, “They’re just rules. . . . They’re written in a book, not carved in stone. And even if they were in stone, so what? A bunch of us just made them up.”


Nor is expressing dissatisfaction enough either. LeRoy Nash, a man who spent most of his life in prison and who died while awaiting execution on Arizona’s death row, once wrote to me about the value of complaining in the following way: “I could blame all kinds of things on people or circumstances, but my past has taught me that the mere act of ‘fixing blame,’ or making accusations or excuses is the work of ignorant people who are usually looking for scapegoats rather than for genuine worthwhile answers.”

The lesson here is that we are at a moment in history that is valuable. In a post-“fixing blame,” as Nash tell us, is not the point. The planetary collapse that we are witnessing now introduces enormous opportunities. The work ahead is the exploration of alternative models of relation. At best, we will hold on to the values that seem as desired as ever. On the one hand, these are justice, equity, fairness, and individual or group freedoms of self-expression and self-determined pursuits. On the other hand, our values need to include the all-important accountability we have to each other as we share a life together.


Late modernity has left us with a culture and an economic reality that has not only ravaged the masses of the planet, but has left us so deeply scarred, scared, and weak, that most of us still struggle to accept what is daily in front of our noses. A rejection of the models of so-called “democracy” and “rule of law” that have failed to deliver their promises, and have in fact profoundly oppressed and enslaved most, seems to me the only way forward.

As the African proverb goes, “Corn cannot expect justice from a court composed of chickens.” These things will never be handed to us. Our time is now, and it is time to take to the streets. We cannot expect basic fairness or the basest of humanity from a culture that has long stopped pretending it is organized for such. If not the streets, then what? Probably what Leonard Nimoy said: “If you wait, all that will happen is that you get older.”


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