Civic Rituals

In Nina Eliasoph’s excellent book Avoiding Politics, she explores, as the subtile indicates, “how Americans produce apathy in every day life.” For this thoughtful, sociological study Eliasoph embedded herself with numerous civic groups – including volunteer, recreational and activist organizations. Through her detailed observations, she notes many factors that impede successful civic and political activity.

This morning I was struck by a passage on civic rituals – practices which are seemingly good for civic life but which ultimately discourage public-minded discussion in the public sphere.

Reflecting on numerous special events organized around various community concerns, Eliasoph observes:

The practice of ritual production was one of the most important messages of the rituals. This sporadic and indirect method of showing concern made “care for fellow humans” seem to be a special occasion, something that could happen just a few times a year, easily incorporated into a busy commuter’s schedule without changing anything else.

Lest this point be misinterpreted coming on the eve of Veterans’ Day, I do think it’s important to mention – and Eliasoph agrees – that civic rituals are not inherently bad.

Voting is, arguably, a civic ritual. It is definitely habitual, with prior voting being a strong predictor of future voting behavior. While one ought to do far more than vote to be civic, I think it’s still important to have this ritual in one’s civic life.

But, I think about rituals like Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. The topics of racial justice surfaced around that holiday are deeply important and critical for us to collectively tackle in our communities. But too often, the day becomes little more than a day for pontificating by public officials. An opportunity for us each to dedicate one day to racial equality, feel good about our commitment to diversity, and then continue to go through life discriminating and blindly committing microaggressions.

In this case, the civic ritual is indeed problematic. We give the issue just enough attention to check it off our list without ever really taking the time to tackle the hard work of confronting it.

Arguably, it’s better to have something than nothing – having no days to acknowledge the realities of racial injustice would indeed be a travesty. But if we didn’t have these simple, ineffective rituals to satisfy our morality – would we then be more likely to tackle the issue more fully?

facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedintumblrmail

a taxonomy of civic engagement measures

Civic engagement is important to measure both as an intrinsic good and as a predictor of various desirable outcomes for the individuals who engage and for their communities and governments. Organizations–from individual schools and nonprofits to the Census Bureau and Corporation for National & Community Service–often ask survey questions that measure it. But there are many available survey measures, and organizations often wonder which ones to use and how to cluster them. Here is a simple table that produces six categories, with sample survey items for each.

Citizens engage … with each other with institutions
by communicating
  • attending meetings
  • discussing public affairs
  • posting/reposting social media about public issues
  • reading/watching news
  • contacting officials
  • contacting media
  • protest/civil disobedience
by acting/working
  • working to fix a community problem
  • volunteering
  • doing one’s job with a public purpose*
  • voting
  • boycotting/buycotting
  • working in government (including AmeriCorps)*
  • social entrepreneurship*
by forming relationships
  • membership in groups
  • leadership roles in groups
  • trust in other people
  • service on boards and advisory committees
  • confidence in institutions

A few observations:

  • Deliberative democracy is the first row. Public work is the whole table.
  • With the exception of trust and confidence, these are measures of action, not of attitudes or knowledge. I include trust and confidence basically as proxies for actual working relationships, which would be ideally measured more directly. Attitudes and knowledge are also crucial, but they would require another table.
  • Asterisks denote constructs that are rarely measured and for which the items seem to be relatively weak.
  • I prefer survey measures of basic constructs that are relatively invariant across contexts. For instance, I don’t care whether people post on Facebook (which we may all stop doing in a few years, anyway), but I do care whether they communicate with fellow citizens about public issues. Likewise, I would count someone as doing public work whether it’s paid or not, so I am less interested in whether people spend hours volunteering than in whether they work on public issues. The challenge is that survey measures of abstract categories are hard to understand, but measures of highly concrete activities (like volunteering hours) tend to miss the point a bit. But we do our best with proxies.
  • One way to turn these separate items into larger wholes is psychometric–looking empirically at which clusters of items go together in a population, because clusters would ostensibly measure underlying psychological factors. I think that is valuable work but not the only way to proceed. These are not strictly psychological measures, manifesting the mental states of individuals. They have a lot to do with institutions and varying social needs. Further, we are not looking for individuals who approximate good citizenship as a psychological state. Rather, we are trying to improve democracy. That may require a division of labor in which, for instance, some people specialize in protest and have low confidence in institution, while others have high trust and volunteer a lot. What kinds of civic engagement we need is a social/political question, not a psychological one.

Interdisciplinarity

When I started my Ph.D. program somebody warned me that being an interdisciplinary scholar is not a synonym for being mediocre at many things. Rather, choosing an interdisciplinary path means having to work just has hard as your disciplinary colleagues, but doing this equally well across multiple disciplines.

I suspect that comment doesn’t really do justice to the challenges faced by scholars within more established disciplines, but I can definitely attest to the fact that working across disciplines can be a challenge.

Having worked in academia for many years, I’d been prepared for this on a bureaucratic level. My program is affiliated with multiple departments and multiple colleges at Northeastern. No way is that going to go smoothly. Luckily, due to some amazing colleagues, I’ve hardly had do deal with the bureaucratic issues at all. In fact, I’ve been quite impressed to find that I experience the department as a well-integrated part of the university. No small feat!

But there remain scholarly challenges to being interdisciplinary.

This morning, I was reading through computer science literature on argument detection and sentiment analysis. This relatively young field has already developed an extensive literature, building off the techniques of machine learning to automatically process large bodies of text.

A number of articles included reflections how how people communicate. If someone says, “but…” that probably means they are about to present a counter argument. If someone says, “first of all…” they are probably about to present a detailed argument.

These sorts of observations are at the heart of sentiment analysis. Essentially, the computer assigns meaning to a statement by looking for patterns of key words and verbal indicators.

I was struck by how divorced these rules of speech patterns were from any social science or humanities literature. Computer scientists have been thinking about how to teach a computer to detect arguments and they’ve established their own entire literature attempting to do so. They’ve made a lot of great insights as they built the field, but – at least from the little I read today – there is something lacking from bring so siloed.

Philosophers have, in a manner of speaking, been doing “argument detection” for a lot longer than computer scientists. Surely, there is something we can learn from them.

And this is the real challenge of being interdisciplinary. As I dig into my field(s), I’m struck by the profound quantity of knowledge I am lacking. Each time I pick up a thread it leads deeper and deeper into a literature I am excited to learn – but the literatures I want to study are divergent.

I have so much to learn in the fields of math, physics, computer science, political science, sociology, philosophy, and probably a few other fields I’ve forgotten to name. Each of those topics is a rich field in it’s own right, but I have to find some way of bringing all those fields together. Not just conceptually but practically. I have to find time to learn all the things.

It’s a bit like standing in the middle of a forrest – wanting not just to find the nearest town, but to explore the whole thing.

Typical academia, I suppose, is like a depth first search – you choose your direction and you dig into it as deep as possible.

Being an interdisciplinary scholar, on the other hand, is more of a breadth first search – you have to gain a broad understanding before you can make any informed comments about the whole.

facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditlinkedintumblrmail

Educational Change, Cultural Organizing and Citizen Politics

Deborah Meier, a great democracy educator and a mentor of mine, and I have been discussing the meaning of "citizen politics" in our Bridging Differences blog conversation at Education Week. In the last blog she responds both to me and to Mike Miller, long time community organizer who commented on our exchange (his comments are on the Sabo Center for Democracy and Citizenship blog).

"I'm struggling to picture the alternative form of organizing you are suggesting," says Meier, remarking that she can better understand Miller's description of large coalitions of community groups and trade unions. She adds that Miller has no examples of large-scale successful educational transformation. She also observes that an example which does purport to be about large scale change, the school choice movement, "creates communities separate from the ones we actually live in and vote in."

Then she asks "what's our alternative?"

I agree choice does not equate with "democracy." Citizen politics is the wellspring of democracy as a way of life in American history is citizen politics. Let me elaborate.

Mike Miller's involvement in the conversation illustrates one example, which is fairly widely known these days. In 1983 I wrote about the San Francisco Organizing Project (SFOP), a broad-based community organization which he was organizing, and attended its founding convention. The chapter, "God's Laboratory," from my book, Community Is Possible, is up on academia.edu

SFOP was wonderfully diverse. It reminded me of a vivid description of San Francisco in a black newspaper at the turn of the century, "Like a Fairway of an enormous circus [with] thousands of every race...Hindoos, Japanese, Black men with wide shoulders, slim hips, loose relaxed gait, Jews, Swedes, Spaniards, Chinese, lean Englishmen..."

SFOP brought together religious groups, trade unions, community organizations, with people from different racial, cultural, and partisan backgrounds to work on issues like affordable housing and jobs,. These days some such broad based community organizations also include schools.

Building the conference involved intentional work to create public relationships across huge differences, using methods like one on one meetings. It was full of conflict but very productive, growing the "public persona" which Alyssa Blood observed among special education kids in Public Achievement - capacities to work in public settings full of diversity. It also embodied key democratic values such as equality, cooperation, and respect -- faith in the public potential of people from all sorts of backgrounds. Overall it was about civic agency, or developing collective empowerment.

That's what I mean by "citizen politics."

Mike and I discussed how citizen politics can spread. We both agreed that more is needed than community organizing to change America. We had some differences on what will spread it.

We discussed two models. The Chinese model, the countryside encircling the cities, builds coalitions to overcome the powerful. Mike advocates variations on this model - as do most community organizers.

I also argued another model is necessary, "cultural organizing," and we discussed the astonishing spread of Christianity in its early centuries especially among the poor and marginalized. It involved conversion to a different way of seeing themselves and reality, which accorded people a new dignity and worth. This was a molecular process of cultural transformation. In American history something similar has taken place again and again around democracy, in which religious values and of practices are one strand but they form part of a larger public whole.

We're seeing signs of this democratic ferment again, especially around education. Lani Guinier's The Tyranny of the Meritocracy has many examples of bringing a more cooperative ethos into the hypercompetitive individualist culture of education. For instance, Guinier describes the "quiet revolutionary" Shirley Collado, who develops ways for minority students from low income backgrounds to work together cooperatively. Guinier calls such examples "democratic merit," challenging the "testocracy."

The subtitle of her book, "Democratizing higher education," is revealing. In colleges and in schools, there are signs of a fledgling democratic movement.
It needs the idea of public life as an arena of diversity and tension which can be constructive - if people grow "public personas." Public Achievement illustrates. At Maxfield Elementary School in St. Paul a PA team of fifth grade African Americans are working on an anti-bullying campaign. I asked them why kids bully. They had many insights about the hypercompetitive culture.

They are learning strategies for working together - cooperating - and with a broader public, kids not their buddies.

PA is one seedbed of a movement.

Harry Boyte's most recent book is the edited collection, Democracy's Education (Vanderbilt University Press, 2015).

the Democrats’ problem is social capital

Notwithstanding the fiasco that is the GOP presidential primary so far, Matthew Yglesias warns, “The Democratic Party is in much greater peril than its leaders or supporters recognize, and it has no plan to save itself. … The vast majority — 70 percent of state legislatures, more than 60 percent of governors, 55 percent of attorneys general and secretaries of state — are in Republicans hands. And, of course, Republicans control both chambers of Congress.”

A major factor is the turnout gap. That is worse for Democrats in local and off-year elections but will persist in 2016. Today, the pollsters Greenberg/Quinlan/Rosner report that “unmarried women, minorities, and particularly millennials are less interested in next year’s voting than seniors, conservatives, and white non-college men are.”

Why do we see these gaps? On the whole, we engage in politics when we are brought into networks where political issues are regularly discussed and where people encourage each other to participate. This is a consistent finding of our own research on youth as well as much research on adults. Yglesias uses that theory to explain why unionized teachers vote in local elections:

Teachers talk to one another (they work together, after all) about questions of public policy (everyone talks at work about work, but public school teachers’ work ispublic policy), and they also have hierarchical channels of information dissemination (the union itself) through which this work talk can connect to practical politics.

(Yglesias is expanding on Eitan Hersh’s argument that “scheduling local elections at odd times appears to be a deliberate strategy aimed at keeping turnout low, which gives more influence to groups like teachers unions that have a direct stake in the election’s outcome.” Yglesias is contributing an explanation of why the union members vote.)

Let’s call participation in networks “social capital.” Since the 1970s, Democrats have lost social capital (of a politically relevant kind) and Republicans have not. The parties used to be on par, but the Republicans now have a meaningful advantage.

To illustrate, I show rates of regular religious attendance, membership in unions, membership in fraternal organizations, and a composite (defined as belonging to at least one of the three). The data come from the General Social Survey, which hasn’t asked about unions or fraternal associations since 2004. But in some ways, that’s OK, because I think the trend from 1970-2004 is the significant one, and the subsequent period has been unsettled because of social media and two high-profile presidential elections.

politics and social capital

Observations:

  • Democrats have become less likely to attend religious services regularly; Republicans have not.
  • Democrats have always been more likely than Republicans to belong to unions, but their membership rate was considerably higher in the 2000’s than in the 1970s. (Of course, union membership for Americans as a whole has fallen more steeply.)
  • Republicans have lost some ground with fraternal associations, but those never provided a huge component of their social capital.
  • The Democrats show an overall decline; the Republicans do not.

Caveats: 1) These are only three measures of social capital, plus a composite of the three. There are certainly other varieties of engagement–but I selected the ones I thought were most important. 2) Democrats and Republicans are not fixed demographic groups with persistent members. It is not the case that people have remained Democrats but have become less likely to join unions or attend church. Rather, the American people have changed in various ways, and the subset that consists of Democrats who have social capital has shrunk. The trends shown above only tell part of the story, but I think an important part.