Going Public: The American Commonwealth
Civic revitalization is needed inside institutions and also beyond them, in renewing concern for the shared public world. We need to remember that the American promise is a commonwealth democracy, built and sustained by the labors of all.
Going Public: The American Commonwealth
Civic revitalization is needed inside institutions and also beyond them, in renewing concern for the shared public world. We need to remember that the American promise is a commonwealth democracy, built and sustained by the labors of all.
Going Public: The American Commonwealth
In a recent "woman on the street" interview on PBS, a run-up to the election for governor in Virginia, the prospective voter repeatedly invoked the phrase, "the state of our commonwealth." Virginia, like three other states, is officially a commonwealth.
Perhaps the woman's phrase is also a sign of the times -- that people are worried about "the commonwealth," in a time of rancorous divisions and a culture of private pursuits. For our nation's founders, commonwealth meant not only popular government but also the public world shared by all, for which all have responsibility.
Indeed, one feature of groups like RESULTS and the Citizen Climate Lobby, citizen-based policy efforts which I recently wrote about, is the way they help people move from therapeutic and private questions like "how do I feel?" to public ones like "how can I be effective on an important issue?" They answer a hunger among the people.
Today in America we need a new story in which diverse people can see themselves, countering the false notions that making money, meritocratic success, and other private goods are the only aims in life. The commonwealth is such a story, that needs to be revitalized. Experiences some years ago of house boaters in Seattle who saved their houseboats and helped to birth the environmental movement, offer some lessons.
Terry Pettus, a talented journalist and grassroots community organizer, moved to Seattle in the 1920s. Over the next two decades he was a leading figure in many popular movements, from labor organizing to fights for public utilities and old age pensions. Pettus was shaped by the populist politics of the New Deal, a pluralistic politics that birthed the community organizing tradition which later schooled Barack Obama.
In the mid-1930s, Pettus helped to organize the Washington Commonwealth Federation, a political group of labor unions, farming communities, cooperatives, small businesses, and neighborhood organizations. By the 1940s, the Commonwealth Federation held a majority of seats in the state legislature.
As I noted in my book, Everyday Politics: Reconnecting Citizens and Public Life:
City officials had always disapproved of the community. In 1962 they moved to dismantle the houseboats to make room for high-rise lake-front apartments and other developments. Their complaint against the house boaters was the sewage they dumped in the lake, though the boaters' sewage was a minuscule one half of one percent of the total sewage being dumped.
Few thought that the iconoclastic individualists of Lake Union could be organized, but Pettus knew they could. "People will fight for their existence, if not for abstractions," he told me. He and others formed the Floating Homes Association to solidify the community and they tied their concrete self-interest to an ideal to which everyone could relate.
Most importantly, they redefined the issue from survival of the houseboats to the meaning of progress. Was the Puget Sound only to become a "space age" consumer paradise, symbolized by the Space Needle, or was it a space for a far deeper way of life. "We knew we could never win if the issue was only the survival of the house boats," said Pettus.
Drawing on the commonwealth legacy, Pettus and his neighbors portrayed Lake Union as the embodiment of the commonwealth for and by the people of Seattle, "a gift to us from the Ice Age," as he put it. To make the point they turned the complaint against the house boaters for pollution on its head. "I knew we could never win by debating percentages, claiming 'less responsibility' for pollution than others," said Pettus.
To the consternation of city officials, house boaters demanded that they be permitted to pay for sewer lines to their boats. The association held workshops on welding pipes and hooking up lines. They gained allies like the city's Health Department.
They also organized on multiple levels. House boaters encouraged sympathetic journalists to write articles on the lake and its history in magazines and newspapers. Working with school teachers, they sponsored history tours of the lake. They held neighborhood festivals. They launched an aggressive speaking campaign across the city. They won support from faculty and students in urban planning at the University of Washington.
Throughout, their message connected the lake and its history with work, arguing Lake Union always had been a "working lake," built by the people of the city, that had multiple uses: recreation, commerce, residence, as well as a site of beauty and rest, and a place of sacred meaning for native peoples. The organizing effort tapped deep unease about the environment, and gave it shape in a different narrative of "the good life."
Thus the fate of the house boats acquired enormous symbolic significance. It became a choice between unreflective consumer culture and the commonwealth.
By late 1963, city officials were forced to respond. A city study group called for protection of the lake. The Floating Homes Association was able to block industrial uses, pressing the city to acquire a large area for a public park. The state legislature passed the strongest shoreline management legislation in the country. Pettus, who had been jailed under the Smith Act as a "subversive" in the 1950s, helped to write the legislation.
The organizing effort had contagion effects which continued for many years. "Seattle had a major era of citizen participation," said James Ellis a prestigious lawyer who was sometimes called "the informal leader of the city's elite." As a result, Ellis believed, "there was an incredible flowering in the city."
The lesson of Lake Union remains relevant.
Civic revitalization is needed inside institutions and also beyond them, in renewing concern for the shared public world. We need to remember that the American promise is a commonwealth democracy, built and sustained by the labors of all.
Perhaps the woman's phrase is also a sign of the times -- that people are worried about "the commonwealth," in a time of rancorous divisions and a culture of private pursuits. For our nation's founders, commonwealth meant not only popular government but also the public world shared by all, for which all have responsibility.
Indeed, one feature of groups like RESULTS and the Citizen Climate Lobby, citizen-based policy efforts which I recently wrote about, is the way they help people move from therapeutic and private questions like "how do I feel?" to public ones like "how can I be effective on an important issue?" They answer a hunger among the people.
Today in America we need a new story in which diverse people can see themselves, countering the false notions that making money, meritocratic success, and other private goods are the only aims in life. The commonwealth is such a story, that needs to be revitalized. Experiences some years ago of house boaters in Seattle who saved their houseboats and helped to birth the environmental movement, offer some lessons.
Terry Pettus, a talented journalist and grassroots community organizer, moved to Seattle in the 1920s. Over the next two decades he was a leading figure in many popular movements, from labor organizing to fights for public utilities and old age pensions. Pettus was shaped by the populist politics of the New Deal, a pluralistic politics that birthed the community organizing tradition which later schooled Barack Obama.
In the mid-1930s, Pettus helped to organize the Washington Commonwealth Federation, a political group of labor unions, farming communities, cooperatives, small businesses, and neighborhood organizations. By the 1940s, the Commonwealth Federation held a majority of seats in the state legislature.
As I noted in my book, Everyday Politics: Reconnecting Citizens and Public Life:
"Pettus and his wife Berta lived in a freewheeling houseboat community on Lake Union, near downtown. Boatyard workers, sailors, students, poor people, and bohemians mingled with retired radicals from the Industrial Workers of the World. Along the shore, speakeasies and brothels were scattered through small shacks and apartments."
City officials had always disapproved of the community. In 1962 they moved to dismantle the houseboats to make room for high-rise lake-front apartments and other developments. Their complaint against the house boaters was the sewage they dumped in the lake, though the boaters' sewage was a minuscule one half of one percent of the total sewage being dumped.
Few thought that the iconoclastic individualists of Lake Union could be organized, but Pettus knew they could. "People will fight for their existence, if not for abstractions," he told me. He and others formed the Floating Homes Association to solidify the community and they tied their concrete self-interest to an ideal to which everyone could relate.
Most importantly, they redefined the issue from survival of the houseboats to the meaning of progress. Was the Puget Sound only to become a "space age" consumer paradise, symbolized by the Space Needle, or was it a space for a far deeper way of life. "We knew we could never win if the issue was only the survival of the house boats," said Pettus.
Drawing on the commonwealth legacy, Pettus and his neighbors portrayed Lake Union as the embodiment of the commonwealth for and by the people of Seattle, "a gift to us from the Ice Age," as he put it. To make the point they turned the complaint against the house boaters for pollution on its head. "I knew we could never win by debating percentages, claiming 'less responsibility' for pollution than others," said Pettus.
To the consternation of city officials, house boaters demanded that they be permitted to pay for sewer lines to their boats. The association held workshops on welding pipes and hooking up lines. They gained allies like the city's Health Department.
They also organized on multiple levels. House boaters encouraged sympathetic journalists to write articles on the lake and its history in magazines and newspapers. Working with school teachers, they sponsored history tours of the lake. They held neighborhood festivals. They launched an aggressive speaking campaign across the city. They won support from faculty and students in urban planning at the University of Washington.
Throughout, their message connected the lake and its history with work, arguing Lake Union always had been a "working lake," built by the people of the city, that had multiple uses: recreation, commerce, residence, as well as a site of beauty and rest, and a place of sacred meaning for native peoples. The organizing effort tapped deep unease about the environment, and gave it shape in a different narrative of "the good life."
Thus the fate of the house boats acquired enormous symbolic significance. It became a choice between unreflective consumer culture and the commonwealth.
By late 1963, city officials were forced to respond. A city study group called for protection of the lake. The Floating Homes Association was able to block industrial uses, pressing the city to acquire a large area for a public park. The state legislature passed the strongest shoreline management legislation in the country. Pettus, who had been jailed under the Smith Act as a "subversive" in the 1950s, helped to write the legislation.
The organizing effort had contagion effects which continued for many years. "Seattle had a major era of citizen participation," said James Ellis a prestigious lawyer who was sometimes called "the informal leader of the city's elite." As a result, Ellis believed, "there was an incredible flowering in the city."
The lesson of Lake Union remains relevant.
Civic revitalization is needed inside institutions and also beyond them, in renewing concern for the shared public world. We need to remember that the American promise is a commonwealth democracy, built and sustained by the labors of all.
Going Public: The American Commonwealth
Beyond Polarizing Politics — Lessons From the Shutdown
Beyond Polarizing Politics — Lessons From the Shutdown
Beyond Polarizing Politics — Lessons From the Shutdown
In my last post ("Reclaiming Our Democracy - Lessons from the Trenches of Citizen Advocacy," October 15) I described the highly effective methodologies of RESULTS, the citizen-driven global anti-poverty organization, and its offshoot, Citizen Climate Lobby. These methods, described in Reclaiming Our Democracy, the new book by Sam Daley-Harris, founder of RESULTS, address not only challenges in these organizations but also obstacles to collective action across society.
In the first installment, I described the problem of the narrow focus on disseminating information, widespread in expert-centered problem solving.
A second obstacle is polarizing politics. Polarizing politics was dramatized by the furious campaign of the Tea Party and its allies against Obamacare, which shut down the federal government and brought the nation to the brink of default. It is not hard to see its profoundly counterproductive nature.
But key features of the Tea Party campaign -- its righteous demonization of opponents and good versus evil framing; its delusional qualities; its lack of attention to wider, collateral damage to the society -- are widespread in polarizing campaigns of many kinds, across the political spectrum. These warrant examination.
The RESULTS method highlights the problem. "The most profound breakthroughs and transformations come when those whom we perceive as against us or our cause begin to see the truth and importance of our issue and embrace it as their own," writes Daley-Harris. "But that can only happen through partnership, not partisanship. We must see the humanity and essential goodness in each person, especially those who are seen to oppose us."
During the dialogue which Sam and I had about empowering citizen action at the Humphrey School on October 9, former dean Brian Atwood observed the difference between poverty-reduction strategies like micro-lending, which RESULTS has championed around the world, and action on carbon emissions which are leading to climate change.
Micro-lending is easily able to win support across the political spectrum. In contrast, forces opposing reduction of carbon emissions include the enormous fossil fuel industries, and their polarizing politics is fueled by "climate-denialists" stoked by skepticism toward scientific experts among a large segment of the population.
There are also wider problems in the ways people take civic action generally. Polarizing politics is a sign of the times, using a dysfunctional "prophetic rhetoric" described by Cathleen Kaveny, professor of law and theology at Notre Dame University.
In her forthcoming book, Prophecy without Contempt, Kaveny describes "positive disruptions" in conventional American life like the civil rights movement, which challenged racist beliefs and practices.
But today's prophetic rhetoric differs from civil rights movement language in crucial respects. Thus, what Kaveny calls Martin Luther King's "just prophecy" did not demonize the doer, "the other." He focused on the deed. Drawing on the Old Testament prophetic tradition, he spoke as part of "Israel," the people, not as outside critic. He identified himself as a fellow citizen, "tied in a single garment of destiny," as he put it. His prophecy was tempered by lamentation. He evidenced humility. His vision was of a reconciled community.
In contrast, today's promiscuous prophetic rhetoric is oblivious to larger impact and tends strongly toward condemnation, not reconciliation.
It is also fueled by the blogosphere.
As Sue Halpern has described in "Mind Control and the Internet," internet algorithms allow an enormous amount of data on individuals and groups to be mobilized to inflame emotions, now branding whole segments of society in good versus evil terms. Moreover, as many observe about the Tea Party-Republican government shutdown, supporters existed in a self-enclosed bubble, in which neither politicians nor rank and file had incentives to listen to opposing viewpoints.
For the climate change movement or other efforts aimed at deep change (such as the movement for democratic education and the movement to reverse growing inequality) to succeed will require returning not only to the "just prophetic rhetoric" of civil rights leaders like King. It will also mean returning to the political sense of the movement.
King and others sought to win support of the vast majority of the population, far beyond the ranks of the highly committed. Here, he was deeply influenced by brilliant strategists like A. Philip Randolph, the great labor leader, and Bayard Rustin, organizer of the March on Washington. He was also shaped by architects of the Citizenship Education Program (CEP) like Esau Jenkins, Miles Horton, Septima Clark, and Dorothy Cotton. CEP was the grassroots organizing and public leadership development initiative of the movement, based at Dorchester Center. King was often at the Dorchester Center. Thousands of people came there from across the south to learn how to create local citizenship schools. He drew inspiration from the stories of people he met there.
Like CEP leaders, he also believed that the task of the movement after the end to legal segregation was building a majoritarian citizen movement to "broaden the scope of democracy." The Memphis garbage strike, where he was killed, illustrated this focus with its unforgettable images of garbage workers holding signs, "I Am a Man."
His focus on broad, diverse democratic movement building was also illustrated by his assignment to me in 1964, then a field secretary for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) in St. Augustine, Florida, to organize poor white southerners.
This was a challenge. By the time I began work with SCLC, my southern white working class relatives had disowned my father, on SCLC's executive committee, and our immediate family because of his civil rights involvements. "Organizing poor and working class whites" felt in some ways like "returning to the enemy." It meant learning disciplines of listening, building relationships, working on a public narrative in which poor and working class whites would see themselves, their stories, and their own interests.
I did this work for several years in the late 1960s and early 1970s with textile mill workers in Durham, North Carolina. The community organization which resulted, ACT, had some notable successes. I was also greatly impressed by the capacities for generous, interracial action among those whom my friends at nearby Duke University dismissed as "rednecks."
Dismissing poor and working class whites as reactionary continues today among many progressives. But all those who are serious about making significant change need to get over it.
We need to "return to the people," in all their vast complexity and heterogeneity. Like the participants in RESULTS and Citizen Climate Lobby, we need to move beyond polarizing politics. This means seeing and acting on the potential for change and contribution among everyday Americans of all political stripes, if we want to build a democratic, sustainable America.
Harry Boyte is Director of the Center for Democracy and Citizenship at Augsburg College and a Senior Fellow at the Humphrey School of Public Affairs.
In the first installment, I described the problem of the narrow focus on disseminating information, widespread in expert-centered problem solving.
A second obstacle is polarizing politics. Polarizing politics was dramatized by the furious campaign of the Tea Party and its allies against Obamacare, which shut down the federal government and brought the nation to the brink of default. It is not hard to see its profoundly counterproductive nature.
But key features of the Tea Party campaign -- its righteous demonization of opponents and good versus evil framing; its delusional qualities; its lack of attention to wider, collateral damage to the society -- are widespread in polarizing campaigns of many kinds, across the political spectrum. These warrant examination.
The RESULTS method highlights the problem. "The most profound breakthroughs and transformations come when those whom we perceive as against us or our cause begin to see the truth and importance of our issue and embrace it as their own," writes Daley-Harris. "But that can only happen through partnership, not partisanship. We must see the humanity and essential goodness in each person, especially those who are seen to oppose us."
During the dialogue which Sam and I had about empowering citizen action at the Humphrey School on October 9, former dean Brian Atwood observed the difference between poverty-reduction strategies like micro-lending, which RESULTS has championed around the world, and action on carbon emissions which are leading to climate change.
Micro-lending is easily able to win support across the political spectrum. In contrast, forces opposing reduction of carbon emissions include the enormous fossil fuel industries, and their polarizing politics is fueled by "climate-denialists" stoked by skepticism toward scientific experts among a large segment of the population.
There are also wider problems in the ways people take civic action generally. Polarizing politics is a sign of the times, using a dysfunctional "prophetic rhetoric" described by Cathleen Kaveny, professor of law and theology at Notre Dame University.
In her forthcoming book, Prophecy without Contempt, Kaveny describes "positive disruptions" in conventional American life like the civil rights movement, which challenged racist beliefs and practices.
But today's prophetic rhetoric differs from civil rights movement language in crucial respects. Thus, what Kaveny calls Martin Luther King's "just prophecy" did not demonize the doer, "the other." He focused on the deed. Drawing on the Old Testament prophetic tradition, he spoke as part of "Israel," the people, not as outside critic. He identified himself as a fellow citizen, "tied in a single garment of destiny," as he put it. His prophecy was tempered by lamentation. He evidenced humility. His vision was of a reconciled community.
In contrast, today's promiscuous prophetic rhetoric is oblivious to larger impact and tends strongly toward condemnation, not reconciliation.
It is also fueled by the blogosphere.
As Sue Halpern has described in "Mind Control and the Internet," internet algorithms allow an enormous amount of data on individuals and groups to be mobilized to inflame emotions, now branding whole segments of society in good versus evil terms. Moreover, as many observe about the Tea Party-Republican government shutdown, supporters existed in a self-enclosed bubble, in which neither politicians nor rank and file had incentives to listen to opposing viewpoints.
For the climate change movement or other efforts aimed at deep change (such as the movement for democratic education and the movement to reverse growing inequality) to succeed will require returning not only to the "just prophetic rhetoric" of civil rights leaders like King. It will also mean returning to the political sense of the movement.
King and others sought to win support of the vast majority of the population, far beyond the ranks of the highly committed. Here, he was deeply influenced by brilliant strategists like A. Philip Randolph, the great labor leader, and Bayard Rustin, organizer of the March on Washington. He was also shaped by architects of the Citizenship Education Program (CEP) like Esau Jenkins, Miles Horton, Septima Clark, and Dorothy Cotton. CEP was the grassroots organizing and public leadership development initiative of the movement, based at Dorchester Center. King was often at the Dorchester Center. Thousands of people came there from across the south to learn how to create local citizenship schools. He drew inspiration from the stories of people he met there.
Like CEP leaders, he also believed that the task of the movement after the end to legal segregation was building a majoritarian citizen movement to "broaden the scope of democracy." The Memphis garbage strike, where he was killed, illustrated this focus with its unforgettable images of garbage workers holding signs, "I Am a Man."
His focus on broad, diverse democratic movement building was also illustrated by his assignment to me in 1964, then a field secretary for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (SCLC) in St. Augustine, Florida, to organize poor white southerners.
This was a challenge. By the time I began work with SCLC, my southern white working class relatives had disowned my father, on SCLC's executive committee, and our immediate family because of his civil rights involvements. "Organizing poor and working class whites" felt in some ways like "returning to the enemy." It meant learning disciplines of listening, building relationships, working on a public narrative in which poor and working class whites would see themselves, their stories, and their own interests.
I did this work for several years in the late 1960s and early 1970s with textile mill workers in Durham, North Carolina. The community organization which resulted, ACT, had some notable successes. I was also greatly impressed by the capacities for generous, interracial action among those whom my friends at nearby Duke University dismissed as "rednecks."
Dismissing poor and working class whites as reactionary continues today among many progressives. But all those who are serious about making significant change need to get over it.
We need to "return to the people," in all their vast complexity and heterogeneity. Like the participants in RESULTS and Citizen Climate Lobby, we need to move beyond polarizing politics. This means seeing and acting on the potential for change and contribution among everyday Americans of all political stripes, if we want to build a democratic, sustainable America.
Harry Boyte is Director of the Center for Democracy and Citizenship at Augsburg College and a Senior Fellow at the Humphrey School of Public Affairs.
Beyond Polarizing Politics — Lessons From the Shutdown
<i>Reclaiming Our Democracy</i> — Lessons From the Trenches of Citizen Advocacy
The University of Minnesota recently hosted Sam Daley-Harris, founder of RESULTS. Sam was on a book tour for the 20th edition of Reclaiming Our Democracy, and I prepared for the dialogue between us following his talk.