Russell Arben Fox has written a thoughtful essay on localism, populism, and participation. He is skeptical that we can increase the quality or quantity of civic engagement by tinkering with the political system–for instance, by changing the way we draw electoral districts or by decentralizing power. The root of the problem, Fox thinks, is psychological; it is the “privatized model of the modern democratic citizen.”

Today, people don’t feel assigned to duties in communities. Instead, they are supposed to make judicious choices among politicians and policies in order to get desired outcomes. But it is often easier to move one’s jurisdiction than to affect its policies. (“Exit” is easier than “voice.”) People congregate in the most privileged geographical communities that they can afford, rather than trying to improve the more diverse communities from which they came.

In short, the overwhelming success–depending on how you define the term–of modern market economies has had the result of many citizens adapting themselves to habits of gratification, self-actualization, immediacy, individuation, and internalized (that is, nonpublic) rationalization. Decisionmaking has been reduced in the lives of too many of us to a perpetually self-generated and always self-revisable internal calculus: what do I want, and what do I want now? I am not saying the disciplines and expectations associated with free markets are flawed; I am saying, however, that market-appropriate behaviors are not appropriate to self-government. A relatively successful market economy, combined with a superficial sense of equality bequeathed to us through a naive understanding of one’s ‘rights,’ results in a general indifference towards others so long as one’s own rights and property are acknowledged; hence, the more the dominant segments of society are socially and economically homogenized (enjoying at least superficially an easily replicable level of prosperity across society), the easier it is for those citizens in that class to retreat within themselves and assume everyone else will do likewise. Our sensitivity to truly public matters decline, and our political muscles atrophy. Of course, the enormous leaps in personalized technology, which have allowed us to connect ourselves to networks of art and information that involve no collective determination or distribution, as well as the abandonment of truly involving civic requirements (like a draft), only reifies this process further.

I largely agree and would add some supporting points. First, there is evidence that citizenship has shifted from a model of ascribed duties to one of choice. That process of “modernization” occurred in the Progressive Era and was marked by such reforms as: the secret ballot, attacks on political parties (which represented identity groups), the rise of a nonpartisan, independent press, and a profound shift in education. (Instead of sermonizing about duties, schools and universities began to provide arrays of autonomous academic methods and disciplines from which students could freely choose.)

Second, I agree that the new model of citizenship has flaws:

Making judicious choices among policies is very demanding. It takes time, information, and motivation. If this is what citizenship requires, many people will not participate at all. For instance, when party-line voting declines, so does turnout.

As Gerry Stoker writes in a passage that Fox quotes, a market system creates expectations of choice, ease of transactions, efficiency, and customer-service that cannot be met in politics, because politics involves debate and conflicting interests. Therefore, people accustomed to consumerism will tend to shun politics.

At some deep level, a life spent making instrumental choices is unsatisfying. Perhaps we can choose political parties and politicians in order to advance non-political goals, such as security. But if we choose our family ties, our neighborhoods, our religions, and everything else for instrumental reasons, what is the purpose of it all?

Third, I agree with Fox that the modernist definition of citizenship is here to stay; we cannot return to a widespread sense of ascribed duty. In 2002, we surveyed young Americans and asked how they felt about voting. Thirty-one percent said it was a right, and 34% said it was a choice. Twenty percent said that it was a responsibility, and 9% said that it was a duty. These results may change a little over time, but they will not turn upside-down.

Nevertheless, I suspect that there are political reforms that could improve the current situation. Civic engagement does have an intrinsic appeal, at least for some people some of the time. There are few other venues in which one can deal with diverse peers on terms of rough equality, addressing serious and dignified concerns. Thus, for some people, opportunities to participate create lasting habits; engagement is self-reinforcing. This is especially true for youth: a mass of research in developmental pyschology shows that civic experiences in adolescence have lifelong effects.

This is where localism comes back. Fox is right that “professional turf-guarding can occur in local jurisdictions.” However, the dramatic consolidation of such jurisdictions has left a lot fewer professionals guarding a lot more turf. Elinor Ostrom calculates that in 1932, 900,000 American families had one member with formal responsibilities on a government panel or board, such as one of the 128,548 school boards then in existence. Given rotation in office, well over 1 million families had some policymaking experience in their own recent memories. Today, thanks to consolidation, there are only 15,000 school districts, an 89% decline. Meanwhile, the population has more than doubled. The result is a decline of probably 95% in all opportunities to serve in local government. The same thing has happened in high schools: a three-generation panel study run by Kent Jennings and Laura Stoker finds a 50% decline in participation in most student groups, thanks largely to the consolidation of schools. (Fewer schools mean fewer seats on student governments.)

In short, I agree that modernization has created a problematic definition of citizenship (although the older sense of duty had its drawbacks, too). But I think that we could get considerably better results if we increased opportunities to participate.

As I write, I’m in my third consecutive meeting of a different volunteer network or coalition. These three networks (and others that I know) share the following features: One or more grants funds a staff, which ranges in size from less than one full-time person to a substantial secretariat. Individuals belong and devote substantial amounts of volunteer time. Organizations also belong, and some donate their employees’ paid time for projects.

Although each network works differently, I think I’ve noticed some patterns about what volunteers will and will not do. (Here I include paid employees whose time is volunteered by their organizations):

1) Volunteers will plan and run meetings and conferences, even doing hard, detailed work on invitation lists, agendas, and menus. But they will not reliably write up the results of meetings for public distribution. After a meeting, writing feels like a chore, and there’s usually no specific deadline. Therefore, many meetings leave no tangible public record.

2) Volunteers will write grant proposals, because proposals are plans that determine the work that will actually be done later on. However, they will not do the other work involved required to obtain grants, such as identifying potential funders. If they have their own contacts with foundations, most won’t share them.

3) Volunteers will handle pleasant human interactions, but will avoid difficult relationships.

4) Volunteers may provide regular, written information under their own names and control, but few will contribute in a sustained way to collective writing projects. That problem can be overcome with scale but is serious in small networks.

5) Volunteers will generate wonderful ideas but are much less likely to implement them.