Monthly Archives: December 2012

Young Voices in Rhode Island

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(Providence, RI) I am here for several meetings. Right now I am with members of Young Voices, a statewide organization that involves teenagers in research and advocacy on school reform. The organization’s homepage displays lots of examples of the members’ formal testimony before state and local boards and committees. Of the 20 young people with me today, almost half have given such testimony. They are practicing how to write and deliver testimony right now, as part of their Leadership Transformation Academy (LTA). They also conduct impressive research on the climate and policies of their schools. Participating with Young Voices is a powerful learning experience for the kids (who are poised and effective–and quick to engage me as an adult visitor); but even more promising is the program’s impact on the school systems of the state.

how conservatives can reclaim the civic ideal

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In constructing a position for one’s own side, one must always debunk a caricature of the opposition. That seems to be an iron law of political rhetoric. Thus I don’t take it too seriously or complain too strongly when Yuval Levin argues that the “progressive view of government has long involved the effort to shrink and clear the space between the individual and the state.”

In a Weekly Standard article, Levin asserts that both the Democrats and the Republicans in the 2012 campaign recognized only the state and individuals. Both missed the value of “religious congregations, civic associations, fraternal groups, and charities, especially in providing help to the poor.” The Democrats, in particular, “fail[ed] to grasp” the value of civil society.

Although that may be an accurate portrait of some liberal political theorists (see my critique of Martha Nussbaum), it is manifestly not true of President Obama (a former member of the Saguaro Seminar: Civic Engagement in America and a theorist of community action), nor is it a fair description of the administration’s policies, which tend to favor independent local groups, from local health centers and charter schools to service programs like City Year and YouthBuild. Obama adopted the position that Levin recommends, about as explicitly as one can, at the conclusion of his Convention speech:

We know that churches and charities can often make more of a difference than a poverty program alone. We don’t want handouts for people who refuse to help themselves, and we certainly don’t want bailouts for banks that break the rules. … We don’t think the government can solve all of our problems, but we don’t think the government is the source of all of our problems.

Nor is Levin right that the “ballooning growth of government” has damaged civil society. On the contrary, the correlation between the size and robustness of independent voluntary groups and the size of government is positive, whether at the state or international level. Unfortunately, the government is generally shrinking along with civil society in the US.

All that being said, Levin is trying to restore to conservatism a genuine respect for voluntary associations, self-sufficient and self-governing communities, and “government as a preserver and protector of the space in which our society thrives—of the social architecture of American life.”

This is all to the good. We need a conservative movement that offers positive ideals (including positive but genuinely conservative ideas about government). We need conservatives who can enter public deliberations, making arguments that can appeal to everyone, including the poor. And specifically, we need conservative voices in the debate about civil society.

After all, enthusiasm for local, voluntary, explicitly-value laden and tradition-bearing associations is a conservative heritage, although nowadays its strongest proponents are leftists like James C. Scott. It would benefit American civil society if the parties began debating how best to support voluntary associational life—whether by shrinking the state (as Levin argues—although that’s not his only proposal), by directly funding social enterprises (as the Obama Administration has done), or by other means entirely.

In this debate, the conservative side would defend associations against regulations that restrict their value-choices, such as anti-discrimination laws applied to religious congregations. Conservatives would also defend local groups that make conservative choices, such as charter schools that teach creationism. For their part, liberals would emphasize the material needs of grassroots groups and the benefits of government aid and would defend the liberal decisions of local groups (such as charter schools that teach gay history). The net effect could be quite good.

At a recent Hudson Institute event on Civil Society and the Future of Conservatism, participants discussed Yuval Levin’s article along with two of Harry Boyte’s recent pieces. During the campaign, Boyte had argued that the Republicans were forgetting the ideal of a commonwealth in favor of a pure rhetoric of privatization. He also argued that the language of work—much invoked during the campaign—could create common ground between right and left. Work is not just a matter of holding a job and collecting a paycheck; it creates public goods and builds the commonwealth. People want to work and they can do valuable work in the public, private, or nonprofit sectors. But meaningful, productive, collaborative work is scarce, and liberals and conservatives should offer competing ideas for how to change that.

Democracy in Motion

(Dayton, OH) I strongly recommend Democracy in Motion: Evaluating the Practice and Impact of Deliberative Civic Engagement (Oxford University Press, 2012), edited by Tina Nabatchi, John Gastil, G. Michael Weiksner, and Matt Leighninger.

The authors address most of the basic questions for the field of deliberative democracy, including “Who Deliberates?, “How People Communicate During Deliberative Events,” “Does Deliberation Make Better Citizens?” and the impact of deliberation on communities and on policy.

The idea for this volume was cooked up–appropriately–in a deliberative meeting of scholars and practitioners that I participated in. One of the priorities that the whole group selected was to write a multi-authored book covering the fundamental issues of the field. It is exciting to see that this collaboratively-developed idea is now an Oxford University Press book. It really is the “state-of-the art” and offers, in my opinion, the most comprehensive coverage of many basic topics. For instance, I’ve noted that there isn’t much research on how people actually reason in public settings (what kinds of arguments they offer and respond to), but Laura W. Black has a very helpful chapter on just that topic.

Donald Justice, About My Poems

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Donald Justice, “About My Poems,” from Poetry magazine, March 1965:

The poet appears as a critic of his own “early” (immature) verse that is “fashionably sad” and whose regular rhymes and meters “paralyze.” Nonetheless, he offers a rhymed, rhythmically regular poem composed of nothing but sad metaphors. They are so sad, in fact, that they overwhelm the wryness of the opening. This poem is the opposite of a shaggy-dog joke: not a humorless story that ends with a funny twist, but a punchline that introduces a moving story.

“Fashionable” has at least three senses. It can mean faddish, of temporary appeal. Nothing depicted in the poem is fashionable in that way, and some of the objects are precisely the opposite. For instance, a naked mannequin is a human figure without anything temporary and new to clothe it. A second meaning is “popular.” Moths swarming under streetlamps represent fashion, in that sense. A third meaning is contrived, artificial, or fashioned. The aesthetic of a small town is fashionable, by that third definition. Justice asks in what sense his own poem is “fashionable.” Is it artificial (with its heightened poetic forms)? Does it manipulate its readers into predictable emotions, like moths by a streetlamp? Is it modish in some way?

To what, exactly, does Justice compare his “early poems”? They have clipped lawns, porches, and streets. Under their porches, children sprawl; in their streets at night, mannequins wait. No single thing has both lawns and display windows. The poems are not analogous to one object, but all resemble small-town, bourgeois, American life in a mode of stillness and languor.

It is not so bad to be a bored child on a rainy Sunday morning: that might evoke nostalgia. It is worse to be a naked mannequin waiting to be desired. But either way, one is paralyzed and inactive, caught in a “long silence.”

The poem, however, is not silent. It speaks of these things. And people walk the poem’s streets–we do, when we read it. The poem is not like the mannequins; it absorbs the attention. Just when we are fully absorbed (perhaps “paralyzed” by the mood), the poet says, “Now the beginning again.” We’re sent back to his opening line about his own “fashionably sad” poems. We have been reading modern lyric verse in a conventional way. But then it is hard not to keep reading and become nostalgically sad again.