Monthly Archives: February 2014

looking for your own central ideas

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I have been suggesting that people map their own moral opinions as networks and critically examine the shapes that result. My students are doing that (because they have to), and some friends are doing it voluntarily. See my students’ collective map as an illustration.

One way in which networks vary is in their degree of centralization. If you map all your moral commitments and the links among them, you may reveal a network that centers around a single idea, or a very flat network in which no idea has more links than any other–or something in between. I personally favor flatter networks (for abstract philosophical reasons), but I don’t believe my reasons are decisive. So instead, I would pose these questions:

If you have a very flat network, in which no idea is appreciably more important than any other, is that a mistake? Should any of your existing commitments be made more central, because they are particularly important? What would happen, hypothetically, if you added to your network a new general and demanding principle that would link to many other ideas? (For instance: “Always maximize the well-being of all sentient creatures.”) Look at the resulting network and consider whether it has any pull on you.

If you have a highly centralized network, ask yourself whether the ideas that have proven so important deserve their weight. Are you certain that they are valid? Are you sure they are more important than your other commitments? What would happen if, for some reason, you ceased to believe in these central nodes–would the whole network fall apart? And are you able to reason with another person who does not happen to share your central commitments? Could you avoid your central beliefs in order to make arguments that the other person could accept and still navigate through your own network?

Now for a little more technical detail. There are actually several ways in which a node can be central in a network. In the image below, the red nodes are the most central in the sense that they have the most direct links to other nodes (7 each). A better way to say that is that each red node has 7 out of the total 24 links on the map, or 29%.

From Junker et al. BMC Bioinformatics 2006 7:219 doi:10.1186/1471-2105-7-219

From Junker et al. BMC Bioinformatics 2006 7:219 doi:10.1186/1471-2105-7-219

However, the blue node is central in a different sense: it lies on the path between the greatest number of other nodes. To get from any node in one cluster to any node in a different cluster, you have to go through the blue node. Yet the blue node only has 3 direct links (12.5%).

It is worth checking your own moral network for both kinds of centrality because they both matter.

Consider a person who believes in God. Presumably, God should be linked to a lot of other moral ideas–to all of them, at least indirectly. Some believers would aim for a spoke-and-wheel network in which God directly touched every other idea. To drop the network metaphor for a moment, they would immediately invoke God as the reason for every moral belief. “Purity of heart is to will one thing.”

But I do not believe that such a network design is characteristic of pious people in any religious tradition. Typically, faith takes the form of a whole set of linked ideas, some abstract and general and others very concrete. The ideas may include the stories and characters in scripture, the metaphysical attributes of God, the community of believers and their institutions, and the traditions of the faith (see my typology). Monotheists struggle to maintain one reasonably coherent network in which God is very important, but they do not organize their whole network as a single spoke-and-wheel.

Thus, for a monotheistic believer, God could appear as either the blue node or as one of the red nodes in the figure above.

In the blue-node scenario, God is what links everything together. Sooner or later, when discussing moral issues, this person would invoke God as a fundamental reason. Yet God would not be directly and immediately pertinent to most everyday decisions. The person might decide what to buy, how to vote, and how to raise her kids without immediately citing God. The connection to God goes through other ideas, such as “Do unto others as you would have them to do you,” or “Be a good member of the community.”

In the red-node scenario, God is immediately relevant in one domain of life: presumably, the religious domain. When deciding how to worship, what dietary rules to follow, etc., God comes immediately to mind. God is also linked indirectly to the whole network. But God is rather far removed from some domains of life, which might include the economy and politics.

I am using monotheistic faith as an example here, because everyone is familiar with what it means. But we could replace God with a strongly secular principle, such as “science offers the only truth.” In that case, too, the principle might be placed as the blue node, as the red node, or as one of the white nodes.

Overall, the network shown above is fragile because it only holds together thanks to the one blue node. Knock that out and there is no network at all. If the central node is true and deeply significant, then so be it. Deep faith (whether religious or otherwise) means committing to an idea even at the risk of having a fragile network. But if one believes that it is important to deliberate with other people, then the network shown above is problematic because the conversation will break down as soon as your interlocutor denies the contents of the blue node. You will have no other way to make your point than to repeat that node.

I fundamentally believe in deliberation because of human cognitive and motivational limitations. Each of us has a narrow and biased worldview, and the best we can do is to interact with others. That means that if your network is as centralized as the one shown above, you are at risk. On the other hand, if your network is completely flat, maybe you lack a sense of what is most important.

citizens, stakeholders, publics, interest groups?

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Last semester, as part of Tufts’ Water Diplomacy program, we discussed with MIT professor Larry Susskind a paper in which he advocated for “involving stakeholders before [important] decisions are made.”* In the ensuing discussion, I wrote down the following nouns that were used to describe the individuals who might participate in making these decisions, along with experts and policymakers: “the population,” “the public,” “publics,” “stakeholders,” “groups,” “interests,” “citizens,” “representatives,” “negotiators,” “people” and “everybody” (as in, “You have to get everybody at the table.”) These words may have overlapping referents, but they are not synonyms. They imply different strategies and different core values. To pick up a few:

Stakeholders may include organizations and agencies as well as individuals. They are defined by having an identifiable “stake” in the matter. It is possible to define stakes very broadly so that, for instance, we all have a stake in the sustainability of the globe. (Then everyone is a stakeholder.) But defining people in terms of their “stakes” attaches each person to some particular priority. You are a farmer, an environmentalist, or a government official. That encourages negotiation but not deliberation–if deliberation implies an openness to changing one’s values and priorities.

Citizens must be individual people, although in practice, actual participants in deliberations and negotiations are often representatives of organized citizen groups. The word “citizen” has varied resonances. It can mean a legal member of some defined political community (distinguishing them from aliens). It can mean a person who is not an official, for sometimes we hear about “citizens meeting policymakers,” as if the latter were not also citizens. It can mean individuals who are accountable only to themselves or to their consciences. In that case, it encourages high-minded deliberation rather than negotiation.

The public can mean the great mass of people minus representatives of a relevant in-group, such as the government, the university, or the legal profession. That usage makes the public a relative concept: I am in the public with relation to the US government but outside the public when Tufts University engages its local communities. Sometimes people use a plural form of the word to talk about “issue publics” or “mobilized publics.” Then I think the word means large communities that promote discussion.

Interest groups are usually defined as sectors of the population that can be well represented by formal organizations with mission statements and explicit objectives. Their objectives need not be self-interested; for instance, environmentalists and human rights activists can represent interest groups. The key point is that they can be counted on to pursue a particular objective, and therefore, as long as an organization successfully promotes that objective, it represents them. Interest groups may be organized democratically so that their members have a say in the organizations’ strategies, but that seems optional and it has pros and cons. (It favors voice over exit as a way of determining strategy.)

A community (in this context) seems to be a group of people who may be highly diverse in terms of identities, goals, and interests, but they interact with one another either directly or through intermediaries. So Somerville, MA, is a community to the extent that its very diverse residents interact on matters of common concern. It may also be a community in an aspirational sense: since its residents live in the same city, they should interact.

An interest group is different from a community because membership in an interest group requires support for the interest. A good member of a community seems to owe the other members some concern and loyalty but is not obliged to agree with them. You can belong to a community and seek to change its prevailing goals and values. In contrast, if you disagree with the core goals of an interest group, you do not belong to it at all.

*Susskind, “Water and democracy: new roles for civil society in water governance,” International Journal of Water Resources Development, 2013
Vol. 29, No. 4, 666–677

what is privilege?

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What do we mean when we say “privilege,” in a political or social context?

Here are some valid everyday uses of the word: “It is a real privilege to be here tonight.” “Playing football is a privilege, not a right.” “I feel privileged and grateful to be enrolled at this college.”

A privilege seems to be some kind of benefit or desirable standing that not everyone has. Some privileges are perfectly appropriate. They create meaningful and worthy categories, such as membership in a given organization or the right to practice a particular profession. According to Elinor Ostrom’s hugely valuable research on how people manage common pool resources (such as fisheries and forests), one of the general principles is the need for clear boundaries between insiders and outsiders. The insiders have the privilege to, for example, fish in a common pond. If everyone has that right, all the fish will be taken.

The problem is unjust privilege. Teaching Tolerance says, for example:

white skin privilege is a transparent preference for whiteness that saturates our society. White skin privilege serves several functions. First, it provides white people with “perks” that we do not earn and that people of color do not enjoy. Second, it creates real advantages for us. White people are immune to a lot of challenges. Finally, white privilege shapes the world in which we live — the way that we navigate and interact with one another and with the world.

Several empirical claims are implicit here: (1) certain advantages accompany whiteness in the US; (2) these advantages persist even when no one deliberately endorses them; and (3) whites tend not to acknowledge their privileges.

Built into those claims are moral premises: (1) It is OK to make distinctions, but not on the basis of race; (2) earned advantages are justifiable but unearned ones are not; (3) it is better to be conscious of privilege.

I happen to share these six propositions–on the whole–but they are controversial. From the left, Bill Mullen writes in Socialist Worker that the concept of white skin privilege divides working-class coalitions, makes racial identity look fixed and inevitable, conceals the underlying cause of racism, and blocks the only path that he believes in, which is economic revolution. A left critic might also reject the assumption that earned privileges are acceptable because they come from talent or hard work. Although there’s a big debate about what this statement implies, John Rawls insists that “no one deserves his place in the distribution of natural endowments” (Theory of Justice, 17).

From the opposite end of the spectrum, David Horowitz asserts that white skin privilege is a radical leftist myth, and “black skin privilege” is the real problem today because official policies that acknowledge race favor people of color.

Meanwhile, people who endorse the use of the phrase tend to talk about other forms of privilege as well. Race is said to “intersect” with gender, sexual orientation, citizenship status, and social class to create webs of privilege.

We will not soon conclude these debates; but some conceptual clarity may help. I think “privilege” is being used to mean unjust advantage, and that raises the question of what constitutes justice. Distributive justice is a whole topic unto itself. Allowing skin color to predict social outcomes is unjust, but preventing that does not fully satisfy justice. Getting what you earn (and only that) would be one definition of justice–not mine. Getting all that you need to meet your potential would be another definition–but I don’t think it’s possible, since human potential is unlimited. Having an equal share of the society’s rights and goods would also not be my definition, for a variety of reasons, including the fact that I don’t mind if other people have much more than I do (for I have plenty). Assuring everyone a reasonable minimum sounds good, but that it is compatible with profound and invidious inequality above the line.

Despite the difficulty, I’d argue that one must first develop a theory of justice before one can identify “privilege” in the negative sense of that word.

Calling applicants for the Sixth Annual Summer Institute of Civic Studies at Tufts University’s Tisch College (July 7 through July 18, 2014)

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The sixth annual Summer Institute of Civic Studies will be an intensive, two-week, interdisciplinary seminar that considers civic theories and civic practices as part of an effort to develop the new field of civic studies. To date, more than 100 practitioners, advanced graduate students, and faculty from diverse fields of study have participated. The Institute is organized by Peter Levine of Tufts University’s Jonathan M. Tisch College and Karol Soltan of the University of Maryland.

WHAT IS CIVIC STUDIES?

The idea of a field of “civic studies” was proposed in 2007 in a joint statement by Harry Boyte, University of Minnesota; Stephen Elkin, University of Maryland; Peter Levine, Tufts University; Jane Mansbridge, Harvard University; Elinor Ostrom, Indiana University; Karol Soltan, University of Maryland; and Rogers Smith, University of Pennsylvania.

The field can be seen as the intellectual component of the emerging movement for civic renewal.

Civic studies aims to develop ideas and ways of thinking helpful to citizens, understood as co-creators of their worlds. The field does not consider “citizens” as official members of political jurisdictions, nor does it invoke the word “democracy.” One can be a co-creator in many settings, ranging from loose social networks, local communities, and religious congregations to the globe. Not all of these venues are, or could be, democracies.

Civic studies asks, “What should we do?” It explores ethics (what is right and good?), facts (what is actually going on?), strategies (what would work?), and the institutions that we co-create. Good strategies may take many forms and use many instruments, but if a strategy addresses the question “What should we do?”, then it must guide our own actions–it cannot simply be about how other people ought to act.

Civic studies is not civic education. Nor is it the study of civic education. However, when more fully developed, it should influence how citizenship is taught in schools and colleges.

For more on civic studies, see:

PRACTICAL DETAILS FOR THE 2014 SUMMER INSTITUTE OF CIVIC STUDIES

Sessions will take place weekdays from July 7-17, 2014, at the Tufts campus in Medford, MA. The seminar will be followed by a public conference—“Frontiers of Democracy 2014” that will conclude on July 18 at 6 pm. Participants in the Institute are expected to stay for “Frontiers” as well.

Tuition for the Institute is free, but students are responsible for their own housing and transportation. A Tufts University dormitory room can be rented for about $230-$280/week. Credit is not automatically offered, but special arrangements for graduate credit may be possible.

TO APPLY

Please email your resume, an electronic copy of your graduate transcript (if applicable), and a cover email about your interests to Peter Levine at Peter.Levine@Tufts.edu. For best consideration, apply no later than March 15, 2014.  You may also sign up for occasional announcements even if you are not sure that you wish to apply.

Please circulate to practitioners, scholars and students who would be interested in participating.