why post-modern nation states do not need mass support

In Downsizing Democracy,* Matthew Crenson and Benjamin Ginsberg suggest that 19th and 20th century nations needed mass support in order to field huge armies and float national debts. But postmodern nations need neither mass conscription in wartime nor huge numbers of their own citizens to buy bonds. Their governments really do not need mass support, and that is why turnout has fallen and the influence of wealthy donors has risen in countries like the United States. (One could also observe the apparent success of non-democratic countries like China.)

To buy this theory, you need not presume that “elites” are aware of any of the above and have deliberately orchestrated mass participation and then demobilization. A roughly Darwinian account–survival of the fittest–would explain the trends instead. (This is my conjecture, not directly out of Crenson and Ginsberg.)

Go back to 1600, and you will observe nation states in Europe and other parts of the world that are run by monarchs and aristocratic castes. A king must borrow money to hire professional soldiers to protect himself and conquer others. The ones who cannot borrow are at risk. King Philip II of Spain, for example–although he inherited the greatest empire of the age–went bankrupt in 1557, 1560, 1576, and 1596. It is not coincidental that both the Netherlands and England flourished at Spain’s expense during his reign.

The Dutch invented an alternative. They borrowed money from their own people to field a highly professional, permanent army and navy. Their people were willing to buy government bonds because their government was republican, hence accountable to the citizen-lenders. The Dutch economy, empire, and influence grew, only to be checked by England when it had adopted the same mechanisms–parliamentary government and a national debt. England became republican in the mid-1600s and then a constitutional monarchy in the 1700s not because its leaders saw that mass support would give them an edge in war, but for complex internal reasons. Regardless of the reasons, this change rendered them “fitter” than their competitors, and soon Britannia ruled the waves. The Glorious Revolution was like a random mutation that conferred evolutionary advantage on its organism.

The United States adopted the Anglo-Dutch model as we rose to global power. In 1900, 73 percent of American men voted (even though a significant number were effectively blocked by racial discrimination). The popular democracies had dangerous rivals in the form of dictatorships, which used a combination of authentic mass support and terror to mobilize their people. But the democracies prevailed in 1945 and 1989–voting seemed to work better than terror.

Since then, the world’s most powerful militaries have renounced conscription because they are deadlier using highly trained professionals and expensive technology. Governments no longer need large numbers of their own people to buy bonds, because they can borrow from institutions and millionaires around the world. Mass support no longer gives countries a Darwinian edge, and neither the European nor the North American democracies can really claim mass support any more.

That is a sobering thought if you favor popular democracy.

*Matthew A. Crenson and Benjamin Ginsberg, Downsizing Democracy: How America Sidelined its Citizens and Privatized its Public (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2002)

on respecting and challenging community norms

Here is a passage from We make the Road by Walking, a dialogue between the American civil rights leader Myles Horton (who founded the Highlander Folk School) and the Brazilian popular educator Paulo Freire. We talked about it today in the Summer Institute of Civic Studies as we discussed when power operates in a hidden way (by affecting people’s beliefs); when intervention is appropriate and helpful; what is “education” versus indoctrination or leadership; and related questions.

Myles [Horton]: We had to find ways to handle our own “weakness of culture.” One of the real problems in the South in the early days of Highlander was segregation, discrimination against people of color, legally and traditionally. One of our principles is that we believe in social equality for all people and no discrimination for any reason—religious, race, sex, or anything else. The social customs were to have segregation. Now how did we deal with that social custom? The way that was used by most people working in what then was called race relations was to talk about it and pray over it and wait for magic changes, I suppose. Some dealt with segregation by having segregated programs, and educating Blacks here and whites there, like it was traditional to do. We chose to deal with it directly, knowing that a discussion and analysis wouldn’t change their minds.

We decided to hold integrated workshops and say nothing about it. We found that if you didn’t talk about it, if you didn’t force people to admit that they were wrong—that’s what you do when you debate and argue with people—you can do it. People didn’t quite understand how it was happening. They just suddenly realized they were eating together and sleeping in the same rooms, and since they were used to doing what they were supposed to do in society, the status quo, they didn’t know how to react negatively to our status quo. We had another status quo at Highlander, so as long as we didn’t talk about it, it was very very little problem. Then later on, participants started talking about it from another point of view, a point of view of experience. They had experienced something new, so they had something positive to build on. When we started talking about it, it wasn’t to say: “Now, look you’ve changed. We were right and you were wrong.” We said: “Now you’ve had an experience here. When you get back you’ll be dealing with people in your unions who haven’t had this experience, and they’re going to know you’ve been to an integrated school. How are you going to explain it to them?” So they started, not ever talking about how they had changed or how they had faced this problem, but with how they could explain to other people. We just skipped the stage of discussion. Of course, it was going on inside all the time, but we didn’t want to put it in terms of an argument or a debate.

One aspect of the writing that fascinates me is the changing definition of “we.” First Horton, a white Southerner, chooses to describe racial segregation as a problem of the community to which he belongs–“our own weakness of culture.” But then the “we” becomes the Highlander Folk School: “our principle … is social equality for all people and no discrimination.” Later, “we” becomes the people who have experienced Highlander’s integrated meetings and will go back to their segregated communities. Even if you assume that “we” should not intervene to change “them,” who counts as “we” is usually open to change.

Another important theme is the avoidance of explicit argumentation. Horton thinks that to argue against segregation would be … what? Merely counter-productive in the particular situation? Poor pedagogy? Or unethical, because it would fail to respect the people who come to Highlander?

CIRCLE in the news

Here is a roundup of some recent news articles citing CIRCLE:

In an article about voter ID requirements, CIRCLE’s Abby Kiesa says, “‘There’s a huge gap in the research right now’ concerning how many college students lack the proper identification to register to vote … But, she wrote in an e-mail, ‘regardless of the effects of voter-ID laws on turnout, we think that more youth participating is better, and putting obstacles in the way of this is unconscionable.'” (Molly Redden, “As 2012 Elections Loom, Partisans on Both Sides Argue the Effect of Voter-ID Laws on Students,” Chronicle of Higher Education, 7/11)

Emily Schultheis writes in Politico, “Engagement with other users is one of the main ways candidates can distinguish themselves on Twitter, experts say. ‘Certainly, what you’d be aiming for if you’re a politician … is not that [voters] are just following you but reprocessing your material,’ said Peter Levine, director of the Center for Information and Research on Civic Learning and Engagement at Tufts University” (“New Gingrich Miles Ahead in Twitter Primary,” 7/12).

Katie Banks (Medill News Service) covers campaigns by young politicians and cites CIRCLE data on youth turnout: “Tomorrow’s Leaders Here Today: Young Adults Making Waves by Challenging Older Incumbents,” Austin Weekly News, 6/29

CIRCLE’s Peter Levine tells The Hill newspaper, “the GOP primary might not be too helpful to the Republican Party, as primaries typically draw low youth turnout. ‘To the extent that the primaries are dominated by strong conservative candidates and issues, the Republicans will tend to alienate independent young voters who are following the news,’ Levine wrote in an email. ‘It will be hard to recover with them in the general election.’ …

“Levine agreed that in 2008, college voters were particularly important because they overwhelmingly favored Obama. Yet this year, Levine wrote, the magnitude of their impact ‘depends on whether the president is able to mobilize his “base” again, and also whether Republicans are able to make some inroads with young voters. In 2008, Republicans performed extraordinarily badly with the college vote, but they have plenty of room to improve.’

“Much of college students’ roles in the 2012 election will depend on the Republican nominee, Levine said.

“Since 2004, young people have become heavily Democratic,” he wrote. “The question now is whether they will be a lasting part of the Democratic coalition, or whether the Republicans will put them back into play somehow.” (Becki Steinberg, “College 2012, “ The Hill, 7/11)

what is the “good citizen”?

As we work our way through voluminous readings at the third annual Summer Institute of Civic Studies, I like to ask how various authors understand citizenship. Here is a brief sample of their (hypothetical) definitions of “the good citizen”:

Elinor Ostrom: the designer or improver of techniques and processes that solve collective-action problems. For instance, someone who figures out how not to over-fish a local public lake is a very good citizen.

Vaclav Havel: anyone who has a “heightened feeling of personal responsibility for the world” and who is aware “that none of us as an individual can save the world as a whole, but that nevertheless each of us must behave as though it were in our power to do so.” Each of his or her acts (even if “tiny and inconspicuous”) is informed by this belief.

Aristotle: the man (but nowadays it could be a woman) who is skillful in both ruling and being ruled, who deliberates and judges on matters of official policy, voting and then obeying the results of each vote, and thereby serving the safety of the constitution. Also, the good citizen abstains from participation in the marketplace.

Jurgen Habermas: a person who comes together with diverse peers to decide collectively what ought to be done, giving and hearing reasons but refusing to use threats or incentives to obtain agreement.

Michael Schudson: the question is misleading because each stage of political history requires a different kind of citizen.

More coming ….

the Summer Institute of Civic Studies

Today is the beginning of the third annual Institute of Civic Studies at Tufts University’s Tisch College of Citizenship. For the next two weeks, I will be meeting daily from 10 am-6 pm with a group of 20 people who include young faculty and graduate students as well as experienced practitioners, such as the city manager of a Midwestern city and the executive director of a service corps. The participants represent the disciplines of divinity, education, engineering, human development, philosophy, policy, political science, planning, and public administration.

The focus is not on how to educate people for citizenship, but rather what “citizenship” ought to mean and how (in general) to promote it. Our concern is less with who counts as a citizen than with what citizens should do. My co-organizer, Prof. Karol Soltan, and I are motivated by the goal of building a new discipline of civic studies, aligned with the principles in this “manifesto.”

The institute will segue into the third annual Conference on Civic Studies and Civic Practices (Ju;y 21-23), which has attracted more than 120 registrants from several countries. Space at that conference is now severely limited but you could still apply to attend.

The Summer Institute is, I feel, education at its best. We charge no tuition and offer no grades or credits. Participants attend for sheer love of the topic and have, in past years, formed strong intellectual communities.

Because my facilitation duties will be pretty intense, I anticipate blogging less than daily between now and July 25. Some of my posts may be revisions of previous entries about our institute’s readings and authors.