a story about universities and communities

I thought the following was the most interesting story told at the Penn State conference last weekend. (I’ll relate it in an anonymous paraphrase, since I don’t have the speaker’s permission to name her or her institution.) The story takes place at a major research university that’s near a deeply impoverished city. Don’t try to guess which one–there are lots. An administrator gathered a group of socially engaged, committed professors to meet with representatives of the community. The community members listed a set of pressing concerns, one of which was the huge trucks that rumble through their city. It came time for the professors to respond, and one by one, they all said that they knew nothing about trucks. The community members replied (in effect), “Well, it looks like we’ll have to deal with this on our own. But what good does it do us to have a world-class research university here?”

Like all good stories, this one prompts many thoughts, not all mutually consistent. My colleagues at the meeting made some interesting points, and then I came up with other ideas on my way home. In particular …

  • It wasn’t necessarily wrong for the professors to disclaim expertise about trucks. There’s nothing worse than false pretentions to knowledge, and these people really didn’t know about urban planning, traffic control, or related issues.
  • Possibly, the university should hire different people if it can’t field experts on the topics that concern the neighboring community. But possibly not. It all depends on mission. The university in question sees itself in service to the whole world, so it’s understandable that they don’t hire truck experts.
  • It might have been a good thing for the community to realize that they had to solve the problem on their own. There is nevertheless a question about the purpose of universities, especially ones that are supposed to serve their neighbors.
  • There could be a role for the university as a knowledge-broker. A staff member could be charged with putting community members in touch with experts–either at the campus or elsewhere. (Although no one at Penn State said so, this is a traditional role for librarians.)
  • Perhaps the professors who said they knew nothing about trucks were missing the point. Trucks are easy to understand; and urban planning (while complex) may not be the issue here. The real problem may not be trucks or roads but power: who wields it, how to confront it, how to get it. Professors, specifically political scientists, are supposed to understand power. But you can’t just transfer information or expertise about power to community members. Something much closer to real education would be required. By the way, the education could be mutual, since the best political scientists learn from observing or participating in political struggles.

“gay in a red state”

Since the election, I have repeatedly heard sophisticated liberals make extraordinary statements about conservative America, statements that verge on hatred and panic. One senior colleague, for instance, thinks that the election was basically about race; according to him, a hard-core 30% of Americans are fundamentalist Christians who regularly hear KKK-like speeches in their churches. I’m sure that there are equally extreme stereotypes on the other side of the Red State/Blue State divide. That doesn’t make it OK for liberals to lash out; nor are massive misinterpretations a good basis for rebuilding the Democratic Party. Even when stung by a bitter defeat, liberals, of all people, need to keep their minds and ears open. Anne Hull’s Washington Post article, “Gay in a Red State,” is a good place to go for some nuance.

Several weeks ago, I argued that the New York Review of Books should not have illustrated an article about American conservatism with a photo of Fred Phelps, an elderly reverand holding a “God Hates Fags” sign. I wrote that Phelps was essentially a cult-leader whose doctrines contradicted the mainstream teachings of evangelical Christianity. I said that using his face to illustrate an article about conservatism was like putting Castro’s picture next to a critical piece about liberalism.

Today, Anne Hull tells what happened when Phelps arrived in Sand Springs, OK, home of the 17-year old Michael Shackleford. Shackelford was previously the subject of Hull’s article about being gay in small-town Middle America. After reading this earlier story, Fred Phelps and his coterie came to Sand Springs to demonstrate, armed with signs saying, “Fags are Worthy of Death,” “Fags Doom Nation,” and other charming slogans.

Shackleford’s mother and pastor, convinced that homosexuality is a sin, were intent on “saving” him. His church’s sign said, “I hate the sin but love the sinner–God.” If this message was directed at Michael Shackleford, it suggested a lack of tolerance. Michael Shackelford’s community fundamentally disagrees with me and my community about the young man’s nature and its moral significance. They think his soul needs “saving”; I think he’s fine just as he is. There is a cultural divide in America.

However, Phelps was enraged by the church’s sign and told the Post, “It’s a play on words, the sin and the sinner. You can’t separate the two. There are some people in this world who are made to be destroyed.” Michael Shackleford’s neighbors knew that this was wrong. They knew it instinctively and passionately–not because they are liberal (although they are actually very liberal, by global and historical standards), but because they are Christian.

A truck driver shouted at Phelps, “Let he who cast the first stone …” A “burly man with a crew-cut” approached Shackleford in church and gave him a thumbs-up. Another congregant (holding his Bible) told Shackleford, “Man, you be who you are. We got your back.” His mother let him go to Washington for a Human Rights Campaign dinner. There, he visited a gay bookstore to buy a book for her, a book “on being a Christian parent of a gay child.”

There is deep moral disagreement in America. I passionately believe that the other side is wrong and doing harm, maybe even contributing to the suicide and murder of gay kids. However, there is also a great deal of commonality–and flexibility. Michael Shackelford’s mom, for instance, hopes that her son will be “saved” from homosexuality, but supports his educational journey to the alien big city. She is a better citizen than a liberal who forms hostile opinions of American fundamentalist Protestantism without actually listening to any fundamentalists.

to Penn State

I’m on my way to Penn State University this morning for a “National Public Scholarship Conversation.” We’ll be talking about ways to conduct what Harry Boyte would call “public work” in a land-grant, state university. When scholars do public work they somehow collaborate with fellow citizens to generate ideas and information of public value. We’ll also consider “the university’s role in the development of democratic principle and practice” among students. I know and admire many of the participants, and the moderator will be NPR’s David Brancaccio. So this should be fun.

the “ideas” we need most

There are now several standard views about how progressives should recover from the 2004 election. One approach is to develop “new ideas.” That phrase, however, can mean various things, from innovative policy proposals to grand rhetorical statements that might unify the standard laundry list of progressive policies. James Carville and Bob Shrum are seeking a progressive “narrative” to counter the dominant conservative story about America. That sounds like a good thing to me, but I don’t believe it will be credible unless progressive candidates can also explain exactly how they will implement their vision. Policy ideas are indispensable.

Let me suggest, however, that we don?t need proposals as much as models. A proposal is something that a professor, a think-tanker, a Member of Congress or a congressional staffer, or a columnist might invent on the way to work. It?s an ?idea? in the basic sense. Examples include auctioning the broadcast spectrum to pay for free online material, giving all high school graduates cash, or (from the other side of the aisle) privatizing Social Security. Such ideas can make a difference, although it?s relatively hard to think of progressive proposals that have actually come to pass and achieved their intended goals. I think it?s easier to implement libertarian proposals, because ideas like privatizing or tax-cutting don?t require new institutions or cultural changes. Much more than ideas are needed to create institutions and change cultures.

Indeed, all the great moments of American progressivism have occurred when national leaders have ?scaled up? concrete experiments that had first developed at the local or state level. In other words, they haven?t relied on proposals as much as real-life models. For instance, it?s not too much of an exaggeration to interpret the New Deal as the New York State welfare system writ large; and New York State had built its system by expanding settlement house programs that had been pioneered earlier by the likes of Mary Simkhovitch at Greenwich House on the Lower East Side. Simkhovitch and her colleagues had ideas, but they also had concrete experiences.

Greenwich House (like Hull-House in Chicago, or like a good charter school today) was a problem-solving institution embedded in a cultural and social context. It was much more complex than any idea that could be written on a chalkboard. It couldn?t be replicated automatically in other places. Any persuasive analysis of why it was successful would be a long story about many individuals and their overlapping and conflicting goals. But even if Greenwich House couldn?t be cloned and distributed to other communities, it did serve as an inspirational model, an opportunity to develop leaders and learn relatively general lessons, and a node in a politically powerful network. Whereas ideas cannot implement themselves, institutions can grow and spread.

Building experimental institutions is a much slower process than dreaming up new proposals. In the short-term, clever ideas would probably help progressives to win elections. But we don?t have ideas that can actually tackle our deepest problems, such as the lack of satisfactory jobs for high school graduates, our awful incarceration rate, global warming, or the “Red State”/”Blue State” cultural divide. If national policies are to address such problems, they must be built on concrete experiences and networks of citizens. That?s why I think that short-term electoral defeats?and victories?are much less important than most people believe. Long-term, patient, self-critical, participatory experimentation is the road to progressive revival.

The purpose of politics is to address problems, not to win elections. George W. Bush is likely to make some problems worse. Above all, he is likely to undermine further the fiscal condition of the federal government. But John Kerry had no plan or possible mandate to solve our deepest problems. So let’s keep our eyes on the real target and not allow ourselves to be distracted by what happened last Tuesday.

the youth vote: a final thought

I know I’m in danger of beating a dead horse here, but I have to make one more point about youth turnout. John Kerry would have lost the popular vote even if every single citizen between the ages of 18 and 29 had voted–a completely unreasonable expectation. Assume that all 40.7 million under-30s had participated, and they had voted in the same proportions that actual young voters did last week: i.e., 54% for Kerry vs. 44% for Bush. Then John Kerry would have received a boost of 1,927,000 votes, net. (There would have been roughly 10.4 million more votes for Kerry, but also approximately 8.47 million more for Bush.) In reality, the Democratic ticket lost the popular vote by 3,510,358. Therefore, even with 100% turnout among the 18-29s, Kerry would have lost the election by 1.58 million votes.

Moral: youth turnout wasn’t the problem for Democrats. They lost because Americans preferred the Republican ticket in ’04.