Renewing democracy through practice
Karen Stanbridge writes: Democracy is a skill and we’re out of practice. Not just Newfoundlanders and Labradorians, mind you, but everyone who has become accustomed to expecting, and allowing, elected officials to take decisions on their behalf, and elected officials who expect to be allowed to do so.
Democracy is a skill and we’re out of practice. Not just Newfoundlanders and Labradorians, mind you, but everyone who has become accustomed to expecting, and allowing, elected officials to take decisions on their behalf, and elected officials who expect to be allowed to do so. There are lots of reasons for this situation, some of which are unique to the province, most of which are not. All of them add up to the same thing: we’ve not been practising democracy nearly enough, especially in our daily lives, to be any good at it.
Political scientist Robert Putnam noticed this happening in the United States some years ago. In Bowling Alone (2000), Putnam looked at how Americans’ participation in groups with varied membership like bowling leagues, bridge clubs, and the like had declined over time. He said that, as a result, people’s stock of “social capital,” or the number and breadth of their social networks, had declined considerably over the past 50 years.
Consequently, people were not cultivating the dispositions needed to sustain democratic political cultures, things like trust in others, knowledge of and adherence to norms of reciprocity, and the ability (and humility) to negotiate, co-operate, and compromise with others who share different views.
Notice here that Putnam was not blaming the usual suspects for the deterioration of our democratic processes: political apathy; corrupt government officials who misspend taxpayer dollars; the sense that the political game is “rigged” to service big business or “bleeding heart” liberals; and so forth. These are real concerns, but they are largely symptoms of broader processes that have manifested in people’s withdrawal from public life. And as we’ve withdrawn, we’ve become less and less able to conceive, let alone undertake, the hard work involved in cultivating consensus among people holding views different than our own.
Almost 20 years later, things have just gotten worse. Social media have the potential to expand people’s social capital to encompass associations with those who have very different world views. However, it is often a means to block opposing perspectives and stoke exclusive ones. Technologies like smart phones have made it possible for us to communicate immediately through time and space, but these devices also let us avoid contact with others in our immediate surroundings. Although we’ve never had so many opportunities to interact with people who aren’t like us, we just don’t need to, nor are there the same kinds of social pressures to belong to the associations that used to bring us together. As a result, our democratic muscles have atrophied, and our political cultures have suffered for it.
But it’s possible to get our democratic “chops” back, or at least in better shape: through practice. Of course, this takes time and effort and the will to stick to the task even when it’s easier not to. Those of us who do not occupy political office have to work against all the forces that encourage us to turn inward, to disappear into our homes and into the echo chambers of our member forums and Facebook feeds, and become accustomed to living more “open” lives. Those of us in government have to overcome institutional imperatives that foster contention over negotiation and consensus-building. Together this amounts to all of us giving over some of the control that we exercise over our own circumstances so that we can develop capacities that help us to condemn less and trust each other more.
Let me add quickly that I’m not advocating for a “return” to some folksy, tech-free (and imaginary) past where people were more accepting of difference and elected officials were more accessible and willing to act on the desires of their constituents. I’d just like that more of us commit to practising democracy. We can do this by involving ourselves in activities that will help us to develop our democratic dispositions. If we focus our efforts on our immediate communities, we can even help shape them in innovative ways.
In this respect, there are models we can follow. The Transition Towns (TT) movement for example, provides guidance to people who are tired of waiting for governments to act and who just want to get on with transitioning to low(er) carbon, to more ecologically sustainable ways of living. Whatever location-specific, grassroots-led initiative you and your neighbours might devise — establishing a food-growing network, creating a neighbourhood transportation system, or generating community-owned energy — TT can give you advice on how to proceed. The key is that all decisions are taken collectively, which gives participants the chance to practise real democracy while contributing to their well-being and to that of their neighbours.
Although Tt-type initiatives are about people on the ground “just doing stuff,” governments can help too. They can, for example, make advisers available who will consolidate information on the administrative and legal requirements around ventures like these, for example, the approvals groups need if they want to start a community-owned bakery or establish a local reuse and repair service. These “bureaucracy wranglers” can help community groups struggling to negotiate with multiple government offices to navigate these networks. Democracy-enabling activities like these don’t cost a lot of money; they just take the will to do them. Indeed, these things are right in the wheelhouse of the provincial government’s Office of Public Engagement. By helping smooth the processes by which local undertakings are put into effect, the province can show that it supports our efforts to practice democracy and is willing to guide us as we work to renew our democratic proclivities.
Or maybe we just need to join a neighbourhood bowling league. Really, it doesn’t matter how we start, as long as whatever we do lets us stretch our democratic muscles. Democracy is hard work and we’re out of practice; we can start slowly or aim higher, but it’s time we get to it.
About the Author
Karen Stanbridge (Sociology, Memorial University of Newfoundland) is a political sociologist who studies the state, social movements, and nationalism. Among her recent publications are “Political Sociology Is Dead. Long Live Political Sociology?” (with D. Béland and H. Ramos), Canadian Review of Sociology 53, 3 (2016): 337–9, and “Thrift and the Good Child Citizen: The Junior Thrift Clubs in Confederation-era Newfoundland” (with Jonathan Luedee), in L. Cullum and M. Porter, eds., Creating This Place (Montreal and Kingston: Mcgill-queen’s University Press, 2014).