"The Search for Democracy" – a 56 year journey

This was the title of a book I wrote in 1977 for community activists trying to understand the new Scottish local government which had been introduced a few years earlier. That’s 56 years ago; since when I’ve had a go at reforming the government systems of a further dozen countries. For the past few years I’ve been working on a book to explain and derive some lessons from that experience of trying to reform bureaucratic systems. It’s been running with the title “Change for the Better? A Life in Reform” but this morning I suddenly realised that a better title is perhaps the one I’ve given this post?  

John Ralston Saul is a Canadian political thinker who wrote in 1992 one of my favourite books 

“Voltaire’s Bastards – the dictatorship of reason in the West” which contained the wonderful 

sentence

"We've spent half a century arguing over management methods. If there are solutions to our 

confusions over government, they lie in democratic not management processes" 

which is now one of the quotations I use on my blog to convey the spirit in which it is written. What I want to do in this post is to convey a sense of how my thinking about democracy has evolved in the past half-century. In a nutshell – as the Saul quote suggests - I've been too fixated on the political aspects of democracy and have totally ignored the economic aspects which Richard Wolff has so brilliantly conveyed in his “Democracy at Work – a cure for Capitalism”

A long 1977 article entitled Community Development – its administrative and political challenge which I had published in a Social Work journal gives a sense of the thinking which drove some of us in our perception of conditions in the West of Scotland - arguing that

Our society is hardly what one would call a participatory democracy. The term that

is used - "representative" democracy - recognises that "the people" do not take 

political decisions but have rather surrender that power to one tor several) small elites 

- subject to infrequent checks  Such checks are, of course, a rather weak base 

on which to rest claims for democracy4 and more emphasis is therefore given to the 

freedom of expression and organisation whereby pressure groups articulate a 

variety of interests. Those who defend the consequent operation of the political 

process argue that we have, in effect a political market place in which valid or strongly 

supported ideas survive and are absorbed into new policies. They further argue that 

every viewpoint or interest has a more or less equal chance of finding expression 

and recognition. This is the political theory of pluralism.
Community development disputes this view of the operation of the policy process. At its 

most extreme - in some theories of community action - it argues that the whole process 

is a gigantic confidence trick. In its more liberal version it merely wants to strengthen 

the voice of certain inarticulate members of society. There is, I would suggest, a relatively 

simple way to test the claims of those who argue that there is little scope for 

improvement in the operation of our democratic process and that any deficiencies 

are attributable to the faults of individuals rather than to the system. It involves 

looking at how new policies emerge.

The policy process
A key question is: How does government hear and act upon the signals from below? 

How do "problems" get on the political "agenda"? The assumption of our society, 

good "liberals" that most of us essentially are, is that

• the channels relating governors to governed are neutral and

• the opportunity to articulate grievances and have these defined (if they are significant 

• enough) as "problems" requiring action from authority is evenly distributed throughout 

• society.

"Problems" emerge because individuals or groups feel dissatisfied and articulate 

and organise that dissatisfaction in an influential way which makes it difficult for 

government to resist. "Grievance" or "dissatisfaction" is not. however, a simple concept - 

it arises when a judgement is made that events fall short of what one has reason to expect. 

Grievance reflects the relationship between “expectations” and “perceived 

performance” – with working-class people being bludgeoned to expect mere crumbs 

and to be grateful.
Community development staff were, in a sense, the shock-troops to help make the pluralist 

system work again.

As we were drafting our first slim attempt at a strategy in 1975, the Labour government was winding down what had become an increasingly critical Community Development Programme – reflected in John Bennington’s Local G vernment Becomes Big Business; (CDP 1976); and Gilding the Ghetto – the state and the poverty experiments (CDP 1977) Little wonder the Labour government regretted opening the Pandora's box of community development! By then, the country was being increasingly assailed with economic problems which are usefully outlined in this article

Our Desperate Need for Humility

This blog may strike many readers as an opinionated one but let me assure you that I am more of a hesitant mugwump – with my bum on both sides of the fence. I am loathe to choose sides – not least because I can see so many. Indeed it’s why the blog carries the name it does. It’s a celebration of the benefits from looking at the world from different angles. An article by Agnes Callard n the current issue of the Boston Review impressed me both for the clarity of the language and the message it contained about the importance of questioning loose thinking.

This blog may strike many readers as an opinionated one but let me assure you that I am more of a hesitant mugwump – with my bum on both sides of the fence.

I am loathe to choose sides – not least because I can see so many. Indeed it’s why the blog carries the name it does. It’s a celebration of the benefits from looking at the world from different angles. An article by Agnes Callard n the current issue of the Boston Review impressed me both for the clarity of the language and the message it contained about the importance of questioning loose thinking.

Socrates did not write philosophy; he simply went around talking to people. But these 

conversations were so transformative that Plato devoted his life to writing dialogues 

that represent Socrates in conversation. These dialogues are not transcripts of actual 

conversations, but they are nonetheless clearly intended to reflect not only Socrates’s 

ideas but his personality. Plato wanted the world to remember Socrates. Generations 

after Socrates’s death, warring philosophical schools such as the Stoics and the 

Skeptics each appropriated Socrates as figurehead. Though they disagreed on just 

about every point of doctrine, they were clear that in order to count themselves as 

philosophers they had to somehow be working in the tradition of Socrates
Over and over again, Socrates approaches people who are remarkable for their lack 

of humility—which is to say, for the fact that they feel confident in their own 

knowledge of what is just, or pious, or brave, or moderate. You might have supposed 

that Socrates, whose claim to fame is his awareness of his own ignorance, would 

treat these self-proclaimed “wise men” (Sophists) with contempt, hostility, or 

indifference. But he doesn’t. The most remarkable feature of Socrates’s 

approach is his punctilious politeness and sincere enthusiasm. 
The conversation usually begins with Socrates asking his interlocutor: Since you 

think you know, can you tell me, what is courage (or wisdom, or piety, or justice . . .)? 

Over and over again, it turns out that they think they can answer, but they can’t. 

Socrates’s hope springs eternal: even as he walks toward the courtroom to be tried

—and eventually put to death—for his philosophical activity, he is delighted to 

encounter the self-important priest Euthyphro, who will, surely, be able to say what 

piety is. (Spoiler: he’s not.) 

Her article resonates with those of us who are sceptical of the mainstream media (MSM) and the polarisation brought by the social media

Most people steer conversations into areas where they have expertise; they struggle to admit error; they have a background confidence that they have a firm grip on the basics. They are happy to think of other people – people who have different political or religious views, or got a different kind of education, or live in a different part of the world - as ignorant and clueless. They are eager to claim the status of knowledge for everything they themselves think.

Socrates saw the pursuit of knowledge as a collaborative project involving two 

very different roles. There’s you or I or some other representative of Most People, 

who comes forward and makes a bold claim. Then there’s Socrates, or one of his 

contemporary descendants, who questions and interrogates and distinguishes and 

calls for clarification. This is something we’re often still doing—as philosophers, 

as scientists, as interviewers, as friends, on Twitter and Facebook and in many 

casual personal conversations. We’re constantly probing one another, asking, 

“How can you say that, given X, Y, Z?” We’re still trying to understand one another 

by way of objection, clarification, and the simple fact of inability to take what 

someone has said as knowledge. It comes so naturally to us to organize ourselves 

into the knower/objector pairing that we don’t even notice we are living in the 

world that Socrates made. The scope of his influence is remarkable. But equally 

remarkable is the means by which it was achieved: he did so much by knowing, 

writing, and accomplishing—nothing at all. 
And yet for all this influence, many of our ways are becoming far from Socratic. 

More and more our politics are marked by unilateral persuasion instead of 

collaborative inquiry. If, like Socrates, you view knowledge as an essentially 

collaborative project, you don’t go into a conversation expecting to persuade any 

more than you expect to be persuaded. 
By contrast, if you do assume you know, you embrace the role of persuader in advance, 

and stand ready to argue people into agreement. If argument fails, you might tolerate 

a state of disagreement—but if the matter is serious enough, you’ll resort to enforcing 

your view through incentives or punishments. Socrates’s method eschewed the pressure 

to persuade. At the same time, he did not tolerate tolerance. His politics of humility 

involved genuinely opening up the question under dispute, in such a way that neither party 

would be permitted to close it, to settle on an answer, unless the other answered the same. 

By contrast, our politics—of persuasion, tolerance, incentives, and punishment—is deeply 

uninquisitive. 

But the additional message it contains is the value of geniune exchanges – of real conversations and here we enter the realm made famous by Theodor Zeldin (who will be 90 in a few weeks and is perhaps best known for his encouragement of the art of conversation). He is also a maverick historian whose books have searched for answers to three main questions

• Where can a person find more inspiring ways of spending each day?

• What ambitions remain unexplored, beyond happiness, prosperity, faith, love, technology, or therapy?

• What role could there be for individuals with independent minds, or those who feel isolated, different, or are sometimes labeled as misfits?

His work has brought people together to engage in conversations in a variety

 of settings – communal and business – on the basis of some basic principles
His latest book is The Hidden Pleasures of Life It's an epub so does need 

conversion

Socrates did not write philosophy; he simply went around talking to people. But these conversations

 were so transformative that Plato devoted his life to writing dialogues that represent Socrates in 

conversation. These dialogues are not transcripts of actual conversations, but they are nonetheless

 clearly intended to reflect not only Socrates’s ideas but his personality. Plato wanted the world to 

remember Socrates. Generations after Socrates’s death, warring philosophical schools such as the 

Stoics and the Skeptics each appropriated Socrates as figurehead. Though they disagreed on just 

about every point of doctrine, they were clear that in order to count themselves as philosophers they 

had to somehow be working in the tradition of Socrates.
Over and over again, Socrates approaches people who are remarkable for their lack of humility—which 

is to say, for the fact that they feel confident in their own knowledge of what is just, or pious, or 

brave, or moderate. You might have supposed that Socrates, whose claim to fame is his awareness of 

his own ignorance, would treat these self-proclaimed “wise men” (Sophists) with contempt, hostility, 

or indifference. But he doesn’t. The most remarkable feature of Socrates’s approach is his 

punctilious politeness and sincere enthusiasm. 
The conversation usually begins with Socrates asking his interlocutor: Since you think you know, can 

you tell me, what is courage (or wisdom, or piety, or justice . . .)? Over and over again, it turns out that 

they think they can answer, but they can’t. Socrates’s hope springs eternal: even as he walks toward 

the courtroom to be tried—and eventually put to death—for his philosophical activity, he is delighted 

to encounter the self-important priest Euthyphro, who will, surely, be able to say what piety is. 

(Spoiler: he’s not.) 

Her article resonates with those of us who are sceptical of the mainstream media (MSM) and the polarisation brought by the social media

Most people steer conversations into areas where they have expertise; they struggle to admit error; they have 

a background confidence that they have a firm grip on the basics. They are happy to think of other people - people 

who have different political or religious views, or got a different kind of education, or live in a different part of 

the world - as ignorant and clueless. They are eager to claim the status of knowledge for everything they themselves think. 

Socrates saw the pursuit of knowledge as a collaborative project involving two very different roles. 

There’s you or I or some other representative of Most People, who comes forward and makes a bold claim. Then 

there’s Socrates, or one of his contemporary descendants, who questions and interrogates and distinguishes and 

calls for clarification. This is something we’re often still doing—as philosophers, as scientists, as interviewers, as 

friends, on Twitter and Facebook and in many casual personal conversations. We’re constantly probing one another,

 asking, “How can you say that, given X, Y, Z?” We’re still trying to understand one another by way of objection, 

clarification, and the simple fact of inability to take what someone has said as knowledge. It comes so naturally 

to us to organize ourselves into the knower/objector pairing that we don’t even notice we are living in the world 

that Socrates made. The scope of his influence is remarkable. But equally remarkable is the means by which it was 

achieved: he did so much by knowing, writing, and accomplishing—nothing at all. 
And yet for all this influence, many of our ways are becoming far from Socratic. More and more our politics 

are marked by unilateral persuasion instead of collaborative inquiry. If, like Socrates, you view knowledge as an 

essentially collaborative project, you don’t go into a conversation expecting to persuade any more than you expect 

to be persuaded. 

By contrast, if you do assume you know, you embrace the role of persuader in advance, and stand ready to argue 

people into agreement. If argument fails, you might tolerate a state of disagreement—but if the matter is serious 

enough, you’ll resort to enforcing your view through incentives or punishments. Socrates’s method eschewed the 

pressure to persuade. At the same time, he did not tolerate tolerance. His politics of humility involved genuinely 

opening up the question under dispute, in such a way that neither party would be permitted to close it, to settle 

on an answer, unless the other answered the same. By contrast, our politics—of persuasion, tolerance, incentives, 

and punishment—is deeply uninquisitive. 

But the additional message it contains is the value of geniune exchanges – of real conversations and here we enter the realm made famous by Theodor Zeldin (who will be 90 in a few weeks and is perhaps best known for his encouragement of the art of conversation). He is also a maverick historian whose books have searched for answers to three main questions

• Where can a person find more inspiring ways of spending each day?

• What ambitions remain unexplored, beyond happiness, prosperity, faith, love, technology, or therapy?

• What role could there be for individuals with independent minds, or those who feel 

• isolated, different, or are sometimes labeled as misfits?

His work has brought people together to engage in conversations in a variety of settings 

– communal and business – on the basis of some basic principles
His latest book is The Hidden Pleasures of Life It's an epub so does need conversion

A Zeldin Resource

http://www.gurteen.com/gurteen/gurteen.nsf/id/book-conversation

https://www.researchgate.net/publication/263330798_Zeldin_Theodore_1998_Conversation

http://www.oxfordmuse.com/media/muse-brochure[final].pdf

hidden pleasures of life http://www.anilgomes.com/uploads/2/3/9/7/23976281/gomes_tls.pdf

http://delarue.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/OLC-April-2011_DeLaRue_Art-of-Conversation.pdf