what you get here

This is not a blog which opines on current events. It rather uses incidents, books (old and new), links and papers to muse about our social endeavours.
So old posts are as good as new! And lots of useful links!

The Bucegi mountains - the range I see from the front balcony of my mountain house - are almost 120 kms from Bucharest and cannot normally be seen from the capital but some extraordinary weather conditions allowed this pic to be taken from the top of the Intercontinental Hotel in late Feb 2020

Thursday, June 29, 2023

"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

Tuesday, June 27, 2023

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 businesson 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