Reading Paul Rogat Loeb's inspiring volume of short civic engagement essays "The Impossible Will Take a Little While," I came across a piece by Danusha Veronica Goska which struck me as especially poignant. In it, she describes her own struggles with perilymph fistula, a condition that strikes its victims without warning. One day she is fine, another day she is literally paralyzed, unable to move. Although it can be cured through a relatively simple operation, that operation costs money, money Ms. Goska did not have.
As her essay opens, she recounts a conference participant's sense of helplessness regarding her efforts to bring about social change. She quotes her as saying that she lives with the despair of her own powerlessness. "I have so little power," this frustrated would-be activist observes. "I feel so paralyzed." This comment elicits a Vesuvius-like eruption from Ms. Goska, who comments that she struggles with intermittent bouts of paralysis herself, but this is not metaphorical paralysis, it is literal paralysis. Some days she can move, some days she can't. But..."the difference between being able to walk across the room and not being able to walk across the room is epic." The issue, Ms. Goska observes, is "not that we have so little power. The problem is that we don't use the power that we have."
If we can walk, if we can talk, if we can write, if we have a voice, we have the power to bring about positive change. It is up to us to make the most of that power and to recognize that its potential for influencing others and for bringing about social transformation should never be underestimated.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Museums as Sites for Democratic Engagement
Made a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in Manhattan today and while there spent extended periods looking at special exhibits about two artists - the 20th century French master Henri Matisse and the 20th century American realist George Bellows. Both exhibits were wonderful and in both occasions there were opportunities to study the working methods of these two highly accomplished artists. Specifics aside, my time there also made me think about the role museums can play in honing its patrons' observational skills and developing their capacities for critical reflection.
Being in an art museum is above all about close and intense looking. It is at the very least taking the time to examine what curators consider to be works of art and making some assessments of one's own about what is appealing or powerful or emotionally moving. Whether one goes alone or with others, the expectation is that visitors are absorbing the works of art they see, thinking about them, perhaps talking about them, in rare cases, sketching or even writing about them. In any case, conclusions are being drawn as to which works were especially interesting and might be worth revisiting in the future. In other words, some process of discrimination is going on between works that might merit a second look and those that elicit little or no reaction. Being conscious of this process of deciding what one likes and what one doesn't and what the basis for these decisions might be is a form of deliberation that has great relevance for democratic engagement.
Art museums are a public setting where likes and dislikes are being constantly weighed. As it happens, so are town meetings and democratic discussions. The comparison is especially apt when visitors to art museums and participants in democratic deliberation get in the habit of considering the pros and cons of a perspective by citing reasons, examples and evidence. Without practice, we have a tendency to identify our likes or dislikes without offering persuasive support for our point of view. In many cases, this is understandable. For instance, it may be impossible to give reasons for why one prefers a particular color or a favorite food. But when it comes to our experiences, if we dig down deep enough, there are almost always reasons we can offer, stories we can tell, emotions we can recount that provide some basis for our preferences or our decisions. And the better we can get at articulating the basis for our preferences, the more likely we are to make sound, grounded decisions in the future. Which is, after all, one of the foundation stones of democracy. That is, by coming together with others to think through what we believe is best for our communities, we not only make better collective decisions, we also become better at processing with others what we want to advocate for and thus what we really want to see happen in our communities.
In this sense, then, art museums can become a site for practicing democratic deliberations, for working out with others what our commitments are and why. In fact, if I could make one recommendation to any museum that would also help to promote democratic practices, I would suggest an attractive room furnished with comfortable furniture and simple refreshments that is set aside for guided reflections about what patrons have witnessed. Such a room could be administered by trained volunteers who invite visitors to share what they have seen and to encourage them to recapture the experience of viewing an art object and what went through their minds during the viewing. It would be a chance to hear what others have experienced and think and to gain practice in stating one's opinion in an informed and grounded way.
Being in an art museum is above all about close and intense looking. It is at the very least taking the time to examine what curators consider to be works of art and making some assessments of one's own about what is appealing or powerful or emotionally moving. Whether one goes alone or with others, the expectation is that visitors are absorbing the works of art they see, thinking about them, perhaps talking about them, in rare cases, sketching or even writing about them. In any case, conclusions are being drawn as to which works were especially interesting and might be worth revisiting in the future. In other words, some process of discrimination is going on between works that might merit a second look and those that elicit little or no reaction. Being conscious of this process of deciding what one likes and what one doesn't and what the basis for these decisions might be is a form of deliberation that has great relevance for democratic engagement.
Art museums are a public setting where likes and dislikes are being constantly weighed. As it happens, so are town meetings and democratic discussions. The comparison is especially apt when visitors to art museums and participants in democratic deliberation get in the habit of considering the pros and cons of a perspective by citing reasons, examples and evidence. Without practice, we have a tendency to identify our likes or dislikes without offering persuasive support for our point of view. In many cases, this is understandable. For instance, it may be impossible to give reasons for why one prefers a particular color or a favorite food. But when it comes to our experiences, if we dig down deep enough, there are almost always reasons we can offer, stories we can tell, emotions we can recount that provide some basis for our preferences or our decisions. And the better we can get at articulating the basis for our preferences, the more likely we are to make sound, grounded decisions in the future. Which is, after all, one of the foundation stones of democracy. That is, by coming together with others to think through what we believe is best for our communities, we not only make better collective decisions, we also become better at processing with others what we want to advocate for and thus what we really want to see happen in our communities.
In this sense, then, art museums can become a site for practicing democratic deliberations, for working out with others what our commitments are and why. In fact, if I could make one recommendation to any museum that would also help to promote democratic practices, I would suggest an attractive room furnished with comfortable furniture and simple refreshments that is set aside for guided reflections about what patrons have witnessed. Such a room could be administered by trained volunteers who invite visitors to share what they have seen and to encourage them to recapture the experience of viewing an art object and what went through their minds during the viewing. It would be a chance to hear what others have experienced and think and to gain practice in stating one's opinion in an informed and grounded way.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Democracy's Multiple Meanings
Today, in this second entry of a new blog about democratic engagement, I want to explore the multiple meanings of democratic from the point of view of my own work.
As a Professor of Civic Engagement at Wagner College, I seek to make stronger connections between the college and the wider community in order to deepen student learning and to help students see how their learning in the classroom can be applied to real community problems. In the process, we at Wagner hope to raise the civic consciousness of students, to give them confidence that their thinking and their actions can have an impact on the community's quality of life. Finally, we want the students and the college as whole to learn to partner with the community, to see everyone, in the community and at the college, as both learners and potential teachers, and thereby to bring about positive change throughout the community that contributes to everyone's overall well being.
From this brief summary, it follows that democratic means a number of things. First, it means that we must respect everyone's right to be part of the decision making process that will lead to positive change. Second, it means that we must create spaces for every voice to be heard and that great effort must be put into creating a deliberative process that builds on the experiences of a highly diverse population. Third, it means that whatever project we embark on or whatever goal we establish for ourselves as a partnership must be planned and carried out jointly. As noted in yesterday's post, college and university expertise has an important role to play in strategizing about community change, but no more so than the everyday and accumulated experiences of people who actually live in the community and who have been part of a long-term struggle to continue to improve that community.
There is a fourth, often neglected meaning of democratic that now animates my own efforts to build stronger and more effective college-community partnerships. Democratic refers to the fair playing field that is often proclaimed to be foundational for any just society but that has rarely, if ever, been acted upon. It follows, then, that any effort to promote democracy must focus on supporting those individuals and those groups that are the least well off. People who are hungry, who are living below the poverty line, who cannot count on decent shelter, and children who are deprived of effective early childhood education programs must be given first priority. Democracy with its implied quest for equality and justice demands this emphasis. Therefore, even if a process is respectful, broadly inclusive, and takes into account everyone's knowledge and experience, it falls short of fulfilling its true democratic potential unless it also addresses the needs of the least privileged members of our communities.
Some people might object to the above analysis because of its emphasis on equality and privileging the needy. They might insist that freedom and individual responsibility are the premier democratic values and that the approach I outline not only undermines freedom and individuality, it actually encourages dependence on the public dole. My response would point first to the importance of hearing each individual voice and of ensuring that those voices are taken into full account in making collective decisions. Rather than deemphasizing freedom and individuality, this approach embraces the individual lives and experiences of people who for too long have been excluded from our most important public deliberations.
Even if this response were convincing to detractors, however; they still might question the commitment to meeting the needs of the poor first. Aren't they poor, they might suggest, because of their failure to take full advantage of the opportunities available to them and even because of flaws in their basic characters? While it is doubtful this is true in most cases, we cannot be certain that some people face hunger and economic uncertainty owing to their own mistakes and a lack of personal discipline or fortitude. But when people are suffering and as a result are unable to contribute positively to society, doesn't it make good sense to put everything we can into promoting their future well being, just as we would want to cure their disease or heal their ills if they were sick? Ultimately, this vision for a democratic society is one in which everyone can realize themselves as human beings and meet and even exceed their individual potential. Having said that, though, the urgency to meet the needs of children who are themselves completely innocent of character flaws or inadvisable life choices makes this commitment to looking after the least well off first an irrefutable and self-evident truth.
To put it bluntly, as long as one child in four goes to bed hungry every night, democracy will remain a sham. It is thus entirely in keeping with democracy and our hopes for its future that addressing the concerns of those who suffer most is democracy's first and most urgent priority.
As a Professor of Civic Engagement at Wagner College, I seek to make stronger connections between the college and the wider community in order to deepen student learning and to help students see how their learning in the classroom can be applied to real community problems. In the process, we at Wagner hope to raise the civic consciousness of students, to give them confidence that their thinking and their actions can have an impact on the community's quality of life. Finally, we want the students and the college as whole to learn to partner with the community, to see everyone, in the community and at the college, as both learners and potential teachers, and thereby to bring about positive change throughout the community that contributes to everyone's overall well being.
From this brief summary, it follows that democratic means a number of things. First, it means that we must respect everyone's right to be part of the decision making process that will lead to positive change. Second, it means that we must create spaces for every voice to be heard and that great effort must be put into creating a deliberative process that builds on the experiences of a highly diverse population. Third, it means that whatever project we embark on or whatever goal we establish for ourselves as a partnership must be planned and carried out jointly. As noted in yesterday's post, college and university expertise has an important role to play in strategizing about community change, but no more so than the everyday and accumulated experiences of people who actually live in the community and who have been part of a long-term struggle to continue to improve that community.
There is a fourth, often neglected meaning of democratic that now animates my own efforts to build stronger and more effective college-community partnerships. Democratic refers to the fair playing field that is often proclaimed to be foundational for any just society but that has rarely, if ever, been acted upon. It follows, then, that any effort to promote democracy must focus on supporting those individuals and those groups that are the least well off. People who are hungry, who are living below the poverty line, who cannot count on decent shelter, and children who are deprived of effective early childhood education programs must be given first priority. Democracy with its implied quest for equality and justice demands this emphasis. Therefore, even if a process is respectful, broadly inclusive, and takes into account everyone's knowledge and experience, it falls short of fulfilling its true democratic potential unless it also addresses the needs of the least privileged members of our communities.
Some people might object to the above analysis because of its emphasis on equality and privileging the needy. They might insist that freedom and individual responsibility are the premier democratic values and that the approach I outline not only undermines freedom and individuality, it actually encourages dependence on the public dole. My response would point first to the importance of hearing each individual voice and of ensuring that those voices are taken into full account in making collective decisions. Rather than deemphasizing freedom and individuality, this approach embraces the individual lives and experiences of people who for too long have been excluded from our most important public deliberations.
Even if this response were convincing to detractors, however; they still might question the commitment to meeting the needs of the poor first. Aren't they poor, they might suggest, because of their failure to take full advantage of the opportunities available to them and even because of flaws in their basic characters? While it is doubtful this is true in most cases, we cannot be certain that some people face hunger and economic uncertainty owing to their own mistakes and a lack of personal discipline or fortitude. But when people are suffering and as a result are unable to contribute positively to society, doesn't it make good sense to put everything we can into promoting their future well being, just as we would want to cure their disease or heal their ills if they were sick? Ultimately, this vision for a democratic society is one in which everyone can realize themselves as human beings and meet and even exceed their individual potential. Having said that, though, the urgency to meet the needs of children who are themselves completely innocent of character flaws or inadvisable life choices makes this commitment to looking after the least well off first an irrefutable and self-evident truth.
To put it bluntly, as long as one child in four goes to bed hungry every night, democracy will remain a sham. It is thus entirely in keeping with democracy and our hopes for its future that addressing the concerns of those who suffer most is democracy's first and most urgent priority.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
An Introduction to Democratic Engagement
In all honesty, I hesitated to use the title Democratic Engagement for this new blog, but when I went looking for a title I was so surprised to see it had not been grabbed that I could not resist appropriating it.
Why the hesitation? In part, because I am fairly new to this field and have only recently come across the distinction between civic engagement and democratic engagement, especially in writings by John Saltmarsh and Matthew Hartley. What they argue in their 2011 book "To Serve a Larger Purpose" is that while civic engagement may spur colleges and universities to launch worthy involvements in their surrounding communities, these involvements are often piecemeal, rarely inclusive of community partners, and not sufficiently focused on changing the status quo. Democratic engagement, on the other hand, seeks extensive community participation, is committed to broad diversity, and strives to address very challenging community problems, such as poverty or hunger. As they go on to say, democratic engagement also entails equal respect for what every participant contributes to knowledge creation and community building. This means that although expert or scholarly knowledge is welcome, it has no more built-in respect than the everyday experiences of community members who have a deep understanding of community issues but who may lack formal education.
Democratic engagement, in other words, insists on a full partnership between higher education and the larger community. Courses, community experiences, and long-term community projects need to be shaped by all stakeholders, that is, all of the people who have a stake in the outcome of this work. This includes college teachers and administrators, but it just as importantly involves community members who have some kind of personal interest in the public issue being investigated and about which action is being taken. Perhaps most significantly, democratic engagement obliges colleges and universities to take on issues that matter, that have the potential to make a real difference in the community's quality of life. For me, this increasingly means finding ways to reduce hunger and to alleviate poverty.
A lot of people who have organized ambitious coalitions to tackle these concerns need the help of colleges and universities. I want to be part of these efforts, both as an individual citizen and as part of Wagner College's commitment to civic renewal and democratic transformation. This blog will chronicle many of these efforts.
Why the hesitation? In part, because I am fairly new to this field and have only recently come across the distinction between civic engagement and democratic engagement, especially in writings by John Saltmarsh and Matthew Hartley. What they argue in their 2011 book "To Serve a Larger Purpose" is that while civic engagement may spur colleges and universities to launch worthy involvements in their surrounding communities, these involvements are often piecemeal, rarely inclusive of community partners, and not sufficiently focused on changing the status quo. Democratic engagement, on the other hand, seeks extensive community participation, is committed to broad diversity, and strives to address very challenging community problems, such as poverty or hunger. As they go on to say, democratic engagement also entails equal respect for what every participant contributes to knowledge creation and community building. This means that although expert or scholarly knowledge is welcome, it has no more built-in respect than the everyday experiences of community members who have a deep understanding of community issues but who may lack formal education.
Democratic engagement, in other words, insists on a full partnership between higher education and the larger community. Courses, community experiences, and long-term community projects need to be shaped by all stakeholders, that is, all of the people who have a stake in the outcome of this work. This includes college teachers and administrators, but it just as importantly involves community members who have some kind of personal interest in the public issue being investigated and about which action is being taken. Perhaps most significantly, democratic engagement obliges colleges and universities to take on issues that matter, that have the potential to make a real difference in the community's quality of life. For me, this increasingly means finding ways to reduce hunger and to alleviate poverty.
A lot of people who have organized ambitious coalitions to tackle these concerns need the help of colleges and universities. I want to be part of these efforts, both as an individual citizen and as part of Wagner College's commitment to civic renewal and democratic transformation. This blog will chronicle many of these efforts.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)