By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, October 8th, 2012 
I woke up Saturday morning blown away by Charles Blow. His witty defense of PBS in his column is perfect. PBS as the enactment of the ideal of a democratic culture: refined, enlightening, open, inclusive, transforming. Blow presents not only illuminating personal reflections gleaned from the one gaffe of the Presidential debate on Wednesday, the dissing of Big Bird and PBS, as Aron Hsiao’s post yesterday analyzed, Blow also significantly addresses one of the crucial fields of contestation in American history: the perils to and promise of cultural excellence in a democracy. I have been thinking about this issue for much of my career. It was at the center of my book The Cynical Society: The Culture of Politics and the Politics of Culture in American Life. Blow shows how Big Bird and his Sesame Street friends, along with much else in PBS programing, contribute in a significant way to the health of the republic and its citizens.
Blow celebrates the character of Big Bird as it contributed to his own character. “I’m down with Big Bird.” Being black and poor in rural America, in the absence of good schools, PBS became his top quality primary and secondary schools. His uncle daily cared for him and permitted only one hour of PBS TV each day. (The same regime, I used with my kids. I wonder: how many millions were so raised?)
Blows imagination was sparked. His thirst for knowledge was quenched. He learned about science through nature programs, to his mind his SAT prep. He devoured arts programs, which he believes enabled him, a college English major without formal art training, to work as the design director of The New York Times and the art director of National Geographic magazine.
“I don’t really expect Mitt Romney to understand the value of something like PBS to people, like me, who grew up in poor, rural areas and went to small schools. These are places with no museums or preschools or after-school educational programs. There wasn’t money for travel or to pay . . .
Read more: On “Don’t Mess with Big Bird”
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, September 24th, 2012 
Iris responded to my post on the President’s address at the Democratic convention, underscoring that citizenship was the central theme of Obama’s speech at the Democratic Convention. Although I didn’t emphasize this, I agree and want to expand upon her point today by highlighting the president’s words and adding a few reflections. The citizenship theme, the way it was presented and imagined, not only tied the Democratic Convention itself together. It promises to make coherent the Obama campaign and contribute to the possibility of a transformational second term of the President Obama, as Andrew Sullivan explores in his Daily Beast essay today. It also has provided a way to read the day to day events of the campaign, such as the joint appearances of Romney and Obama on last night’s Sixty Minutes.
As I have emphasized, the way the president presented himself, his serious demeanor and mode of address was as important as the content of his address. Non-verbal communication mattered. But so did the verbal. The President told a simple story with a beginning and a middle, inviting his audience to write the end. Vote. Stay active. Engage in citizenship responsibilities to your fellow citizens and country. It’s all there in his words.
He told a personal story:
Now, the first time I addressed this convention in 2004, I was a younger man, a Senate candidate from Illinois, who spoke about hope — not blind optimism, not wishful thinking, but hope in the face of difficulty; hope in the face of uncertainty; that dogged faith in the future which has pushed this nation forward, even when the odds are great, even when the road is long.
But the personal had a political – public message:
Eight years later, that hope has been tested by the cost of war, by one of the worst economic crises in history, and by political gridlock that’s left us wondering whether it’s still even possible to tackle the . . .
Read more: The President’s Speech: Citizenship and the American Story
By Esther Kreider-Verhalle, December 15th, 2011 
One Russian blogger has dubbed his country’s current developments “Russia’s Great December Evolution,” a quip on the Great October Revolution of 1917, and many mass media have eagerly reported the signs of a Russian Winter, following the Arab Spring. Interestingly, almost all Russia watchers who for years have categorized the new Russia as an increasingly authoritarian state where democratic reforms have ceased or failed altogether, are warming up to the possibility of a more democratic Russia.
However, some very significant developments that have been mostly overlooked by both researchers and journalists are aspects of social transformation in the past twenty years combined with long existing germs of democracy. These phenomena have convinced me that democratic ideas and practices exist in Russia. Hence, I was happy to see that during one of the recent demonstrations a participant carried around a sign that read, “We exist.”
Yes, of course it is important to note that Russia’s current political system can be described as a façade democracy or managed democracy, whose leaders are neither interacting with the citizens nor showing any interest in letting them participate in a meaningful way. Nor have these leaders been capable to respond appropriately to social change. This Potemkin political system ignores but has not killed the citizens’ democratic values. Developments such as changes in work ethic, entrepreneurialism, increased foreign travel, and the rising use of new (social) media all need to be taken into account when analyzing the political values of Russians in their daily lives, and ultimately, understanding the country’s political reality.
Part of that political reality is the understanding that Russia’s aspirations for democracy go far back, thinking mainly of the alternative political culture that Russian emigrants and Soviet dissidents helped flourish, even though it was not manifested publicly. Soviet citizens had learned to cope with many of the practical difficulties and hardships of daily life through an effective system of social informal networks. Over time, Soviet citizens had created varied responses to . . .
Read more: Russia’s Democratic Ideas and Practices
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, September 20th, 2011 
I am teaching the foundations course in our graduate program this year: “Classical Sociological Theory.” It’s a challenge. The last time I taught such a class was thirty years ago. Yet, it’s a challenge worth taking. Aside from the matters of departmental needs and resources, this is something that I believe will be particularly interesting for me, and also for my students. Over those thirty years, I have actively thought about the events of the day, and about my research, using foundational thinkers (though some more than others), “standing on the shoulders of giants.” It is exciting to revisit old friends, including, among others, Max Weber, Emile Durkheim, Georg Simmel and George Herbert Mead, and spend some time, introducing them to students at the beginning of their professional training.
The first theorist was easy, Alexis de Tocqueville. I have taught an undergraduate class on his masterpiece, Democracy in America, frequently. My new book, Reinventing Political Culture: The Power of Culture versus the Culture of Power, is not only informed by Tocqueville’s approach to culture and democracy. It is in a sense in dialogue with Tocqueville. And as the readers of Deliberately Considered know when I look at current events, I often interpret them using the insights of Tocqueville from understanding the nature of the American party system and for contemporary political debate, such as the struggle over workers’ rights in Wisconsin.
Karl Marx, the second theorist we examined in our class, is another matter. Like many intellectuals since his time, I have a history with Marx. As I told the class in an introduction to our discussions last week, when I was young and especially critical, I thought that to be critical required one to read, know and act through Marx. I remember having a course in high school which I found particularly upsetting, “The Problems of Communism.” The author of the class text was J. Edgar Hoover, the head of the F.B. I. Talk about the state ideological apparatus, as . . .
Read more: Teaching the Classics: Reflections of an Ex-Marxist Wannabe
By Rafael Narvaez, August 10th, 2011 
The strength of the United States, Barack Obama said during his Presidential campaign, lies neither in its arsenal nor in its banks, but in the ideas that have defined its history. Max Weber and Alexis de Tocqueville would have recognized this as no mere rhetorical gesture. To simplify, the institutional apparatus of the country rests on the concepts of equality and freedom. In the United States, equality and freedom are not simply ideas in a book, de Toqueville argues, but instead, are the root of everything. The judicial, economic, educational, and religious systems are largely governed by these ideas, which throughout history have been progressively institutionalized, internalized, always emphasized, and of course sometimes distorted. The country largely revolves around principles such as economic, religious, and cultural freedom and the principle of equality before the law. This leads me to wonder, might the U.S.’s greatest strengths also be its most significant vulnerabilities?
 As a foreigner, I am sometimes mystified, and sometimes awed, by the radical consequences of the foundational freedoms in the U.S.. For instance, the freedom to say anything, including, to cite a recent Supreme Court decision, the freedom to hurl anti-gay slurs at mourners attending a funeral. Even such speech acts are protected under a firm system of liberties, the firmest that I know of. On the other hand, I am also bemused when friends at a restaurant divide the bill to exactly reflect what each one of the eaters has consumed, dollar by dollar, with due attention to the price of each and every item. A “depraved taste” for equality, de Tocqueville would say.
De Tocqueville argues that liberty and equality are always in tension in America; economic liberty, for example, may go against the principle of equality, as it often does. Or, vice versa, the push for equality may curtail some liberties. But the system, he adds, has built-in mechanisms designed to keep the needed equilibrium in place. Again, I am being schematic: of course the system is more complex and there is more to America’s history than . . .
Read more: Thinking like a Terrorist
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, February 23rd, 2011 
Alexis de Tocqueville thought, as I observed in an earlier post, that after the grand principled politics of the earliest years of the Republic, American parties and politics would be about minor issues. About dividing up the spoils, not about the definition of what democracy is and how it should be enacted. His important insight was to distinguish between two different forms of political contestation. He correctly noted that American politics would be mostly about dividing the spoils, resting upon a general consensus about fundamental principles. But what he missed is that fundamental conflicts have a way, episodically, of reappearing, sometimes quite unexpectedly, and even with a slight of hand. Such is our present situation.
This became clear to me as I was surfing the web this morning and came across a post by Jonah Goldberg at the National Review online. He openly made the move from petit to grand politics in Tocqueville’s sense.
“The protesting public-school teachers with fake doctor’s notes swarming the capitol building in Madison, Wis., insist that Gov. Scott Walker is hell-bent on “union busting.” Walker denies that his effort to reform public-sector unions in Wisconsin is anything more than an honest attempt at balancing the state’s books.
I hope the protesters are right. Public unions have been a 50-year mistake.”
Goldberg argues against the very idea of public employee unions, going a step further than the aggressive Governor of Wisconsin. For Goldberg it is all about the principle, as he supports a politician who must get on with practical political concerns. As Max Weber would put it, Walker uses an apparent ethic of responsibility, fiscal balance, to hide his ultimate ends; attacking the public employees’ unions. Walker governs responsibly, moving toward the principled goal.
But there is more than meets the eye in Goldberg’s essay, which is framed around the idea that unions in the private sector fought a valiant and historic struggle against capitalist exploitation, while public unions just stand for stealing from the public coffers. On the page where his post appears, . . .
Read more: Libertarianism versus Workers’ Rights in Wisconsin
By Jeffrey C. Goldfarb, November 3rd, 2010
The Republicans won. The Democrats lost. Obama faces a significant challenge to his leadership. The Tea Party has come to town. Politics in the Capital are about to become very interesting. The political scene has changed. Now we must deliberately consider: what the play will look like, who the actors will be, what will be their roles, how will they play them, and are we in for a comedy or tragedy. Some initial food for thought using Alexis de Tocqueville as our guide.
Tocqueville in the 1830s described two types of political parties, great political parties and small political parties. He explained:
“What I call great political parties are those that are attached more to principles than to their consequences; to generalities and not to particular cases; to ideas and not to men. These parties generally have nobler features, more generous passions, more real convictions, a franker and bolder aspect than others. Particular interests, which always plays the greatest role in political passions, hides more skillfully here under the veil of public interest…
Small parties, on the contrary, are generally without political faith. As they do not feel themselves elevated and sustained by great objects, their character is stamped with a selfishness that shows openly in each of their acts. They always become heated in a cool way; their language is violent but their course is timid and uncertain. The means that they employ are miserable, as is the very goal they propose for themselves. Hence it is that when a time of calm follows a violent revolution, great men seem to disappear all at once and souls withdraw into themselves.
Americans have had great parties; today they no longer exist: it has gained much in happiness, but not in morality.” (link)
Tocqueville thought that the fundamental principles of American political life were established in the great debates between the Democratic – Republicans and the Federalists, between Jefferson, Hamilton, et.al, and that once the order was set, politics would be of a more mundane sort about dividing the spoils and . . .
Read more: The Results Were Expected
|
Blogroll
On the Left
On the Right
|