I anticipated the State of the Union Address, more or less, correctly, though I underestimated Obama’s forthrightness. He entered softly, calling for bi-partisanship, but he followed up with a pretty big stick, strongly arguing for his agenda, including, most spectacularly, the matter of class and class conflict, daring the Republicans to dissent, ending the speech on a high emotional note on gun violence and the need to have a vote on legislation addressing the problem. Before the speech, I wondered how President Obama would balance assertion of his program with reaching out to Republicans. This was an assertive speech.

The script was elegantly crafted, as usual, and beautifully performed, as well. He embodied his authority, with focused political purpose aimed at the middle class. This got me thinking. As a sociologist, I find public middle class talk confusing, though over the years I have worked to understand the politics. I think last night it became clear, both the politics and the sociology.

Obama is seeking to sustain his new governing coalition, with the Democratic majority in the Senate, and the bi-partisan coalition in the House, although he is working to form the coalition more aggressively than I had expected. He is addressing the House through “the people,” with their middle class identities, aspirations and fears.

In my last post, I observed and then suggested:

“Obama’s recent legislative victories included Republican votes on the fiscal cliff and the debt ceiling. I believe he will talk about the economy in such a way that he strengthens his capacity to draw upon this new governing coalition. He will do it in the name of the middle class and those aspiring to be in the middle class. This is the formulation of Obama for ordinary folk, the popular classes, the great bulk of the demos, the people. In this speech and in others, they are the subjects of change, echoing Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address: government of the middle class and those aspiring to be in the middle class, by the middle class and those aspiring to be in the middle class, for the middle class and those aspiring to be in the middle class.”

Americans in large numbers think of themselves as being middle class, though this is hardly an identity that distinguishes much. The middle class, in the American imagination, ranges from people who barely sustain themselves to people who earn hundreds of thousands of dollars, own multiple homes and all the latest consumer trophies. The imagined middle class includes all the workers who earn a living wage in a factory, and the owners of the factory, and the managers and clerks in between. If Marx were alive, he would roll over in his grave. This American sociological imagination seems to be an illusion, a case of false consciousness if there ever was one. The puzzle: “What is the matter with Kansas?

Yet, I think it was quite clear last night that the way the middle class is imagined opens American politics. Both Obama and Marco Rubio (in his Republican response) delivered their messages in the name of the middle class. While Rubio used it to denounce Obama, big government, taxing of the wealthy and spending for the needy, Obama invoked the great middle class to defend and propose programs that clearly serve “the middle class” directly, especially Social Security and Medicare, but also aid to education, infrastructure investments and the development of jobs. The undeserving poor loomed behind Rubio’s middle class, (and made explicit in Rand Paul’s Tea Party response), while those who need some breaks and supports were the base of Obama’s middle class. Thus, the middle class and those aspiring to be in the middle class, as I anticipated, was Obama’s touchstone.

I, along with many progressive friends, have been impatient with all the talk about the middle class over the years. I wondered: where are the poor and the oppressed? In this State of the Union, the President made clear that they are central to his concern: an endangered middle class, both those who have been down so long that they haven’t been able to look up, and those who through recent experience know that they and their children are descending. Obama spoke to both groups, the frightened middle class, working people who have experienced rapid downward mobility, and those who have long been excluded from work that pays sufficiently to live decently.

Obama, using straightforward prose, addressed the members of Congress through this middle class. He advocated for “manufacturing innovation institutes,” for universal high quality pre-schools, strengthening the link between high school education and advanced technical training, addressing the costs and benefits of higher education, and raising the minimum wage. In other words, along with his discussion of Medicare, Social Security and Obamacare, he raised the immediate economic concerns of a broad swath of the American public. Noteworthy is that the concerns of the “aspiring middle class” (i.e. poor folk) were central in his presentation.

And then there was the passion focused on immigration, voting rights and gun violence. The closing crescendo, with Obama calling for a vote from Congress on gun violence, dramatically referred back to Obama’s opening, calling for concerted bi-partisan action on the crises of our time. As I heard it, this was about gun violence and its victims, but also the victims of Congressional inaction on jobs and the economy, on the sequester, on the need to invest in our future, i.e. on pressing issues concerning the middle class and those who aspire to be in the middle class. The closing was powerfully delivered, as the response to the delivery was even more powerful. As Obama takes his message to the country in the coming days, and as Democrats and Republicans start negotiations about the budget, I think that there is a real possibility that the coalition that formed in negotiating the resolution to the fiscal cliff and debt ceiling conflicts may very well lead to necessary action, at least to some degree, and they will be debating about the right things, at last.

On a bright June 15th President Obama directed the Department of Homeland Security to use their prosecutorial discretion to discontinue the deportation of those young undocumented immigrants under the age of 30 who had arrived in the United States before they turned sixteen, had lived here for at least five years, had not been convicted of a crime, and had graduated from high school or are currently in school. The standing rhetorical trope was that these youngsters should not be punished for being brought to America “through no fault of their own.” While some complained that the president did not have the right to determine which laws should be enforced or that the policy turnabout was cynical, so close as it is to a hard-fought election, much of the response, including the reaction from many Republicans, was that the policy, if not the process, was right.

Again and again we heard the mantra that children should not be punished for acts that were not their fault. How could a three-year-old decide whether to live in Tampa or Tampico? How could a seventeen-year-old valedictorian decide to return “home” to Veracruz when her family lived in Santa Cruz? According to surveys, most supported the idea that it was fundamentally unfair to prosecute and persecute these children.

This rare bipartisan comity raised an underlying issue. Many things happen to children through no fault of their own. Do we as a society have the responsibility to respond to these generational fault lines? Most dramatic are the pernicious effects of poverty. Just as some children are brought across the border in violation of immigration laws, other children are born into home-grown poverty through no fault of their own. Or they are brought up in familial environments of violence, drugs, neglect, and abuse. Does society have any responsibility in ameliorating the damage?

Perhaps we claim that these are fundamentally different matters. In the case of undocumented children, we are merely deciding that, if they pass our moral hurdles, they be left alone. This seems like a sturdy libertarian solution on which liberals and conservatives can find common ground. No resources are being transferred, and money is saved by the non-enforcement of not-very-enforceable immigration laws.

If we take seriously the rhetoric of “no fault” in poverty or other abusive realms, we would be forced to do more than to turn our backs and shade our eyes. Children go hungry and are badly clothed through no fault of their own. But as a society, we let those inequalities remain, because it would mean sharing the wealth and shifting the burden.

My examples are ones that point to the failures of parents. Parents have responsibilities at which they often fail. But what about education? Some children receive an excellent education, and other children through no fault of their own attend deeply inadequate schools. They no more chose to live in depressed neighborhoods than other children chose to cross the border. But here we proclaim the value of neighborhood schools without recognizing educational justice. With health care the issue is similar. Children do not choose to receive inadequate care, while residing in medical deserts. Parents bare responsibility, but the government must insure access to quality care.

The reality is that there are many domains in which we must consider the “no fault” argument, but often it is those with fault who are protected. When Wall Street investment houses teetered and banks swayed, it was hard to claim that these too-big-to-fail investments needed to be rescued for errors that occurred through no fault of their own. It was precisely their fault, but their bonuses and options and suites were preserved. A case could be made that the failure of these institutions would have had sharp reverberations throughout the economy, harming those who were not at fault, but why did saving the financial service industry first and foremost involve protecting those who were loaded with fault and with personal resources to cushion their own fall.

These bailouts were showered while each school day children attended crumbling schools received inadequate health care, and lived in deep poverty for which they had no responsibility.

There is much to admire in the President’s call to protect immigrant children from deportation, and there is praise to be allocated to Republicans like Senator Marco Rubio who recognize the fundamental rightness of the policy. But, given the rhetoric of the policy justification, who is to speak for other children who suffer through no fault of their own, while elites at fault find that forgiveness is easy and free.

The school offers hands-on media training that gives students the skills to handle professional video- and photo cameras, and editing software. In addition, the curriculum offers courses in entrepreneurship, web design, writing, and media ethics. One of the goals is to prepare students to become community journalists, enabling them to tell the stories of the small communities around them. Ideally, the graduates would not only witness the development and reconstruction – or lack thereof – of their country, but also investigate and critically reflect upon it. Not only as community journalists, but also as civic journalists they could start making products that can function as forums for discussion and that can build up both their own as well as others’ social capital in the process.

In the daily practice of Haiti, this is all easier said than done. While it would be a challenge to give a similar 4-month crash course to any group of young people, trying to do it in Haiti exposes one to the country’s idiosyncratic trials.

Haitian media – they mainly exist in the form of radio and newspapers – have a long history of being mere tools to earn and secure political power. Only in the 1970s, still under Duvalier’s dictatorship, did one radio station start to air local and international news in Creole, the language of the majority of Haitians, instead of French, the language of the elite. It took until 1986, the year of Duvalier’s fall, before journalists enjoyed a meaningful freedom of the press and played a supporting role in the newly developing civil society. The military coup of 1991 that forced out Jean-Bertrand Aristide, the country’s first popularly chosen president, reintroduced the old repression of the media.

The return of Aristide and the rule of his successors have not necessarily laid the groundwork for a strong role for the media in the developing democracy. The damage to the media has endured. The well-known Haitian journalist Michele Montas-Dominique – widow of Jean Dominique who was murdered in 2000 – has lamented the “balkanization of the press.” In the 1990s, many frequencies on the FM band had been doled out to the military and the elite and many of these stations are still controlled by sponsors who do not support democratic rules of government. In addition, Montas-Dominique has long been worried about the lack of objectivity and professional ethics of Haitian journalists, many of whom are not bothered by working on the side for private and government employers.

Under the country’s ever demanding circumstances, Haiti Reporters is trying to work on the grassroots level. All the issues that have plagued Haitian journalism have been hampering speedy progress. Also, the school and its staff are significantly challenged by a lack of entrepreneurship in general and a struggle with the existing power relations – both between and among the different classes and groups. But even in these tough conditions, there is plenty of reason for optimism. Not in the least because of the highly motivated students, a few of whom have already shown that they can land jobs and internships.

So far, the school has attracted mainly students from the country’s tentatively developing middle class that, if they stay in Haiti – as opposed to fleeing or emigrating – can become a vital engine for development. For example, it has been an interesting experience for the students to make a short film about the Dance Company Tchaka Dance, that performs in the refugee camps or filming a project in Port-au-Prince’s Cité Soleil, one of the world’s biggest slums. It forced the students to be exposed to the difficult living conditions of many of their compatriots. Vriens, the school’s director, who has been traveling and working in Haiti for many years, has pointed out the apparent denial by the rich of the existence of the poor. It is one of the unsettling realities of Haitian society, which needs attention if a majority of the populations is ever going to be a meaningful participant in the political process.

The school’s goal is to give young people a practical education that gives them the tools to earn a living in Haiti. Although foreigners are currently in charge of the school, Haitian lecturers play an important role. Sooner rather than later, the Haitians themselves will have to take over the school’s management. In addition, a Haitian association has been created that can function as an independent production company for its alumni. The fact that it is a small-scale operation, located in a fairly poor but decent neighborhood, is working in its favor as compared to the slowly moving, bureaucratic multi-million dollar projects of the aid industry.

The loose network of big NGOs has grown into a powerful outside force that is not centrally organized, operating next to, instead of in tandem with, the weak Haitian government. As well intentioned as the aid may be, it contributes to a form of second-hand democracy that isn’t locally instigated. Since the end of 1990s, Haitians have spoken about their demokrasi pepe, or second-hand democracy, after the Creole description of the loads of used clothing from the United States that are resold on the streets. Haiti Reporters is trying to design a new boutique, owned and staffed by Haitians, addressing a pressing need in Haitian society.

Elle recognizes that applying the bottom line to the point that basic humanities majors are eliminated is a problem.  She realizes that there is a cultural value, the value of the university, that has an independent significance beyond the logic of the market, and, I would add, beyond the significance the university has for the state.  The modern university, with a definitive liberal arts tradition, shouldn’t be subjected directly to the logic of the bottom line.

Elle and I are in agreement with the great 20th century conservative philosopher, Michael Oakeshott, who, in his The Voice of Liberal Learning points out, “Education in its most general significance may be recognized as a specific transaction which may go on between generations of human beings in which newcomers to the scene are initiated into the world they are to inhabit.”  He goes on to explain that a liberal education involves “the invitation to disentangle oneself, for a time, from the urgencies of the here and now and to listen to the conversation in which human beings forever seek to understand themselves.”

But Elle and I disagree about the application of this conservative reasoning to the appointment of Cathy Black as Chancellor of the New York City public schools. While I have serious doubts, Elle thinks that Black’s excellence in the arts of administration should be decisive.  As a student of Oakeshott in this regard, I am not persuaded.  Scott’s particular concerns about Black, revealing an acquiescence to questionable business practices,  are disturbing and have implications.  The competing ethos and imperatives of business and politics, on the one hand, and education, on the other, undermine the case for the Black appointment.   I think this is an instance where the saying “there is a time and a place for everything” suggests that certain people should find their appropriate place.

In fact, I am not persuaded by the thrust of educational reform of Joel Klein.  A key to education is what goes on between teachers and students as a transaction between generations, something not easily measured by the quantitative means being used by educational reformers, such as Klein (and also, I regret to say, by President Obama to a significant degree).   I am convinced that the values Oakeshott celebrates should be a key to reform of primary and secondary education, as they should remain institutionalized in universities.  The Chancellor of a public school system should have a record of commitment to these values, something that neither Klein (before or during his tenure) nor Black have.  I realize that administrative competence matters, but I also look for a record of engagement with the serious distinctive field of education.  Why not expertise in both?

On the other hand, it is perfectly reasonable for Lauren from a classic liberal point of view, nowadays called conservative, to ask whether the government is too intrusive, too involved in daily life.  It is a reasonable question as a summary judgment.  But to see a new escalation of intrusiveness seems to me to be mistaken.  It is a question of balance, bearing in mind the sorts of issues that Milberg raised in his post yesterday, pointing out that the balance is cyclically regulated, the Polanyi pendulum, movements of greater state activism and market purity.  It doesn’t seem to me to be about general propositions, too much or too little government, too much or too little market.  I think we have to look at the specifics and critically appraise them.  This is how I read Michael’s responses.  And from a macroeconomic point of view, it is not even clear what the balance should be for the best economic performance.  Only ideologues know for sure in advance.  Others debate the matter, as we are doing here.

On the specifics of corporate sponsorship and naming of public works: we must weigh costs and the benefits, and decide politically, after an informed debate, the course of action.  What is gained financially?  What is lost in the symbolic representation of public life?  The problem is not particularly new, as Lauren points out.   Corporate underwriting of public expenditures for naming rights may be more transparent than the more traditional way that “city fathers” made their mark on the city landscape, but the continuity is even more striking than the differences.  And though I am not thrilled by corporate naming of the transportation map, it is certainly preferable to the loss of public transportation.

I agree with Lauren, the discussion about appropriate naming will be interesting.  And actually I would go further.  I think that such discussion can diminish the possible negative effects of corporate sponsorship.  Consequential public discussion is the most powerful antidote to the insensitivity of the bottom line and the arrogance of the bureaucrat.  To play with Marx and Engels a little , and Marshal Berman, with such discussion, “all that is solid will not melt into air.”

Indeed, such discussion can have positive effects on each of the cases we have been deliberately considering here.  It can and should guide policy and action.