Blog Posts

By Joshua Yesnowitz, DCI Fellow

The final weeks of my Social Movements and Social Change (POL 239) class this past Spring semester were dedicated to a close reading of Daniel Gillion’s The Loud Minority: Why Protests Matter in American Democracy (2020). In the concluding chapter to this ambitious book about the electoral effects of protest marches and rallies, Gillion returns to a key lesson emphasized throughout our course: for advocacy efforts to be most impactful, movement organizers must understand the political landscape in which they are operating and seek to take advantage of the opportunities available within this constrained context. Regarding the contemporary environment in the US, Gillion (2020: 190) grants that “yes, protest is likely adding to our fears of becoming a more divided America because ideological protest does reinforce and even harden positions that we have on divisive issues.”

Rather than a lamentation about the state of public discourse, though, Gillion’s recognition focuses our attention on the purposes of protest activism in American life and how social movements – as intermediaries for communicating the grievances of constituencies who may lack support within institutional channels – must embrace non-deliberative collective action to achieve democratic aims. For example, the strategic message of “No Justice, No Peace” that one encounters at a Black Lives Matter march serves many functions. It is a demand for change; it is a demonstration of power; it is an expression of solidarity among allies; and it is a challenge to opponents. It is not a pursuit of common ground; it is not a call for moderation; and it is not an invitation for deliberation (although it might be a prelude to one, as discussed below).

This is not intended as a criticism; moreover, I think the slogan is particularly effective at advancing movement claims and in constructing a collective identity among the “politically disempowered.”[i] The broader point I wish to make is that this entirely appropriate framing of movement ideals (and the related tactics employed to realize these ideals) is often in tension with many of the aims of deliberation. Asserting that there are “beneficial effects of conflict,” scholar-activist Frances Fox-Piven maintains in a recent interview with The Nation that “polarization can be used as a tool for social change” and that one “distinctive contribution of movements” is to engage in “dissensus politics.”[ii]

This leaves us with a question: Is deliberation for everyone? In the remainder of this post, I draw upon the work of Sanders (1997) and Young (2001) to consider some activist arguments against deliberation and build upon the insights of Levine and Nierras (2007) and della Porta (2020) to offer a few ways in which deliberative processes are often useful for movement organizations and reflect upon how movement successes can (gradually and indirectly) address some of the serious concerns over mutual respect and exclusion inherent to the activist critique of deliberation.[iii]

Activist Skepticism of Deliberation

Social movement organizers must always calculate the consequences of their strategic choices. Any behavior which undermines the desired outcomes of increased public attention for the cause and greater policy responsiveness from policymakers should be avoided. To advance their interests, therefore, social movements sometimes adopt non-deliberative practices (including protesting, boycotting, sit-ins, demonstrations, striking, and public shaming) which directly pressure authorities, rather than promote deliberative approaches which might appear to activists to uphold the existing power structure. If politics is about acquiring power and gaining access to finite resources among competing interests, then conflict and confrontation are means to achieve movement goals.[iv] Once institutional power is achieved and respected, activists will possibly be more amenable to deliberative interactions, likely not because of some intrinsic reward to deliberation, but rather understood in transactional terms (i.e., the best way to further objectives at a specific stage of engagement).[v]

In addition to the interest group pluralist assessment of deliberation, some activists have also been suspicious of and/or alienated by the presumptions of a deliberative approach. In most cases, social movements speak on behalf of marginalized groups who have been excluded through formal political processes. Given these historical experiences, it is not surprising that a deliberative approach, with its “connotations of cautiousness and order,”[vi] would not necessarily be appealing to groups working toward challenging the status quo. The deliberative form, therefore, not only encourages certain types of discourse (e.g., radical alternatives would be less welcome than more ‘reasonable’ reform ideas), but also privileges particular styles of expressing one’s thoughts (i.e., ‘foresighted’ and ‘steady’ rather than ‘emotional’ or ‘uncivil’).[vii] This framework, according to this line of activist critique, results in some voices being more pronounced and more compelling than others “who are less likely to present their arguments in ways that we recognize as characteristically deliberative.”[viii]  The race, class, and gender implications of this assertion are quite clear: “Insidious prejudices,” Sanders (1997: 353) explains, “may incline citizens to hear some arguments and not others.” As the deliberation model is contingent upon mutual respect among participants, movement activists – being fully cognizant of explicit prejudices and implicit biases – may view this principle as aspirational, if not in many circumstances naïve, and would rightfully be hesitant to participate.[ix]

Another reason why activists might reject deliberation is because they believe there is nothing to gain by sharing a forum with those who espouse views that they deem unworthy of consideration (and at the potential risk of personal harm). Should deliberation proponents expect trans* rights activists, for example, to put themselves in a position of potentially having to justify their own humanity for the sake of hearing all sides of an issue? Activists will also argue that granting opponents a venue for conversation is already a concession, an undeserving form of legitimization for offensive speech.[x] The refusal to appear with advocates of certain ideas and/or to seek to prevent the dissemination of abhorrent views – often called no platforming (or deplatforming in other contexts) – is a non-deliberative practice that is explicitly endorsed by some groups.[xi]

Activist Contributions to, and Uses of, Deliberation

Based on these activist criticisms of deliberation, one would be inclined to negatively respond to the question posed above – Is deliberation for everyone?. If we reframe our locus of study, though, perhaps we can provide a more nuanced response. Movement activists aren’t categorically opposed to deliberation, but as Levine and Nierras (2007: 1) note, deliberative practices for many activists are appreciated “as part of a repertoire of democratic approaches, appropriate for some circumstances but not others.” In this final section, therefore, I identify ways in which deliberative aims already inform practices within movements and consider how social movement work can make the deliberation model more innovative and equitable.

In seeking to mobilize supporters and to target potential recruits, social movement activists may rely upon deliberative procedures internally and introduce ideas which are then later promoted within deliberative paradigms.[xii] From which frames are perceived to be most resonant to which tactics are strategically most effective, movements will often adopt horizontal decision-making structures which aim to build consensus among participants. Though not without its own serious failings (around issues of inclusion), one of the most dynamic and inspiring aspects of the Occupy Wall Street movement, for example, were the democratic conversations happening daily. Appropriating public spaces (a non-deliberative behavior) to discuss aspirations for the world in which they want to inhabit (a deliberative objective), Occupiers sought to use the encampment sites as prefigurative models of these ideals.

The “People’s Mic,” another tactical innovation of Occupy, highlights the deliberative disposition of listening. Born out of necessity when the NYPD barred amplification devices from the occupation in New York’s Zuccotti Park, activists were required to closely listen to all speakers at the General Assembly because those gathered nearest the stage would be compelled to repeat the speaker’s words so that all would be able to receive the message. In this process of recitation, voices became magnified and personal testimonials traveled a much greater distance than if the authorities had not enforced a no amplified sound policy.[xiii] Movements, more generally, may be usefully understood as deliberative idea generators.[xiv] Many deliberatively-oriented programs and practices – e.g., participatory budgeting, citizen assemblies, conversation agreements, and the progressive stack – were all initiated within movement contexts.[xv]

Finally (and most importantly), social movement activism may be a necessary precursor for equitable deliberation to occur. The success of past movement efforts, that is “distributing power to those traditionally excluded,”[xvi] creates the conditions for future deliberations where deliberators from all backgrounds are intentionally committed to mutual respect and inclusion.^[xvii] Non-deliberative action, therefore, may be a logical pathway to pursue to achieve this deliberative ideal – a time when deliberation (in theory and in practice) can be for everyone.

 

* I am grateful to Graham Bullock for his thoughtful comments on an earlier iteration of this post.

[i] Abdullah, Karpowitz, and Raphael (2016: 5).

[ii] Engler (2021).

[iii] For further insights on these matters, see Beauvais (2020) and Smith (2020). I was introduced to these two readings via the Spring 2021 DCI Fellows cohort curriculum.

[iv] Levine and Nierras (2007: 10); Young (2001: 674).

[v] Motivations, of course, will differ due to the orientations and value commitments of any movement organization or individual activist. As is true in more institutional forms of politics, there will always be a diversity of approaches employed by and values prioritized within social movement communities.

[vi] Sanders (1997: 356).

[vii] Sanders (1997: 356).

[viii] Sanders (1997: 349).

[ix] It must be noted that the “difference critique” is not without its critics; scholars have offered empirical challenges (Hickerson and Gastil 2008) and more theoretical work (Neblo 2020) has focused on the “indispensable” role accorded to emotion in deliberative theory. In recent years, practitioners have developed deliberative guides that model “inclusion throughout the cycle of deliberative inquiry” (Maldonado 2017). 

[x] Levine and Nierras (2007: 9).

[xi] See Smith (2020: 17) on anti-fascist efforts to combat Alt-Right views by embracing an aggressive version of this approach. For the sake of brevity, I have only provided a few arguments advanced by activist critics of deliberation. A more exhaustive list of concerns is presented in Levine and Nierras (2007).    

[xii] Abdullah, Karpowitz, and Raphael (2016) describe the benefits of “enclave deliberations,” but locate their sites of interest as “organized community forums and political processes,” not movement spaces.

[xiii] On the power of testimonials, see Sanders (1997: 371).

[xiv] Della Porta (2020: 15).

[xv] On participatory democracy in social movements, more generally, see Polletta (2002).

[xvi] Levine and Nierras (2007: 11).

[xvii] On the “antecedents” to successful deliberation, see Beauvais (2020).

 

Works Cited

Carolyne Abdullah, Christopher F. Karpowitz, and Chad Raphael, “Affinity Groups, Enclave Deliberation, and Equity.” Journal of Public Deliberation 12:2 (2016), Article 6.

Edana Beauvais, “Deliberation and Non-Deliberative Communication.” Journal of Deliberative Democracy 16:1 (2020), 4-13.

Donatella della Porta, How Social Movements Can Save Democracy: Democratic Innovations from Below (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2020).

Mark Engler, “Frances Fox Piven Wants You to Raise Hell.” The Nation (5 May 2021), https://www.thenation.com/article/politics/frances-fox-piven-interview/.Daniel Q. Gillion, The Loud Minority: Why Protests Matter in American Democracy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2020).

Peter Levine and Rose Marie Nierras, “Activists’ Views of Deliberation.” Journal of Public Deliberation 3:1 (2007), Article 4.

Samantha Maldonado, “Inclusion Around the Cycle: Applying Strategies of Sufficient Inclusion

Throughout the Cycle of Deliberative Inquiry” (Colorado State University: Center for Public Deliberation, 2017), https://cpd.colostate.edu/wp-content/uploads/sites/48/2017/07/Around-the-Cycle-Maldonado.pdf.

Francesca Polletta, Freedom is an Endless Meeting: Democracy in American Social Movements (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002).

Lynn M. Sanders, “Against Deliberation.” Political Theory 25:3 (June 1997), 347-376.

William Smith, “Deliberation in an Age of (Un)Civil Resistance.” Journal of Deliberative Democracy 16:1 (2020), 14-19.

Iris Marion Young, “Activist Challenges to Deliberative Democracy.” Political Theory 29:5 (October 2001), 670-690.

By Dalton Langdon, DCI Fellow

In the Deliberative Citizenship Initiative (DCI), we have focused our efforts all year on creating environments where everyone has the liberty to share their opinion, so long as we uphold the conversation agreements set to each other at the beginning of every forum. We have done this in the spirit of healthy conversation and to show participants it is possible to have productive discussions with individuals of differing opinions.

This sounds good in theory, and I believe we have often achieved this goal. Nevertheless, it is not at all easy, especially when either deliberators or facilitators have strong feelings about the issue in question. It is even more difficult when people come from radically different traditions and have worldviews that are critical of other people’s identities. Is it really possible, for example, to productively deliberate with someone who has deep problems with a part of you that is core to your identity?

In my experience, this issue often arises in discussions about gender and sexuality, which was the focus of our most recent D Team meeting. The topic of gender and sexuality is contentious for many yet so integral to how many of us conceive of our identities. For those of us who have been scorned because of our gender or sexuality, participating in a discussion about either can be particularly challenging. As a queer individual, on many occasions I have felt forced by convention, society, and my own upbringing to suppress and contain myself, thus causing a separation between my sense of who I am and who I present myself to the world. Hearing echoes of those conventions in conversations about gender and sexuality can feel like re-experiencing those painful occasions. This can happen especially when the conversation begins to approach the topic from a religious standpoint, which often highlights just how deeply integrated Christianity is in the morality of U.S. citizens. I’ve found that some people have difficulty compartmentalizing their religious beliefs when it comes to discussing policies related to gender and sexuality. Others don’t feel the need to do so at all, but for me, such compartmentalization is critical.

I strongly believe that we should uphold the concept of separation of church and state, and that we should not dictate decisions that affect others based mostly on personally held religious beliefs, especially when those affected by our biases may not hold those beliefs. I am a firm advocate that everyone has the right to believe in whatever higher power they want, but I cannot in good conscious back notions or policies that impose those beliefs on others. And for this reason, I don’t think gender and sexuality identity should be up for debate at all. These identities may seem like an abstract concept and may be hard to talk about, but for many of us, and particularly those of us whose identities have been marginalized, they are quite real and important.

But as hard as it is to do so, I also recognize that people’s religious identity may be as deeply held and important to some people as gender and sexuality identities are to others, including myself. They see the normalization of gender identity and fluidity of sexuality as threatening to their identities, just as perhaps I view their religious views as threatening to my identity. While I don’t see them as equivalent, part of the point of dialogue and deliberation is to engage with ideas and people you don’t agree with and first try to understand where they are coming from.

Like I said, none of this is easy, and it is probably impossible for any of us to do all the time. It is particularly challenging for facilitators to remain “passionately impartial” when they care deeply about the issue in question. But we should all try to openly engage with our differences at least some of the time, if we have any hope of bridging our divides. The DCI has made its mark on our community by encouraging tolerance and sound reasoning skills when it comes to deliberation surrounding sensitive areas such as trans rights. I would encourage us all to remember the DCI as we go out and discuss topics on identity with your family and friends. Remember to think critically about your own opinion, and that there is always a story behind the opinions you encounter. Try to understand why those stories mean so much to us and how we can find connections between them. Then we might be able to foster real understanding and real progress on these deeply contentious and important issues.

By John Leiner, DCI Fellow

It has been hard not to look at the calendar and recognize that the Class of 2021 has such little time—now less than three weeks—left until we graduate as Davidson College alumni. Many conversations have been had since August about what our class has missed out on during our senior year. The lack of socializing and spending time with our friends with whom we’ve grown so close has been especially frustrating. And, as a transfer student, I’ve thought about how much I would have loved to have spent more than 2 ¼ years on this beautiful campus.

To be sure, my friends have expressed their condolences for my abbreviated Davidson experience. Sometimes I wish I had spent my first year at Davidson—enjoying Frolics at least once would have been a treat. However, in many ways, my time not at Davidson is what led me here as a sophomore, and I try not to lose sight of that. I spent my first year at another small, academically rigorous liberal arts college. A great school, but not the best fit for me, in part because of what I felt was groupthink in the classroom and a lack of political-ideological diversity in the campus community.

Davidson felt different from the get-go. I recall my political philosophy professor early on during the fall of my sophomore year giving a short history lesson related to Aristophanes’ The Clouds. It struck me how the theme of the discussion could have been taboo, as it related to a practice common among Athenian philosophers that would be frowned upon today. There wasn’t anything particularly unique about the conversation.

Yet it struck me that we were having this discussion without anyone making virtue-signaling remarks about this practice having no place in today’s society. That we were discussing something antiquated was obvious. The class discussion was indeed refreshing, as we recognized that our goal in this particular moment was not to make political statements and apply our own values to the text but to understand why the practice mattered in the context of The Clouds. We needed to first “listen” to the text and its author before concluding anything about it.

It’s possible that I would have had a similar discussion were I taking the class at my previous college. I do know, though, that during my three years as a Davidson student the general openness of my peers towards discussing ‘touchy’ subjects, considering historical context, and acknowledging opposing viewpoints has not wavered. With this in mind, I strongly believe that class discussion at Davidson can be deliberative, insofar as it can encourage all participants to meaningfully and sincerely participate. Considering diverse perspectives and sharing ideas with those we disagree with can be possible in the classroom provided that campus culture is ‘ripe for’ deliberation. I believe that Davidson’s is.

From what I’ve learned as a DCI Fellow, the first step towards creating a deliberative culture in the classroom would likely be acknowledging that opposing views exist. In deliberative contexts, we call this ‘setting the scene,’ and I have certainly witnessed this step here at Davidson. Facilitators (professors) work with deliberators (students) to clarify uncertainties and points of dispute about the topic of deliberation. Prior to class discussion, my professors have often introduced relevant questions and points of contention before opening the floor.

Next, the professor invites students to begin the conversation. One student begins by offering a perspective or claim about the topic of discussion, perhaps using an “I” statement. This process continues until each student gives general remarks about their position. What differentiates a standard class discussion from a deeper deliberative experience are the next four steps. The first occurs when students are encouraged to clarify the assumptions, reasons and evidence underlying their positions. The professor may point out, for example, how students have reached similar conclusions based on different premises or why certain perspectives were not brought forth for discussion. They might also ask students to consider what implicit assumptions and biases have informed their ideas during a deliberation. This encourages everyone to think about the values or principles that underlie their beliefs, which they perhaps share with their classmates even if they disagree about the issue on the surface.

The next step involves students actively engaging and evaluating their own and each other’s reasons and evidence. The penultimate step comes when they begin to generate new ideas that transcend their original conceptions and understandings of the topic at hand. And the final step towards creating a deliberative classroom encourages reflection about the deliberation itself and an assessment of how it went, what was discovered, and what is left to be explored.

If students are not forthcoming about their perspective or choose to provide a different perspective from their honest opinion, the professor may not always recognize which perspectives are not being expressed in the deliberation. There may be many points of contention that are not discussed, after all. As Fellows, we’ve remarked time and again about how hard it is to incorporate all perspectives into our D Teams. How do we bring into the discussion those who are apprehensive about ‘being in the minority?’

There is no obvious solution to this puzzle. I do know, however, that establishing conversation agreements is key for the comfortability of deliberators—whether inside or outside of the classroom. If students come into the deliberation having read these guidelines, such as “critique the idea we disagree with, not the person expressing it” or “respect the confidentiality of the discussion,” then they may become more confident that their peers will respect their viewpoint. This could, in theory, allow students to be more open in their deliberations.

While talking across our many divides may seem daunting, we have more experience with at least some of the necessary components than we may realize. For example, “dialogues” in which Davidson classmates discuss weighty issues related to social justice often involve establishing conversation guidelines beforehand to assure everyone’s openness and honesty during the discussion. Furthermore, one of my many takeaways from Davidson is that I have learned to interrogate and question my assumptions, values and perspectives. And no substantive discussion I’ve had here has ever ended without formative reflection. So in many ways, Davidson is ‘ripe for’ deliberation, as components of the deliberative process are already part of how we study, learn, and grow as students here. I’m grateful for that, and I’m hopeful that Davidson can build on these foundations to build an even more deliberative culture in the future.

By Kyle Broxton, DCI Fellow

On Tuesday, March 30, the Davidson College Deliberative Citizenship Initiative, in partnership with the Center for Civic Engagement and North Mecklenburg Economic Mobility Collaborative, hosted an expert panel and deliberative forum on pressing issues related to housing in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg region. Members from Davidson College and the broader community were invited to first hear from a panel of five stakeholders and experts on a variety of challenges to housing, including affordability, gentrification, and segregation. Following the panel, participants engaged in small-group deliberations during which they shared their own ideas about addressing the housing challenges facing the community.

The panelists included the Town of Davidson’s Housing and Equity Director, Eugene Bradley, CEO of A Roof Above, Liz Clasen-Kelly, Associate Professor of Geography at UNC Charlotte, Elizabeth Delmelle, Affordable Housing and Community Development Professional, Willie Jones, and Senior Analyst in Regulatory Studies and Research Editor at John Lock Foundation, Jon Sanders. Each of these panelists brought a unique perspective to best contextualize the issues related to housing throughout the first hour of the event.

The expert panel was immediately followed by a deliberative forum in which participants were divided up into small groups and tasked to deliberate on the issue themselves. Having been given some background by the expert panel on a wide array of issues that relate to housing, the groups were prepared to engage in deliberations of their own. Similar to the panel of stakeholders and experts from the first hour, my group was composed of participants with a diverse range of perspectives on the issue. They each brought meaningful insights to the conversation.

My group adopted an open-minded approach in identifying the needs and goals of housing. While favorable to the idea of increasing the supply of housing, we all remained aware of the costs that result from achieving this supply. Furthermore, we acknowledged the drawbacks that would ultimately manifest with each goal that was posited. By the time we were considering solutions to accomplish the goals of housing we had discussed, my sense was that a negative and pessimistic view of the topic had been adopted by most of the participants of my group.

At that point, one of the participants asked a question that I believe made for an excellent way to close out the latter half of the event. Instead of suggesting a solution to address the housing challenges, the participant simply asked if there were any housing victories the group had seen in the Charlotte-Mecklenburg region in recent years. Initially, the other participants denied any victories existed. However, after a brief pause, one participant corrected herself, recalling an instance when her community convinced a developer to construct affordable living spaces where more luxurious housing was originally planned. Following her, another participant expressed her appreciation for the recent work of one of the panelists, Willie Jones. Another noted the benefits that would result from bringing more voices to the development phase of housing through development dividends. In that moment, I recognized the significant effect that the question had on our small group.

Simply asking the group what housing victories they had seen in recent years seemed to motivate the participants to adopt a slightly more positive and optimistic view of the topic. By noting what has worked in the past, the participants were far more motivated to suggest what we should do for the future. While the drawbacks and challenges related to housing were still acknowledged by the group, we closed out feeling more motivated than we were before the forum.

This experience revealed to me the value of striking a balance between realism and idealism in deliberative contexts. Too much of the former can be discouraging and depressing, while too much of the latter can be ungrounded and misleading. In my group’s context, having looked at what has succeeded to better gauge what can succeed (considering the many challenges we had already identified), I believe we struck a healthy balance between realism and idealism by the end of our deliberation. Ultimately, not only did our group take on a more hopeful view of that evening’s topic, but of deliberative democracy itself.