Growing a Democratic Culture:
John Commons on the Wiring of Civil Society
by Philip E. Agre
Department of Information Studies
University of California, Los Angeles
pagre@ucla.edu
http://dlis.gseis.ucla.edu/pagre/
2,454 words
posted: october 31, 1999
[This is the text of a paper presented at the Media in Transition Conference at MIT on October 8, 1999.]
Is the Internet a friend of democracy? The prevailing discourse says no, that
the Internet is actually the end of democracy, and that democratic laws can
no longer be enforced. This discourse is not only hostile to democracy, of
course -- it is hostile to government as such, and it speaks of "government"
in a way that makes no distinction between constitutional democracy and
totalitarian fascism. This is the legacy of Friedrich Hayek, among others,
extremist opponents of extremism for whom any amount of democracy, no matter
how legitimate, inevitably leads to harder stuff.
Whatever their utility as political prescriptions, these philosophies have
usefully directed attention to the complex and variegated institutional
field through which the great bulk of any society is actually organized.
Marx had no time for these institutions of civil society, which he regarded
as epiphenomena of the essentially very simple structures through which a
society and its citizens were defined (Keane 1988). But civil society is
now exceedingly popular, in a striking way, throughout the world and across
the political spectrum (Keane 1998), whether as a counterbalance to the
overreaching of the state, as an integral constituent of democracy, or as the
real and only substance of a free society.
Yet the libertarian commitment to civil society is unstable. Civil society,
almost by definition, consists of intermediaries: organizations that
orchestrate and subserve a wide variety of social relationships. But as
Dominique Colas (1997) has observed, the concept of civil society did not
enter European social thought as a liberal antidote to absolutism; its root
meaning does not oppose it to the state. Rather, civil society was originally
opposed to certain extreme forms of Protestantism that, in overthrowing the
putative autocracy of the Church, also sought to destroy all intermediaries
and all representations -- a mystical radicalism that sought to eliminate all
obstacles to an unmediated communion with God. Political and technical ideas
are routinely found to descend from secularized versions of medieval theology,
and thus here the radicalism of modern libertarians echoes in some detail the
origins of the concept of civil society -- not it supporters but its enemies:
the smashers of idols, the extremist opponents of centralized authority, the
militants seeking not to create their own intermediary institutions but to
eliminate them altogether.
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So it is, for example, that so many contemporary authors who seem to speak
Hayek's language in fact leave no room in their language for government
at all, not even the minimal constitutional framework that is supposed to
administer the rule of law. They are anarchists, and they are not concerned
about money laundering, or pedophiles, or any of the genuine if overhyped
evils of the age. What matters above all is the power of the network to
connect anyone to anyone, to circumvent anything, to short-circuit any
intermediary, and therefore supposedly to destroy all hierarchies of whatever
sort. The Church hierarchy, the state hierarchy, the monopoly -- all will
be smashed, all destroyed, all of their atoms scattered by the ecstasy of the
bits. This technological teleology, this electronic eschatology, is, we are
given to understand, the information revolution to end all revolutions.
But it is not so. Nothing like that is happening. Intermediaries are
changing, to be sure, multiplying and dividing, their functions rebundling
into different configurations, but they are as necessary as ever. They
are consolidating, indeed, increasing their geographic scope. States are
not shrinking, and in fact they are compensating for the global reach of
technology by creating a vast network of undemocratic and nontransparent
global treaty organizations. Mediation and representation, with all of the
good and evil that they imply, are the very essence of the age. Once we see
this, we can see at last the real upshot of the technology, the real action
that it has already set in motion. It is not the elimination of civil
society, any more than of the state. It is, however, in both realms, the
renegotiation of the working rules of every institution of society.
This conception of social institutions as sets of working rules that govern
the roles and relationships of their participants belongs to John Commons
(1934). Largely forgotten now, Commons was the mechanic philosopher of the
New Deal. A printer, he eventually became a professor of economics and public
administration at the University of Wisconsin, and in that position he trained
many members of the generation that built the American welfare state. As the
welfare state has come under ideological assault, Commons has been forgotten,
mentioned only by a handful of legal theorists. All theories of institutions
are largely compatible; they seem different on the surface because they
all overgeneralize from the particular case with which the author is most
familiar. Commons' theory started from his experience of the negotiation
of work rules in printing shops through collective bargaining, and that was
the paradigm that he brought to every institution he considered. He did
not imagine that every set of rules arises through the same kind of formal
mechanism by which union contracts are negotiated. He does not presuppose
that organized associations of buyers and sellers will necessarily delegate
representatives to negotiate over a long table the form contracts and other
customary rules that govern a given industry at a given point in history.
Nonetheless, Commons' project was to investigate the variety of mechanisms
by which the stakeholder groups in a given institution do act collectively
to carve out a space for their own customs and practices alongside and by
compromise with those of everyone else.
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Commons saw no better example of this process than the rise and evolution of
the common law, in which successive social classes -- merchants at one point,
industrialists at another, and then industrial labor -- wrote elements of
their practices and values into the law as it emerged to govern the particular
relationships of institutional life. How this worked in practice was a matter
for investigation. Normatively, the point was not for any one group to win
out, but quite the contrary for every group to be able to hold its own,
neither imposing its complete set of preferred rules on everyone else nor
having anyone else's rules completely imposed on them.
As increasingly complex social relationships are mediated by networked
information technology, we are becoming accustomed to the idea that the
protocols of these mediated interactions -- the "code" in Larry Lessig's terms
-- constitutes a set of working rules in very much the sense that Commons
suggests. Computers, like institutions generally, both enable and constrain,
and both computers and institutions are, in one important aspect anyway,
discourses made material -- made, that is, into machinery that governs
to some degree the lives of the people who use it. Even when they are not
formally part of the government, and even when they have no legal force,
institutions and computers both govern, and it is this much larger sense
of governance that Commons views as the deep underlying unity of democratic
government and democratic society. It is most unlikely, after all, that
one can exist without the other, and if the Internet encourages a democratic
society then it does so by promoting the diverse mechanisms of collective
bargaining by which a democratic society orders its affairs.
The necessity for such mechanisms is clear. By providing a general mechanism
for moving digital information and a general platform for constructing digital
information utilities, the Internet provides new opportunities; it opens a
vast new design space both for technology in the narrow sense and for the
institutionalized social relationships within which the Internet is embedded.
The Internet also necessitates a renegotiation of institutional rules in a
more urgent way by destabilizing the balance of forces to which any successful
negotiation gives form; by lending itself to the amplification of some
forces and not others, the Internet undermines many of the institutionalized
accommodations through which stakeholder groups with distinct interests and
powers have gotten along.
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It is not only the Internet that has such effects, of course; control
over the legislature is a much more direct means of upsetting existing
institutional arrangements, and more factors than information technology
drive the disruptions of globalization. Nonetheless, the Internet, far from
transporting its believers into the unmediated perfection of cyberspace, is
unfreezing a multitude of thoroughly secular institutional arrangements right
here on earth, and is posing the challenge of how these arrangements might
be remade, both efficiently and equitably, in a much more digital world.
Fortunately, what the Internet necessitates it also facilitates. If the
working rules of universities will be remade through a negotiation between
professors and students, among others; if the medical system will be remade
through a negotiation between physicians, patients, and insurers, among
others; if the political system will be remade through a negotiation among
citizens and their representatives, among others; then the main impact of the
Internet has been to provide tools that allow each of these stakeholder groups
to associate and, each in their own way, to press their interests. Once
again the paradigm of collective bargaining can mislead if it is taken too
literally. The point is not that every social group forms its own union, or
even necessarily its own organization, and the point is not that the Internet
necessarily facilitates any kind of formal bargaining process. Collective
bargaining can be mediated by a great diversity of institutional forms, and it
is the genius of the Internet to be indifferent to the details of such things.
The Internet makes visible a layer of social process that is more fundamental
than organizations, and just as fundamental as institutions, namely the
customs by which people who have something in common think together. Before
collective bargaining comes collective cognition, and collective cognition
in its various modes is greatly facilitated by the various community-building
mechanisms of the Internet. Ideologies can form in the networked community
of computer programmers; news can spread in the networked community of nurses;
experiences can be shared in the networked community of cancer patients;
patterns can be noticed by the networked community of pilots; agendas can be
compared by the networked community of environmental activists; ideas can be
exchanged in the networked community of entrepreneurs; stories can be told
within the networked community of parents; and so on.
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This sort of cognitive pooling is not an unambiguous good, of course; if taken
too far, it can turn the community into a weakened intellectual monoculture.
Nonetheless, in many cases the Internet is amplifying collective cognition in
ways that equalize playing fields for all. Cancer patients must no longer
confront the medical and insurance systems as individuals. Parents can listen
to other parents who have been in their shoes. Small players can learn what
angles the big players are likely to work. Collective cognition is not the
same as collective action, much less formally organized collective bargaining.
But it is the soil from which these more complex phenomena of solidarity grow.
Without the habits of association, without the cultivated taste for sharing,
without the concrete experience of helping others and being helped in turn,
without the very idea that others face the same situation as you, a democratic
culture cannot grow. Whatever its failings, the Internet fertilizes the soil
of democratic culture.
The question, of course, is whether it does so enough -- whether the Internet
provides the conditions for every social group, no matter how spread out, to
take its rightful place at the table, to play its own role in renegotiating
all of the social institutions in which it takes part. And the answer, just
as clearly, is no. No technology is ever a sufficient condition for anything.
It facilitates, but it doesn't do the job for us. To truly build a democratic
society, it will be necessary to build new social forms -- new ideas, new
movements, and new organizations that are adequate the opportunities and
challenges of a networked world.
The role of political organizations must change. No longer must an
organization carry the full burden of organizing the collective cognition
of the social group that it claims to represent. This is good when it frees
resources for other purposes, and it is bad when it reduces the binding force
that makes membership in an organization attractive in the first place. It
is good when it reduces the arbitrary power of the intermediaries through whom
the information had flowed, and it is bad when it makes consensus-building
and leadership impossible. What, then, is the role of an organization in
a networked world? An organization can put people into complex situations
like legislatures and standards bodies, where there is still no substitute
for being there. It can conduct the research that requires pulling together
more information than any individual could manage. It can maintain the
relationships that make actual negotiations possible. And it can build the
legitimacy that is required to call for a solidary action. These are all
classical functions of an organization, and they will not go away. But they
will all happen in a much more dynamic environment, and they will only work
if they draw upon and encourage the power of collective cognition, rather
than trying to channel it. This is hard, because it is much easier to deal
with a centralized representative than a sprawling associative community. But
it is the democratic way, and it is the principal hope today for a democratic
society.
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This perspective on democracy certainly has its limitations. Commons had a
clear conception of institutions, but the language of collective bargaining
was dangerously indeterminate in its prescriptions for the political system,
as his misguided endorsement of Mussolini's corporate state suggests. But
this is perhaps the central question of democracy in its newly wired
manifestation: what is the proper relationship between collective cognition
among communities of shared interest and the actual formal mechanisms of the
state? Unequal access to the means of association is already a tremendous
force for inequality, especially in the United States where professionalized
lobbying on behalf of the powerful has been raised to a high art.
The answer cannot ride on the sort of bargaining that can be bought.
Instead, it must ride on the massed creativity of a diverse people in diverse
situations, all bringing their own experience to bear on the situations of
others. If the Internet is a friend of democracy then democracy will be won
principally on the ground, and the central task for democratic theory right
now is to understand this ground, and to be useful to the innumerable people
of good will who are out there trying to build on it.
References
Dominique Colas, Civil Society and Fanaticism: Conjoined Histories, translated
by Amy Jacobs, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997.
John R. Commons, Institutional Economics: Its Place in Political Economy,
Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1934.
John Keane, Civil Society: Old Images, New Visions, Stanford: Stanford
University Press, 1998.
John Keane, Democracy and Civil Society: On the Predicaments of European
Socialism, the Prospects for Democracy, and the Problem of Controlling Social
and Political Power, London: Verso, 1988.
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