Showing posts with label political theory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label political theory. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 July 2015

What is 'progressive'? Thomas Smith on the ecomoderns on the Pope

Further to my last post, Thomas Smith at Dissident Voice has a strong critique of Mike Shellenberger, Ted Nordhaus and Mark Lynas' dismissal of the recent papal encyclical, Laudato Si.

Of particular relevance is this on the vagueness of the term 'progressive':
Perhaps the ecomodernists should discard this vague generality of labelling themselves ‘progressive’ as it is too often used to gloss over the important details. ‘We believe in growth’, say the ecomodernists, ‘therefore we’re progressive’. ‘I put forward a sustainable steady state and/or degrowth future’, I respond, ‘therefore I’m progressive’. Nobody wins the argument, and the term is rendered an empty signifier.
This is, of course, the risk with any term that has such wide and varied usage. I, for one, can't see why the adjective 'progressive' should have such a simplistic and necessary relation to techno-economic 'progress' (i.e. growth).

Smith writes in his conclusion:
‘Progress’ is a myth. Societies do not develop in any linear fashion, and capitalist modernity is not the end of history. Sure, some things are probably ‘better’, many things are worse. There are no universals.
There is a defence of 'progress' against its critics that runs: 'But don't you want things to get better? Conservative!' Against that knee-jerk, I think that Smith is correct. It is the sense of 'progress' as a definite direction, an arrow that can be either followed or diverged from (and diverged towards something that is, by definition, 'less good') that is the problem.

Just as a steady-state economy might actually be better for those who live with it, an historical trajectory without 'progress' (in the modern/ecomodern sense) wouldn't mean that the poor must stay poor and the rich must stay rich. It wouldn't mean the end to change.

For things to improve under a steady-state economy, wealth would have to be more equitably shared because economic activity would no longer be orientated towards future surpluses. Under a 'steady-state' history, the situation might be likewise. It wouldn't mean stasis, the end of time. It'd mean a different conception of time.

Saturday, 21 February 2015

Hobbes on Warre

Further to my reflections on Leviathan and the concept of war in my previous post, perhaps the words of the man himself might be in order:
"There Is Alwayes Warre Of Every One Against Every One. Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common Power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called Warre; and such a warre, as is of every man, against every man. For WARRE, consisteth not in Battell onely, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the Will to contend by Battell is sufficiently known: and therefore the notion of Time, is to be considered in the nature of Warre; as it is in the nature of Weather. For as the nature of Foule weather, lyeth not in a showre or two of rain; but in an inclination thereto of many dayes together: So the nature of War, consisteth not in actuall fighting; but in the known disposition thereto, during all the time there is no assurance to the contrary. All other time is PEACE."
War is seemingly something approaching a default metaphysical state, or at least a given and established tendency in nature. War is to be assumed, peace is what is to be explained. Bellicosity comes first, co-operation second. Moreover, war per se is divorced from any specific actions or means and becomes like a climatic state.

Is Gaia a Leviathan? Without deference to such a terrestrial deity—"that Mortall God, to which we owe under the Immortal God, our peace, and defence"—are we in a state of war? I'd prefer to retain a sense of concrete practise to 'war'—i.e. to insist that the means matter. However, it is a more complex question than just this.

Gaia does not much resemble Hobbes' deity in the details (or the illustrations) but certainly the concept of sovereignty needs to be re-evaluated at its roots and that must surely mean a meeting of these figures.

Friday, 8 March 2013

Pluralising technical de-cisions; Calculating internalities and externalities

Jeremy on his Struggle Forever blog writes:
Monday I participated in a workshop on the use of multiple water quality models in the Chesapeake Bay Program – the benefits and drawbacks.  Throughout the day, much of the discussion centered around the ways that multiple models could improve the science of water quality management ... The other major issue was the social and political challenges that would arise from a multiple modeling approach. ... I went in expecting the modelers to be receptive to increased participation in modeling, at least in the ideal if not in practice.  I expected them to have practical concerns such as how to incorporate participatory methods into the existing modeling project, or how to solicit participation, etc. ... What I didn’t expect was the intensely political opposition to participatory modeling that came out. ...
This kind of dispute does pose very interesting problems for all kinds of political theory.  To what extent – or in what way – can lay people (the techno-scientific laity, if you will) participate in technical decision making; or, in other words, can technical decision making be democratic and if so how?

Walter Lippmann's view was that, for the most part, the public can participate in the selection of experts – i.e. the people get to choose their technocrats – but not much beyond that.  Speaking primarily of international relations, he argued that the world was simply too complex and fast-moving to involve the general public in anything but the most general kinds of decision making.  The ‘phantom public,’ in his words, was only meant to step in where the experts failed to agree; it could only intervene when issues were so tangled and complex that even ‘the powers that be’ could not reach a decision on them.

It's been a while since I read his 'The Public and Its Problems' but, as I recall, John Dewey’s view differed because he reasoned from a different starting point.  Rather than beginning with the frantic speed and complexity of life in the 1920s (!), as Lippmann does, Dewey began by arguing that politics itself resulted from the confluence of publics around their 'problems' – that politics itself is made possible by the formation of publics around issues and that political institutions should, therefore, derive their form and remit from this reality, rather than riding roughshod over it.  For Dewey, regardless of how difficult it is, publics are always already involved in politics.  Consequently, publics must bear far greater a burden than simply selecting the technocrats or intervening when said technocrats can’t make up their minds.  Dewey was vague on what this meant, specifically, but he was clear on the necessity of publics.

Both perspectives, from a contemporary viewpoint, seem somewhat naive – our Lippmannian elites routinely disagree on everything important but no phantom public has emerged to do the job for them, while Dewey’s image of politics seems to derive more from the experience of early 20th century U.S. participatory liberal democracy than any general political reality (he even argued that state borders were nothing more than an expression of publics; that states were bounded since not all issues affected everyone globally and, consequently, the institutions meant to deal with them were instituted only regionally – plainly this has been disconfirmed by history).  Yet both have some valid points.  Lippmann is correct that representative democracy in some form or other (not necessarily any form we see today) is the only way day-to-day technical decision making can occur in any complex society.  Dewey is correct that issues do not become political in a vacuum; they do so because of the involvement of publics, however inchoate.

If we want to go beyond the agreements and disagreements Dewey and Lippmann we need to ask: How can technical processes that are of general political and social importance be pluralised, which is to say democratised, without slowing these processes down, or making them grind to a halt entirely?  How can decision making be pluralised without making de-cision – a cutting, a delimitation, an end – impossible?  And how can non-technical participants claim the authority they need to demand their place in the process (since scientists and technicians are generally reluctant to grant outsiders any say)?

The technicians’ belief that the laity have nothing to add is surely an incorrect prejudice, as STS has indeed shown.  However, they will also object -- and this objection is less easily brushed aside -- that technical decision making processes are torturous enough, without having a bunch of jabbering, inarticulate, non-technically educated laypersons sticking their oar in -- sideways.  This is the mysterious contradiction implied by Lippmann’s ‘phantom public’: when an issue is too complex to be resolved by the experts how can adding even more voices resolve it?

I think what is really at issue is the very notion of political decision and who gets to make it.  So, it’s a question of power and authority – something that Dewey and Lippmann (and Latour, who is the most notable contemporary cheerleader for these two) largely ignore.

And that’s the problem with Dewey, Lippmann and Latour alike – they’re only really comfortable talking in the most abstract terms.  I think I can be more specific on one matter, however.  The main thing that must remain open to public participation in any significant technical project is the calculation of externalities.

Any project that has environmental or social consequences – so, any significant technical project, then – depends upon the economic calculation of internalities and externalities; those consequences and risks that are the responsibility of the project and those that are not.  No technical project can proceed without this calculation being made, formally or informally.  Absent the legal requirement for such a calculation, organisations will make their own judgements as to what they are responsible for (and will most likely conclude that their responsibilities are few and far between).

As well as attributing responsibilities, such a calculation also has the function of demarcating the commons or ‘nature’ as it functions as the constitutive outside of the internal artifices of the project.  A factory that can consider the river pollution that it causes as an externality for which it is not responsible takes the river to be ‘nature’ in the sense that it is part of the commons that it can use and abuse with impunity.  As Latour has argued, this outside, this nature qua commons, has largely ceased to exist since little if any of the planet can innocently be regarded as an outside to which we owe no care.

The demarcation of internality and externality is precisely the area where technical expertise is not enough and never can be.  Such decisions are often arbitrary and are based just as much, if not more, on politics and ethics than technical know-how.  Is the river an internality or an externality?  Is the factory responsible for its pollution?  There is no technical answer to this question.  Technicality may help us understand the scale, form and effects of the pollution but not its consequence in the sense of risk or sociality.

Indeed, here we see that the word ‘consequence’ has two meanings.   Firstly, and quite prosaically, when B is caused by A, B is A’s consequence.  However, secondly, there is the sense of being ‘consequential’ – if A causes B, C and D, is B consequential or inconsequential?  Is it significant?  Does it matter?  Technicality informs us of the first kind of consequence but cannot unilaterally decide on the second sort since that necessitates an attribution of value to things, a decision on what matters.  (Of course the question then arises as to whether we can keep these two kinds of ‘consequence’ separate.  If not then public participation is germane to the whole process.  That’s a tricky question.)

Anyway, that’s where public participation is most clearly appropriate.  That isn’t to say that the internality/externality demarcation is the only area where public participation is appropriate but it is perhaps the area where it is most necessary.

Jeremy’s discussion is an interesting example since it shows that technicians are more than a little reluctant to collaborate, pluralise or publicise their decision making processes.  Again, this brings us back to the question of power – the ability of the laity to demand their seat at the table.  However, being fair to the technicians, it also raises practical questions of how technical decision-making processes, as I wrote above, can be pluralised without making de-cision impossible.

Monday, 17 October 2011

Secrecy and Think Tanks

The public sector is now so transparent that we have a right to read the private emails of climate scientists working for a state-sponsored university. The private sector is so opaque that we have no idea on whose behalf the people who appear every day on the BBC, using arguments that look suspiciously like corporate propaganda, are speaking.

What does political theory have to say about secrecy? It seems that a large part of power - be it with tax havens or lobby organisations as above - is vested in its secrecy. Yet secrecy isn't ignorance. Secrecy has to be maintained; it takes intensive legal and political enforcement, not to mention highly convenient delineation. Secrecy itself is something fundamental to power - the power to define privacy. Making something public and hence political certainly takes power and a lot of work but this is no less true of making something private. This 'liminal power' that decides the contours of 'the political' is decidedly interesting to me.