Tag: democracy

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Democracy and Voting

Real work of democracy begins after voting

   Andrew Fiala

Fresno Bee 2012-11-03

Voting is a central part of self-government. Blood and tears have been shed in the struggle for voting rights. But voting is an imperfect indication of the will of “we, the people.” And voting is only a small part of political life.

Our system of voting creates problems. The biggest problem is the disparate weight of individual votes from state to state. As a result of the way that Electoral College votes are allocated, the votes of citizens in small states are worth more than the votes of citizens in big states. An individual vote in Wyoming has nearly four times the weight of a vote in California.

The Electoral College also creates the phenomena of swing states — where only a few states are the focus of presidential politicking. The Electoral College system combines with the “winner-takes-all” procedure to produce strange possible outcomes: candidates can be elected with less than 50% of the popular vote. This problem is exacerbated when third party candidates play the spoiler. Game theory shows that when there are more than two choices, less favored candidates can be elected.

In order to prevent such outcomes, we might prefer our two-party system. But what happens when you don’t like either of the two major party candidates? Those who are unhappy with the two main candidates may stay away from the polls. Others may vote in other races that matter, while leaving parts of the ballot blank. By abstaining, these voters may intend to vote “none of the above.” But our system is not set up to register a “none of the above” vote. Abstaining has no impact on the outcome of an election.

Henry David Thoreau explained, in “Civil Disobedience”: “All voting is a sort of gaming, like checkers or backgammon, with a slight moral tinge to it, a playing with right and wrong, with moral questions; and betting naturally accompanies it.” Some voters think like strategic gamers, perhaps by voting against one candidate, rather than voting in favor of another. But in our system, in order to vote against a candidate, we also have to vote in favor of another — even if we are not in favor of him or her.

Likewise, when voting on a proposition, we are asked to say “yes” or “no.” But life is more complicated than that. Our lives are not best described in bivalent decisions. In ordinary life, we rank a variety of things in multiple ways as we deliberate about our choices.

Decision-making in ordinary life is also a deeply social process. We talk things over. We listen to each other. We compromise and negotiate. And we aim at a consensus that is satisfactory to everyone involved. But voting is not like that. There is no talking or negotiating in the silence of the voting booth. We do not have to explain or justify our votes to anyone. The process is eerily un-social.

And yet, one reason we vote is that we like to participate in social life. Even though we know our votes don’t count for much, we like to be able to say that we voted. A sort of solidarity develops from voting. We like to wear our little “I voted” stickers throughout Election Day. We smile at our fellow citizens — even those in the other party — and celebrate our shared citizenship.

Voting is only a small part of political life, which also includes talking things over and taking action. We should vote. But we should also explain, argue, and act. Thoreau explained, “Even voting for the right is doing nothing for it.”

The act of voting occurs in a mere moment of time — as a pause from the tumult of political life. We mark our ballots — in secret and in silence — and then head home to watch the returns, enjoying the political game as a spectator sport.

Sometimes we forget that political life involves more than punching a ballot and spectating on the couch. We also need to exchange ideas and argue about the issues of the day. In a sense, the real work of democracy occurs after the voting is over, as we wrestle with the implications of the election, talk things over and begin arguing again.

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Education and Democracy

Holiday marks promise of education, democracy

   Andrew Fiala

Originally published Fresno Bee, 2012-06-30

We may be created equal and endowed with basic rights, but we are not born knowing this. Education is required to help us understand our rights and the legal structure that protects them. Thomas Jefferson once warned, “if a nation expects to be both ignorant and free … it expects what never was and never will be.” As we head toward Independence Day it is important to recall the essential connection between education and democracy.

American schools and universities have the opportunity to change the world. Consider this remarkable fact: The newly elected President of Egypt, Mohammed Morsi, and the Prime Minister of Israel, Benjamin Netanyahu, were both educated in the United States. Morsi received his Ph.D. from USC. He taught at Cal State Northridge. Two of his children were born in California, which means that they are U.S. citizens. Netanyahu graduated from high school in Philadelphia and later earned degrees from MIT.

This reminds us of the global reach of the American educational system. Not only are we educating our own citizens but also people from across the planet. This is an amazing opportunity to disseminate democratic values.

Since Plato, democracy has been criticized as unstable rule of the ignorant mob. If the masses are uneducated and immoral, democracy can produce negative outcomes. And if the rulers are not properly educated, they become despotic demagogues who pander to the mob. Plato’s solution was anti-democratic. He wanted to educate the best individuals — those of good breeding. This ruling elite would then keep the masses under control through the use of propaganda and force.

The American Founders proposed a different solution: more and better education. Faith in the power of education is a deeply American ideal.

Benjamin Franklin argued that there was nothing more important to the common good than “to train up youth in wisdom and virtue.” He continued: “wise and good men are, in my opinion, the strength of the state.” Franklin even imagined, contrary to the prevailing opinion of his day, that education could be of value for women and blacks. Franklin worked to establish the Philadelphia Academy, a school that played a central role in the intellectual lives of many of the Founding Fathers.

Jefferson wanted the state of Virginia to fund public education for all citizens. The Virginia legislature balked at the expense. But Jefferson persuaded the state to fund the University of Virginia. Jefferson argued that “primary education” should “instruct the mass of our citizens in their rights, interests and duties, as men and citizens.” Higher education was to go further in educating future statesmen, scientists, and business leaders. The university was to “develop the reasoning faculties of our youth, enlarge their minds, cultivate their morals, and instill into them the precepts of virtue and order … rendering them examples of virtue to others, and of happiness within themselves.”

George Washington was also an ardent supporter of education. Washington asked the first U.S. Congress to consider establishing a national university. In his address to that first Congress, Washington stated that among other things, education was essential for “teaching the people themselves to know and to value their own rights.” He went on to say that education teaches citizens “to discriminate the spirit of liberty from that of licentiousness — cherishing the first, avoiding the last.”

The Founders thought that education would produce virtue, wisdom and love of liberty. This would prevent democracy from sinking toward rule of the uneducated, vicious mob. And it would prevent statesmen from becoming demagogues.

For two centuries, Americans have worked hard to improve our educational system. We now have universal and free public primary education. Our schools are less segregated. And our universities are the envy of the world.

But it’s not easy to provide quality education in an incredibly complex society that includes recent and noncitizens. Teachers are supposed to get this diverse group of children to understand their rights and value democratic governance.

Public school teachers are the guardians of the future of democracy. As we contemplate budget cuts and taxes for education, we should ask ourselves how much we are willing to spend in order to educate citizens (and even noncitizens) about the need to secure the blessings of liberty for ourselves and our posterity.

 

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Voting, Cynicism, and Irrational Optimism of Democracy

Act of voting requires us to overcome cynicism

   Andrew Fiala

Originally published Fresno Bee 2012-06-16

Most Californians elected not to vote last week. Statewide voter turnout was less than 30%. Fresno County turnout was around 20%.

It is rational not to vote — especially in an election like this one. There were a couple of referenda where your vote might have made a difference. But in other races, the incumbent had no viable opposition. Republicans already knew that Romney was the party’s choice; and Democrats had no choice at all. It is remarkable that anyone bothered to vote, given the inevitability of much of the ballot.

What is even more remarkable is that some voted for candidates who had no chance of winning, like Ron Paul, who got 10% of the Republican vote. This seems quite irrational. Why vote for a candidate who cannot win? Isn’t it easier to just stay home?

I talked about voting with professor David Schecter, the chair of the Political Science Department at Fresno State. Schecter maintained that democracy is not a spectator sport. We have the opportunity — maybe even an obligation — to get involved and to vote.

Schecter suggested that there are many reasons why people vote. Voting can be an expressive act. When we vote, we affirm solidarity with others who have fought and died to achieve the franchise. When we vote, we act as role models — showing our children what we value. Some may even view voting as a moral obligation or a duty of citizenship, along the same lines as military service or jury duty.

Schecter pointed out, however, that social scientists also explain voting behavior as a matter of habituation. If your parents vote, you are likely to vote. People who voted in previous elections are more likely to vote in the next election than people who have not voted. Political scientists also can predict electoral behavior based upon demographic data.

But we like to believe that there is more to our own decisions than mere habit or demography. Can mere habit explain why we continue to vote when we know our votes don’t matter much? Or why some people vote for candidates who have no chance of winning?

One explanation is hinted at by the American philosopher Josiah Royce and his analysis of “lost causes.”

Royce discusses the spiritual power that is generated by those who persevere in the face of loss. When we remain loyal to a lost cause, we grieve what we’ve lost while renewing our efforts toward the future.

In many cases, it is rational to give up and surrender. But for some people, the lost cause provokes even more effort.

Royce describes a kind of energy and joy that comes from idealistically serving a cause “of which the world, as it is, is not yet ready.”

Royce’s idea helps explain why people remain committed to religious faith. It even helps explain why people keep getting married despite the fact that many marriages end in divorce.

And it explains our irrational faith in electoral politics. We want to believe, despite evidence to the contrary, that our votes count.

Every election season, we somehow find the will to believe that this time things will be different. We set our cynicism aside and go to the polls. Even when we know our votes don’t count for much, we vote. Or we vote for candidates who have no chance of winning.

There is a kind of irrational optimism and idealism among those who vote. Voters express faith in the system when they vote for losing candidates, the lost causes of American politics.

Why bother? The lost-cause voter wants to somehow send a message to someone, hoping that someday the world will be ready for a change.

The act of voting requires us to overcome cynicism with enthusiasm.

Voters were right to conclude that their votes didn’t matter much last week. Chances are that the turnout will be greater in the fall — when there are more choices that really matter. But we might worry that we’ve lost our idealism and given in to cynicism.

The 70% to 80% of voters who stayed home last week may suspect that American politics really is a spectator sport. If that’s the conclusion, then democracy itself is on its way toward becoming a lost cause.

 

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Democracy, education diminish our cruelty

Democracy, education diminish our cruelty

Fresno Bee, January 28, 2012

People are becoming less cruel and more humane.  This is the thesis of Steven Pinker’s optimistic new book, The Better Angels of Our Nature.  Pinker, a Harvard Psychologist, provides extensive data to support his conclusion, citing a variety of developments from low homicide rates to the demise of dueling and the abolition of slavery and torture.

He attributes some of our improvement to the fact that people are getting smarter.  He notes that rising IQ scores during the past century bode well for a more peaceful world, since smarter people are less violent.  He notes, for example, that smarter people tend to commit fewer violent crimes. He concludes, “people with more sophisticated reasoning abilities are more cooperative, have larger moral circles, and are less sympathetic to violence.”

There are reasons to be skeptical of any straightforward attempt to link intelligence with virtue.  Individuals with low IQ’s can be compassionate and kind; and some psychopaths are exceedingly clever.  But Pinker does provide some reasons to think that better education produces gentler people.

One causal mechanism for this sort of progress is literature.  Pinker thinks that representations of cruelty can change our attitudes toward violence.  And he argues that reading is a useful tool for developing empathy.  Reading demands that we imagine our way into another person’s point of view.  Widespread literacy—made possible by printing technologies and mandatory schooling—may well be a major cause of moral progress.

One sign of this progress is that fact that warfare has become less cruel.  Pinker thinks it is significant that despite the horrors that are still occasionally unleashed in war, we have self-consciously refrained from using our worst and most deadly weapons.  He suggests that nuclear warfare has become “too dangerous to contemplate, and leaders are scared straight.”

This conclusion hinges on the intelligence of our leaders.  Indeed, Pinker claims that there is a correlation between Presidential IQ and deaths in war.  According to Pinker, smarter presidents wage fewer wars and produce fewer wartime casualties.

Such a blithe conclusion should be taken with a grain of salt, since it assumes that presidents wage war in a vacuum without the input of the military or the cooperation of foreign allies.  And such a conclusion ignores the fact that our representatives in the Congress have some control over how wars are fought.

This points toward a central question: do wise and virtuous leaders cause moral improvement?  The Greek philosopher Plato thought so.  Plato rejected democracy as rule of the uneducated and unvirtuous masses.  He thought we would do better under the watchful eye of a wise and benevolent ruler who would protect us from our own vicious and ignorant ways.

We are no longer sympathetic to this idea.  Instead, we tend to believe that we are smart enough and good enough to govern ourselves. Pinker’s analysis gives us reason to trust this democratic impulse.  It is our modern democratic state and its educational system that has made us smarter and better.  Most of the moral progress that we’ve made during the past millennia has occurred under democratic government and has been facilitated by the expansion of literacy and education.

People are not born smart or good.  We are born with the capacity to learn and with a basic capacity for empathy.  But we must learn all of the specifics, including how to control our own violent impulses.  Education is essential for understanding the complex moral and political problems that confront us in our globalized world.  Intelligence and virtue develop as a result of the sustained effort of parents, teachers, and a supporting social environment.  And our moral and intellectual skills develop further, as we exercise our own capacities for self-government.

It is amazing how much moral progress we have made.  We no longer allow slavery or torturous punishments.  Women have been liberated. And we recognize that our most destructive weapons are immoral.  Good for us for figuring this out!

These moral developments were not imposed upon us by philosopher-kings.  Rather, they resulted from democratic procedures and were produced by our system of education.  The key to future progress is to trust ourselves and to continue to believe that democracy and education can make us both smarter and better.