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400 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 2007
Where voting encourages one to reduce one’s opponents arguments to a hostile caricature, or whatever it takes to defeat them, a consensus process is built on a principle of compromise and creativity, where one is constantly changing proposals around until one can come up with something everyone can live with. Therefore, the incentive is always to put the best possible construction on others’ arguments.
All this struck a chord with me because it brought home just how much ordinary intellectual practice - the sort of thing I was trained to do at the University of Chicago, for example - really does resemble sectarian modes of debate. One of the things that had most disturbed me about my training there was precisely the way we were encouraged to read other theorists’ arguments: if there were two ways to read a sentence, one of which assumed the author had at least a smidgeon of common sense and the other that he was a complete idiot, the tendency was always to choose the latter. I had sometimes wondered how this could be reconciled with the idea that intellectual practice was, on some ultimate level, a common enterprise in pursuit of truth.
This system of border controls, in turn, is hardly dissolving with globalisation.
It has become popular, of course, to talk as if the growth of trade and migration are making national borders increasingly irrelevant. Look at the same situation in terms of the last five hundred years. It’s easy to see that, while world trade has increased somewhat, overall migration rates are nothing like they were one (let alone two or three) hundred years ago, and the only element that’s entirely new here is the presence of borders themselves.
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On the other hand, the decline of the ‘Chinese model’ has allowed phenomena to reemerge that would have looked, just fifty years ago, bizarrely antiquated: e.g. new zones of permanent low-intensity warfare, such as were typical of Renaissance Europe; the rise of mercantile city-states; the reemergence of essentially feudal relations starting in much of the former Communist world; the parcelisation of sovereignty, whereby the elements we have come to think of as naturally combined in the state are instead broken up and distributed to different institutions on totally different geographical scales.
Almost everyone who writes on the subject assumes ‘democracy’ is a ‘Western’ concept that begins its history in ancient Athens. They also assume that what eighteenth and nineteenth century politicians began reviving in Western Europe and North America was essentially the same thing. Democracy is thus seen as something whose natural habitat is Western Europe and its English- or French-speaking settler colonies. Not one of these assumptions is justified. ‘Western civilisation’ is a particularly incoherent concept, but, insofar as it refers to anything, it refers to an intellectual tradition. This intellectual tradition is, overall, just as hostile to anything we would recognise as democracy as those of China, India, or Mesoamerica.
[...] Democratic practices - process if egalitarian decision-making - however, occur pretty much everywhere, and are not peculiar to any one given ‘civilisation’, culture, or tradition.
The stickier problem was what to do with the fact that the bulk of the American public refused to see the global justice movement as a threat. [...] There is, I think, a simple explanation. I would propose to call it the Hollywood Movie Principle. Most Americans, in watching a dramatic confrontation on TV, effectively ask themselves: “if this were a hollywood movie, who would be the good guys?” Presented with a contest between what appear to be a collection of idealistic kids who do not actually injure anyone, and a collection of heavily armed riot cops protecting trade bureaucrats and corporate CEOs, the answer is pretty obvious. Individual maverick cops can be movie heroes. Riot cops never are.
A former LAPD officer, writing about the Rodney King case, pointed out that most of the occasions in which a citizen is severely beaten by police, it turns out the victim was actually innocent of any crime. ‘Cops don’t beat up burglars,’ he observed. If you want to cause the police to be violent, the surest way is to challenge their right to define the situation. This is not something a burglar is likely to do. This of course makes perfect sense if we remember that police are, essentially, bureaucrats with guns. Bureaucratic procedures are all about questions of definition. Or, to be more precise, they are about the imposition of a narrow range of pre-established schema to a social reality that is, usually, infinitely more complex. A crowd can either be orderly or disorderly; a citizen can be white, black, Hispanic, or Asian...