Direct Democracy and the New England Creed 2

FIRST EDITION

DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND A COMMUNITY POLITICS READER

JONATHAN L. WHARTON

SOUTHERN CONNECTICUT STATE UNIVERSITY Bassim Hamadeh, CEO and Publisher Kassie Graves, Director of Acquisitions and Sales Jamie Giganti, Senior Managing Editor Jess Estrella, Senior Graphic Designer Mazin Hassan, Acquisitions Editor Alisa Munoz, Licensing Associate Christian Berk, Associate Production Editor

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Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN: 978-1-5165-2584-3 (pbk) / 978-1-5165-2585-0 (br) DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND A COMMUNITY POLITICS READER DEDICATION

For my parents, Dr. Richard G. Wharton and Dr. Lou Bertha McKenzie-Wharton. Their active involvement in state and local politics, particularly in Connecticut, inspired me to be engaged in my New Jersey and Connecticut communities. CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 – DIRECT DEMOCRACY AND THE NEW ENGLAND CREED 2

CHAPTER 2 – EARLY NEW ENGLAND AND LOCAL POWER 20

2.1 THE EXPENSE OF THE NEW GOVERNMENT 26

2.2 RHODE ISLAND IS RIGHT! 30

2.3 WHAT DOES HISTORY TEACH? 32

2.4 ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION SIMPLY REQUIRES AMENDMENTS 35

2.5 ON CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTIONS 39

2.6 NECESSITY OF STUDYING WHAT TAKES PLACE IN PARTICULAR STATES BEFORE SPEAKING OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNION 43

BY ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE

CHAPTER 3 – POLITICAL PARTICIPATION AND MODERN NEW ENGLAND 66

3.1 TOWN MEETING: AN AMERICAN CONVERSATION 72

BY FRANK BRYAN

3.2 DEMOCRACY AS PUBLIC TALK: EXPLORING THE CONCEPTS 103

BY FRANK BRYAN

3.3 A LOVERS’ QUARREL 128 CHAPTER 4 – COALITION BUILDING AND INCORPORATION POLITICS IN CONNECTICUT CITIES 148

4.1 REPRESENTATION OF MINORITY INTERESTS 154

BY PETER BURNS

4.2 VARIATION AMONG THE NORTHEASTERN CITIES 162

BY PETER BURNS

CHAPTER 5 – NEW HAVEN: ECONOMIC DEVELOPMENT POLITICS 190

5.1 THE CITY AND THE SIX-LANE HIGHWAY 196

BY MANDI ISAACS JACKSON

5.2 DOWNTOWN LIVES AND PALACES 228

BY MANDI ISAACS JACKSON

CHAPTER 6 – BOSTON: BUSING AND EDUCATION POLITICS 254

6.1 BOSTON BEFORE THE “BUSING CRISIS”: BLACK EDUCATION AND ACTIVISM AND OFFICIAL RESISTANCE IN THE CRADLE OF LIBERTY 261

BY MATTHEW F. DELMONT

CHAPTER 7 – PROVIDENCE: MACHINE AND DISARRAY POLITICS 276

7.1 ”RHODE ISLAND POLITICS: CONTINUED DISARRAY 283

BY MAUREEN MOAKLEY ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe much to my parents beyond their raising and educating me. Dr. Richard G. Wharton and Dr. Lou Bertha McKenzie-Wharton inspired me to observe local politics from an early age. They have always been engaged in helping voters, candidates, and their respective political parties. While they have not been in the same political party, amazingly my parents are not only civil but they also support candidates and causes they believe in. Considering the modern era of hyper-partisanship, particularly at the national levels of government, their outlook appears unusual, but at the root of my parents’ ethos was a firm belief in following community issues. Their guidance proved useful when my brother Joseph and I were neighborhood paperboys delivering the nation’s oldest con- tinuously running newspaper, The Hartford Courant. Not only were we aware of state and local news each morning, my brother and I also knew our neighbors—something my parents stressed was critical for community involvement. In fact, our neighbors trusted us to watch their homes when they were away, mow lawns, shovel snow and babysit their children. For my parents, this was the epitome of trust. In retrospect, community-level relations should embody my parents’ neighboring ideal when it’s more than often the New England way of life. For this trait, I am very grateful to my parents and appreciate my brother’s encouragement. I also respect my family’s support when I returned to Connecticut. My mother surprisingly encouraged me to accept Southern Connecticut State University’s job offer because she not only knew I was homesick, but I secretly think she understood my passion for the Constitution State. Among my longtime neighbors and family friends who have supported my research and writing has been the Wertheim family. Mark, Allicia, Paul, Peter, and Teddy have been awesome community mentors and peers, and they have been engaged in so many causes. For years I have composed much of my writing, including this text, on their corner porch overlooking Long Island Sound—certainly great inspiration for a researcher interested in New England politics. But their decades-long encouragement goes beyond what any author could ever imagine. While I am about to enter my fourth year at SCSU, the regional university has supported my community involvement and research. As former Political Science Department chairman, Dr. Arthur Paulson encouraged me to be engaged beyond campus and to attend numerous city hall meetings and events. He firmly believes in politics being local to the point to where he is infamous for lobbying for bicyclists’ causes in his town of Milford. My current chairman, Dr. Kevin Buterbaugh, respected my tendency to over commit myself to community initiatives, but he realized how critical it was for my research. He often supported my civic engagement to deans and administrators, and for that, I am very grateful. Other department colleagues, like Dr. Theresa Marchant-Shapiro and Dr. Costel Calin and Ms. Monica Mihailoff, have been enduring supporters, and I am very appreciative of their help. Dr. Troy Paddock, who serves as SCSU’s History Department chairman and my academic mentor, has rightfully been relentless for me to put pen to paper for a research project like this one. Thankfully, he is a fellow microbrewery aficionado and cyclist, so in reality I needed the libations and exercise in between the writing and research. Yale University’s Dr. Douglas Rae has been a tremendous resource as well as a local politics mentor. Finally, the deans at SCSU have been very helpful with my ongoing research. Deans Steven Breese and Bruce Kalk not only wanted a specialist in state and local politics, they also supported me through funding receptions, guest lecturers, and having access to the college’s downtown facility with the Greater New Haven Chamber of Commerce near city hall. SCSU’s Southern on the Green academic advisor, Mr. Stephen Marcelynas, has always been helpful as a colleague and supporter. The Chamber’s staff has been an awesome resource for networking and meeting so many state and local officials at their breakfast and luncheon seminars. This may mean little to the lay political scientist, but for a community politics researcher, it does not get any better than the resources and support my deans and the Chamber have provided. A Chamber staffer said to me while I was writing this text, “Do you have a cabin to get away and write?” and I thankfully pointed to my adjacent office space. Cognella first reached out to me about putting together a democracy anthology. Thankfully, Mr. Mazin Hassan not only advocated a reader on New England politics would be possible, but he also thought it was overdue since many Americans focus too much on national politics and not state and local politics. Mr. Sean Adams equally supported the project and helped tremendously with much of the structure and organization. Mr. Christian Berk and his staff were especially helpful with edits, revisions and deadline extensions. Their support has been tremendous, and I am very grateful to them and Cognella. PREFACE

As a native New Englander, I should easily grasp the political mindset in one of America’s oldest regions. With my father’s family from Boston and my growing up in West Hartford, Connecticut, I spent much of my time in Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. I was even blessed to attend a small private school and a Congregationalist church as well as partake in various outdoor activities like biking, kayaking, and hiking. Yet understanding the political mystique of New Englanders is a challenging task. While many study national politics to understand America’s democracy, within the soul of our country’s direct democracy is the history and politics of New England. Even though our current federal government and national parties are challenged with hyper-partisan politics, many New Englanders still revere state and local governments. This is partly due to its rich history in self-governance and citizen political participation. While the two large national parties debate (or rarely communicate political problems) between each other, many local leaders rely on provincial connections in politics. At the same time, there has been a significant generational disconnect about politics between generations—in New England and beyond. Few young residents vote in state and local elections, and even fewer participate in actual direct democracy activities like can- vassing, volunteering, or donating to political candidates and causes. Meanwhile, far more young people are engaged with social media activities like writing Facebook comments, posting pictures on Instagram, or commenting on Twitter than attending meetings or participating in community or political initiatives. This appears to sound very Robert Putnam-like, but Generation Y (those born from 1985 to 2000) sense that political and social engagement can be just as effective online as being politically engaged in direct democracy activities. There is also a deep-seated distrust of institutional systems such as town hall offices, political party committees, and religious spaces like churches. Social media can limit direct democracy, further the generation gap and stymie community politics. Therefore it is important to recognize the history and political involvement of direct democracy in New England. Historically, the political philosophy and religious nature of New Englanders remains in countless village churches and town halls. Many of the region’s residents remain steadfast to tradition and revere community involvement. I did not discover the importance of New England’s social capital until I left Connecticut for college in Washington, DC and New Jersey. I assumed the same neighborly compassion and level of involvement existed beyond New England. Through numerous conference papers, articles, and a book on New Jersey’s cities and Washington, I learned that New Englanders’ political socialization was nothing like their east-coast brethren. I found far fewer attended community meetings, civic events, or religious gatherings. In fact, too many Washington, DC area and north Jersey residents were transient and rarely identified with their communities and had little faith in their local governments, whereas in New England it was quite the opposite. So many New Englanders wear their residency as a badge of honor and politically identify with their town and state. At the same time this political trait can be a detriment since there are constant battles between towns, and NIMBYism (Not in My Back Yard initiatives preventing economic development) becomes problematic. In other words, for all the positive political attributes with which many New Englanders tend to identify, they remain highly traditional and limited in their progressiveness. Politically many are liberal – but to a point. When political or social causes affect their family or community, many New Englanders become provincial, which in turn can lead to political and social barriers limiting progress. Suddenly then, history and traditions become paramount. In the first chapter, I call this political outlook the New England Creed. Since moving to New Haven several years ago, I have attempted to be an engaged citizen scholar. Few in academia appreciate the community-centered approach, but knowing what is taking place at the ground level is critical for a state and local politics researcher. I have attended and participated in numerous New Haven community (management team) meetings and Board of Alders’ hearings and meetings. I even attend area town hall meetings in nearby New Haven County towns like Naugatuck, Milford, and Wallingford. I serve on New Haven’s City Plan Commission, and I am chairman of the local Republican Party. In addition I am on the Board of Directors for New Haven’s Canal Dock Boathouse and serve as deacon and sing for New Haven’s Center Church on the Green, a Congregationalist church founded at the same time the city was established in 1638. I strive to be a part of a community, so I get to know and work with activists, officials, and scholars. Connecting with local people is just as critical as knowing state and local politics literature, and in New England, recognizing the region’s history is a must. By culminating my observations as a citizen scholar and including New England’s history as well as community politics literature, the purpose of this anthology is to recognize the region’s political history and its political present. The two areas are often intertwined for many New Englanders’ mindsets. Recognizing the early political and religious foundations for these states is critical. Linking the past with today’s ever-challenging political problems of economic development and education policies in New Haven and Boston, for example, remains essential. Through primary sources, texts, and monograph chapters on these community topics, this collection offers various viewpoints about the political discourse as well as the history of New England. It becomes a critical reader for Americans to understand the early roots of American democracy as well as respecting New England’s direct democracy. DIRECT DEMOCRACY AND THE NEW CHAPTER 1 ENGLAND CREED

As a region, New England relies on various elements for its direct democracy to thrive. From its civic spaces to its ideological foundations, these early and modern phenomena are essential for the region’s community politics. Direct democracy, the principle of active citizen participation in government, takes various forms in New England. Beyond voting, countless residents volunteer for causes and political campaigns as well as attend community and town hall meetings. Direct democracy relies significantly onsocial capital or citizens coming together to support specific causes. Noted authors like Frank Bryan and Robert Dahl recognize that New Englanders in Vermont and Connecticut towns participate in not only unique but also more direct democracy activities than most Americans.1 For many New Englanders, being engaged in state and local politics is their responsibility as citizens. As Alexis de Tocqueville observed, “The New-Englander is attached to his township, not so much because he was born in it, but because it is a free and strong community, of which he is a member, and which deserves the care spent in

2 Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 3

managing it.”2 In other words, New England’s democracy goes beyond electing officials in the voting booth and demands direct involvement from its citizens. From New England town halls to religious organizations, countless citizens have been con- nected to local institutions for generations. New England states like Maine, for example, score highest in civic engagement surveys as residents follow local issues and partake in social capi- talism.3 This New England trait stands out compared to other regions of the United States. Why? Because of New England’s political and social history, various communities have been affiliated with specific elements that make the region uniquely New England. With many descendants from England, there is not only a Protestant religious tenant but also the universalistic ideal to respect individual rights and property.4 Yankee ingenuity (or the ability to be innovative) and individualism are additional characteristics for many New Englanders. Over generations, then, these perspectives resonate among a variety of citizens. This political socialization or one’s early exposure to understanding politics, helped shape the early and modern New England ethos.5 Many New Englanders experience a nuanced political socialization process but they also share civic spaces, ideological and religious perspectives, which shape their political outlook.

CIVIC SPACES

A significant attribute to New Englanders’ political outlook has been its physical environment and political spaces. While early settlers and later colonists saw New England as a vast place, they often viewed landscapes as commodities, and treated an area as “an ecosystem as iso- lated and extractable units.”6 European settlements caused various skirmishes, battles, and wars with countless Native Americans and already existing tribal nations. Unlike Europeans and particularly English settlers, Native Americans recognized that individuals did not “own” land but held long-standing agreements with their neighbors.7 As Richard Judd offers, “New England natives sustained their identity in part through continued contact with the environment. Despite the ravages of war and the loss of their homeland, they maintained a cultural presence as part of the mosaic of races and nationalities. For the Europeans, the end of the wars meant expanded colonization.”8 These early New England settlements would come in the form of laid out villages and towns often reinventing their old European worlds. The central part of a New England community rests with its town green, town hall, and town religious centers or churches being all near one another. The ubiquitous New England village often has an old municipal hall, federal-style steeple church, and public space or town green. These established civic spaces are the nexus of a New England community. The heart of a village or downtown is to have citizens connect with one another as well as political and religious leaders. By walking and meeting with community leaders, residents have a frequent opportunity to raise community concerns.9 Robert 4 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

Putnam, among others, believe “neighboring”—or the act of meeting residents—is a critical element to fostering social capital.10 While urbanists, like Jane Jacobs, believe neighboring keeps “eyes on the street”11 as neighbors will connect with one another but also watch out for one another. Even in New England cities like New Haven, the purpose of the pre-industrial downtown nine-block grid was to have residents frequently see one another through shared civic spaces in one area. “The major centering institutions of this pre-industrial town – church, commerce, government, education – were all located inside the grid. The original New Haven colony, an independent state with legal pretensions rivaling those of a great nation, endured only briefly (1637–65) before being absorbed as a town by Connecticut Colony.”12 Many planners and developers replicated the village model in additional cities, and they recognized that having local government, religious institutions and civic spaces near one another was a critical element to planning. However, the New England village was a modern phenomenon since it evolved,13 and Puritan communities were usually in dispersed settlements.14 In fact, Joseph Wood argues, “Center villages that epitomize this landscape today mark New England’s nineteenth-century commercial ascendancy. They were proto-urban places.”15 He later offers, “Literary elites—Catherine Maria Sedgwick, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry Ward Beecher, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Sarah Orne Jewett [and Henry David Thoreau], for instance—created the necessary illusion of steadfast village life.”16 Even in the modern era, new urbanism has incorporated these New England romanticized villages. New urbanists have looked to New England cities like Portsmouth, New Hampshire as models of concentrated civic places in their downtown space for civic viability but also walkability.17 “New Urbanist designs encourage public interaction, engagement, and grounded living,” offers Doug Rae.18 These local and religious institutional features then are critical elements to the New England asthetic but also to its public spaces and its community politics to thrive. Geographic location of civic places then played a vital role to early and modern village life. The cherished town green, for example, fosters not just a communal central space, but also a place for residents to partake in seasonal festivals and local forums. They were often lots adjacent to churches and were used for social purposes.19 From clambakes to community discussions, the town greens in many New England locales have active communal events. Milford, Connecticut for example, has its annual Oyster Festival every August.20 New Haven has the 15-day June Arts and Ideas forum and festival on the downtown town green. Artists, thinkers, and religious leaders all partake in community discussions and performances.21 It draws thousands of New Haveners and area suburban residents to New Haven’s Town Green. Arts and Ideas is merely one series of events that take place on the city’s downtown green; other weekend events are similar to it. The green itself, then, is a magnet for local leaders and talent to mingle with city citizens. Aside from the town green, the municipal hall is a significant anchor for direct democracy. Residents are expected to present their concerns about specific policies or even speak openly about any topic possible. Bridgeport, Connecticut for example, has a half hour period before Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 5

their city council meeting for residents to discuss for five minutes any concern they wish during the public-speaking portion of their city council meeting.22 The municipal hall then becomes an active local forum for political and social issues. Many residents partake in spirited political discussions with their elected officials. As Frank Bryan presents, direct democracy orreal democracy at various municipal halls is a political culture but “only when all eligible citizens of a general-purpose government are legislators; that is, called to meet in a deliberative, face- to-face assembly and to bind themselves under laws they fashion themselves.”23 Aside from Bryan’s work on Vermont’s town hall meetings (which appears later in this reader), other recent sources have supported and even challenged the New England town meeting. Donald Robinson’s Town Meeting offers Ashfield, Massachusetts as an example of local governance since it “embodies an enduring American ideal” as “democracy is practiced in ways unusual for most of the United States, where grassroots citizens perform as a government of general jurisdiction.”24 He stresses that rural towns in New England have a sense of continuity, value, and are beloved by residents.25 Democracy in Ashfield is “self-government by the people—[and] is a living reality in Ashford (and in New England towns like it) perhaps more than anywhere in the world at any time in human history.”26 Robinson goes onto to offer various examples of New England open meetings when communities gather together to make decisions for their respective towns.27 Beyond Robinson, Joseph Zimmerman’s The New England Town Meeting also reminds readers that town meetings and school district meetings “are the only direct democracy institutions in the United States involving law-making by assembled voters.”28 He goes onto cite Ralph Waldo Emerson and how he saw that the town meeting sparked local residents to “truly see that they are the lords of the soil.”29 However, Zimmerman discovered that in the modern era few New Englanders attend town hall meetings and other public forums because of residents’ time constraints, urbanization, and socio-economics. He then begins to challenge whether New England town meetings are “pure” democracy or “folklore” if few even attend. 30 New Englanders would like to think that residents participate in these meetings when they show up, but according to Zimmerman (citing Bryan’s research), the average participation levels remain relatively low among registered voters (about 22 percent).31

IDEOLOGICAL FOUNDATIONS

Beyond unique New England spaces, the region’s early philosophical foundations prove to be critical elements to countless residents. Much of the early political thinking originated in Europe following the English Civil Wars, Enlightenment Era, and French Revolution. Many European settlers, colonists, and later generations relied on Thomas Hobbes, John Locke, Jean Jacques Rousseau and Montesquieu (among others) to understand representative government and direct democracy. The social contract, or the political agreement between a government and 6 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

its people, remained essential to countless New Englanders. After all, so many former English residents left the “Old World” to be a part of a new government where representation went beyond specific gentries. InLeviathan , Hobbes reminded readers that political leaders not only have vested interests, but they tend to usurp citizens’ rights and freedoms. After all, these are the “known natural inclinations of mankind.”32 Seventeenth century’s English Civil Wars proved Hobbes’ point as the monarch and parliament were vying over political power, and citizen participation remained limited. “This is the generation of that great LEVIATHAN, or rather, to speak more reverently of that mortal god to which we owe under the immortal God, our peace and defence,” he warned his countrymen.33 Numerous early New Englanders were wary of the English pugnacious model and heeded Hobbes’ warning. For many, particularly Puritans, humankind needed more than Hobbes’ contrarianism.34 In fact, some considered John Locke’s writings more relatable since he emphasized protecting citizens’ inalienable rights derived from God. Locke even thought of early America as a “benign state of nature” with “special preserves of virtue and liberty.”35 In Two Treatises of Government, for example, Locke stressed that representative government is vital for a modern democracy but ensuring that citizens have a right to participate in it is equally important. The people agreed under the Social Contract (or constitution) to give up certain freedoms, so the government will protect their rights, liberty, and property. Through the law of nature and God, humankind has reason, according to Locke. “Every Man, as has been shewed, naturally free, and nothing being able to put him into subjection to any Earthly Power, but only his own Consent; it is to be considered, what shall he understood to be a sufficient Declaration of a Man’s Consent, to make subject to the Laws of any Government.”36 For many early New Englanders then, Hobbes provided a pragmatic (if not contrarian) outlook to government while Locke offered a spiritual foundation to New England democracy. If the two English philosophers provided the basis for New England political philosophy, Jean Jacques Rousseau emphasized the soul of political engagement. Like Hobbes and Locke, the French philosopher recognized the necessity of a social contract between the government and the people, but he stressed that more citizen participation is a must for a civil sovereignty to thrive. At least in the state of nature (or the era before there was government), people could have a direct say in decision-making. Instead, it appeared in the modern era, fewer people were doing so because of government’s overreach, according to Rousseau’s Social Contract work. “Man is born free; and everywhere he is in chains,” he famously opens his first chapter. Rousseau later says that through direct involvement with the government, the people can make the general will known to set the common good above self-interests. “It is therefore essential, if the general will is to able to express itself, that there hold be no partial society within the State, and that each citizen should think only his own thoughts .…”37 According to Steven Cahn, “To institutionalize and sustain the supremacy of the general will, Rousseau proposes a system of direct democracy. Citizens themselves are to assemble regularly to reaffirm their social bonds, evaluate the performance of the executive, and choose the fundamental laws that will be best advance their common good.”38 For Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 7

many New Englanders—and many more Americans—Rousseau’s paradigm became imbedded in political decision-making. From the ability to recall (or remove) public officials to allowing citizens to decide policies through voting referendum or ballot initiatives, these are direct democracy practices but also Rousseau’s principles coming alive in state and local governments.39 Montesquieu offered a unique feature beyond Rousseau to modern democracy by advo- cating governmental power to be splintered among three entities. In The Spirit of the Laws, he argued that it was far better not to have power rest with one institution but among several branches including executive, legislative, and judicial. He urged for representative government to share power and that government must have internal checks and balances. “When the legislative and executive powers are united in the same person, or in the same body of magistrates, there can be no liberty, because apprehensions may arise, lest the same monarch or senate should enact tyrannical laws, to execute them in a tyrannical manner. Again, there is no liberty if the judiciary power be not separated from the legislative and executive.”40 Even before the framers of the United States Constitution relied on Montesquieu’s model, various New England governments already established and even experimented with this paradigm to representative and shared governance at the state and local levels. In fact before the Declaration of Independence, Bostonians met at a 1772 town meeting to draft a list of twelve items against the English government of their “infringements and violations” of the “rights of colonists.” 41 It is no wonder that the American Revolution would be fought only a few years later. The region’s governmental models thus demonstrated the possibilities of Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Locke and challenged the English models. The basic elements of the social contract theory thrived in New England through their respective state constitutions prior to the United States Constitution. According to historian Bernard Bailyn, “for the elaborate system of thought erected by the first leaders of settlement in New England had been consolidated and amplified by a succession of writers in the course of the seventeenth century, channeled into the main stream of eighteenth-century political and octal thinking by a generation of enlightened preachers, and softened in its denominational rigor by many hands until it could be received, with minor variations, by almost the entire spectrum of American Protestantism.”42 In fact Connecticut had its Fundamental Orders in 1639 long before the 1787 Philadelphia Constitutional Convention. This agreement between the state and the people reminded Connecticut residents that it was founded as a Puritan religious colony, and that there is no superior authority except God and that all civil officials report to the electorate and not the church. There was also a General Court among the towns with no affiliation to Massachusetts and Great Britain.43 Connecticut’s Fundamental Orders was radically different than the Massachusetts Charter since the Bay Colony’s signatories and executive and legislative officials were affiliated with a church and English customs.44 As a matter of fact, Massachusetts was the last of the original thirteen states to adopt a state constitution during the American Revolution since Rhode Island and Connecticut modified their royal charters.45 8 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

Not only was representative government sacred in early New England, political participation was also a critical element to governing, as many Enlightenment Era philosophers recognized. “Participatory government of a limited kind had already taken hold in pre-Revolutionary communities … Town meetings and countless kindred consultative forums flourished in seventeenth- century America, and experience in these workshops of democracy bred a self-confidence and a civic culture that generally whetted the appetite for more,” offers Thomas Cronin.46

RELIGIOUS FOUNDATIONS

Various religious institutions—and in particular Congregationalist churches—expected parishioners to be part of the decision-making process. Even though the sect originated in England and adheres to Calvinism, Congregationalism has a very New England dynamic to it because believers must be engaged with the church similar to their involvement with their community. As a Protestant denomination of Christianity, Congregationalism has early New England roots since many believers fled England, and some went on to establish several states and colonies. John Cotton, among other early religious leaders, used sermons on church governance to address larger political principles, and many saw Massachusetts as a “seedbed of democracy.”47 Others, like Connecticut’s early Congregationalist settlers, left Massachusetts to create new Congregationalist footholds in the Constitution State. Many early Connecticut founders, including Thomas Hooker, discovered that too many state and local officials were limiting their religious freedoms, while others desired a theocracy in their religious and civic communities.48 Many New Englanders called these early Connecticut settlers “Puritan zealots” as they left the Bay State to establish new towns with their Protestant ideals.49 “The Great Awakening transformed politics as it did all aspects of life centering on authority,” reminds Bushman.50 Even the Second Great Awakening united many Protestant denominations since it was a regional but also national movement.51 In fact, New Haven was founded as a Congregationalist theocracy and had been ruled for more than a century by an elitist political and religious Standing Order. “Like Connecticut itself, New Haven was a kind of Congregational theocracy in the trappings of primitive democracy.”52 No question the Christian presence was paramount to downtown New Haven’s core since three major Protestant churches stand in a row on the town green.53 Congregationalism demands local decisions made by each congregation, and they “acknowledge Christ as the only Head of the Church, and the officers of each church, under Him, as ordained to administer His laws impartially to all; and their only appeal, in all questions touching their religious faith and practice, is to the Sacred Scriptures.”54 At the root of Congregationalism then is a reliance on parishioners partaking in a church’s operations. Not one but many are to make a decision. Even the pastor’s power is limited because the congregation is the spirited body of God, and ministers would have the “democratization of Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 9

American life had to be reckoned with.”55 From the council of stewards to board of deacons, the internal bureaucracy of a Congregationalist church relies on various individuals to help op- erate the institution, and no one person can decide the fate of a church. “Congregationalism’s driving dynamic was in fact one of lay-clerical interchange,” suggests James Cooper, Jr.56 There was “limited authority” for ministers operating churches, particularly in Massachusetts,57 but parishioner participation was part of Congregationalism’s mission, and it was an important element for New England’s religious and even political soul. “New England was no longer a reformation, it was an administration. It was no longer battling for the principle that most of the populace should be left out of church-fellowship but was striving to keep church-fellowship alive,” offers Perry Miller. Many of these same churches also followed the New England Way to separate their English governance ties.58 Many New England churches, particularly Congregationalist ones, were intertwined with community governance, reinforcing societal uniformity and cohesion.59 “Church government encompassed only those who voluntarily submitted to it (those who did not own the cove- nant did not come under the church’s watch and care), but its moral influence dominated the entire community and was an estimable part of the governing apparatus,” reminds Richard Bushman.60 Some offer that Congregationalism offered an important link to New England’s libertarianism ideology. According to James Cooper, Jr., “Congregational thought and practice in fact served as one indigenous seedbed of several concepts that would flourish during the Revolutionary generation, including the notions that government derives its legitimacy from the voluntary consent of the governed … Notwithstanding its undeniable debts to the Enlightenment and the English dissenting tradition, Revolutionary ideology in Massachusetts emerged from a political culture that contained deeply rooted libertarian traditions stretching back to its founding generation of Congregational settlers.”61 Beyond Congregationalist thought, even Puritan founders called their churches “meetinghouses” since they doubled as civic buildings for nonreligious assemblies62 and were often financed by town appropriation.63 New England town roads often led to these meetinghouses for geometric centrality.64 Religious and civic institutions then were not only interconnected but were also part of the region’s culture. New England Protestants believed in their town being a city upon the hill65 that “often trafficked in the politics of virtue as if they had cornered the market. New Englanders, Thomas Jefferson caustically observed, are ‘marked like Jews with such a perversity of character.’”66 Early geographer and leader Jedidiah Morse reinforced not only the region’s religious but also its political culture. New England had a sacred history, shared habits and customs, and was essentially a nation within a nation.67 He went on to stress New England’s civic distinctiveness, including town-centered civic institutions ranging from churches to local government to militia. The region stood out in its exceptionalism and cultural hegemony, Morse concluded.68 Timothy Dwight, a supporter of Morse, took his fellow geographer’s points a step further and suggested that New Englanders exhibited “national characteristics” since they had a collective identity, group consciousness, and shared circumstances.69 10 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

THE NEW ENGLAND CREED

From religious institutions to municipal government to civic spaces, various New Englanders engaged in decision-making. As historian Edmund Morgan offers, they “strongly believed that popular consent must serve as the basis for government in both church and state.”70 Countless examples demonstrate political participation in New England. For the purposes of this work, this civic intuitiveness is referenced as the New England Creed, in which residents partake in direct democracy activities. Of course, Americans are often reminded of the American Creed ideal, “with its principles of liberty, equality, individualism, representative government, and private property.”71 In a modern sense Gunnar Myrdal popularized the nationalist term in An American Dilemma. According to him, the American Creed “precept of equality of opportunity” extended beyond White America and became a united and driving force for equality writ large for other groups, especially Black Americans.72 Equality and protecting rights became universal virtues because the American Creed united various Americans in light of their diverse racial, ethnic, and religious backgrounds. Samuel Huntington offered his American Creed model in Who Are We? that many immigrants, particularly Latinos, would often adopt, assimilate, or hold dual national identities (which could lead to a “crisis” as he predicts conflicting identities).73 Similar to the American Creed principle, New Englanders find themselves engaged in numerous local political and social causes. The New England Creed is a unique regional identity, but it also reinforces the political mystique of New England. While the New England Creed relies significantly on direct democracy, there are limits to the principle. Since many New Englanders tend to be provincial, they often remain concerned about political and social change affecting their individual families and communities. From urban revitalization to school integration (as later readings here offer), there is parochial resistance to progress even if stratified communities are near one another. As Mandi Isaacs Jackson offers, “In New Haven, the fabulously rich live alongside the terribly poor, and all of the physical symbols of white American affluence and imperialism are within spitting distance of its street level subjects.”74 Although New Englanders remain overwhelmingly liberal (particularly classical liberal in the Enlightenment Era sense), change toward political and social causes impacting their local sphere appears to be a distant and often abstract concern. These provincial, but distance problems become problematic for many New Englanders. Identifying the people who could participate to address community problems at the state, local, and religious levels proved to be an arduous feat in New England. As in American politics, political engagement in New England had generational limitations and inherent contradictions. Since the founding of the colonies and states in New England, only a defined few could participate in direct democracy even if churches found parishioners’ participation important.75 Property-owning white men made the decisions in municipal, community, and church affairs.76 Even church officers were all male and enjoyed voting principles and formal decisions at New England churches.77 It was no secret that many New England merchants, Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 11

particularly Massachusetts’ investors, “were deeply involved in the kidnapping, transporting, and selling of black Africans.” Massachusetts was actually the first colony to authorize slavery by legislative enactment.78 Not until after the American Revolution would New England states ban slavery since the demand for slaves in other American regions remained profitable for northern traders.79 With the Amistad trials and abolitionist movement centered in New England, regional leaders moved to challenge slavery. Success “depended on the grassroots involvement of a sympathetic public,” offers Iyunolu Folayan Osage.80 However, many within the abolitionist movement believed in gradual emancipation81 even if a religious emphasis made slavery a sin and the shareholder a sinner.82 Although abolitionists were on “shaky legal grounds,” the key for the Amistad trial and beyond was to establish that enslaved Africans on the ship were human beings and not property “and no one could have property or salvage claims on them, and the blacks could go free.”83 After all, slaves – including those on the Amistad—were multi- ethnic African people with diverse and varied backgrounds.84 Ending slavery was one step, but a vast majority of white New Englanders remained skeptical of racial integration, voter equality and full citizenship for blacks. This myopic outlook was the political “paradox” of many New Englanders including abolitionists like William Lloyd Garrison.85 Their racial perspective was to see that “color indicates a separate, and lower, social class.”86 Even religious leaders like Congregationalist Jedidiah Morse believed that blacks would always remain separate and that the idea of an interracial society would be impossible.87 Interestingly the early abolitionist movement had ties to the women’s suffrage movement. “It linked white women and free Negro women with a common background and interest. Mostly Quakers and Congregationalists, or other evangelical Protestants, they organized their own anti-slavery societies,” suggests Ross Evans Paulson.88 Following the World’s Anti-Slavery Convention in 1840, the “woman question” of equal rights and voting rights became a central concern for many white women.89 After generations of debates and protests through the aboli- tion and women’s suffrage movements, eventually freed slaves and white women were allowed to participate in New England political and social activities, but this would not happen until the middle of the nineteenth century with slavery’s end and the early twentieth century women’s suffrage movement. This is the unfortunate nature of many New Englanders’ need to exclude and later include a universal citizen-participation ideal for all New Englanders. This exclusionary principle is the duplicitous nature of New England and America – and the shortcomings of the American Creed and the New England Creed. Even after further inclusion of blacks and women, others have attempted to be a part of the New England political landscape. For many non-Protestants, particularly Irish and Italian immigrants, it would take generations of their families to be part of New England’s direct democracy. Robert Dahl, among other scholars, offered the challenges many twentieth century Europeans faced. In Who Governs, he suggests “Irish domination of government jobs made it more difficult of course for later immigrants, particularly Italians and East Europeans, to climb 12 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

the socioeconomic ladder by pulling themselves up with the help of white collar patronage.”90 Within the last century for many Latinos and Asians, for example, participating in direct democracy at the state and local levels proved to be challenging as well. In present day “majority minority” Boston, for example, from 1993 to 2008, “the proportion of [construction] jobs per- formed by residents dropped from 44% to 32%, by minorities from 38% to 30% ...”91 It should be no surprise that when newer populations seek political inclusion, many New Englanders initially resist. It is important to keep in mind that while many residents support protecting individual rights and various aspects of social contract theory, allowing universal freedoms for marginalized groups challenges New England’s status quo. Tradition and legacy are paramount for many, particularly for longtime Protestants. Even in the modern era, many New Englanders are resistant to change in economic development or education policy. From New Haven’s attempts to revitalize itself to public school integration efforts in Boston, so many local residents find pluralist tolerance has its limits.92 It can be due to the provincial nature of New England and the reverence of tradition since many resist change and adhere to the New England Creed for some but not all. Understanding then the historical dynamics of New England along with its modern challenges is critical for respecting the political nuances of the region. While it is one of America’s oldest areas, New England is unique in that much of the European and American principles of direct democracy are paramount for decision making. However, the region is also steeped in tradition, parochialism, and universalism through trial by fire. Early Puritanism also “propagat- ed a New England sense of moral and intellectual superiority that often irritated outsiders.”93 In other words, achieving direct democracy is engrained among many New Englanders, but gaining the principle universally has been especially difficult, and it is an ongoing challenge for many residents. Countless New Englanders appear to be classical liberals (or libertarians) in the modern era, but many resist political or social change considering the regional’s political history and New England Creed principle. Through the book chapters provided in this reader, one observes a pattern of political and social challenges facing direct democracy in New England. Several readings point to the roots of early and even modern American politics, such as The Anti-Federalist Papers in chapter two and Frank Bryan’s analysis of Vermont’s town hall meetings in chapter three. While countless Americans and New Englanders embrace the American Creed ideal of universal equality, many resist change through coalition building politics, per Peter Burns readings in chapter four. Yet as a region, New England serves as a reminder of America’s past as well as its present problems in community politics, as Mandi Isaacs Jackson, Matthew Delmont and Maureen Moakley offer in chapters five, six and seven about New Haven, Boston and Providence. While chapters offered here highlight local politics, one cannot forget America’s political grassroots in municipal halls. There is something to be said about governing at the community level and not from a hyper-partisan bubble in Washington, DC. Many New Englanders recognize that governance comes from being engaged at the state and local levels. Is it Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 13

any wonder that many in the region challenge federalism or a strong central government? Countless early New Englanders and their delegates questioned and avoided attending the 1787 Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia.94 Massachusetts even rejected the initial draft of the Constitution as they questioned a missing bill of rights, which already existed in many state constitutions.95 From New England’s earliest era to today, many New Englanders remain dubious about national politics. After all, self-governance and home rule existed in various areas of New England, so active citizen engagement in town halls points to the region’s unique history and interest in direct democracy. The region’s politics also speak volumes to America’s past and future that many of us need to engage in governing beyond the voting booths and participate in all levels of government.96

ENDNOTES

1 Frank Smith, Real Democracy: The New England Town Meeting and How It Works (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 280–283. See also Robert Dahl, Who Governs: Democracy and Power in an American City (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), Book V, particularly chapter 26 on “political efficacy.”

2 Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America (New York: Penguin Books, 1984), 60.

3 Theda Skocpol, Diminished Democracy: From Membership to Management in American Civic Life (Norman, OK: University of Oklahoma Press, 2003), 258.

4 Dahl, chapter 1.

5 Frank M. Bryan, Real Democracy: The New England Town Meeting and How It Works (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), chapter 12.

6 William Cronon, Changes in the Land: Indians, Colonists, and the Ecology of New England (New York: Hill and Wang, 1992), 21.

7 Donald L. Robinson, Town Meeting: Practicing Democracy in Rural New England (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2011), 26. Even the founder of Rhode Island, Roger Williams questioned the title to the land obtained through negation with Native Americans through the British crown. “The native inhabitants, he argued, had rights derived from first occupancy and from improvement of the land.”

8 Richard W. Judd, Second Nature: An Environmental History of New England (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Presss, 2014), 18–19.

9 Joseph S. Wood, The New England Village (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1997), 88. “Town centers had long been places of social and economic interaction in New England towns.” 14 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

10 Robert Putnam, Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2000), 106–107. He further offers that there has been a decline in neighboring. “Long-term studies of neighborhood life from Boston to Seattle show that although neighbor- hoods at the end of the twentieth century were occasionally mobilized for political purposes, organized social life at the neighborhood level—street carnivals, amateur theatricals, picnics, potlucks, dances, and the like—was much more vibrant in the first half of the twentieth century than in its waning years.”

11 Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities (New York: Vintage Books, 1992), chapter 2.

12 Douglas W. Rae, City: Urbanism and Its End (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005), 39. See also page 35, “Amos Doolittle’s 1824 ‘Plan of New Haven’ emphasizes the area—a pre-industrial core organized around a seventeenth-century common—that would five decades later become the administrative and commercial center of an industrial city.” He goes on to offer that “It has become more complicated, going from nine to twenty-nine squares between 1784 and 1802 as each original square was bisected by a new end-of-century street (as recounted by Doolittle, among others).” Page 37.

13 Wood, 2.

14 Wood, 136.

15 Wood, 6.

16 Wood, 141. See also page 147 where he offers Thoreau’s quote, “I have never got over my surprise that I should have been born into the most estimable place in all of the world, and in very nick of time, too.” Wood immediately replies, “The rise of center villages in the early nineteenth century was a response to an urbanizing world.”

17 Andres Duany, Elizabeth Plater-Zyberk and Jeff Speck, Suburban Nation: The Rise of Sprawl and the Decline of the American Dream (New York: North Point Press, 2000), 22. See also their men- tioning of Rick Chellman’s report, “Portsmouth Traffic/Trip Generation Study” about American’s reliance on cars versus walking.

18 Rae, 31.

19 Wood, 128.

20 www.milfordoysterfestival.com

21 www.artidea.org

22 http://www.bridgeportct.gov/citycouncil and after attending meetings monthly last year, I observed these public forums and was taken aback at the various topics residents would raise. Many of the speakers were electrifying if not dramatic about a number of local issues in Bridgeport.

23 Bryan, 4.

24 Robinson, 3. Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 15

25 Robinson, 10.

26 Robinson, 23.

27 Robinson, chapter 5.

28 Joseph F. Zimmerman, The New England Town Meeting: Democracy in Action (Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers, 1999), xii.

29 Zimmerman, 3. He offers Emerson’s town of Concord, Massachusetts as an example since “‘the great secret of political science was uncovered’ in the town meeting; ‘how to give every individual his fair weight in the government, without any disorder from numbers … Here the rich have coun- sel, but the poor also, and moreover, the just and the unjust.’”

30 Zimmerman, 9–10. He offers Bryan’s model—that the town meeting is “dominated by middle class and professional people.” Zimmerman also provides an example of Woodbridge, Connecticut where prior to the 1990s, their board of finance meetings were packed with 300 to 400 residents but by 1996 barely 50 attended and most of those individuals were town employees and officials.

31 Zimmerman, 93–94.

32 Steven C. Cahn, Classics of Modern Political Theory (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 368.

33 John Gingell, Adrian Little and Christopher Winch, Modern Political Thought: A Reader (New York: Routledge, 2000), 51. See also pages 46–47.

34 Frank Shuffelton, Thomas Hooker: 1586–1647 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1977), 79.

35 Bernard Bailyn, The Ideological Origins of the American Revolution (Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1992), 83–84.

36 Gingell et. al, 88. See also pages 66–67.

37 Gingell et. al, 154. See also pages 136–137.

38 Cahn, 367.

39 Thomas Cronin, Direct Democracy: The Politics of Initiative, Referendum, and Recall (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), chapter 3. Page 39 is particularly useful in applying Rousseau’s early general will models with American direct democracy. He also provides an overview of the three direct democracy models of recall, referendum and initiative on page 2.

40 Gingell et. al, 108.

41 Bailyn, 117.

42 Bailyn, 32.

43 Wesley Horton, The Connecticut State Constitution: A Reference Guide (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1993), 3. See also Sheldon Samuel Cohen, “The Connecticut Colony Government and the Polity of the Congregational Churches” (New York University dissertation, 1963), 4. 16 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

44 Samuel Harrison Rankin, Jr., “Conservatism and the Problem of Change in the Congregational Churches of Connecticut, 1660–1760” (Kent State University dissertation, 1971), 1.

45 Robinson, 72.

46 Cronin, 12.

47 James F. Cooper, Jr., Tenacious of Their Liberties: The Congregationalists in Colonial Massachusetts (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 3–4.

48 Horton, 2.

49 Zimmerman, 117.

50 Bushman, 235.

51 Joseph W. Phillips, Jeddah Morse and New England Congregationalism (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1983), 5.

52 Dahl, 15.

53 Rae, 147 and page 40. In fact adjacent to downtown was “the salt water of Long Island Sound” which had “been pushed away from the city center, but in 1640 the sea came within a one-minute walk of the original grid”

54 J. Leslie Dunstan, Protestantism (New York: George Braziller, Inc. 1961), 99–100.

55 Phillips, 7.

56 Cooper, 7.

57 Cooper, 25. “A no less important check upon clerical control was the liberty that congregations enjoyed to elect lay people to assist ministers in managing church affairs.” Continuing onto page 26, Cooper offers, “Massachusetts Congregationalists never allowed ministers to govern their churches alone; deacons or other worthy laymen assisted pastors in churches that did not utilize lay elders.”

58 Perry Miller, The New England Mind: From Colony to Province (Boston: Beacon Press, 1961), 11. See also page 15

59 Wood, 66. He also offers that, “Congregational control of the church and local political control, including collective regulation of land distribution, encouragement of local enterprise, and coor- dination of communal activities, provided for a distinctive identity.”

60 Richard Bushman, From Puritan to Yankee: Character and the Social Order in Connecticut, 1690–1765 (New York: WW Norton and Company, 1967), 15.

61 Cooper, 5–6. He also offers that, “while by no means democratic, Congregationalism certainly encouraged a significant (if varying) degree of popular participation.” He later states on page 13 that “English Puritans agreed that principles and practices of lay participation must stand as centerpieces in the government in true churches.” Direct Democracy and the New England Creed | 17

62 Joseph A. Conforti, Explorations of Regional Identity from the Pilgrims to the Mid-Twentieth Century (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 23.

63 Robinson, 34.

64 Wood, 93.

65 Shuffleton, 226.

66 Conforti, 81. He further adds that, “Decades before a powerful, defensive southern regional identity emerged, it was New Englanders who inherited, republicanized, and asserted in the context the national politics the new nation’s most well-defined sense of regional distinctiveness and cultural superiority.”

67 Conforti, 82.

68 Conforti, 95.

69 Conforti, 113.

70 Cooper, 13.

71 Samuel P. Huntington, Who Are We? The Challenges to America’s National Identity (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2004), 41.

72 Gunnar Myrdal, An American Dilemma: The Negro Problem and Modern Democracy (New Brunswick, NJ: Transactions Publishers, 2004), 573.

73 Huntington, chapters 8 and 9.

74 Mandi Isaac Jackson, Model City Blues: Urban Space and Organized Resistance in New Haven (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 2008), 12.

75 Cooper, 4.

76 Dahl, chapter 2. See also Rae, chapter 1–3.

77 Cooper, 27.

78 A. Leon Higginbotham, Jr., In the Matter of Color: Race and the American Legal Process—The Colonial Period (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), 62. An entire chapter is devoted to slavery, laws and courts cases associated to Massachusetts. See page 98 in particular: “Yet ownership of human property was endorsed by the power structure … Merchants from Massachusetts, the most vigorous slave traders in the New World, made enormous profits from the slave trade.”

79 W.E.B. De Bois, The Suppression of the African Slave-Trade to the United States of America 1638–1870 (New York: Dover Publications, 1970), 38. See chapter 4 in particular about each New England state’s timeline for ending slavery.

80 Iyunolu Folayan Osagie, The Amistad Revolt: Memory, Slavery, and the Politics of Identity in the United States and Sierra Leone (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2000), xi. 18 | DEMOCRACY IN NEW ENGLAND

81 Osagie, 8.

82 Howard Jones, Mutiny on the Amistad (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 9.

83 Jones, 63–64. See also page 95. “The abolitionists intended to focus on several issues, all touching the central racial problems in the United States. Did free blacks have citizenship? Were sales simply property, devoid of rights? Did American courts have jurisdiction over the case?”

84 Marcus Rediker, The Amistad Rebellion: An Atlantic Odyssey of Slavery and Freedom (New York: Viking, 2012), 5. Rediker’s account of multi-religious and multi-lingual backgrounds of enslaved Africans, particularly those on the Amistad, point to the diverse but complicated history of West Africa which many historians and others tend to overlook.

85 William Cain, William Lloyd Garrison and the Fight Against Slavery (Boston: Bedford Books, 1995), 49–51.

86 Higginbotham, 98.

87 Phillips, 189.

88 Ross Evans Paulson, Women’s Suffrage and Prohibition: A Comparative Study of Equality and Social Control (Glenview, IL: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1973), 14.

89 Paulson, 27.

90 Dahl, 42.

91 Jim Vrabel, A People’s History of the New Boston (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2014), 225.

92 Ronald Formisano, Boston Against Busing: Race, Class, and Ethnicity in the 1960s and 1970s (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press), x.

93 Conforti, 4.

94 Christopher Collier and James Lincoln Collier, Decision in Philadelphia: The Constitutional Convention of 1787 (New York: Ballentine Books, 2007), chapter 5.

95 Robinson, 83.