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PSAI Conference, Dublin 8th -10th Oct. 2010

Bringing the People back in: Civil Society Activism and Related Ideas of Citizenship

Dr. Brid O’Rourke Email: [email protected] / [email protected]

Abstract: An active participatory civil society has variously been associated with the promotion of social capital and civic trust, the generation of more cohesive, solidaristic relationships among local communities, and an essential component in an extended sphere of democratic participation. More again consider active engagement in the associational life of civil society as playing an important role in the development of attitudes and dispositions required for the practice of citizenship. At the same time understandings of the relationships between the state and civil society diverge greatly, with claims that it be viewed as a source of legitimacy and stability for governments and as a spontaneous growth requiring at best only minimum input from government and its agencies. The different theoretical ideas and ideals underpinning these contrasting conceptions of civil society are critically assessed and evaluated over the course of this paper. Two strands or ‘models’ in contemporary literature are singled out for particular attention. The first societal model, with its links to debates on social capital and the ‘good’ of community, enjoys widespread popularity. The second integrationist model – drawing for the most part on Jürgen Habermas’s account of civil society and the public sphere for its inspiration – highlights the role played by civil society in the consolidation of democracy. I argue that civil society activism is too heavily weighted towards society-centred considerations with insufficient attention paid to the background institutional framework. I propose the adoption of a civic model of active citizenship with an emphasis on the ‘political’ dimension of public/political discourses. Drawing on these arguments and applying them to the Irish case, in particular the contribution by civil society groups and communities to policy-making discourses, I argue that their involvement should be understood as an exercise in political autonomy and democratic citizenship. Bringing the People Back in: Civil Society Activism and Related ideas of Citizenship

Introduction

The notion that civil society activism is something that ought to be encouraged is not new. It has been lauded by numerous politicians on all sides of the political divide down through the years. In recent times it has again been brought into the public domain by the Conservative Party in Great Britain. Since he took over the leadership of the Party in 2005, the current Prime Minister David Cameron has promoted the notion of ‘the big society’ as one of the central themes in his political manifesto. In a recent speech in Liverpool he went so far as to describe his ‘drive’ to get people to become active participants in their local communities as his ‘great passion’. At the launch in question he claimed that the proposed programme represented ‘a big advance for people power’. As an antidote to what he referred to as ‘over centralised government’, he stated that the measures he was announcing were intended to give ‘individuals and communities more control over their destinies’.1

It is not surprising to find that the criticisms of, and objections to, Prime Minister Cameron’s proposals have been numerous; chief among them the accusation that it is simply a cover for the implementation of substantial cuts in services to the public. Despite claims to the contrary by the Prime Minister, sceptical Trade Unionists have questioned the use of volunteers as a ‘cut price’ alternative to the provision of a decent standard of social services. The Labour Party has argued that the programme is nothing more than a continuation of the many partnership schemes involving local communities already in existence.

In order to come to some understanding of what is at stake for the general body of citizens who are being urged to respond to this call to become more involved in their

1 See http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-10680062 (19July2010).

2 local community, it is necessary to take a critical look at the range of assumptions which would appear to underpin this vision of ‘the big society’. To begin with, criticism of interference by ‘over weaning’ governments in the everyday lives of citizens has become a familiar theme in current debates about how the balance between states and society ought to be construed. This has generally been accompanied by calls for the transfer of control over significant areas of local development and local services to community groups and civil society associations operating within these areas. However, the claim that such a move would result in ‘a big advance for people power’ needs to be fleshed out more fully. Similarly, the benefits to society that are presumed to accrue from the active participation by citizens in their local communities also need to be assessed and their implications for state / society relationships critically evaluated.

In this paper I argue that contemporary debates about how a revitalised civil society might be generated, and the processes viewed as critical to its development, tend to focus almost exclusively on societal considerations. One of the key themes to have come to the fore in this context is the concept of social capital. Influenced by the ideas advanced by Robert Putnam, supporters of this view of socio/political relationships have highlighted the potential of associational networks and norms to generate trusting relations that will, it is suggested, act as the necessary support base for a functioning democracy – a claim that will be critically examined over the course of this paper. Particular attention will be paid to Putnam’s argument that social capital constitutes a moral resource, with the cooperative norms developed in social networking viewed as an exercise in civic virtue and the seedbed for the development of society-wide civic consciousness. These claims will be contrasted with those advanced by the sociologist James Coleman, who was one of the earliest theorists to make use of the concept. I will argue that not only does Putnam’s interpretation of the causal relationship between associational life and democratic political structures depart significantly from Coleman’s analysis but that it is also sufficiently different from Alexis de Tocqueville’s account of the interdependent nature of the relationship between the two spheres, to call into question his contention that he is simply reworking many of the ideas first developed by the nineteenth century political philosopher.

3 Aside from the cohesive possibilities afforded by the generation of vibrant, participative community activism, the role of civil society as an essential component in an extended sphere of democratic participation has also been stressed by some commentators. Active engagement in associational life has come to be viewed as playing an important part in helping to develop the attitudes and dispositions required for the practice of democratic citizenship. For the purpose of this paper I will refer to this second strand or ‘model’ as the integrationist perspective on civil society. The most obvious point of difference between the two models is that for many coming from the society-centred side of the divide, civil society is treated for the most part as a ‘free-standing’ concept, while those who support a more integrationist approach tend to view civil society as one half of the society/state divide. The conceptual framework for the latter is reflected in the civic republican idea of citizens as joint participants in a self-governing political community and in Jurgen Habermas’s discourse theoretical model of deliberative democracy.

Of particular relevance in the case of Habermas is his argument that the opinions generated in the myriad associations within civil society, in so far as they are free and can be said to fulfil the minimum requirements for publicity, feed into the public sphere. Habermas has identified constitutionally guaranteed equal rights for all citizens and the latter concept of the public sphere, as among the defining features of a modern-day liberal democratic polity. However, he maintains that although the discourses taking place within civil society have the capacity to transform attitudes and dispositions within society as a whole, the opinions emerging from them, and the issues and concerns identified by civil society groups and associations, cannot be expected to impact directly on political debates at institutional level. Before reaching the political realm, they form the basis for what he calls ‘communicative discourses’ in the public sphere. Only then can they make their way into debates at institutional level. Hence, their influences can best be described as informal rather than formal.

It should be noted that one of Habermas’ main concerns when discussing the democratic possibilities of participation in the public sphere is to establish its normative credentials

4 and to demonstrate the interdependence between rational discourses which have as their subject matter the collective life of the political community, and the legitimacy of liberal democratic self-government. I do not propose to question his claims relating to the public sphere and its contribution to democratic politics. Rather, I want to suggest that under certain circumstances public/political dialogue can be opened up to include civil society discourses. Although the subject matter of these discourses generally involves issues that are of particular concern to individual groups and communities – as opposed to the universalist requirements of ‘moral’ or ‘rational’ dialogue – I propose that where the arguments in question are advanced in a reasonable manner and the participants agree to adhere to the ‘rules’ or norms of civic engagement, public/political communication can be opened up to include these and other concerns of a ‘particular’ nature which have come to the fore in the ‘non-political’ discourses within civil society.

John Rawls’s account of the virtue of public reasonableness and the norms required of citizens who participate in what he refers to as ‘public reason in a well-ordered society’ will be used to illustrate the range of attitudes and dispositions that ideally citizens ought to cultivate, and willingly adhere to, when engaging in public/political discussions aimed at regulating the common life of a political community. I argue that public/political virtues, such as those suggested by Rawls, and the accompanying civic skills, can best be learned and developed in ‘intermediate’ institutional settings. Participation in structures such as these, not only provides groups and communities with a platform to communicate their interests, preferences and needs, but also, when suitable constructed, to have a meaningful input into debates about the nature and shape of social and political life – a core component of the praxis of democratic citizenship.

The version of civil society defended in this paper is one where I endeavour to combine the normative and political possibilities afforded by civil society activism, with the cohesive/solidaristic benefits accruing from vibrant associational life. The proposal is that, while building on their respective strengths, we need to go beyond both of these positions and develop a conception of civil society in which the public or civic dimension of participation in associational life comes to the fore. I will do so by focusing on the

5 characteristics required for citizenship – as opposed to accommodating the particular concerns of groups and communities – as the defining feature of a ‘healthy’ civil society. In effect, my claim is that we should reassert the ‘political’ – albeit with a small ‘p’ – aspect of active engagement in associational life. Irrespective of their many differences, civil society theorists tend to concur with the view that the dispositions required for citizenship are cultivated, exhibited and primarily displayed in civil society. To this end my discussion will be situated within the context of current debates about ‘active citizenship’ and what this might mean for our understanding of the social and political possibilities afforded by civil society activism.

Approaching associational life from the perspective of citizenship brings into focus the question posed by the political theorist Richard Norman; in what way can the activities undertaken by civil society groups and associations help to make active citizenship a reality (Norman, 1992: 47)? This is the key challenge to which I respond with my proposals for a civic interpretation. Alexis de Tocqueville’s findings in relation to the decentralisation of political power and the democratic virtues cultivated in political participation provide additional insights into the likely sources or ‘seedbeds’ of civic attitudes and dispositions. Added to this are the opportunities currently afforded to voluntary groups and civil society organisations by the wide range of intermediate institutions and discursive structures which have been instituted in recent years in most European countries, including Ireland. The suggestion that they can provide citizens with a point of entry into an expanded sphere of democratic engagement in a way that not only enables them to cultivate and practice civic virtue, but also offers an alternative means of actively participating in public/political life, is one I will defend over the course of this paper.

The Irish Case: While much of the discussion here will take the form of an analysis of the many theoretical claims and normative arguments that have come to the fore in recent years, in order to assess the policy implications and practical application of these debates, I will consider how they might be used to address some of the issues and challenges currently

6 facing the various associations and groups in the community and voluntary sector in Ireland.2 It has been suggested in a recent paper that the rapidly changing environment in which Irish civil society groups operate could be viewed as affording ‘increased possibilities for action’. The key to exploiting these possibilities, it is claimed, resides in the nature and functions of the relationships between sector organisations, and between non-profit and political and private sectors.3 The paper found that despite important developments, policy recommendations and commitments entered into over recent years, there is little appreciation of the value of voluntary activity to the wellbeing of society as a whole. Instead, the relationship tends, in practice, ‘to be defined by the (legitimate) imposition of administrative controls to ensure compliance and accountability’ (Keenan, 2008: 24).

I will contend that the inability on the part of the Irish Government to formulate a clear vision of the ‘worth’ of the community and voluntary sector, and the inconsistency of its views as to the extent of its contribution, is a reflection of the level of ambiguity that has become a feature of its relationship with the sector. There is an assumption that involvement in voluntary organisations constitutes the kind of civic activity that would assist in the development of a more civic-minded body of citizens – an assumption which owes much to the popularity accorded to the society-centred model by political and social commentators on all sides of the political spectrum. At the same time, the civic content of the sector’s participation in public/political governance processes tends to be largely outweighed by functional and administrative considerations. This could be said to account, in part, for the current lack of clarity about its status and its contribution to political and social life in Ireland.

However, Ireland is not alone in this context. Uncertainty about how the relationship between governments and civil society ought to be construed is also a common feature in

2 The status of the Irish community and voluntary sector (or the ‘non-profit sector’ / ‘third sector’) as one of the key players in Irish civil society was officially confirmed with the publication of the Government White Paper Supporting Voluntary Activity (2000) 3 See http://www.cnm.tcd.ie/dialogue/summer-schools/CNM%20Context%Report.pdfl This paper was commissioned by the Centre for Nonprofit Management at Trinity College Dublin to inform and contribute to the discussion at the Centre’s third annual Summer school in June 2008 and its author is Owen Keenan

7 most Western democracies. Differing views about the degree of independence/interdependence that should be maintained between the two spheres have their roots in fundamentally opposing views on the relative priority of the freedoms which this state/society distinction is intended to secure. In the Irish case, debates on the nature of the relationship between the two spheres tend to revolve around differing interpretations of their relevant ‘functions’.

One of the main challenges facing supporters of civic activism and democratic citizenship is the tendency in recent times to define the relationship between the state and civil society organisations – particularly those involved in service delivery – in contractual terms, with citizens referred to as ‘customers’, ‘clients’ or ‘users’ of state services. In light of their role as partners with government in the provision of a wide range of welfare services, this has particular relevance for many organisations in the Irish community and voluntary sector. Referring to the emergence of this trend in Ireland over the recent past, one commentator describes this as a situation where ‘the vernacular of consumption has gained ascendancy over the vernacular of citizenship’ (O’Sullivan, 1999: 57). There is a danger that community and voluntary sector participation in other partnership arrangements could be similarly misconstrued. This is an issue I will return to later in the paper.

The Societal Model of Civil Society Activism

The Social Capital Debate: As noted previously the most predominant model of civil society activism on both sides of the Atlantic has, in recent years, been the society-centred approach, as a consequence of which attention has focused primarily on finding ways of revitalising communities and reconnecting individuals. The question of how individuals might be induced to cooperate with each other and coordinate their actions in ways that all might benefit has come to

8 occupy centre stage in many contemporary debates both inside and outside politics. Concern about the damaging consequences of individualisation and atomisation and the need to construct a more inclusive social order has also been an issue for those who support the integrationist perspective but they have sought to address the problem differently. The difference between them can be accounted for by the tendency on the part of those who support the former set of ideas to assume that, for the most part, social coordination is principally a matter for communities to resolve among themselves with at best only a minimum involvement by the state. Those who support the latter, on the other hand, see it as an intrinsic part of the democratic project.

The emergence in recent years of a body of literature dealing with the concept of social capital has resulted in much of the discourse on civil society’s role in helping to counteract social fragmentation being conducted from within the framework of this concept, with the theories advanced by its main proponent Robert Putnam at the centre of these debates. I propose to take my lead from this development and to progress my analysis of this perspective or ‘model’ of civil society through the lens of the ongoing debate on social capital, incorporating criticisms advanced by some commentators who disagree with many of the core claims which form the centre-piece around which the concept has been constructed.

The definition of social capital tends to be fluid. The majority of writers define it in terms of the networks, norms, values and understandings that facilitate collaborative activities and the achievement of common objectives.4 It is generally accepted by sociologists and political scientists working in this area that networking among individuals enhances social life. Robert Putnam is credited with having initiated much of the contemporary interest in the concept. But it has since been picked up and developed by the OECD who, in a report entitled The Well-being of Nations: the Role of Human and Social Capital, maintains that strong links can be established between social capital and economic growth and prosperity. The World Bank has also come to recognise the significance of social capital, particularly in relation to developing countries where it believes it can help

4 This definition is taken from the Executive Summary of The Well-being of Nations: the Role of Human and Social Capital, published by the OECD, 2001.

9 to disseminate information more freely, assist in the effective management of the common pool of resources, and influence the capacity for risk management.5 Here again there is a focus on relationships which serves to link social capital to the issue of social cohesion, in so far as it can be deemed to be both a consequence of, and a producer of, social cohesion.

Some concerns have been expressed about the apparent tendency to conceive of social capital as a theoretical device which can have application across a range of different analyses involving quite distinct disciplines. Michael Woolcock, for one, fears that in so doing we run the risk of it becoming all things to all men, due to the apparent lack of empirical specificity and what some regard as conceptual overreach – all style and no substance. The real message, as he sees it, is that it draws attention to how, and on what terms, we associate with each other. At the same time it discloses some of the implications this can have for our general well-being. He proposes that we should acknowledge what he calls ‘the multi-dimensional nature of its sources’. Woolcock suggests that the diverse range of definitions which have emerged in recent times may, in fact, refer to a number of different types of social capital as well as different combinations of the different dimensions of the concept.

One dimension focuses on the issue of civil participation, where involvement with one’s local community is seen as a useful proxy measure of social capital. The second dimension involves distinguishing between this form of ‘bonding’ social capital from ‘bridging’ social capital – where the former refers to relations among family members, close friends and neighbours and the latter to more distant friends, associates and colleagues. The term ‘bridging’ is a horizontal metaphor which is used to imply the idea of ‘connections between people who share broadly similar demographic characteristics’. A third includes the vertical dimension of social capital which he refers to as ‘linkages’, meaning the capacity to leverage resources ideas and information from formal institutions beyond the community. This multi-dimensional approach, he claims, allows us to argue 5 These points were made by Dr Michael Woolcock, of The World Bank and Harvard University in a paper entitled What is Social Capital and what role does it play in Economic and Social Development, which he delivered at a conference organised by the Dept. of Social, Community and Family Affairs which took place on March 29th 2001 in Dublin.

10 that it is ‘different combinations of bonding, bridging and linking social capital that are responsible for the range of outcomes we observe in the literature’ (Woolcock, 2001: 13).

Accordingly, different combinations of bridging, bonding and linking can be associated with different outcomes. Where all three are absent, the people concerned are either outcasts or hermits. Where there is bonding and bridging only, one possible outcome is the formation of cliques and factions. It should also be noted that where there are a plurality of associations, bonding social capital may accentuate inequalities with the ‘capital’ being used to promote the interests of the groups themselves. Bridging, on the other hand may expose those on the margins to an environment in which they cannot compete on equal terms. As Michael Edwards remarks; ‘A strong civil society would not necessarily make society strong and civil’ (Edwards, 2004: 36).

It is worth noting that one of the earliest theorists to refer to the concept of social capital was the sociologist James Coleman (1988, 1991), and he was primarily concerned with analysing what it does or can do, rather than discussing what it is or what it might be taken to be. He maintained that it can best be defined in terms of its function. Like other forms of capital, social capital is productive, making possible the achievement of certain ends that in its absence would not be possible. That is, it represents the resources provided by certain social structures which persons can use to achieve their individual interests, or simply as a ‘means’ for ‘getting things done’. Unlike other forms of capital, social capital inheres in the structure of relations between actors and among actors. It comes about through changes in the relations among persons that facilitate action. Accordingly, in his original use of the term he refers to it as a ‘conceptual tool’ which he made use of to analyse particular social structures – both as a mechanism for exploring the context in which the actions take place and explaining the motivations of the actors involved.

One of Coleman’s key findings is that social capital constitutes an intangible, albeit fragile social resource found in relationships, and more especially in informal networks which enable the group in question to affect some form of collective action. One of the

11 consequences which, he suggests is the development of trusting relationships – a vital element in situations where cooperation is called for. However, throughout his writings Coleman continuously maintains that ultimately individual persons are the main beneficiaries of social capital.

Among the conclusions that have subsequently been drawn from Coleman’s arguments is the idea that involvement in community-type organisations can be a creative process benefiting both individuals and society. Just as Coleman had found that the presence of social capital in families and communities enhances the human capital of young people through education and training so too can the social capital, generated by the act of participating in collective enterprises, help to build the kind of trust, which according to Putnam and others, will enhance the capacity of groups and communities to cooperate with each other and coordinate their activities for the mutual benefit of all concerned. Although Coleman simply made use of the concept of social capital as a theoretical device, it is evident that many of his ideas have influenced the way in which it has come into use in more recent times.

Robert Putnam and Social Capital: Nonetheless, significant differences remain between Coleman’s original account of the concept and its later uses. For example, what was nothing more than a minor factor in his discussion – voluntary organisations as a resource for both human and social capital – has become one of the main subjects in Putnam’s analysis of the reasons why social capital in the U.S has declined in recent years. Against what he sees as a pattern of declining political participation Putnam turns to the sphere of involvement in voluntary associations, bowling clubs, choirs, etc., not only to counteract prevailing trends but also to provide the most effective range of solutions for many of the current social and economic problems (Putnam, 2000). It is difficult to equate these wide-ranging presuppositions with Coleman’s much more limited conclusions where he found that persons are motivated primarily by what can be shown to be in their interest.

12 At a broader level, the most notable difference and probably the one which is most important in the present context, is the distinction between Coleman’s structural analysis which focuses on the outcomes generated by social networks, organisations and related linkages, and the normative claims advanced at a later date by Putnam. Not alone is it being claimed that coordinated action on the part of groups and communities is likely to be more successful where it is supplemented by adequate ‘stocks’ of social capital, but that in situations where social capital appears to be in rich supply it can be taken as evidence of the presence of certain dispositions and attitudes – analogous to a form of ‘civic virtue’ among the participants themselves.

This has to be seen as a highly significant move on the part of Putnam. It also signals a more fundamental shift in the wider discourse on civil society whereby it begins to emerge as primarily a discourse about values. Rather than focusing on the quantity of civil society organisations and their vitality, the emphasis changes to the quality of the commitments entered into by citizens. In addition the willingness of the citizens themselves to enter into these commitments is presumed to derive from the practice of civic virtue rather than some other rational or self-interested goals or purposes. Accordingly, a civil society is one in which its citizens are called upon to develop attributes and characteristics that are not only ‘civil’ but also ‘civic’. Viewed from this perspective, it would seem that where we find stocks of social capital we can also expect to find attitudes and habits conducive to civic engagement, which Putnam equates with the moral resource that is civic virtue.

It would appear the grounds for this normative claim by Putnam can be traced to two sets of assumptions, one of which relates to the societal thesis and another which links his position to the integrationist side of the divide. The first relates to the issue of trust and the general belief that trusting relationships are an indispensable prerequisite for the development of social cohesion, and the integration of otherwise marginalised or excluded individuals and groups. The second is connected to his assumption that with his theory of social capital he is following the example of Alexis de Tocqueville and his nineteenth century study of American democracy, where he deduced that positive

13 conclusions could be drawn between participation by citizens in the associational life of civil society and responsive and effective government.

In his Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Modern Italy (1993) Putnam argued that a similar set of linkages can be shown to exist in the more successful regions in modern-day Italian democracy (Putnam, 1993: 88-92). Furthermore, he believed that in adopting this approach he was highlighting an area which had not been given a great deal of attention in modern democratic theory. His indebtedness to Tocqueville for the insights which led him to conclude from his research into the situation in Italy that a direct correlation can be deduced between the networks and norms of social capital and a successful democracy, can be evidenced from the following extract: As depicted in Tocqueville’s classic interpretation of American democracy and other accounts of civic virtue, the civic community is marked by an active, public-spirited citizenry, by egalitarian political relations, by a social fabric of trust and cooperation. Some regions in Italy, we discover, are blessed with vibrant networks and norms of civic engagement, while others are cursed with vertically structured politics, a social life of fragmentation and isolation, and a culture of distrust. These differences in civic life turn out to play a key role in explaining institutional success. (Putnam, 1993: 15)

Social capital, as Putnam presents it, represents the ‘motor’ which drives trusting relationships within and between groups by providing them with the necessary sense of collective efficacy. At the same time these relationships are the product of past success. Viewed thus, social capital would appear to operate in ways that could be described as self-perpetuating. This, in essence, is the basis of his argument that horizontally organised voluntary associations which cut across social cleavages are more likely to nourish wider social co-operation, to reinforce norms of reciprocity and thus more likely to ‘make democracy work’ than hierarchical, segmented organisations or clientelist structures (Putnam, 1993; 173-175). These are substantial claims which, as we have seen, encompass three quite separate sub-claims relating to the following areas: a social fabric of trust and cooperation; egalitarian political relations; and a ‘civic’ community composed of active public-spirited citizens. The claims relating to the social fabric and political relations could be said to overlap to some degree with the two civil society models referred to earlier; the societal and the integrationist, while the latter claim relates

14 to the ‘civic’ content of participation in civil society. In the following sections I will critically examine some of the key components in the first and second of these claims. The third will be the subject of a later discussion

Social Capital and Trust:

One of the key issues which is central to any discussion on trust concerns the relationship between ‘particularised’ and ‘generalised’ trust. Or, to quote Jean Cohen; ‘How does intragroup trust become trust of strangers outside of the group: Why does a willingness to act together for mutual benefit in a small group such as a choral society translate into a willingness to act for the common good or to become politically engaged. . . . is the interpersonal trust generated in face-to-face interaction the same thing as “generalised trust”’ (Cohen, 1999: 220)? This is not an easy question to answer and opinions differ on whether or not a reciprocal relationship can be established between the two. Aside from asking the question of why we should trust strangers we also need to ask what are the circumstances which might induce us to do so.

Again we find that Coleman has provided a succinct analytical account of the link between trust and social capital and the various ways in which concrete personal relations serve to establish expectations, generate trust and in so doing create and enforce particular sets of norms. The following is a summary of the argument he advances in relation to ‘trust’ and its application when analysing the contextual nature of social problems. On a personal level where A does something for B and trusts B to reciprocate some time in the future, this establishes an expectation on the part of A and an obligation on the part of B. Coleman suggests that this can be conceived as a valuable ‘credit slip’ which may or may not be called upon in the future. High levels of outstanding obligations mean that the individuals in question have more social capital on which they can draw. This form of social capital depends upon two elements; the trustworthiness of the social environment, which means that obligations will be repaid and the actual extent of the obligations held. The existence of norms accompanied by sanctions also has a highly significant part to play. Where a norm exists and is effective, it constitutes a powerful,

15 though sometimes fragile, form of social capital. We can deduce from this that in situations where the necessary sanctions are either ineffective or absent entirely, the resulting social fabric could also be described as ‘fragile’.

We can see in this account provided by Coleman the suggestion that while the presence of a cultural environment supportive of trusting relationships might provide the necessary backdrop for the kind of social trust envisioned by Putnam in his concept of social capital, in and of itself it is not sufficient to ensure that the obligations in question will be fulfilled. Indeed, trust by its very nature is essentially a risky undertaking and belief in the trusting nature of others can oftentimes be misplaced, leaving one exposed to the tangible risk of suffering damage. Trust needs to be balanced against other resources should the relationship break down. Coming to the debate about trust from a different angle, Claus Offe issues a cautionary warning against the danger that trust might come to be considered as a substitute for other social resources. ‘The rich, the powerful, and the well-informed can afford to trust as they can comfortably survive the contingency of the trust being disappointed, whereas the less powerful on either the supply or demand side of trust may suffer badly from the breakdown of the trust relation’ (Offe, 1999: 53). The outcome as he sees it is the paradoxical situation where those who are most in need of trust-based relations, because they have little else to rely upon, cannot afford the risk involved, while those who need it least enjoy it most.

But this is not the only kind of trust implied in Putnam’s account. There is an expectation on his part that the reciprocal norms generated at the level of society will not only extend horizontally but will also be reflected vertically to include trust in the institutions that ‘make democracy work’. Even if we accept his premise that the presence of extensive networks cutting across social cleavages are more likely to nourish wider forms of social cooperation and to help reinforce norms of reciprocity, how can we be assured that this will result in a more successful form of democracy underpinned by egalitarian political relations? If the debate is broadened to include the question; what are the circumstances which might induce us to trust strangers – mindful of Coleman’s reference to the need for sanctions – it would seem that without the backing of political and legal structures

16 adequate to the task of enforcement, ‘generalisable’ trust of the kind presupposed by Putnam, would remain, at best, a somewhat utopian ideal.

This aspect of the debate about trust is taken up by Jean Cohen in her criticism of Putnam’s claim that dense cross-cutting networks in and of themselves are sufficient to give rise to relations of trust and reciprocity of the kind that provide democratic institutions with their essential grounding. She accuses him of failing to offer any mechanism which might explain how or why this kind of trust might be expected to emerge. What is missing from Putnam’s account is a recognition of the complex interrelations between the norms required for generalisable trust, the procedures whereby these norms can be validated democratically and the political and legal institutions that ‘make democracy work’. Cohen is of the view that his narrow theoretical framework precludes him from making provision for these vital elements which, if they had been included, would make for a richer analysis of the enabling conditions that might induces us to trust strangers (Cohen, 1999: 220-223). These criticisms by Cohen take us into Putnam’s second claim.

Social Capital and Effective Democratic Government: As noted earlier, Putnam believed himself to be following in the footsteps of Alexis de Tocqueville who, in his Democracy in America had marvelled at the proliferation, range and variety of associations he discovered in American civil life. Throughout his travels he had been struck by the profusion of voluntary public associations which, despite the remoteness of the federal state, had enabled otherwise isolated individuals to cooperate for collective purposes. Many of these had been formed in civil life without necessarily having any direct reference to political concerns. ‘Americans combine to give fetes, found seminaries, build churches, distribute books and send missionaries to the antipodes. Hospitals, prisons and schools take shape that way . . . if they want to proclaim a truth or propagate some feeling by the encouragement of great example, they form an association’ (Tocqueville, 1966: 662).

17 However, unlike Putnam’s preoccupation with the moral benefits of membership in voluntary associations, Tocqueville maintained that their real significance relates to the fact that they give citizens both the taste and the habit of collective self-rule. Michael Foley and Bob Edwards maintain that this is the context in which Tocqueville’s comments should be understood: In democratic countries the science of association is the mother of science; political associations (albeit with a small ‘p’) are the free schools for democracy; they provide lessons in the art of association; citizens learn to organise, to exchange views, to guard their autonomy and to keep an independent eye on government. They provide the necessary training in citizenship that enables them to fill the void in the underpinnings of democracy and provide an inherent linkage between the individual citizen and democratic politics (Foley and Edwards, 1997: 554). As the real loci of self- rule Tocqueville held that they can’t be too large. They must also be numerous and exist in many levels of the polity. He proposed that the exercise of political power ought to be decentralised so that self-government can be practiced at local level and not just at national level.

It should be noted that Tocqueville’s assessment of American associational life is set against the background of the social conditions prevailing at that time which he considered to be inherently problematic. America was a new nation noted for the egalitarian character of its social make-up, but without the support of a ruling aristocracy – which at that time would have been the norm in France – to uphold and manage public life. Accordingly, these associations had been formed not just to fulfil both public and private needs but more importantly to fill this void in public life. He maintained that the experience gained by persons who participate in these associations helped to educate them in the requirements for citizenship while also providing them with a degree of training in the necessary political virtues.

It is evident that Tocqueville did not intend his account of the competences and cooperative virtues developed in associational life in America to be interpreted exclusively as evidence of a vibrant civil society. There is no denying that Putnam’s choral societies and bird-watching groups may teach self-discipline and an appreciation

18 of the joys of cooperation and collective collaboration. However, by noting the importance of collective self rule and calling for the decentralisation of political power, participation in associational life for Tocqueville is taken to imply more than simply the generation of those cooperative norms pertaining to the pursuit of particular ends or goals. In essence the associations singled out by Tocqueville for particular mention arose in response to a particular need which, in the context in question related to what he considered to be the problematic conditions posed by the egalitarianism of American social life.

In a separate argument which relates directly to the relationship between associational life in civil society and effective democratic government, Tocqueville maintained that the freedoms bestowed by the American Constitution and the existing political institutions played an important part in so far as they facilitated the exponential growth of the great variety of associations that sprung up to meet pressing human needs and to further public ends. As Foley and Edwards remark; ‘Tocqueville’s account of the origins of associational life in America is thus broadly structural and functionalist: The need generates the means to meet it’ (Foley and Edwards, 1997: 555). Accompanying this is his belief that political institutions underpinned by constitutionalism can provide the essential structural preconditions.

What this means is that unlike Putnam’s uncritical acceptance that the renewal of civil society and the generation of social capital will provide the foundation for a more effective and stable democratic order, we find that in Tocqueville’s account the causal relationship is reversed, with associational life in civil society being shaped by the prevailing social and political conditions. Relating these differences to contemporary discourse on civil society, Foley and Edwards remark that; ‘A rich associational life may be necessary . . . for the health of democracies; but democracy itself is largely responsible for generating such associational life, and as social, political, and economic conditions change, so too, will the character of a society’s associations’ (Foley and Edwards, 1997: 555). This conclusion by Foley and Edwards alerts us to another dimension of civil

19 society activism, namely the relationship between civil society and what some refer to as ‘democratic governance’.

The Integrationist Model of Civil Society Activism

Thus far, I have suggested that the society-centred version of civil society activism with its emphasis on the possibilities afforded by vibrant associational life supported by ample ‘stocks’ of social capital is the one that has commanded the most interest in recent debates. However, as mentioned earlier, there is an alternative approach which highlights the importance of civil society as an essential component in an expanded sphere of democratic participation, sometimes referred to loosely as ‘democratic governance’ What is at issue here can be summed up as Habermas’s thesis that a democratic polity should include participation by citizens in formal and informal forums where they are given the opportunity to voice their concerns and come to decisions about collective affairs. His ‘discourse-theoretical model of deliberative democracy’ incorporating what he refers to as ‘communicative action’ is intended to bring together or to synthesise the core component of both classical civic republicanism and the version of egalitarian liberalism which locates its roots in the philosophy of Immanuel Kant. The principle of collective sovereignty is a fundamental belief common to both theories. At its most basic, it translates into the right of citizens to govern themselves by obeying laws which they themselves have made. Habermas describes this as ‘the self-constitution’ or the ‘self- empowerment’ of a society of free and equal citizens. According to his theory, the way to achieve this must be through public dialogue and debate, with access open to all on an equal basis.

A central feature in his theory is the distinction he makes between the formal institutionalised decision-making structures of government in parliaments and local councils and what he calls the informal ‘public sphere’. This is an arena outside of the

20 state which can shape opinions, initiate criticisms and through free and open debate exercise a degree of control over the workings of these formal bodies. It should be noted, however, that the public sphere does not ‘act’ in the formal sense; it is merely a ‘space’ in which deliberation takes place. Actors can only expect to acquire influence and not political power. In turn, this influence is transformed into communicative power only after it passes through the ‘filters’ of the institutionalised procedures of democratic opinion and will-formation and enters through parliamentary debates into legitimate lawmaking (Habermas, 2007: 371).

In his early formulation of the concept, the use of the term ‘public’ is intended to signify an arena or space in which equal citizens come together, set their own agenda and form their opinions through open communication. This idea of the public sphere broke with the notion of society based on unified, overarching values and ways of life. What characterises this sphere is that it is power free, secular and rational. Among the threats to the public sphere Habermas lists commercialisation in the form of the logic of the market, bureaucratisation in the form of administrative systems and clientisation which threatens to undermine the normative force of citizenship and is the manifestation of a combination of the other two. In more recent works he acknowledges that it can no longer be categorised as a unitary concept, instead he proposes that it be understood as a highly complex network of social spaces, stretching across different levels, consisting of a wide range of different assemblies, forums, arenas, and meeting-places where citizens gather for a variety of purposes and which is reproduced through communicative action. Outwardly, he claims, it is characterised by open, permeable and shifting horizons.

Until quite recently he has tended to consider the public sphere as ‘a communication structure rooted in the lifeworld through the associational network of civil society’ (Habermas, 2007: 359). In other words, as a communication structure that is localised in civil society. This has led him to describe the ‘institutional core’ of civil society as comprising ‘those nongovernmental and noneconomic connections and voluntary associations that anchor the communication structures of the public sphere in the society component of the lifeworld’ (Habermas, 2007: 366,367). In addition, he concedes that

21 these associations cannot be taken to represent the most conspicuous elements of a public sphere which tends to be dominated by mass media and other large research and advertising agencies commenting on the findings from market and opinion-poll data. In order to distinguish the spaces occupied by these ‘free’ associations from the more ‘political’ dimensions of the public sphere, he refers to them as constituting the ‘civil- social periphery’ of the public sphere. However, the significance of this civil-social domain for Habermas is the potential it has for bringing a number of concerns, originally broached in the private spheres of the ‘lifeworld’, to a larger public, by availing of the range of civil society forums and platforms from where they can subsequently gain a place on the ‘public agenda’. In situations where the perception of the relevance of particular social problems experienced at the periphery is sufficient to evoke what he calls ‘a crisis of consciousness’, Habermas is confident that this will provoke a response even in the ‘more or less power-ridden public spheres’ (Habermas, 2007: 382).

Linking the sphere of civil society to the sphere of democratic government, Habermas maintains that the two are intertwined through the activity of political parties and general elections. Hence, the political system must remain sensitive to the influence of public opinion. On the other side of the coin, the network of associations can assert its autonomy and preserve its spontaneity only insofar as it can draw support from a plurality of ways of life and subcultures which have their origins in the private lives of individual citizens.

Highlighting the limited scope for action that can be afforded to civil society – and in this respect one might add in sharp contrast to Putnam’s analysis – he warns against assuming that of itself it represents a focal point where the lines of societal self-organisation as a whole would converge. A robust civil society can develop only in the context of what he calls ‘a rationalised lifeworld’ where it can be shown to have the support of a liberal political culture and the corresponding patterns of socialisation, underpinned by an integral private sphere. The connection between his theory and democratic governance, is represented in the chain of processes which illustrate the way in which problems identified in the networks and dialogical forums of associational life are filtered and thematised by way of communicative action through the informal opinion-forming

22 channels of the public sphere where they then ‘feed into’ the more formal institutions of the democratic political sphere.

But this is only one stage in what could be described as the ‘governance loop’ intended by Habermas. In contrast to Putnam’s social capital argument where the trajectory is seen as entirely a one way process proceeding from the bottom upwards, he maintains that self-empowerment and the practice of self-determination on the part of free and equal citizens – even it is only being exercised indirectly in the periphery regions of associational life in civil society – is itself embedded in a highly complex circulation process incorporating reflective public debate and institutionalised opinion and will- formation. The political system, through its connection with the public sphere, is shown to be dependent upon the lifeworld sources of communicative power for both the effectiveness of its achievements and the legitimacy of its decisions. Stemming from this legitimacy, the common opinions that emerge in the free spaces of civil society are ultimately converted into law at the uppermost reaches of a democratic parliament. But this law can only be said to be binding where it can be shown to reflect – however minimally – the will of the sovereign body of citizens.6 This ‘governance loop’ can be summarised as the following: groups and communities within civil society are dependent on the sensitivity and openness of the political system for their autonomy, while at the same time, the political institutions are themselves dependent for their legitimacy upon a political culture in which free and equal citizens identify with these institutions and structures as the expression of their political autonomy.

This in essence is the critical distinction between the societal model and the integrationist perspective. Those coming to the debate with a set of assumptions in line with the former tend to construct their ideas of what civil society activism can be expected to achieve based on an understanding of the sphere as a largely ‘free-standing’ entity, while those favouring the adoption of the latter structure their assessment of its

6 As an aside it is again worth noting the contrast between Habermas’s account of the normative grounds underpinning the obligation to abide by the law and Putnam’s assumption that law-abidingness emerges as one of the beneficial outcomes of generalised trust without any apparent link having been established between the development of attitudes and dispositions of this nature and the normative requirements of democratic law-making.

23 potential in terms of its situation as one half – and a highly significant halt – of the state/society divide. Consequently, the ‘civic’ content of the virtues alluded to in the societal interpretation relates almost exclusively to the quality of horizontal, interpersonal relationships with little or no acknowledgement of the role played by the structures and institutions of the state in creating and maintaining the political culture that facilitates the emergence of these cooperative norms.

However, I contend that in recent years it has become evident that an addition factor needs to be given due consideration, namely; the requirement that citizens in general are predisposed to cultivate a particular set of ‘democratic’ qualities. I want to suggest that while both of the societal and the institutional ‘models’ can help us to come to a better understanding of the potential afforded by civil society activism, we can add to these insights by identifying the characteristics which, ideally, citizens should be encouraged to adopt when fulfilling their role as active participants in a vibrant, democratic polity, along with the conditions best suited to the generation of these attitudes and dispositions. This then is the basis for my proposed civic thesis of civil society activism.

The Civic Thesis of Active Citizenship

Up until quite recently the debate about citizenship has focused almost exclusively on the responsibilities of public institutions to ensure that the rights of all citizens are fully guaranteed and protected. John Rawls had declared at the outset in his Theory of Justice; ‘Justice is the first virtue of social institutions, as truth is of systems of thought’ (Rawls, 1973: 3). The responsibilities and duties of citizens have tended to received far less attention. This situation has begun to change in latter years as it has become increasing clear that, of itself, the ‘basic structure’ is not sufficient to uphold justice in a modern liberal democracy. It has come to be acknowledged that aside from their dependence on a

24 background political culture that is supportive of the rights and principles secured by a liberal democratic polity, the generation of particular qualities and attitudes among its citizens has an equally important role to play in ensuring the upkeep of just institutions. Will Kymlicka summarises the requirements for responsible citizenship as the following; Their sense of identity and the way they view potentially competing forms of national, regional, ethnic, or religious identities; their ability to tolerate and work together with others who are different from themselves; their desire to participate in the political process in order to promote the public good and to hold political authorities accountable; their willingness to show self-restraint and exercise personal responsibility in their economic demands and in personal choices that effect their health and the environment. Without citizens who possess these qualities, democracies become difficult to govern, even unstable. (Kymlicka, 2002: 84)

I propose that in order for these civic qualities to be cultivated and put into practice a degree of interdependence needs to be established and maintained between associational life and the realm of politics, with the porous nature of their relationship reasserted. In essence, I suggest that the ‘political’ dimension of civil society activity, albeit it with a small ‘p’, ought to be reclaimed. Following Kymlicka, particular attention is paid to activities that could be considered conducive to the development of capacities and dispositions that not only assist in the development of a more public-spirited citizenry, but which also facilitate the generation of a political culture supportive of the norms required for the maintenance of just institutions.

Rather than calling for the revitalisation of civil society on the grounds that doing so would help to restore social responsibility and re-moralise communal life, I argue that when participation in associational life is considered in terms of the opportunities it provides for the exercise of citizenship, active engagement in civil society groups and communities can be shown to have the potential to impact positively on both the social and the political spheres in a liberal democratic polity. Of particular relevance in this context is whether such participation could be construed as an exercise in ‘political’ or ‘social’ citizenship and whether the corresponding relationship with the state could be deemed ‘active’ rather than ‘passive’. I contend that by adopting such an approach we would be better positioned to analyse the contribution to social and political life that could be expected from a vibrant, active civil society. States too will be required to play

25 a part over and above ensuring that the necessary regulatory framework is maintained effectively and the rights of citizens are secured. In order for groups and associations within civil society to have a meaningful input into the praxis of politics and to participate in helping to define the nature of their political community – the position I am defending – there will also be a need for governments to ensure that all of the relevant parties can participate equally. This may require the provision of additional supports for those groups and communities who might otherwise be excluded through lack of resources or other forms of disadvantage.

Expanding the debate on the possibilities afforded by civil society to include ideas on citizenship opens it up on a number of important fronts and offers additional possibilities for critiquing many of the prevailing ideas. To begin with, when we consider the requirements for social citizenship, we find that the general health and overall prosperity of groups and communities experiencing poverty and other forms of disadvantage is, to a large extent, tied to the redistribution policies of states – contrary to Putnam’s assumption that economic gain could be expected to follow from abundant ‘stocks’ of social capital. Likewise, without government intervention aimed at alleviating these problems, the groups in question are more likely to harbour feelings of distrust towards their fellow citizens rather than the cohesive relationships presupposed by supporters of the societal model discussed previously. As noted earlier, a connection needs to be forged between participation in associational life and the civic dimension of citizenship conceptualised as the idea of citizens collectively engaged – however indirectly – in constituting themselves as a political community.

However, this ideal of participative, democratic citizenship is made all the more difficult to achieve by the tendency of late to define the relationship between citizens and the state in terms more suited to the market, in particular the recent custom of referring to citizens as ‘clients’, ‘customers’ and ‘users’ of state services. While this may be in keeping with the idea of grounding the relationship between citizens and their state on a social contract, this latest move represents a slippage whereby the theoretical concept of the liberal social contract is transformed in everyday language and practice into an economic

26 contract. One of the likely outcomes of this recent development is a widening of the division between the state and its citizens and the emergence of what could be described as a more ‘passive’ rather than an ‘active’ conception of citizenship. One of the consequences, particularly with increased involvement by civil society organisations in social service provision, has been to judge the operations of these bodies in terms of efficiency, to the detriment of other more traditional public sector values such as fairness, equality, inclusivity, non-discrimination, etc.

On an individual personal level, this results in a tendency to foster the development of utility-oriented morals among those citizens in receipt of benefits, and the perception of a more privatised conception of citizenship among society as a whole. As Will Kymlicka remarks; ‘Markets teach initiatives, but not a sense of justice or social responsibility’ (Kymlicka, 2002: 90). The net effect is a disconnection between the production of public goods by the state from the realm of public action, the integration of which, I argue, ought to be seen as intrinsic to the practice of democratic citizenship. The status of citizens as public actors with the capacity to participate in what Habermas calls ‘public opinion-and-will formation’ in and through open debate is seriously compromised in this version of ‘social’ citizenship.

On the other hand one of the main objectives intended by the formation of semi- autonomous intermediary institutions and governance structures throughout many European countries, in which the plurality of interests and cultural concerns could be debated publicly, has been to reconnect the public and the private spheres and to re- establish the interdependent nature of the relationship between civil society and the state. As the ‘institutional’ counterpart of Habermas’s public sphere, I suggest that the required civic skills can best be learned and developed by citizens actively participating in the many intermediate structures which have become a feature in many European countries – including Ireland – in recent years. Partnership type structures such as these are intended to provide additional support for representative democracies by facilitating the inclusion of a more extensive range of ‘voices’ in the process of devising a framework for public policy. Civil society organisations and associations are particularly suited to this task

27 given their position outside of the formal party political structures and the links many of them have with marginalised, vulnerable communities – including those whose vulnerability can be attributed to cultural differences, economic factors, or a combination of both.

While agreeing with Habermas when he suggests that civic attitudes and dispositions are developed primarily within civil society, I argue that one of the benefits of these ‘intermediate’ institutions is that they provide those citizens who participate actively in civil society groups and communities with an opportunity to put these dispositions and public virtues into practice. Intermediate structures such as these provide citizens with a dialogical setting in which a plurality of views can be discussed publicly in ways that, theoretically at least, should not be subjected to the constraints imposed by administrative ‘systems’ or contractual ‘market-type’ considerations. The more arenas there are which enable citizens to engage in free and open discussions with significant others whose values and conceptions of the good life differ significantly from their own, the more reflective they themselves are likely to become, and the more they can develop an appreciation of the benefits that can be accrued from collective action.

Among the basic characteristics required of citizens who participate in these ‘intermediate’ structures is a willingness to abide by certain ‘rules’ or ‘norms’ and a commitment to practice the ‘civic’ or ‘political’ virtues of toleration and reasonableness – what Chantel Mouffe describes as ‘the conditions of civility’ (Mouffe, C. 1993: 72). Will Kymlicka notes that along with a willingness to set forth one’s own views intelligently and candidly, ‘public reasonableness’ in this instance also includes ‘the willingness to listen seriously to a range of views which given the diversity of liberal societies, will include ideas the listener is bound to find strange and even obnoxious’ (Kymlicka, 2002: 85). Acknowledging the fact that the virtue of public reasonableness is less relevant for those citizens who do not wish to participate in public debates, nonetheless, according to Kymlicka, justice requires that all should have the opportunity to become politically active should they choose to do so.

28 The theoretical argument in support of the virtues of public reasonableness and civility has been advanced by John Rawls in his Political Liberalism. These virtues have a particular relevance in liberal democracies where problems posed by pluralism need to be addressed politically. Starting with the assumption that the background conditions for his account of ‘political citizenship’ warrant the description of ‘reasonable pluralism’, Rawls maintains that ‘public reason’ can be presupposed as ‘characteristic of a democratic people: it is the reason of its citizens, of those sharing the status of equal citizenship. The subject of their reason is the good of the public: what the political conception of justice requires of society’s basic structure of institutions, and of the purposes and ends they are to serve’ (Rawls, 1996: 312). In the context in which it is being presupposed, ‘public reason’ is only intended to apply to political questions involving basic justice and matters relating to ‘constitutional essentials’ – similar to the subject matter laid down by Habermas as among the appropriate content in discourses relating to ‘public-political-will formation’. Whereas Habermas has acknowledged that a liberal political culture would need the support of citizens who are prepared to practice civic virtue, he did not provide a clear account of what form the particular attitudes and dispositions might take. Rawls, for his part, provides us with a detailed account of what could be expected of citizens in their role as active participants in a ‘well-ordered society’.

Rawls states that: ‘In order to fulfil their political role, citizens are viewed as having the intellectual and moral powers appropriate to that role, such as the capacity for a sense of political justice . . . and be capable also of the political virtues necessary for them to co- operate in maintaining a just political society’ (Rawls, 1996: xlvi-xlvii). Furthermore, the rights that citizens can expect to enjoy in exercising their moral autonomy and ‘capacity for the good’ in their private lives are ‘constrained’ by the requirements for reciprocity and mutuality and the need to justify their political decisions to others within a society marked by profoundly diverging views on personal morality, philosophy and religion.

When he comes to discuss the issue of participation in more detail, Rawls maintains that all citizens have an equal right to take part in, and to determine the outcome of, the constitutional process that establishes the laws with which they are to comply. He does

29 acknowledge that political liberty of itself can have a profound effect on the moral quality of civic life. Along with contributing to the growth of civic friendship, it also helps to shape the ethos of a given political culture. In addition, it enhances the self-esteem of the average citizen by enlarging their intellectual and moral sensibilities, all of which serves to inculcate a sense of political competence among the public at large. He reminds us that J.S. Mill has already pointed out the necessity to develop what he called ‘a public spirit’ if citizens are to acquire an affirmative sense of political duty and obligation, over and above a mere willingness to submit to law and government. ‘Without these more inclusive sentiments men become estranged and isolated in their smaller associations, and affective ties may not extend outside the family or a narrow circle of friends’ (Rawls, 1973: 234).

All of which takes the discussion to what I consider to be the central connection between active citizenship, the practice of civic virtue and participation in civil society associations. Richard Norman suggests that the fundamental question which needs to be asked about civil society associations is not the psychological question; can they make people feel part of a wider community, but the question; can they make active citizenship a reality? In other words, can they facilitate the exercise of political autonomy by providing citizens with the opportunity to play an active role in helping to develop the kind of society in which they would like to live when constituted as a political community? Norman summarises the accompanying dilemma as the following: ‘The case for active citizenship cannot be made simply by saying that it is necessary as the underpinning for citizenship-as-rights’ (Norman, 1992: 47). We have to move from the liberal emphasis on rights to the liberal emphasis on autonomy. However, he stresses that autonomy is too circumscribed if it is confined to the private activities of individuals to their choice of life-style or economic activity. Citizenship rights and duties must rest on something deeper; on involvement in the common activities of a political community – a conclusion which is not too dissimilar to the Rawlsian vision of a ‘well-ordered’ society as one in which the ‘rational’ exercise of individual autonomy is circumscribed by the commitment to ‘public reason’ and the ‘moral duty of civility’.

30 As he perceives it, the central problem facing those who want to promote the concept of active citizenship is how to ensure that the appropriate ‘mediating institutions’ can be put in place which would provide citizens with a point of entry into political life, thereby enabling them to exercise more effective control over their individual lives. His preferred ‘mediating institutions’ are those which enable citizens to actively participate in; ‘debates about the character of their society, and attempt to have some influence on its present administration and future development’ (Norman, 1994: 46). Looked at in this way, Norman’s proposals for the role played by these institutions and the ‘political’ nature of their discourses would seem to have much in common with the general thrust of Habermas’s expectations in relation to the operations of the ‘public sphere’. The difference here is his suggestion that the ‘arena’ occupied by these mediating institutions be viewed as the context in which citizens can, within reason, exercise their ‘political’ or ‘collective’ autonomy – becoming in effect ‘spaces’ or ‘arenas’ within which the practice of active citizens can become a reality.

Framing Public Policy: The Role of Irish Civil Society

Both of the ‘models’ I have identified over the course of this paper acknowledge the need for citizens to cultivate the necessary civic dispositions supportive of democratic institutions. Exponents of the societal model propose that the cooperative relationships of trust, mutuality and reciprocal responsibilities generated in associational life in civil society are sufficient, in themselves, to account for the development of the necessary civic virtues. It looks to voluntary associations like churches, ethnic associations, unions, charities, cooperatives, support groups and such like as the seedbed for the virtues of mutual obligation. The understanding here is that the virtues generated within civil society will spill over into public life. In my defence of a civic model of civil society I argue that by extending the integrationist model to incorporate the democratic idea of

31 active citizenship, participation in associational life, especially in situations which call for the exercise of ‘public reasonableness’ can, in and of itself, facilitate the development of the necessary civic dispositions and capacities required for the generation of a common life as equal members of the political community.

Taking my lead from Richard Norman, I suggest that recent developments in the area of public ‘governance’, where civil society groups and voluntary associations have been included among the participants in public-political discourses, afford members of these groups, qua citizens, with additional opportunities to cultivate the relevant skills and dispositions. There is no suggestion that these structures are intended to undermine or to replace the decision-making powers of the democratically elected representative institutions of the state. Rather, the belief is that they have the potential to operate in ways that help to forge a sense of common commitment such that they can serve to underwrite democratic allegiances. At the same time the inclusion of representatives from civil society in these governance structures should not be taken to imply a form of ‘incorporation’ or the silencing of ‘critical’ voices. What is required in deliberations such as these, where solutions need to be found to practical political questions is an initial commitment on the part of participants to a process of ‘reasonable negotiations’ and an agreement to search for solutions that ‘fit’ particular circumstances.

Drawing on these arguments and applying them to the Irish situation, in particular the contribution by civil society groups and communities to policy-making discourses it is evident that the praxis falls far short of the normative ideal. Participants in public discourses – generally referred to as ‘social partnership talks’ at both national and local level have encountered a number of obstacles which serve to limit their capacity to exert meaningful influence on the proceedings. Principal among these is a difference in power which, when combined with the need to adhere to particular ‘administrative systems’, can result in certain constraints being imposed at the outset. While representatives of local groups and communities have been included in local development organisations, the emphasis at all times is on ‘good governance’ and the need to operate in accordance with pre-defined criteria with the aim of achieving specific objectives. The possibility of

32 challenging the prevailing consensus on the content of these predefined ‘ends’, proposing new solutions, or introducing more radical ideas about how society could or should be organised is severely constrained by the imposition of a form of ‘managerialism’ which is indicative of the extent to which these structures have been infiltrated by the logic of ‘administrative systems’. Much of the uncertainty which surrounds these institutional structures at local level can be attributed to an over-emphasis on the ‘functional’ criteria required for inclusion in the governance processes.

While participation in social partnership has provided representatives from the community and voluntary sector with an opportunity to voice concerns that might otherwise have been excluded, the adoption of a policy of ‘strategic consensus-building through participation’ as the operating principle in these ‘talks’ can also be used to stifle questioning by groups who might wish to challenge the prevailing status quo, or to pursue a more adversarial mode of public debate. My argument is that rather than being viewed as a problem to be overcome, contestation has the potential to bring additional dynamism to these governance procedures. The creation of a challenging and questioning environment should be considered among the essential elements conducive to the generation of a healthy public debate.

The challenge for public policy-making procedures is to recognise the civic potential of civil society activism, not just as an avenue through which the more societal understanding of citizenship can be encouraged and promoted, but as an additional venue in which the praxis of political autonomy can be realised. In this context I contend that the diversity of their composition and the plurality of their values and aims should be seen as strengths to be utilised rather than a weakness to be overcome. Before this can become a reality in Ireland, the power currently wielded by a political system that is highly centralised needs to be devolved to regional and local authorities. In turn, access to policy and decision-making procedures at both national and local level needs to be more open and inclusive.

33 Political discourse, if it is to be truly reflective of the diversity of interests and plurality of values of which civil society is composed, must be seen less as a ‘problem-solving’ exercise and more as a dynamic process where, aside from the obligation on participants to adhere to the virtues of public reasonableness and civility, the widest possible range of opinions can be advanced for consideration. In essence, power – and not simply the kind of ‘soft power’ currently granted to non-profit organisations and voluntary bodies – and the means to exercise it, must be brought closer to the people if politics is to have any real meaning in their everyday lives.

I conclude with a quotation from Adam Habib which, I believe, encapsulates the contradictory nature of the expectations generated by moves to promote civil society activism and calls for voluntary groups and communities to become involved in decision- making at local level. He writes: Many civil society activists, inspired by social democratic, radical liberal and even socialist orientations, hope that such participation would entrench the interests of citizens in public policy and as a result lead to a more socially just and human-oriented developmental agenda. State officials, on the other hand, many of whom are inspired by a new-liberal ideological orientation (Salamon, 2007), believe that such participation would facilitate greater legitimation of public decisions and more efficient and cost-effective service delivery. (Habib, 2008: 45)

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