Successes and Failures of Democratic Systems in Combatting Social and Cultural Exclusion Douglas V
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Successes and Failures of Democratic Systems in Combatting Social and Cultural Exclusion Douglas V. Porpora In a 2013 article on world millennial goal performance, The Economist magazine illustrates what Professor Pierpaolo Donati (2015a; 2015b; 2015c) calls the “lib/lab” compromise in social policy. By millennial goals, I mean the eight international Millennium Development Goals formulated during the Millennium Summit of the United Nations in 2000 and subsequently enshrined in the United Nations Millennium Declaration. These goals were extremely ambitious, including the total eradication worldwide of poverty by 2015 and the achievement of universal primary education. Although by 2015 the world had not achieved these millennial goals, progress was at least impressive. World poverty has since been halved, and primary enrollment in education has now reached 91% (UN 2015). The Economist’s response to such success was to conclude that “the world now knows how to reduce poverty” (Economist 2013). The Economist admits that poverty was reduced in part by “a lot of targeted policies – basic social safety nets and cash-transfer schemes, such as Brazil’s Bolsa Familia” (Economist 2013). Such policies are what Donati means by a lab or labor approach to social problems. The lab or labor approach employs laws; bureaucratized services; and income transfers. This lab or labor approach leaves economic conservatives uneasy, and The Economist, a conservative outlet, is no exception. It is rather a lib or liberal or neo-liberal approach that the conservatives favor. Such lib approach puts its faith in the economic market, the more unfettered the better. Thus, predictably, according to The Economist, “Most of the credit” for eradicating poverty “must go to capitalism and free trade, for they enable economies to grow – and it was growth, principally, that has eased destitution” (Economist 2013). Donati sees limitations to both the lib and lab approaches and to the limited compromise between them. In fact, he argues that the limited alternation between lib/lab tendencies is part of what hampers efforts to deal adequately with social exclusion. Thus, along with Professor Margaret Archer (see Donati and Archer 2015), Donati calls instead for more input from the third, civil sector between market and government. Although I am myself more partial to the labor side of things, I am going to draw on Donati’s lib/lab understanding as I pursue my task in this paper. That task, as indicated by my title, is to describe the successes and failures of democracies in address to social and cultural exclusion. I must admit I had to play a bit of catch-up to present this paper. I come from the United States, which was enclosed by walls even before Donald Trump. Thus, while Europe and, indeed, the rest of the world have been speaking for decades now of exclusion, outside of public health, that vocabulary is fairly unknown in the U.S. We follow more what the World Health Organization (WHO) literature review on exclusion calls the rights approach (see Matheison et al. 2008), which emphasizes rights and privileges, or disparities and inequalities. In relation to the poor specifically, we tend to speak not of exclusion but of insecurity as in food insecurity. Coming from a rights approach, we in the U.S. do not connect exclusion specifically with the poor. On the contrary, when we in the U.S. think specifically of exclusion, we tend to think more of the non-poor. We have, for example, been more preoccupied with the so-called glass ceiling on women’s advancement. In contrast with Germany and the United Kingdom, the U.S. has yet to elect a female head of state, and it is apparent from our last presidential election that there remains in the U.S. considerable uneasiness even among women with a woman in that executive position. We likewise have been preoccupied with the exclusion of gays and lesbians from the institution of marriage, which is a major way in which people participate in the social order. None of which is to say that the U.S. has no problems with what can be called “the most excluded”. The U.S. does have such problems. In fact, in comparison with many other democracies, American problems are actually worse. Because how we talk about our problems is in fact part of our problem, I will begin by briefly rehearsing the history of this term exclusion and the multidimensional understanding of poverty it implies. I will follow that with a broad look at how democracies of the southern hemisphere achieved progress in the Millennium Development Goals and the difficulties facing them going further. - 1 - Then I will look more closely at the progress combatting social and cultural exclusion made by the nations of the European Union since their joint commitment toward that end at the Lisbon Summit of March 2000. In that analysis, I will use the U.S. as a benchmark, not because I share my compatriot’s view of the U.S. as the world’s greatest democracy but because on the contrary, some of the problems show up starker in the U.S. and because accordingly some of the EU’s successes show up better by that comparison. Finally, I will return to Donati’s lib/lab framework. From that perspective, I will comment on the call to more action on the part of the civil society that constitutes the third sector. Exclusion as a Concept To address the problem of exclusion effectively, we must understand it correctly and measure it properly. Thus, how we talk about exclusion and what we mean by it is fundamental to the task. Current talk of exclusion traces back to 1974 and the French Secretary of State for Social Action, René Lenoir. Lenoir spoke of the “most excluded”, under which category he included the poor; the mentally and physically disabled; the suicidal and drug addicted; and those otherwise marginalized. It was a time when France was preoccupied with the problem of full employment, and Lenoir’s classification evoked the concern of French sociologist Emile Durkheim for social integration (Matheison et al. 2008). Exclusion was quickly picked up throughout Europe, somewhat displacing references to poverty. From there, the framework of exclusion was adopted by the International Labor Organization (ILO) and subsequently by the World Bank, the World Health Organization (WHO), and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD). What accounts for the rapid appeal of exclusion as a socio-political category? A variety of explanations have been offered, some critical of the term (Beall 2002; Gore and Figueiredo 1997; Veit-Wilson 1998) and some appreciative (e.g., Estivill 2003). The critics charge that exclusion is a neo-liberal attempt to depoliticize poverty. The more appreciative commentators suggest that exclusion is less stigmatizing and less provocative than references to poverty and also that exclusion opens up analysis to a more causal orientation that is multidimensional in nature. Exclusion on this view is not just economic but social and cultural as well. Silver (1994) perhaps has the right of it in observing that part of exclusion’s appeal is that it is polysemic, taking on different meanings for different users, especially across the lib/lab spectrum. On the liberal or neo- liberal side, going back to Lenoir’s original Durkheimian understanding, there is what Silver calls the Solidarity paradigm. This paradigm views exclusion as a “breakdown of a social bond between the individual and society that is cultural and moral rather than economic” (Mathieson et al. 2008: 17). Also called the moral underclass discourse by Levitas (2005), this perspective ends up laying the blame for exclusion either on the individual excluded agents themselves, who lack the moral gumption to do what is necessary to participate appropriately, or on their culture, which fails to pass on participatory norms to succeeding generations. The latter view, which American sociologists call Culture of Poverty Theory, is very prevalent in the United States but has also been picked up in Europe, as by the Tories in the U.K. (Levitas 2005). On the other side of the divide, exclusion can fit into a labor framework via what Levitas (2005) calls the redistributionist discourse. This perspective counterpoises exclusion to full citizenship, understanding exclusion either as a discriminatory denial of rights or, as Sen (2000) puts it, an unintended consequence of social dynamics or policies. To fully distinguish the lib/lab understandings here, it is helpful to draw on Professor Margaret Archer’s (2013) acronym SAC – which stands for structure, agency, and culture. In much contemporary sociology, these three categories have collapsed into each other, with structure being swallowed by culture, and culture, reinterpreted as practice, being swallowed up thereby into agency (Porpora 2015). The result is the loss of crucial distinctions. Against this current, Archer has defended a pair of analytical dualisms, distinguishing agency first from structure and then from culture. On Archer’s (1996) view, culture refers to intelligibilia, or to what can be interpreted. It is that to which Max Weber applied the term Verstehen and which Anglophone philosophy distinguishes as requiring understanding rather than explanation. Included in this category are our intersubjective experiences, namely, shared values, beliefs, norms, and rules. Structure, on the other hand, refers not to what we necessarily experience but to the relations that organize our collective life – gender and class relations, for example, or the division of labor. In contrast with the intelligibilia that comprise culture, structural relations are more objective or material in that they often can exist even without anyone’s notice. Agency, as the actions of specific human actors, is always - 2 - culturally informed and social structurally positioned but is analytically distinct from both structural and cultural contexts.