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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).
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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
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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
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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
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
2
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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
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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
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.
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social capital, particularly in relation to developing countries where it believes it can help
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’,
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.
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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
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.
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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
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
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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.
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
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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
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
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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
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
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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,
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
16
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
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
17
propagate some feeling by the encouragement of great example, they form an
association’ (Tocqueville, 1966: 662).
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 selfrule 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.
18
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
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
19
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
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 ‘selfempowerment’ 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.
20
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
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
21
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
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 ‘civilsocial 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
22
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
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 willformation. 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
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.
6
23
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 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
24
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
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
25
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
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
26
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
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 semiautonomous 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 reestablish 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
27
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
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
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Kymlicka, justice requires that all should have the opportunity to become politically
active should they choose to do so.
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 cooperate 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.
29
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
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
30
as one in which the ‘rational’ exercise of individual autonomy is circumscribed by the
commitment to ‘public reason’ and the ‘moral duty of civility’.
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
31
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
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
32
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
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
33
policy and decision-making procedures at both national and local level needs to be more
open and inclusive.
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 decisionmaking 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)
34
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