Democratic Faith

The American political reformer Herbert Croly wrote, "For better or worse, democracy cannot be disentangled from an aspiration toward human perfectibility." Democratic Faith is at once a trenchant analysis and a powerful critique of this underlying assumption that informs democratic theory. Patrick Deneen argues that among democracy's most ardent supporters there is an oft-expressed belief in the need to "transform" human beings in order to reconcile the sometimes disappointing reality of human self-interest with the democratic ideal of selfless commitment. This "transformative impulse" is frequently couched in religious language, such as the need for political "redemption." This is all the more striking given the frequent accompanying condemnation of traditional religious belief that informs the "democratic faith.? At the same time, because so often this democratic ideal fails to materialize, democratic faith is often subject to a particularly intense form of disappointment. A mutually reinforcing cycle of faith and disillusionment is frequently exhibited by those who profess a democratic faith--in effect imperiling democratic commitments due to the cynicism of its most fervent erstwhile supporters. Deneen argues that democracy is ill-served by such faith. Instead, he proposes a form of "democratic realism" that recognizes democracy not as a regime with aspirations to perfection, but that justifies democracy as the regime most appropriate for imperfect humans. If democratic faith aspires to transformation, democratic realism insists on the central importance of humility, hope, and charity.

Over the past fifteen years, associations throughout the U.S. have organized citizens around issues of equality and social justice, often through local churches. But in contrast to President Bush's vision of faith-based activism, in which groups deliver social services to the needy, these associations do something greater. Drawing on institutions of faith, they reshape public policies that neglect the disadvantaged. To find out how this faith-based form of community organizing succeeds, Richard L. Wood spent several years working with two local groups in Oakland, California—the faith-based Pacific Institute for Community Organization and the race-based Center for Third World Organizing. Comparing their activist techniques and achievements, Wood argues that the alternative cultures and strategies of these two groups give them radically different access to community ties and social capital. Creative and insightful, Faith in Action shows how community activism and religious organizations can help build a more just and democratic future for all Americans.

Can the citizens of a democracy be trusted to run it properly? Modern political science has concentrated on cataloguing voters’ failings—their lack of knowledge, tolerance, or consistency in political thinking. While it would be a mistake to think this portrait of citizens is simply wrong, it is a deeper mistake to accept it as a satisfactory likeness. In this book, Paul Sniderman demonstrates that a concentration on the pathologies of citizens’ political thinking has obscured the intense clash of opposing belief systems in the electorate. He shows how a concentration on racism has distorted understanding of the politics of race by keeping out of sight those who think well of black Americans. And he exposes the fallacy of spotlighting the dangers of mass politics while ignoring those of elite politics.

In June 1962, a group calling themselves the Students for a Democratic Society gathered at a retreat in rural Michigan to discuss and revise their founding manifesto. The result of that meeting was the famous Port Huron Statement, a document that not only reflected their disenchantment with America's elite-controlled social and political institutions but also called for the creation of a "participatory democracy" in which all citizens engage in public life and share the responsibility of political decision making. This demand for participatory democracy characterized the New Left ethos and captured the imagination of a generation of radicals and political activists from the late 1950s to the close of the 1960s. So, why did participatory democracy fail to materialize in any recognizable form? Why was it forced to retreat from mainstream public discourse into the academy? Its fate, political scientist Robert Lacey asserts, was determined in large part by its intellectual origins. The idea of participatory democracy germinated in the philosophy of Charles Sanders Peirce and William James, founders of American pragmatism, and fully blossomed in the work of John Dewey, who argued that democracy should (and could) be a "way of life" for every person. Dewey rested his democratic faith on three pragmatist tenets: truth is probabilistic and socially determined; humans are malleable and educable; and humans, endowed with free will, can act collectively for their individual and social betterment. When the realities of modern life in the mid- to late-twentieth century posed serious challenges to these tenets, the very foundation of participatory democratic thought began to crumble. Yet, willfully disregarding the rubble, C. Wright Mills, Sheldon Wolin, Benjamin Barber, and other theorists have continued to support participatory democracy as a viable political idea. Today's participatory democrats have constructed a fragile theoretical enterprise that rests on questionable assumptions inherited from the pragmatist tradition about truth, human nature, and free will. Tracing the history of a salient idea in American political thought, Lacey elucidates the assumptions underlying participatory democracy, assesses both its usefulness and coherence, and ultimately reveals it to be less a theory than a faith--a faith that has largely failed to follow through on its promise.

No American denomination identified itself more closely with the nation's democratic ideal than the Baptists. Most antebellum southern Baptist churches allowed women and slaves to vote on membership matters and preferred populists preachers who addressed their appeals to the common person. Paradoxically no denomination could wield religious authority as zealously as the Baptists. Between 1785 and 1860 they ritually excommunicated forty to fifty thousand church members in Georgia alone. Wills demonstrates how a denomination of freedom-loving individualists came to embrace an exclusivist spirituality--a spirituality that continues to shape Southern Baptist churches in contemporary conflicts between moderates who urge tolerance and conservatives who require belief in scriptural inerrancy. Wills's analysis advances our understanding of the interaction between democracy and religious authority, and will appeal to scholars of American religion, culture, and history, as well as to Baptist observers.

Dewey and Power develops out of criticism that John Dewey’s work lacks a sufficient concept of power, thus rendering his faith in an amelioristic sense of experience and a democratic ideal untenable. According to philosopher Cornel West, Dewey gives ameliorism its most mature social, political, and ethical justification. Alan Ryan suggests that Dewey represented “thinking America” at its best. Dewey’s critics maintain, however, that this best is not good enough. If their criticism of Dewey goes unchallenged, one of the most intelligent, philosophically consistent visions of ethical behavior in a world shot through with difference, risk, danger, and change becomes damned. The upshot is lost faith in the idea that the give and take of mutual reference and pooled intelligence can lead to ever wider points of contact with each other that will enrich the significance of our individual quests together. Furthermore, lost faith in ameliorism and democracy implies a lost faith in a democratic education. The purpose of Dewey and Power, therefore, is to explore the diverse critiques of his alleged insufficient concept of power and to represent Dewey’s work in a way that his critics’ claims can be evaluated. The key word here is evaluate. The book is not a simple apology for Dewey’s position on these matters. First, the book works out Dewey’s concept of power as it comes out of his understanding of the psycho-physiological makeup of the human organism. Then the analysis of power as it is psycho-physiologically interpreted is extended to incorporate Dewey’s ontological insights, especially that of the directing influence of social custom on habit. This process unveils a concept of power that includes both domination and liberation. Furthermore, the relation between Dewey’s sense of power and his faith in a democratic ideal is drawn out in explicit detail. Next, the book provides a full delineation of Dewey’s critics’ claims and measures the worth of these claims in light of what the preceding examination suggests in reference to Dewey’s idea of power. This analysis makes clear that Dewey understood that power can be as productively oppressive as it can be productively liberating. Finally, the book traces out why Dewey’s concept of power can be deployed in the construction of a critical, democratic education.

What is the place of faith in public life in the UK? Beyond ‘secularism’ that seeks to relegate faith to the margins of public life, and a ‘Christian nation’ position that seeks to retain, or even regain, Christian public privilege, there is a third way. Faith in Democracy: Framing a Politics of Deep Diversity calls for an approach that maximises public space for the expression of faith-based visions within democratic fora while repudiating all traces of religious privilege. It argues for a truly conversational space, reflecting theologically on the contested concepts at the heart of the current debate about the place of faith in British public life: democracy, secularism, pluralism and public faith.

This book explores the spiritual potential of faith, mysticism and transcendence in answer to the dangers of a mythologised state and the sacro-sanctification of (liberal) democracy and its rule of law. It searches for a curative for the pathological transformation of these institutions into – so called – political religions. Along this line, it explores the importance of spirituality and transcendence for political legitimacy, democratic participation and international cooperation, law and politics. There being no general agreed-upon definition of ‘spirituality’, the authors examine what may be seen as ‘spiritual’ dimensions of the political. These dimensions have in common a focus on transcendence as a vanishing point of rationality and rational justification. This vanishing point may become manifest, for example, in a primordial requisite of becoming an individual person; in responding – in freedom – to the call of theocracy; in the phenomenon of prophecy or political wisdom; in the remaining shards of formerly all-pervasive religious institutions; in tenacious hope for a democracy-to-come; in the courageous resilience and resistance of citizens of ‘non-’ or ‘un-democratic’ states; etc. The authors of this book, philosophers, theologians, psychologists, jurists and others, are more or less suspicious of the Modern theories of the social contract allegedly justifying democracy. It may turn out, however, that the inexhaustive and unfathomable dimension of ‘faith’ which comes up as an alternative is not so easy to handle as a ‘rational argument’. This ‘impracticality’ of faith and transcendence might be the irreducible yet indispensable predicament of democracy.