In comparison to Fukuyama’s end of history theory, I find it difficult to falsify the “unversal-made-particular” theory put forth by Michael Walzer. Both theories ignore, and supersede the question of “when” or under what circumstances these things will happen in society. Fukuyama’s argument remains debatable until there is somehow a way to prove that ideological struggle no longer exists–this seems near-impossible to me. Walzer’s theory also escapes any limit of time. He argues that “unless we can identify a neutral starting point from which many different and possibly legitimate moral cultures might develop, we can’t construct a proceduralist minimum.” Certain values like “truth” or “justice” have no identifiable conception or expiration date for Walzer and, rather, are universally understood (though they are implemented on a case-by-case basis). Both these claims function on the basis that we simply haven’t reached a point in time when we are able to disprove them. They resonate equally with me, and I am convinced that they are true. However, I am skeptical that either of them could yet (or ever) be disproven with concrete examples, which for me, undermines the legitimacy of the theories as compared to others that might be more debatable.

Moral and practical solutions to a legacy of violence do not have to be mutually exclusive, though it has been common throughout history that the practical prevails. The “end of the story” in Uruguay or installment of Pinochet as senator after his role as dictator in Chile ended are examples of immoral, and at best, only slightly practical solutions. Despite a concerted effort to reinstate democracy as a replacement for violence, the case of Chile reflects a weak attempt to resolve the emotional and moral legacy left behind by Pinochet. It may be impossible to find a balance between the moral and the practical that is agreed upon by all constituents, but practical solutions may be more conducive to stable democracies, which avoid the risk of repeating past abuses (to the same extent). Practical solutions have the potential to take into account a variety of opinions about how to bring perpetrators of abuse to justice. However, those institutions and practices must also make sure that perpetrators are not a part of the decision-making process. Practical solutions can also be moral (to an extent) if they ensure that perpetrators do not have access to any mechanisms of coercion or abuse. Furthermore, they can ensure that a cycle of abuses is not repeated by creating checks against retaliatory solutions that might be supported by some members of the public, and instead, in the long-run, trending towards an equilibrium of justice and understanding.

Please Vote for Me shows the perils of unguided, unregulated, and unsupported democracy. To begin with, there was obviously a large potential for confusion and failure given the elementary school classroom setting. The teacher provides the class with the simple and seemingly fair task of electing a classroom leader from a choice of three classmates, but does not do enough to manage the ensuing potential for conflict. The election process turns into a chaotic battle for who can undermine his or her opponent the most, rather than a measurement of classroom leadership principles. To use Toqueville, it is seems that the democracy experiment does not work because the values and morals of democracy have not yet been internalized by society’s members, therefore not allowing for a full-functioning democratic system. The teacher’s attempt to hold elections, and install a democratic system was bound to fail. Dahl might argue, according to his many principles, that the methods of participation were undemocratic. For example, Xioafei is shouted down by her classmates before even getting a chance to perform. Not all candidates had the same opportunity to participate and speak to their constituents, and some faced more challenging obstacles than others. Finally, Luo Lei wins by essentially bribing his constituents. As adult voters might be swayed by bribery with money, this elementary school classroom is easily swayed by the appeal of the holiday cards, and elects the most authoritarian candidate. Multiple stages of the election process were undermined by unfair and immoral tactics, therefore collapsing the foundations of an already weak and unsupported system of democracy.

Lerner’s description of Balgat changing over time, as well as the conclusions he draws about the “positive” effects that modernity seems to have had on the village, suggests Lerner’s belief in a universal definition of progress. For Lerner, “progress” is inextricably tied to technological improvements, and a movement towards industrialization. When he returns to Balgat, he is excited by the emergence of public transportation, and more technical jobs, which have replaced farming. This replacement of farming, however, has noticeable consequences on villagers’ employment. Lerner does not explore the possibility that the majority of people in Balgat may have been content without these changes. However, he also offers evidence of many villagers’ willingness to accept change. The last Muhtar says that he is “happy” to have seen Balgat “end its history in this way that we are going” (55). The Muhtar, in addition to the Chief and his two sons, provide examples of people who seem to have accepted their position of passivity in a world changing around them. The Chief in particular expresses great resiliency in the face of modernization and hope for his posterity. Nonetheless, Lerner’s selection of these details, personal accounts, and reactions all point to an effort to paint modernization in a universally positive light. “Progress”, for Lerner, is a departure from manual labor, and lack of technology, and an embrace of technological “improvement.”

Gessen’s piece begins with what feels like random anecdotal evidence for a rising mortality rate. She anthropological and sociological evidence in the first few pages as an introduction to her claim that more and more Russians are dying. Gessen jumps from the “unstructured interviews” conducted by Michelle Parsons to broad historical trends to economic conditions, all as possibilities for the cause of what seems like increased death rates in Russian. Her use of a great number and variety of possible causes does not make up for the fact that they are quite possibly unrelated. In other words, attempting to link together cultural, institutional, and historical arguments is not an effective method to summarize a specific trend that occurred over a vast number of years, specifically in the case of the Russian deaths. This becomes obvious in the latter half of the book review, when Gessen provides empirical facts about the deaths that occurred during times of famine, war, and emigration. While these periods of time had distinct, determinable causes of deaths, others did not. But this is not to say that they can or should only be explained by sociological or circumstantial evidence. Number of deaths and mortality rates are undeniably quantifiable statistics. We have records that keep track of the number of deaths, people’s age and cause of death, etc. Yes, Russia certainly has a distinct history and culture that has led its population to certain unique points of despair or hope that may or may not link to death rates; however, this is not to say that we should turn to sociological methods only as an explanation for scientific occurrences.

While there are countless flawed elements of schooling, I do not think that every school’s goal is to sort, rank, and eventually eliminate the “unfit.” Schooling’s purpose is not to turn children into “servants.” A person who graduates high school is a person better enabled and equipped for the demands of a meritocratic society. In America, where it is increasingly necessary to have high level degrees in order to reach a position of success, schooling is a threshold that people must cross in order to have access to that opportunity, not to become subservient.

In a vacuum, a meritocracy is a fair system that can be accessible to everyone, but this is obviously not the case. Gatto ignores in his argument the political and social conditions that prevent people from even reaching, or staying at the high school level in the first place. For example, the quality of public education being largely dependent on income-levels in that district. This factor, as one example, shows that the problem with education-based meritocracy is not solely that it ranks and sorts people, but that some people are prematurely and unfairly set up to be ranked and sorted lower.

Gatto’s argument does not apply to the Williams education. Yes, there are political and financial obstacles for many people already at Williams, but that does not prove Gatto’s point that schooling equals submitting to an unfair system of ranking. To reiterate: an education at Williams, as a piece of the meritocratic system, would make sense and be fair if not for political and social factors outside of education that predetermine people’s ability to reach success.