The Dangers of Walzer

Michael Walzer’s Moral Minimalism seems to make a series of assumptions are not only unacceptable from a social/political science point of view, but are dangerous when applied to any theories about current or past events. In particular, when he discusses his maximal meaning of morals we see him speak in generalities about the universal meanings about the signs that were being paraded through Prague or the general understanding about the immorality of totalitarian regimes, he seems to be speaking on behalf of all people everywhere across every time in a way that is blatantly overstepping his bounds as a political scientist. His evidence for the Prague demonstration is “What they meant by the ‘justice’ inscribed on their signs, however, was simple enough: an end to arbitrary arrests, equal and impartial law enforcement, the abolition of the privileges and prerogatives of the party elite -common, garden variety justice” (Walzer, 2). However, he gives himself room to maneuver when he says that their actual understandings of “justice” may be different. In this way, he is saying that there is a universal meaning based on a shared set of morals, but there is no way to pin down exactly what that meaning is. This is similar to Fukuyama’s “End of History” thesis where the author states that we are coming to the end of history and that there are no new ideas, but at the same time, he does not say when the end of history and some great convergence will actually occur.

On a more personal, and albeit biased, note, the idea of universal morals does not make sense to me as a whole. Even such fundamental moral rules in Western culture such as not taking the life of another human being (which Walzer addresses) are not a universal moral by which all humans abide as there are plenty of instances of ritual sacrifices or the killing of newborns that are part of the culture of other societies. With cases like these, the idea of a universal moral that we all understand is difficult to reconcile.

Practicality: A Second Best Solution

As difficult as it is for me to reconcile this with the painful memories of individuals, groups, and entire nations, I believe that the preservation of the democratic system is most important in these fragile transitions to democracy. Obviously, with the examples we’ve seen in class, whether it’s Pinochet’s lifetime appointment to the Senate or survivors seeing their torturers on the street, these are personal, emotional, and painful individual experiences that no person should ever have to endure. People might make the argument that if the country has moved into a democracy and the majority of citizens feel that these torturers and murderers should be prosecuted, then the will of the people should reign. However, the issue here is that most of these states are in a quasi-democratic period where democracy is extremely fragile, and the threat of military intervention still looms over the nation. In these cases, any legal action taken against the former regime could result in the collapse of the current system and the reinstatement of the old.

As a result of this threat, I find the best course of action to be encapsulated in the quotation, “Neither amnesia nor vengeance—justice!” In this case, as we discussed in class, justice is never forgetting; justice is truth. Truth about the horrors of the old regime, truth about the state-sponsored violence that was once accepted, truth about every individual involved in these heinous crimes, truth like in Brasil: Nunca Mais. Survivors can find solace in having the world know their stories and they can be hopeful that this remembrance will ensure that it truly does not ever happen again. This is by no means the best solution for survivors, but if democracy is the second-best solution, then, for better or for worse, sometimes we have to forego the moral in favor of the practical to ensure the health and prosperity of democracy.

Preconceived Democracy

My main issue with the film Please Vote for Me, rests in the fact that while the film is set up to be a portrayal of what happens when you give children a chance at democracy and whether or not we can draw parallels to adults in democratic government, the children’s actions within this democratic framework are heavily influenced by their parents. Throughout the film there are countless instances of the parents of our three candidates influencing both their thoughts and their actions. For example, the debate between Luo Lei and Cheng Cheng was so rehearsed with the parents that the viewer essentially could have told you what each candidate was going to say before the debate began, including Luo Lei setting Cheng Cheng up to be a liar, and Cheng Cheng’s use of the term “dictator” to define his opponent. There’s also the issue of Luo Lei attempting to buy his classmates’ votes by bringing them on the train ride and giving out prizes at the end of his final speech—both of which show the influence of his parents more than himself. So, in my opinion, the arguments, tactics, and rhetoric we saw in the film were not an accurate depiction of what would happen if we handed democracy to a group that was unfamiliar with it, since there was unquantifiable influence from parents.

However, I still believe that we can gain some insights about democracy from the film. Things like the intimidation/bullying of Xiaofei, bribery by Luo Lei, and deceit, manipulation, and caustic rhetoric by Cheng Cheng all seem to fit our contemporary expectations of democracy. This is because the parents, whose preconceptions about democracy are influencing their children, see these traits as being characteristic of democracy and necessary in order to win. So, it’s not that this classroom is “democracy in action” so much as it is adult preconceptions about democracy being projected onto these children.

‘Lerning’ from the Grocer

There are two issues that I take with Lerner’s interpretation of the intricacies of social life in Balgat. Firstly, speaking to his methodology, it was very clear that Lerner came into his observations with a bias—wanting to paint the grocer as his hero. He talks about one of the “wiser heads” speaking, “the words I was seeking” when the man calls the grocer, “the cleverest of us all” (Lerner, 56). This blatant admittance of preference casts doubts over the entire picture we have just watched Lerner pain for us. However, perhaps the underlying issue of his bias stems from his assumptions about the nature of progress. Lerner portrays the Grocer as a prophet, years ahead of his time, embracing the lifestyle of urban Ankara and attempting to incorporate elements of the more industrial society, like neckties and commercial goods, into the more traditional Balgat life. Lerner glorifies this way of life, asking, “What would happen next in Balgat if more people discovered the tingle of wondering what will happen next?” (Lerner, 51). It is clear that Lerner sees commercialism, public transportation, urban labor, and new technology as “progress” in society, and so he takes the Grocer, the only one in society brave enough to embrace these developments, as a revolutionary and a hero.

However, this progress came at a great cost, namely conformity to Ankara to the point where Balgat is scheduled to be swallowed up into the greater Ankara region. This will undoubtedly mark a great loss of tradition and identity for the Balgati people as they are now being forced to embrace everything that urbanization brings with it. Perhaps, then, this is not so much progress, but conformity. Perhaps this loss of tradition is more detrimental than the positive effects of embracing Ankara. Perhaps Lerner’s assumptions about change and progress being admirable are misguided, and blind him to the societal harms that might be inflicted on the Balgati with such rapid and compulsory change.

Journalism Masking as Science

The claim that a group of people are “dying of broken hearts” is a challenge to fathom, let alone empirically prove. However, Masha Gessen tries to do so for the reader by using the language of scientific and cultural reasoning, though her conclusion becomes more like sensationalist journalism. She begins her piece on what appears to be a strong, ethnographic footing as she briefly describes her research, presents anecdotal evidence, and goes on to cite Michelle Parson’s anthropological work Dying Unneeded to discuss the merits and the limitations of it. These are two promising steps in her search for the “answer” to her opening quandary about high Russian mortality rates, since both focus on a kind of thick description, and particularly in the case of Parson’s work, a Geertzian method of deeply embedding oneself in the culture in question.

In my opinion, Gessen starts to stray when she switches to a strong reliance on statistical evidence which she uses to rule out causes like drinking, smoking, environmental issues, and economic upheavals as the cause of death. However, she lacks any empirical data supporting her “broken heart” theory. She concludes her piece by abandon the cultural and rational methods of study she attempted to employ earlier and delves head first into sensationalist journalism when she presents this unsubstantiated, broad-base claim that the reason that all Russians are dying so young and so frequently is attributable solely to “broken hearts.”

This piece lacks the plethora of evidence needed to convince any reader that the root cause is broken hearts. For a claim such as this, a cultural approach with support from rational-choice methodology, as Gessen started to present, seems best to study the problem at hand. However, unlike Gessen’s, the work should richer, more nuanced, and focus in on the people, similar to how Gressen describes Parson’s work.

Two Sides to Every Story

George Orwell’s Shooting an Elephant allows us the opportunity to witness the thoughts of the dominator as he interacts with those he dominates. James Scott would refer to what we read as Orwell’s hidden transcript; we got to see both how he acted as a British officer doing his job, and also how he truly felt, as he shot the elephant simply to avoid being made look like a fool in front of the Burmese. Naturally, seeing Orwell’s hidden transcript readers might sympathize with how he felt powerless with the gun in his hand, and how “two thousand wills” seemed to be exerting a force over him that drove him to act (Orwell, 3). However, if we actually consider the role of the Burmese in this power dynamic, this is not the case.

Consider two less important characters: the elephant owner and the elephant’s victim. The owner, according to Orwell, “was furious, but he was only an Indian and could do nothing” (Orwell, 4). His ability to seek legal retribution was nonexistent because of his race. By not allowing the elephant owner to air his grievances, we see Gaventa’s second dimension of power where the powerful control by setting the agenda. Furthermore, some of Orwell’s peers declared that it was a “damn shame to shoot an elephant for killing a coolie,” suggesting that the native victim was less than equal in his oppressors’ eyes (Orwell, 4). Thus, while Orwell’s narrative is compelling in demonstrating the power of the oppressed over the oppressor, their titles are still just that, and in most every place in this colonial society, it is the English oppressor who has power over the natives.

Unsung Heroes

In Against Schools, Gatto asserts that the United States public-school system has systematically, “encouraged students not to think at all” (Gatto, 37). As the product of twelve years of public schooling, I can partially attest to this. The meritocracy of public schools is structured such that the “smart,” “successful,” “most-likely-to-succeed” students are the ones with the highest GPAs. Unfortunately for society, a high GPA is more a measure of conformity than intellect. Those individuals who strive for high GPAs often must take specific classes, learn material to prepare for test rather than to understand, and learn to memorize instead of thoughtfully analyze. It is no wonder that these “successful” individuals lose the capacity to think for themselves.

However, there are those individuals who preserve the, “curiosity, adventure, resilience, and capacity for surprising insights” (Gatto, 34). They are the individuals who love learning for learning’s sake, who explore what they love outside of the classroom, and who would never sacrifice their intellectual enrichment for the sake of a grade. So, while I agree with Gatto that our schools are not set up in a way to encourage students to think for themselves, such students do exist in the current system.

Gatto also falters when discussing the complicity of our teachers in this meritocracy. Every school will have some teachers who have little interest in their subjects, but what Gatto fails to mention are those teachers – the heroes of our system – who possess a passion for both their subject and their students. Those teachers who inspire a love of learning and help them combat the classroom’s endemic boredom are the reason that, despite some glaring flaws, I have great hope in our educational system’s ability to produce the next generation of thoughtful, curious, and resilient leaders.