4
police invaded and destroyed the local Occupy encampment during the dead of night. By the
next morning,
this space, which had fostered an ongoing experiment in participatory democracy,
had been cleared with little evidence of what had been remaining. Our experiment in democracy
was crushed by our democratic government. Especially when understood from a historical
perspective as the continuation of a long-standing practice of democratic governments repressing
democratic social movements, one begins to wonder: “If
this is democracy, then why exactly are
we fighting for ‘more’ of this?” The simple answer is that we are not.
The manifold social movements that have emerged over the past decade or do not want
more
democracy, they want
different
democracy. When we chant in the streets “This is what
democracy looks like!” we are proposing not more of the same,
but rather new ways of
conceiving and practicing democracy. Indeed, many contemporary social movements – in
Argentina, Greece, Mexico, Spain, and the United States – mobilize democratic ideals and
practices against democratic states. Indeed, the primary normative basis for these popular
critiques of democratic governments is the democratic ideal itself: the notion that people should
have the power to shape their own lives and to participate in decisions that affect them. To put
this more bluntly, they – we – use democracy as a weapon
against
democracy.
We pit
democracy against the democratic state. It is this ambivalence about democracy – that we both
love it and hate it – that motivates this project. How might we rethink, reimagine, and
reinvigorate democracy so that the reality more closely matches the ideal?
This question, however, is made more difficult by the ambiguity of the concept of
democracy itself.
As I have suggested, democracy, broadly understood, has never before
attained the global supremacy that it enjoys today. And yet, at the same time, the usage of the
term democracy has perhaps never been so vacuous, so bereft of meaning. In Brown’s (2010)
5
articulation, “Democracy has historically unparalleled global popularity yet has never been more
conceptually footloose or substantively hollow.” People who have fundamental
disagreements
about politics, nonetheless, seem to share a commitment to democracy, though they clearly have
distinct understandings of the concept. The 2003 U.S.-led invasion and occupation of Iraq was
launched in
the name of democracy, at the same time that millions of people around the world
protested the war in the name of democracy. In this sense, democracy has become an “empty
signifier” (Brown 2010), a common term that masks fundamentally different views of its
meaning and, as such, that glosses over radically divergent visions of democracy. Though both
former President George W. Bush and anti-war demonstrators used the term ‘democracy,’ they
did not mean the same thing by it. The political consequence of this is that democracy has
become, at best, an unhelpful term with
little substantive meaning, divorced from its radical and
transformative potential; at worst, democracy has developed into a way of legitimating (and
diffusing resistance to) war abroad, repression at home and neoliberal austerity everywhere. As
such, the project of reinvigorating democracy must be both critical and visionary. It must
explain the ambiguity of the term democracy – an ambiguity that justifiably generates doubt
about the democratic project as such. In the following section, I explain
the nature of this
ambiguity by outlining several competing conceptualizations of democracy. In doing so, it
becomes possible to distinguish precisely the kinds of democracy that contemporary social
movements and their defenders should want more (and less) of.
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