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Daily news & progressive opinion—funded by the people, not the corporations—delivered straight to your inbox.
Here we are, one week before the election, in the midst of electoral fatigue. Most citizens feel a deep cynicism about the candidates and the federal government.
Our federal electoral and governing systems have proven themselves inept at creating solutions that work to solve complex problems, leading many people to become disengaged, disgusted and even disenfranchised. What hope is there for democracy in all this?
One answer is to take a page from the slow food and locavore movements, and start local. Not everyone can make change at the national level, but most of us can in our neighborhoods. What if we decided to turn our attention to our local places rather than shout at, or into, the din of national politics? Not instead of the presidential election, but as a necessary complement: an untapped sphere of possibility for democratic practice?
We propose Slow Democracy. We recognize that the term is its own punch line: isn't government agonizingly slow already? Joking aside, our democracy has much to learn from the paradigm shift of the various "slow" movements. Instead of seeing politics as the exclusive province of Washington, we should focus on the democratic possibilities in the neighborhoods and towns right where we live. Local communities have the ability to address fundamental issues and create real change. Many of them have already done so.
How do they do it? We've looked at communities around the country where this approach to decision-making is thriving, and we've identified four key elements of a truly 'slow' democracy:
These aren't abstract concepts to anyone, nor are they relegated to the halls of academia. Communities around the country -- from the neighborhoods of Chicago to the town halls of New England -- are at the cutting edge of these very basic principles of self-governance. These communities aren't thinking about paradigm shifts: they are trying to solve real problems by using their community assets. But what they are doing is slow democracy. For example:
Slow Democracy means that there can be a range of regional democratic practices. What works in New England may not work in Oregon, and what works in Chicago may fall short in Austin. Slow democracy celebrates the terroir of community process.
When Alexis de Tocqueville came to the United States in 1831 to write Democracy in America, he commented on those regional differences. But he was even more struck by the commonality of American culture: the "political activity that pervades the United States [which] must be seen in order to be understood. " If he were to land at JFK today, he would be astonished by how, for many Americans, political engagement has diminished to the act of walking into a booth and pushing a button.
It is telling that Tocqueville identified the source of the United States' democratic strength as local government. "Municipal institutions constitute the strength of free nations," he wrote. "A nation may establish a system of free government, but without the spirit of municipal institutions it cannot have the spirit of liberty." With Slow Democracy, we propose strengthening those local democratic practices.
It's not that all decisions should be made locally, all the time. Some decisions should be made at the national level, especially when it comes to upholding basic rights: we think of civil rights, many environmental laws, and public health as key examples. Relying on far-off elected officials to make decisions for us is an integral part of the American system. But it is also true that many decisions that rightfully belong at the local level have been exported. Privatization, centralization, and the hyper-marketing of the individual have all served to further undermine our communities, resulting in more concentrated, centralized power -- and a public that has become, understandably, disengaged.
In the ongoing American balancing act between our national government and the citizens themselves, the pendulum has swung too far from the local.
Slow Democracy's goal is two-fold: to expand the power of those places where democracy is most vital, and to swing the pendulum back by providing citizens with the tools to govern themselves in the most inclusive, democratic, empowered, and effective ways possible.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Here we are, one week before the election, in the midst of electoral fatigue. Most citizens feel a deep cynicism about the candidates and the federal government.
Our federal electoral and governing systems have proven themselves inept at creating solutions that work to solve complex problems, leading many people to become disengaged, disgusted and even disenfranchised. What hope is there for democracy in all this?
One answer is to take a page from the slow food and locavore movements, and start local. Not everyone can make change at the national level, but most of us can in our neighborhoods. What if we decided to turn our attention to our local places rather than shout at, or into, the din of national politics? Not instead of the presidential election, but as a necessary complement: an untapped sphere of possibility for democratic practice?
We propose Slow Democracy. We recognize that the term is its own punch line: isn't government agonizingly slow already? Joking aside, our democracy has much to learn from the paradigm shift of the various "slow" movements. Instead of seeing politics as the exclusive province of Washington, we should focus on the democratic possibilities in the neighborhoods and towns right where we live. Local communities have the ability to address fundamental issues and create real change. Many of them have already done so.
How do they do it? We've looked at communities around the country where this approach to decision-making is thriving, and we've identified four key elements of a truly 'slow' democracy:
These aren't abstract concepts to anyone, nor are they relegated to the halls of academia. Communities around the country -- from the neighborhoods of Chicago to the town halls of New England -- are at the cutting edge of these very basic principles of self-governance. These communities aren't thinking about paradigm shifts: they are trying to solve real problems by using their community assets. But what they are doing is slow democracy. For example:
Slow Democracy means that there can be a range of regional democratic practices. What works in New England may not work in Oregon, and what works in Chicago may fall short in Austin. Slow democracy celebrates the terroir of community process.
When Alexis de Tocqueville came to the United States in 1831 to write Democracy in America, he commented on those regional differences. But he was even more struck by the commonality of American culture: the "political activity that pervades the United States [which] must be seen in order to be understood. " If he were to land at JFK today, he would be astonished by how, for many Americans, political engagement has diminished to the act of walking into a booth and pushing a button.
It is telling that Tocqueville identified the source of the United States' democratic strength as local government. "Municipal institutions constitute the strength of free nations," he wrote. "A nation may establish a system of free government, but without the spirit of municipal institutions it cannot have the spirit of liberty." With Slow Democracy, we propose strengthening those local democratic practices.
It's not that all decisions should be made locally, all the time. Some decisions should be made at the national level, especially when it comes to upholding basic rights: we think of civil rights, many environmental laws, and public health as key examples. Relying on far-off elected officials to make decisions for us is an integral part of the American system. But it is also true that many decisions that rightfully belong at the local level have been exported. Privatization, centralization, and the hyper-marketing of the individual have all served to further undermine our communities, resulting in more concentrated, centralized power -- and a public that has become, understandably, disengaged.
In the ongoing American balancing act between our national government and the citizens themselves, the pendulum has swung too far from the local.
Slow Democracy's goal is two-fold: to expand the power of those places where democracy is most vital, and to swing the pendulum back by providing citizens with the tools to govern themselves in the most inclusive, democratic, empowered, and effective ways possible.
Here we are, one week before the election, in the midst of electoral fatigue. Most citizens feel a deep cynicism about the candidates and the federal government.
Our federal electoral and governing systems have proven themselves inept at creating solutions that work to solve complex problems, leading many people to become disengaged, disgusted and even disenfranchised. What hope is there for democracy in all this?
One answer is to take a page from the slow food and locavore movements, and start local. Not everyone can make change at the national level, but most of us can in our neighborhoods. What if we decided to turn our attention to our local places rather than shout at, or into, the din of national politics? Not instead of the presidential election, but as a necessary complement: an untapped sphere of possibility for democratic practice?
We propose Slow Democracy. We recognize that the term is its own punch line: isn't government agonizingly slow already? Joking aside, our democracy has much to learn from the paradigm shift of the various "slow" movements. Instead of seeing politics as the exclusive province of Washington, we should focus on the democratic possibilities in the neighborhoods and towns right where we live. Local communities have the ability to address fundamental issues and create real change. Many of them have already done so.
How do they do it? We've looked at communities around the country where this approach to decision-making is thriving, and we've identified four key elements of a truly 'slow' democracy:
These aren't abstract concepts to anyone, nor are they relegated to the halls of academia. Communities around the country -- from the neighborhoods of Chicago to the town halls of New England -- are at the cutting edge of these very basic principles of self-governance. These communities aren't thinking about paradigm shifts: they are trying to solve real problems by using their community assets. But what they are doing is slow democracy. For example:
Slow Democracy means that there can be a range of regional democratic practices. What works in New England may not work in Oregon, and what works in Chicago may fall short in Austin. Slow democracy celebrates the terroir of community process.
When Alexis de Tocqueville came to the United States in 1831 to write Democracy in America, he commented on those regional differences. But he was even more struck by the commonality of American culture: the "political activity that pervades the United States [which] must be seen in order to be understood. " If he were to land at JFK today, he would be astonished by how, for many Americans, political engagement has diminished to the act of walking into a booth and pushing a button.
It is telling that Tocqueville identified the source of the United States' democratic strength as local government. "Municipal institutions constitute the strength of free nations," he wrote. "A nation may establish a system of free government, but without the spirit of municipal institutions it cannot have the spirit of liberty." With Slow Democracy, we propose strengthening those local democratic practices.
It's not that all decisions should be made locally, all the time. Some decisions should be made at the national level, especially when it comes to upholding basic rights: we think of civil rights, many environmental laws, and public health as key examples. Relying on far-off elected officials to make decisions for us is an integral part of the American system. But it is also true that many decisions that rightfully belong at the local level have been exported. Privatization, centralization, and the hyper-marketing of the individual have all served to further undermine our communities, resulting in more concentrated, centralized power -- and a public that has become, understandably, disengaged.
In the ongoing American balancing act between our national government and the citizens themselves, the pendulum has swung too far from the local.
Slow Democracy's goal is two-fold: to expand the power of those places where democracy is most vital, and to swing the pendulum back by providing citizens with the tools to govern themselves in the most inclusive, democratic, empowered, and effective ways possible.