For Maria Bárbara
Hélène Landemore’s “Politics without politicians: The case for citizen rule” (2026) was a fascinating read, for which David van Reybrouck’s “Against elections” (2016) had opened the way for me. Both share with us recent experiences (in the last three decades) where, inspired by the principles of ancient Athenian democracy, different societies (in Iceland, Ireland, France, Belgium, Canada, the US) tried to reinvent the democratic system of ruling by involving every day citizens in decision-making through sortition.
Landemore goes
deeper into the how’s, the pros and cons of sortition. Many people I talked
about this in the past reacted by questioning, not only the legitimacy, but
mainly the capacity of ordinary citizens, chosen at random, to make decisions that
should better be left with experts. Two references struck me with relation to these
concerns:
In a 1966
study called “The American Jury”, Harry Kalven and Hans Zeisel showed “a high
level of agreement between jury verdicts and the judges’ pre-verdict opinions,
suggesting that juries are generally competent and reliable in deciding cases,
at least as individual judges.” (p.116). Landemore also reminds us that Alexis
de Tocquevile, the French philosopher who visited the US in the 19th
century (and wrote “Democracy in America”, considered the jury “a school of
democratic education”.
Another
significant reference was the Icelandic experiment in involving ordinary
citizens in the 2010-2013 process of reviewing the country’s constitution. In
this case, 25 ordinary citizens wrote a new constitution on the basis of the of
the recommendations of a random sample of 950 Icelanders. The process resulted in three
proposals. One was drafted and crowdsourced by ordinary people, not experts. The
25 writers, through deliberation, achieved consensus. The seven experts were so
divided that they produced two separate texts. In Landemore’s opinion, and among
different advantages, the citizens’ draft presented more sophisticated
solutions and it developed a longer and richer list of citizens’ rights, mentioning
more sources of discrimination than the experts’ draft (pp. 119-121).
I could go
on and on regarding the details Landemore gives us on experiences with ordinary
citizens, chosen by sortition and involved in processes such as the laws on
same- sex marriage and the abortion in Ireland; or the French Great National
Debates, which was an answer to the protests of the Yellow Vests, and also
served as a basis for the Citizens’ Convention for Climate that followed. It is
truly fascinating, but the thing that most got my attention was another: love.
Chapter 7 is
entitled “The power of love”. Nicolas Hulot, the French former Minister of the
Environment, was the guest of honour in one of the meetings of the Citizens’
Convention for Climate. He shared something incredibly honest and impressive.
He said that what he hated the most about the French National Assembly as the
atmosphere. “People hate one another over there. Here you are positive. You
give me hope.” (p. 157)
Landemore writes
that she hadn’t expected the emergence of love between participants in
cirtizens’ assemblies. She now believes that love is a central emotion in these
experiments. Even before, in chapter 3, which she calls “Democracy by Coincidence”,
she discusses hate an the way our oligarchic democracies divide us, polarise
us, demonise the other part, promote lies and the distortion of other opinions,
because the point is to win – not to be right, not to listen, not to learn, not
to change your mind (p.65). Landemore describes how she started paying more
attention to “the markers of love and affection”. She narrates a number of incidents
where love emerged in different ways among people who had been total strangers
and randomly came together to serve a purpose. What particularly called my
attention was the part on curing prejudices (pp.167-169), which is very
relevant considering it comes to looking to rebuild our democratic system,
considering the erosion it has suffered, the polarisation, the hate and
avoiding any discussion with anyone whose views are different from ours or
might annoy or cause us discomfort. How can we do politics without talking and
listening?
Landemore
tells the story of two specific people
that took part in the first Irish Convention on the Constitution which, among
other topics, discussed marriage equality. There was Finbarr O’Brien – a loner,
disaffected with politics and someone who had been sexually abused as a child
by a friend of his parents. There was also Chris Lyons, a gay man who has
suffered bullying from homophobes. Chris’ looks (piercings, makeup, hairstyle)
made Finbarr feel out of control. Chris saw in Finbarr one more older Irishman
whom he repeatedly had to convince that he was not a pervert and decided to
ignore him. The gap was obvious and huge. In the end, Finbarr spoke in favour
of same-sex marriage and Chris found a friend in an older man. Landemore calls
this “the transformative power of civic love”: over approximately six days of
deliberation, “two individuals bridged the gap between them by learning together
and bonding over a shared goal. Without that bond, there would have been no
understanding, no growth, no opportunity for either of them to challenge their
assumptions.”
This story
brought memories of the Heineken experience “Worlds Apart”; or that
of the Danish TV2 channel “All
that we share”.
The issue
of polarisation keeps coming up in my seminars these days. Many people express disappointment
at the way the world has become and feel unable to counter it, they believe it’s
hopeless. A colleague whom I interviewed recently brought a nuance to this,
though. He didn’t use the word polarisation, but “entrenchment”. And this is
more like it, really. We have become defensive, desperately looking for
protection from different, annoying, discomforting views; views that don’t
confirm, but challenge our certainties. I recently wrote an article for the
magazine “Manifesto” (issue
nr. 9, “Is culture a weapon?”) questioning whether there is anything more
irritating than the attitude expressed by the sentence “We agree to disagree”,
which has become so popular and is actually used to cut a discussion short. In
the article, I mention American film director and activist Valarie Kaur, who
says that love is a transformative force in our lives. She
defines revolutionary love as “the choice to see no stranger… to risk
ourselves for each other,” talks about the need to cultivate the inner strength
to see the humanity in others — even those who oppose us.
The people
I encounter in my seminars often say that they have lost faith in humanity. I haven’t.
Because it keeps appearing in moments of crisis – and that’s a sign it is still
there. We are still able to care for each other, to give a helping hand, to
share a meal (or drink a Heineken) with a stranger. What does it take to keep
this going also when the crisis is over? Hélène Landemore’s book may give us
some ideas. Perhaps counting less on professional politicians to take the
burden from our shoulders and decide for us – when all they care is to retain
power by spreading division, hate, anger and fear. The ingredients we need are
different: love, trust, care, solidarity – and the collective wisdom we can invest
in building a better democracy.
No comments:
Post a Comment