Abstract
Ever since I first became a sociologist, I’ve been fascinated with this intellectual tradition. As an American with interests in the origins of the discipline as well as convictions about—or at least hopes for—the importance of social theory for the common good, it was (and is) hard not to be. In terms of legacy, there are George Herbert Mead, William James, John Dewey, Jane Addams, and the entire Chicago school; on the social theory and greater good side, there is public culture, moral education, and the whole practice of democracy. And never does this school of thought, and its themes and normative commitments, seem more relevant and necessary than in an era marked by the rise of neoliberalism, the polarization of politics and the corruption of public discourse, the decline of citizenship and civility, and the crisis of democracy itself.
Certainly, David Ridley, an “independent scholar” working across the pond in Great Britain, shares these inclinations. Indeed, his new book, The Method of Democracy: John Dewey’s Theory of Collective Intelligence, is intended to refresh, revitalize, and redeploy the pragmatism of the most famous pragmatist of them all as an answer to the problems of neoliberalism and contemporary higher education.
The book consists of six core chapters, organized into three paired sets. The first set, Part I, is entitled “Theoretical Foundations.” It helps to set up Ridley’s argument and serves as something of a primer or refresher on pragmatism as a critical theoretical tradition set in comparison to the traditional Marxist-inflected Frankfurt School approach. Part II, “A Problematic Situation,” sketches out the current social conditions that Ridley is focused on and troubled by—namely, the late-twentieth-century rise of neoliberalism and the “marketization” of higher education. In classic critical theory fashion, Part III then puts forth a synthetic solution to the critique in the form of a “reconstruction” of both contemporary sociology and higher education. All this is in service of Ridley’s larger, overarching argument that Dewey’s pragmatic vision and unique approach to critical theory—and his notion of “collective intelligence,” most of all—constitute a “forgotten alternative” that can steer us through the morass of both uncritical and utopian social theory, as well as the polarized politics and public policies of our precarious and deeply troubled world.
Make no mistake. The Method of Democracy is bona fide social theory through and through. Even the chapters on the problematic conditions of contemporary social life are constructed not mainly with data and analysis but through extended discussions of the characterizations and analyses of other theorists, public intellectuals, and political-economic pundits, policy-makers, and critics. And Ridley’s orientation to this material is explicitly and self-consciously “critical”—in that it breaks with popular, established, and conventional cultural assumptions, emanates from and embraces normative foundations and commitments of its own, and is intended to offer concrete, change-oriented interventions. Here it is worth noting that although the front matter and promotional matter characterize Ridley’s treatment as steering a middle way through contemporary left-wing pessimism and neoliberal populism, the forgotten alternative he says Dewey represents is constructed (or “reconstructed”) mostly in dialogue with and against Frankfurt theory and practice.
“Collective intelligence” is obviously the core concept of the volume, and it is tempting to jump to the conclusion that bears that title for a concise summary. However, this would miss a lot. For example, Ridley’s careful reading of Dewey’s ideas about process and method for engaging social life as well as doing social science (p. 107), his attention to association as a key to the construction of consensus (p. 108), and the overarching argument that a public arises because the conditions and consequences of a social situation become increasingly complex (and problematic) and thus in need of alternative visions and solutions are all highly edifying. Similarly, Ridley’s treatment of how free markets were reconciled with state intervention in the latter quarter of the twentieth century takes us deep into the essence of neoliberalism. And his focus on higher education as both symptom of and prescription for the excesses of neoliberal marketization flows logically, indeed organically, out of Dewey’s collective intelligence and the need for solidarity and common knowledge. In addition, Ridley’s thoughtful connections to the whole public sociology movement stand as a genuine, innovative contribution to the critical theory literature and lexicon.
And yet. In an age when emotion seems to trump data and evidence, where interests and affiliations appear to overwhelm reason and critical thinking, and where colleges and universities and science itself are disdained and even demonized by significant segments of citizens and leaders, I can’t help but find the emphasis on thought and higher education as a solution to our collective problems a bit naïve or out of touch, perhaps even utopian itself. And I am not just thinking of people and forces on the Right; the capacity for critical thinking, meaningful reflection, and engagement on the Left often seems questionable as well.
Cognitive political psychologists have a great deal to say about tribalism and emotion in the context of human reasoning (or lack thereof) these days, as do critical race theorists working on topics ranging from racial resentment to racial ignorance. And other recent sociological work on the multiplicity of publics today (plural!), as well as the new, more complicated technological and institutional infrastructure in and through which our various publics function, present opportunities to complicate and contextualize the challenges of contemporary public culture and collective knowledge.
I believe that Ridley, who, according to a quick Google search, is working on a PhD in sociology at the University of Birmingham, is well positioned to draw these connections and help envision institutions and processes to better constitute our collective knowledge and intelligence. This vision, too, may be utopian. However, it would be in line with the empirical grounding that I think has long made pragmatism such a distinctive contribution to sociology, social theory, and practical engagement with the world.