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Home page URL: http://www.euricom.si OCTOBER 2014 ISSN 1318-3222 UDK 3 ĐODCSd ARTICLES Seth Ashley The Sociology of Media System Structure: Communication Policy and the "Double Movement" Young Hee Lee Dal Yong Jin Technology and Citizens: An Analysis of Citizens' Jury on the Korean National Pandemic Response System Stephen Cushion Injecting Immediacy into Media Logic: (Re)interpreting the Mediatisation of Politics on UK Television Newscasts 1991-2013 5 23 39 Hannu Nieminen A Short History of the Epistemic Commons: Critical Intellectuals, Europe and the Small Nations 55 Nico Carpentier A Call to Arms: An Essay on the Role of the Intellectual and the Need to Produce New Imaginaries 77 Ksenija Vidmar Horvat Rebordering the Perspective on the EU: A View from the Slovenian Periphery 93 m o o rN rN 15 > POVZETKI ABSTRACTS IN SLOVENE 109 CO I- LU I- o u THE SOCIOLOGY OF MEDIA SYSTEM STRUCTURE COMMUNICATION POLICY AND THE "DOUBLE MOVEMENT" seth ashley ABSTRACT Karl Polanyi's concept of a "double movement" has been used to describe the protectionist measures taken by governments to mitigate damage caused by the expansion of markets. Through a lens of political economy and historical institutionalism, this article uses Polanyi's framework to examine competing notions of the public interest as exemplified by the socially constructed nature of American and British broadcasting and the legitimating discourse that produced divergent outcomes. A historical analysis points to a decline of the double movement in communication policy, particularly in the U.S., and lends support to calls for noncommercial, public media structures and increased regulation of communication industries. Seth Ashley is Assistant Professor in Department of Communication, Boise State University; e-mail: sethashley@boisestate.edu. rN rN m d cp rn o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (fl 0 C Ì Ln Introduction In his 1944 book The Great Transformation, Karl Polanyi (2001) described a "double movement" to characterise the protectionist measures taken by Western governments in response to the expansion of market society that occurred in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. Protectionist regulation represented a natural reaction to the ravages of supposedly self-regulating markets as they became "dis-embedded" from society and social relations. Polanyi suggested that the double movement governed the dynamics of society throughout the nineteenth century, ensuring a balance between expanding markets and the protection of society. According to Polanyi, this balance peaked in 1914 and then unravelled to cause World War I, the rise of fascism, and the Great Depression. As Polanyi wrote in the 1940s, a new countermovement was growing, and in the end, he remained optimistic that protectionist tendencies would keep supposedly self-regulating markets in check and prevent the kind of broad social upheaval seen in the first half of the twentieth century. Polanyi remains a lesser-known political economist, but his thinking has endured and even surged in recent years as evidenced by a host of books and articles celebrating and analysing his contributions and his legacy (Dale 2010a; Block and Somers 2014). Some suggest that his theories and concepts are broadly useful today in understanding the rise of market fundamentalism and neoliberal globalisation since the 1970s. This article applies Polanyi's work specifically to the structure of media systems in the United States and Great Britain, and their evolution and development since the origins of broadcasting in the early twentieth century, with a focus on the "public interest" concept that guided both nations. A historical comparison of broadcasting policy suggests that a double movement helped to place limits on unchecked growth and expansion in Britain while the American approach has long been oriented toward a singular focus on market expansion, reflected in what some have called "corporate libertarianism" (Picky ard 2013) or "corporate liberalism" (Streeter 1996). Divergent approaches can be identified in the origins of broadcasting; invocations of the "public interest" were used to guide American and British policy but with drastically different outcomes. A century later, the American approach to media system structure has become a dominating influence throughout the world. As Princeton sociologist Paul Starr noted in The Creation of the Media, "In short, though the differences have by no means been completely eliminated, the divergence in communications that opened up between the United States and Europe in the eighteenth century has increasingly been settled on American terms" (Starr 2004, 13). This modern transformation represents the decline of the double movement in communication policy. juncture," represented by the introduction of a major new technology, the collapse of journalism and at least the stirrings of broad social and political turmoil (Mc-Chesney 2007). Headlines tell of unanswered questions in digital policy, such as the ongoing saga of "network neutrality," the contested idea that Internet service providers should treat all websites equally (Wu 2003). Meanwhile, internet enthusiasts and optimists suggest that institutional market-oriented media power is being neutralised by technological developments that allow for an unprecedented il . KD multitude of voices (Gillmor 2004; Benkler 2006; Shirky 2008; Ashuri 2012). Others find it premature to suggest that the tenacity of institutionalised structural power does not remain a significant barrier to more democratic media systems, particularly in the United States (Curran, Fenton and Freedman 2012; McChesney 2013). As new structures emerge and new policies are crafted, will a new double movement help us find a balance or will an increasingly "disembedded" economics lead to a new global crisis? This article proceeds by first introducing Polanyi's political economic framework and examining its critics, its modern uses and its forerunners. Second, I examine competing understandings of the tensions between markets and society evident in the origins of broadcasting policy in the United States and Great Britain. Third, I compare modern policy outcomes to help understand the lasting effects of path-dependent processes and to chart a path forward. Ultimately, this article argues for a renewed focus on political economic analyses of institutionalised power and renewed efforts to build and enhance non-commercial public media. Properly embedded in society with appropriate protectionist measures in place, media systems can be much more than what is afforded by today's dominant market approach. Markets and Society: Polanyi's Political Economy As an explanatory framework, political economy emphasises the contingent interplay of institutions in contexts over time, much like historical institutional-ism (Thelen 1999; Pierson and Skocpol 2002) and path dependence (Pierson 2004). Political economy can be viewed broadly as the return of social, political and cultural contexts to the realm of economics, which often takes a too-narrow view of policies and procedures while neglecting larger contexts. A long-established theoretical and methodological approach, political economy provides a framework for analysing the structure of media systems and has already been employed in such an application (Mosco 1996; McChesney 2008). Whatever name we give to this general approach, it has long been employed by many of the major figures in the formative period of the social sciences. Pierson (2004) notes that these figures, such as Polanyi, Marx and Weber, "adopted deeply historical approaches to social explanation" (Pierson 2004, 2). Polanyi's deep historical approach reached back to the origins of the Industrial Revolution to explain what he plainly called the "collapse" of nineteenth-century civilisation (Polanyi 2001, 3). His analysis cantered on the idea that the "almost miraculous improvement in the tools of production" that accompanied the Industrial Revolution brought with it "a catastrophic dislocation of the lives of the common people" (35). The attitudes toward the changes that occurred represented "a mystical readiness to accept the social consequences of economic improvement, whatever they might be" (35). The pace of progress had to be slowed, he suggests, "so as to safeguard the welfare of the community" (35). The common liberal economic approach to understanding the history of the changes that took place in the 1800s has neglected these points because "it insisted on judging social events from the economic viewpoint" (35). Taken together, these points remind historians of the significance of the nineteenth century in charting the social courses that in large respects we continue to follow today. This is also the general lesson of the institutional and political economic approaches in their critique of traditional economic analysis. Polanyi (2001) discussed the Speenhamland Law of 1795 as a key moment in the transformation of society at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution. Speenhamland's "allowance system" offered "a powerful reinforcement of the paternalistic system of labour organisation as inherited from the Tudors and Stuarts" (82). As Ogus (1999) points out, "At no time in English legal history has the law governing industry and commerce been so extensively and intensively penetrated by regulation as in the Tudor and Stuart periods" (1). In other words, industry and commerce were never more heavily regulated than during this period. Central to the social and cultural history of England is this tradition of paternalism and protectionism that dates back to the Middle Ages. Despite the emergence of enclosures and labour legislation, the "Tudors and early Stuarts saved England from the fate of Spain by regulating the course of change so that it became bearable and its effects could be canalised into less destructive avenues" (Polanyi 2001, 79). But by the time of the Industrial Revolution, this approach began to give way to the force of progress and those individuals who preferred unchecked growth. In Polanyi's view, "human society would have been annihilated but for protective counter-moves which blunted the action of this self-destructive mechanism" (79). After the disaster of Speenhamland and the conditions that followed as land, labour and capital were fully commodified in 1834, these protective counter-moves gave rise to what Polanyi calls the "double movement," which defined the rest of the nineteenth century. He defines the double movement: "the extension of the market organization in respect to genuine commodities was accompanied by its restriction in respect to fictitious ones" (79). Measures including factory laws and social legislation were put in place immediately to protect the "fictitious" commodities of land, labour and capital. The market system that dominated the nineteenth century gave rise to a reflexive working-class movement that would permanently shape society. Polanyi's social history of England helps to set the stage for the emergence of broadcast technologies in the early twentieth century. This tradition of protectionist measures taken to guard society from market forces may have influenced the decision of British regulators to prefer a public, non-commercial media system to one dominated by commercial interests. More generally, Polanyi's double movement concept vividly illustrates the inevitable tensions between society and markets and ^ points to the role of the state in generating policies that attempt to reconcile these tensions. Thus, this concept is central to any investigation of the role of the state in weighing the potential promise of unchecked growth and economic liberalism with the need for regulation. As Polanyi notes, there is nothing "natural" about laissez-faire or free markets, which "could never have come into being merely by allowing things to take their course" (145). Assuming the naturalness of markets is unjustified. This type of sys-(ß tem, he suggests, "is an institutional structure which, as we all too easily forget, has been present at no time except our own, and even then it was only partially present" (40). As evidence of this, Polanyi discusses primitive cultures and their reliance on redistribution and reciprocity as central components of social organisation. If humans do have a "natural" inclination toward a certain form of social organisation, it almost certainly looks more like that of these primitive societies, which seem to find ways to fulfil their needs without creating vast social inequality and unrest. By focusing on "production for use," these societies eschew the notion of "production 0 £ i C i 00 for gain," which Polanyi, referencing Aristotle, points out was "a motive peculiar to production for the market" (56). Based on his analysis of primitive cultures, CT> Polanyi concludes that "... never before our own time were markets more than accessories of economic life. As a rule, the economic system was absorbed in the social system, and whatever principle of behavior predominated in the economy, the presence of the market pattern was found to be compatible with it" (71). Thus, a market system controlled by prices alone violates the basic needs of society. This is certainly just as true for media systems as is it for political economy in general. Polanyi Today Interest in Polanyi's work seems only to have grown since it first appeared, and recent years are marked by a clear surge. Two recent books examine his life's work and argue for his relevance in today's context of rising market fundamentalism. In Karl Polanyi: The Limits of the Market, Gareth Dale (2010a) celebrated Polanyi's denaturalisation of capitalism, and in The Power of Market Fundamentalism: Karl Polanyi's Critique, Block and Somers (2014) use Polanyi's thinking to show that market fundamentalism is just as extreme and utopian as communism. In Dissent, Somers and Block (2014) write that Polanyi's "innovative theoretical framework could be central to the project of revitalizing the democratic socialist tradition" (30). In other recent scholarship, Immerwahr (2009) suggests that Polanyi's ideas are more relevant today than ever and historians should pay more attention to his important perspective. Vail (2010) uses Polanyi's work to argue in favour of decommodification as a way to insulate the civil sphere from market society, to protect public goods and incentivise market transparency. Smart (2011) suggests that Polanyi's thinking can guide the transition to a post-capitalist society, and Rogerson (2003) examines Polanyi's work to find parallels between the industrial revolution and the modern information revolution. There is not universal agreement on how to read Polanyi. Dale (2010b) analyses the different interpretations of Polanyi, one, as a radical socialist who opposed market systems, and two, as a more mainstream social democrat who simply argued for a well regulated capitalism. Dale argues that Polanyi was indeed committed to a socialist order but failed to provide details on what forms a successful transition would take. And Polanyi is not without critics, who generally deride his naive generalising and complain that he cherry-picked his data. Economics professor Gregory Clark wrote in The New York Sun that Polanyi "hopelessly romanticizes" pre-market societies, adding that "fans of Polanyi seem to be responding to his general belief that markets corrupt societies, and his assertion that free market economies are a shocking recent departure from a socially harmonious past" (Clark 2008, n.p.). Other critics note the merits of Polanyi's observations, but complain that his ideas, now 70 years old, are not useful for understanding current complex economic phenomena (Cangiani 2011). Holzman (2012) notes that Polanyi lacks focus on the role of the individual. And Hechter (1981) suggests that Polanyi confounds utilitarianism with the invisible hand theory of social order, a "mere utopian ideal for market society" (429), and finds Polanyi's blame to be misdirected: Since all his polemical ire is directed toward the self-regulating market, his image of a nonmarket society is undoubtedly too rosy. It is hard to avoid the conclusion that the rise of the market was made possible only by short- comings (or contradictions) inherent to the reciprocal and redistributive principles of social organization. But Polanyi is so enthusiastic about his explanation of the demise of the market that he never even sees the outlines of this equally trenchant problem (Hechter 1981, 424). Still, Hechter notes that even if the conclusions were off, Polanyi's "attack on laissez faire was entirely justified" (429). Critics and fans alike seem to see the failure of market fundamentalism in both historical and modern contexts. Polanyi's Intellectual Precursors: Marx, Weber, Durkheim Polanyi's work did not, of course, exist in a vacuum. He built on the work of many other social theorists and political economists. Before Polanyi, Marx made similar observations in "Grundrisse," written in 1857, in which he focused on social history as he analysed the conceptions of production and property in past societies. Marx pointed out that the notion of the independent individual is an eighteenth-century idea and that history reveals humans to be naturally dependent on each other, constructing their societies around tribal organising principles. Here Marx was refuting the common conception of humans as "naturally" independent and self-interested. Only in eighteenth century bourgeois society "do the various forms of association in society appear to the individual simply as means to his private ends, as external necessity" (Marx 1983, 376). This shift was central to the rise of markets and the tensions created in society. Marx's theories again remind us that social institutions do not arise naturally but are the creations of human actors. In markets and media systems alike, the capitalist, commercial, profit-oriented ideology enhances the tensions between the individual and the community by giving preference to the self-interest of the owners of the means of production. For example, in his analysis of the political rights of man as expressed in the constitutions and declarations of America and France, Marx identifies a common conception of the right to private property as a right of liberty. "Man's right to private property is therefore the right to enjoy y one's property and to dispose over it arbitrarily a son gre [according to one's will], without considering other men, independently of society. It is the right of self-interest" (108). This ideology is central to economic liberalism and gives preference to individual self-interest over the needs of the community. Weber also discussed the tension between markets and society, and in "The Social Psychology of the World Religions," first published in 1915, pointed to the rise of Puritan religious sects in England, suggesting that "the practical impulses for action ... are founded in the psychological and pragmatic contexts of religions" (Weber, Gerth and Mills 2009, 267). The impulse toward individualism and self-interest is rooted in the exclusivity of these sects, which contrasted sharply with the jjj inclusive nature of the Church of England, Weber suggested. "It is crucial that sect membership meant a certificate of moral qualification and especially of business morals for the individual. This stands in contrast to membership in a 'church' into which one is 'born' and which lets grace shine over the righteous and the unrighteous alike" (305). This shift would pave the way for the emergence of the spirit of capitalism, with its emphasis on individuals and competition among them. Furthermore, with the emergence of sects, individuals became empowered to communicate with God directly rather than needing to rely on the church to 0 fi fr I fi > O communicate with God. This dismissal of the church as an intermediary worked to suppress the sense of community fostered by the church and to promote the sort of independent individualism that would be required for capitalism to flourish. Weber went on to analyse the impact of this shift on society and found that the "the more the world of the modern capitalist economy follows its own immanent laws, the less accessible it is to any imaginable relationship with a religious ethic of brotherliness. The more rational, and thus impersonal, capitalism becomes, the more is this the case" (331). As Weber demonstrates, the social conditions created by these shifts in religions and their "economic ethics" established a foundation for the changes brought by the nineteenth century. Weber helps to connect the shifts in religious life as early as the sixteenth century to twentieth-century capitalism through the "spirit of individualism" that fuels it. Understanding the rise of individualism prior to this time contributes to the analysis of markets and media as institutional structures in social contexts. Durkheim also advanced the analysis of markets and society by offering evidence that the individualism spawned by the Puritan sects of England and developed through the nineteenth century during the growth of capitalist markets actually contributed to the disintegration of society and had to be kept in check by more community-oriented social forces. Limits on liberty actually provide social benefits to both the individual and the community, Durkheim suggested. In Suicide, published in 1897, Durkheim, concerned about social disintegration, addressed tensions between individual and community by examining rates of voluntary death in the context of religious, domestic and political societies. "Egoistic" is the label he used to describe the type of suicide that results from "excessive individualism," which he found evident in widespread detachment from social life, weakened social groups, and the dominance of individual goals and private interests over those of the community. "If we agree to call this state egoism, in which the individual ego asserts itself to excess in the face of the social ego and at its expense, we may call egoistic the special type of suicide springing from excessive individualism" (Durkheim 1951, 209). This rampant "egoism" was caused by such factors as the overthrow of traditional beliefs, the rise of a spirit of inquiry as with Protestantism, and the lack of general social authority during the industrialisation of Western Europe in the nineteenth century. Durkheim also presented the concept of "anomic" suicide, which is the reaction to disturbances of the collective order. Both anomic and egoistic suicide "spring from society's insufficient presence in individuals," but anomic suicide "results from man's activity's lacking regulation and his consequent sufferings" (258). With this concept, Durkheim focused on rapid economic progress, unregulated industrial relations and excessive wealth, which "deceives us into believing that we depend on ourselves only" (254). These factors - even though they may enhance the comforts of life - cause disturbance to social equilibrium, which leads to anomie. Overall, Durkheim concluded that suicide rates increase "because we no longer know the limits of legitimate needs nor perceive the direction of our efforts" (386). For Durkheim, control and regulation of society is the solution to this problem. In sum, like Polanyi, Marx, Weber and Durkheim were all concerned with social relations and patterns of behaviour that developed in the wake of or helped contribute to the rise of markets. Their analyses, in the political economic tradition, illustrate attempts to balance individual interests with the interests of the community in the context of market economies, and these understandings are reflected in the institutional structure of media. Polanyi had the benefit of living and writing in the twentieth century, and thus his analysis is perhaps the most relevant today. When applied to modern media structures, his arguments demonstrate the need to limit the power and influence of market forces. The "Double Movement" in the Origins of Broadcasting Modern media systems have roots in the early twentieth century, and thus cannot be isolated from the political economic context in which Polanyi wrote. Furthermore, as path dependence would suggest, the policies and preferences selected at the origins of broadcasting have had lasting effects and continue to influence media markets and the degree of their "embeddedness" in society. Thus, the origins of broadcasting represent a critical juncture in the history of communication policy (McChesney 2007) and much has been written about the early formation of broadcasting systems and policies in the U.S. (Barnouw 1966; McChesney 1993) and the U.K. (Briggs 1961; Scannell and Cardiff 1991). Less common are direct comparisons of the two systems even though they represent drastically different outcomes. Why did these nations - relatively similar Western, industrialised democracies -choose such different paths? By the mid-1930s, private, commercial media were fully institutionalised in the United States, while in Britain, the non-commercial, publicly funded BBC held a monopoly. As a check on market power, the British solution seems to embody the double movement while the American approach took a different path. In the early 1920s, policymakers in both nations began to invoke the "public interest" as they debated potential policy solutions, and the concept was central to both British and American policy outcomes in the 1930s. But despite these ostensibly similar claims of concern for the "public" and the "public interest," broadcasting in the U.S. and the U.K. is structured in very different ways. What were the intended ^ and received meanings behind these socially constructed concepts that informed the policy outcomes that created these structures? By virtue of its name, the "public interest" appears to set itself in opposition to the private or individual interest, but a lack of normative purpose makes the concept malleable. As Feintuck notes, "Though the very phrase 'the public interest' has an air of democratic propriety, the absence of any identifiable normative content renders the concept insubstantial, and hopelessly vulnerable to annexation or colonization by those who exercise power in society" (2004, 33). This is, of course, what makes it so attractive as a policymaking and regulatory tool. A review of previous scholarship addressing the concept of the public interest and its role in structuring relationships between the state and society reveals multiple socially and temporally constructed meanings and interpretations dependent on context (Friedrich 1962; Stone 2001; Feintuck 2004). References to the "public good" and "common good" go back at least as far as the ancient Greeks and persisted through time to America's colonial origins. The Mayflower Compact of 1620 speaks of the "general Good of the Colony" (Hetener 1982, 103). Perhaps the earliest use of the term "public interest" comes from Lord Matthew Hale, an English justice, who suggested in a 1670 essay that some types of private property such as seaports can be "affected with a public interest," thereby 0 fi fr I fi > fM justifying regulation by the state (McAllister 1930). These sorts of early usages imply that an appeal to the public good or public interest could be used to justify ro public intervention in private matters and to place restrictions on private activity. 1—1 In exploring the meaning of "public interest" in U.S. broadcast policy, Rowland (1997) reported that the public interest standard had been in statutory use in the U.S. for nearly a century prior to its use in broadcasting regulation, and it originated in state-level administrative agencies or commissions in the 1830s. In the U.S., the concept was applied to projects of a "special, quasi-public nature" involving "industrial-governmental relationships," such as the construction of railroads, shipping canals, roads and highways (Rowland 1997, 316). The landmark railroad case Munn v. Illinois in 1877 initially gave the state power to regulate private property in the public interest (Munn v. Illinois 1877). But by the early 1900s, this idea gave way to a preference for the property rights of industry as America moved into the Progressive Era and began to establish a number of federal administrative agencies, beginning with the Interstate Commerce Commission, which, despite their "independent" label, were actually dependent on the industries they were designed to regulate (Horwite 1989; Rowland 1997). According to Horwite, "Notwithstanding some anti-corporate rhetoric, Progressive Era reforms defined the public interest within the context of a rationally functioning capitalist system. Consumer welfare was considered enhanced through expanded, rational competition" (68-69). Concern for industry, then, overlapped with the public interest in these early conceptions, which aimed to minimise and avoid state control or ownership. This also fit with the cultural context of the early 1900s, during which business and industry worked to successfully win the hearts of Americans (Marchand 1998). As Rowland writes, the ideology of the post-progressive period was one that strongly favored the image of enlightened, scientific corporate leadership. Business and government, which had always been less at odds than had been apparent, would now explicitly overcome their differences, and the private would henceforth be infused with a responsible public purpose (1997, 328). In this context, Rowland suggests that the concept always had a clear pro-industry connotation and was never intended to require service to some higher ideal other than economic efficiency. By the time it was introduced in the Radio Act of 1927, "the public interest standard was neither vague nor undetermined in meaning or practice when introduced into broadcasting legislation. To the contrary, it was a well-rehearsed doctrine, with a rather widely understood practical meaning that had been emerging throughout the earlier stages of American industrial regulation" (315). Thus, Rowland concludes that the "public interest" standard in U.S. broadcasting "contained within it the seeds of its own compromise, if not destruction" (313). Despite the merits of Rowland's analysis and conclusion, legal scholars, academics and regulators have spent decades debating the meaning and application of the public interest concept (Goodman and Krasnow 1998). For example, the lawyer Louis G. Caldwell, in a 1930 law review article about the use of the public interest standard in the 1927 Radio Act, noted that "public interest, convenience or necessity" "means about as little as any phrase that the drafters of the Act could have used and still comply with the constitutional requirement that there be some standard to guide the administrative wisdom of the licensing authority" (Caldwell 1930, 296). If the concept had such clear meaning based on its previous applications, why all the confusion? As Wollenberg noted in 1989, From the perspective of more than half a century, it seems passing strange that a society traditionally fearful of government should have subjected one of its major communications media to sweeping, vaguely defined administrative powers. It seems even more remarkable that the process of subjection was led by conservative, business-oriented government officials and was fully supported by the nascent broadcasting industry (Wollenberg 1989, 61). Indeed, why employ a phrase so subject to debate, especially if pro-industry forces had the power to craft the law as they pleased? The Radio Act of 1927 and its successor, the Communications Act of 1934, would eventually be used to generate outcomes that were not likely preferred by licensed broadcasters or the titans of industry, such as protections for political speech (Vos 2005), the Federal Radio Commission's crackdown on self-serving broadcasters (Benjamin 2001), and later, the divestiture of the National Broadcasting Corporation (NBC v. FCC 1942) and the Supreme Court's antitrust ruling against the Associated Press (Associated Press v. U.S. 1945). Furthermore, consider the libertarian view that the public interest concept embodied in communication law was a horrifying intervention in the marketplace: Since there is no such thing as the "public interest" (other than the sum of the individual interests of individual citizens), since that collectivist catch-phrase has never been and can never be defined, it amounted to a blank check on totalitarian power over the broadcasting industry, granted to whatever bureaucrats happened to be appointed to the Commission (Rand 1967, 126). From a libertarian perspective, the American approach to regulation does not fit. Coase (1959) suggested that the broadcast regulation in the U.S. was flawed due to the failure to create property rights in the scarce airwaves. He proposed that the market was not allowed to operate properly: "A private-enterprise system cannot function properly unless property rights are created in resources, and, when this is done, someone wishing to use a resource has to pay the owner to obtain it. Chaos disappears; and so does the government except that a legal system to define property rights and to arbitrate disputes is, of course, necessary" (Coase 1959, 14). This radical view was never seriously considered, but it does demonstrate that the regulatory scheme that emerged, with its vague invocation of the public interest «concept, was hardly consistent with free market principles. ttii:„,„I„1., u,„ T i C __________I„I.____—_________,,-u u,. I________ Ultimately, the U.S. regulatory approach to broadcasting reflected an attempt to strike a balance between pure market principles of private ownership, which did not seem feasible, and direct ownership or control by government, which did not seem desirable. As Streeter (1996) indicates, this approach in the 1920s did offer a reasonably clear guiding principle for broadcasting thanks in large part to the cultural context: the rise of consumer society. Streeter writes that two interrelated ideas - "a particular vision of the public as a social force in need of harmonious 0 C integration into the larger political economy, and the belief that the consumer system would facilitate that integration" - helped to guide broadcasting policy. "The LH public, in other words, was a body of potential consumers, and the public interest lay in the cultivation of a consumer society" (Streeter 1996, 45-46). Bringing commercial radio into millions of homes would accomplish exactly that. While Streeter is critical of the corporate liberalism that dominated broadcasting policy, others suggest that this is to be expected or even appropriate. Hetener (1982) attributes this general approach to the rise of a "radical individualist utilitarian ethos" in the U.S., which "dominates not only the economic arena but also all other spheres of life including the ethical" (187). Compare this to what existed in Britain during the early days of radio. "The 'collectivism' of state ownership in Britain" contrasted sharply with "the 'individualism' of private ownership in the United States" (Dewar 1982, 38). Furthermore, state ownership had a much stronger tradition in Britain, as exemplified by the Telegraphy Act of 1869 and the Wireless Act of 1904, which put the control of communication services squarely in the hands of the state under the direction of the Post Office. These means of point-to-point communication were closely regulated by the state from the beginning. The initial reason for this approach had to do with national security as Britain worked to secure its empire (Crisell 2002). This approach also emerged out of the changing nature of government regulation of industry in general. As industries such as the railway, telegraph, and gas and water supplies developed in the first half of the nineteenth century, "competition was presumed to regulate the industries in the public interest" (Foreman-Peck and Millward 1994, 10). By the 1860s, the public and public officials began to see the inefficiencies of these natural monopolies in private hands. "In short, state policy in these years allowed competition between networks and the public was dissatisfied with the results" (Foreman-Peck and Millward 1994, 10). Eventually, the state moved to place limits on profits (just as it would do with the formation of the British Broadcasting Company in 1922), but this had a negative impact on the incentive to invest, and private industries found themselves struggling to attract capital. This led to the rise in the late 1800s of the public corporation model, which would provide the framework for the British Broadcasting Corporation in 1927. This historical context for the development of British broadcasting reflects the emphasis placed on public service to be provided by utilities and networks, which would come to include the BBC. As broadcasting developed, the conception of broadcasting as a "public utility to be developed as a national service in the public interest came from the state. The interpretation of that definition, the effort to realise its meaning in the development of a programme service guided by considerations of national service and the public interest, came from the broadcasters and above all from John Reith" himself (Scannell and Cardiff 1991, 6-7). Outside of this sort of usage, the term "public interest" has no formal legal usage in British broadcasting. Yet "public interest" was a commonly used phrase. A search of the Hansard database of Parliamentary debates yields 5,948 mentions of the term in the nineteenth century, used in a range of contexts often related to public works projects from bridges to prisons. The term was also used in the context of broadcasting. For example, Member of Parliament Sir Henry Norman in the House of Commons in 1912: Everybody who knows anything about wireless knows that the Marconi Company have always sought by every means to secure such a monopoly. I repeat, I am not blaming them for this; on the contrary, their efforts, and the success which has attended them, show very great commercial sagacity. But the interests of the Marconi shareholders are one thing and the public interest is another (Hansard, 11 October 1912 col 675). This type of use of the public interest rhetoric could have been heard in the United States just as easily as in Britain. In fact, the U.S. Secretary of Commerce made many statements similar to this (Hoover 1952). The language was also employed by the two major British commissions that would make the recommendations that would lead to the formation of the BBC. For example: While it is impossible to forecast with certainty the development of broadcasting, it seems clear that it will be utilized for matters of widespread public importance, and in these circumstances not only the regulation of what should, in the public interest, be broadcast, but also the actual operation of so important a national service, should be in the hands of the Government rather than in private hands (Sykes Committee 1923, 13). Thus, the "public interest" concept and its variants were used in Britain just as they were in the U.S., even though they were not formally adopted as a matter of law in exactly the same way. Ultimately, the BBC's Royal Charter of Incorporation in 1927 would call for the organisation to act "as Trustees for the national interest" ("Royal Charter of Incorporation" 1936, 56). The BBC was built on a foundation of "public service," a concept that was part of the legal framework of the public corporation, and more importantly, a sort of cultural value that would be embraced by John Reith and the BBC. However ill-defined it may have been, the "public interest" concept did inform British broadcasting policy, though not in the same way as the notion of "public service," which did carry a specific meaning quite contrary to anything that existed in the U.S. Ü The Transformation Continues: Media Markets and Society Today Just as Polanyi may have overstated the "collapse" of nineteenth century civilisation, it is probably an overstatement to suggest that modern media systems have collapsed. But we certainly have problems. The "double movement" continues to be eroded by market fundamentalism, and media systems continue to suffer. As Justin Lewis notes, "If we ask consumer capitalism to create an information system enabling citizens to understand the world, its best efforts continue to fall well short of our ideals" (Lewis 2013, 18). A new double movement is needed to rebalance media markets and society, particularly in the U.S. Today, considering the tendency for American media policy to favour commercial and corporate interests, many scholars and other experts in the U.S. have called for more non-commercial public media to increase diversity and localism in media content and ownership (Knight Commission 2009; Pickard et al. 2009; Cochran 2010; Westphal and Cowan 2010; Benson and Powers 2011). One recent report points out that America is "unique among western democracies in its nearly complete reliance on commercial media to present comprehensive information about government and C > KD politics, to hold political and business elites to account through critical commentary and investigative reporting, and to provide a forum for a broad range of voices and viewpoints" (Benson and Powers 2011, 8). Despite the dominance of commercial 1—1 media, national public media has existed in the U.S. since the late 1960s and today offers an alternative to mainstream commercial outlets. At the same time, public media is constantly under ideological fire, as evidenced by the spring 2011 vote in the House of Representatives to defund the Corporation for Public Broadcasting (Sonmez 2011). Critics of federal spending on public media "call the expenditure an unneeded luxury at a time when most households are awash in media" (Lieb-erman 2011). What these critics mean is that households are awash in commercial media outlets controlled by a handful of giant corporations. Critics of public media often disregard evidence that "public service broadcasters play an important civic role in overseas markets, remedying the classic market failure in the production of quality, independent, commercial-free journalism" (Benson and Powers 2011, 6). This is to say nothing of the fact that American public media is already weakly funded at best. Current U.S. funding for public media stands at around $420 million per year, or about $1.35 per American (Corporation for Public Broadcasting 2011). Compare this to Britain's licensing fee, which stands today at $233.40 (145.50 pounds), and is paid by every household with a colour television, generating around $5.8 billion (3.6 billion pounds) for the British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC Trust 2010). The fee is used to support numerous media outlets via radio, television and the Internet. The BBC estimates that 97 percent of U.K. citizens use BBC services each week (BBC 2011). Despite the ravages of market-oriented neoliberalism that began in the 1980s (Chomsky 1999; Campbell and Pedersen 2001; Harvey 2007), from which Britain and the BBC have not remained immune (Born 2004; Feintuck 2004), Britain still has fared somewhat better than the U.S., as evidenced by a continuing strong commitment to public media. The high quality of the BBC is also reflected in the increasing numbers of Americans who have turned to the BBC, especially after 9/11 and during the Iraq war, as an alternative to what is available in the U.S. (Bicket and Wall 2009). The Columbia Journalism Review reported in 2007 that the BBC and other high-end British news outlets have been making their presence felt here. Not just media critics, but a host of political bloggers have pointed to the Brits' more skeptical coverage of the run-up to the Iraq war and wondered why can't American reporters be more impertinent, why can't they ask sharper questions - why, in short, can't they be more Brit-like (Hansen 2007, 26). Bicket and Wall, in their study of American interest in the BBC conclude: "The accumulated impact of the BBC in Britain and around the world - including America - over the past 80 years has been immense. The institution, and the social responsibility/public-service broadcasting model it embodies, has become intimately associated with the very idea of Britain" (2009, 365). Although the BBC today faces a range of criticism, including charges that it too often reflects the positions of the government (MacCabe and Stewart 1986; Born 2004), it remains the gold standard for public service broadcasting around the world and is celebrated for its quality journalism (Kung 2000; Born 2004, 5). As Lewis concludes, "even our wealthiest market system - that in the United States - has been unable to create a news service to rival the breadth and scope of the publicly funded, non-commercial BBC" (2013, 18). Conclusion: The Sociology of Media System Structure Polanyi's work teaches us that markets must be sufficiently "embedded" in society and that a "double movement" of protectionist regulation is the best way to counterbalance expanding markets. This is particularly true in the context of media systems and the important role they play in democratic societies. For this reason, it is imperative that we understand how media systems are structured and work to maximise their degree of embeddedness through protectionist measures. Thus, the goal of this article has been to make a contribution to our understanding of how media systems can be best equipped to enhance democratic practices and place the needs of self-governing citizens first. In both the U.S. and Britain, regulatory intervention based on an appeal to the public interest dictates the structure of communication institutions but to drastically different ends. The commercial system in the U.S. favours content that serves commercial interests. Markets favour speech that favours markets. The British approach, imperfect as it may be, at least reflects a commitment to serving the public with content that has positive social benefits beyond profit accumulation. Thus, the British approach to broadcasting remains far closer to what one would expect from a reasonable normative understanding of the public interest, in the sense that it serves the larger public good of improving the conditions of democracy and freedom. As Feintuck (2004) argues, the public interest from a normative perspective can "be endowed with strong democratic credentials," and "its adoption as an interpretive principle, emphasizing the value of equality of citizenship, within the legal and regulatory systems, is not only advisable, but necessary, in the protection of democratic values" (255). This type of normative definition is more fully embodied in the British approach to broadcasting. Certainly, there is a balance to be struck. Obviously a system of government propaganda would be no more preferable than a purely commercial system. But a public system sufficiently insulated from the whims of politics is in a better position to provide some kind of public benefit. As Fiss (1996) notes, "We should never forget the potential of the state for oppression, but at the same time, we must contemplate the possibility that the state will use its considerable powers to promote goals that lie at the core of a democratic society - equality and perhaps free speech itself" (26). These words should be used to guide communication policy today and to create media structures and institutions that promote democratic values and practices. This approach can be used to break the corporate stranglehold on mainstream mass ""j" media (as well as emerging digital media forms) through limits on size, ownership and commercial content. It can also be used to promote public media organisations like the BBC, which even today remains capable of producing positive social benefits by being sufficiently insulated from politics and from markets. 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Information, Communication & Society 6, 1, fNJ 105-124. Rowland, Jr., Willard D. 1997. The Meaning of 'the Public Interest' in Communications Policy, Part I: Its Origins in State and Federal Regulation. Communication Law & Policy 2, 3, 309-328. Royal Charter of Incorporation. Command Papers. 1936. Report of the Broadcasting Committee 1935 (Cmd. 5091). London: HMSO. Scannell, Paddy, and David Cardiff. 1991. A Social History of British Broadcasting. Oxford: B. Blackwell. Shirky, Clay. 2008. Here Comes Everybody. New York: Penguin. Smart, Barry. 2011. Another 'Great Transformation' or Common Ruin? Theory Culture Society 28, 2, 131-151. Somers, Margaret, and Fred Block. 2014. The Return of Karl Polanyi. Dissent, Spring, 30-33. Sonmez, Felicia. 2011. House Votes to Defund NPR. Washington Post, March 17. Starr, Paul. 2004. The Creation of the Media: Political Origins of Modern Communications. New York: Basic Books. Stone, Deborah. 2001. Policy Paradox: The Art of Political Decision Making. New York: Norton. Streeter, Thomas. 1996. Selling the Air: A Critique of the Policy of Commercial Broadcasting in the United States. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Sykes Committee. Command Papers. 1923. Report of the Broadcasting Committee (Cd. 1951). London: HMSO. Thelen, Kathleen. 1999. Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Politics. Annual Review of Political Science 2, 1, 369-404. Vail, John. 2010. Decommodification and Egalitarian Political Economy. Politics & Society 38, 3, 310-346. Vos, Tim P. 2005. Explaining Media Policy: American Political Broadcasting in Comparative Context. (Unpublished Doctoral Dissertation). Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University. Weber, Max, Hans Heinrich Gerth and C. Wright Mills. 2009. From Max Weber: Essays in Sociology. New York: Routledge. Westphal, David, and Geoffrey Cowan. 2010. Public Policy and Funding the News. Los Angeles: USC Annenberg School of Communications and Journalism. Wollenberg, J. Roger. 1989. The FCC as Arbiter of 'the Public Interest, Convenience and Necessity.' In M. D. Paglin (ed.), A Legislative History of the Communications Act of 1934, 61-78. New York: Oxford University Press. Wu, Timothy. 2003. Network Neutrality, Broadband Discrimination. Journal of Telecommunications and High Technology Law 2, 1, 141-179. a 0 £ * 1 * (I) 0 C i fN fN TECHNOLOGY AND CITIZENS AN ANALYSIS OF CITIZENS' JURY ON THE KOREAN NATIONAL PANDEMIC RESPONSE SYSTEM Abstract Due to technical complexity, most public policies in technological society are dominated by expert-centrism and technocracy (an institutional form of expert-centrism), based on the belief that they should be the exclusive realm of technical experts. But globally, expert-led and technocratic policy-making culture is faced with challenges. We analyse the democratic implications of the Korean experience of the citizens'jury, a form of citizens' deliberative participation. We document and examine the citizens' jury on the National Pandemic Response System in 2008, which was the first case of the citizens' jury in Korea. We conclude that such characteristics of citizens' jury present positive implications in realising deliberative democracy. young hee lee dal yong jin Young Hee Lee is Professor of Sociology at the Catholic University of Korea; e-mail: leeyoung@catholic.ac.kr. Dal Yong Jin is Associate Professor of Communication at Simon Fraser University; e-mail: yongjin23@gmail.com. CO ro ro rN d cp ro o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (fl 0 C ■I m fN Introduction In the 21st century, technological development has been occurring at such a phenomenal rate that citizens and governments are having difficulty in understanding and coping with the changes. As Ellul (1964) already pointed out, technologies have a significant impact on people and society, and citizens have given up control over human affairs to technology and technological imperative. People feel bewildered, alienated and disempowered because their social world seems to be constructed outside their control on issues such as food irradiation, animal biotechnology, and infertility (Davison et al 1997; McKenna and Kasteren 2006). Public policies that are directly related to the citizens' social lives also become more technical, because both the content and means of public policies are technically specialised, and public policies are decided by experts and technocrats with special knowledge. The decision-making process in contemporary society, therefore, has been almost monopolised by experts and technocrats with no assurance of participation by citizens, even on issues that have a direct impact on people's lives. Such practice has been backed by the argument that only the experts are capable of understanding the technical content of public policies, as well as the technocratic justification that ordinary citizens without expert knowledge have neither the capability nor the qualifications to take part in such decision-making processes. However, an expert-led and technocratic policy-making culture is faced with challenges. In many countries, such as the U.S., Canada, and Australia, attempts are being made to expand the room for participation by ordinary citizens in the policy-making process. The types of such attempts are varied, and they include participatory actions similar to social movements such as protests, rallies and picketing, as well as institutional participation such as round tables, consensus conferences and citizens' jury. In Korea, in which technological breakthroughs happening are remarkable, there have been a number of attempts at citizens' participation in technical public issues in the past few years. On the one hand, there are several examples of social movement-type participation, including anti-nuclear, anti-GMO (genetically modified organism), and candlelight vigils against the import of US beef.1 On the other hand, cases of institutional participation are membership in government commissions and deliberative civic engagement such as in consensus conferences or citizens' jury. While social movement-type participation is a highly important form of citizens' involvement, in this article, we examine institutional participation and deliberative civic engagement. Of the different forms of deliberative civic engagement, we analyse the citizens' jury that was newly attempted by the Centre for Democracy in Science and Tech- 3 a map out whether participants in the citizens' jury facilitate deliberate democracy with the case of the 2008 National Pandemic Response System (NPRS). We examine whether citizens' jury based on stratified random sampling represents ordinary people's voices. In order to do this, we discuss the outcomes of the recommendations made by the citizen's jury and the group process of the citizen's jury. Finally, we investigate whether citizens' jury as a form of deliberative democracy is effective ^ in resolving the gap between technocracy and citizenry. Emergence of the Theory of Technological Citizenship and Deliberative Civic Engagement Technological citizenship mainly refers to the right to be enjoyed by members of a society in relation to the determination of science and technology policies in a technological society (Frankenfeld 1992). The conventional concept of citizenship established since the people's revolution that ushered in the modern society is based on the basic rights in civic life, such as entitlements, participation, and status within certain realms governed by the state, that individuals should be able to enjoy as members of a society. The concept of technological citizenship is based on the importance of technology in our society. As technology wields an enormous influence over most of a society's members, it is more urgently necessary than ever to subject the orientation and content of technological development to democratic control based on citizens' participation. Thus it can be seen as an extension of the conventional concept of citizenship, better suited to our technological society. According to Frankenfeld (1992), technological citizenship is made up of four rights: rights to knowledge or information; rights to participation; rights to guarantees of informed consent; and rights to the limitation on the total amount of endangerment of collectivities and individuals. These components are obviously interlinked, but the most important is to allow citizens to participate in important public policy-making processes on technological issues to influence the direction of technological development to be more democratic. In this light, compared to ordinary citizens, the right of access to knowledge or information is a sub-category of the right to participate in the technological policy-making process, the right to argue that decision-making be based on consensus which serves as the basis to the right to participate, and the right to limit the risk of endangering groups or individuals which is implicit in the intended goal of the right to participate. The theory of technological citizenship can be traced back to the Frankfurt school scholars such as Herbert Marcuse who criticised the "one-dimensional man" in developed industrialised societies (Marcuse 1964), or Jürgen Habermas (1968) who feared "colonisation of life world by systems." But more directly, STS (science, technology and society) scholars who study the interactions between science/technology and the society in a more practical perspective have developed a theory regarding the attempts at democratisation of technology through civic participation that had spread in the West since the 1960s.2 There have been various methods of citizens' participation in technological policy-making. It can be participation by ordinary citizens or by NGO (non-governmental organisation) representatives. It can be a simple and instant collection of participants' preferences (like a poll) or participants' determination of preferences after a long period of deliberation. The methods of institutional participation can be grouped into the following four categories depending on the participant (ordinary citizens vs. elite citizens (NGO leaders)) and mechanism of participation (preference gathering vs. deliberation) (Table 1).3 Of course, the institutional participation can be categorised by diverse standards; however, we select and develop only four types of participation addressed in Table 1, because we make a distinction of the civic jury system from the general forms of civic participation (A, B and D in Table 1). In addition, in relation to technological citizens, in type B and D, only elite citizens, not ordinary citizens, participate in the process; therefore, their practice of technological citizenship is limited. The type A represents ordinary citizens' participation; however, it relies on instantaneous gathering instead of deliberation; therefore, it is limited in informed consent. Contrast to this, both consensus conference and citizen's jury reflect technological citizenship's characteristics addressed above because participants in these two types are ordinary citizens and they participate in the process based on impartial information and enough deliberation (Lee 2009). Table 1: Methods of Institutional Participation Ordinary citizens Elite citizens Preference gathering A (polling, voting) B (public hearing, National Assembly hearing, polling) Deliberation C (consensus conference, citizens' jury) D (round table) For example, NGO leaders' participation in public hearings, committees and round tables (B and D) and polling and voting by ordinary citizens (A) are all types of institutionalised participation. NGO leaders' participation, although it is meaningful itself, cannot be called citizens' participation in the sense as it is participation as elite citizens. Meanwhile, polling and voting have the major limitation of merely collecting citizens' preferences at a certain point in time, although they have the advantage of encouraging participation in a large number.4 Due to these limitations, citizens' participation in deliberation (C) has recently gained more importance (Lee 2009). Deliberation is a dynamic process where participants can exchange their judgments, preferences, and perspectives through learning, discussion, and self-reflections. One of its biggest characteristics is that changes in preferences occur through persuasion and mutual learning based on debates and discussions, not through coercion, threat, image manipulation or deceit (Cho 2006). Thus citizens' participation through deliberation is clearly different from participation through voting or polling, which is intended to collect static preferences at a certain point in time. Deliberative democracy here is a theory on democracy that focuses on the possibility to expand and deepen democracy by going beyond the boundaries of representative democracy and participatory democracy through citizens' participation based on deliberation (Elster 1998; Dryzek 2000; Jeong 2005; Oh 2007; Isabel 2011). Under such a backdrop, when discussing technical issues it would be more advisable to use the deliberative process to ensure meaningful participation by non-expert ordinary citizens as it is preceded by supply of balanced information, learning, and pondering. This is the case primarily because it will not be easy for citizens to immediately determine their preferences on the issues presented to them for discussion as they would involve technical details not familiar to them. Therefore, participation in deliberation would be a more desirable format of citizens' participation, at least for technical issues, than conventional methods, including preference gathering. A Citizens' Jury as Deliberative Civic Engagement The two best-known types of citizens' participation through deliberation are consensus conference and citizens' jury. Developed in Denmark in the late 1980s, U S 3 a 0 £ 1 * (I) 0 C i KD fN consensus conference is defined as a forum where a selected group of laypersons unify their opinion regarding scientific or technological issues that are socially controversial or of social interest after raising questions to and heeding the answers ^ from experts and then announce such opinions through a press conference (Joss and Durant 1995; Einsiedel and Eastlick 2000; Goven 2003; Nishizawa 2005; Seifert 2006; Fan 2013). In other words, "the consensus conference involves the formation of a small panel of persons drawn from the general public, followed by a number of briefing weekends on issues raised by the technology being investigated, and culminating in a public conference at which the lay panel is able to control the agenda and to interrogate various invited experts" (Davison et al 1997, 339). The participants would be provided with knowledge and information on the subject matter through such formats as documents or expert lectures, based on which they would go through learning and discussions to judge the different expert views presented to them. They would finally present a list of actions in the name of citizens that should be undertaken by the government. The process concludes with the preparation of a report by the lay panel (Davison et al 1997). However, the consensus conference typically shows its problems as deliberative civic engagement due to its unstructured selection process of a lay panel of around 15 members. Typically, the consensus conference selects participants out of the citizens volunteering after seeing the advertisement in newspapers, as Einsiedel and Eastlick (2000, 330) explained with the issue of food biotechnology in the Canadian context. Of course, the consensus conference is able to randomly choose participants by stratified random sampling. For example, the consensus conference, which was organised by Danish Board of Technology, randomly selected citizen panels. However, existing consensus conferences in several countries, including the U.S., Canada, and Japan, selected citizen panels among volunteers who applied after seeing the advertisement in newspapers. In Korea, the consensus conference has become known since it was attempted by the CDST in 1998 (GMO), 1999 (cloning technology), and 2004 (nuclear energy). It was then used as a model for the Open Citizens' Forum implemented by the Korean Institute of Science and Technology Evaluation and Planning (KISTEP) in 2006 and 2007, as a form of participatory technological impact assessment (Lee 2009). However, as in many previous cases in other countries, most of them selected the participants from volunteers using newspapers. What is problematic the most is that if volunteers are recruited through newspaper advertisement, such self-selection would result in participation by only those who are interested in the subject matter, not ordinary citizens. As Rowe and Frewer (2000) argue, public participants in consensus conferences must have no knowledge on the topic; however, the volunteering process of consensus conference cannot prevent false volunteers from participating in the deliberation process. The selection process in several consensus conferences held in Korea did not secure both representation and ordinary citizens' views. Although the conclusion from such gathering cannot necessarily be an appropriate representation of lay citizens' views, it could be a fatal limitation as in some cases when socially delicate issues are addressed, those with interests in the issues could volunteer for the citizens' jury while hiding their purpose or intent. Such a case of false volunteers actually happened in 2004 in the consensus conference on nuclear power generation. A member of a housewives group in favour of nuclear energy volunteered for a citizens' panel without disclosing her membership in the group. The fact was discovered during the interview process. It was a lucky case of prior discovery, but such a problem of false volunteers remains as long as citizen panels are organised with volunteers. Consequently, Korea has recently developed the citizens' jury, which is a systematic program designed in the early 1970s by the Jefferson Center (2004) - an American non-profit organisation - to ensure citizens' participation in public policies. The citizens' jury is a form of deliberative democracy that allows a small panel of participants drawn from the general public to investigate, and make determinations about, significant social issues, including technological ones (McKenna and Kasteren 2006; Tutui 2011). Citizens' jury is different from consensus conference in that the participants are randomly selected, and the modalities of opinion collection and presentation well illustrate the differences and non-alignment between the participating citizens. The jury consists of around 15 members who are randomly selected, who then work on behalf of ordinary citizens. The deliberation process is also another key factor that Korea has widely begun to use the citizens' jury over the consensus conference. In the citizens' jury, it is held as a process of careful deliberation by a group of randomly selected citizens on publicly important issues for four-five days. The citizen jurors receive some compensation for their participation as they listen to testimonies by expert witnesses, discuss and deliberate on the possible solutions. Expert testimonies offer varying perspectives and arguments, and the jurors participate in a testimonial process conducted as a question-and-answer session. It is important that the testimonies be designed to reach a balance between contrasting opinions to address all the relevant aspects of the issue in a fair manner. The final opinion of the citizens' jury produced after such process would be submitted as non-binding policy recommendations (Smith and Wales 2000).5 Korea also selects the citizens' jury due to the advantages in the method of finalising the participants' opinions. At the consensus conference, the citizen panel y generally gets together for a meeting on the night before the last day and the members write the report themselves. But at the citizens' jury, the jury vote on a list of opinions compiled during their deliberation, and the final opinion is written into a report produced by the secretariat. For the consensus conference, it emphasises that the citizens' panel "agreed" on the opinion which can help stimulate public opinion but the small differences inside the panel may be overridden. In comparison, the citizens' jury's method makes it possible to illustrate even the detailed views of the participants but it could actually be detrimental to forming a public opinion as it only shows the distribution of various views. 0 £ i * (I) Citizens' Jury on the National Pandemic Response g System Technology Assessment and National Pandemic Response System (Avian Influenza) According to Korea's Basic Act on Science and Technology of 2001, the Ministry of Education, Science and Technology must select new technologies that might be socially controversial and undertake technology assessments every year through the government-invested research centre, known as KISTEP. The assessment should be performed by experts and ordinary citizens, and the outcome must be reflected CT> in national policies.6 Such assessment by citizens was conducted by KISTEP in ^ 2006 and 2007 under the title of "Open Citizens' Forum." It was modelled after the consensus conference widely used in Western countries. In 2008, KISTEP commissioned the assessment project to the CDST, a non-profit NGO that has been active in improving citizens' participation in the field of science and technology.7 Upon being commissioned, the CDST began to look for a model that is more advanced than the Open Citizens' Forum based on the consensus conferences held in the previous two years. In the end they decided to try the citizens' jury for the first time in Korea, for which members are randomly selected, unlike the consensus conference for which they are mainly self-selected. The selection committee chose the NPRS as the target for the technology assessment in 2008. Since the scope would be overwhelmingly large, the Committee narrowed it down to zoonosis (avian influenza) - infectious diseases by biological terrorism using anthrax and new infectious diseases from climate change, and the administration team decided to limit the topic to national pandemic caused by avian influenza. Avian influenza (AI) is generally called the "bird flu" or "bird influenza." It is an acute infectious disease that occurs through infection by the avian influenza virus, a devastating disease with almost 100 percent mortality rate that causes acute respiratory symptoms in chickens, turkeys and other poultry. The problem became even more serious as it was recently discovered that it infects not only poultry but also human beings. Since the first case of human mortality from AI type-A H5N1 virus occurred in Hong Kong in 1997, there have been growing concerns of a pandemic from a new influenza. In fact, the avian influenza H5N1 that occurred in East Asia and Southeast Asia has been jumping geographic and species boundaries since late 2003. From late 2003 to June 2007, there were officially 317 cases of human infection of H5N1 in 12 countries, of which 191 ended in deaths (60.3 percent). There are even reports of suspected human-to-human infection, although these are very limited (Chun 2007). If the AI virus keeps evolving through gene mutation and becomes capable of efficient human-to-human infection, it could lead to Pandemic Influenza (PI), which could cause up to 100 million deaths around the world (Davis 2005). In fact, the 1918 Spanish Flu, one of the biggest catastrophes in human history, that took 40 million lives or 1 percent of the global population at the time, was recently found to have been caused by the AI virus. As the most recent AI problem grew in scale, the World Health Organisation announced a guideline on planning against PI in 1999 and 2005, urging each country to create a specific and doable step-by-step national contingency plan suitable to their own circumstances. The Korean government also has a PI response system of its own led by the Disease Control Centre of the National Institute of Health. Composition of the Citizens' Jury The citizens' jury is largely made up of the advisory committee, expert witnesses, and the jury. The citizens' jury on the NPRS was organised based on the following frameworks. First, the project management team (three members) created an advisory committee made up of experts who could advise them on the administration of the project and recruitment of experts.8 The committee was made up of members with technical expertise in the topic of "NPRS against AI" as well as experts in social sciences.9 Participants for the jury were selected through a stratified random sampling by a professional survey organisation. The project management team outsourced the selection process to Media Research, a consulting company, to come up with a list of candidates, men and women over the age of 19 living in Seoul or Gyeonggi Do (Province: hereafter Gyeonggi). It was the first attempt for citizen jurors in Korea although the population had to be limited to Seoul and Gyeonggi due to budgetary reasons. Media Research contacted 5,500 people among randomly extracted phone numbers. Of them, 118 expressed willingness to participate in the citizens' jury.10 Media Research stratified them into homogenous sub-groups in order to improve the representations of the sample. In other words, the 118 were grouped by demographic characteristics, and a final list of 59 was sent to the project management team. The team randomly selected 16 candidates out of this list. The final citizens' jury consisted of 14 out of the 16. Demographics of the final 14 citizen jurors were as follows (Table 2): eight women and six men,11 ages from early 20s to 70s, residing in large cities, small cities or rural areas, with occupations including unemployed, housewife, student, self-owned business and professional (Lee 2009). Table 2: List of the Citizens' Jury £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (I) 0 C i o m Gender Age Occupation Region M 47 Self-owned business (interior decoration) Anyang, Gyeonggi F 25 Civil servant (contract position at a public clinic) Guro, Seoul F 44 Nursery teacher Dobong, Seoul M 31 Internet shopping mall Youngdeungpo, Seoul M 27 Hospital physiotherapist Bucheon, Gyeonggi F 51 Housewife Paju, Gyeonggi F 53 Counselor at Private Study Institute Songpa, Seoul F 45 Health food business Guri, Gyeonggi M 66 Self-owned business (real estate) Dongdaemun, Seoul F 62 Freelancer (English tutor) Seongnam, Gyeonggi M 55 Self-owned business (mail-delivered study aid) Gimpo, Gyeonggi F 70 Unemployed Suwon, Gyeonggi M 40 Financial institution Paju, Gyeonggi F 22 University student Gangbuk Seoul Process and Outcome of the Citizens' Jury Members of the citizens' jury listened to the presentations by different experts, asked questions, held their own discussions and came to their final assessment and policy recommendations. To help the jurors draw their conclusion and policy recommendations, the management team produced, with the help of the advisors, a list of questions to be answered by the jury. These questions were designed to clearly illustrate the jurors' views on the NPRS. The questions are largely grouped into four categories. The first group of questions are regarding the possibility of a national pandemic occurring from AI; the second group are on the state of readiness of Korea against such a national pandemic; the third and fourth are on the policy recommendations to improve the response system. These questions are as follows: What is the likelihood of a national pandemic occurring in Korea due to the Avian Influenza?, How would you rate Korea's response system against a possible outbreak of a national pandemic?, What are the areas of improvement necessary to ensure effective readiness and response against a national pandemic?, and What are the ways of enhancing citizens' understanding and confidence in the National Response System? To form a well thought-out response to the four questions, the citizens' jury was convened at a hotel meeting room in Seoul on four weekend days across two weeks: The first was the period August 30-31 (Saturday and Sunday) and the second was the period September 6-7, 2008.12 For four days, there were testimonies by eight experts, questions and answers, and discussions by the whole jury or by sub-groups. On the last day, the opinions of the citizen jurors were collected. Opinion gathering was conducted through the following process. First, regarding questions 1 and 2 that are about current conditions, they were asked to give a rating out of a scale of five. Secondly, for questions 3 and 4, a multitude of views were expressed through jury discussions. After several rounds of discussion, similar views were consolidated, other views were modified, and the final opinions were put together in a list. Lastly, they voted on the list of final opinions to identify the jurors' differing preferences. Each juror had votes in the number that was half of the number of opinions. But to ensure that various views are expressed, the number of votes that can be given for one opinion was limited. For example, they were able to give up to five votes for one opinion under question three, and up to three votes under question four. And they were also given veto power to be able to express themselves clearly on sharply contested opinions. The number of veto power was in proportion to voting rights: up to five under question 3 and up to three under question 4. But they were reminded that they were not required to exercise the veto power, unlike the voting right.13 The citizens' jury's assessment of the NPRS is as follows. They saw the likelihood of a national pandemic occurring due to AI to be relatively low, giving it a score of 1.79 out of a scale of 0-4 (higher score indicating a higher risk). But many voiced the view that much work has to be done to prevent it because if it does occur, the damage would be quite extensive. Regarding Korea's readiness in the areas of forecasting, human resources/equipment, vaccine/treatment and compensation, their evaluation was unfavourable, giving it a score of 1.5 out of a scale of 0-4, with 4 being the most favourable and 0 being the least. They thought that the readiness was especially insufficient in the area of vaccine or treatment (0.86). The best score was given to forecasting, but it was still a very low 1.5 (Figure 1). Regarding questions on improvement of the response system, a total of 25 opinions were collected through jury discussion.14 Thus each juror was given 13 votes and 5 vetoes, which made the total number of votes 182. The number of vetoes used was 11. As for this question, the following opinions were expressed. However, due to the limit of space, we only selected seven major responses that showed a high degree of agreements in order for this paper. "Stronger regulation against Figure 1: The Distribution of Readiness in the National Pandemic Response System overuse of antibiotics and growth hormones used on poultry" (17 votes), "To secure manpower dedicated to quarantine and disposal of poultry, provide specialised training, and strengthen follow-up monitoring" (13), "Ongoing monitoring/supervision and communication to prevent secondary damages from poultry disposal such as environmental contamination" (13), "To implement early blockade (access restriction) to prevent spreading of the AI and strengthen quarantine system" (12), "To install an organisation dedicated to developing and producing AI vaccine and treatment, and encourage private investment" (12), "To strengthen surveillance on sites with history of AI outbreak or likelihood of future outbreak (migratory bird sites, animal farm sites)" (11), "To secure a stock of treatment drugs (Tamiflu, etc.) enough for at least 20 percent of the population" (10). Lastly, regarding the question on how to enhance understanding and confidence in the NPRS, a total of 11 opinions were generated through jury discussion. Each juror was thus given six votes and three vetoes. There were 84 total votes and 10 total vetoes used. The expressed opinions were: "To use more public communication through cinemas or TV for the purpose of prevention education" (16 votes), "To create an institutional environment enabling the media to provide sufficient Q information without over/under-reporting" (13), "For the local media and local authorities to provide active education and communication targeting local residents" (11), "To increase citizens' online/offline participation in developing the national pandemic forecasting and response system and in the process of public communication" (10). Conclusion: Implications of the Citizens' Jury on Democracy đ 3 a > This article has analysed deliberative civic engagement with the case of Korea's first citizens' jury. It has examined whether the citizens' jury is effective in resolving the gap between technocracy and citizenry in our technological society. The first PQ citizens' jury in Korea has provided a new insight on deliberative democracy in several different ways, including the selection process of jurors and their role in deliberative democracy. There are several significant implications of Korea's first ever citizens' jury. ^ To begin with, random selection, in this case a stratified random sampling, as opposed to self-selection, is important in that the jurors would be more similar to ordinary citizens: this increases the demographic representation of the jurors. In fact, citizens' participation through random selection was already gaining attention as a viable option against the limitations of representative democracy (Manin 1997; Carson and Martin1999). Fishkin (1991) even called for "deliberative polling," a model of citizens' participation based on random selection, to address the lack of representation in representative democracy. The citizens' jury on the NPRS was organised through random selection in order to preclude several problems in self-section or volunteering process from the beginning; therefore, its composition was quite varied in terms of places of residence, occupations, education, and age. The nature of random selection makes it difficult to induce the utmost dedication from the participants, and the random selection conducted in the citizen's jury is not without areas of concern. Arbitrariness and bias in the jury composition could be avoided to a certain extent through random selection, but a membership of around 15 would be too small to have full demographic representation. Thus for the citizens' jury to become a truly powerful decision-making unit, it should be carefully designed to have the size that is sufficient to claim representation without undermining in-depth deliberation. Only then will the citizens' jury become a powerful institutional basis for public policy-making that can usher in deliberative participatory democracy, not opinion-gathering democracy. Secondly, this citizens' jury implies the possibility of deliberative democracy in the realm of science and technology. We were concerned about the lack of proactive-ness among the jurors in their attitude toward expert testimonies and discussion. However, their attitude changed visibly from the second of the four day sessions. Through the process of small group discussion (among five members) followed by general discussion, the members became friendlier with each other and gained higher understanding of the subject matter. They became much more active in their approach toward expert testimonies and internal discussion. When we asked the participants to fill out a survey form regarding the various aspects of the citizens' jury program during the last day, the result showed that 9 out of 14 responded "Very much so" to the question on whether they were satisfied with the attitude displayed by other citizen jurors, while the remaining 5 answered "Generally so." This is an indirect indicator of the positive evaluation of the citizens themselves of the active participation of fellow citizen jurors. One juror indeed said, "I was not sure about the quality of the citizens' jury because I was selected randomly; however, I was very impressed because participants worked hard during the process." Thirdly, the flip side of the same token proves the significance of the citizens' jury. As time goes by, some of the expert witnesses expressed their surprise at the sharp and to-the-point questions raised by the citizen jurors.15 If such randomly selected citizens lack the ability to deliberate on public policy issues, especially those of technical complexity, and are thus unable to make rational judgments on the topic, the citizens' jury cannot take root as an institution that can strengthen democracy. However, although it would be clearly impossible for ordinary citizens to acquire expert-level technical understanding in a short period of time, the jury's experience proves that even ordinary citizens can participate, with a certain basis of knowledge, in the learning, discussion and decision-making process of highly technical and complex issues if the process of deliberation is designed in a way that can pique their interest. Results of the aforementioned evaluation form appear to support such an assessment. To the question on whether they were familiar with the topic before joining the citizens' jury, only one person responded "Generally so," while nine answered, "Not at all" and four "Generally not so." This shows that they were initially lacking in knowledge on the topic. To the question on whether their knowledge on the topic was enriched through this experience, twelve responded "Very much so," while two answered, "Generally so." This shows that their basis of knowledge was dramatically strengthened through the discussions. Meanwhile, to the question on whether their views regarding the topic have changed after the discussion, nine answered, "Very much so," three responded, "Generally so," while only two picked "Generally not so." This means that there have been considerable changes to the citizen jurors' preferences regarding the issue. The deliberative procedures affect in a significant and positive manner the character of the jury in which they take place. Throughout the meetings, the jurors became more informed than before so that they were willing to shift their opinions in light of new knowledge. It is not dicey to conclude that the changing of their view is connected with the information they learned. In the 21st century, citizens used to giving up control over human affairs to science and technology because they do not understand the complexity of scientific and technological information and evidence. However, the citizens' jury on the NPRS proves that ordinary citizens are capable of dealing with these issues through deliberative democracy. As Isabel correctly observes (2011, 50), "in Habermas's normative model of communication, to deliberate is to engage in society's reason-based dialogue, y oriented toward common understanding, held among all citizens, and free from strategic action (i.e., from the influence of power and money)," and the current form of the citizens' jury exemplifies the high potential to serve deliberative democracy. As Valkenberg (2012, 477-478) argues, "citizens' abilities to exert influence must not depend on their level of science and technology education," because they learn knowledge through civic engagement. Experts are in an advantaged position in technology-related decisions; however, when the system, such as citizens' jury, provides an arrangement for expert to explain and train lay citizens, participants are able to make reliable decisions. Regardless of the fact that the citizens' jury's report is a non-binding policy suggestion, therefore, this form of deliberative democracy implies that informed citizens could provide meaningful policy alternatives. Last but not least, it implies that through their participation as civic jury, par- l-i/HM^Mlf A^v« rtUTi/^ rl n /-»«A /~v4- /^r i- noMi C > ticipants earn civic pride - one of the most significant parts of technological citizenship - and this is very important in conjunction with democracy in our modern society in which science and technology become further significant. We spent days and nights with the citizen jurors and were able to observe them in formal and informal settings and listen to what they say with full attention, and we perceived that their level of understanding, concentration and discussion ability went up considerably over time. Indeed, the jurors themselves were seen to feel quite proud of such change. One of the questions in the evaluation form was whether there have LH been any changes in their views regarding citizens' participation in the process of national policy discussion. Only one responded, "my views changed more toward the negative than positive," while seven answered, "my views became fully positive," and six chose, "my views changed more toward the positive than negative." This can be understood as an expression of their pride in the development of their deliberative ability. This point is well illustrated by the following statement written by a participant in his evaluation of the citizens' jury. When I decided to participate in the citizens' jury, which is a new and unfamiliar concept to me, I was worried and skeptical about what I can do with no expert knowledge or whether I can have any influence on something as big as policy recommendations. However, when we produced our policy recommendations to the government after listening to expert presentations, asking questions, and discussing with other ordinary citizens like myself, I felt proud as a citizen of a nation. I believe that being able to voice our views through such opportunity would be one shortcut to future development, and I hope that the government and the private sector would more actively develop such a program (Lee 2009). This means that the citizens' jury has demonstrated that through a systematic deliberation process, citizens with no expert knowledge can develop deliberative ability to make judgments on somewhat complex technical issues. Meanwhile, it is not perfect, we believe that this citizens' jury is a relatively good democratic system because it proves the display and understanding of differences and non-alignment among the participants that are revealed through deliberations. The goal of this citizens' jury was not to drive toward a unified opinion, but it was designed to highlight even the minor differences in the jurors' views through surveys, list of opinions, discussions and final voting. When we asked the question on how to improve the NPRS, they came up with numerous ideas, and even after filtering them out through intensive discussions, 25 independent views still remained. This is a good case in point of the diverging views of the jurors being fully respected. As Barnes (1999) argued, the success of the program should be judged not by whether decisions were made by the participants' agreement, but on whether the deliberative mechanism was designed in a way to help reveal and understand the differences and non-alignment between them. This is a cause to beware of on reaching an agreement, as it can end up hampering the deliberative process by creating tacit pressure that could suppress differences between the participants. From this point of view, the citizens' jury we analyse appears to have democratic implications, because the citizen's jury is designed to reveal the differences and non-alignment among the participating citizens . Acknowledgement This work was supported by the National Research Foundation of Korea Grant funded by the Korean Government (NRF-2013S1A3A2054849). Notes: 1. Hundreds of thousands of Koreans rallied daily in Seoul in May 2008, because the government decided to reimport beef from the U.S.in April. The Korean market had been shut for the past four and a half years following the first US case of mad cow disease in 2003. 2. Fuller (2000) calls such science and technology studies based on practical approaches "Low Church," in differentiation from "High Church" that focuses more on the academic approach to science and technology such as epistemology on scientific and technological knowledge. Generally the Low Church school sees STS as Science, Technology, and Society while the High Church school uses it as Science and Technology Studies. The concept of technological citizenship in this paper would be in line with the traditions of the Low Church STS. 3. Parentheses indicate the leading examples of each method. 4. Although polling and voting involve provision of information to help citizens determine their preferences, they are categorised as "preference gathering" since the given information does not guarantee a process of deliberation. 5. Citizens' jury is actively used in many parts of the world in order to review some issues, such as water quality in agriculture and bioethics. For the experience in the UK, see Barnes (1999) and Rogers-Hayden and Pidgeon (2006). For Australian cases, see Goodin and Niemeyer (2003), and for a Canadian case, see Johns and Einsiedel (2011). For a general assessment of citizens' jury, see Smith and Wales (2000). 6. Technology assessment is one of the technology policies for social integration where the positive and negative impact of technology on human beings, society, culture, politics, and economy is assessed beforehand to minimise any negativity. It is more regulatory toward technology than enabling, and its institutionalisation indicates a process of technology politics. For the history of technology assessment in Korea see Lee (2007). 7. In the Korean context, there had been a number of cases of citizens' participation under the title of "citizens' jury," such as the "Citizens' jury on protection of human genetic information" held in 2001, "Citizens' jury on facility to turn food waste into resources" held in 2004, and the "Citizens' jury on late-night electricity regime" held in 2007. But the citizens' jury in all three cases cannot be called a true citizens' jury, given that the recruitment method was not random sampling: it was by nomination or volunteering. The citizens' jury on the NPRS in 2008 was the first of its kind in Korea to be based on random selection. 8. When the government started this citizens' jury project, one of the two authors of this article, took a role as project manager and organised the jury, led the discussions, collected the data, and made the report to the government. Therefore, he was in a position to observe the entire process of the country's first citizens' jury. In this first citizens' jury, the researcher who was a project manager participated in the process as the observer, hence, generated more complete understanding of the group's activities. Since validity is stronger with the use of additional strategies used with observation, such as interviewing, surveys, or questionnaires (Kawulich 2005), the project management team also used survey research with participants at the end of the work. The major questions are about their experience as a jury, their understanding of the process, and their recommendations to the future forms of the citizens' jury. 9. A total of five members were appointed in the advisory committee (1 social sciences expert, 2 medical experts, 1 healthcare NGO expert and 1 KISTEP member). Eight experts who deliver lectures to the jury and answer their questions during deliberation were selected out of the advisory committee's nominations. They were experts representing government's health authorities, academia, and NGOs, including Doctors' Council for Humanitarianism. 10. Since there were only a few empirical studies showing the selection process by the random sampling, we cannot explain whether the reply rate here (2.1 percent) is too small or not; however, one particular empirical study conducted in the Netherlands in 2007 also showed only a 3 percent of reply rate in the first attempt out of 2,000 samples, and 6 percent out of 4,700 samples in the second attempt (Huitema 2007). Regardless of its low rate, therefore, we are sure that it can certainly be a part of random sampling, because the poll of participants were selected by the researchers, instead of volunteers. In random sampling, potential participants contacted select U S 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (I) 0 C i KD m themselves whether they participate in the process or not, which is unavoidable; however, since they were firstly contacted by the researchers, it was not self-selection. 11. Both of those who pulled out of the final citizens' jury were men, and participants were paid US$400. 12. In the U.S. or UK the citizens' jury is normally held during the week; however, Media Research was concerned that if it was held during the week almost no one would be able to participate. 13. This method of creating a list of opinions on the subject, going through deliberations, then converging the opinion through voting was used by the Danish Board of Technology (2005) at the citizens' jury on genetically modified crops. 14. The total number of opinions submitted by the jurors was 47 in the beginning. Through mutual discussion, they narrowed them down to 25, having consolidated similar ones. The process of narrowing down the opinions itself could be seen as the process of deliberation. 15. One of the factors that enabled such sharpness of the citizen jurors' questions appears to be the meeting format where expert witnesses with opposing views regarding the same issue conducted presentations. It seems that through such competing presentations, the jurors were able to get a better understanding of the subject and attained the ability to conduct a type of cross examination on expert witnesses. References: Awad, Isabel. 2011. Critical Multiculturalism and Deliberative Democracy: Opening Spaces for More Inclusive Communication. Javnost - The Public 18, 3, 39-54. Barnes, Marian. 1999. Building a Deliberative Democracy: An Evaluation of Two Citizens' Juries. Institute for Public Policy Research. Carson, Lyn, and Brin Martin. 1999. Random Selection in Politics. London: Praeger. Chun, Byung Chul. 2007. Epidemiology of the Avian Influenza and New Influenza Pandemic. Korean Journal of Public Health 44, 1, 27-40. The Danish Board of Technology. 2005. New GM Plants: The Final Document of the Citizens' Jury. Davis, Mike. 2005. The Monster at Our Door: The Global Threat of Avian Flu. New York: The New Press. Davison, Aidan, Ian Barns and Renato Schibeci. 1997. 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Political Studies 48, 1, 51-65. Tutui, Viorel. 2011. Democratic Deliberation Procedures: Theoretical and Practical Issues. Argumentum: Journal the Seminar of Discursive Logic, Argumentation Theory & Rhetoric 9, 1, 121-134. Valkenberg, Govert. 2012. Sustainable Technological Citizenship. European Journal of Social Theory 15, 4, 471-487. INJECTING IMMEDIACY INTO MEDIA LOGIC (RE)INTERPRETING THE MEDIATISATION OF POLITICS ON UK TELEVISION NEWSCASTS 1991-2013 Abstract This study of UK evening newscasts (1991-2013) interprets the degree to which political news has become mediatised, drawing on the concept of journalistic interventionism to explore edited and live conventions. News examined generally offered little evidence of mediatisation. But when live news was isolated and interpreted over time the study found newscasts were injected with a logic of immediacy, adopting a level of interventionism apparent in instant and rolling news formats. To better understand the mediatisation of politics, future studies could experiment more by theorising different media logics and developing more format specific content indicators that reflect broader influences in journalism. stephen cushion Stephen Cushion is Senior Lecturer and Director of MA in Political Communication, Cardiff School of Journalism, Media and Cultural Studies, Cardiff University; e-mail: CushionSA@cardiff.ac.uk. m Cfi m d CP ro o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (fl 0 C Ì Ch m Introduction In many advanced Western democracies, academic debates about the changing nature of political journalism often focus on the role of political actors, considering the extent to which they shape, inform and participate in political coverage. For it has been claimed politicians and political parties have become less significant agents in media coverage, with their voices and views increasingly downgraded or even marginalised in routine reporting. Correspondingly, it is journalists themselves - identified as "media actors" - who have apparently gained greater traction, increasingly thrust into the limelight and expected to not only report the actions of politicians but to make sense of their decisions, behaviour and motivations. When interpreting the increasing reliance on media rather than political actors, scholars have broadly characterised this trend as the mediatisation of politics, a "process" - Strömbäck (2008, 241) argues - "through which the important question involving the independence of the media from politics and society concludes with the independence of politics and society from the media." Or, put another way, a mediatisation of politics is displayed when a media logic supersedes political logic in editorial decisions about reporting politics. According to Esser (2013), political logic represents the production of policy by political actors, how these are publicised and how the polity - such as electoral systems - shape the way politics is conducted and news reported. Media logic, by contrast, privileges journalistic norms and routines including professional, commercial and technological factors that influence how politics is reported. The theoretical merits of each have been the subject of recent scholarly posturing, since they can be conceptualised in a multiplicity of ways delivering competing logics rather than a singular, uniform logic (see Landerer 2013). Informed by these conceptual debates, this study focuses on the empirical ways in which the mediatisation of politics has been operationalised. It will do so by examining UK evening television newscasts - which, despite online competition, remain y the most widely consumed format of news - on the BBC and ITV from 1991-2013 in order to ask whether political news has become mediatised according to well established content indicators. While previous mediatisation of politics studies have explored cross-national differences or between public service and market-driven systems, the UK's broadcast ecology offers a more nuanced comparative inquiry. For it has a wholesale public service broadcaster, the BBC, and commercial public service broadcasters - such as ITV - which are subject to strict regulation to ensure high standards of journalism. The concept of journalistic interventionism is drawn upon in the study to understand how different television conventions were used to convey the voices the relative weight granted to both actors, the wider culture of journalism and its impact on television news conventions has arguably not been central to how mediatisation indicators have been operationalised. Over the last twenty to thirty years, there has been a rise in instant, rolling and online news, promoting greater immediacy in the delivery of news and culture of journalism. Against this backdrop, the aim is to examine how far fixed-time evening newscasts have been influenced ^ by 24-hour news culture by examining the extent to which news is edited or live, and asking whether it is just coverage of politics or news generally that is subject to greater immediacy in routine coverage. Before explaining the methodological approach of the study, a discussion about how the mediatisation of news and politics has previously been examined is necessary. In doing so, a number of hypotheses will be outlined and interpreted in the context of ongoing debates in journalism studies and political communication. Interpreting the Mediatisation of Politics: Editing the Views of Politicians and Journalists To interpret the degree to which a political over a media logic is subscribed to in media coverage of politics, scholars have long examined how and to what extent politicians and political parties routinely are used as sources. This has become known as a soundbite, an onscreen source capturing the continuous view of a politician. In many advanced Western democracies, but notably in the US, studies have shown a decline in the length of soundbites, with most research focussed upon election campaigns. Hallin's (1992, 5) longitudinal study of Presidential elections (1968-1988) found political soundbites had shrunk from 43 to 9 seconds, a finding interpreted as "a general shift in the style of television news toward a more mediated, journalist-centred form of journalism." Other empirical studies have not only confirmed soundbites remain at a similar if not reduced length into the 1990s and 2000s in the US and other countries (Patterson 2000; Farnsworth and Litcher 2007; Esser 2008; Grabe and Bucy 2008), but also that a longitudinal decline in politicians' voices dates back well over a century (Ryfe and Kemmelmeier 2011). Of course, increasingly sophisticated technology has enhanced the capabilities of producers being able to edit brief soundbites more easily within a packaged news item (Hallin 1988). As technology has improved, a different approach to studying how politicians shape coverage has been pursued, shifting debates from soundbites to imagebites, where a politician appears in an television news package even if he or she does not necessarily speak. So, for example, Grabe and Bucy (2008, 78) examined Presidential election coverage between 1992 and 2004 and discovered that while the average length of candidates' soundbites declined over time, the onscreen appearances of political actors actually increased, reflecting, in their words, an "increasingly visual and journalist-centred news environment." Esser' s (2008) cross-national study of the use of soundbites and imagebites in election coverage between 2004-7 led him to conclude that the US had a strongly interventionist way of interpreting politics, a moderately interventionist Anglo-German approach and a noninterventionist French approach. This conclusion was reached based not only on the degree to which politicians' voices and visuals were mediated (by their relative length, for example), but how ostensibly active journalists were in news making (by appearing onscreen and speaking to camera). Indeed, the visibility of journalists in political news has become a measure to interpret how far politics is mediatised in comparative research. Strömbäck and Dimitrova (2011) examined US and Swedish election newscasts and identified a far higher level of mediatisation present in American journalism. This was explained by the more commercialised media system in the US - which encourages greater involvement from journalists and editorialising of content - than in Sweden, where coverage is regulated more closely under public service safeguards. Nevertheless, as Esser (2008) identified in his cross-national study, irrespective of different media systems between countries, there is evidence of a transnational convergence - of shrinking soundbites, enhanced imagebites and greater journalistic autonomy on display - across the US and European countries. Based on a review of previous literature, in this study it is anticipated that the following hypotheses will be confirmed: H1a: The length of soundbites (onscreen sources) will decrease over time in political news. H1b: The use of onscreen soundbites and offscreen sources (sources journalists refer to but do not appear onscreen) will decrease over time in political news. H2a: The length of imagebites (when politicians appear visually) will increase over time in political news. H2b: The use of imagebites (when politicians appear visually) will increase over time in political news. H3: The visibility of journalists (onscreen) will increase over time in political news. Interpreting the Mediatisation of News: Enhancing the Speed and Liveness of Political Reporting In Strömbäck and Dimitrova's (2011) study of US and Swedish election news coverage, they used various measures - of soundbites, journalists talking over politicians, framing politics as a strategic game and the role and visibility of journalists - to measure the degree to which political coverage is mediatised in each country. They concluded, however, by acknowledging that these "are not by any means the only possible indicators, and through further theorising more indicators should be identified, integrated, operationalised, and tested. To do so is an important task for the future research on the mediatisation of politics" (Strömbäck and Dimitrova 2011, 44). The aim of this study is to do precisely this by considering how the conventions used in television journalism shape the degree to which political news is mediatised. At first glance, interpreting the mediatisation of media might sound a somewhat tautological proposition. But what is being analysed here is how far fixed time evening newscasts are being influenced by the wider culture of news delivery, such as dedicated news channels or instantly accessed rolling news J websites and social media platforms. In other words, the character of journalism has changed, but how has this affected fixed-time newscasts? Of course, the culture of journalism has always been preoccupied with delivering the latest news with pressures - from print to broadcast media - on time and space. Over the last twenty to thirty years, however, many scholars have argued that the pace of broadcast journalism has been accelerated by the growth of 24hour news channels and, more recently, online news and social media platforms. ^ Put differently, whereas once audiences had to wait for news to be delivered - in a newspaper, say, or an evening newscast - today it is instantly available making it editorially important to bring news "as it happens." Of course, technology that delivers immediacy has improved dramatically in recent decades, making it far easier for broadcasters to "go live" and report on location. As a consequence of the 24-hour news culture, political actors in particular have had to respond to events -as the CNN-effect posited in the 1990s - and the news value of speed has become increasingly central to contemporary political journalism. 0 £ i C > However, there is little longitudinal evidence about the degree to which fixed-time evening newscasts - and news about politics specifically - have actually PO been affected by the broader culture of 24-hour news over time. A 1999 study of local US television news identified more live than edited news in newscasts on 24 stations, while a cross-national study in 2012 discovered the US and UK especially had a greater volume of live news than in Norway, where dedicated 24-hour news channels are in their relative infancy (Cushion et al 2014a). But how far have newscasts changed over time remains to be seen. So, for example, while scholars have observed that the pace of journalism has increased (Gitlin 1987; Hallin 1994), there is no systematic evidence about whether this has resulted in shorter news items being dealt with in less depth. As scholars have examined the changing culture of journalism over time, a shift towards more interpretive political news has been evidenced. Rather than simply describing or relying on external sources, interpretive news means journalists being more actively involved in making political sense of events, issues and debates (Sal-gado and Strömbäck 2012). Several studies have shown this is most strikingly on display at election time, such as Steele and Barnhurst's (1996) study of US network Presidential coverage between 1968-1998, which identified that factual reporting declined from close to a quarter of all coverage to just 2.4 percent. Conversely, journalists analysing election news in several countries has increased over recent campaigns, challenging the spin of politicians and interpreting their statements and behaviour (Semetko et al 1991; Deacon and Wring 2011). Television journalists, in short, appear to be more central actors in political reporting, notably in live news, with less space for politicians to air their views. Based on a review of previous literature, this study thus expects the following hypotheses to be supported: H4a: Both political news and non-political news items will have more live reporting over time, but the percentage increase for live political news will be greater. H4b: Both political news items and non-political news items will become shorter over time, but political news items will become shorter than non-political items. H5: Fewer sources will appear in live political items than in edited political news items, and this gap will grow over time. H6: Over time political reporting will become less descriptive and more interpretive in live political news items. Finally, having reviewed a wide range empirical studies cross-nationally, many of the conclusions reached suggested market forces exacerbated the degree to which political news is mediatised (Strömbäck and Dimitrova 2011). In other words, the type of media logic this study anticipates to find in UK newscasts over time - of shorter but faster news reporting, enhanced live and more interpretive political news, with less external sources shaping coverage - have been broadly understood by scholars as a consequence of commercialisation. Since this study is comparative - comparing commercial and public service media systems - it might thus be expected that the latter resists market influence whereas the former more readily succumbs to the characteristics of mediatisation. The last hypothesis of the study overall predicts that: H7: The commercial broadcaster will support to a greater degree H1-H6 compared to the public service broadcaster. Journalistic Interventionism and Operationalising Mediatisation: Method and Sample To interpret the mediatisation of political news in UK newscasts over recent decades, the concept of journalistic interventionism was drawn upon. It has been used mostly in election research, where the "discretionary power" (Semetko et al 1991, 4) of the media is interpreted by whether news outlets follow the party agendas or journalistically pursue their own agenda. Or, put differently, it conveys how interventionist a journalist is in reporting politics and public affairs. However, this study's analytical approach moves beyond election campaigns and considers how news generally and political news specifically was routinely reported. It does it by treating television news conventions as journalistic interventions because they can be interpreted as conscious editorial decisions about how to report a news story. Based on extensive piloting in other projects (Cushion and Thomas 2013; Cushion et al 2014a, 2014b), four types of journalistic interventions were classified: (1) edited packages, where a reporter films on location and sends back a package to be edited; (2) anchors presenting an item, often with a still or moving image in the backdrop; (3) a studio discussion, where the anchor and reporter discuss a news story within the studio; (4) and finally, a reporter live on location speaking just to camera or in a live two-way exchange with the anchor. Taken together, the interventions reflect, on the one hand, a closely edited and scripted format (1-2) and, on the other hand, a more live and improvised approach to news, with journalists playing a more active role in reporting (3-4). While the latter reflects the logic inherent in fixed-time newscasts - where, in its original formation, it was designed to be a service that edited and considered the whole day's news - the latter can be seen to embody a logic more consistent with rolling news, delivering live news "as it happens" (as many 24-hour news channels or online blogs claim). A quantitative content analysis of BBC and ITV early evening newscasts was carried out over three constructed weeks (Monday-Friday) in 1991/2, 1999, 2004 and 2013.1 The BBC is a wholesale public service broadcaster (in its UK operations), funded by a license fee whereas ITV is a commercial public service broadcaster, with a license agreement that legally obliges them to regularly schedule news programming and adhere to strict regulatory guidelines. This comparative dimen-J sion to the study thus asks whether the more commercialised newscast exhibits a greater degree of mediatisation - as the prevailing literature suggested - than the wholesale public broadcaster. Using the four types of journalistic interventions as the unit of analysis, 1484 items were examined overall. But this N was split into two subsamples of non-political items (N = 1117) and political items (N = 367). The operational definition of "political" items included not only parliamentary news (in Westminster, or other ^ political institutions) but also international news (wars and diplomatic events) when political actors were involved. "Non-political" items were defined by anything other than political items. This allowed the type and changing lengths of political journalistic interventions - the primary focus of this study - to be compared with how news generally is reported. In other words, how interventionist is political reporting compared to all news and has television journalism changed over time? However, the subsample of political items was also analysed in more detail, using ^ previous mediatisation indicators outlined in the literature review. This included 0 £ i C > quantifying the volume of onscreen sources, the length of these soundbites,2 as well as the frequency of offscreen sources (e.g. references made by journalists to external sources). In addition, the volume and length of imagebites were recorded, measuring if and for how long a politician appeared onscreen in edited news. To explore the role of journalists in more detail, the study first asked whether a reporter was onscreen in a news item or not. It then - in all live news and political news -examined whether the primary purpose of going live was to provide an interpretive or more descriptive approach to reporting. To do so a previously piloted study was drawn upon that explored the value of live reporting (Cushion and Thomas 2013). It coded if a live news item's purpose was to 1) supply interpretation; 2) deliver the latest developments 3) report from a specific location; 4) to introduce an edited package. While there is some overlap in these different approaches, the primary value of live reporting was interpreted. The content analysis was coded by two UK researchers and according to clearly defined operational definitions that were regularly discussed in team meetings to ensure consistency. Approximately 10 percent of the sample was recoded and Cohen's Kappa (k) - a relatively conservative inter-coder reliability test - was used to evaluate the consistency of coding. Cohen (1960) interprets Kappa co-efficients in the following ways: < 0 indicate less than chance agreement, 0.01-0.20 Slight agreement, 0.21-0.40 Fair agreement, 0.41-0.60 Moderate agreement, 0.61-0.80 Substantial agreement and 0.81-0.99 Almost perfect agreement. All measures used in the study reached substantial or almost perfect agreement between coders. The study posed three overall research questions: 1. Has political news become more interventionist than non-political news between 1991 and 2013? 2. To what extent has political news become mediatised in edited or live television news coverage between 1991 and 2013? 3. To what extent is political and non-political news interventionist and political news mediatised on the wholesale public service broadcaster compared to the commercial public service broadcaster between 1991 and 2013? Look Who's Talking: Politicians or Journalists? Contrary to the prevailing trends in previous academic studies, Table 1 shows that while there were fluctuations over time (notably on ITV where soundbites dipped to 9 seconds in 2004), the average length of soundbites on both channels remained steady and was at its highest peak in 2013 (16 seconds on the BBC compared to 14 seconds on ITV). Table 1: Mean Average Length (M) and Standard Deviation (SD) of Soundbites and Imagebites Used in Political News on UK Evening Television Newscasts 1991-2103 1991/2 1999 2004 2013 BBC soundbites M = 15 secs, SD = 7, N = 141 M = 12 secs, SD = 7, N = 73 M= 16 secs, SD = 10, N = 36 M = 16 secs, SD = 18, N = 115 ITV soundbites M = 13 secs, SD = 8, N = 76 M = 11 secs, SD = 4, N = 77 M = 9 secs, SD = 6, N = 64 M = 14 secs, SD = 8, N = 108 BBC imagebites M= 15 secs, SD = 9 M = 10 secs, SD = 8 M = 17 secs, SD = 9 M = 16 secs, SD = 9 ITV imagebites M = 13 secs, SD = 9 M = 13 secs, SD = 7 M = 9 secs, SD = 4 M = 13 secs, SD = 9 H1a was clearly rejected as the length of onscreen sources had not declined over time. While there was lukewarm support for H7 - that onscreen sources decreased more on the commercial broadcaster - since it dipped to 9 seconds in 2004, by 2013 the differences were less striking (2 seconds). Because the volume of political news items was different each year (see Table 3 below), it is important to interpret the ratio of sources per item. In this respect, Table 2 shows that while the BBC has gradually reduced the volume of sources per item over time, ITV's pattern is more mixed, with a sharp drop recorded in 2004, but a rise in 2013 to the same level as 1991/2. Table 2: Ratio of Sources (Onscreen) in Political News per Average News Item on UK Evening Television Newscasts 1991-2013 1991/2 1999 2004 2013 BBC 2.4 1.8 1.7 1.9 ITV 1.9 2.1 1.2 1.9 Thus, H1b was confirmed to some degree on BBC newscasts, but on ITV a decline was only recorded in 2004. Contrary to H7, it can be concluded that it is the public service broadcaster - not a commercial competitor - that witnessed a decline in sources per item in political news. However, ITV had the lowest level of sources per item (in 2004) and by 2013 had the same ratio as the BBC. Since there was a marginal decline in the use of sources, it might be expected that the length of imagebites - where political sources visually appear onscreen - could have increased as more airtime would be available. However, according to Table 1, imagebites followed no uniform pattern and in 1991/2 and 2013 they were the same average length on both channels (again, with the biggest dip on ITV in 2004). Where a clearer pattern emerged is in the average use of imagebites in political news items over time. On the BBC in 1991/2 71.2 percent of political items contained an y imagebite, compared to 26.8 percent in 1999, 38.1 percent in 2004 and 35.6 percent in 2013. Precisely half of political news items on ITV in 1991/2 had an imagebite, by contrast, dropping to 32.4 percent in 1999, 32.7 percent in 2004 and rising again to 48.3 percent in 2013. It can be concluded, then, that H2a was not confirmed because the length of imagebites did not increase over time in political news. Further still, H2b was also rejected as the use of imagebites did not increase - in fact its use as a proportion of all political news reduced over time, notably on the BBC when 0 close to three quarters of coverage contained an imagebite. Finally, there was little evidence to support H7, with the use of imagebites similar on both broadcasters. A measure used to indicate journalists becoming more central in television news reporting is their onscreen visibility. The BBC featured a journalist onscreen in just over half of all political news items (55.9 percent) in 1991/2, dropping to 40 percent in 1999 but increasing to 85 percent and 76.1 percent in 2004 and 2013 respectively. On ITV, by contrast, close to two thirds of political news items in 1991/2 had a visible journalist (65 percent), with their onscreen appearances then increasing steadily (72.7 percent in 1999, 75.5 percent in 2004 and 82.5 percent in 2013). Overall, then, H3 was broadly confirmed in that the visibility of journalists in newscasts had increased over time. However, the BBC's increase was somewhat unidirectional C > \D (with a small reduction from 2004 to 2013). While the visibility of ITV's journalists had uniformly increased over time, the visibility of journalists on both broadcasters post-millennium was remarkably similar, offering little support for H7. The focus now turns to exploring the changing nature of journalism more generally in order to examine the differences between political and non-political news reporting. As previously explained, television conventions were interpreted as "journalistic interventions," editorial decisions that show the degree to which news is edited and scripted rather than live and more improvised. Or, put differently, examining the type of journalistic interventions pursued over time provided an insight into whether the media logic of newscasts had changed, from editing the day's news to adopting more live news "as it happens." Live vs. Edited Media Logic: Towards More Journalistic Interventionism? In political and non-political items edited television news coverage was overwhelmingly dominant on both channels pre-millennium (see Tables 3 and 4). On the BBC, for example, 97.9 percent of political news was made up of reporter packages in 1991/2, slightly higher than non-political items (93.4 percent). By 1999 packaged political news declined by over 10 percent (85.7 percent) compared to a much smaller drop in non-political news (89.9 percent). ITV, by contrast, had a broadly similar level of packaged news in 1991/2 and 1999 in both political and non-political news (89-91.1 percent). The role of anchors, meanwhile, barely featured in the presentation of politics on either channels between 1991-1999 (0.4-1.9 percent). Coverage changed most strikingly after the new millennium, when the proportion of live news - notably in political reporting - increased substantially on both channels. So, for example, in live BBC reporting political news beyond the studio accounted for 28.3 percent of all coverage in 2004 and 19.6 percent in 2013, well above non-political news (11.7 percent and 9.3 percent respectively). If live political news included a discussion within a studio format - a relatively new BBC format - the proportion of live news in 2013 was not far behind its peak in 2004 (23.8 percent). Meanwhile ITV's live on location reporting of politics also increased substantially in 2004 (27.7 percent), although this dropped (15.1 percent) in 2013. Once again, if live studio discussion was included, the proportion of live news rose to almost 30 percent in 2004 and 19.5 percent in 2013. In both years - most strikingly in 2004 - political news was reported live more than non-political news. It can thus be concluded that while live political news declined between 2004 and 2013, between 1991-2013 H4a was confirmed because live political news not only increased over time, it had to a greater degree than in non-political news. H7, however, was rejected, with the rise of live news similar on both media systems. But how has the shape and character of these different journalistic interventions over successive decades changed and is political news distinctive from all news? With the exception of ITV in 2004 (by just 3 seconds), political news was routinely longer in length than non-political items. Excluding ITV's bulletin in 1991/2 (as it only lasted 15 minutes), the average length of political news items on both channels between 1999-2013 did not dramatically change (increasing by 10 seconds on ITV and decreasing by 16 seconds on the BBC). Table 3: Percent of Time Spent on Journalistic Interventions, Average Mean Length (M) and Standard Deviation (SD) in BBC Television Newscasts in Political and Non-political News Items 1991-2013 1991/92 1999 2004 2013 Pre edited Reporter package (politics) 97.9 %, M = 2 minutes and 29 seconds, SD = 49 seconds 85.7 %, M = 2 minutes and 7 seconds, SD = 32 seconds 71.2 %, M = 2 minutes and 48 seconds, SD = 1 minute and 2 seconds 74.2 %, M = 2 mins 54 secs, SD = 1 minute and 10 seconds Reporter package (non- politics) 93.4 %, M = 2 minutes and 9 seconds, SD = 23 seconds 89.9 %, M = 1 minute and 57 seconds, SD = 35 seconds 80.5 %, M = 2 minutes and 15 seconds, SD = 38 seconds 83.2 %, M = 2 mins 28 secs, SD = 34 Combined anchor only, image and package (politics) 0.6 %, M = 25 seconds, SD = 7 seconds 1.9 %, M = 16 seconds, SD = 4 seconds 0.5 %, 12 seconds 1.4 %, M = 26 secs, 15 SD Combined anchor only, image and package (non-politics) 4 %, M = 27 seconds, SD = 23 seconds 3.9 %, M = 23 seconds, SD = 14 seconds 7.8 %, M = 25 seconds, SD = 27 seconds 5.8 %, M = 22 seconds, SD = 7 Live news Combined Reporter/ anchor 2-way and reporter live (politics) 1.5 %, M = 2 minutes and 7 seconds 12.4 %, M = 1m 16 seconds, SD = 31 seconds 28.3 %, M = 1 minute and 22 seconds, SD = 22 seconds 19.6 %, M = 1 minute and 13 seconds, SD = 49 Combined Reporter/ anchor 2-way and reporter live (non-politics) 2.6 %, M = 1 minute and 40 seconds, SD = 43 seconds 5.8 %, M = 1 minute and 14 seconds, SD = 26 seconds 11.7 %, M = 49 seconds, SD = 28 seconds 9.3 %, M = 47 seconds, SD = 27 Anchor reporter discussion/ studio discussion (politics) / / / 4.2 %, M = 1 minute and 45 seconds, SD = 17 Anchor reporter discussion/ studio discussion (non-politics) / 0.4 %, 1 minute and 4 seconds / 1.6 %, M = 61 seconds, SD = 32 Total politics N 59 41 21 59 Total non-politics N 140 182 212 118 I * (I) 0 C i 00 But while, on the face of it, the structure of political news may appeared to have altered little over time, it is important to interpret the type of edited and live journalistic interventions used to routinely report politics in television newscasts. Or, put differently, what specific media logic drives political coverage over time? Tables 3 and 4 showed that the type of intervention used to report a news story - whether an anchor only item, an edited package or a live two-way - brought considerable differences in terms of its length. On both broadcasters, for example, the role of anchors in story-telling was consistently short (12-32 seconds long). Moreover, political items presented by anchors appeared much less frequently than non-political news items and tended to be shorter. Edited packages, however, played Table 4: Percent of Time Spent on Journalistic Interventions, Average Mean Length (M) and Standard Deviation (SD) in ITV Television Newscasts in Political q\ and Non-political News Items 1991-2013 1991/92 1999 2004 2013 Pre edited Reporter package (politics) 89 %, M = 1 minute and 48 seconds, SD = 36 seconds 90.1 %, M = 2 minutes and 9 seconds, SD = 31 seconds 69.8 %, M = 2 minute and 30 seconds, SD = 41 seconds 80.6 %, M = 2 minute and 32 secs, SD = 40 Reporter package (non- politics) 89.5 %, M = 1 minute and 39 seconds, SD = 32 seconds 89.7 %, M = 1 minute and 57 seconds, SD = 40 seconds 75 %, M = 2 minute and 8 seconds, SD = 44 seconds 75.8 %, M = 2 minutes and 17 seconds, SD = 51 Combined anchor only, image and package (politics) / 0.4 %, M = 19 seconds 0.3 %, M = 14 seconds / Combined anchor only, image and package (non-politics) 1.9 %, M = 23 seconds, SD = 16 seconds 5.3 %, M = 24 seconds, SD = 22 seconds 0.7 %, M = 32 seconds, SD = 9 seconds 1.5 %, M = 19 secs, SD = 6 Live news Combined Reporter/ anchor 2-way and reporter live (politics) 11 %, M = 1 minute and 3 seconds, SD = 14 seconds 8.9 %, M = 1 minute and 3 seconds, SD = 15 seconds 27.7 %, M = 47 seconds, SD = 25 seconds 15.1 %, M = 1 minute and 9 seconds, SD = 22 Combined Reporter/ anchor 2-way and reporter live (non-politics) 8.6 %, M = 1 minute and 7 seconds, SD = 20 seconds 4.2 %, M = 1 minute and 11 seconds, SD = 23 seconds 14.4 %, M = 43 seconds, SD = 22 seconds 10 %, M = 54 secs, SD = 19 Anchor reporter discussion/ studio discussion (politics) / / 2.2 %, M = 1 minute and 43 seconds 4.4 %, M = 1 minute and 47 seconds, SD = 8 Anchor reporter discussion/ studio discussion (non-politics) / 0.8 %, 1 minute and 35 seconds 9.9 %, M = 1 minute and 19 seconds, SD = 49 seconds 6.9 %, M = 1 minute and 28 seconds, SD = 26 Total politics N 40 37 52 58 Total non-politics N 96 125 153 91 a more central role. But the average political news and non-political edited package news item on the BBC has remained remarkably consistent between 1991-2013 (approximately 2.07-2.54 minutes long (although the SD post-millennium is higher) and 1.57-2.28 minutes long respectively. Excluding ITV's 1991/2 edited packages coverage was broadly similar from 1999-2013 (for political news items 2.09-2.32 minutes long and non-political news items 1.57-2.17). Most striking on both channels was that edited political news was consistently longer than non-political news. Since the volume of live political news increased over time, it is of course difficult to interpret how the mean length of interventions such as two-ways have changed. So, for example, the one BBC live political item in 1991/2 lasted 2 minutes and 7 seconds and since then it averaged similar lengths (from 1.13-1.22 minutes long). Non-political BBC news, however, was shorter in length (from 47 seconds to 1.40 minutes). ITV's average live political news dipped considerably to just 47 seconds in 2004 compared to over a minute (1.03-1.09) every other year. Its live non-political news, however, from 1999-2013 was comparatively shorter in length (43 seconds to 1.11 minutes). With the exception of ITV in 1999, live political news was consistently longer than non-political news on both channels. Overall, then, H4b can be rejected because it was not political items that became shorter in length over time, but non-political news (in 2013 to less than a minute in live two-ways on both broadcasters). At the same time, however, it is important to interpret the changing nature of political news in the context of coverage overall. For while the data suggested little had changed in terms of the average length of edited or live political news, Tables 3 and 4 also showed that news generally - and political news particularly - was increasingly going live. In other words, political news has become shorter over time simply because more live journalistic interventions are being used to report routine politics on the evening bulletins. To make sense of the editorial consequences of selecting live over edited journalistic interventions in political news reporting, the analysis now examines the use of sources and role of reporters in political news alone. For the sources - both onscreen and offscreen - used to inform live reporting as opposed to edited news have not been compared. Table 5 indicates the ratio of sources per items in the two dominant journalistic interventions - edited news packages and live reporter/two-ways - between 1991-2013. Table 5: Ratio of Onscreen and Offscreen Sources to Edited Packages and Two- way/reporter Live on BBC and ITV Evening Television Newscasts 1991-2013 £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (I) 0 C i o LO BBC ITV Edited package Two-way/ reporter live Edited package Two-way/ reporter live 1991/2 4.1 2 3.7 1.4 1999 4.1 0.9 5.2 1 2004 4.3 0.3 5.3 1 2013 5.6 1.6 3.5 1.6 While there was a little variation in the use of sources on both broadcasters over recent decades, there was consistently close to 4 sources or more (3.5-5.6) in reporter packages. Two-ways/reporter live interventions, by contrast, had considerably less sources on average, typically no more than 1 per item and considerably less on the BBC in 2004. H5 is thus clearly confirmed with less sources drawn upon in live rather than edited political news. However, H7 was not supported as the public and commercial media systems follow a similar sourcing pattern between 1991-2013. Since live political news was not reliant on external sources in evening bulletins, the final part of the study examined the purpose - according to criteria explained in the method section - of reporting live during a newscast. Of the few live political items in 1991/2, both broadcasters used the live two-way to exclusively interpret politics. In 1999 the BBC interpreted live political news to the same degree as intro- ducing an edited packaged (42.9 percent), whereas on ITV 60 percent of political news was interpretive. In 2004 the BBC enhanced its interpretation to almost all of its live items (88.9 percent) while ITV used two-ways to introduce political items to a greater extent (55.2 percent) than interpreting politics (34.5 percent). 2013, by contrast, saw interpretation as the primary purpose on both channels (52.2 percent on the BBC and 63.2 percent on ITV) with updates occupying a greater part in live coverage (21-22 percent on both channels). Overall, H6 was largely supported (with the exception of ITV in 2004) because live news was primarily used to interpret political action, rather than used for the location of the reporter, for introducing edited packages or supplying live updates. Although, in 2013, the primary purpose of over a fifth of live news reporting related to bringing the latest developments to a story, far greater than any previous year. Injecting Immediacy into Media Logic: (Re)interpreting the Mediatisation of Politics Overall, the initial headline findings of this study - that, over recent decades, the length of onscreen sources had not declined in television newscasts (rejecting H1a), that there had been a subtle decline in the use of sources informing coverage (mildly supporting H1b), that imagebites had not increased in length or use (rejecting H2a and H2b) or that the visibility of journalists had steadily grown (supporting H3) - provided, according to previous theorising, only lukewarm evidence to support the proposition that a mediatisation of political content had occurred (Strömbäck and Dimitrova 2011). However, if one scratches below the surface of these indicators - of sourcing, imagebites and journalistic visibility - it can be observed that the changing trends in television news coverage can be principally explained - in the second part of the study - by whether political news is edited or live in format. As H4a confirmed, live news steadily increased into the news millennium, notably in the reporting of politics (supporting H4b). Since live two-ways became a more widely used convention in newscasts, the visibility of journalists onscreen also substantially shifted. When live news was excluded, for example, the proportion of visible journalists did not change as dramatically into the new millennium (featuring in approximately two thirds of coverage on both channels, 10-20 percent less in 2004 and 2013). Correspondingly, as onscreen sources were almost always featured in edited news as imagebites exclusively were, the findings suggested that while edited political news had largely remained the same, live news had a greater influence on coverage. However, while live news items became shorter over time, live political news did not - with the exception of ITV in 2004 - rejecting H4b. But as was pointed out, political news has become shorter over time because more of it is reported live, which is shorter in length than edited news. Another key difference established by the type of journalistic interventions shaping coverage of politics was - as H5 predicted - that far less sources were used in live rather than edited news. Moreover, it was journalists themselves who acted as sources more in live news, delivering, above all, interpretation (apart from ITV in 2004) rather than a more descriptive style of reporting (supporting H6). While the prevailing literature suggested commercialisation was a likely cause of greater mediatisation, this study found little evidence to support any major differences over time in the nature of political reporting or the type of journalistic interventions between the public service broadcaster and the more commercially driven channel (rejecting H7). As ITV is a commercial public service broadcaster - closely regulated and in competition with the BBC, a wholesale public service broadcaster - it could be that the channel does not fall readily (by cross-national standards) into a "commercial" channel. In other words, unlike the US's laissez faire broadcast model, the UK's regulatory culture and overarching public service framework may - compared to other countries - put a buffer on commercial influences. Commercialisation as a precursor to mediatisation is further questioned below, but for now the wider significance of the study is considered in the context of debates about the mediatisation of politics. When political news was analysed generally, there was little support for well-established indicators of mediatisation such as soundbites and imagebites. However, when live news was isolated and analysed over time, the degree of journalistic interventionism generally appeared to increase, with less political voices present, greater journalistic visibility and reliance on interpretation from reporters. This suggests that in order to understand where and why political news has become mediatised, it is important to more broadly interpret the changing nature and culture of journalism. For live news has been enhanced in newscasts generally, indicating that the media logic shaping its coverage has been informed by conventions and values familiar to rolling news rather than fixed-time programming. Or, put another way, the level of journalistic interventionism - what Strömbäck and Esser (2009, 219) called the "engine of mediatisation" - has increased on newscasts in recent decades due to an injection of immediacy in the values of television journalism more generally. In light of these findings, it could be argued that when theorising new indicators of mediatisation the specific format of media - whether fixed-time newscasts, online blogs or rolling news coverage - should be more carefully considered to interpret how its logic has changed over time. In other words, rather than there being a single and uniform media logic shaping the mediatisation of politics, there y are competing and multiple logics at work. Needless to say, it is not just media logics that change over time, but wider social, political and economic forces. But while acknowledging the whiff of tautology at play, interpreting the mediatisation of news media should arguably play a greater role in understanding the changing nature of political reporting. A common explanation for why political news has become more mediatised is due to journalists responding to a new professionalised class of "on-message" politicians. The rise of the interventionist live two-way convention in this study arguably reinforces this proposition. For live political news increased to a greater extent than non-political news, indicating that editorially speaking politics is a more interventionist genre of news. However, the study also found live non-political news was shorter than live political news, suggesting that political reporters were rvv^M+Arl rvvn^l-Af 4--» »-v*>n 4-r> i 1-Kn TJT/M*lrl /~*4- I i I-i /ir C > granted greater time to react and interpret the world of politics. Indeed, political journalists were routinely asked to analyse rather than simply describe political news. So, for example, after the Chancellor of the Exchequer's 2004 annual Budget the anchor asked the then political editor, Andrew Marr, to interpret the politics behind it: "Now, Andrew, do you think this budget sharpens y^ the dividing line between Labour and the Conservatives?" In other words, jour- nalists appear to be increasingly invited to act as a key source, rather than relying on politicians or political parties. It is a point similarly identified by Lundell and Ekström (2013) in a qualitative assessment of Swedish television news between 1982 ^ and 2012. They concluded that "journalism has gradually chiseled out a position for itself where journalists positioned as interviewees are enabled to act in the role of authoritative and confident news sources" (Lundell and Ekström 2013, 528). While more sophisticated technology, of course, allows journalists to report beyond the confines of the studio, this study found the location of a reporter did not appear to be a significant reason for a live two-way. By 2013, for example - when the ability to go live was no longer a novelty having been an established convention for well over a decade - journalists were being increasingly asked - notably on the BBC - to comment and interpret upon stories within the studio. This can thus be seen to reinforce the importance of journalists as sources, rather than roving reporters out on location. Of course, reporters talking onscreen in well-established locations - outside Downing Street or Westminster - can be easier to produce, cheaper, and less resource intensive than gathering and editing a news item. Live news can also be shared between broadcasters (from news agencies, say) leaving it to competing journalistic personalities to offer a unique perspective/interpretation. But since live political news was most apparent on the public service broadcaster, this more interventionist approach to television news journalism does not appear to be consistent with a commercial strategy, but arguably one that is deliberately deployed to inform viewers, to enlighten rather than simply entertain. In other words, a greater mediatisation of political news does not necessarily mean adopting a market logic, a reflection of commercial decision making. At the same time, the study found live political reporting contained far less sources per item than edited news, placing media actors - or, more specifically, political editors and correspondents - at the centre of the narrative. This raises important questions that go beyond the scope of this study. For how politics is routinely communicated by television journalists - exploring more qualitatively, the type of analysis and contextualisa-tion in coverage - and understood, engaged with and interpreted by audiences is needed to be able to assess the impact of this type of interventionism in newscasts. In closing, then, the evidence in this study has suggested that newscasts have been injected by a logic of immediacy over recent decades, adopting - it was theorised and empirically confirmed - the kind of urgency and interventionism apparent in instant and rolling news formats. How far future newscasts will be distinctive from, or more complicit with, the editorial direction of rolling news, of course, remains an open question. An emergent feature of 2013, for instance, was the growth of latest updates in live reporting, further evidence perhaps of yet more immediacy in fixed-time newscasts. This arguably makes it necessary to routinely (re)interpret the mediatisation of politics theoretically and empirically, and importantly according to the different formats, media systems and political cultures that shape competing logics and levels of interventionism. Notes: 1. The years and weeks of the longitudinal study were largely shaped by the availability of TV news footage in the 1990s and early 2000s. The sample of news in 1991/2 sample, for example, was not over one year because a full three week could not be located. However, in order to ensure coverage was not skewed, no major newsworthy stories dominated the sampling period. I am grateful to Greg Philo and Colin Macpherson for helping me to access the television news footage from the Glasgow Media Group's archive. I would also like to thank Cardiff's Undergraduate Research Opportunities Programme (CUROP) for funding Rachel Lewis and Hugh Roger over eight weeks to help code the TV news footage. 2. Rather than only measuring the volume and length of politicians' soundbites, the study included all onscreen sources (citizens, business leaders, police etc.), since they can also be seen as important actors in the reporting of politics. References: Cushion, Stephen, and Thomas, Richard. 2013. The Mediatization of Politics: Interpreting the Value of Live vs. Edited Journalistic Interventions in UK Television News Bulletins. The International Journal of Press/Politics 18, 3, 360-380. Cushion, Stephen, Toril Aalberg and Richard Thomas. 2014a. Towards a Rolling News Logic in Fixed Time Bulletins? A Comparative Analysis of Journalistic Interventions in the US, UK and Norway. European Journal of Communication 29, 1, 100-109. Cushion, Stephen, Hugh Rodger and Rachel Lewis. 2014b. Comparing Levels of Mediatization in Television Journalism: An Analysis of Political Reporting on US and UK Evening News Bulletins. International Communication Gazette 76, 6, 443-463. Deacon, David, and Dominic Wring. 2011. Reporting the 2010 General Election: Old Media, New Media - Old Politics, New Politics. In D. Wring, R. Mortimore and S. Atkinson (eds.), Political Communication in Britain, 281 -303. Basingstoke: Palgrave McMillan. Esser, Frank. 2008. Dimensions of Political News Cultures: Sound Bite and Image Bite News in France, Germany, Great Britain and the United States. International Journal of Press/Politics 13, 4, 401-428. Esser, Frank. 2013. Mediatization as a Challenge. In H. Kriesi, S. Lavenex, F. Esser, M. Jorg, M. Buhlmann and D. Bochsler (eds.), Democracy in the Age of Globalization and Mediatization, 155-176. Basingstoke: Palgrave. Farnsworth, Stephen, and Robert Lichter. 2007. The Nightly News Nightmare: Network Television's Coverage of US Presidential Elections, 1988-2004. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Littlefield. Gitlin, Todd. 1987. Watching Television. New York: Pantheon. Grabe, Maria Elisabeth, and Eric Bucy. 2007. Image Bite Politics: News and the Visual Framing of Elections. New York: Oxford University Press. Hallin, Daniel. 1992. Sound Bite News: Television Coverage of Elections, 1968-1988, Journal of Communication 42, 2, 5-24. Hallin, Daniel. 1994. We Keep American On Top of the World. New York: Routledge. Landerer, Nino. 2013. Rethinking the Logics: A Conceptual Framework for the Mediatization of Politics. Communication Theory 23, 3, 329-258. Lundell, Asa Kroon, and Mats Ekström. 2013. Interpreting the News: Swedish Correspondents as Expert Sources 1982-2012. Journalism Practice 7, 4, 517-532. Patterson, Thomas. 1993. Out of Order. New York: Vintage. ORyfe, David. M., and Markus Kemmelmeier. 2011. Quoting Practices, Path Dependency and the Birth of Modern Democracy. Journalism Studies 12, 1, 10-26. Salgado, Susan, and Jesper Strömbäck. 2012. Interpretive Journalism: Review of Concepts, Operationalizations and Key Findings. Journalism 13, 2, 144-161. Semetko, Holly, Jay Blumler, Michael Gurevitch and David Weaver. 1991. The Formation of Campaign Agendas: A Comparative Analysis of Party and Media Roles in Recent American and British Elections. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Steele, Catherine, and Kevin Barnhurst. 1996. The Journalism of Opinion: Network Coverage in US C Presidential Campaigns, 1968-1988. Critical Studies in Mass Communication 13, 3, 187-209. Strömbäck, Jesper. 2013. The Four Phases of Mediatization: An Analysis of the Mediatization of Politics. The International Journal of Press/Politics 13, 3, 228-246. Strömbäck, Jesper, and Daniela Dimitrova. 2011. Mediatization and Media Interventionism: A Comparative Analysis of Sweden and the United States. The International Journal of Press/ ^ Politics 16, 1, 30-49. Ln A SHORT HISTORY OF THE EPISTEMIC COMMONS CRITICAL INTELLECTUALS, EUROPE AND THE SMALL NATIONS Abstract The quest for more openness and publicity is seen as a continuation of the long historical development of the epistemic commons, which began in the Middle Ages and culminated in the legacy of the Enlightenment. The argument is that European modernity is fundamentally based on the assumption that knowledge and culture belong to the common domain and that the process of democ-ratisation necessarily means removing restrictions on the epistemic commons. Over the last 30 years, this optimism has suffered from two kinds of backlashes. Firstly, from the 1970s onwards, a policy of weakening and privatising public institutions has practically halted the expansion of the epistemic commons. Secondly, the other half of Europe, the CEE countries, did not benefit from the same kind of democratic development after the Second World War as their Western counterparts did. Because there was no tradition of democratic public institutions, the critical intellectuals in the CEE countries were rather helpless in promoting the ideas of publicity and democratic citizenship. The difficult questions are as follows: What can the role of critical scholars in promoting the epistemic commons be today? How should we understand the legacy of the Enlightenment - without falling for nostalgia for the 1960s and 1970s? hannu nieminen Hannu Nieminen is Professor of Media and Communications Policy at the Department of Social Research, University of Helsinki; e-mail: hannu.nieminen@helsinki.fi. IV LO LO d CP rn o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ 1 * (fl 0 C ■I Ln Ln In this article, I will discuss the development of epistemic institutions from the 1960s to today. By epistemic institutions, I mean such established fields of social activities as education, science, culture and the media, as well as the organisational forms representing them. The relationships between these institutions have changed throughout history, and they have fulfilled different functions at different times. Together, they form the epistemic order of society. It is vital for democracy that epistemic institutions are open and inclusive. This forms a part of our basic understanding of the constitution of a modern society. It must be emphasised, however, that there is no interminable, historically constant relationship between epistemic institutions and democracy. In certain phases of history, these institutions have developed hand-in-hand with democracy, but we have the opposite experience as well in that epistemic institutions have also been used against democracy. It is equally important to recognise that in relation to democracy, these institutions have different functions. We can say that, for example, the function of academic education is to equip us with an epistemic and mental map of the world, cultural institutions offer us aesthetic and identity-forming experiences, the role of the media is to update our daily relationship with the world and so on. Epistemic institutions have played a central role in the historical development of European democracy. The recent symptoms of the crisis of democracy are closely linked to the status of these institutions. Many institutions have been compelled to adopt responsibilities and functions that are external to their original social and cultural functions and their operational logics. This is the case, for example, in science and higher education, which have been compelled to finance their activities by applying commercial logics in many countries, creating a dependency on external economic conditions. Obviously, this has a direct effect on their democratic function. Epistemic Commons My starting point is the notion that our conception of democracy includes something that we can call the epistemic commons as one of its basic ideas. By the epistemic commons, I mean areas of shared knowledge and information that are £ open to all, although what we mean by "all" is always negotiable.1 We can think J of the epistemic commons as the reservoir of our shared social imaginaries, which, following Craig Calhoun (2003, 25; also Taylor 2007) are Q more or less coherent sociocultural processes that shape actors' understand- ings of what is possible, what is real, and how to understand each. The influence of both interests and identity is refracted through such imaginaries - thus, not simply through culture generally but through specific formations that naturalize and give primacy to such ideas as individual, national, and market. Ifl 0 C > The origin of the metaphoric term "commons" derives from the medieval use of the concept, referring to the collective right to use the village land, which was understood to be an open field in communal usage; no one could claim exclusive right or private ownership over it. The eventual fate of the commons is well known through the gradual privatisation of land ownership, they were transformed into U^ the private property of large landowners, leading to the enclosures of the commons. Open fields and woods were divided and fenced to prevent free trespassing, which had been a common right for centuries (see Polanyi 2001). In different parts of Europe, the policy of enclosure took place at different times. In England, it started as ^ early as the 13th century, while in Finland, it began as late as the mid-18th century. In the realm of symbolic production, the allegory of the commons can be used to refer to the idea of the universality of knowledge and culture. Our modern liberal democracy, with its European social welfare state model, is based on an assumption that epistemic institutions are open and accessible to all and exposed to critical public evaluation as well. The idea of the epistemic commons has its historical roots in the form of social institutions, which include academic education, the sciences, culture and arts, religion, the media and so on. Institutions have their organisational appearances, for example, in the forms of the education system (schools and universities), the media (in all of its manifestations - print, electronic and recorded), cultural institutions (theatres, museums and orchestras) and religious organisations. Social institutions and their mutual relations bring about the epistemic order, which concerns such fundamentals as the understanding of the distinction between the real and the unreal, the just and the unjust, and the beautiful and the tasteless. This order is peculiar to each age and each culture (see Foucault's Epistemé, Regime of Truth).2 The concept of the epistemic order can be illustrated by comparing the West European societies of the 1910s, 1960s and 2010s.3 What was conceived of as being real and true in the 1910s was changed fundamentally over the next 50 years. With the coming of the 1960s, Europe had survived two major wars and was now divided in two, the East and the West; societies were secularised; class relations were pacified; political systems were pluralised; the role of the state was strengthened; etc. Fifty years later, in 2010, the political order was again fundamentally changed. Europe's division had, at least officially and formally, ended; societies had become multicultural; social and political polarisation had returned; the role of the state had diminished and that of the market had been reinforced. The term "epistemic" can be problematic because it can be understood as narrowly referring to the cognitive and rationalistic dimensions of knowledge. Here, however, it is used in a wider sense, also including non-cognitive and non-rational ways of experiencing and signifying the world, as in the forms of aesthetic experiences and creative processes. A more accurate expression might be "the commons of knowledge and shared experiences"; for convenience's sake, the shorter term "the epistemic commons" will be applied here. The Development of the European Epistemic Commons In what follows, a brief introduction to the development of the epistemic commons in Europe will be presented. We can say that the first (pre-)modern epistemic institutions were the early universities, which were established in various parts of Europe from the 12th century onward, first in Italy (Bologne), France (Paris) and England (Oxford). Although universities were under the tight control of the Church, new and non-conformist ideas about the nature and origin of knowledge, as well as the methods for approaching and testing it, began to develop over time. (Bartlett 1994, 288-291; Rossi 2001) The next major movement towards the epistemic commons took place with the Protestant Reformation in the 16th century in Central and Northern Europe. The reformation movement, spreading confidence in the individual's own personal judgment and a non-mediated spiritual relationship with God, also laid the groundwork for the secularisation of knowledge and for the eventual coming of a scientific worldview (see more in Taylor 2007). The Protestant Reformation laid the groundwork for the expansion of the epis-temic commons in other ways as well. It can be claimed that the Reformation acted as the first pan-European counter-public movement (Warner 2002) that effectively used a new medium, the printing press, to promote its aims. Printed pamphlets were spread around Europe, and extensive censorship by both Church and state authorities was avoided by using small printing machines that were easily transferable from country to country (Briggs and Burke 2002). The literary publicity of those days, which was still predominantly religious, was complemented by the publicity of the pulpit, which the reformers used to spread their reformist, anti-Papal message. The effectiveness of the reformist message was seen in the expanding practice of conducting religious sacraments in the vernacular, instead of using Latin, as traditionally required by the Church. This meant making the direct spiritual relationship with God an idea that was seminal to the Reformation, a living practice. The vernacular translations of the Bible began to be spread among the lay people. Religious literature came in various forms - from the Bible to prayer books - and was the most widespread literary genre for several centuries. Thus, it is only natural that religious language and symbols have had a major influence on the development of national public cultures, including those of the countries of the Protestant Reformation (see Febvre and Martin 2010, 287-332). The transition from the Middle Ages to early European modernity witnessed the birth of another central epistemic novelty, the newspaper press, which was the predecessor of the all-embracing media of today. With the emergence of newspapers, the critical idea of publicity was formulated for the first time, eventually leading to the claim that public opinion was the origin of political will (see Keane 1991). As is generally pointed out, newspapers were born out of the correspondence between the agents of the largest European merchants, who were located in major commercial centres around Europe, and their company headquarters. In addition to purely commercial information, their letters also included stories from various trading centres. Because their correspondence contained material of public interest -news, descriptions of foreign countries and cultures, gossip - they were copied and distributed for wider audiences. In this way, the first regularly issued newspapers were born in Central Europe as early as the 16th century (Briggs and Burke 2002). Jürgen Habermas's seminal treatise on the origins of the bourgeois public sphere (1989) offers a useful introduction to the development of epistemic institutions. Most discussions of Habermas's presentation emphasise its political dimension. ^ According to this reading, the main issue in the formation of this new type of publicity was the political emancipation of the emerging middle classes, or the bourgeoisie. Although the wealthiest sections of the middle classes were excluded from political power in most European countries, their increasing wealth served their governments well as a source of taxation and war loans. The recently established newspaper press, as well as other publications (magazines, journals and chapbooks) offered an arena for critical political debate. Political argumentation, U^ mediated by the newspapers, accelerated the debates in meetings, as well as in 0 £ i C coffee houses and pubs, eventually leading to the political organisation of the bourgeoisie in the 18th and 19th centuries (Habermas 1989; Keane 1991; Thompson CT> 1992; Van Horn Melton 2001). The bourgeois revolutions took different forms in ^ different European countries. What they had in common, however, was that the press (newspapers, pamphlets, leaflets, chapbooks, journals and books) performed a central role in organising political action and promoting critical debate. This was the case in France (1789-1799), as well as in Britain (1832). Less attention has been paid to Habermas's account of the significance of cultural publicity (or the "literary public sphere," as Habermas calls it).4 Because political publicity did not evolve from a historical void, it must have been preceded and complemented by the development of structures of publicness in the cultural sphere. The political debate and the claims it generates are predicated upon a process in which the new social subject becomes conscious of itself and thus precognitive of its collective interests. (Habermas 1989; Taylor 2007). The common forms of life - based on birth, education, occupation, language, place of residence, cultural or ethnic origin and kinship - create connecting bonds. A bourgeois subjectivity develops first within the traditional forms of publicness of the old society (a society of estates), initially benefiting from these forms but eventually turning them upside-down, using them against the old society and its institutions. According to Habermas, the birth of the modern novel and the expansion of the reading culture are crucially important culturally subversive practices. New aesthetic forms and conventions, reflecting wholly novel individual experiences, came to reign not only in literature but also in the realms of fine art, music and theatre (Habermas 1989). Universities as Epistemic Commons In the early decades of the 18th century, the Industrial Revolution brought a fundamental change to the entire traditional structure of social production, from agriculture and forestry to international trade and commerce. All parts of Europe felt a growing need for useful knowledge, creating increasing pressure for the expansion and reform of European epistemic institutions. Traditionally prestigious universities, such as Oxford, Cambridge, the Sorbonne, Bologna, etc., were still conservative and anti-Enlightenment; they were following the forms and rituals derived from the Middle Ages. New knowledge was first established outside of these universities, in separate institutions and research centres (Rossi 2001). A model for a new university, promoting Enlightenment-based ideas of the human and social sciences, was finally offered by Humboldt University in Berlin, established in 1810. It became known as the first modern multidisciplinary and liberally minded European institution of science and higher education. It was not only universities but the entire academic educational system that, from the 18th century onward, was forced to face the challenges of industrialisation and social modernisation. Simultaneous to the expansion and diversification of modern industries, the need for specialists and experts increased. The rapid increase in production brought about growing expectations regarding the public regulation of the conditions of economic production by nation states. The state administration and public legal apparatus grew stronger. New occupations and professions were born that required education. This new industrial society required basic education and elementary civic virtues - literacy and industrial discipline - from all its members. The development of compulsory mass education started in the early decades of the 19th century (Freeman Butts 1955; Houston 1988; Vincent 2000). This new industrial society was based on the idea of an ever-expanding economy. Its basic unit was the nation state. The territory and the soil, including the natural resources, were part of its national treasures, the utilisation of which was to be decided within the framework of national legislation. A central responsibility of the nation state was the creation of national wealth, which required the input of all members of society. The relationship between the Industrial Revolution and the consolidation of the nation state was organised differently in different countries. Thus, in England, on the one hand, the role of Parliament was strengthened, and on the other, the freedom of the market was enhanced; in France, the role of the central state administration, both in the government and in the economy, was fortified (Rietbergen 1998; Le Goff 2005). Nationalisation of the Public Spheres It should be noted that the introduction of a new social force, the middle classes, took place at about the same time in various parts of Europe. This occurred from the 13th to the 15th centuries, depending on the speed of capitalist development in a given region. The advent of commercial and, later, industrial capitalism was an all-European phenomenon. This was the case with the development of European epistemic commons as well: the emerging middle classes created their shared frames of reference not only during their many struggles against the feudal powers but also through expanding their trade relations and commercial networks throughout Europe and eventually the globe (McNeill and McNeill 2003). However, despite the fact that on the most general level, the formative epistemic commons were pan-European and common to the middle classes in all parts of Europe, their emergence and consolidation took place simultaneously with the new spatio-political organisation of Europe, especially as a result of the Westphalia peace treaty in the 17th century (see Fraser 2007). The epistemic order not only followed but ^ was an elemental part of the shaping of the new Europe, which was now divided by national borders. This created a controversy that has shaped how we think of Europe: although the modern epistemic order is in many fundamental respects shared by all European societies, in their institutional forms, the epistemic commons came to be defined by nation states, including all the mythical elements regarding the historical "origins" of these nation states. The tragedy of this controversy is shown, for example, in the politics of writing national histories. Although one of the first conditions for a European epistemic order was a shared understanding of European history and shared values - we Europeans as the inheritors of classical humanism - today, there are a multiplicity of national histories tailored for the purposes of promoting national sentiments and identities, thus dividing Europe.5 The tragedy of Europe is that despite the common history of our epistemic institutions, our modern social imaginaries were formed in the process of nation creation. In this way, the epistemic institutions became shaped within nationalist frameworks and developed into components of the power structures and hegemonic constellations of the increasingly powerful nation states. (Taylor 2007). As a result, something like a two-level European epistemic order developed. One level ^ was formed by the general idea of the epistemic commons, which was shared by 0 fi fr I fi > European societies (references to Christianity, classical humanism, the interpretation of European and world history, scientific epistemology, etc.); on the other level, these epistemic commons were always adopted and modified within national frameworks and shaped to fit the needs of the social and political power structures of a given nation. This process created the basis for the formation of national public spheres (Rietbergen 1998; Fraser 2007). The process of the nationalisation of culture can perhaps be observed most clearly in small European states, which in many ways, paved the way for the modernisation of the larger and more powerful states. What took several hundred years in large European countries - England, France and Germany - was completed in many smaller countries in less than a century. For example, in the case of Finland, after the annexation of Finland from Sweden by Russia in 1809, the government announced a competition to write the "best" history of Finland, which was also to be the first, in 1818. This was followed by the founding of the national newspaper press (in stages from the 1830s onwards) and the establishment of a system of public education (from the 1880s onwards). The birth of modern national cultural life was completed with the establishment of the Finnish school of fine art, literature and theatre (1870-1890) and the organisation of national associational life (from the 1870s onward). As a result, something like a national public sphere, uniting the most of the nation, was in place by 1905-1906, just before the first parliamentary elections (Klinge 1997; Nieminen 2006). The Role of Intellectuals Above, I made the point that our concept of democracy, in all its different forms, presumes the existence of sources of shared knowledge and experiences -something like what I have called the epistemic commons above. Although this requirement must concern all branches of democratic theory (see e.g. Held 1987; Habermas 1998; Cunningham 2002; Dryzek and Donleavy 2009), this seems to especially concern theories of deliberative democracy. They assume that in order to practice genuine deliberation, the members of the public must not only have equal access to all relevant information and knowledge but also possess an equal competence in order to comprehend and use this information for their interests and needs. Additionally, a communication system must facilitate a non-restrained dialogical relationship both horizontally, between citizens, and vertically, connecting citizens to decision makers. Even if these conditions are taken as counterfactual - that is, something that can be used as a normative measure in assessing the empirical state of matters -within the present mediatised political condition,6 they remain utopian. We cannot assume that every citizen can master all the myriad areas of modern politics or that they will ever be able to assess all the available knowledge and information before being able to form an opinion on the issue in question. (Dryzek and Dunleavy 2009, 215-225). What is needed are trusted intermediaries who act as interpreters between three poles: the issue and the actors under discussion; the epistemic commons, that is, all accumulated knowledge and information relevant to the issue and citizens. Here, what I call intermediaries is a generic name for institutions and institutionalised practices, examples of which include the media, the church, the school and the university, as well as the professions of journalists, priests, educators, scientists and the like, which are characterised by their epistemic status. Their roles are justified by their special expertise and knowledge; they are supposed to "know better" than normal citizens or to know on behalf of others (Bauman 1987, 4). Essential to the successful performance of these epistemic institutions is their dependence on trust relations. Although they are not formally accountable, their status is constantly being tested. They must publicly convince the rest of society of their relevance, that is, that they fulfil the tasks and duties for which they were originally mandated. There are various ways of categorising these intermediaries. Habermas (2006, 415-16) distinguishes between five roles for intermediaries in the area of mediated political communication: (a) lobbyists who represent special interest groups; (b) advocates who either represent general interest groups or substitute for a lack of representation of marginalized groups that are unable to voice their interests effectively; (c) experts who are credited with professional or scientific knowledge in some specialized area and are invited to give advice; (d) moral entrepreneurs who generate public attention for supposedly neglected issues; and, last but not least, (e) intellectuals who have gained, unlike advocates or moral entrepreneurs, a perceived personal reputation in some field (e.g., as writers or academics) and who engage, unlike experts and lobbyists, spontaneously in public discourse with the declared intention of promoting general interests. It is the last category to which Habermas (2009, 55-56) attributes the ability to articulate common interests, thus placing it above of particular or private interests: They are supposed to speak out only when current events are threatening to spin out of control - but then promptly, as an early warning system. With this we come to the sole ability which could still set intellectuals apart today, namely an avantgardistic instinct for relevances. They have to be able to get worked up about critical developments while others are ^ still absorbed in business as usual. For his part, Zygmunt Bauman (1987, 4) includes scientists, moral philosophers and aesthetes among the intellectual professions. He makes a distinction between two sorts of intellectuals, the modern ones, whom he calls "legislators," and the post-modern intellectuals, whom he calls "interpreters." The strategy of the leg- 0 £ 0 C > islators consists of making authoritative statements which arbitrate in controversies of opinion and which select those opinions which, having been selected, "p become correct and binding. The authority to arbitrate is in this case le- gitimized by superior (objective) knowledge to which intellectuals have a (fl better access than the non-intellectual part of society. The post-modern strategy of the interpreters consists of translating statements, made within one communally based tradition, so that they can be understood within the system of knowledge based on another tradition. Instead of being oriented towards selecting the best social order, this strategy is aimed at facilitating communications between ^ autonomous (sovereign) participants (Ibid, 5). Compared to Bauman's conception of intellectuals, that of Habermas appears rather prescriptive in character. In contrast to other actors in public life, intellec- ro tuals are assumedly impartial - their declared intention it is to promote general interests to which, it seems, only they can have access. In a way, intellectuals are seen as guardians of the epistemic community. On the other hand, Bauman's approach seems more functionalistic. According to him, intellectuals are needed in all modern societies to mediate and regulate social relations between epistemic communities. His claim is that this function can be seen as historically relative. Societal mediation needs are different in the modern phase of development than they are in the post-modern phase. When assessing the state of the epistemic commons and the present role of intellectuals in this regard, Bauman's historical-functionalist approach appears more helpful. Habermas provides a list of heroic attributes characterising intellectuals: "a mistrustful sensitivity to damage to the normative infrastructure of the polity; the anxious anticipation of threats to the mental resources of the shared political form of life; the sense for what is lacking and 'could be otherwise'; a spark of imagination in conceiving of alternatives; and a modicum of the courage required for polarizing, provoking, and pamphleteering" (Habermas 2009, 55-56). Following from Bauman's way of thinking, these attributes can be taken as qualities that are essential for promoting the functional stability of societies, and from this point of view, intellectuals are seen as guardians of the epistemic order, diagnosing potential dysfunctions, providing or proposing corrective measures, etc. From this perspective, intellectuals form one group of public actors with a very specific role: they possess, for one reason or another, the competence to formulate interpretations that give public articulation to something like collective experience. One of their main forums is the daily media, especially the newspaper press. Other forums of equal importance, but with less immediate visibility, are the epistemic institutions of the "second order": educational and scientific institutions, book and magazine publishers, cultural organisations and all other institutions that make authoritative decisions and value judgments on what is presented as true, just and of good taste. It is also assumed that these definitions and interpretations vary over time. In this sense, they are always "situational," being temporally and spatially marked. This does not, however, prevent some interpretations from becoming institutionalised (in one form or another) in such a way that a social institution is formed that embodies the historical conditions under which the "original" interpretation occurred. In other words, these conditions imply path dependence. From this historical-functionalist approach, it naturally follows that the role of intellectuals is historical as well. In different times, different people or groups of people with different qualities and abilities can - or can be invited to - occupy this role. Just for the sake of illustration, it can be argued that in the case of Finland, in the early years of the 20th century, public intellectuals came from the sphere of arts and culture ("men and women of letters"). In the 1950s, lawyers were included; in the 1960s, sociologists and engineers entered; in the 1980s, economists and market analysts entered and from the 1990s onwards, "men and women of letters" and sociologists have exited, and corporate and financial managers and their proponents have entered (Nieminen 2014). It would be misleading, however, to speak of public intellectuals as one homogeneous group. Continuing Bauman's functionalist method of analysis, we are reminded that not all intellectuals follow the same strategy at any given time. Thus, speaking about the situation in the Central and East European socialist countries before the democratic transition, Rudi Rizman (2011, 96-97) has made a distinction between three intellectual positions: the co-opted intellectuals, who served the Communist Parties as "intellectual workers," sacrificing their "autonomous critical thinking for certain material and non-material rewards, including privileges, high positions, awards and medals"; the silent majority, who defended their professional autonomy "against the paternalistic attempts of a party-state" and the non-conformists, who formed "a relatively small minority" and who were "rather easily monitored by the regime's security apparatus." Although Rizman makes this threefold division on the basis of the European ex-socialist countries, we can easily find similar intellectual strategies at work in West European liberal democracies. There are intellectuals who have assumed the role of active advocate in relation to politics ("party-intellectuals," as Habermas (2009, 51) calls them); another group is formed by the silent majority, those who accept the status quo and have adopted an expert professional position ("practical intellectuals," Bennett (2006, 187)) and lastly, there are critical or non-conformist intellectuals, who according to Habermas's definition, are intellectuals proper, being socially responsible and fulfilling their historical moral duty. From the viewpoint of the epistemic commons, the issue becomes how these different intellectual strategies currently relate to the openness and publicity of epis-temic institutions. Historically, modern epistemic institutions and intermediaries were constructed within and around nation states. The Habermasian public sphere is certainly based on an idealised depiction of political and cultural development in the nation state; the ideal of deliberative democracy was originally constructed based on the re-shaping of a national polity. Accordingly, the critical debates and struggles between particular interests were conceived as taking place within the national articulations of those interests, that is, within a national constellation of organised interests. On the Crisis of the Epistemic Commons We can say today that in hindsight, the first two to three decades after the Second World War (from the 1950s to the 1970s) were pinnacles for the development of the epistemic commons in Europe. Through the processes of material, social and political reconstruction, a shared understanding developed among Europeans that epistemic institutions - in the domains of education, culture, social care, etc. - should be open to all. This was an integral part of the more general European approach to the social welfare state, recognising the universality of civic values and citizenship. A unique epistemic order began to take shape, perhaps epitomised by what has been called the Nordic welfare model (Kananen 2014). One of the corner stones of the model was the concept of citizenship, which was based on the Marshallian ideal of allocating to the state the responsibility of guaranteeing political, social, cultural and economic rights equally to all citizens (Marshall 1951). Often, when assessing the Nordic model, the importance of the neo-corporatist system of organising socio-political relations based on a three-partite system of social contracts between the state, the employers and the trade unions ^ is highlighted. Its historical role in pacifying industrial relations and promoting a 0 fi fr I fi > culture of consensual policy making is emphasised (Rainio-Niemi 2008). Recently, however, the cultural dimension of Nordic "welfarism" has also received increas- LH ing attention. Its common elements include free universal basic education for all; free higher education; the geographic expansion of universities outside of metropolitan areas; an increasing investment in science in general; a strong emphasis on the human and social sciences; the expansion of public cultural institutions: public libraries, concert halls, museums and theatres, as well as musical and artistic education; the continued improvement of public service broadcasting; public subsidies to newspaper presses; etc. (Hilson 2008). Although not perhaps on the same scale, these ideas were adopted by other Western European countries as well. The expansion of public institutions in the late 1940s and 1950s was made possible by the rapid economic growth resulting from the "big boom" of reconstruction. An integral part of this more general process of European recovery was the cumulative need for academic expertise in solving the mounting problems in all the areas of social, economic and cultural development. There was a huge demand for social scientists from all disciplines - sociologists, political scientists, social policy scholars, social psychologists and social statisticians - who were needed as public experts and policy advisers. New universities and new faculties were established, and new disciplines emerged. The number of governmental departments and other public agencies exploded. This opened a new window for critical academic intellectuals as well: because the social problems at hand were unforeseen in terms of their scale and their solutions invited new approaches, critical scholarship was not only allowed but in demand in order to help break down the old conservative and hierarchical disciplines. However, this conjuncture, which was favourable to critical intellectuals, began to change in the late 1960s and the early 1970s. On the one hand, economic growth began to slow down, first in the USA and then in Western Europe (see Aldcroft 2001). On the other hand, as people's concern for the future and their fear for their standard incited them to challenge the traditional power structures, popular discontent began to expand, both in the USA and in Europe. This had already been analysed in the early 1970s by Habermas; he termed it "the crisis of legitimation in late capitalism" (1973; 1975). A New Metanarrative for Europe? Fundamentally, the predicament of most critical social scientists educated in Western Europe before the 1990s is that our whole concept of Europe - as well as our identity as social scientists - has been based on the Western historical narrative after WWII, which was essentially the experience of a divided Europe: the West against the East. As all people who were born before the mid-1970s remember, the Cold War experience was deeply embedded in our everyday lives. We were constantly reminded of the difference between "us" here in the free West and "them" behind the well-guarded borders. This experience was naturally part of our academic practices as well. There are at least three elements at play here. The first is related to the tasks of reconstruction, as discussed above. After the war, in most if not all Western European countries, the social sciences were assigned two major tasks: firstly, to assist in the processes of overall national reconstruction - in re-starting the national economy, establish- ing social services, restoring the political system, renewing education, etc., and secondly, because most governments were faced with mounting internal social and political problems with very fragile (or, in most cases, antagonistic) industrial relations and mounting social and political discontent, social scientists were also invited to assist in the task of promoting socio-cultural integration and unity under the national banner. In each country, these tasks gave social science a firmly national mission and, because the mission was common to all Western European countries, a common European cause, which was much assisted by the USA in the form of scholarship schemes, academic exchange programmes (the most famous being the generous Fulbright Program, which is still in existence), etc. The large narrative of European social sciences began to take shape. It seems necessary to emphasise that the "nonconformist" social sciences, as represented by, for example, the neo-Frank-furtian critical scholars, were formed within the same Cold War European social framework, with all its ontological and epistemic challenges. The European socialist countries, with their Central and Eastern European social scientists, were obviously missing from this picture. The socialist East was a black hole; it was not thought of as being a part of the expanding epistemic community of European social scientists. The major task facing Western scholars concerned the reconstruction and modernisation of the West European countries, and because the East was both less-developed than the West and closed to Western scientists, there was little active scientific interest in the East among scholars. There were four potential ways of dealing with Central and Eastern Europe: to ignore them because socialist societies were not interesting from the viewpoint of the challenges of Western modernisation; to define the socialist countries as objects of sociological and political research, as with the research traditions of the Western "Sovjetolo-gy" and "Kremlology"; to adopt an official policy in attempting to build bridges between Western and Eastern scientific institutions, such as science academies, universities, faculties and university departments and to develop personal contacts y with colleagues in the socialist countries and offer them both scholarly help and, in many cases, assistance regarding their dissident politics as well. In many cases, the latter three approaches were applied, with differing emphases. As the "big boom" of European reconstruction began to wane in the late 1960s and early 1970s, both the social status of and the socio-political demand for the social sciences began to decline. Along with this, the grand narrative that had offered the academic community a feeling of commonality was losing ground. Although institutionalised academic practices continued - new faculties of the social sciences were established, scholars published increasing numbers of books and articles, research agencies continued to finance scholarly projects and research programmes, international and national associations and their conferences expanded, etc. - simultaneously, ontological and epistemic differences that had long been controlled by the common grand narrative re-emerged and began to divide scholarly communities. The enthusiasm within macro-level social theory that had been characteristic of the 1960s and 1970s gave way to an increasing interest in micro-level social and cultural phenomena. However, despite the growing disciplinary divergence, the one thing still common to Western social sciences was the "structural imaginary" in ^ relation to the East. This imaginary, deeply embedded in the self-identity of West European scholars, concerned both the status of the academic intellectual - how to be a European social scientist - and the substance of our critical endeavour - how to perform European social science. Nothing prepared Western social scientists ^ for the fall of the Berlin Wall and the breakdown of the Soviet Union. The Western structural imaginary suffered an abrupt collapse from 1989 to 1991, from which it has not yet recovered. In the 1950s and 1960s, many critical scholars belonging to the last category in terms of their attitude towards the East had already adopted an activist stand in relation to the Central and Eastern European countries. Some of them were actively supporting the oppositional forces, or the "dissidents," in these countries. The developments in Czechoslovakia in the 1960s and the attempts to create "socialism with a human face" were studied especially closely. There was a belief that if liberated from the Stalinist grip of the Soviet Union, the Central and Eastern European countries could offer a model for a "third way" between capitalism and socialism, bringing the ideals of democracy and socialism together (see Havel et al 1985). This scholarly activism received new momentum in the 1980s with the rise of the Soli-darnosc movement in Poland and the publishing of Charta 77 in Czechoslovakia.7 This development took place just as new social activism was gaining ground in Western Europe, especially regarding the protection of the environment, gender equality and European nuclear disarmament. The traditional sociological concept of a "civil society," which had long been dormant, received a new lease on life. The optimism arising from the activism in the West was now projected to the East. Many critical scholars saw that what was taking place in both Central and Eastern Europe and Western Europe was a historical strengthening of civil society, clearing the way for major societal changes. Now, the civic movements in the East - "them" - presented the utopian potential for a new society based on democratic principles, and the standard bearers of this change were the leaders of these movements: Lech Walesa and other Solidarnosc leaders in Poland, Vaclav Havel in Czechoslovakia and others (see Havel et al 1985). What has happened since 1989-1991 continues to create a dilemma for critical social scientists. On the one hand, the demise of the post-war "European grand narrative," which had been based on the constant modernisation and socio-economic progress of the 1950s and 1960s, had left European social scientists scattered into different camps in the 1980s and 1990s. The public responsibilities and direct assignments that had been addressed to the human and social sciences in the 1960s and 1970s were now re-directed to academic fields such as technology and economics - disciplines that promised more immediate solutions to the problems characteristic to the era: the challenges of global competition, declining economic efficiency, falling profits, etc. If the traditional social sciences wanted to avoid being sidelined, they had to compete against the "hard" sciences and prove their usefulness by providing policy recommendations, which some prominent scholars attempted. In the late 1990s, a group of European sociologists, among them Anthony Giddens and Ulrich Beck, pioneered a "third way," a social democratic alternative for Europe. This was captured by the then-leading European social democratic politicians, most famously Tony Blair of the United Kingdom and Gerhard Schröder of Germany (see Giddens 1998; Beck 2000). On the other hand, as discussed above, the events of 1989-1991 brought about a major identity crisis for critical scholars. The second dimension of the post-war European grand narrative, the Cold War and the fact of a divided Europe, had abruptly discontinued. With this, the identity-creating narrative had lost its plot. There was no longer an externally imposed distinction between "us" and "them"; there was no longer such a distance between the modernised West and the underdeveloped East. Suddenly "we" were all supposedly on the same level. This posed a totally new normative challenge to Western critical scholars. Previously, they had possessed two registers of criticism: one used in critically measuring the performance of "our" Western capitalist democracies and another that was applied when criticising the Central and Eastern European socialist non-democracies. As discussed above, for a number of scholars, the civil society movements in the East promised to lead the way to a peaceful transformation and the unification of Europe under the banner of democracy and social solidarity. The hope was that with the collapse of socialism and the end of Party rule, now that the people in the Central and Easter European countries would finally be free to choose their futures, they would give power to their intellectual leaders. In so doing, it was hoped that the new European democracies and the political ideals they represented would provide us critical Western intellectuals with new models and empirical measurements for criticising our own societies. It turned out that this was not to be the case. The transition proved to be much different than the Western intellectuals had predicted or hoped for. According to the critics, the intellectual leaders of the pre-1989-1991 years proved incompetent in governing the transition from socialism to capitalist democracy. They lacked experience with practical political and economic leadership. Soon, the responsibility of running these countries was taken on by the new ruling elite, which consisted of a mixture of members of the old guard and young business managers (Ost 2005; Rizman 2011, 101-103; Tomka 2013, 308-310). The phenomenon of elite continuity was verified in the practices of the transition societies (see Sparks 2008). The European ex-socialist countries were soon re-named CEE countries by the international community (OECD, EU and IMF) and described as transition societies. It soon became clear then the concept of "transition" signified the process of the full integration of the CEE countries into the Western global order.8 The essence of this transition followed the model of modernisation defined in the infamous Washington Consensus, originally designed by the US Government and international organisations representing the less developed countries in Asia and Africa, which indicated that they were ultimately expected to adopt the same developmental path as "old" Europe.9 For social scientists, this meant that suddenly, in the mid-1990s, the demand for social scientists increased once more. They were now invited to assist their Eastern colleagues in common efforts to modernise the CEE countries and bring them to the "right" transitional path towards a fully developed free market economy and Western liberal democracy. This was backed up by a number of European and American research programmes that were funded by the EU and other international and private sources, including the seminal Open Society Foundations (Guilhot 2007). In a rather short time, a kind of academic Marshall plan was set up to help with academic research and its application to the transition processes, bringing with it all the consequences of dependence, both in the financial and ^ academic-scientific senses. C > However, there was a problem. In many instances, the funding was for a fixed term and on the condition that after the funding period, the CEE countries would CT> find their own funding resources in a manner similar to that of their Western Eu- ^ ropean neighbours. When the external funds began to dry up in the late 1990s and early 2000s, the social sciences were in trouble. The latest statistics from the European Research Council (ERC) show that in the field of human and social sciences, between 2007 and 2013, most grants under the Advanced Grant Funding Scheme (AdG) were given to projects hosted by UK institutions (358 projects), Germany received the second largest number of grants (219) and France received the third largest number of grants (191). On the other end of the scale were Slovakia, Hungary, Lithuania and Czech Republic with no projects; Slovenia, Latvia, Croatia, and Estonia with one project each and Bulgaria with two and Poland with three.10 The imbalance between the large Western European countries and the CEE countries is clear. At the same time, amplifying this effect, the neo-liberal grip began to seriously affect social science departments in the Western European universities, restricting resources for their international contacts. For critical scholars, all this led to a dilemma. After having lost the critical register that had been reserved for the socialist system, it became evident that their critical register, adjusted to the conditions in the Western liberal democracies, now had to be "recalibrated" for the new Eastern democracies, where against the expectations before 1989-1991, the problems concerning democracy and social justice soon turned out to be even greater than in the Western democracies (see Bezemer 2006). Simultaneously, Western social scientists were expected to fully collaborate and share their entire theoretical and methodological competences with their colleagues from the CEE countries. The difficult issue now is the normative basis of collaboration. On the one hand, the Western funders - the EU, the Open Society Foundations and others - expect this new research cooperation to promote the model of Western modernisation, with the values of economic competitiveness and administrative efficiency as guiding principles.11 On the other hand, the tradition of critical European scholarship has emphasised other values - solidarity, democracy, equality and culture. In the academic research that concerns their own Western societies (the countries of "old" West Europe), critical researchers have, by necessity, learned how to cope with this conflict between external pressures and critical scholarship (or so they think). This is not, however, necessarily the case in the collaboration with researchers of the "new" European democracies, in which external conditions concerning funding criteria and project management are much stricter. Nostalgia, History and Memory Here, we must address the problem of nostalgia, which I claim is embedded in the "structural imaginary" of the critical scholarship of Western social scientists (see Robertson 1990; Turner 1990). Because nostalgia, by definition, is a generational phenomenon, my claim is that the dominant scholarship and thus the problem of nostalgia are defined by the generation that entered academia between the 1960s and the 1980s. In relation to their lived experience, its members form a distinct epistemic community from the generation of the 1990s and 2000s. What makes nostalgia a specific problem is that among an epistemic community, it is usually taken for granted that its members all share the same (or about the same) normative commitments, and because of this, it is not necessary to spell out these commitments explicitly - they function as background or silent knowledge. A further complication is that this "taken-for-grantedness" is often combined with a lack of self-reflexivity, which means that the individuals in question have not made their normative commitments or their adopted criteria for criticism and judgment clear, even to themselves. In academia, this has led to a situation in which the different generations, although they share the same departments, do not necessarily share the same structural imaginary but belong to different epistemic communities in a practical sense, guided by different normative engagements. By the problem of nostalgia, in reference to critical Western scholars, I mean a complex phenomenon characterised by the fact that most of them have as their critical vantage point the ideal of the European welfare state as it was developing in the 1970s. At that time, however, Europe was divided along Cold War lines. These were structural conditions for the European welfare policies of the 1970s. In this way, academic nostalgia cannot escape the division between "us" here and "them" there. The scholars in the CEE countries cannot enjoy a similar nostalgia. There is no lived experience of the welfare state based on a neo-corporatist social contract; their experience of welfare under socialism is different. For most of them, the period between the late-1940s and 1989-1991 were "lost" years, an era of societal discontinuation that has had little bearing on the situation in their countries after 1991. I strongly feel that if we want to learn from each other - both within the Western academy and with our partners in the CEE countries - this fundamental and structural unevenness must be thoroughly discussed within our community of critical scholars. In what follows, I will return to the ideal of the epistemic commons and the responsibility of critical academic intellectuals to protect its tradition. From this viewpoint, it is somewhat disturbing to study the contradictory conceptions of what makes Europe today, as articulated by some of the major intellectual figures y of our day. One of the central elements in the ideal of the epistemic commons is the existence of the public sphere as its core component. In the last couple of decades, a wide body of literature has been published debating the potentiality of a European public sphere. In 2004, Habermas and Jacques Derrida made a bold proclamation that the massive demonstrations against the 2003 US military intervention in Iraq "in London and Rome, Madrid and Barcelona, Berlin and Paris," which were "the largest since the end of the Second World War - may well, in hindsight, go down in history as a sign of the birth of a European public sphere" (Habermas and Derrida 2005, 4). After this, they differentiate between three European orientations, which seems to be at odds with their claim of an emerging, unifying European public sphere. In their account, there are differences between European countries in three main areas: I I a /-vi- I A 4-1 14-i I vn tjt/m«! rl /-»vrl Av ri l-Urt vnI /^n /-vt i i^lm'n r» I C > the global role of the USA, the future world order and the relevance of international law and the United Nations. One side is represented by the Anglo-American countries, in the middle are the countries of "Old Europe" and on the other side are "the Central and Eastern European" countries, who were still candidates for entry into the European Union at that time. In his later interview, Habermas further clarifies his way of thinking when he is asked, "Who belongs to core Europe?" O The 'ongoing' project of conducting a symbolically effective and mentality-forming common foreign policy [in relation to the USA - HN] must be undertaken by France, Germany, and the Benelux states. Then Italy and Spain would have to be won over. The Greek government may well be open to a joint initiative (Ibid., 5). To the questions "What role will Eastern Europe play in the future? Does the dividing line run between Europe and 'the Rest' due to the lack of shared experiences over the past 50 years?," Habermas answers as follows: we must keep three facts in mind. First, the changing tempo of European unification has always been determined by the agreement between France and Germany. ... Second, as the Eurozone demonstrates, there is already a Europe of different speeds (Habermas 2006, 52). For Habermas, the historical responsibility of the "avant-gardist core of Europe" - Germany and France foremost - was to function as a "locomotive" for European integration (Habermas and Derrida 2005, 6). Habermas and Derrida's appeal was not limited to European intellectuals. One of the controversies concerned Europe's relationship to the USA. Among many commentators taking part in the debate, Ralf Dahrendof and Timothy Garton Ash offered a clear stand that was shared by many others. They agreed with Habermas and Derrida that the "renewal of Europe [was] necessary" but emphasised that "this [would] never be accomplished by an endeavoured self-determination of Europe as un- or even anti-American. Each attempt to define Europe vis-à-vis the United States will not unify Europe but divide it" (Garton Ash and Dahrendorf 2005, 143). Commentators from the CEE countries remarked that firstly, the list of demonstrations that Habermas and Derrida presented did not include any Central and Eastern European cities, which denoted two things: first, that their European public sphere was not really pan-European but reflected only the capitals of what had been called Western Europe, and second, that there was not such strong popular sentiment against the US invasion in the Central and Eastern European capitals as in their Western counterparts. This leads to the second remark by the commentators: the list of differences distancing the USA and Europe offered by Habermas and Derrida did not necessarily resonate with the experience and feelings of the people in Eastern Europe (Biebricher 2011, 709-734). There are major contradictions is assessing what constitutes Europe and European experience, as shown, for example, by Stefano Bianchini (2011, 114) according to whom, Consistently, in their relations to Central and Eastern Europe, Western European countries have nurtured feelings and ideas of superiority - the belief that the other part of the old continent was backward... This behavior clearly explains why Western Europe has been and continues to be unable to recognize the other parts of Europe (and Central Europe specifically) as 'part of its own self.' In his infamous essay published in 1984, Milan Kundera claimed that West Europe had abandoned Central Europe and thinks and behaves as if Central Europe was part of the Russian-dominated homogeneous East: "Europe has not noticed the disappearance of its cultural home because Europe no longer perceives its unity as a cultural unity" (Kundera 1984, 134). From this perspective, it is now the Central European critical intelligentsia who are fighting to preserve the memory of Europe as a distinctive, cosmopolitan and multicultural entity. As Auksene Balcytiene (2011, 134-135) puts it, In general terms, Central European culture emerged from the dichotomy of the cultures of Rome and Byzantium ... that cultural dichotomy survives to this day. For the most part, it survives not so much in the geographies and territorial transformations of Europe, but rather in people's minds and imaginations. The Western World has supported this separation through the ages. For many centuries, it saw Central Europe as an incomplete and unfinished project - as an unrecognizable entity that is best associated with the unknowable East. The main target - or villain - of this criticism is France: "Once, Western Europe, or the West, was an area of centralised, homogeneous, and powerful states. It appeared to Central Europe as a Single France ... Western Europe was permeated by a belief in science and rationality, whereas Central Europe was not" (Donskis 2012a, 46). In contrast to this French-dominated image of Europe, the ideal of Mittel Europe is projected onto the "German cultural circle," which "traditionally included all (historic) German lands as well as Switeerland and Liechtenstein" (Žagar 2011, 78). In stark contrast to the nostalgia of the critical scholars in the West, which had its genesis in the European welfare statism of the 1960s and 1970s, Central European nostalgia seems to go farther back in history, to the period between the First and Second World Wars (the 1920s and 1930s). The dissidents of the 1980s saw that both the rule of Nazi Germany and Soviet-dominated socialism were "alien to the Central European societies" and "interrupted their 'natural' evolution and development," which would otherwise "have been democratic, even if the experience and practices of those countries in the first decades of the twentieth century might have been rather undemocratic"(Žagar 2011, 79). Q Conclusion The main argument of this article concerns the future of democracy as we £ have seen it develop in Europe over the last 60 years, after the Second World War. Our - here denoting academically educated middle class Europeans - way of conceiving democracy is based on an assumed continuous expansion of publicity and openness in all areas of social activities, in politics, economics and cultural life. This increasing publicness is seen as a requirement for truly democratic and well-informed citizenship. The guardians and forerunners of the expansion of publicity are critical intellectuals, who are supposed to represent universal values and interests on behalf of other social groups. In this article, the quest for more openness and publicity is seen as a continuation of the long historical development of the epistemic commons, which began in the Middle Ages and culminated in the legacy of the Enlightenment. The argument is that European modernity is fundamentally based on the assumption that knowledge and culture belong to the common domain and that the process of democra-tisation necessarily means removing restrictions on the epistemic commons. Over the last 20 to 30 years, this optimism has suffered from two kinds of backlashes. Firstly, from the 1970s onwards, a policy of weakening and privatising 0 £ i C > fM public institutions has practically halted the expansion of the epistemic commons. Instead, we can say that the process of enclosure has taken ground, exemplified by ro adopting the market-based principles of the New Public Management for educational, scientific and cultural institutions. However, in Europe, there is a tradition of critical scholarship and activism to defend and safeguard the democratic tradition. The second backlash concerns the fact that the other half of Europe, the CEE countries, did not benefit from the same kind of democratic development after the Second World War as their Western counterparts did. Thus, their expectations of and socio-political requirements for democracy were not based on practical experience but on promises and hopes, which were in turn based on the political and ideological realities of the Cold War period. Because there was no tradition of democratic public institutions, the critical intellectuals in the CEE countries were rather helpless in promoting the ideas of publicity and democratic citizenship. The difficult questions are as follows: What can the role of critical scholars in promoting the epistemic commons be today? How should we understand the legacy of the Enlightenment and avoid falling for nostalgia for the 1960s and 1970s? Perhaps, the first step should be an open dialogue regarding our perception of Europe and an acceptance of the fact that because of our different historical and cultural experiences, there are multiple Europes that we must simply learn to share. Notes: 1. The term has been used, for example, by Stephen Wright (2005). It is close to Elinor Ostrom's concept of "knowledge commons" (see Hess and Ostrom 2011; also IASC 2012) and James Boyle's "commons of the mind" (2008) as well. 2. "Each society has its regime of truth, its 'general politics' of truth: that is, the types of discourse that it accepts and makes function as true; the mechanisms and instances which enable one to distinguish true and false statements, the means by which each is sanctioned; the techniques and procedures accorded value in the acquisition of truth; the status of those who are charged with saying what counts as true" (Foucault 1980). 3. The concept of epistemic order comes close to Taylor's concept of moral order. See Taylor (2007). 4. This has been noted by Gripsrud (2002) and Splichal (2012), among others. 5. On the problem of methodological nationalism, see Wimmer and Glick Schiller (2002). 6. For a discussion of mediatisation, see Couldry and Hepp (2013). 7. For reflections, see Keane 1995, Garton Ash 1999 and Kaldor 2003. 8. Most of the CEE countries joined NATO (between 1999 and 2009) and the EU (between 2004 and 2007). 9. 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U S 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (I) 0 C i KD A CALL TO ARMS AN ESSAY ON THE ROLE OF THE INTELLECTUAL AND THE NEED TO PRODUCE NEW IMAGINARIES Abstract The essay takes a historical reflection on the identity of the intellectual as a starting point, highlighting four key debates that have tried to provide meaning to this identity. These debates concern the intellectual's class position, the intellectual's connection to other classes and social groups, the location of the intellectual and the relationship with the university, and the publicness of the intellectual. These debates then feed into a more engaged reflection on the desirability of intellectuals to intervene in a society characterised by three types of crisis - the crisis of representative democracy, the economic crisis and the crisis of mimesis - investigating how their rethorics can be transformed into counter-hegemonic discourses. Although it is argued that the production of new ideological projects is not straightforward - because of the complex relationship between agency and discursive structures, the evenly difficult relationship between complexity and simplicity, and the ontological issues triggered by the crisis of mimesis - the essay pleads for the establishment of networks of intellectuals, driven by principles of value centrality, modular collaboration and non-essentialism, that allow them to critically rethink our core social structures, in order to establish new horizons to imagine social change. nico carpentier Nico Carpentier is Associate Professor at the Communication Studies Department of VUB - Free University of Brussels and Lecturer at Charles University in Prague; e-mail: Nico.Carpentier@vub.ac.be. rN Cfi IV IV £± CP ro o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (fl 0 C ■I IV IV What's Left of the Intellectual? The origins of a concept are always complicated. Because intellectual practices extend so far back into history, many people have been acknowledged as producers of intellectual knowledge. These practices were sometimes situated in specific institutions, but in other cases, like the Republic of Letters in the 17th and 18th centuries, they were transnational and existed only in the minds of their members (Goldgar 1995, 2). Nonetheless, the concept of the intellectual originates from a discursive field that is of a much later date. As Cahm (1996, 69) argued, although "the campaigns of Voltaire and Victor Hugo" played an important role, the French Dreyfus Affair contributed significantly to the use of the concept of the intellectual. As Ignatief (1997) wrote, "There had been thinkers before - clerics and scholars; it was Voltaire who invented the public intellectual: the scourge of the church, the thorn in the side of princes, the acerbic habitué of beautiful women's salons." At the same time, the intellectual became an individualised phenomenon. A nice illustration can be found in Hugo's reference to Un homme de genie, in the poem Melancholia (in Les Contemplations, 1856) where we find the combination of the commitment to a social cause, the rejection of his message deemed unwelcome and his gendered nature. But we also find the man of genius's individualisation: Un homme de génie apparait. Il est doux, Il est fort, il est grand ; il est utile à tous; Comme l'aube au-dessus de l'océan qui roule, Il dore d'un rayon tous les fronts de la foule; Il luit ; le jour qu'il jette est un jour éclatant; Il apporte une idée au siècle qui l'attend; Il fait son auvre; il veut des choses nécessaires, Agrandir les esprits, amoindrir les misères; Heureux, dans ses travaux dont les cieux sont témoins, Si l'on pense un peu plus, si l'on souffre un peu moins! Il vient. — Certe, on le va couronner! — On le hue! (Victor Hugo - 1856 - see appendix for translation) During the Dreyfus Affair, the use of the concept of the intellectual changed. As Cahm (1996, 69) explains, "The Affair witnessed the birth of the modern idea of the intellectual committed as a member of a group, made up of writers, artists and those living by their intellect, who lend the backing of their reputation to the support of public causes." He continues: "... The committed intellectual is placed - willingly or otherwise - outside the power structures of his society, and he gives his opinion in the name of high ethical principles, without regard to ethical truths, and to the constraints and compromises inherent in action carried on within those structures." Emile Zola takes on a key role in the re-articulation of the concept of the intellectual when he publishes "J'accuse...!" in L'Aurore on 13 January 1898, in response to the acquittal of Ferdinand Esterhazy two days earlier. At the end of 1894, the French captain Alfred Dreyfus was condemned for treason and convicted to solitary confinement on Devil's Island (French Guiana). Attempts of the Drey-fusards to bring the real perpetrator - Ferdinand Esterhazy - to court and to have him convicted failed in 1898. The Esterhazy acquittal triggered the publication 0 £ i C > 00 IV of Zola's famous article as part of a strategy to provoke a new court case and to maintain the struggle for a retrial of Dreyfus. Before the opening of Zola's court CT> case in February 1898, Georges Clemenceau - one of L'Aurore's editors, and later ^ senator and prime minister of France - popularised1 the concept of the intellectual by writing (on 23 January 1898, in L'Aurore), "N'est-ce pas un signe, tous ces intellectuels, venus de tous les coins de l'horizon, qui se groupent sur une idée et s'y tiennent inébranlables." The intellectual was not the only signifier playing a role within this discursive field. Equally important was the concept of the intelligentsia, developed in the Russian empire of the 19th century. Intelligentsia was, for instance, used by the Russian poet, Vasily Zhukovsky; the Polish philosopher, Karol Libelt; and the Russian writer, Pyotr Boborykin (see Stearns 2008, 177; Hamburg 2010, 44). A broader concept than intellectuals, intelligentsia referred to a social class of people that were engaged in intellectual labour and the dissemination of culture. The relevance of the intelligentsia concept not only lies in its emphasis on the collective, but also in efforts mobilised to distinguish it from intellectuals. For instance, Max Weber thematised this distinction, as described by Sadri (1994, 69-70): When contrasted to intelligentsia—whom we define as the aggregate of the educated members of one particular stratum or some strata, possessing varying degrees of "status consciousness" - the category of the intellectuals comprises a small group of highly creative (often individualistic) individuals. An often borrowed analogy from economics portrays intellectuals as "producers" of those intellectual goods that are later disseminated and "consumed" in the market-place of ideal and material interests of the intelligentsia and (through their mediation) of other classes and strata. A Series of Key Debates on the Nature of the Intellectual These discussions raise a series of issues regarding the nature of intellectuals. First, there is the question of whether intellectuals are a class in and of themselves (see Kurzman and Owens 2002). The Dreyfus Affair demonstrated the possibility of constituting an alliance of intellectuals (in this case using the petition as an instrument); however, this alliance does not necessarily imply that intellectuals also form a social class. Some, including Gouldner (1979), have seen the combined force of intellectuals and intelligentsia as the beginning of a new social class based on a common identity and culture, shaped by educational experiences. However, authors like Bourdieu (see Swarte 1997, 224) have argued against this position, claiming that intellectuals take highly distinct positions as they are located within very different fields. In Marxist theory, notably in Gramsci's (1999a) work, intellectuals serve as mediators between common sense and hegemony rather than forming a separate class. Gramsci's position takes us to the second debate, that of the connection of intellectuals with social classes and specific struggles. Again, the Dreyfus Affair showed the commitment of (a group of) intellectuals towards a specific struggle: defending an innocent man against the relentless machinery of the state (and the army). Later, with the development of the notion of the organic intellectual in contrast to the traditional intellectual, authors like Gramsci argued the importance of intellectuals connecting with the people, becoming "intellectuals of these masses." To quote Gramsci (1999b, 331) at length on this point: ... one could only have had cultural stability and an organic quality of thought if there had existed the same unity between the intellectuals and the simple as there should be between theory and practice. That is, if the intellectuals had been organically the intellectuals of these masses, and if they had worked out and made coherent the principles and the problems raised by the masses in their practical activity, thus constituting a cultural and social bloc. The question posed here was the one we have already referred to, namely this: is a philosophical movement properly so called when it is devoted to creating a specialized culture among restricted intellectual groups, or rather when, and only when, in the process of elaborating a form of thought superior to 'common sense' and coherent on a scientific plane, it never forgets to remain in contact with the 'simple' and indeed finds in this contact the source of the problems it sets out to study and to resolve? Only by this contact does a philosophy become 'historical,' purify itself of intellectualistic elements of an individual character and become 'life.' These levels of intellectual commitment and engagement have not remained without critique. In his La trahison des clercs (translated as The Betrayal [or The Treason] of the Intellectuals) from 1927, Benda (1981, 89) criticises intellectuals for denouncing "the feeling of universalism, not only for the profit of the nation, but for that of a class." His critique points to a historical change, when he writes that: "[...] at the end of the nineteenth century a fundamental change occurred: the clerks began to play the game of political passions. The men who had acted as a check on the realism of the people began to act as its stimulators" (Benda 1981, 45). Nevertheless, other authors have argued against Benda's approach to intellectuals as "a tiny band of super-gifted and morally endowed philosopher-kings who constitute the conscience of mankind" (Said 1994, 4) without siding with Gramsci's position. For one, Said (1994, 23) sees the intellectual as "neither a pacifier nor a consensus-build-^ er, but someone whose whole being is staked on a critical sense." This statement also implies that there should never be "solidarity before criticism" (Said 1983, 28); the intellectual should always speak truth to power (which is the title of the fifth chapter of Said's (1994) Representations of the Intellectual). Said is not the only author to defend this position; Bourdieu gives a similar normative signification to intellectuals, who need to be "critics rather than servants of power" (Swarte 1997, 222). This idea can also be connected to Foucault's discussion on the ancient Greek use of the parrhesia concept, a concept that not only brings in the idea of speaking candidly (and asking forgiveness for speaking so), but also emphasises the risks ^ this way of speaking incorporates. To quote Foucault (1983, 15-16) here: So you see, the parrhesiastes is someone who takes a risk. Of course, this risk is not always a risk of life. When, for example, you see a friend doing something wrong and you risk incurring his anger by telling him he is wrong, you are acting as a parrhesiastes. In such a case, you do not risk your life, but you may hurt him by your remarks, and your friendship may C > B^Vl'K ty I./ l/t-1- III ft y I H I- ( ». I Hill VJ I L. < / 1 l/W IVf/ Mitu- ^VM.) J> H.J ttwvy consequently suffer for it. If, in a political debate, an orator risks losing his popularity because his opinions are contrary to the majority's opinion, or OQ his opinions may usher in a political scandal, he uses parrhesia. Parrhesia, then, is linked to courage in the face of danger: it demands the courage to speak the truth in spite of some danger. And in its extreme form, telling the truth takes place in the 'game' of life or death. The third debate is linked to the location of the intellectual. In the days of the Dreyfus Affair, intellectuals came from all walks of life; some were situated at universities, but many others worked as teachers, writers or journalists (or a combination of these professions). The security offered by university tenure meant that intellectuals flocked to the universities, creating certain problems (but also advantages). Of course, this drive to universities does not mean that the bohemian intellectual (as Eteioni (2006) calls him/her) has disappeared. The differences in structural positions remain, between "those who are beholden to an employer and are retained as advocates 'house intellectuals' and those who act as unencumbered critics" and between "those who are academically based and [...] those who are free-standing, making a living as writers, freelance editors, columnists, and so on" (Eteioni 2006, 10). Focussing on academics, we can use Eteioni's (2006, 10) basic dilemma that many contemporary intellectuals have to face: "becoming too academic and losing their influence with the relevant public and the governing elites, as well as becoming too 'popular,' sacrificing their ability to provide reality testing." Some authors are more critical towards academic intellectuals. Jacoby (1987) argued that academics tend to conform to university norms, aiming to be "mainstream" rather than independent. Other arguments point to the scarcity of resources combined with task accumulation and implementation of a quantitatively-driven audit culture, which increases the disciplining and surveillance of academics' activities. Authors employ these arguments to defend the ethics of slowness, for instance (see Leung, de Kloet and Chow 2010). Brouwer and Squires (2003, 205) take these critiques one step further and argue that "the university is unable to facilitate or sustain publicly relevant work; thus public intellectuals are primarily or exclusively to be found outside academe." In slightly more poetic language, Ignatief (1997) makes a similar point: "For the Enlightenment intellectual, for Samuel Johnson or Denis Diderot, the academy was mental death: the resting place for lethargic pedantry." This line of thinking is only a small step removed from the "declinist" idea, which holds that the intellectual has perished, an idea that appeared not only in Eagleton's (2008) article, but also in Ignatief's (1997) article mentioned earlier: Where are the independent intellectuals now? Worthy professors, cultural bureaucrats, carnival barkers, and entertainers. The death of the intellectual has left a void in the centre of public life. In place of thought, we have opinion; in place of argument, we have journalism; in place of polemic, we have personality profiles: in place of reputation, we have celebrity. The final debate builds on the aforementioned notion of the public intellectual; it relates to the channels that intellectuals use to have their voices heard in order to enter public spheres. Here, we should bear in mind that many fields of the social function as public spheres, including the cultural field (McGuigan 2005) and the scientific field (Giroux 2002; Encabo and Martin 2007). Moreover, different social fields and their organisations have varying regulatory systems that enable and disable people to gain access to these (and other) public spheres so that they can have their voices heard. These rules impact the access that intellectuals have to these organisations (to become an insider-member or to enter as an outsider-visitor), the ways they can interact with the organisation's structures, and how much decision-making powers intellectuals have when and if granted access. Moreover, because of their internal logics, different social fields and their organisations offer varying discursive affordances to intellectuals. Though some are more conducive to the presence of intellectuals than others, all spheres pose restrictions. This restrictive environment, for instance, applies to academia as a public sphere, which is part of the above-mentioned debate about the appropriateness of academia in harbouring intellectuals. Although vast in number, academia's own communicative channels pose severe restrictions on reaching a broader readership outside academia, with some exceptions (Thompson 2013, 148). In his critique on academic intellectuals, Jacoby (1987, 6) describes the situation for academic intellectuals as follows: "Campuses are their homes; colleagues their audience; monographs and specialized journals their media. [...] Independent intellectuals, who wrote for the educated reader, are dying out ..." However, the main debate about the use of communicative channels by intellectuals focuses on their use of the (mainstream) media, where they - in most cases - remain outsider-visitors that must comply to regulatory systems that are imposed upon them through the (mainstream) media logic. Public intellectuals are expected to use mass communication tools, a situation that Brouwer and Squires (2003, 204) summarise in this manner: Crucial to earning the status of public intellectual is the ability to find or cultivate a broad audience. Here, radio and televisional technologies play a significant role, serving as media through which the scholar disseminates ideas. In some cases, media access is insufficiently public, however, for the intellectual must also successfully translate heady academic idiom into accessible, plain language. Presumably, vernacular languages invites wider audiences, and wider audiences predict greater social or political y effectiveness [...] Nevertheless, there are also critical voices that challenge this expectation, £ pointing to the cost associated with what some would call the mediatisation or the spectaclisation of academia (Polan 1990). Posner (2009, 63) mentions two types of costs related to media performances: opportunity costs, which are caused by the time investment of participating in media performances and "the risk of making a fool of oneself," as "the public intellectual functions without a safety net." This second cost can be seen as the condensed version of the more structural critique that (mainstream) media have difficulties in providing spaces for intellectual interventions or debate due to their particular production values and practices. Some have argued for a withdrawal from mainstream media - which they see as a populist system (see Corijn 2004; Blommaert 2004). They suggest looking for solutions outside "the established structures, originating from structures that remain outside the view of the [mainstream] media, that generate sufficient complexity and critique to induce alternative scenarios for the future" (Corijn 2004, 59 - my 0 £ i C > — — „—.—„„^——^—^ — translation). Not surprisingly, others point to the opportunities provided by the internet as an alternative public sphere. Dahlgren (2013) explicitly refers to online OQ public intellectuals and web intellectuals; with some prudence, he argues that it is "the growing terrain between traditional journalism and newer modes of advocacy that offers the most potential for their [online] activities" (Dahlgren 2013, 98). The Need for Intervention Moving into a more essayist style of writing in this third section, I would like to argue that we should not accept the death of the (academic) intellectual thesis -here Baert and Shipman's (2011) transformational argument might be preferable - but we should also not deny the restrictions that intellectuals have to face when speaking truth to power when they are located in academia. I would like to defend the intellectual, even though even the signifier has been discredited in common sense environments, articulated with presumptuousness and vanity. In addition, I would like to argue that the present configuration of accumulated crises has created an even stronger need for intellectuals to speak out. These crises are experienced in many different ways within multiple centres and peripheries, and across genders, ages and classes, where for instance, the middle and upper classes in many places in the (first) world still maintain their high living standards. Given my location in the Western hemisphere, I will unavoidably speak from this position, with the understanding that there are many others. First of all, in the Western world, there is a crisis of representative democracy (see e.g., Köchler, 1987). The strong emphasis on representation (to the detriment of high(er) levels of participation) has not managed to stimulate continuous popular mobilisations and a strong effective relationship with the state's institutions. Although this lack is sometimes translated as apathy (see Dahlgren 2013, 11, for a critique), it is more likely a symptom of the crises of representative democracy, not a cause. What we can see instead is that the political system, established for conflict management, has shown itself to be structurally inadequate for providing its populations with negotiated and acceptable solutions to a wide variety of problems. Although institutional politics and some citizens still cherish fantasies of control and social makeability (Carpentier 2011), these fantasies become frequently and intensely frustrated, showing the powerlessness of governments to intervene successfully to better citizens' lives. Arguably, democratic legitimacy could be added to the list of fantasies, given the low levels of trust in governments, sometimes moving into the realm of contempt, and the slumbering decrease in popular support for actual (democratic) politics. These frustrations expose democracy to intense dangers, as modernist projects, such as nationalism, become (re-)articulated with democracy, seeding antagonisms in the necessarily welcoming soil of democracy. A second crisis, overlapping with the first one, is the economic crisis. Arguably, a period of economic instability now has lasted for about 40 years,2 with the end of the Bretton Woods system and the global stock market crash in the 1970s, with the Asian and Russian financial crises in the 1990s, and with the global financial crisis ("the Great Recession") from the end of the 2000s onwards. At this stage, in the 2010s, the economic crisis has hit Europe hard, especially countries like Greece, Portugal, Cyprus, Iceland and Ireland, but also including Spain, Italy and others. Within neo-liberal logics, austerity measures are still seen as a primary European strategy, despite critiques like Stuckler and Basu's book, The Body Economic: Why Austerity Kills. Here, too, we combine myopia with amnesia, ignoring the structural nature of these moments of crises - cruel fluctuations are a necessary component of the capitalist system, even if corrections have been applied to limit the more problematic consequences. Neo-liberal discourses do provide us with answers, but these answers unfortunately boil down to more neo-liberalism. The ultimate removal of the final economic barrier functions as a key fantasy, beholding the promise of wealth and stability while disguising the necessarily conjunctural nature of capitalism (and the inequalities and human catastrophes it encompasses) behind the ideology of unfettered growth. The cost of this neo-liberal social contract is high and not limited to economic dimensions, also including the structural violence of poverty. The colonising impact of capitalism has reached far beyond the limits of the economic system and tends to rearticulate human relationships, at the individual but also at the institutional level, by reducing them to their economic value or by instrumentalising them for the benefit of the economic system. A third crisis, situated at the more ontological level, is the crisis of mimesis. Obtaining immediate access to our social realities remains a deeply-rooted desire, frustrated by the incessant workings of diversity and the contingency of the social. At specific historical moments, discourses - for instance produced by religious machineries - have offered reassuring certainties that maintained human beliefs that the world is a stable and homogenous place that could be mimetically accessed. In the contemporary conjuncture, this consolation is not offered to us, as Lyotard's (1984) argument about the end of the grand narratives illustrates. We are still struggling with this multi-directionality of the social, and with the idea that all things are wholly contingent. At the same time, ideological projects that offer the promise of mimesis, of immediate and unmediated understanding, still exist and play a key role. Some, such as neo-liberalism or militarism, have become hegemonic; meanwhile, nation-, ethnicity- and religion-based fundamentalisms (Sim 2004) are making a remarkable return in many parts of the world. We should not underestimate their strength, but more than ever before, these discourses find it difficult to hide their cracks and gaps as well as their impossibilities and vulnerabilities. I would like to propose that this crisis is not the real problem. On the contrary, the crisis of mimesis can be benevolent if we manage to overcome it, but so far, instead of abandoning it, we have embraced it even more. More problematically is that these discourses sometimes exclusively privilege individualism and freedom, nationalism and religious fundamentalism. Unification on the basis of antagonism has been strengthened. In this process, the discourses that foreground equality, solidarity, brother and sisterhood, ethics, cosmopolitanism and pacifism have been weakened, reverting them to secondary positions, or sometimes, even fundamentally rejecting them. Critical Ideologies - Under Construction The accumulation, articulation and integration of these three crises create the need for the (intensified) development of critical ideologies that at least offer counterweights to the dominant hegemonies that have maintained their presence over the years, despite these crises. The importance of ideology, as a mobilising and sense-making force, should not be underestimated. Social change requires the re-orientation of a wide variety of social practices, and it cannot work without discourse.3 Discourse has the combined capacity of providing frameworks of intelligibility QQ and intervention, guiding thoughts and material actions. It travels through public 3 a c > and private fields like politics, economics, education, civil society, family and media. Obviously, neo-liberalism is a discourse, a way to structure, understand LH and organise the world. Simultaneously, it has obtained a particular status, as it is ^ hegemonic, "linking together different identities into a common project" (Howarth 1998, 279). In this sense, neo-liberalism has become a social imaginary, that is, a horizon that "is not one among other objects but an absolute limit which structures a field of intelligibility and is thus the condition of possibility of the emergence of any object" (Laclau 1990, 64). The discourse of neo-liberalism has become omnipresent, infiltrating the ways we think and feel in a wide variety of societal fields. It has been sedimented into a wide variety of practices and structures, which range from local businesses (like the greengrocers around the corner) to global organisations, such as multinationals, the World Bank and the IMF. This phenomenon has transformed neo-liberalism into a global discourse. Still, hegemony is never total. Within the logics of hegemony, many variations remain possible, as discourses can never capture the social reality in its entirety, and they are not safe from material events in the social world. In New Reflections on the Revolution of our Time, Laclau introduced the concept of dislocation to theorise about these limits of discursive structures. Laclau first defined dislocations as more specific processes or events: "dislocation refers to the emergence of an event, or a set of events, that cannot be represented, symbolized, or in other ways disrupted by the discursive structure—which is therefore disrupted" (Torfing, 1999, 148). Obviously, discourses can adjust themselves to these dislocations, re-articulating themselves so that (former) dislocations can become incorporated, providing new meanings to dislocatory events.4 But in other cases, dislocations can render a specific hegemonic order unsustainable, so that it can (and needs to) be replaced. Laclau also discussed dislocation in a more general way, claiming that "every identity is dislocated insofar as it depends on an outside which denies that identity and provides its condition of possibility at the same time" (Laclau 1990, 39). Identities and structures cannot be determined and be determining, as they are always faced with dislocations showing that other articulations are possible as well. In other words, dislocations show that the structure before the dislocation is only one of the possible articulatory ensembles (Laclau 1990, 43). In this sense, dislocation is the "very form of possibility" (Laclau 1990, 42). This argument opens the door for counter-hegemonic discourses that aim to weaken and eventually replace a hegemonic order, as Mouffe (2005, 18) formulates it: "Every hegemonic order is susceptible of being challenged by counter-hegemonic practices, i.e., practices which will attempt to disarticulate the existing order so as to install other forms of hegemony." The political and economic crises indeed have provided structural dislocations of the Western discursive neo-liberal order, where core fantasies become intensely frustrated. At the same time, until now, this hegemonic order has managed to incorporate the multitude of dislocations. In the case of the political crisis of representation, the concept of apathy, for instance, functions as one protective discursive strategy to silence critical voices by placing the blame on citizens and simultaneously immobilising them. Obviously, at the material level, the generation of sufficient wealth has appeased the citizenry by creating a much-to-lose situation. This scenario brings us to the economic crisis, where the neo-liberal hegemony has protected itself with the discursive strategies of austerity and privatisation as solu- tions, thus reducing government redistribution and increasing the role of market players while articulating increased competition as the way out. Arguably, these dislocations were relatively easy to incorporate because of the absence of well-developed counter-hegemonies that could provide alternative ways of thinking about these crises and new social horizons for organising the social in a more humane way. This absence unavoidably puts the burden on intellectuals, who are - if apathy has not struck them too deeply - still highly qualified to construct such a renewed ideological project. There is, of course, a history of intellectual projects where intellectuals have left behind their agoraphobia - that sometimes haunts them - to develop a project that challenges the status-quo. Despite the sometimes raw distinctions that ground its ideas, the Frankfurter Schule is an obvious example where members developed a critical theory in juxtaposition to traditional theory. In the article, "Critical and Traditional Theory," Horkheimer (1937/1972, 197) describes traditional theory as that which "speaks not of what theory means in human life, but only of what it means in the isolated sphere in which for historical reasons it comes into existence." In contrast, critical theory "considers the overall framework which is conditioned by the blind interaction of individual activities (that is, the existent division of labour and the class distinctions) to be a function which originates in human action" (Horkheimer 1937/1972, 207). The production of new ideological projects by intellectuals is not a straightforward project for a number of reasons. First of all, there is the complex relationship between agency and discursive structures. Specific actors can easily generate rhetorics, but for these rhetorics to be translated into discourse,5 more is needed. Moreover, there is no guarantee that this translation will work, given the contingency of the social and the possibility of a multitude of interpretations and re-articulations. Discourses are social constructions that emanate from collective processes; individual actors cannot easily create them consciously. There is also a democratic dimension to this phenomenon, as people have to contribute to the uptake of an ideology, and translate rhetorics into discourse through the public spheres. At the same time, we should not forget that particular individuals have played key roles in the construction of ideological projects by creating rhetorics that reverberate in/with the social and its public sphere, thus providing intellectual J anchorage points to which other rhetorics can connect and relate. Of course, it is a myth that these individuals were creative genii, acting alone. Ideologies are created by communicating and negotiating networks of intellectuals, strengthening each other's ideas without moving (too far) outside the main premises of the ideological project under construction. The second problem is the difficult relationship between complexity and simplicity. Ideology often is perceived as having a tendency towards simplicity, ^ while intellectual projects tend to celebrate complexity. Without denying the need for ideology to be a straightforward representation of past, present and future, it should be added that ideology's sophistication lies in its apparent simplicity. Such simplicity manages to span and mobilise a variety of auxiliary discourses in order to provide meaning to a multitude of practices, ideas and events while facilitating communicability. Arguably, ideology's complexity lies exactly in its simplicity, and it requires thorough analysis to generate rhetorics that have the in-built structural OQ capacity to be sustainable as ideology. 0 £ i C I Finally, we also should face the issues triggered by the crisis of mimesis and develop sense-making models that are both modern and postmodern. Strategic essentialism, defined by Spivak (1987, 205) as "a strategic use of positivist essen- ^ tialism in a scrupulously visible political interest," remains a crucial component of critical projects. It allows discourses to be both self-reflexive and bold, shouting loud about injustices while mumbling consciously about their own limitations. Which New Ideology? The two crises - of representative democracy and of the economy - generate the need to structurally rethink the contemporary configuration, which is exactly a project where intellectuals could (and should) play a leading role. But we should also acknowledge that this contemporary configuration is utterly complex, and that present-day hegemonies that contribute to the crises have become deeply embedded within the social. The constructive crisis of mimesis potentially also works against clear ideological projects. This situation has rendered the development of a counter-hegemonic project necessary yet extraordinarily difficult. Arguably, this complexity requires a multi-voiced project, where different intellectuals form networks and work together, positioned in a diversity of fields of expertise. The homo universalis has become rare, and we should acknowledge the intellectuals' limits. Nonetheless, these limits can be overcome by networked groups of intellectuals using the strategy of modularity. Inspired by software culture, this strategy consists of sub-networks of intellectuals collaborating within their fields, building ideological modules on the basis of their expertise, in combination with interdisciplinary articulatory practices that connect and integrate these different modules into one counter-hegemonic project. What I, only half-jokingly, would like to call a new republic of letters should be simultaneously open, allowing for cross-fertilisation and dissent between the members of the network, and focussed, permitting the creation of a common ideological project. Both components are necessary, but have proven difficult in the past to realise. For instance, this ideological project has been prevented by the combination of individualistic and egocentric tendencies with a focus on minute (and not always so relevant) details in developing plans for the future. Here, I would argue that it is necessary to start from a key set of shared discourses - sometimes called values - to construct these networks of intellectuals. Obviously, the establishment of several networks leading to different alternative ideologies remains perfectly plausible and even desirable. Going further down the road of self-positioning, I would here like to propose a number of values that could provide the backbone of this ideological project. The crisis of representative democracy should not cause us to forget the importance of the democratic project itself, and the democratic values of empowerment, participation and human rights. Even if neo-liberalism has captured the signifier freedom, we should not give up on this value, but firmly re-articulate it within a social discourse that propagates solidarity and equality, care and love for the other. Individualism is one of the natural allies of neo-liberalism, and there is a strong need to rethink the position of the subject within the social without giving up on subjectivity. Apart from agreeing on the core values of a new ideological project to create a new way of thinking about these values (and the social), we also need to rethink the diversity of social structures. Here the question becomes how to (re)organise the social so that this new philosophy can be translated into social practice. This question brings us to the economic crisis and the need to rethink economic activity so that wellbeing can be generated without equating wellbeing and welfare to wealth, without the contradictory fetishisation of competition as the ultimate model to guarantee social happiness, and without the many paying such a high and reoccurring price for the few. In addition, the role of the media industry and its not-for-profit counterparts (whether they are community radio stations or alternative websites) in the public spheres require further reconsideration, channelling the dispersed opportunities offered by "old" and "new" media technologies into participatory networks that built on earlier models, such as the Indymedia network (Kidd 2003). One other element of this social structure that I would like to nominate as an area requiring structural rethinking is the role of the state. Both critical and neo-liberal approaches share a focus on the state, albeit attributing different roles to it. In the more critical approaches, the state is seen as a protecting force whose political and economic weight needs to be increased and who needs to be reclaimed. At least, this reclamation was the outcome of the struggle between Marxists and anarchists. The latter saw the state as a threat to freedom, but anarchism failed to put its mark on the critical project. In the neo-liberal approaches, the state is a wasteful and disruptive structure, whose political (and most definitely its economic) weight needs to be minimised. Interestingly enough, all approaches share this focus on the state, whether as something to be abandoned or minimised, or as something to be reclaimed and expanded. There only seems to be a choice between one state or no state, which excludes the idea of simultaneously having different (parallel) states. The state now has proven itself incapable of solving or reducing the impact of the crisis of representative democracy or of the economic crisis. I, thus, would like to argue that we need to investigate the idea of building states within the state, working in parallel with the hegemonic state, structured in a rhizomatic, and not arbolic, way (see Deleuze and Guattari 1987). We need to align a variety of small initiatives and organisations that are committed to participatory democracy and alternative economies. We also should investigate the already existing initiatives that have put these commitments into practice, but too often remain locked in the local - although translocal initiatives do exist (Appadurai 1995; Carpentier 2007b). I would like to argue that these steps are almost unavoidable for building a new counter-hegemonic ideology. A Brief Conclusion This brings me to the last challenge, and that is to use the constructive force of the crisis of mimesis to avoid this new counter-hegemonic ideology becoming a new essentialism. Even when forms of strategic essentialism are deployed, it ^ remains necessary to include the idea of contingency within a counter-hegemonic ideology. Such contingency helps to avoid a future in which this new model (or models) becomes an undeniable truth or a new hegemony. Hubris, and the idea that a select group of critical intellectuals could have privileged access to truth, needs to be countered by ontological modesty. A certain level of ideological auto-decon-struction needs to be embedded in any counter-hegemonic project. Finally, I would like to emphasise once more that intellectuals are very well-OQ placed to develop this kind of ideological project, and that they, given the nature £ i C and intensities of the crises, have a strong social responsibility to do so. Academics working in the contemporary factories of ideas are not and should not be exonerated from this responsibility. Of course, many different relationships between intellectuals, academics and sciences can exist. Intellectuals can use many different types of rhetorics, and many critical rhetorics have been developed already. However, there is still a need to not only make the invisible visible and show the particularity of universality, but also to imagine the unimaginable. This necessity will require many intellectuals to overcome their agoraphobia, to develop new ideological projects and to communicate them in the variety of public spheres that are available to them or need to be reclaimed. Notes: 1. Establishing the first use of a term is always difficult. Finkielkraut (2005, 241) attributes it to Saint-Simon in 1821. 2. For a graphic representation, see http://prezi.com/mxyogdntyt6y/perpetual-crisis-a-timeline-of-40-years-of-economic-instability. 3. Discourse here is used in its macrotextual and macrocontextual meaning - see Laclau and Mouffe (1985). 4. For instance, during the 2003 Gulf War when no weapons of mass destruction were found, the legitimisation for "just" war changed and became linked to the protection of the Iraqi people against a dictator (Carpentier 2007a). 5. At least in the definition of discourse used here - see above. References: Appadurai, Arjun. 1995. The Production of Locality. In R. Fardon (ed.), Counterworks. 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New Theories of Discourse: Laclau, Mouffe and Žižek. Oxford: Blackwell. Q Vega Encabo, Martin Jesus, Martin Gil, and Javier Francisco. 2007. Science as Public Sphere? Social q^ Epistemology 21, 1, 5-20. (I) 0 (B Appendix: Victor Hugo's Melancholia Un homme de génie apparait. Il est doux, Il est fort, il est grand ; il est utile à tous ; Comme l'aube au-dessus de l'océan qui roule, Il dore d'un rayon tous les fronts de la foule ; Il luit ; le jour qu'il jette est un jour éclatant ; Il apporte une idée au siècle qui l'attend ; Il fait son reuvre ; il veut des choses nécessaires, Agrandir les esprits, amoindrir les misères ; Heureux, dans ses travaux dont les cieux sont témoins, Si l'on pense un peu plus, si l'on souffre un peu moins ! Il vient. — Certe, on le va couronner ! — On le hue ! Scribes, savants, rhéteurs, les salons, la cohue, Ceux qui n'ignorent rien, ceux qui doutent de tout, Ceux qui flattent le roi, ceux qui flattent l'égout, Tous hurlent à la fois et font un bruit sinistre. Si c'est un orateur ou si c'est un ministre, On le siffle. Si c'est un poète, il entend Ce chreur : « Absurde ! faux ! monstrueux ! révoltant ! » Lui, cependant, tandis qu'on bave sur sa palme, Debout, les bras croisés, le front levé, l'reil calme, Il contemple, serein, l'idéal et le beau ; Il rève ; et, par moments, il secoue un flambeau Qui, sous ses pieds, dans l'ombre, éblouissant la haine, Éclaire tout à coup le fond de l'àme humaine ; Ou, ministre, il prodigue et ses nuits et ses jours ; Orateur, il entasse efforts, travaux, discours ; Il marche, il lutte ! Hélas ! l'injure ardente et triste, À chaque pas qu'il fait, se transforme et persiste. Nul abri. Ce serait un ennemi public, Un monstre fabuleux, dragon ou basilic, Qu'il serait moins traqué de toutes les manières, Moins entouré de gens armés de grosses pierres, Moins hai' ! - Pour eux tous et pour ceux qui viendront, Il va semant la gloire, il recueille l'affront. Le progrès est son but, le bien est sa boussole ; Pilote, sur l'avant du navire il s'isole ; Tout marin, pour dompter les vents et les courants, Met tour à tour le cap sur des points différents, Et, pour mieux arriver, dévie en apparence ; Il fait de mème ; aussi blàme et cris ; l'ignorance Sait tout, dénonce tout ; il allait vers le nord, Il avait tort ; il va vers le sud, il a tort ; Si le temps devient noir, que de rage et de joie ! Cependant, sous le faix sa tète à la fin ploie, L'àge vient, il couvait un mal profond et lent, Il meurt. L'envie alors, ce démon vigilant, Accourt, le reconnait, lui ferme la paupière, Prend soin de la clouer de ses mains dans la bière, Se penche, écoute, épie en cette sombre nuit S'il est vraiment bien mort, s'il ne fait pas de bruit, S'il ne peut plus savoir de quel nom on le nomme, Et, s'essuyant les yeux, dit : « C'était un grand homme ! » A man of genius appears. He is soft, He is strong, he is tall; he serves everyone; Like dawn above the rolling ocean, He casts a ray of gold on every face in the crowd; He shines, the light he throws off bursts with brightness; He brings an idea to a century awaiting it; He does his work, he seeks those things needed To grow spirits, lessen misery; Happy in his works to which the heavens are witness, That one would think a little more and suffer a little less! He comes! Surely they'll crown him! They boo! Scribes, savants, specifiers, salons, the crowd, Those unaware of nothing, those skeptical of all, Those who flatter the king, those who flatter the gutter, All shout at once and it makes a sinister noise. Be he a minister, be he a poet, They whistle at him. Be he a poet, he hears This chorus: "Absurd! fake! monstrous! disgusting!" He, however, though they spit in his palm, Stands, arms crossed, head high, eyes calm, He contemplates, serene, the beautiful and the ideal; He dreams; and at moments he waves a torch That, beneath his feet, in the shadows, casts its glow on hatred, Revealing all at once the depths of the human soul. As a minister he wastes his days and nights, Orator, he piles up drafts, works, speeches; He works, he fights! Alas! the sad, burning wound Transforms and persists with his every step. No shelter. He will be a public enemy, would be A fabled monster, a dragon or basilisk, Were he less hunted in every way, Less in danger of being stoned, Less hated. - For everyone and those to come He goes forth sowing glory; he harvests affrontment. Progress is his goal, the good his compass. Pilot, he is isolated at the front of the boat. Every sailor, to keep control in the winds and currents, Changes his heading from point to point, Steers a crooked course the better to arrive straightaway; He does the same; result: blame and shouting; ignorance Knows all, denounces all; he went North, He was wrong; he goes South, he is wrong again; If the weather turns foul, what rage and joy! However, his head at last bows beneath the weight, Age comes, lays a slow, deep sickness upon him, He dies. Envy then, that vigilant demon, Runs in, recognizes him, closes his eyes, Takes care to nail his hands to the bier, Leans in, listens, looks in the somber night To see that he is dead, that he makes no sound, That he can no longer know the name by which he was called, And, wiping his eyes, says: "This was a great man!" en Translation Geoffrey Barto, 2003 a 0 £ fr 1 fr (I) 0 C 1 cm Ch REBORDERING THE PERSPECTIVE ON THE EU: A VIEW FROM THE SLOVENIAN PERIPHERY ksenija vidmar horvat co o Abstract This paper investigates the prospect of the revival of the European integration project in light of current experiences of global financial crisis. It is argued that the crisis has left an uneven mark on the European community of member state publics, a mark which has introduced a new division between the allegedly diligent North and lazy South. Moreover, the experience of public humiliation of the peripheral states in crisis, i.e., Greek, Cyprus, Spain, Slovenia, perceived as coming from the centres of the EU and the North, has made it difficult to continue with the construction of the postnational constitution, as suggested by scholars of the EU. Rather, EU public is witness to the rise of the condition of internal postcoloniality whereby the periphery has become the resource (in economic, financial and cultural-moral sense) for the reproduction of the power regimes of the centre. Therefore, in this paper, it is claimed that leading European intellectuals who are concerned with the future of the EU, and propose scenarios of bottom-up reconstitution, should consider their own location and build an intellectual transversal which will include critical voices with peripheral experience of second-class citizenship. Ksenija Vidmar Horvat is Professor at Department of Sociology, Faculty of Arts, University of Ljubljana; e-mail: Ksenija.VidmarHorvat@ff.uni-lj.si. ro Cfi £± CP ro o o rN rN I £ 3 a 0 £ * 1 * (fl 0 C i m Ch This paper addresses the question of the future of the EU in relation to the formation of the European public sphere. The question is approached from the perspective of the role of intellectuals in and from small nations, in particular the member states that are on the periphery of both intellectual governance and decision-making as regards EU integration processes. It is argued that the current European project needs a fresh perspective and that this perspective can yield public trust only insofar as it is based on principles of an inclusive, polycentric and pluralistic model of negotiation of the European future. This means a profound rearrangement of the relationship between the centre and the margins and a new critical dialogue between intellectuals of the "core" (i.e. France, Germany, the UK) and the peripheral nations. The argument is derived from critical observation of the state of current European integration in response to the global financial crisis and an emerging condition that I will call European internal postcoloniality. This condition, I will show, is an emerging "structure of feeling" among the publics on the southern borders of the EU, whose experience of the global crisis has been associated with a deep trauma of humiliation (Smith 2013). Humiliation has included both a sense of unjust and unfair division of the burden of austerity measures between the financial elites and the ordinary people and of the degradative attitude of the European "centres" of power towards the most unfortunate member states. Dealing with this trauma will be an essential part of progressive post-crisis development and a hopeful scenario of resuming the process of EU integration towards a European society, once national financial economies have been at least minimally consolidated. To be able to move beyond this collective sense of injustice on the periphery, the EU needs publicly to acknowledge the state of crisis of the European project and to announce its commitment to managing the post-crisis condition. I argue that this process should include both reconciliation and reconstruction, which are integral to the successful re-articulation of the idea of building a common European public sphere. Two elements can be identified as most critical. First, among the publics of the peripheral nations of the last enlargement, such as Slovenia, there is a strong sense that the European project has been defined, governed and controlled from the centre of Europe. Western European states, in particular France and Germany (Habermas 2012; Beck 2013; Smith 2013) are seen as dictating the pace and the rules ^ of integration, and the emerging postwar European landscape has been increasingly perceived to be the outcome of conditions imposed by hegemonic forces of the centre. In part, this is related to the pre-EU-membership memories of the actual or perceived servility of national elites to the EU, as, for instance, in accepting the dictates of "EU conditionally" (Ette and Faist 2007). Second, and related, the global financial crisis has revealed that the "reward" for going through this early "integration through humiliation" stage, namely the ^ building of a transnational EU society with a common European public sphere based on shared loyalty and mutual solidarity, has been nothing but a political myth. At the time of writing, it has become clear that the idea of one European society, based on the social contract as defined by the Maastricht Treaty (with the list of core European values) is a phantom construct implanted in the national publics of the EU member states, a wishful projection with no special responsibilities attached to it. The discourse of austerity, dictated from the financial centres (IMF, European Central Bank, Deutsche Bundesbank), made this clear to the humiliated 0 £ i C > on the peripheries, while adding to this the image of a new geographic anatomy of inequality, an image providing scant comfort. The post-Cold-war ideology that posited the uneven histories of relations between the West and the East as the major ^ obstacle to a fully integrated European society has given way to a new division taking the form of a conflict between the allegedly diligent Protestant North and the relaxed and lazy South. The current attempt at redrawing a map of inequalities, associated with discourses of morality and guilt, calls for a critical intervention by intellectuals. Intellectuals in leading "core" member states have already reacted to the emerging hegemonic map of a post-crisis EU with a strong critique of the current one. However, the intellectual engagement needs to undergo a transformation, too. As Kuipers has self-critically argued recently, many European academics fail to reflect upon the "hegemonic system of which we are part" (Kuipers 2014, 78). However, whereas she refers to a "cloak of universality" of the knowledge produced by European scholars, which often lacks consideration of relevance for transnational publics (e.g. "from where we are writing," "for whom are we writing"), the notion of "European academics" is, in my view, equally imbued with neo-colonial power-knowledge, which hegemonises within the EU (or Europe). European academia continues to be seen in the privileged social terms of class, race and gender, as well as geographic locations in the West. Theoretical contributions intended to have a real impact on social experiences and the "practical knowledge" of EU citizens can only be intellectually and publicly effective if the core intellectual sphere profoundly opens up towards researchers and the publics on the periphery of the EU. This means that, to be able to resolve the challenge of the future of the EU, political and intellectual reconstruction of the EU will have to begin by dissipating the trauma caused, in part, by the legacies of internal postcoloniality in the realm of the production of public knowledge and the EU public. Consequently, perhaps for the first time, the future of the EU will indeed be in the hands of its postnational public. The Idea of the EU Constitution: A Misguided Decade In his famous article "Why Europe needs a constitution," Jürgen Habermas was among the first to pave the way to thinking of the EU as a postnational democratic political project. In his essay, as well as in later works (Habermas 2001b, 2009, 2011, 2012), Habermas notes that the idea of egalitarian universalism, which has been an integral part of the national project and ethno-national solidarity, is being challenged by individualism and multiculturalism. Solidarity can no longer be rooted in the idea of a shared past, since the European people are heirs to many pasts, and, as in the case of European citizens from former European colonies, also to histories of mutual collisions. Moreover, globalisation has forced nation states to open up to multiple identities and new forms of cultural life (Habermas 2001a, 84). Therefore, the dominant cultural communities, which in the past were also the sole agents of developing a shared political culture, now need to let go of this historically made connection and begin to insert solidarity into a more abstract frame. This would also be the basis for the new postnational constellation of the EU, whereby we, in Habermas's words, the heirs of "late barbarian nationalism," are yet again faced with a task similar to that of the early nationalists - to create solidarity among strangers (Habermas 2001a, 103). Instead of building on a humanist idea of solidarity, however, engineers of the European project have taken a different path. The Maastricht Treaty speaks directly of shared "great values in common," the "core values" and the "shared legacy of classical civilisation" (Shore 2006, 13). The intent, as Shore writes, was to "help forge a collective European consciousness and identity," as well as to "reconfigure the public imagination by Europeanising some of the fundamental categories of thought" (ibid., 15). However, the shared values soon become re-narrated into a shared European identity, which becomes constructed less as a civic-political entity and more as a cultural tie among the diverse national heritages of the member states (Vidmar Horvat 2012). Instead of working towards laying the ground for democratic development by invoking humanist philosophical traditions of, for example, Kantian global justice or Gadamer' s broadening of horizons, we are, at the beginning of the 21st century, witness to the rebirth of a 19th-century myth-producing machine that envisions Europe as a "mosaic of cultures" engraved with shared "cultural roots" and a common heritage (Pieterse 1991, Shore 2006). It could be argued, however, that the past decade's reversion to cultural identity as a common ground on which to build solidarity and identification among Europeans was a misguided effort. It may have been introduced with good intentions to overcome the democratic deficit, to compensate for the lack of political engagement by raising cultural consciousness (Vidmar Horvat 2012). The engineers of this "cultural turn" in the EU politics of identity may have also counted on a therapeutic effect. As Zygmunt Bauman has observed, "It has been the erosion of 'we-can-do-it' self-confidence that triggered a sudden explosion of acute interest in a 'new European identity,' and in 'redefining the role' of Europe in order to match the current planetary game - a game in which the rules and stakes have drastically changed and continue to change, albeit no longer as a result of European initiatives or under Europe's control, and with minimal, if any, influence by Europe itself" (Bauman 2012b, 3). However, the EU culturalist rhetoric has produced a wide communicative gap between values and practices, between ethics and politics. On the one hand, while fortifying the discourse of respect for others (including the cause of global justice), the EU has been selectively closing its external borders while silently creating internal "apartheid" (Balibar 2004). On the other hand, and most importantly for this argument, the opening towards Eastern Europe reconstituted J the meaning of the EU "borderland" (ibid.). In the immediate period after the last two enlargements in 2004 and 2007, some saw the eastward enlargement of the EU as the entry phase into a new history wherein the periphery countries would become the defining spaces of the postnational European empire (Delanty 2007; for more on this, see also Vidmar Horvat, 2009). Today, it can be concluded that the periphery, both the "new" post-socialist (e.g. Slovenia) and the "old" (Spain, Greece, Cyprus), has indeed become a centre, but not in the sense of providing a ^ new strong zone of EU internal development and outward expansion: the periphery has become a challenging borderland, announcing the potential rebirth as well as the collapse of the EU project. Post-Westphalian Public? The project of creating a "European public" seemed much more democratic. Again, it is legitimate to be suspicious about good intentions when the initiatives 0 £ i (B KD ^ come from the political elites. As Splichal put it, at one point, it was unclear "whether the EPS is quasi 'imposed' and 'essentialised' by the EU or the researchers involved in trying to investigate it" (Splichal, quoted in Krzyzanowski et al. 2009, 1). Moreover, as Koopmans and Erbe (2003) warned very early on, "there has been a tendency in literature to view the notion of a European public sphere in a narrow way, derived from an ideal-typical conception of the national public sphere." Thus, the authors continue, the probability of the development of transnational media or transnational collective action is usually seen as thwarted beforehand - primarily by linguistic barriers. This view "is deficient because it basically envisages Europeani-sation as a replication, on a higher level of spatial aggregation, of the type of unified public sphere that we know - or think we know - from the nation-state contexts." The perspective is based on "an idea of the nation-state that presupposes a degree of linguistic and cultural homogeneity and political centralisation that cannot be found in many well-functioning democratic states" (Koopmans and Erbe 2003, 3). Authors who seem to be more positive about the prospect of an emerging transnational European public employ an elitist perspective. Schlessinger, for instance, has argued that, "despite persistence of national interests and agenda, elements of a European civil society have begun to emerge, particularly within political and business elites" (Schlessinger, quoted in Downey and Koening 2006, 167). He finds proof for his claim in the rise of "an Economist-reading transnational European political and business elite that indicates how a European public sphere, or, more precisely, a complex sphere of connected national publics might develop" (ibid., 167). In his view, this potential should be further developed by the dissemination of a European news agenda and in a way that will allow national audiences to experience their citizenship as "transcending the level of the member nation-states." Similarly, Gerhards (2000, quoted ibid.) has proposed a two-way process that would involve, on the one hand, "an increased proportion of coverage of European themes and actors," and, on the other, "the evaluation of these themes and actors from a perspective that extends beyond the own country and its interests" (ibid.). The elitism (and nationalism) of this approach is evident if we ask the simple question: who are the national audiences (and the interests of their countries) and what are the "European themes?" Habermas's model of "postnational constellation" seems to be more open when he considers how to turn national media into motors of Europeanisation. "A real progress would be if national media reported about key controversies in other member states, so that national public opinions would come close to the same set of questions, regardless of their origin" (Habermas 2001b, 7). This proposal allows us to despatch the much too often implied binary model of merging the national with the European communicative space, and to contemplate communicative loyalties as being formed transversally and transnationally. Yet, normative legitimacy and political efficacy, on which this model is based, are hard to defend. As Nancy Fraser has argued, in communicative arenas "in which the interlocutors are not fellow members of a political community, with equal rights to participate in political life" (Fraser 2007, 8), there is a major obstacle, which relates to the question of how to overcome a Westphalian political imaginary when building a post-Westphalian order.1 The fundamental issue, then, is who will be the future political subject. "Taking the democratic principle seriously would require," Splichal writes, "that the ranks of those who should be entitled to participate in decision making should run even beyond resident noncitizens and nonresident citizens - to include all those outside the state's boundaries who may be impacted by the state's decisions" (Splichal 2012, 153). So far, national public spheres continue to be selective and show little evidence of opening up the space for new (post)national subjects within the existing national contexts. A substantive piece of research on citizenship tests in four member states (France, Denmark, the Netherlands and the UK), presented in the International Journal on Multicultural Societies, for instance, shows a continuation of discriminatory requirements to have, for example, a knowledge of the national history of the host society that would be hard to find among existing citizens. Moreover, the emphasis on a written test makes the editor of the special issue wonder whether this is part of state policy, "a desired side effect of the test, even if it would never be publicly acknowledged as strategy" (Wright 2008, 5), namely to deter the illiterate and uneducated. When states do seem to be showing a welcoming attitude towards immigrants, however, other mechanisms of conditioning identity and belonging may be in place. Nikunen and Hortsi's study (2013) of Finnish media coverage of the anti-immigrant movement shows how the modern notion of a balanced public culture (a pro- et contra-approach) is employed to preclude the option for a multiplicity of voices and multi-level processes of negotiation that would take precedence over the dominant cultural view with regard to the integration of immigrants. Martinez Guillem reports a similar situation in the case of Spanish public broadcasting, which aims at reconstructing public understanding of citizens' identity among the host community; this remodelling, however, is marked by a selective view of immigrants who are made acceptable by being presented as like "us" (Martinez Guillem 2013, 624). Even immigrants, until recently seen to be the most appropriate, postmodern nomadic subject (Kristeva 1993), are hardly the model subject for the postnational order. The subjugation to the collective status of a homogeneous subject notwithstanding, a recent study shows that, as transnational subjects, immigrants live a "multi-contextual" life, which is situated in a redefined relationship between transnational locality and "mediated" transnationalism. As key agents of trans-nationalisation who create "social fields that cross national boundaries" (Andersson 2013, 392; italics in original), they evade firm classifications of belonging. As An-J dersson's comparative study between two migrant experiences convincingly shows, "Deterritorialization is conditional, depending on sociocultural resources and, as is highlighted here, experiences from earlier life stages" (ibid., 400). This means that bonds of loyalty and solidarity are unfolding in mediatised spatial contexts that are shifting and contested, affected by history and memory, and thus are far from being predictable sources for the potential public governing of the post-Westpha-lian, postnational citizenship. ^ Finally, the last financial crisis perhaps revealed one of the most critical prob- lems of the European public sphere, that is, that there existed very limited, if any, intellectual interest in the post-Westphalian subject that would simultaneously also be a subaltern citizen within the dominant national societies - a critical voice with the legal status of belonging but no social and/or political power. As the above studies of the EPS indicate, the postnational constellations that are being proposed deal mainly with transformations of the existing, dominant modern national citizen into a postnational one, rely for this on mainstream media, and assume that their 0 £ i C > transnationalisation will automatically lead to new bonds of loyalty and solidarity among the members of once-national publics. The Crisis of the EU: Intellectual Engagements The above critique notwithstanding, transnationalisation so far remains the most powerful critical tool in defending the democratisation of European society. Transnationalisation, in Splichal's view, is perhaps the only way to save the European public sphere: Quite clearly, Europe is facing the emergence of a form of transnational social space by which (some) nation states are both weakened and strengthened at the same time (while others, particularly less developed and less powerful states, are primarily harmed). In that process, a European public sphere may develop either 'at the expense' (as a negation) of national public spheres or as the savior of the genuine public sphere (Splichal 2012, 149). Triandafyllidou et al (2009) have employed a method of deconstruction to suggest how alternative thinking about Europe may result in a different perspective on the European public sphere. The authors focus on episodes of crisis. As they argue, diachronic and longitudinal examinations "of the context-specific negotiations of different values at times of crisis" allow for assessments of "whether Europe still remains the sole 'invention of nation-states' [.] or whether it has already become a concept for a post-national way of thinking and talking about Europe" (ibid., 6). This view seems productive, especially if we adopt critical theory's conceptualisation of the public as a product of public address to groups of people, who, by recognising their shared interests and concerns, constitute themselves qua public (Kuipers, 2014, 78). In this sense, it is important not only to deconstruct mechanisms of crisis but also public intellectuals' attitude towards reconciliations. If we adopt the idea that moments of crisis provide an opportunity to unearth the processes of struggles (over values and ideals), then the last financial crisis, which has, in the view of many, created conditions for the crisis (if not the fall) of the EU, presents an important terrain on which to test both propositions. Indeed, leading European intellectuals have suggested just that: that the financial crisis has reopened the idea of Europe as a postnational constellation. Jürgen Habermas's response to the current situation in the EU has been that the European postnational constellation is being threatened by executive federalism - and from there to the "intergovernmental supremacy of the European council that runs contrary to the spirit of the [Lisbon] agreement" (Habermas, in Limone 2012a). In a 2012 interview for Der Spiegel, Habermas expresses his contempt for the European political elites who, in his view, have no substance or convictions. What we are witnessing in the EU at present is a coup d'état staged by technocrats, he argues. Moreover, the leading political figures (such as Merkel and Sarkozy) have been pushing the European project towards the stage of a post-democratic development, with the impoverished role of the European Parliament, "an odd, suspended position" of the European Commission and the Council as a "governmental body that engages in politics without being authorized to do so" (Habermas 2012b). Ulrich Beck goes further in pointing to the cause of the political crisis. In his view, "Germany has actually created an 'accidental empire'" (Beck, in LSE 2013). There is no master plan behind it, he argues: there is no hidden intention to occupy Europe and, hence, the idea of a "Fourth Reich" is a misplaced one. However, imperial tendencies are displayed in gaining economic power. The governing discourse under which this internal colonisation of the EU is taking place has revolved around "a new line of division between northern European and southern European countries," Beck writes. The line of demarcation implies a moral divide: The German objection to countries spending more money than they have is a moral issue which, from a sociological point of view, ties in with the 'Protestant Ethic.' It's a perspective which has Martin Luther and Max Weber in the background. But this is not seen as a moral issue in Germany, instead it's viewed as economic rationality. They don't see it as a German way of resolving the crisis; they see it as if they are the teachers instructing southern European countries on how to manage their economies. From the sociological point of view, Beck argues, a fact of the matter is that "we are experiencing the redistribution of risk from the banks, through the states, to the poor, the unemployed and the elderly. This is an extraordinary new inequality, but we are still thinking in national terms and trying to locate this redistribution of risk in terms of national categories (ibid). Dennis Smith, in dialogue with Habermas and Beck, provides another critical response. Habermas, in Smith's words, "places great hopes on the learning being done by Europe's political elites, as their constitutional lawyers educate them to be more cosmopolitan-minded" (Smith 2013). Beck, on the other hand, he argues, "focuses on crucial unlearning being done by Europe's national electorates as voters lose their faith in rigidly market-driven policies" (ibid.). The result would be "reform-minded political leaders and organized groups of citizens" determined to act transnationally, creating conditions for a "new social contract between newly enlightened European governments. This would promote transnational democracy, providing protection and support to all within a framework of European solidarity" (ibid.). For Smith, however, a more profound decision needs to be made, namely of the type of citizenship on which this postnational constellation would be based. His argument rests on two historically specific backgrounds: first, on the proliferation of neoliberal global capitalism, which has transformed citizenship into a supplemental form of market consumerism; and second, on the notion that solidarity will have ^ to find a way around stereotypes that are being circulated by media and national governments about the diligent North and the easygoing South. "Many German 'puritans' have a strong and fixed opinion that all Greeks (even all 'Southerners') are lazy and untrustworthy" (ibid.). Postnational ties of solidarity will also have to be built upon recognition of the condition of humiliation, which has been especially severe in the peripheral southern member states: The sense of degradation is intensified by memories of the EU's promise to provide a post-humiliation polity for its citizens. Humiliation is a very dynamic process: it demands action to overcome a condition that is, by definition, unacceptable. We should expect the dynamics of humiliation to figure largely in European politics over the next few years (ibid.) In sum, whereas for Habermas and Beck, the future of the EU will depend q on the pedagogical reformation of the political elites (a kind of a postnational £ (I) 0 Bildung project), for Smith, the future rests in the decision between either market or social citizenship. Interestingly, all three authors note that the current divisions within the EU concern value politics and prosper on the enhancement of national stereotypes - as the means to cover up the true causes of the crisis and gain public legitimacy for austerity measures. The solution they envision is placed in the realm of the political, and, although acknowledging the post-Westphalian age (especially Habermas), they remain keen to search for solutions in the rational conduct model of communicative public exchange that has been constitutive of the modern nation state: to reiterate Fraser, especially Habermas and Beck continue to rely on the Wetsphalian subject as the agent of building the post-Westphalian polity. A View from a Peripheral Public Sphere Of the three scholars, it is only Smith who shows a sensibility to the development of the experience of humiliation that is unique to the peripheral South in crisis: Greece in particular, but also Spain, Cyprus and, lately, Slovenia. There is a growing sentiment in the region that the EU is evolving into a transnational community based on injustice and promoting a financial oligarchic, rather than a people's, Europe. The sentiment is widespread and concerns the peripheral states' own self-understanding as much as solidarity with the others in the regional community of the humiliated. I call this emerging structure of feeling the condition of internal postcoloniality. The current system of financial help is "based on the commitment of the member states in an extremely vulnerable condition, which is that, in exchange for help, they are willing to accept a conservative austerity economy politics which they would never agree upon in times of normal democratic processes." This view by financial expert Igor Vuksanović, which was published in the Saturday supplement of the Slovenian national daily Dnevnik, also includes a remark about a "bitter aftertaste one gets around the growing tectonic gap between the North and the South of the continent." Reviewing the "solution" in Cyprus, the author finds the directness of the current masters (especially German-speaking) of Europe to achieve a "voluntary agreement" astonishing. Importantly, he also notes how legitimacy for this "obsession with economy at the cost of welfare" is defended in their own national publics with the help of the media. It is hard not to notice how, in the German press, in the "past six months, one could not read the word 'Cyprus' without reading in the same sentence also of 'oligarch,' 'Russia,' 'money laundering.'" That this is an aspect of a demonisation politics of one state becomes clear, in Vuksanović' s view, when one searches in vain for a similar analysis on banks in Luxembourg, Liechtenstein, Switeerland, Austria and Belgium, where "wealthy French, Germans and Italians are hiding their money." The pattern, he concludes, indicates what will be the "general approach of the EU when a small and irrelevant country is concerned" (Objektiv, 30. 3. 2013, 12). In a similar tone, a report in a supplement of the daily Večer, published on the same day, concludes that the "Cypriots agree with the father of Protestantism, even though they are orthodox themselves. The devil speaks German" (V soboto, 30. 3. 2013, 1). Often, a critical public shows resentment towards their own national elite. It is in this context that the condition of postcoloniality becomes most directly expressed. According to Simona Levi, the leader of Spanish Party X, speaking in an interview for the weekly Mladina, the current government "manages the Spanish state as some kind of peripheral colony by the dictate of the EU." The only concern of the national elites "is to respond to the demands of Germany and France which run contrary to the interests of Spanish farming and fishery; and to collect the money intended for the development which usually ends up in the pockets of the domestic corrupted individuals" (Mladina, 3. 1. 2014, 41). However, there is also a voice of solidarity in humiliation. For example, in Letters from Greece, published in a six-month period in the daily Delo, reporter Boštjan Videmšek documented a painful account of daily tragedy as lived by the impoverished Greeks. "For four years, Athens has been the crying capital of Europe," he writes in a November 2012 letter. Earlier in April, he lists his observations: "too tired to scream and destroy. Too many ruptured lives to have any kind of illusions"; "Greece is defeated and humiliated"; "a laboratory of catastrophic capitalism"; "German protectorate" and "Suicide in the name of a whole class." When he returns in May 2013, he reports: "Greece on its knees: A large Brussels lie about the end of the crisis." The Letters undermine the governing perception of the growing divide between two European cultures and instead, by documenting the life-worlds of ordinary people and critical intellectuals, create a striking journalistic account of the roots of suffering and humiliation. As the above titles indicate, the peripheral view of the reporter (and, in a limited sense, also of the national daily) interprets the EU crisis in terms of European values of justice, social welfare and solidarity. The sentiment of solidarity has spread in other directions, with political connections also to the South as well as the North. Therefore, the participants of the Slovenian uprising (vstajništvo) in response to the austerity measures launched by the Slovenian government in 2012, have, in their slogans and political demands, continuously expressed solidarity with the humiliated Greeks. Aleksis Cipras from Greek Syriza visited Slovenia in June 2012, but in November 2013 Northerns leading activist Hoerđur Torfason from Iceland was also hosted in Ljubljana. National dailies have reported Iceland's courageous y experiment in turning down neoliberal demands imposed on their state and have been debating the prospect of the trans-European "left" parties joining forces in the coming 2014 parliamentary elections. This selection of "allies," however, indicates that solidarity is a tie that binds together publics united in a shared transnational experience of humiliation. Condition of Postcoloniality Why would these instances of Slovenian media coverage of events in other pockets of austerity within the EU carry relevance for European intellectuals? For Habermas, as we have seen, the main blame for the faltering project that Europe has become lies with political elites and the media, who are unable to commit to a larger European vision, instead of a nation-centric one. Consequently, he also believes that "the more the national populations realise, and the media help them to realise, how profoundly the decisions of the European Union pervade their daily lives, the more their interest in making use of their democratic rights also as EU citizens will increase" (Habermas, 49). Is this the case? The European Union is about enemies becoming neighbours, Ulrich Beck states. "The second purpose of the European Union is that it can prevent countries from C > fM O being lost in world politics. A post-European Britain, or a post-European Germany, is a lost Britain, and a lost Germany. Europe is part of what makes these countries important from a global perspective." Therefore, in his third point, Beck 2 emphasises that we should not only think about a new Europe, we also have to think about how the European nations have to change. They are part of the process and I would say that Europe is about redefining the national interest in a European way. Europe is not an obstacle to national sovereignty; it is the necessary means to improve national sovereignty. Nationalism is now the enemy of the nation because only through the European Union can these countries have genuine sovereignty (Beck, in LSE 2013). Beck suggests that we need to also redesign European modernity, which has been the invisible current of its global expansion. As Bauman succinctly puts it, "Europe invented global solutions to locally produced problems - but after developing and implementing them for a couple of centuries, Europe ultimately forced the rest of humanity to desperately seek local solutions to these globally produced problems" (Bauman 2012, 3). Whereas Bauman's concern is planetary, thinking of how other parts of the planet have been turned into sources (of cheap energy, minerals, commodities, inexpensive labour), Beck thinks regionally: "Reinventing modernity could be a specific purpose for Europe" (Beck, in LSE 2013). Most directly, Beck speaks of (yet another?) "grand narrative of Europe," this time focusing on a bottom-up approach to democratic development: So far we've thought about things like institutions, law, and economics, but we haven't asked what the European Union means for individuals. What do individuals gain from the European project? First of all, I would say that, particularly in terms of the younger generation, more Europe is producing more freedom. It's not only about the free movement of people across Europe; it's also about opening up your own perspective and living in a space which is essentially grounded on law" (ibid.). Beck's address therefore is to citizens who have been, in Dennis Smith's typology (2013), lost in schizophrenia between promises and deliveries. European workers, but also students as well, are now confronted with the kind of existential uncertainty which needs an answer. Half of the best educated generation in Spanish and Greek history lack any future prospects. So what we need is a vision for a social Europe in the sense that the individual can see that there is not necessarily social security, but that there is less uncertainty. Finally we need to redefine democracy from the bottom up. We need to ask how an individual can become engaged with the European project (ibid.). Is this analysis from a leading European sociologist already a sign of the arrival of the era of the post-Westphalian intellectual? Is this intellectual able to think beyond the European paradigm of modernity and against a Eurocentric focus expressed by Etienne Balibar as "we, the people of Europe?" It is beyond the scope of this paper to present the issue in all its complexity but I would like to illustrate a fragment of it by looking into another project of "revival" of Europe, this time coming from central European intellectual circles. In the collection of essays Yet another Europe after 1984, several authors, following the legacy of Milan Kundera, express regret that, despite early beliefs to the contrary, the idea of central Europe has been left out of the European project. Yet, there are many lessons to be learned from the post-imperial rearrangements in both East and West. Schöpflin, for instance, notices a historical mix-up in terms of hegemonic divisions between the West and the East of Europe. He argues that, after the collapse of the socialist states, postsocialist citizens "had to learn an entirely new set of cognitive, semantic, and intellectual skills" (Schöpflin 2012, 23) to be able to participate in Western-style democracies. As a result of globalisation, however, Western Europe is experiencing an openness of societies that is similar to the legacies of central Europe. "The well-established states of the West have begun to lose their discursive hegemony, are beginning to experience social segmentations (in part from the parallel societies produced by immigration) and are, as a result, displaying similar symptoms of insecurity and anxiety about their cultural reproduction" (ibid., 29). The West, Schöpflin writes, resembles central Europe, while central Europe is becoming its subaltern (ibid.). Auer in the same volume claims similarly that "We are all Central Europeans now" (Auer 2012, 51-65). "Central Europe has moved to its southern, northern and western peripheries (at least for the time being)," he writes (ibid., 54). This displacement from the (once) centre to the periphery is accompanied by the fear of degradation. Greece, which likes to see itself as the birthplace of European democracy, is thus "forced to endure public humiliation by using its democratic instruments in crude violation of its democratic spirit" (ibid.). One way to define this emerging historical situation, including the public sentiments described in the previous section, is through the notion of internal colonialism. The concept has been applied in many contexts and different world regions (originally, South Africa and Mexico, in Europe most eloquently also by Michael Hechter in the case of Scotland) and refers mainly to intra-state exploita-y tion of regions or groups of people deemed civilisationally less developed and thus suitable to be relegated to subjects to be controlled. Often this status has been conferred on disempowered minorities and people on the margins. In the wake of the post-Westphalian order, it could be argued that internal colonialism now refers to postnational constellations, in which states, whose sovereign power has been reduced by processes of globalisation, take advantage of the "uneven development" of this dispossession among the states in their immediate surroundings. In this light, Beck's claim that Britain and Germany can only maintain their state sovereignty as part of the EU may be seen as lacking sensitivity to the peripheral ^ and subordinate member states. More to the point, as far as Germany is concerned, its superpower position within the EU, combined with full sovereignty, is already the existing "state of the art." Sovereignty within the EU (and because of it!) has been lost by the states forced into "voluntary agreements" to protect the interests of the centre. 3 a ß Concluding Thoughts: Periphery as Method What, if any, is the role of small nations and the intellectuals from these states on the periphery of the EU? In his essay on the role of the intellectuals today, Habermas il . O notes how the media, especially television, have subjugated the power of critical voices to the power of persuasion of the (visual) performance. The intellectual as celebrity has become a postmodern phenomenon that has not only deconstructed the modern understanding of science as a (public) vocation but has also contributed to the ever-present propensity of the intellectual to indulge his or her own vanity. "This element of self-promotion inevitably transforms the judging public - which takes part, before the television, in debates over issues of general interest - into a viewing public as well." However, for the sake of a good reputation, the intellectual "must address a public composed, not of viewers, but of potential speakers and addressees who are able to offer each other justifications. This is, ideally, a matter of exchanging reasons, not of hogging the limelight through a carefully staged performance" (Habermas 2009). As mentioned at the beginning, the public is not something (or someone) that just exists out there; it has to be invited into existence, composed of individuals sharing similar concerns, and motivated to engage in the debate. The "avantgard-istic instinct for relevances," which the intellectual possesses as the raw material "to be worked up about critical developments," has to be combined with a set of "unheroic virtues," Habermas concludes: sensitivity to damage to the normative infrastructure of the polity; the anxious anticipation of threats to the mental resources of the shared political form of life; a sense for what is lacking and "could be otherwise"; a spark of imagination in conceiving of alternatives; and a modicum of the courage required for polarising, provoking and pamphleteering. The unheroic virtues, however, do not unfold in an empty social space, lacking either history or memory. On the contrary, "the mental resources" are defined by historical experiences and cultural understandings of the shared platforms from where "polarizing, provoking and pamphleteering" can be set in motion. In other words, the intellectual does not just enter the public arena to share with his audiences the avantgardistic instinct based on his professional reputation (and/or fame), but does so from a specific location of institutional and cultural power. Two methodological issues arise concerning the value of the intellectual's reputation. The current sociological progress from national to postnational constellation, as we have learned from Habermas and Beck, is the movement between two historical experiences of modernity. Although acknowledging fragmentation and the multicultural identity of the postnational subject, both authors seem to rely on certain legacies of political culture with the domicile in Western democracies. The political geography of transnationalism, even when conceived in the cosmopolitan tradition, epistemologically refers to ideas that were being launched in parallel with Westphalian nation-state-building and politics. When conceiving a post-West-phalian order, the current sociological imagination, especially in communicative forms of deliberation and participation, seeks to find a transnational platform for the public that would follow this model of modernity. In the manifesto "We Are Europe," prepared by Ulrich Beck and Daniel Cohn-Bendit on the occasion of the European Year of Volunteering for Everyone,2 the problem is laid bare. The project can be seen as an important intellectual effort to reconstitute the European public sphere. Moreover, it contains the creative energy of the popular, which is evident in the closing sentence of the document: "But Europe is also about irony; it is about being able to laugh about ourselves. There is no better way to fill Europe with life and laughter than for ordinary Europeans to come together to act on their own initiative." The allusion to a Bakhtinian carni-valesque suggests solidarity with the subaltern, to use the postcolonial theoretical term. However, there is a certain naivety embroiled in this vision of the bottom-up civil society, as well as a sense of intellectual desire to be in the driving seat of engineering a new, active European citizen. In my understanding, the intellectual reconstitution cannot begin without a simultaneous process of intellectual reconciliation. For the solidarity and the irony in the carnivalesque are possible in circumstances in which the public (including intellectuals) shares the experience of humiliation; and this refers to the intellectual class as well. As the intellectual project Yet another Europe implies, this is far from being the case. After the "revolutions of 1989," "old Europe" failed to ask any of the relevant lessons to be learned from those revolutions. "Europe also missed the opportunity to use this historic moment and experiences from democratization efforts in Central and Eastern Europe to address problems of democratic deficit within the EU - problems that, two decades later, remain unresolved" (Žagar 2012, 87). This, as Žagar continues, is a persistent predicament on the part of Western thought -namely, the inability to use historic opportunities and integrate others' cognitions and experiences. "Both the East and West, as well as Central Europe, lacked the will and ability to consider, accept, and integrate non-European, particularly non-Western traditions, experiences and achievements into political, social, and economic development or to develop strategies, policies and practices of diversity management that would promote the voluntary, equal, and full integration of immigrants and immigrant communities" (ibid.). Second, reconciliation thus implies a process of de-colonisation and de-impe-rialisation; to reiterate important postcolonial author Kuan-Hsing Chen (2010), it involves "the intellectual undoing of the cold war." Transnational order does not mean a borderless situation; on the contrary, "Borders play a key role in the production of the heterogeneous time and space of contemporary global and post-y colonial capitalism" (Mezzadra and Neilson 2013, ix). As Mezzadra and Neilson argue, borders have become a vital theoretical tool to challenge "some of the most cherished notions and theoretical paradigms produced by political economy and social sciences"; they propose the concept "multiplication of labour," which signifies the "geographic disruption that lies at the core of capitalist globalization" (ibid., x). In a similar vein, the political and cultural geography of the EU will be a vital aspect on which to build solidarities and resist politics of internal colonisation and subalternisation, whereby migrant labour and citizenship-worker are the defining dyad of the postnational capitalist world. For this new development to be accounted for, we will need new theoretical tools of thinking about the civilisational constellation of the continent, one which will process from taking the notion of border as the method of analysis and not a given fact. Small nations, with their positions on the fringe of the history of the post-World War II making of the EU, can provide a historical and cultural resource for the redefinition of the postnational constellation as the post-Western bordered territory. I But this can be a workable model only insofar as they resist stepping into the centre themselves. That is, they must define their participation on the basis of remaining on the periphery, yet with a power to constantly challenge and move the centres. il . KD O This furthermore refers to the position of the subaltern, whose democratic politics continues to be governed by bonds of identification with all the existing subalterns in the specific national and political contexts of defining common societal good; 2 and with all the prospective new subaltern groups and individuals, who are yet to cross the borders of the EU. This will demand courage on the part of the transnational civil society. In terms of the Bildung politics of the postnational subject, it will also require a historical reversal - to uncover the civic legacies that were once successful in disposing elites in their attempts to colonise the future, since 1984, in the peripheries of Europe more than anywhere else. Notes: 1. In her earlier critique, Fraser contests the Habermasian model with the Gramscian concept of subaltern counter-publics, existing within the Westphalian territorialised political community. In her later work, she radically redraws the concept of the public itself, divorcing it from both the citizenship and territoriality of the nation state. "Public opinion is legitimate," she writes, "if and only if it results from a communicative process in which all potentially affected can participate as peers, regardless of political citizenship" (ibid., 22; italics in original). In a similar way, public opinion must be aligned with transnational public powers, "which can be made accountable to new democratic transnational circuits of public opinion" (ibid., 24). 2. http://manifest-europa.eu/allgemein/wir-sind-europa?lang=en; accessed 26.2.2014. References: Andersson, Magnus. 2013. Multi-Contextual Lives: Transnational Identifications under Mediatised Conditions. European Journal of Cultural Studies 16, 4, 387-404. Auer, Stefan. 2012. We are all Central Europeans Now: A Literary Guide to the Eurozone Crisis. In L. Donskis (ed.), Yet another Europe after 1984: Rethinking Milan Kundera and the Idea of Central Europe, 51-65. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Bauman, Zygmunt. 2011. Collateral Damage. Social Inequalities in a Global Age. Cambridge: Polity. Bauman Zygmunt. 2012. What is "Central" in Central Europe? In L. Donskis (ed.), Yet another Europe after 1984: Rethinking Milan Kundera and the Idea of Central Europe, 1-15. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Chen, Kuan-Hsing. 2010. Asia as Method. TowardDeimperialization. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Delanty, Gerard. 2007. Peripheries and Borders in a Post-Western Europe. Eurozine. Downey, John, and Thomas Koenig. 2006. Is There a European Public Sphere?: The BerlusconiSchulz Case. European Journal of Communication 21, 2, 165-187. Ette, Andreas, and Thomas Faist, eds. 2007. The Europeanization of National Immigration Policies. Between Autonomy and the European Union. New York: Palgrave. Fraser, Nancy. 2007. Transnationalizing the Public Sphere: On the Legitimacy and Efficacy of Public Opinion in a Post-Westphalian World. Theory, Culture and Society 24, 4, 7-30. Habermas, Jürgen. 2001. Postnational Constellation. Cambridge: Polity. Habermas, Jürgen. 2001. Why Europe Needs a Constitution. New Left Review 11, September-October, 5-26. Habermas, Jürgen. 2009. Europe: The Faltering Project. Cambridge: Polity. Habermas, Jürgen. 2012. The Crisis of the European Union. A Response. Cambridge: Polity. Jensen, Ole, and Tim Richardson. 2004. Making European Space: Mobility, Power and Territorial Identity. London: Routledge. Kristeva, Julija. 1993. Nations without Nationalism. New York: Columbia University Press. Kuipers, Giselinde. 2014. In Praise of Doubt. Academic Virtues, Transnational Encounters and the Problem of the Public. European Journal of Cultural Studies 17, 1, 75-89. Limone, Noa. 2012. Germany's Most Important Living Philosopher Issues an Urgent Call to Restore Democracy. Haaretz, 16. 8. Martinez Guillem, Susana. 2013. The Dialectics of Multiculturalism: Constructing 'New Citizens' in Spanish Public Broadcasting. European Journal of Cultural Studies 16, 5, 620-639. Mezzadra, Sandro, and Brett Neilson. 2013. Border as Method, or the Multiplication of Labor. Durham and London: Duke University Press. Nikunen, Kaarina, and Karina Horsti. 2013. The Ethics of Hospitality in Changing Journalism: A Response to the Rise of the Anti-immigrant Movement in Finnish Media Publicity. European Journal of Cultural Studies 16, 4, 489-504. Schöpflin, George. 2012. Central Europe, Kundera, Incompleteness and Lack of Agency. In L. Donskis (ed.), Yet another Europe after 1984: Rethinking Milan Kundera and the Idea of Central Europe, 17-30. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Shore, Chris. 2006. In Uno Plures. EU Cultural Policy and the Governance of Europe. Cultural Analysis 5, 7-26. Smith, Dennis. 2013. Making Sense of the EU Crisis. Jean Monnet Lecture. 23 April, Faculty of Arts, Ljubljana. Splichal, Slavko. 2012. Transnationalization of the Public Sphere and the Fate of the Public. New York: Hampton Press. Triandafyllidou, Anna, Ruth Wodak and Michal Krzyzanowski, eds. 2009. The European Public Sphere and the Media. New York: Palgrave. Vidmar Horvat, Ksenija. 2012. The Predicament of Intercultural Dialogue. Reconsidering the Politics of Culture and Identity in the EU. Cultural Sociology 6, 1, 27-44. Vidmar Horvat, Ksenija. 2009. Zemljevidi vmesnosti. Evropska kultura in identiteta po koncu hladne vojne. Ljubljana: ZIFF. Wright, Sue, ed. 2008. Citizenship Tests in a Post-National Era. International Journal on Multicultural Societies 10, 1, 1-9. Žagar, Mitja. 2012. Europe, Central Europe, and the Shaping of Collective European and Central European Identities. In L. Donskis (ed.), Yet another Europe after 1984: Rethinking Milan Kundera and the Idea of Central Europe, 67-93. Amsterdam: Rodopi. U S 3 a 0 £ 1 * (I) 0 C i 00 o SETH ASHLEY SOCIOLOGIJA STRUKTURE MEDIJSKEGA SISTEMA: KOMUNIKACIJSKA POLITIKA IN »DVOJNO GIBANJE« Pojem "dvojnega gibanja" Karla Polanyija se uporablja za opisovanje protekcionističnih ukrepov vlad za omejitev škode, ki jo povzroča širitev trgov. Skozi lečo politične ekonomije in zgodovinskega institucionalizma avtor uporabi Polanyijev okvir za proučevanje konkurenčnih idej o javnem interesu na primerih družbeno konstruirane narave ameriške in britanske radiodifuzije in legitimizacijskih diskurzov, ki so prinesli različne rezultate. Zgodovinska analiza kaže na pojemanje dvojnega gibanja v komunikacijski politiki, zlasti v ZDA, in podpira pozive po nekomercialnih, javnih medijskih strukturah in večji regulaciji v komunikacijski industriji. COBISS 1.01 STEPHEN CUSHION VNAŠANJE NEPOSREDNOSTI V MEDIJSKO LOGIKO: REINTERPRETACIJA MEDIJATIZACIJE POLITIKE V TELEVIZIJSKIH POROČILIH V ZDRUŽENEM KRALJESTVU 1991-2013 Pričujoča študija večernih poročil v Združenem kraljestvu (1991-2013) proučuje stopnjo medijatizacije političnih novic z opiranjem na pojem novinarskega intervencionizma v proučevanju uredniških in »živih« konvencij. Splošno raziskovanje novic daje malo dokazov o medijatizaciji. Ko pa smo novice v živo obravnavali posebej in v daljšem časovnem obdobju, smo lahko ugotovili, da je bila v poročila vnesena logika neposrednosti, ki so tako privzela določeno stopnjo intervencionizma, značilnega za neposredne novičarske formate. Da bi bolje razumeli medijatizacijo politike, bi prihodnje študije lahko v večji meri poskušale teoretsko proučiti različne medijske logike in razviti več vsebinskih indikatorjev za specifične formate, ki odražajo širše vplive v novinarstvu. I- LU N > O Q_ YOUNG HEE LEE DAL YONG JIN TEHNOLOGIJA IN DRŽAVLJANI: ANALIZA DRŽAVLJANSKE POROTE NA KOREJSKEM DRŽAVNEM SISTEMU ZA ODZIV NA PANDEMIJO Zaradi tehnične kompleksnosti pri večini javnih politik v tehnoloških družbah prevladujeta ekspertizem in tehnokracija (institucionalna oblika ekspertizma), ki temeljita na prepričanju, da morajo biti javne politike v izključni domeni tehničnih strokovnjakov. V svetu pa se strokovno vodena in tehnokratska kultura oblikovanja politik sooča z izzivi. Avtorja analizirata demokratične posledice korejske izkušnje državljanske porote kot oblike državljanske posvetovalne participacije. Avtorja dokumentirata in proučujeta državljansko poroto na primeru državnega sistema za odziv na pandemijo leta 2008, ki predstavlja prvi primer državljanske porote v Koreji. Avtorja sklepata, da imajo državljanske porote pozitivne posledice za uresničevanje posvetovalne demokracije. COBISS 1.01 HANNU NIEMINEN KRATKA ZGODOVINA EPISTEMOLOŠKEGA SKUPNEGA: KRITIČNI INTELEKTUALCI, EVROPA IN MALI NARODI Prizadevanje za večjo odprtost in obveščanje javnosti se kaže kot nadaljevanje dolgega zgodovinskega razvoja epistemološkega skupnega, ki se je začelo v srednjem veku in doseglo vrh v zapuščini razsvetljenstva. Evropska modernost temelji na predpostavki, da znanje in kultura pripadata skupni domeni in da proces demokratizacije nujno pomeni odpravo omejitev glede epistemološkega skupnega. V zadnjih 30 letih ta optimizem trpi zaradi dveh vrst 0 nazadovanj. Prvič, po letu 1970 je politika slabitve in privatizacije javnih zavodov praktično £ ustavila širitev epistemološkega skupnega. Drugič, druga polovica Evrope, države srednje in vzhodne Evrope, ni imela koristi od iste vrste demokratičnega razvoja po drugi svetovni vojni ^ kot so jih imeli njihovi zahodni kolegi. Ker ni bilo tradicije demokratičnih državnih institucij, so bili kritični intelektualci v državah srednje in vzhodne Evrope precej nemočni pri uveljavljanju idej javnosti in demokratičnega državljanstva. Zahtevni vprašanji sta: Kakšna je lahko vloga kritičnih znanstvenikov pri spodbujanju epistemološkega skupnega danes? Kako naj razumemo zapuščino razsvetljenstva - brez občutka nostalgije po 60. in 70. leti prejšnjega stoletja? £ 3 a in o c z o NICO CARPENTIER KLIC K OROŽJU: ESEJ O VLOGI INTELEKTUALCA IN POTREBA PO PROIZVODNJI NOVIH IMAGINARIJEV Razprava za izhodišče ponuja zgodovinski premislek o identiteti intelektualca, pri čemer poudarja štiri glavne razprave, ki so to identiteto skušale opremiti s pomenom. Omenjene razprave zadevajo razredni položaj intelektualca, njegove povezave z drugimi razredi in družbenimi skupinami, lokacijo intelektualca in odnos z univerzo ter javnost intelektualca. Razprave so temelj za bolj angažiran razmislek o zaželenosti intervencije intelektualcev v družbi, ki jo zaznamujejo tri vrste kriz - kriza predstavniške demokracije, gospodarska kriza in kriza mimesisa - in raziskuje, kako se njihova retorika lahko preoblikuje v nasprotje hege-monskemu diskurzu. Čeprav se trdi, da proizvodnja novih ideoloških projektov ni neposredna - zaradi zapletenega razmerja med delovanjem in diskurzivnimi strukturami, enako težavnega razmerja med kompleksnostjo in preprostostjo, in ontoloških vprašanj, ki jih je sprožila kriza mimesisa - razprava zagovarja vzpostavitev mreže intelektualcev, ki jih vodijo načela vrednotne središčnosti, modularnega sodelovanja in ne-esencializma in jim omogočajo, da kritično premislijo o naših temeljnih družbenih strukturah, z namenom vzpostavitve novih obzorij za zamišljanje družbenih sprememb. COBISS 1.01 KSENIJA VIDMAR HORVAT PONOVNO ZAMEJEVANJE PERSPEKTIVE NA EU: POGLED S SLOVENSKE PERIFERIJE Članek proučuje možnost oživitve projekta evropskega povezovanja v luči trenutnih izkušenj svetovne finančne krize. Avtorica trdi, da je kriza pustila neenakomeren pečat na javnostih držav članic evropske skupnosti, pečat, ki je uvedel novo razdelitev med domnevno skrbnim severom in lenim jugom. Izkušnja javnega ponižanja obrobnih držav v krizi, tj. Grčije, Cipra, Španije, Slovenije, ki je bila dojeta, kot da prihaja iz središč EU in severa, je otežila nadaljevanje oblikovanja post-nacionalne ustave, kot so jo predlagali poznavalci EU. Nasprotno, EU javnost je priča porastu stanja notranjega post-kolonializma, pri čemer je periferija postala vir (v gospodarskem, finančnem in kulturno-moralnem pomenu) za reprodukcijo režimov moči centra. Zato avtorica prispevka trdi, da bi vodilni evropski intelektualci, ki so zaskrbljeni glede prihodnosti EU, in predlagajo scenarije obnovitve od spodaj navzgor, morali upoštevati lastno lokacijo in zgraditi intelektualno transverzalo, ki bo vključevala kritične glasove s periferno izkušnjo drugorazrednega državljanstva. COBISS 1.01 0 £ * 1 * (fl O C (6 n NAVODILA ZA AVTORJE Priprava rokopisov Rokopise pošljite na naslov uredništva po elektronski pošti v formatu Microsoft Word/Windows. Če uporabljate drugačen urejevalnik besedil, shranite dokument v formatu Word. Zaradi lažjega anonimnega recenziranja naj bodo imena in naslovi avtorjev v posebnem dokumentu. Maksimalna dolžina člankov je 50.000 znakov (8.000 besed). Besedilo pošljite z enojnim razmakom, uporabljajte črke Times Roman 12 in ne poravnavajte desnega roba. Vsak odstavek naj se začne z enojnim umikom. Med odstavki naj ne bo dodatnega razmika. Ne uporabljajte nobenih drugih urejevalnih orodij razen uporabe kurzive in mastnih črk. Naslovi naj bodo kratki, jasni in ne daljši od sto znakov Lahko uporabljate večje in mastne črke za ločevanje med različnimi ravnmi naslovov, vendar jih ne številčite. Naslovi prvega in drugega reda naj bodo v svoji vrsti, naslovi tretjega reda pa na začetku odstavka pred prvim stavkom. Gradivo, citirano iz drugega vira, naj bo v dvojnih narekovajih; če je daljše od 300 znakov, naj bo v posebnem odstavku v kurzivi in z umikom od levega in desnega roba. Vsaka tabela ali slika naj bosta na posebnem listu za seznamom citiranih del. Imeti mora zaporedno številko in kratek naslov. V besedilu naj bo označeno, kam je treba uvrstiti tabelo ali sliko ("Vstavi Tabelo 1 / Sliko 1"). Uporabljajte orodje za oblikovanje tabel v programu Word. Reference, opombe in citati Reference v besedilu Osnovna oblika citiranja v besedilu je (Novak 1994). Za navajanje strani uporabljajte (Novak 1994, 7-8). Če citirate delo z več kot tremi avtorji, zapišite "in drugi" (Novak in drugi 1994). Za navajanje več del istega avtorja uporabite podpičje; če so dela izšla istega leta, jih ločujte s črkami abecede (Kosec 1934a; 1934b; 1936). Uporabite "n.d.", če letnica publikacije ni znana. Opombe Za bistvene opombe ali navajanje neobičajnih virov uporabite opombe na koncu članka in jih označite z zaporednimi številkami, ki so nadpisane na ustreznih mestih v besedilu. Informacija o avtorju in zahvale Avtor naj bo predstavljen s polnim imenom in priimkom, institucijo, v kateri je zaposlen, in e-naslovom. Zahvale naj bodo zapisane na koncu besedila pred opombami. Seznam citiranih del Vsa dela, citirana v besedilu, naj bodo razvrščena pa abecednem vrstnem redu za opombami. Članek v revijah Novak, Janez. 2003. Naslov članka. Javnost-The Public 10 (volumen), 3 (številka), 57-76 (strani). Knjiga Novak, Janez in Peter Kodre. 2007. Naslov knjige: Podnaslov. Kraj: Izdajatelj. Poglavje v knjigi Novak, Janez. 2006. Naslov poglavja. V: P Kodre (ur), Naslov knjige, 123-145. Kraj: Izdajatelj. Navajanje internetnih virov Novak, Janez. N.d. Global Revolution. Recenziranje Uredništvo uporablja za vse članke obojestransko anonimni recenzentski postopek.Članke recenzirata dva recenzenta. Urednik lahko brez zunanjega recenzenta zavrne objavo neustreznega članka. NOTES FOR AUTHORS Manuscript Preparation Manuscripts should be submitted electronically as e-mail attachments to the Editor in Microsoft Word for Windows format. If you are using another word-processing program, please save the file as Word for Windows documents. To facilitate blind review, names and affiliations of authors should be listed on a separate file. Maximum length of articles is 50,000 characters (8,000 words). Single space your text, use preferably 12-point Times Roman and a ragged (not justified) right margin. Indent the first line of each paragraph with a single tab and use only one hard return between paragraphs. Do not lay out (design) your manuscript. Do not format text beyond the use of italics or where necessary, boldface. Do not use headers and footers. Headings in articles should be concise and descriptive and should not exceed one hundred characters. A few basic formatting features (larger font, bold) should be used to make clear what level each heading is. Major sub-heads should appear on a separate line; secondary sub-heads appear flush left preceding the first sentence of a paragraph. Do not number headings and subheadings. Material quoted directly from another source should be in double quotation mark or set in a separate paragraph in italics with increased indent when longer than 300 characters. Each table or figure must appear on a separate page after the Reference List. It should be numbered and carry a short title. Tables and figures are indicated in the manuscript in the order of their appearance ("Insert Table 1 / Figure 1 about here"). Use the table feature in Word to create tables. References, Notes, and Citations References within the Text The basic reference format is (Novak 1994). To cite a specific page or part: (Novak 1994, 7-8). Use "et al." when citing a work by more than three authors (Novak et al 1994). The letters a, b, c, etc. should be used to distinguish different citations by the same author in the same year (Kosec 1934a; Kosec 1934b). Use "n.d." if the publication date is not available. Notes Essential notes, or citations of unusual sources, should be indicated by superscript numbers in the text and collected on a separate page at the end of the article. Author Notes and Acknowledgements Author notes identify authors by complete name, title, affiliation, and e-mail account. Acknowledgements may include information about financial support and other assistance in preparing the manuscript. Reference List All references cited in the text should be listed alphabetically and in full after the Notes. Journal Article Novak, Janez. 2003. Title of Article. Javnost-The Public 10 (volume), 3 (number), 57-76 (pages). Book Novak, Janez and Peter Kodre. 2007. Title of the Book: With Subtitle. Place: Publisher. Chapter in a Book Novak, Janez. 2006. Title of the Chapter. In P Kodre (ed.), Title of the Book, 123-145. Place: Publisher Electronic Citations and References Information that you get from the Internet should be documented, indicating the date of retrieval. Novak, Janez. N.d. Global Revolution. Review Procedures All unsolicited articles undergo double-blind peer review. In most cases, manuscripts are reviewed by two referees. The editor reserves the right to reject any unsuitable manuscript without requesting an external review. theO i en > (6 Izdajatelj: Fakulteta za družbene vede Univerze v Ljubljani za Evropski inštitut za komuniciranje in kulturo Published by Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Ljubljana, for the European Institute for Communication and Culture Editor Slavko Splichal Glavni urednik Slavko Splichal Oblikovanje naslovnice Miran Klenovšek Mebja Karlsqn Cover Design Miran Klenovšek Mebja Karlsqn Typesetting Karmen Zahariaš Računalniški prelom Karmen Zahariaš Tisk LITTERA PICTA d.o.o. Rožna dolina c. IV/32-34 Ljubljana Printing LITTERA PICTA d.o.o. Rožna dolina c. IV/32-34 Ljubljana Ljubljana Slovenia 2014 Ljubljana 2014