x_filesize')); // Sort image tag $OC_sortImg = 'current sort selection'; ?> ࡱ>  _bjbjߍ (L$!(IIII4"V bqssssss"Ts-j44jnsIIrIIqjqIox e 0,""IIjjj c:   Democratic Theory: Interests, Antagonisms and Dialogue Leszek Koczanowicz, Warsaw School of Social Science John Ryder, Khazar University We would like to offer two complementary approaches to the question of how democratic theory, specifically pragmatist democratic theory, may handle the question of the presence in complex societies of antagonism. The question itself is suggested by the theoretical analysis of democracy of Chantal Mouffe and Ernesto Laclau, work that has not been directly addressed by pragmatist political commentators. The first approach is to read Dewey in a way that enables a Deweyan conception of democracy to account for Mouffes and Laclaus positing of antagonism at the heart of any political process. The second treats the question of antagonism through Mead and the centrality of dialogue. I The core concept, or at least a core concept, of Deweys pragmatist understanding of democracy is common interests. The definition of democracy in Democracy and Education rests on two observations: that all communities require some interests held in common by their members, and that healthy communities are characterized by their members pursuit of communication and further interests held in common with those beyond the borders of their own communities. These, Dewey says, are the traits of all communities from which he draws his definition of democracy.1 The core concept, or at least a core concept, of Chantal Mouffes agonistic understanding of democracy is the ineradicable presence in a democratic society of a plurality of viewpoints, opinions, and interests, some of which are inevitably antagonistic. For Mouffe this fact points to the inadequacy of consensual and deliberative theories of democracy. Our concern in this section is to explore the relationship between these two apparently quite different conceptions of democracy.2 The question of the relation of pluralism to Deweys conception of democracy is familiar through the literature in recent years. Robert Talisse has argued that a Deweyan democracy cannot handle the fact of pluralism and so has to be given up. The issue has also been put in terms of the problems a pragmatist democracy might have with respect to dissent. Both concerns, especially Talisses, have generated some response and ongoing discussion.3 But to date that discussion has not dealt with the issue in terms of the challenge that Mouffes agonistic theory poses. Unlike the other literature to which we have just referred, Mouffe does not address Dewey in any serious way. In fact she does not address pragmatism at all, other than through some comments on Rorty.4 She is more concerned with the general deliberative and consensual theories of democracy that have become prominent, specifically the liberalism of Habermas and Rawls and the communitarianism of Walzer, Taylor, and others. But even in these terms, her analysis is relevant for a Deweyan, pragmatist conception of democracy, so much so that it is incumbent on us to take up the relation between the two.5 A comparison of pragmatist and agonistic theories of democracy prompts several questions. The first is whether the empirical underpinnings of both conceptions are accurate, and we will argue that they are accurate. That is, Dewey is right in his observation of the importance of common interests, and Mouffe is right that there can be and often are antagonistic interests in any democratic society. The second question is: what does the fact that they are both right indicate or imply? If it is true that the pursuit of common interests is a fact, one that should be encouraged; and if the existence of antagonistic opinions and interests is a fact, one that should also be encouraged; then either democracy is impossible or it is a social and political condition that is capable of accommodating both common interests and antagonistic differences. We will argue that democracy, particularly its Deweyan, pragmatist version, is in fact capable of doing both. We should like to say more about these first two questions before moving on to the issue of how they may be accommodated. With respect to the first, Dewey attempted to develop a conception of democracy not from abstract or general principles but from the actual character of social life. The details of social life that he chose had to do with the interests that people share. He does not claim that people share all interests, or that no other characteristics of communities are relevant for our understanding of them. He makes a modest but profoundly significant claim, which is that people within a specific community, whatever else we may want to say about them, are likely to share some interests. He also does not claim, nor does he need to claim, that there must be a single interest that all members of a community share. He could, in other words, handle the Wittgensteinian point that we should not expect there to be a single, essential interest that defines a community. There may be a family of interests, to use Wittgensteins metaphor, and Dewey would have no problem with this. The second aspect of Deweys definition may be a bit more puzzling, but it is equally justifiable and equally profound in its ramifications. Deweys claim is that a healthy community, which is to say one that can sustain itself, adapt to changing conditions, and perhaps grow to some extent, is one that maintains, indeed pursues, common interests with other communities. A healthy community looks beyond its own limits, boundaries and borders to communicate with others, to identify common interests, and to pursue them together. It is possible for a community to exist for some time and under some conditions without engaging in such communication and pursuit of shared interests. Dewey gives the example of a gang of thieves. But such a community is not healthy and, he claims, will not prosper. Deweys view in the end is that a democratic society will be roughly equivalent to a healthy community, so it will be one characterized by communication and common interests within and beyond its boundaries. If we are asking an empirical question here, that is if we ask simply whether it is true that communities consist of common interests and that healthy communities pursue such interests beyond their boundaries, it is easier to accept the first point than the second. It seems fairly non-controversial that members of a community have interests in common. But do we want to follow Dewey in making the further claim that members of a healthy community, a democracy, must also be expected to pursue communication and common interests beyond the borders of their community? This seems more of a normative than a descriptive question because it requires of us that we endorse its implications for our understanding of democracy. For example, it turns out that very little of US or any other counties foreign policy is democratic if by democratic we mean policy that consciously and persistently pursues common interests with those beyond ones borders. In their foreign policy nations typically identify national interests first and then foray into the international arena to protect or advance them. But on Deweys definition that is not a democratic way to undertake foreign policy. So to endorse Deweys extended and other-regarding conception of democracy requires that we accept it as a normative proposition. We shall do just that at this point because though we do not have the time to do it here, it is possible to make a case for a broader view of democracy as requiring the pursuit of common interests across borders.6 So for the sake of argument at least we can agree that Deweys observations about common interests and their relation to democracy are acceptable for us. What then about Mouffe and the question of antagonistic pluralism? Her basic point derives, it appears, from the nagging suspicion she apparently feels that the standard deliberative and consensual models of democracy are simply unrealistic because they presume the possibility, even if only as a regulative ideal, that something like consensus can be reached in public, political discourse. This is, she says, a feature of the dominant liberal and communitarian conceptions, and, she claims, both go off the rails on this point. Furthermore, she argues that if she is right that we can expect and even want a plurality of ideas, opinions, and interests, some of which will be antagonistic, then we endanger the future of democratic development by insisting on the ideal of consensus if for no other reason than that we thereby ignore the dimension of power in the political sphere. Is Mouffe right about this? At the descriptive level she seems obviously right. The only political environment in the contemporary world in which we can expect much other than partisan bickering is one in which alternative conceptions are not permitted, which seems to support Mouffes insistence that pluralism and antagonism are important for democracy. But there are other dimensions of this question because it is not simply an empirical matter of what people do, but a speculative question that concerns what we can expect people to do and a normative question of what we would want people to do. By their nature speculative questions are tricky because there is not much to go on other than suspicions, and there is no reason to assume that we will share those suspicions. For our part, we suspect that Mouffe is right that we can expect people to disagree, and if our academic experience is any guide, the more education we have the more we disagree. At the speculative level, there is no reason to think that there is a political condition, either a possible future or a regulative ideal, in which sharp disagreements and a plurality of points of view will disappear, regardless of how we structure the conditions of deliberation and discourse, even if we are able to eliminate what James Madison in the Federalist Papers No. 10 called the most common and durable source of faction, which is the various and unequal distribution of property. And on the normative side, we cannot help but be reminded of Mills arguments in On Liberty for the value of vigorous debate, without necessarily arriving at agreement or consensus, a point that would suggest that we ought to accept Mouffes normative claim that we do not want to dissolve disagreement into consensus. So we have suggested that there is some reasonable plausibility for both Deweys insistence on the importance of common interests to communities and democracy, and Mouffes view that disagreement, even of the antagonistic sort, is inevitable and in fact desirable in a strong democratic political environment. The second issue that we have raised is this: what is implied if both Dewey and Mouffe are right, or if their respective views are at least plausible? On the face of it the implication seems to be that either democracy must be able to handle both the centrality of common interests and of antagonistic disagreement, or it is impossible. Lets dwell on this point for a bit. As we indicated earlier, we do think that democracy is possible and that a healthy democratic society can accommodate both common interests and antagonistic disagreement. The reason is that there is nothing about common interests or antagonistic disagreements that preclude one another, either formally or in practice. People may have interests in common in one respect and disagree in another, or they may have interests in common but disagree fundamentally about how to achieve them. In fact the co-existence of common interests and antagonistic disagreement is not only possible, it is probably the normal state of affairs. One may indeed push this analysis further. Deweys view implies not just that there are interests that people hold in common, but that it is a democratic responsibility that we pursue common interests, even or especially in those cases where there are no obvious or immediate common interests. In other words, there may be communities, or nations, that are so antagonistic in their relations with one another that it takes a special effort of will and commitment to identify interests in common. Consider, for example, the US and the Soviet Union during the Cold War. Relations between the two nations were so antagonistic that it was nearly all they could do to prevent open warfare. But it was not in fact all they could do, because eventually Richard Nixon went to Moscow to speak with Leonid Brezhnev and find common ground. He did the same with the leadership of the Peoples Republic of China. And some years later Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev, as unlikely a team as one can imagine, nearly agreed to eliminate their stockpiles of nuclear weapons. Whatever else one might think about Nixon, Reagan, Mao, Brezhnev, and Gorbachev, these were profoundly democratic actions, and at times when the world was in desperate need of them. They represent occasions when in the midst of stridently antagonistic disagreements and relations the pursuit of common interests was nonetheless possible, and indeed valuable. It seems clear, then, that it is possible for both Dewey and Mouffe to be right, which is to say that both common interests and antagonistic disagreements may characterize communities simultaneously. This then leads us to a third question: how is such an accommodation possible? If an accommodation between the two approaches is possible, which it appears to be, it is so only if the Deweyan conception of democracy as the pursuit of common interests is not a deliberative theory. Mouffe may be right in arguing that a conception of democracy that requires the approximation of consensus and a model of public discourse that encourages it, even if only as a regulative ideal, is a dead end approach to a workable theory of democracy. If that is so, and if at the same time one wants to endorse a Deweyan conception, then we are required to distinguish a Deweyan conception from deliberative theories. At this point we part company with one of the dominant strains within commentary on Deweyan democracy that treats it as a theory of deliberative democracy.7 That Dewey has been read as a forerunner of contemporary deliberative democratic theory is not very surprising because his ideas do lend themselves to such an interpretation.8 Throughout his work, from epistemology to education to social and political theory, Dewey emphasized the importance of intelligence. His reason was basically that the exercise of intelligence in the ways we address our problems is likely to produce more satisfactory results, more workable solutions. In the personal sphere an intelligent approach to problems may be contrasted with traditionalism or with any form of what Peirce called tenacity. In the political sphere intelligence may be contrasted with an ideologically driven approach to problems and to an assumption of the necessary exercise of power, especially violence, in the solution of problems. This after all was basically Deweys theoretical objection to Marxism. If we build class struggle into the heart of our understanding of social and political realities, and if we assume that in most cases violent struggle will be required to overcome class oppression, then we have abandoned intelligence in the solution of problems from the start. Deweys idea was that we ought to be able to approach our social, economic, and political problems more or less the way scholars approach disagreement in the sciences and other disciplines. As much as scholars in opposing camps may wish to whack each other over the head at times, we usually do not resolve our disagreements that way. We talk, we argue, and we undertake our research, all on the assumption that in the end the better evidence, the more refined theory, the stronger argument, and the idea that has preferable outcomes will carry the day. This looks rather like the picture deliberative democrats paint of how a functional sphere of public discourse might function; and we may read Rawls or Habermas as attempting to describe some of the details of such a discursive space. And if we were to approach our problems and disagreements in such a spirit we may well end up with a picture of collective problem solving and general agreement about the good that communitarians endorse. When we say that we may not want to read Dewey as a deliberative democrat we do not mean to say that he is wrong in his emphasis on the exercise of intelligence in the resolution of our problems and the ongoing construction of our experience. Surely it is better when possible to work our way through problems thoughtfully, carefully, self-critically, and peacefully rather than through arrogant bullying, an automatic recourse to the exercise of power, or through violence. We mean only to say that the exercise of intelligence, even just as Dewey meant it, does not require the degree of agreement, never mind consensus, that deliberative and consensus democratic theory posits. It does of course require some agreement, for example to the democratic institutions that have been developed and in which political problems are addressed. In this respect Dewey and Mouffe are in agreement. Nor does the exercise of intelligence require a general commitment to the superiority of any particular version of democratic theory, for example liberal democracy. One of Mouffes concerns with both liberal and communitarian versions of deliberative theory is that they tend, sometimes surreptitiously, to assume that one or another form of contemporary liberalism is a necessary condition of a workable democracy. Mouffes own socialist background inclines her to be suspicious of such universalizing assumptions, as the rhetorical language refers to this sort of thing.9 Deweys idea requires no assumption that contemporary Western liberal democracy is, when all the bugs are worked out, the best of all possible worlds. It may or may not be the best game in town for the moment, but even if it is, the exercise of intelligence does not preclude the development of new and better social and political arrangements as new problems arise that require creativity and novelty in their solution. Indeed the near certainty of new problems over time and the need for creative solutions and social reconstruction is precisely why intelligence is so important if we are to maintain the development of democratic social relations. Furthermore, Deweys idea of democracy is not a deliberative theory because it rests not on common viewpoints or even commitments, but on common interests. That is to say that the Deweyan view of democracy assumes the possibility and desirability not of agreement, beyond the minimum necessary for civil interaction, but of peoples action toward common ends. That we can expect people, whatever else we may disagree about, to have common ends is clear simply from the fact that we live together and that in some respects and to some degree the prosperity of each of us requires the prosperity of others. Of course we can choose not to focus on that fact and act in ways that exploit others for our personal gain, but on Deweys view this is not democratic behavior and, we should point out, it is not likely to be sustainable. The point is that simply by virtue of the fact that we live together, that there are communities at all, we share some interests. If we recognize that we may pursue the interests that we share to greater effect by collaborating then we are likely to do so. Moreover, if we generalize that inclination to look for, and even construct, common interests beyond our own narrow communities, and if we do so intelligently in Deweys sense, then we will be acting in a genuinely democratic fashion. No consensus and no agreement on the nature of the overall good are required. We will presumably continue to have whatever disagreements, and even antagonisms, that we can expect thoughtful, freethinking people to have. If that is right, then a democracy based on the pursuit of common interests allows for the continuing existence of diverse and even contrary interests and viewpoints, primarily because the pursuit of common interests does not assume that the interests of all individuals or communities will eventually converge into one large consensus. It assumes only that individuals and communities may undertake the pursuit of their own interests, to the extent possible, by attempting to identify common interests with others, even if and when some interests are incompatible and therefore antagonistic. Such a conception of democracy has the advantage of encouraging the community identification that is in any case at the heart of all social groups, as well as the advantage of recognizing that there is no reason to expect a consensus on any major issue in a society of free, intelligent individuals. The upshot is that once we disaggregate Dewey from the deliberative democrats we are able to see how his democratic theory of common interests is compatible with Mouffes agonistic democracy. So the two have this much in common, and they differ in the same respects from recent theories of deliberative democracy. Nonetheless they also share with deliberative democratic theories the idea that some social and political structures are necessary for democratic social development and action. At the political level there must be institutions capable of providing the opportunity for the engagement of differing views and interests within a polity, and for the constructive exercise of both debate and power. At the social level there must be social institutions and the habits of mind within the populace necessary to enable constructive engagement with one another in the ongoing effort to address our problems. The difference, again, is that these political and social institutions should not be expected to funnel interests and disagreements into a consensus, with respect either to a general conception of the good or to broader scale individual and social interests, but to enable the constructive, intelligent pursuit of both our differences and our common interests. II We suggested at the outset that one of the traits of Deweys approach that makes it work is that he draws his basic conceptions not from principle or theory but from the ways people actually interact. As we will see, Meads approach has a similar virtue, one that also helps us with a conception of democracy that can handle the reality of social and political antagonisms. The critical points to make are first that pragmatism is a philosophy of dialogue and of human interaction, and second that it follows from this that pragmatism is a philosophy that always seeks sources of human cooperation. This of course does not mean that pragmatism does not see that human societies have always been ridden with conflicts and contradictions. Pragmatic philosophers, especially those who were associated in Chicago with Jane Adams and Hull House, were optimistic about a possibility of overcoming these contradictions. They believed, however, that it is always possible to find a way for a better understanding between different groups of society through social dialogue. For the discussion of the problem of the place of dialogue in democratic society I find George Herbert Meads thought of special importance because of the link he establishes between the self and social interactions, and in turn between democracy and the self. This link is a consequence of his general views on the self as an effect of interactions between individuals. This social-psychological rooting of democracy enables us to look at a democratic system as an extension and in a sense a culmination of elements which in themselves are not of political character but rather necessary conditions for the emergence of the self. The self emerges from more and more generalized exchanges between human individuals, and democracy is a political system that enables individuals to enter the space of universal human relations where each individual can take the role of anyone else. From this point of view, democracy is a kind of regulative ideal which is not pre-given but it is a consequence of the processes involved in the very constitution of a democratic system. Democracy is thus an ongoing process that facilitates amelioration through understanding, to use a catchy phrase coined by T.V. Smith.10 This phrase is, in our view, an expression of a normative dimension that is indispensable in democracy. Democracy, from this perspective, is not only a system of popular sovereignty but also a constant struggle for better and better understanding among people. Meads theory gives at least a sketch of the process of the development of understanding from an elementary form of sociality to sophisticated institutions and the Lebenswelt of modern societies. Understanding is a significant aspect of building the self, as only through the mechanism of taking the role of the other can we become social selves. This concept of the self opens a road for constituting democratic society, and Mead is very much aware of this possibility. What is especially important for Meads conception is that he accepts the pragmatic perspective on the individual as at the same time a social and creative being, and these two moments are harmonious with one another. Both sides of human existence supplement each other and provide a foundation for a contemporary political theory of democracy, as we are increasingly aware that democracy is social, and it is a creation of agreement and of resistance, of universality and of particularity. Pragmatism, especially that of Dewey and Mead, captures well this multifaceted nature of democratic society. We will concentrate in what follows on Meads idea of democracy as a result of everyday lifes communication, as well as on a creative and future-oriented concept of democracy. Both factors enable us to show that Meads concept of democracy contains a potential that can useful for overcoming the gap in contemporary political theory between antagonistic and consensual notions of democratic society. We will argue that Meads theory can explain how amelioration through understanding can find its way within a society that is full of contradictions and conflicts. Democracy was not for Mead only one question of theory. Apart of being a professor at the University of Chicago he was also a devoted social activist. He was involved in several social initiatives, including Jane Adams Hull House and the University of Chicago Settlement House. In his social activities Mead, as Gary Cook notes, insists that in order to solve social problems one has to give up a pulpit mentality. In the paper that summarizes his social experience Mead writes: The pulpit is called upon to inspire to right conduct, not to find out what is the right unless the right is so plain that he who runs may read. While its dogma has been abstruse its morality has been uniformly simple. When, then, the new problems arise, such as the question of the right of the employer to use his property rights to control and exploit the labor of children and woman, the justice of the union in its effort to advance the wage, and a hundred more such problems which have been crowding upon us, the pulpit is unable to solve them because it has not apparatus, and the scientific technique which the solution of such problems demand. In the meantime it holds its peace, for it must give no uncertain sound to battle. The only overt social issues with which the pulpit in recent time has identifies itself has been temperance and chastity.11 Mead thus warns against deducing solutions to social problems from ethical principles, and he instead proposes to turn to both everyday life experience and scientific methods of finding answer to difficulties coming from a given situation. The part of Mind, Self, and Society that is devoted to politics, and to democracy in particular is, as Mead himself insists, an application of his general theoretical framework of the concept of the self to this form of society. To understand his point we have to remember that for Mead the self is an effect of social interactions among individuals, and Mead considers the evolution of political systems from this point of view. They are regarded as an embedment of more and more inclusive relationships among individuals, and democracy is the culmination of this process. Democracy is thus for Mead the universal form of society, and as such it can be understood as a culmination of two different processes of the universalization of society: that of the economy and that of religion. Mead carefully sketches this development as the scattered communications of different societies have taken more and more ordered and universal forms. There is in human society a universality that expresses itself very early in two different ways one on the religious side and the other on the economic side. These processes as social processes are universal. They provide ends which any form that makes use of the same medium of communication can enter upon.12 Mead shows the development of universality through subsequent stages where communication among individuals becomes more and more inclusive. In both cases the final point of this universality is a universal society that includes the whole of the human race, and into which all can so far enter into relationship with the other through the medium of communication. They can recognize others as members and as brothers.13 These two processes of universalization seem to be rooted in the general process of communication that finds its fulfillment in the universe of discourse. The universe of discourse which deals simply with the highest abstractions opens the door for the interrelationship of the different groups in their different characters.14 It turned out that as the two processes of social development provide the necessary conditions for the development of communication for the stage of universal discourse, they are also a premise for the universality of human communities. The very universality of the processes which belong to human society, whether looked at from the point of view of religion or trading or logical thinking, at least opens the door to a universal society; and, in fact, these tendencies all express themselves where the social development has gone far enough to make it possible.15 So we deal with two concrete processes of interactions: that of economy and that of religion; each of them has its own dynamics though both work together to create a universal condition for communication that Mead calls a universum of discourse. Meads concept of democracy as the universal society that emerges from economic exchange and the religious idea of neighborhood is opposed to the dominant tendency in contemporary political theory to single out a separate sphere of activity which is called the political by contrast with other spheres of social actions. The proponents of this standpoint draw on the work of Carl Schmitt and Hannah Arendt, who tried to show that the political is not reducible to any other form of sociality. Mead shows that politics is closely interwoven in the complicated process of the development of communication embedded in the economy and religion. Democracy can be viewed from this standpoint as a cumulative consequence of these two processes. But of course the question arises what is the main mechanism enabling the emergence of democracy? The answer lies, as we have suggested, in Meads social psychology and his concept of the social self. However, Mead seems to stress the centripetal forces that make a society more and more coherent. Where, then, is there a place for conflict and contradiction? Mead and Dewey look at democracy (and politics in general) as the extension of everyday human communication, but for them as it is well known that the concept of communication has a special and pregnant meaning. Communication is a medium of establishing the human self and mind, so in other words communication endows biological organisms with consciousness and self-consciousness. It is worth noticing that the pre-history of democracy originates, as do all other human activities, in the exchange between biological organisms. This thesis, although never elaborated with specific reference to politics, resonates in all what Dewey and Mead say about democracy. The embedding of communication in simple gestures, so important for Meads account of the self, gives to any human activity a touch of concreteness that prevents them from escaping into futile abstraction or subordination to hypostatized categories. For this reason politics is not a realm of rational action, but it contains emotions, sentiments, and even prejudices. However, all of these non-rational elements are in the last instance incorporated into the system of human interactions that forms the self and mind. Reciprocity of action is an axiom for Meads account of human conduct. Interactions of course go on in different spheres of social reality, but for Mead religion and economics are of the greatest importance. Their development changes the trajectory of human interactions, making them more and more general precisely in the sense of more and more universal interactions between individuals. The political consequence of this process of universalization may be labeled democracy. NOTES John Dewey, Democracy and Education, Middle Works Vol. 9, Jo Ann Boydston ed., Carbondale IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1980. See Chapter 7, The Democratic Conception in Education. See for example Chantal Mouffe, The Democratic Paradox, London, Verso, 2009. See especially Robert Talisse, Democracy After Liberalism, NY: Routledge, 2005, and A Pragmatist Philosophy of Democracy, NY: Routledge, 2007. Talisses criticism of Deweyan democracy has prompted a healthy debate in the journals. Among the more interesting responses are Shane J. Ralston, In Defense of Democracy as a Way of Life: A Reply to Talisses Pluralist Objection, Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society, Vol. 44, No. 4, 2008, pp 629-660; Phillip Deen, A Call for Inclusion in the Pragmatic Justification of Democracy, Contemporary Pragmatism, Vol. 6, No. 1, June 2009, pp 131-151; Colin Koopman, Good Questions and Bad Answers in Talisses A Pragmatist Philosophy of Democracy, Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society, Vol. 45, No. 1, 2009, pp 60-64; J. Caleb Clanton and Andrew T. Forcehimes, Can Peircean Epistemic Perfectionists Bid Farewell to Deweyan Democracy?, Contemporary Pragmatism, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2009, pp 165-183. Talisse has responded to many of these analyses. See for example his Response to My Critics, Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society, Vol. 45, No. 1, 2009, pp 90-108. The issue of dissent has been discussed in John Ryder, Is Pragmatic Political Technology a Reasonable Possibility?, Education for a Democratic Society, John Ryder and Gert-Rdiger Wegmarshaus eds., (Central European Pragmatist Forum, Vol. 3) Value Inquiry Book Series, Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007, pp 113-120; see also Michael Eldridge in the same volume, Thick Democracy Too Much? Try Pragmatism Lite, pp 121-129. Chantal Mouffe, op.cit., passim. Larry Hickman has discussed the relation between Dewey and Mouffe in The Genesis of Democratic Norms: Some Insights from Classical Pragmatism, Democracy as Culture, eds. Sor-Hoon Tan and John Whalen-Bridge, 21-30, Albany, SUNY Press, 2008. In this paper Hickman holds, as I do, that there is more compatibility between Dewey and Mouffe than one might suspect, and probably than Mouffe suspects, though he also rightly emphasizes a critical difference, which is that Deweys experimental approach is missing from Mouffe. In any case, his focus is on methodological similarities rather that the issue of common interests. For a more elaborate consideration of the question of a properly pragmatist foreign policy see John Ryder, American Philosophy and Foreign Policy, in Alexander Kremer and John Ryder eds., Self and Society, (Central European Pragmatist Forum Vol. 4), Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2009, pp 139-157; see also John Ryder, Democracy and Common Interests across Borders, Human Affairs, Vol. 20, No. 2, June, 2010, pp 108-113. Though he does not discuss Mouffe, Shane Ralston has also argued that there is good reason not to read Dewey as a deliberative democrat. See his  HYPERLINK "http://docs.lib.purdue.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1172&context=eandc" Dewey's Theory of Moral (and Political) Deliberation Unfiltered, Education and Culture: Vol. 26: Issue 1, Article 4. Available at:  HYPERLINK "http://docs.lib.purdue.edu/eandc/vol26/iss1/art4" http://docs.lib.purdue.edu/eandc/vol26/iss1/art4. There are many studies of Dewey that place him in the context of the theories of deliberative democracy. See for example, John Shook, Deliberative Democracy and Moral Pluralism: Dewey vs. Rawls and Habermas, in John Ryder and Krystyna Wilkoszewska eds, Deconstruction and Reconstruction, (Central European Pragmatist Forum Vol. 2), Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2004, pp 31-41; Alison Kadlec, Deweys Critical Pragmatism, Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2007, and the review essay that discusses Kadlecs book by William R. Caspary, On Dewey, Habermas and Deliberative Democracy, Journal of Public Deliberation, Vol. 4, Issue 1, 2008, Article 10; David Woods, Renewing the Pragmatist Roots of Participatory and Deliberative Democracy: Dewey, Mead, Park and Habermas, American Sociological Association Annual Meeting, Atlanta, GA, August 13, 2010; and The Ethos of Participatory and Deliberative Democracy in Rebuilding the Civil Sphere: Dewey, Mead, and Alexander, Society for the Advancement of American Philosophy, March 10, 2010. In a related strain of interpretation of Dewey and social pragmatism generally with an emphasis on community, see James Campbell, The Centrality of Community to Democracy, John Ryder and Emil ViHovsk eds., Pragmatism and Values (Central European Pragmatist Forum Vol. 1) Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2004, pp 99-103, and  Community and Democracy, The Blackwell Guide to American Philosophy, Armen Marsoobian and John Ryder eds., Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2004, pp 289-305. See especially Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe, Hegemony and Socialist Strategy: Towards a Radical Democratic Politics, London: Verso, 2001. See Introduction by Helen Swick Perry [in:] Harry Stack Sullivan The Fusion of Psychiatry and Social Science, W.W. Norton & Company Inc. New York, 1971 pp. xxiii-xxxii. George Herbert Mead, The Social Settlement: Its Basis and Function, University of Chicago, University Record 12 1908 pp. 108-110. 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