Category: Education & Research

  • Participatory Methods, Counterpower, and the Co-Production of Space

    Participatory Methods, Counterpower, and the Co-Production of Space

    Introduction

    The academy has often served as a pillar of state dominance, through the empirical validation of the imperial project. The state’s recognition of academic intellectual authority and the academy’s appeal to state political authority creates a mutually reinforcing matrix which gives structure to the formal, and dictates “which bodies can conduct research and posit theory and which bodies get to be researched and theorized”.[1]Guishard, M. (2009). The false paths, the endless labors, the turns now this way and now that: Participatory action research, mutual vulnerability, and the politics of inquiry. The Urban Review, 41, … Continue reading The imperial violence of the state, both internal and external, is mirrored by the often invasive character of academic research: an imposition of power that renders the subject as object. Some attempts to subvert this power relationship fall under the broad umbrella of “participatory methods” and include a wide range of epistemologies, which provide research subjects with some degree of agency, and redefine the terms of knowledge production, by resituating and redistributing intellectual authority.[2]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. 

    In the sections that follow, I will discuss several participatory methods, their commonalities and differences, along the spectrum of  “participation”, which ranges from the extraction of information from research subjects to actively contesting and reformulating dynamics of power. I am particularly interested in how participatory methods might be used as a strategy for cultivating more equitable social and political relations, and building community power and control over the means and modes of production, distribution, and consumption. To that end, I attempt to synthesize and distill various epistemologies into a framework for the co-production of both physical and social space.

    What Means Participation and to What Ends?

    What is meant by “participation” or “involvement” varies case by case, but generally refers to three positions: those who stand to be impacted by the decisions made about how space will be transformed and used, those who can offer knowledge to inform the changes, and those who ultimately have the power to decide what changes and how it changes. The term “participatory methods” actually refers to epistemologies or orientations[3]Guishard, M. (2009). The false paths, the endless labors, the turns now this way and now that: Participatory action research, mutual vulnerability, and the politics of inquiry. The Urban Review, 41, … Continue reading, wherein the researcher and the subjects collaborate horizontally, or with the subjects themselves being the researchers. The methods within this broader orientation are many, including but not limited to surveys, mapping, focus groups, story circles, and interviews. The use of these methods alone, however, does not make a process participatory, and in fact, they are often used in ways that reinforce existing power relations. 

    Sherry Arnstein conceptualized this dynamic as a “ladder of participation” (Figure 1), wherein the bottom rungs represented various degrees of “nonparticipation” — those impacted by development decisions manipulated by the process.[4]Arnstein, S. R. (1969). A ladder of citizen participation. Journal of the American Institute of planners, 35(4), 216-224. The middle rungs represent “tokenism”, the sourcing of information from those impacted, and telegraphing that feedback as an indication of power-sharing, when it is “really little more than consultation.[5]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. FInally, the top rungs represent good faith attempts to transfer decision-making authority, or even to shift the locus of power.

    Figure 1: The Ladder of Participation, adapted from Arnstein (1969), illustrates the spectrum of power held by residents in planning processes.

    Participatory methods can be difficult to deploy, due in part to a well-established pattern by state and academic actors of extracting data from participants for their own objectives, or to invoke a democratic process, even though the actual decisions are still being made from the top down. Even where data is collected toward empowering ends, the ideal of collaboration often stalls at analysis and representation[6]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. — that is, the stage at which the interpretation of the data translates into meaningful transformation of lived conditions or power dynamics. Accordingly, would-be participants are less inclined to commit their time and energy to a process in which their input has no actual influence[7]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136. or worse, where the mere fact of their participation is used to validate a predetermined decision or plan made by people in power. 

    Such processes are extractive and exploitative by intent and design, flattening people into “mere datasets, risk calculations, and variables in financial algorithms[8]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue.,” and tempering anticipated resistance by involving subalternated people on a superficial and ephemeral level [9]Cochrane, L., & Corbett, J. (2020). Participatory mapping. Handbook of communication for development and social change, 705-713.[10]Guishard, M. (2009). The false paths, the endless labors, the turns now this way and now that: Participatory action research, mutual vulnerability, and the politics of inquiry. The Urban Review, 41, … Continue reading. Research that may have once given voice to the subalternated now often silences them, by speaking on their behalf, rather than making space or creating a platform for their own self-expression.[11]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. Those truly invested in using participatory methods as a means of empowering the marginalized, disenfranchised, or oppressed (hereafter “subalternated”) must be committed to working from the bottom up, involving the public in every aspect of research, planning, and/or decision-making.[12]Mukherjee, F. (2015). Public participatory GIS. Geography Compass, 9(7), 384-394.

    Other barriers to implementation include fear of participation, institutional distrust, lack of experience in participatory methods amongst those in power, regulatory obstacles, and lack of support from various stakeholders.[13]Mukherjee, F. (2015). Public participatory GIS. Geography Compass, 9(7), 384-394. There is also the matter of accessibility, especially where research methods employ technologies or tools which require specialized training or are expensive (e.g. GIS), creating a drain on people’s time and financial resources). The technologies themselves can distract from the goal of meaningful engagement[14]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136., which requires a commitment to the more social side of the process: the building of trusting relationships.[15]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press. 

    The relationships between participants — especially where the initiative comes from outside the subject community —  are essential in determining the power dynamics within the process. The false pretexts of objectivity and externality are discarded in favor of recognition of how all participants are situated with respect to each other and their collective work, “a multi-layered reflexivity: self, interpersonal and collective”[16]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854., which creates “a space in which the subjectivity of the co-researchers and the researched can express themselves.”[17]Sacchetto, D., Emanuela, A., & Steve, W. (2013). Coresearch and counter-research: Romano Alquati’s itinerary within and beyond Italian radical political thought. Viewpoint Magazine, (3), 1-8. Participants must also remain in a state of critical reflection, “critique and problematization”[18]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85., enabling the construction of ever new and accumulative theory and praxis, in all possible directions[19]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. and in a “spiral becoming”.[20]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85.

    In order for participatory processes to unsettle existing power relations, they must challenge dominant worldviews[21]Cochrane, L., & Corbett, J. (2020). Participatory mapping. Handbook of communication for development and social change, 705-713., oppose hegemonic narratives[22]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press., and create alternative models which grant the subalternated the agency to advance their own vision.[23]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue. It requires the “deconstruction of the dominant forms of perception[24]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies.,” and the abandonment of a certain cynicism, wherein “expertise” is only situated at the “top” — the credentialed, the elected, the wealthy — and rejecting the idea that “knowledge emanating from marginalized standpoints is unworthy and deficient.”[25]Guishard, M. (2009). The false paths, the endless labors, the turns now this way and now that: Participatory action research, mutual vulnerability, and the politics of inquiry. The Urban Review, 41, … Continue reading 

    Instead, a truly participatory process recognizes that valuable knowledge can be actively produced by everyone[26]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136., especially the subalternated. This challenge to both dominant power and knowledge systems must be made explicit at every stage of the participatory process, from the collection of data, including the creation of the tools and the formulation of the questions [27]Renzi, A. (2021). Data Acquisition, Data Analytics, and Data Articulations: DIY Accountability Tools and Resistance in Indonesia—An Interview with Irendra Radjawali of Drone Academy, Indonesia. In … Continue reading, to the analysis and application.

    The use of participatory methods to actually shift power or control of resources “would represent a radical departure from current top-down land use planning methods used by most public agencies and municipal governments[28]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136..” Ownership and control of the data itself, which usually lies with those who sponsor the process, such as government agencies, NGOs, or paid consultants[29]Cochrane, L., & Corbett, J. (2020). Participatory mapping. Handbook of communication for development and social change, 705-713., must instead be granted to the people and communities that produce it — call this “data sovereignty”[30]Renzi, A. (2021). Data Acquisition, Data Analytics, and Data Articulations: DIY Accountability Tools and Resistance in Indonesia—An Interview with Irendra Radjawali of Drone Academy, Indonesia. In … Continue reading — as a means of securing power.

    Participatory Mapping

    Participatory mapping — broadly defined as sourcing geographic information from people and communities within the area of interest — is itself a wide umbrella, including various epistemologies such as participatory geographic information systems (PGIS), public participatory geographic information systems (PPGIS), and volunteered geographic information (VGI). The differences between the three are subtle, but generally, they aim to both provide subalternated populations with access to geographic information technologies, and to incorporate their knowledge in research conclusions and any policy or development decisions that follow. 

    The different forms of mapping are the products of “social, institutional, and political context [31]Mukherjee, F. (2015). Public participatory GIS. Geography Compass, 9(7), 384-394.,” and therefore are not passive or benign activities. What’s mapped, such as “landscape values, development preferences, place qualities, and participant experiences or behaviors within space [32]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136.,” what’s included or excluded, who does the mapping, why the mapping is being done, where and when it’s done all carry implications of power [33]Cochrane, L., & Corbett, J. (2020). Participatory mapping. Handbook of communication for development and social change, 705-713.[34]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136.. As Harley says, “cartography…is never merely the drawing of maps: it is the making of worlds”.[35]Harley, J. B. (1990). Cartography, ethics and social theory. Cartographica: The International Journal for Geographic Information and Geovisualization, 27(2), 1-23. 

    In all cases participatory mapping invokes the individual and collective memory of people around their physical and social experiences within a space, their sense of how space is currently being used and their projections of how land use may change in the future [36]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136.. Tracing Arnstein’s ladder of participation, participatory mapping also varies in the ends to which it is deployed, from data extraction and manipulation, to empowerment. 

    The tools and methods used within participatory mapping vary widely as well: including but not limited to collaborative sketching, 3D modeling (physical and digital), GPS and satellite photos, drones, remote sensing, and the geospatial web, and can either ameliorate or exacerbate the power differential inherent to mapping itself. According to Mukherjee, while the methods have evolved, the dynamics of “participation” have not kept pace.[37]Mukherjee, F. (2015). Public participatory GIS. Geography Compass, 9(7), 384-394.

    Geographic information systems (GIS), which mediated the production and exchange of knowledge through specialized tools, equipment, and training, have been mostly inaccessible to subalternated populations [38]Mukherjee, F. (2015). Public participatory GIS. Geography Compass, 9(7), 384-394.. The emergence of computerized GIS also corresponded to the prioritization of quantitative data, and the devaluation of the qualitative. This was not just a matter of access to useful tools and data, but informed the power dynamics between those making decisions over the use of space, and those who lived and worked in it. GIS became indispensable in technical, academic, and policymaking circles, as a way to quantify various aspects of space, from the value of extractable assets and potential land uses to the lived conditions of people in those spaces, the former often coming at the expense of the latter. 

    PGIS and PPGIS emerged into and in response to this growing gap, with the word “participatory” referring to the direct involvement of subalternated populations in mapping physical and social space — that is, the material characteristics of both the natural and built environment, as well as the ways that people move within and use the space. The difference between PGIS and PPGIS is less methodological and more a matter of where each tended to be practiced, with the PGIS taken up mostly in the Global South, and PPGIS in the north. Both source voluntary geographic information (VGI) from resident populations, and how it is used differs more between practitioners and their agendas than between the two methods. 

    PGIS and PPGIS are both concerned with the management of natural resources, and changes in urban land use toward ends of “revitalization” and “development”, and “involving” people in decision-making. The degree to which mapping is participatory — that is, how power over decision-making is distributed — tends to correspond to what kind of organization is doing the mapping. This is not only a matter of power or equity, but also data quality, which is affected by the meaningful participation of those impacted by land use decisions.[39]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136. The state, which holds ultimate power over land-use, is often under no legal or political obligation to involve residents in decision-making. The academy tends to hover around the middle, eager to collect data from subalternated populations, but not necessarily committed to using their research to support people’s needs or demands. Community-based organizations, especially those formed within and from the communities where the research and decision-making is taking place, tend toward true participation, mapping as a means of vesting citizens with the power to control their own land. 

    Renzi discusses practices of counter-mapping and counter-modelling in Indonesia, through the collection and analysis of various data, from “census information, personal and local histories, socio-economic networks maps and planning records” to maps of indigenous territory and informal settlements, and the location and condition of natural assets.[40]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue.[41]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press. These data in turn inform movements for claiming or reclaiming space, opposing land corporate or state land grabs, settle territorial disputes between communities without involving the courts, improve local agriculture, make the informal visible as a means of (re)claiming space, create more viable flood models to build resilience in the face of climate change, and “generate connections among people” and foster the “transformative potential of collaborative knowledge production to sustain communities in struggle.”[42]Renzi, A. (2021). Data Acquisition, Data Analytics, and Data Articulations: DIY Accountability Tools and Resistance in Indonesia—An Interview with Irendra Radjawali of Drone Academy, Indonesia. In … Continue reading

    Counter-modelling engages communities in the “prototyping of the infrastructure through a process of visioning and research facilitated by expert volunteers.”[43]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue. These alternative data deployments are constituted in opposition to the extractive uses of data by state and corporate actors, which attempt to impose order on the informal as a means of legibility, and through that, control and the accumulation of capital. [44]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue. The potential for data extraction is subverted through “data sovereignty”, which requires not only that communities secure and retain control of their own data, but that its acquisition, analysis, and articulation be collectivized, so that  “new forms of knowledge and practices of resistance can emerge.[45]Renzi, A. (2021). Data Acquisition, Data Analytics, and Data Articulations: DIY Accountability Tools and Resistance in Indonesia—An Interview with Irendra Radjawali of Drone Academy, Indonesia. In … Continue reading

    Participatory Action Research

    Participatory Action Research (PAR) is another epistemology with contested origins, but generally associated with major thinkers such as Paulo Freire, Orlando Fals-Borda, and Walter Rodney — though the latter is better associated with the term “groundings”, which captures the same spirit of research as a means of counterpower. PAR is generally defined as research that recognizes people as the experts of their own experience, a concept otherwise known as “standpoint epistemology”, and that they are best suited to conduct inquiries into their own issues and concerns. PAR, as an epistemology, commonly uses multiple methods, such as focus groups, interviews, asset mapping, observation, and photovoice. What distinguishes PAR from traditional academic research is that these methods are conducted by the members of the subject community themselves, rather than by an outside researcher. The role of the “researcher”, if not a member of the community, should only be advisory, or to train participants in the methods. It is not for any outside researcher to dictate or impose their own objectives. 

    PAR is most commonly used amongst people in a subordinate position within a given power dynamic: the residents of a gentrifying community, the workers at an exploitative company, indigenous people fighting against ongoing displacement. As with any such practice, the potential for co-option is ever-present, and regardless of the essence of PAR, its implementation still varies with respect to levels of participation as conceptualized by Arnstein’s ladder. For example, the key pivot of PAR — the situating of the subject as researcher — could easily be exploited to extract labor from participants as well as data. How the data is used, and to what ends, how it is analyzed, and how has access to it, are all variables influencing how “participatory” the research truly is. 

    One might argue, however, that the most important part of PAR is not the “participation”, but the “action”. If there is no move to positively transform the conditions of the subject community, then the research may not qualify as PAR at all. A related term, community-based participatory research (CBPR), removes the critical “A” for action, and accordingly is a term more commonly used by the state and other institutional actors. In these cases, where “the action component is first to be jettisoned when confronting the practicalities of community research”[46]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854., participation is seen as enough in its own right, independent of whether or not the research has any significant impact on the lived realities of the subject community. 

    Another pitfall within the practice of PAR has been co-option through the politics of representation, or “elite capture”, meaning that institutions of power cloak themselves in the language of equity, or even justice, as a symbolic gesture, or “virtue signaling”, while not meaningfully engaging with the populations whose identities they invoke. There are tensions between so-called standpoint epistemology, and politics of representation (often mischaracterized as “identity politics”), for the fact that there is not a 1-to-1 correspondence between identity and lived experience. 

    Put another way, if the research is intended to effect action on behalf of an oppressed identity group, a member of that group who is not oppressed in that particular way, is not automatically an expert on experience they actually do not have. It is easy enough, and common practice, for institutions to elevate an individual member of an identity group as a token signaling their commitment to the broader community. Where standpoint epistemology is steeped in a shallow politics of representation, it is a failure in tactics, serving only to reinforce the “cultural and political hegemony of the Western bourgeoisie.”[47]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85.

    What’s also true is that even where one’s membership in an identity group confers useful expertise, said expertise can be enhanced by outside perspectives. Indigenous knowledge systems, such as Nishnaabewin[48]Simpson, L. B. (2017). As we have always done: Indigenous freedom through radical resistance. U of Minnesota Press. and Red Pedagogy[49]Grande, S. (2016). Red pedagogy: Indigenizing inquiry or, the un-methodology. In Ethical futures in qualitative research (pp. 133-143). Routledge. recognize the value of drawing upon diverse bodies of theory and praxis as vital for navigating the “larger systems, forces and relationships” in which they’re situated[50]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854., but only where this exchange of knowledge and practice is done in the “absence of coercion and hierarchy and in the presence of compassion.”[51]Simpson, L. B. (2017). As we have always done: Indigenous freedom through radical resistance. U of Minnesota Press.

    What makes PAR effective in transforming power dynamics is not merely situating the subject as expert, but empowering community members to be project leaders, which in turn enables them to navigate the cultural norms and rules so as to create relatively safe spaces for community members to engage in the “co-production of pedagogical safe-places that enable intersubjective contemplation and growth in consciousness about social processes and options for resistance.”[52]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854.

    One of the strengths of PAR is that it does not have to involve the academy at all. The practice of research deeply rooted in community, designed to investigate, challenge, and ultimately transform social and political relations is not unique to PAR itself, but is essential to doing it well and for the right reasons.

    Conricerca and Militant Research

    Conricerca, or “co-research” is a practice and orientation arising from workers movements in both Europe and Latin America, to contest the power relations inherent to labor. It therefore differs from other participatory methods in that it is unambiguously political and oriented toward resistance[53]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press., seeking to “understand which forces are fighting for what kind of transformation with what kind of organization.”[54]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85. The critical turn of co-research is to make explicit what PAR often only implies: the “subjectivation” of the participants[55]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies., that is, the situating of participants as subjects rather than objects of the research, who can play an “active part in envisioning and realizing social change.”[56]Sacchetto, D., Emanuela, A., & Steve, W. (2013). Coresearch and counter-research: Romano Alquati’s itinerary within and beyond Italian radical political thought. Viewpoint Magazine, (3), 1-8. In stronger terms, co-research is the “decolonization of subjectivity of the construction of counter-subjectivity.”[57]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85. 

    These two processes — the cultivation of subjectivity and organizing for resistance against dominant power — are taken up simultaneously by co-researchers[58]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press.[59]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85.. Unlike most academic research, conricerca is not purely epistemological, but also ontological, its goals ultimately attending to the transformation of the subject and its conditions[60]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85., which inevitably requires contesting relations of domination and exploitation. This focus on subjectivity, however, implies nothing about the rigors of co-research, which formulates hypotheses, “tests them, modifies and implements them, and then constructs more advanced levels of knowledge and strength”.[61]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85.

    Militant research, while embodying the same emphases on subjectivity and resistance, modifies co-research in one critical way: the voiding of any assumptions about what the subjects already know or should come to know, or what the goals of the process should be. The militant researcher takes on the role of Ranciere’s ignorant schoolmaster in “not knowing”, to avoid projecting anything —  “meanings, values, interests, filiations, causes, influences, rationalities, intentions, and unconscious motives to their object”[62]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. — whether as part of a political agenda or an academic objective. 

    Such projection is analogous to the observer effect in physics, changing the subject through the interaction, rather than experiencing it in its most authentic incarnation. In rejecting the imperial orientations of the academy, the state, the NGO, philanthropist, and even the expectations of “the party” for what “should be” based on a ideological canon[63]Sacchetto, D., Emanuela, A., & Steve, W. (2013). Coresearch and counter-research: Romano Alquati’s itinerary within and beyond Italian radical political thought. Viewpoint Magazine, (3), 1-8., militant research takes on a certain ambivalence, making space for a multitude of counterpower formations, including hidden knowledges[64]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. and latent practices[65]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press. which may not be immediately or at all recognizable as political.

    Embracing the Plenitude

    All participatory methods, even, or perhaps especially if they are deployed for political purposes, have the potential to depress or obscure a community’s own desires or motivations, under the pretext of empowerment. Where participant engagement ebbs and flows, or where “researchers assume a functional, singular ‘community’ that is waiting to participate,”[66]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. the work might even start to resemble coercion.[67]Guishard, M. (2009). The false paths, the endless labors, the turns now this way and now that: Participatory action research, mutual vulnerability, and the politics of inquiry. The Urban Review, 41, … Continue reading Well-meaning researchers and/or activists, committed to taking up the “cause” of the subalternated, with a specific agenda or outcome in mind, may in turn fail to recognize, or otherwise disregard or diminish the “social needs, the traditions of struggle, as well as the practices of dissent that are already latent or present in hidden forms”.[68]Renzi, A. (2020). Hacked Transmissions: Technology and Connective Activism in Italy. U of Minnesota Press. Militant research embraces this plurality — what Colectivo Situaciones calls the “plenitude”, understanding that not all resistance involves explicit confrontation with the state. 

    Similarly, conricerca attempts to recognize that the mission to create new worlds requires “a great new collective narration, one that is not univocal but rather is made up of many irreducible singular narrations[69]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85., and an “openness to ontological pluralism and multinatures[70]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854.,” It attempts to reveal and potentially scale up more subtle and emergent methods of resistance. These may include what Asef Bayat calls quiet encroachment: atomized, unstructured, non-ideological acts of everyday resistance, as a means of securing material needs — through illegal seizure and redistribution — rather than a concentrated political movement.[71]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press. This absence of defined, concentrated, structured resistance may seem powerless or even apolitical — indeed, even participants themselves hesitate to classify or reject its classification as political[72]Kinder, K. (2016). DIY Detroit: Making do in a city without services. U of Minnesota Press. — due to a lack of policy change[73]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading.

    Hayes-Conroy and her colleagues discuss how the activities of the people in Medellin, Colombia are also geared toward the improvement of living conditions, both material and affective. The primary difference is that the activities are not quiet, but loud and performative (e.g. dance, theater, fire blowing, music). The youth and community actors in Medellin reject the characterization of their activities as “resistance”, because they’re not actively challenging the state or the gangs and haven’t resulted in any structural change. Instead these activities are creating “affective, spatial, and convocational gains”, which have a real impact on the people’s quality of life that policy change may not.[74]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading

    The affective dimension of these activities is significant for how they inspire people and expand the horizon of possibility, and also how they enable people to gain social and political capital on a local level, as well as a sense of belonging that may have otherwise come from membership in gangs. The spatial and convocational gains come through these groups’ ability to informally “mobilize” large groups of people — audiences not activists — in public spaces which would ordinarily be prohibited, but are ignored or allowed by authorities, who see the activities as “both helpful (to the community) and non-threatening (to prevailing interests)”.[75]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading

    Although these “not quite quiet” activities do not directly contest or resist existing power dynamics in Medellin, they do serve as a means of “lay[ing] the foundations for a hypothetical mobilization of the urban subaltern,”[76]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading what Bayat refers to as “passive networks”[77]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press., which under the right conditions can lead to a large and spontaneous resistance.

    What these often overlooked or diminished forms of resistance tend to have in common is that they do not constitute “a conscious political strategy”, but instead emerge out of “the necessity to survive and live a dignified life[78]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press.,” through improvement of both material and affective conditions.[79]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading These “self-provisioning” activities[80]Kinder, K. (2016). DIY Detroit: Making do in a city without services. U of Minnesota Press. attend to people’s immediate needs — redirecting and siphoning municipal water or energy supplies, building informal settlements or community gardens on private or government-owned land — and also “destabilize the affective control of authorities/elites”[81]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading, free people from “the discipline and controlling relations of the modern working institutions”, and “challenge modern principles of exchange value, bureaucracy, and the state.”[82]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press. 

    Although these activities most often emerge in response to the failure, neglect, or contempt of the state or other institutions of power, and the absence of any “institutional mechanism through which they can collectively express their grievances and resolve their problems[83]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press.,” they are done for their own sake, their own inherent value, without necessarily attempting to challenge political authority[84]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press., or to undermine the capitalist status quo.[85]Kinder, K. (2016). DIY Detroit: Making do in a city without services. U of Minnesota Press. Yet in spite of lack of an overt strategy, and the declassification of such activities as resistance, the informal capture and redistribution of resources, the “illegal” use of public space, and other moves toward autonomy are not only political, but do represent a challenge to the authority of the state, in “reclaim[ing] significant political space,” and for the fact that “a fully autonomous life renders states irrelevant.”[86]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press.

    Conricerca and militant research both place a particular focus on this informal or “quiet, resistance, identifying it as “the zone of potenza (power), the space of what is possible”[87]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85., approaching it with an intentional ambivalence and openness to unforeseen and unplanned possibilities. Indeed, these more subtle forms of resistance can result in the creation of “passive networks”, which under the right conditions can generate instant collective action.[88]Bayat, A. (1997). Street politics: poor people’s movements in Iran. Columbia University Press.

    Critically, by subverting “hegemonic notions of order and control”[89]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading and by achieving gains (affective, material, and political), people are more willing to fight to protect them, especially where the benefit is direct and concrete. It is easier, for example, to fight to defend a beloved community garden than to build abstract political power, or to defend a long continuity of culture and livelihood as indigenous people do, than to fight to “smash the state”. This is not about incrementalism, but rather about what actually motivates people. As Kinder notes, self-provisioning in Detroit tends to take place in the same locations as more concentrated organizing efforts, creating the potential for “mutually reinforcing connections between resident activism at the household scale and collective mobilization at the neighborhood and district levels.”[90]Kinder, K. (2016). DIY Detroit: Making do in a city without services. U of Minnesota Press. While the tipping point — what causes an exponential spike in revolutionary activity — eludes analysis, the conditions for spontaneous mass mobilization lie right at the surface. Where the focus — of the researcher, activist, NGO — is on the problem rather than creating or enhancing existing assets, it fails to activate the affective potential needed to drive a more organized and sustained resistance.

    Synthesis: Toward a Framework for Co-Production

    The success or failure of each of the participatory epistemologies discussed above might be reasonably determined by shifts in power. Yet how these shifts are measured — via policy changes, material or affective gains, enfranchisement —  are highly subjective, and therefore must be gauged by the participants themselves. Ultimately, if resistance, whether organized or atomized, does not transform meanings and values, only who occupies roles of dominant vs. subalternated, then relations of domination are maintained.[91]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. 

    Such a framework would always be experimental, like conricerca “a production of knowledge that is ‘other than,’ an experiment in organizational practices, and a space of resubjectification”[92]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85. — subject to constant reflection, revision, and rearticulation, in accordance with the unveiling, shifting, and evolving of participant values, motivations, and objectives. It would also necessarily engage all participants in a practice of mutual, renewable, and/or revocable consent, and one that “transforms the members of a collective within forms of cooperation and communication.”[93]Sacchetto, D., Emanuela, A., & Steve, W. (2013). Coresearch and counter-research: Romano Alquati’s itinerary within and beyond Italian radical political thought. Viewpoint Magazine, (3), 1-8. The framework would have to embrace, foreground, and uplift the “plenitude”, to start from a position of ambivalence, an openness to counterpower activities not explicitly conceived or understood as such: the “quiet encroachment” and informal practices not regarded — by participants or their antagonists — as political.

    Where Arnstein’s ladder of participation is juxtaposed with the continuum between subjectivation and objectification, it reveals a parallel spectrum of power from exploitation to self-determination (Figure 2). Where so-called participatory methods only extract information, it serves as both a form of manipulation (bottom of Arnstein’s ladder), and exploitation of the research object (through a disregard of their subjectivity). Where research is done as part of an “impact agenda”, rather than emerging from the needs of participants, it reeks of paternalism, ostensibly providing information or a “service”, and further cementing a sense of dependency. When this drive to “help” communities is taken up by activists — what Colectivo Situaciones calls “solidarity humanism”, it “naturalize[s]…the victimizing objectuality that separates everyone from their subjectifying and productive possibilities.”[94]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies.

    Climbing the ladder to the levels of consultation, placation, or even partnership, corresponds to attempts by the state or other institutional powers to confer “enfranchisement” — that is, to enable subalternated communities to participate on “equitable” terms within an existing structure, as opposed to challenging extractive or exploitative economies and societies themselves. Where such a move shifts the long weight of oppression, it may be seen as “justice”, but it could also be understood as merely redistributing existing values.[95]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. On the other hand, the authentic — as opposed to symbolic or rhetorical — delegation of power, or better yet, the recognition of extant and heretofore repressed power, inherent to one’s subjectivity, confers agency, and enables the activation of one’s own values and toward their own ends.

    Finally, where people are empowered to become the “creator of values, of experiences, of worlds,”[96]Colectivo Situaciones. (2003). On the researcher-militant. European Institute for Progressive Cultural Policies. to “[claim] the rights of self-definition, the right to tell their own histories, recover their own traditional knowledge,”[97]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. it is akin to self-determination (citizen control on Arnstein’s ladder), the highest form of subjectivity, and one of the prerequisites, alongside autonomy, for liberation. To effect such a monumental shift in power is not a singular action or transaction; rather it is the wholesale transformation of relationships, “the decolonization of individual and collective subjectivity, the decommodification of connections and relations, the delabouring of human activity.[98]Borio, G., Roggero, G., & Pozzi, F. (2007). Conricerca as political action. Utopian pedagogy: Radical experiments against neoliberal globalization, 163-85.

    The 5D Ecological Compass

    Background & Positionality

    In order to even propose a “framework for the co-production of space”, it feels important for me to build some background and establish my own positionality. I am a former K-12 science teacher turned school abolitionist, which perhaps sounds controversial until one considers how schooling, the relationship between teachers and learners, at least in the United States, is constructed much the same as the ladder of participation: a spectrum along which young people have varying degrees of subjectivity and power — practically never at the level of self-determination. My prior research analyzed schooling through the lens of enclosure, which I defined as a “physical or ideological partition that divides a larger whole, for purposes of commodification and/or control”, manifest across land, space, and time, and moving steadily “inward” to the community, the individual body, to the mind, to labor, learning, and the very experience of living. Abolition, in turn, is defined as “the dissolution of enclosures so as to liberate the movement of bodies, cultures, knowledges, resources, and/or energy, across space and time, along collectively self-determined pathways.” — which recognizes the “dual nature of abolition, as both a destructive and creative force, logic, and praxis.”[99]O, K. (Forthcoming). From the Schoolhouse to the Field: A Case for Abolition and Notes Toward an Education for Liberation. https://kermito.com/from-the-schoolhouse-to-the-field/

    Toward the end of my tenure as a school teacher, I embarked on a participatory action research project with students, for the purpose of studying the local impacts of climate change, and their connections to the more immediate issues young people in my own classroom were facing. At the time, PAR was like a breath of fresh air, but because of the power dynamics of the school, codified in our respective positions as “teacher” and “students”, there was an inherent coercion to the whole process. Since that time I have continued to embrace and advocate for PAR in various professional contexts. At the same time, I’ve contemplated, written, and labored extensively to understand and to hold the contradictions within “participation”, while seeking to create “a framework for education and organizing — living, learning, resisting, dreaming, creating — to resist the physical and ideological enclosures”[100]O, K. (Forthcoming). From the Schoolhouse to the Field: A Case for Abolition and Notes Toward an Education for Liberation. https://kermito.com/from-the-schoolhouse-to-the-field/ The proposed framework is a continuation of that endeavor.

    Overview

    The Five Dimensional (5D) Ecological Compass emerges in response to what I call “spatiotemporal alienation”: the “collapsing of being — body, mind, and activity — into discrete units of space-time”[101]O, K. (Forthcoming). From the Schoolhouse to the Field: A Case for Abolition and Notes Toward an Education for Liberation. https://kermito.com/from-the-schoolhouse-to-the-field/, attempting to invite communities into a collective inquiry process, situating themselves or other matters of interest/concern at the center — i.e. in relationship to time, space, and community (Figure 3). The compass is as much a tool as a framework, one that aims to invert power relations by situating the locus of control squarely with the community as subject. 

    The dimensions in question are the three spatial dimensions, plus one dimension for time, and a fifth for the social. Fundamentally, the compass is meant to stimulate conversation about the relationships between people in space, and across time. The right side of the horizontal axis examines social space, such as the relationship between an individual subject and their community, while the left side would be concerned with the individual’s relationship to their physical space. The vertical axis prompts inquiry into the individual’s past, present, and/or future identities.

    Figure 3: The 5D Ecological Compass. Questions generated can produce knowledge, drive action, and/or interrogate existing social, material, and political relations between people and their environment.

    The ordinal directions represent inquiry along trajectories of both space (social or physical) and time. Inquiry into the future of the community, corresponds to collective dreaming, while a rigorous exploration of the community’s past might encourage intergenerational dialogue between young people and elders to build collective memory. The past condition or composition of the environment — the embedded history of the land itself — might provide important context for current development considerations, or expose repeating trends that demand intervention. Inquiry into the future of the land is part of a process of worldmaking — which itself may either follow or disrupt a trajectory started in the past. The potential questions are practically infinite, and besides encouraging a process of co-production, the process carries the potential to build community relationships, enhance existing relationships, and ground people with respect to how they connect or have been disconnected from their physical environment.

    From participatory mapping, it borrows the practice of sourcing local stories of land, whether oral or written, collective community planning, and informal design. From PAR it borrows the practices of situating the researcher as an equal participant, collective knowledge production, and the assumption that the work it produces will lead to transformative action. From conricerca and militant research it borrows the practice of ambivalence and openness to the plenitude. The compass circumvents the need for any training in common methodologies such as interview, survey, focus group, because users generate and answer questions organically and collectively. The compass is meant to critique and intervene against those same methods, to the extent that its purpose is never to enfranchise marginalized populations, or to “include” them in existing state projects or political activism; nor to provide any “answers” to research questions. Rather it is intended to stimulate inquiry about the social and physical production of space toward the ends that participants themselves decide. 

    The interventions the compass proposes for all three epistemologies is an explicit grappling with the temporal, the affective, the material, and the dynamics of power. It rejects enfranchisement, is both ontological and technological, as well as epistemological, and can occupy a space outside of Arnstein’s ladder of participation, because it does not require the involvement of state or academic actors. In fact, it could even be used to project the will of the people onto/into and against those institutions.

    While the subject at the center of the compass acts as the fulcrum of the inquiry, if the subject is a social, cultural, or environmental phenomenon, like gun violence or air quality, it could also serve as a mediating factor in the relationship between the vertices of the compass itself. One might consider, for example, how gun violence mediates or informs the ways the community engages with the physical space of the neighborhood, or how the community’s experience in air quality past to present alters their horizon of possibility for how the space could be transformed in the future. The relationship between ordinal points can be explored as well, such as the collective memory of the environment, or projections of how people may relate to the environment in the future. 

    Epistemology + Technology + Ontology

    The framework is not just about asking questions / collecting data (epistemology), but about actively making changes to physical and social worlds (technology) and empowering people to contemplate, reflect upon, and dream/prefigure/change their lived realities (ontology). Using the compass, some epistemological questions might be: What do we know, what knowledge has been lost, what do we want to know / what knowledge do we want to restore? Technological questions might include: What are we doing / making / producing, what past productive capacities have we ceded to the state or capitalist enterprise, what do we want to build for the future? While the ontological might be concerned with: Who are we / What is this place? Who came before us? / What did this place used to be? Who do we want to become? What could this place become?

    Complications, Mediations, and Scale

    The transformative potential of participatory methods is stymied where they do not “accede to the affective and emotional conditions of their relationships.”[102]Coombes, B., Johnson, J. T., & Howitt, R. (2014). Indigenous geographies III: Methodological innovation and the unsettling of participatory research. Progress in Human Geography, 38(6), 845-854. Accordingly, the compass invites participants to consider three mediating factors: materiality, affect, and power (Figure 4), which further complicate the questions generated, and within a process of co-production mediate what is mapped, how, and by whom. The experiences of participants within both physical and social space are almost entirely affective, but can also depend on material interactions, or how power shapes their ability and to what degree to interact with a space and to have their intended experience. For example, the possibilities for young people and other community members of Medellin, Colombia, to secure affective gains from the dominance of authorities and elites, were determined by flexibilities in pre-existing rules about how certain public spaces could be used, these enforced through fear and violence [103]Hayes-Conroy, A., Saenz Montoya, A., Croog, R., & Munoz, F. (2020). Not quite quiet, not quite encroachment: Interrogating the political nature of urban subaltern community engagement in … Continue reading

    A “5D ecological” lens, further refined by considerations of the material, affective, and political, might illuminate and articulate the relationships between seemingly benign cultural activities and the logics of subversion embedded in their practice, especially where situated both spatially and temporally, with respect to the tumultuous political climate of Colombia over the past several decades. 

    Preferences for development are also highly affective, but considered through a political lens might reveal how power forecloses the possibility of implementation. The materiality of the space has a significant influence on what’s possible in either/any case. Landscape values, similarly, are affective, but also shaped by the material features of the space, while power informs the lens through which landscape values are formed, such as whether the relationship with the land is extractive, transactional, or regenerative.

    Figure 4: The 5D Ecological Compass, as mediated by materiality, affect, and power

    None of the three mediating factors can be considered in isolation, as they are not only mutually constitutive, but additive. Power + Materiality invokes physical barriers or facilitators within the relationship between subject and a given space-time, while Power + Affect is psychological, with past or existing power dynamics influencing perceptions of what happened or what is possible. Materiality + Affect filters the emotional experience of the physical space. All three together represent a totality of experience and relationship dynamics. 

    For the residents of the Indonesian kampungs (informal settlements) discussed by Renzi[104]Renzi, A. (2017) “Entangled Data: Modelling and Resistance in the Megacity,” Open! Platform for Arts, Culture and the Public Domain. T/A/S Issue. … Continue reading, the individual subjective experience of the city model invokes at once the physical/material relationship between the settlements and the city which would displace them, the residents’ affective relationship to both the landscape and the experience of displacement, and the power dynamics which govern the entire process. The practice of counter-modelling might be enhanced through an inquiry which situates the subjectivity of the kampung in relation to the broader landscape, present, past, and future, and with explicit consideration for material, affective, and political dimensions.

    Another layer of the inquiry comes with respect to scale: with “near” and “distant” referring to size of the spatial, temporal, or social context within which the inquiry is conducted (Figure 5). For example, when considering what a given space “used to be”, the “near”  would be bound temporally by the living memory of the community — such as Colombians collective memory of political repression — and spatially within the local neighborhood, while the “distant” might look at change over seven generations, as recorded by centuries of oral tradition, or even over the course of geological time, and across a much wider area, such as a watershed or bioregion. The smallest scale is the self: a participant situating themselves as the subject on the compass can consider their relationship to their own body, past, present, what they want or imagine for the future, and how that’s mediated by power, affect, and materiality.

    Figure 5: The 5D Ecological Compass, with considerations for spatial and temporal scale

    Taken together, considerations of the relationships between subjectivities, space, time, and community, as mediated by power, affect, and materiality, across different scales, creates the scaffolding for rich and ongoing community inquiry. All of these questions can be filtered by materiality, affect, and power, across multiple spatial and temporal scales (Figure 6), recognizing that the “political” has various interpretations through active and passive resistance; the small scale, hyperlocal, and individual material gains of quiet encroachment versus the affective and “convocational” gains of the youth in Medellin. In Indonesia, where drones are used to settle spatial conflicts, leading to material and affective gains, the exchanges between parties are still subject to the whims of the state. This differs from “state politics”, as such, which take place on a much larger scale, while simultaneously effecting little material change in people’s lives, and as a result failing to penetrate the affective layer, which in turn can manifest in political disillusionment, disengagement, or apathy.

    Figure 6: The 5D Ecological Compass, with all trajectories, complications, and mediations across different lines of inquiry, at different spatiotemporal scales. The blue and red polygons represent the plotting of different points of inquiry in both social and environmental space.

    Where researchers engage in a participatory process with presumptions about what participants know, and/or what purpose their knowledge will serve[105]Brown, G., & Kyttä, M. (2014). Key issues and research priorities for public participation GIS (PPGIS): A synthesis based on empirical research. Applied geography, 46, 122-136., it forms the basis for an extractive relationship and forecloses upon what Collectivo Situaciones refers to as the plenitude. The 5D ecological compass does not presume anything about the kinds of information it will produce, and does not have a fixed agenda, for the very fact that it is designed to generate participants’ own questions. People have near infinite capacity to engage with a process prompted by their own inquiry, rather than that of some outsider researcher or even activist. The compass, then, is a tool — one with an embedded logic for certain — but one that does not exclude any possibility for how it might be used. Ultimately the goal of the compass is to get at how space might be co-produced in such a way as to address the problems and enhance the assets revealed through the collective thought process.

    Conclusion

    Research has been implicated in, and constitutive of the imperial-colonial project, transforming people, environments, and living systems into objects — targets or recipients of the research action — rather than agents with their own subjectivity. Participatory methods, from participatory mapping and participatory action research to conricerca and militant research, have contested this relationship, even if they are not always successful in overturning it. With respect to planning, and with wider applications besides — such as academic research, schooling, and activism — Arnstein’s ladder of participation offers a framework for understanding the spectrum of research activities between manipulation and citizen control, and in parallel, it reveals a spectrum of community agency, from exploitation (no agency) to self-determination (maximum agency). 

    The objective of this essay has been to explicate various participatory epistemologies, and their merits and pitfalls with respect to activating the subjectivity of would-be research objects. Challenges abound, from the perspective and positionality of external actors, to technical and financial barriers to accessing methods and tools, to an underlying sense of cynicism toward people, their capabilities, and the value of actions they take on their own behalf. This cynicism forecloses upon the innumerable possibilities of the plenitude — the many ways people exercise their own agency and assert their own autonomy, from quiet encroachment to subversive expression to active organization. It is this cynicism, perhaps above all, that taints the possibilities of participatory research. Autonomy and self-determination are etymologically linked and share a common basis in radical subjectivity. Research that denies this subjectivity can only ever uphold embedded relations of domination, regardless of the best intentions of the researcher (or activist). 

    The role of the external researcher committed to a truly participatory process — to effect a shift in power relations — is one of providing access to methods, tools, technologies, resources, and availing themselves and their expertise to projects emerging from the interests, concerns, needs of a community. This is a matter of reconciling standpoint epistemology with the expertise of the external researcher, who for the inherent value of diverse perspectives always has something to contribute to the community project. It requires both an acknowledgment of the researcher’s positionality, and an ongoing process of self-reflection and transparency with respect to their own motivations and how they align — or don’t — with the desires of the community.

    My intention in creating the 5D Ecological Compass, as both a framework and a tool, is to help make visible and legible the relationships between people and with their environment, as mediated by power, affect, and materiality, and at different spatial and temporal scales: individuals and communities, neighborhoods and cities, past, present, and in the future. It is these relationships which, in turn, inform the research or activist project. The external researcher can then leverage their expertise and access to tools and resources in ways the community deems meaningful and relevant. Where both the means and the ends are determined by the community itself, the project is resistant to external impositions. 

    Independent of my own political trajectory and momentum, toward the ideals of autonomy, self-determination — and through these, liberation — how, whether or not, and to what extent the compass is used by anyone is up to them. I offer it up in hopes that it can effect a transformation of power relations and enable a true co-production of physical and social space.

    Notes & References[+]
  • The Dangerous Delusions of Self-Directed Education

    The Dangerous Delusions of Self-Directed Education

    Half the work of abolition is dismantling existing structures and systems — slavery, prisons, schools, the state itself — while the other half is about building something to replace them. As a school abolitionist, I find common ground with all sorts of ideologues, from unschoolers to community educators to the keepers and preservers of indigenous knowledge.

    Because I recognize the purpose of schools as engines of reproduction, my focus is less on institutions themselves than on a reorganization of society which prioritizes the needs of people over the accumulation of capital, which works with rather than extracting from the natural world, and which enables us to be in right relationship to each other.

    This represents a critical divergence point between school abolition and the countless flavors of education reform, even those claiming a liberatory intent. One of these is “self-directed education“, which in spite of its recognition of the predations of schooling, offers little substance to replace the school models we agree should be abandoned. For the purposes of this essay, I will use “self-directed education” when discussing the practice, and “SDE” to refer to the so-called “movement” emerging from it.

    I agree that young people should have choice and agency within their educational experience, but there is a simple truth that humans often take for granted, particularly those in Western societies in their preoccupation with individualism and “personal liberty”. Which is that we are meme machines, predisposed to copying, remixing, adapting what we learn from others. This means “self-direction” does not happen in a vacuum, that whatever young people choose, whatever their interests, these are each informed by their social and environmental contexts, and most often by their parents.

    My primary point of contention with SDE has been my understanding that without explicit intervention by people (these need not always be adults) with more knowledge/experience of the world (and with that possibilities outside of existing systems), self-directed young people stand to inherit the ideologies, values, practices of the wider world. It is clear to me that they will not self-direct themselves to alternatives to capitalism, white supremacy, colonialism, because they have no frames of reference. Nor, for that matter, do most adults in our society. 

    An additional issue has to do with the creation of the child as a discrete class of people, as sites of social reproduction, rather than as contributing members of the family and society. Black “emancipation” and child labor laws created an imperative amongst the ruling elite for everyone else’s children to be “schooled”, interpellated into a subordinate position in relationship to capital — that is the owners’ capital accumulation. 

    In our “free” society, schooling became a replacement for the development of material and social skills young people once learned in community, through apprenticeship, through experience with the natural world. In order to maintain schooling as an institution, these young people’s needs are provided for by parents, by the state, other external agents, and further mediated by the mechanisms of production (i.e. the supply chain). This allows young people, especially the racially and/or economically privileged young people overrepresented in SDE spaces, to exist in a bubble wherein they can choose — or “self-direct” into — activities far removed from what’s essential to their survival. 

    When I contemplate the ideal of children with agency, as equal members of families, communities, society, I recall the story of Binoojiinh, a Michi Saagig Nishnaabeg child, as told by Leanne Simpson in her book As We Have Always Done.

    In the story, Binoojiinh is tasked with collecting firewood for the family. Along the way, their natural curiosity leads them to discover the technique for tapping maple syrup, not by “self-direction”, but by learning from an expert — in this case, a squirrel, who they recognize as a member of their family. When they struggle to reproduce the technique, it is the belief and support of their family which encourages them to persist. At no time during Binoojiinh’s story, do they learn in isolation, or in ways external to their relationship and responsibility to family, community, and the land. The skill they ultimately acquire is not merely a passing interest, but of immediate material benefit.

    I am moved and inspired by the idea of learning taking place organically, as the experience of living, in right relationship to family, land, community, and the planet. However, within a capitalist society, the mechanisms of production — also the mechanisms of extraction and exploitation — mediate a young person’s ability to learn in such ways.

    Just as capitalism obscures the means and modes of production that provide for young people’s needs, so too is their impact on, their power within, and their responsibility for people and the planet, hidden from sight. When presented with the “choice” of whether to merely continue to “play”, or to build the skills and capacities for being active participants and contributors to community, they will almost always choose the former, because of how their privilege insulates them from the necessity of the latter.

    That is, until such a time as those external mechanisms break down — as in the case of global pandemics, climate change, warfare, mass immigration, political turmoil enough to destabilize the state altogether. For the socially and economically privileged, these possibilities seem distant, and indeed they may be amongst the last to feel the impacts. 

    Meanwhile, poor, working class, Black, Brown, Indigenous — often operate purely in survival mode, because they don’t have the luxury of “self-direction”, a reality made clear to them by their proximity to collapse — due to manufactured scarcity, environmental racism, displacement, state violence. And yet these young people are no better prepared, because the precariousness of their daily lives forces them to hew closely to systems which barely and only intermittently provide for them, and because schools only prepare them to reproduce the same. 

    While there is value in refusing to participate in such a coercive institution as the school, there’s an old saying that you can’t be neutral on a moving train. Abolition implies both destruction and creation. While SDE offers an alternative to schooling, it presents no legitimate challenge to the broader society and the systems which schools reproduce, nor does it offer young people any of the skills, tools, or knowledges required to create something better.

    SDE advocates cloak themselves in the trappings of liberation, using vague language which, like the fictional currency on which their delicate world depends, has no foundation or basis in material reality. They cherry-pick terms without fully grappling with the implications, or the enormous amount of work required. From the website for the “Alliance for Self-Directed Education”:

    The landscape of Self-Directed Education encompasses parenting, living, community-building, deschooling, decolonization, disruption – as practices toward youth liberation. When we say youth liberation, we are talking about the liberation of all young people. As young people take back their original freedom of self-direction, a commitment emerges not just to the abolition of coercive educational practices, but of all systems and ways of being that seek to demean, diminish, and oppress people.

    Decolonization? Abolition? Liberation? These words are merely co-opted as symbolic gestures — made in the abstract — toward the overlapping crises these same people will be last to experience. At the same time, its proponents invoke the identities of those most impacted, in a rhetorical nod to solidarity backed by none of the actual labor. SDE advocates claim to be a “movement”, yet offer young people and their families none of the actual tools or resources required for movement work. This makes SDE, as a “movement”, little more than a vanity project, and a dangerous one at that, for how it leaves room for the reproduction of the existing order under the pretense of liberatory practice.

    In reality, SDE is not so much a movement as an idle position occupied mostly by people contemplating and re-evaluating their relationship to school, while doing nothing to push back against the existing order — white supremacist, individualist, extractivist, exploitative, capitalist, imperialist —  five hundred years of sociopolitical inertia reinforced by a continuum of state violence. It is a fantasy, one that only certain people have the luxury of entertaining, and even then only temporarily, in the face of emergent and cascading crises.

  • North Philly Peace Park and the Continuum of Black Struggle

    North Philly Peace Park and the Continuum of Black Struggle

    A shorter version of this article was published by WHYY.

    It was in April of 2020 that I first heard about the North Philly Peace Park. The name came and went in a snatch of text conversation, but a convergence of life-changing circumstances would steer me back. The first was that the COVID-19 pandemic was starting to rage in Philly, calling into question mine and everyone’s relationship to work. The second was that over the previous few months, I had started dipping my toes into the Philly sustainability scene, feeling a calling to the work on a local level. And finally, the many inklings over the years that I wasn’t “cut out” to be a school teacher were starting to coalesce into a new identity as a school abolitionist. 

    For context, before I left the classroom for good in 2020, I had been teaching for eight years, and involved in other forms of education for the better part of a decade before that. In spite of the intractable problems of schools, and their hardy resilience against half-baked neoliberal reforms, I genuinely believed for most of my career that there was something we — or even I — could do as a teacher to improve the lived realities of my students. In my first semester of graduate school, I pondered the role of the teacher in an “education for liberation”. 

    In December 2019, I was in the midst of facilitating a Participatory Action Research (PAR) project with high school students, to investigate the local impacts of climate change, particularly with respect to community health. Looking into how it connected to the higher asthma rates for Black and Brown communities in Philadelphia, we learned about the urban heat island effect, and how historic disparities in health were drawn in red lines.

    We would later apply for a grant to transform our school courtyard into a community green space, as a means of mitigating the disparities in heat, air quality, and access to healthy food. A combination of the pandemic and the inevitable bureaucratic quagmire brought the project to a standstill — though perhaps only temporarily as conversations have recently started to pick up again.

    This was the start of my transition from school teacher to community educator and organizer, a journey that has allowed me to connect with so many incredible people and organizations throughout Philadelphia, in the orbit of land, food, and climate justice. Most significant of them all has been North Philly Peace Park. 

    If you aren’t familiar with the Peace Park, the gist is this: community members in the Sharswood neighborhood of North Philadelphia came together to clean up and restore health to a parcel of land, and convert it to a sustainable space for growing food and building community. They did not ask for “permission” from the owners — the Philadelphia Housing Authority — because no one should need permission to thrive. This early work set in motion a nine year struggle between the Park and PHA, for the very right to self-determination.

    It is a struggle that has always been rooted in control of the land, from Indigenous dispossession, through the displacement of Black farmers in the South, into the present where many battles are being waged over the question of land sovereignty. As explained by mixed media artist and scholar Li Sumpter, a member of the Peace Park design and education teams, “this idea of reclaiming space and reclaiming land, of ownership and agency have always been a part of the Peace Park strategy of community building”. 

    In August 2020, I was able to connect with Tommy Joshua, the founder and executive director of the Peace Park. We had a wide-ranging conversation about education, land, food, and Black self-determination. He invited me to join a newly forming education team, which would be working to formalize the more organic, ad hoc educational programming that the Peace Park had been conducting with local children for years. 

    On Saturday, May 15th, I joined North Philly Peace Park staff, volunteers, and Sharswood community members —  generations of Black people, from infants to elders — for the groundbreaking of the Sala Keturah STEM Pavilion: a stunning fusion of Afrofuturist aesthetic and sustainable design, which will serve as the centerpiece for a full-block ecocampus. 

    Design mockup for the Sala Keturah STEM Pavilion

    The pavilion is part of a larger project to model Black self-determination in Philadelphia through agriculture, design, education, wellness, and cooperative economics. Maya Thomas, lead planner in the building of the pavilion, sees the Peace Park as a case study, providing a pathway for Black communities like Sharswood to push back against gentrification. She says that where people feel helpless in the face of relentless redevelopment, the Peace Park offers a “competing ideal”, an alternative that genuinely meets the needs of the community.

    From the electric enthusiasm of the young people as they drilled their shovels into the earth, to Thomas’s tears of joy, it was clear that the event also represented the breaking of a tide, the crossing of a threshold from dreams to realization. The event was filled with joy and camaraderie, the Park vibrating with the creative energy and the will to see the dream fulfilled. 

    The theme of the groundbreaking ceremony was tracing the continuity of Black struggle, resistance, and resilience. Community elder Mama Gail guided the attendees in calling Black ancestors into the space, while also inviting us to dream the future into being. In the words of lead architect Nyasha Felder, the pavilion will “function as a time capsule, by retaining the cultural significance of place making through the lens of Black radical space.”

    Groundbreaking of the Sala Keturah Pavilion at North Philly Peace Park

    Fifty years ago, community activist, educator, and scholar John Elliott Churchville started the Freedom School on Ridge Avenue, a mere three blocks from North Philly Peace Park. His mission, from 1964 to 1978, was Black self-determination, which he recognized as incompatible with education provided by the State. Churchville honed his vision through the lens of revolutionary nationalism, an ideological current that finds one of its most coherent manifestations today in North Philly Peace Park. 

    Philly school teacher and Peace Park education team member Nzinga Hill wants to cultivate  “intellectually sound, spiritually grounded, culturally knowledgeable liberators”, that these young people need to be “uncompromising”, steeped in Black thought, Black struggle, and Black scholarship. It is a vision I share, having struggled myself with navigating predominantly white spaces, trying to glean some hint of what Black liberation might look like. Faced with an utter void in Western and white scholarship, I turned to the wisdom inherent in years of Black resistance, Indigenous struggle, each grounded in a care and respect for the Earth — working to synthesize what I’m calling a Red, Black, and Green ecology of learning. The Civil Rights and Black Power movements are always discussed in the past tense, but they should rather be understood as part of a continuum. Emblematic of that continuity, Dr. John Churchville himself was among the guests for the groundbreaking of the Sala Keturah Pavilion.

    Philly is a “city of neighborhoods”, really a city of blocks, such that we often aren’t aware of the greatness taking place right under our noses. There have been a few times out at the Park when I’ve been approached by local residents asking me what it’s all about. It was striking to me that even people who lived within walking distance were unaware of this vital space where they were free to harvest food directly from the land, or from the numerous food giveaways. This resourceful space where Black people were creating natural balms and tinctures, art, crafts, and other products, during monthly Green Wall Street gatherings. This magical space, where Black people were coming together for conversations about strategies, logistics, and the very contours of self-determination. This space which has become a convergence point for the ingenuity and creativity of so many people, from educators and activists to artists and architects, to beautiful Black children seeking a place to be their essential selves, wild and free. 

    Also. Y’all. Did I mention that there’s bee hives and a solar smart cube? 

    All the things that North Philly Peace Park is, and will become, are part of a continuum of collective dreaming, striving, and will toward self-determination: the heart of all Black struggle. The life of Black people in this country has always been defined by the tension between our demand for sovereignty, and the violent refusal by the State at every juncture to entertain the mere idea. From the murder of Octavius Catto, situated at the center of a relentless campaign of anti-Black violence against our attempts to vote, to the institutionalized violence of the police, carceral system and the courts, any whiff of Black mobility or agency is met with full-throttled resistance by the State and its proxies. 

    Reemerging into the public consciousness, due to revelations of the egregious violence toward Black people even after death, is the history of the MOVE organization, and the military-style campaign launched against them on May 13, 1985. It is the only example in U.S. history of a city government dropping a bomb on its own citizens. It is a story of police intervening against the fire department to facilitate the destruction of an entire city block, and shooting at people who tried to escape the flames. It is a story of grotesque violence, profane cruelty, and an utter contempt for Black life. 

    Pertinent here is what the MOVE organization was before this redefining incident, and what they have continued to be in the aftermath: a collective of Black people who chose to divest from white supremacist, patriarchal, ecologically devastating, capitalist system. Black people who chose to educate and care for their own children, rather than remanding them to state control. Black people who chose to eat and sustain themselves through their own labor, rather than the mediated exchange of the money economy. Black people who embodied self-determination. 

    And how did the state respond? With a bomb, and ten thousand bullets. Because the viability of our political and economic system depends on Black subordination. 

    North Philly Peace Park occupies the same continuum as MOVE, in the ongoing struggle for Black self-determination. The Park was also the victim of state violence, when the police raided the buildings they were renovating, under the false pretext of drug activity. While what happened at the Park was incommensurate in scale, historical impact, and the deep, reverberating trauma experienced by MOVE, it was a reminder of how any attempts by Black people to be self-determined will be met with fierce resistance by the state. 

    It was the strength and support of the Sharswood community which saw the Peace Park emerge on the other side in an even better position. The Park has since been given control over the land and buildings at the site, and the necessary permissions to move ahead with the construction of the pavilion — itself a representation of continuity, being inspired by the Oshun temples of Nigeria and the shotgun houses of the Black South.

    Felder says that even though there is much to learn from the past, “when it comes to responding to our current needs, we have to innovate, we have to create something for the now, and for the future.” The pavilion, adds Sumpter, will create a space for Black people “to design, to dream, as we see fit for our futures.”

    As I reflect on my own tumultuous journey from teacher to organizer, I realize it could’ve easily been derailed, and sent crashing into any number of dead ends, had it not passed through North Philly Peace Park. What I’m hoping to contribute to an already brilliant and dynamic project of Black self-determination is a framework emerging from my graduate research into the history of education, enclosure, and Black, Brown, and Indigenous resistance to state violence. In line with the values of the Park, which ground our work in land sovereignty, I imagine young people, elders, and everyone in between, learning, growing, and building together. 

    North Philly Peace Park represents a radical vision for Black self-determination, one that we hope can be replicated throughout the city.  In line with the very meaning of the word “radical”, our work starts at the roots — both literal and historical — tracing the continuity of Black struggle and Black resilience, to branch out toward countless possibilities for peaceful, thriving, self-determined Black futures. 

  • Net-Zero to Net-Positive: Toward a Real Education for Sustainability

    Net-Zero to Net-Positive: Toward a Real Education for Sustainability

    The following are my prepared remarks for the launch of the PHENND Sustainability network, on February 25th, 2021.

    A question I’ve always disliked when meeting people in professional or even casual spaces is: “What do you do?” Because where should I start? Like all of us, I wear many hats: I’m a graduate student, an orchard intern, an aspiring community educator, a writer, a life partner, a brother, son, and uncle, among other things. But the subtext of that question, of course, is “What do you do that has use or exchange value within our capitalist economy?”

    My answer to that is: “Who cares? And why do you even wanna know?” To me, and probably to many of us, that answer is far less important to our everyday lives. Why should my economic value be separate from my value to family or community?

    As a school teacher, I eventually came to the realization that what I was doing in the classroom was fundamentally disconnected from the material concerns of my students. Like many, I bought into the mythology of schooling as an investment into some undefined future, where all these “standards” and “competencies” would eventually “pay dividends”. The perennial question, “Mister, why we gotta learn this?” led to any number of contrived answers on my part, until eventually it became: “You don’t. It actually doesn’t matter at all.” This became especially clear at my last school, where students were forced to choose between coming to class or doing things that were more essential, like raising their own kids, caring for family, or working to survive.

    We attempted a participatory action research (PAR) project around the local impacts of climate change, and I was very intentional about helping students make connections to their lives here and now, rather than polar bears standing on shrinking ice caps hundreds of miles away, ten years from now. We made connections between redlining and urban heat islands, between disinvestment and environmental racism, between higher temperatures and increased asthma rates. Yet still, on a good day, I saw maybe 20% of my students. Not because they didn’t care, but because the system demanded they spend their time elsewhere, for more immediate returns on their labor.

    Sustainability can’t simply mean a “green” continuation of the current system — cleaner, more efficient ways to squeeze out just a bit more: labor, energy, resources, blood. It’s not enough to “reduce our carbon footprint” or get to “net zero”, some neutral zone where harm and repair cancel each other out. Our work needs to be net-positive: to be about healing, regeneration, reparations — of centuries of harm done to people, communities, and the planet — and replacing systems of oppression and extraction with collective lifeways that uplift and liberate all of us.

    This has to start with those who have borne the largest share of the burden: Indigenous, Black, Brown, and immigrant communities — dispossessed of land, exploited for labor, and forcefully situated at the nexus of environmental racism, state violence, and carceral control. And let’s not forget the poor white folx: ground up by the mechanisms of production and spit back out with chronic illnesses like black lung, or endemic hatred, for the very same people with whom they should find common cause.

    The moment demands a mass mobilization of people and collective will. Which means bridging gaps: in knowledge, resources, understanding, and empathy. In our conversations, and in our work around sustainability, we have to integrate those things which support and affirm our rights to healthy, dignified lives, so we even have the capacity to take on something so grandiose as “saving the planet”.

    As one concrete example, consider urban agriculture. Converting hardscape to food-bearing green spaces, as we see through the work of North Philly Peace Park, the Philadelphia Orchard Project, Urban Tree Connection, and others, tackles several problems at once: 1) mitigating the heat island effect, 2) absorbing excess groundwater and cleansing watersheds, 3) improving air quality, 4) capturing carbon, and saving the most obvious for last: 5) feeding hungry people — here in the “poorest big city in America”.

    Last count, Philly has around 40,000 vacant lots. How much additional acreage controlled by universities — ever more gobbled up through gentrification and the false promise of “opportunity zones” — could be committed to projects that restore people and planet? Imagine the opportunities for real, life-affirming education, jobs, and food, at a time where access to all three have been severely crippled by the COVID-19 pandemic.

    I don’t want a student to ever again ask me “Why we gotta learn this?” Because I am determined that any work we do, and whatever we’re learning together, be firmly intertwined with the experience of prosperous living. Not just for ourselves, but for our communities and the environments in which we’re all situated. Not just in the moment, or in the short term, but forever.

    This, to me, is real “education for sustainability”.

  • One Educator’s Journey to Personal and Collective Liberation

    One Educator’s Journey to Personal and Collective Liberation

    At the end of last year, I published an article in the journal Transcontinental Human Trajectories, my first “official” publication. It is mostly a personal narrative — and I do mean personal —  but it also lays out much of my educational philosophy, and sketches my initial trajectory from a school teacher to more of an activist. Although I didn’t use the term “school abolitionist” at the time, you can see the first inklings of that identity starting to crystallize. The abstract is below, and you can click here to read the full article.

    In this personal essay, I discuss how shifts in my positionality as an educator changed the dynamics of power between me and my students, how the threshold between informal education and the School marked a clear delineation of power that placed us on opposite sides. My journey as an educator paralleled my personal journey as a Black man in the United States, during which I had to navigate the troubled intersection between race and disability. Along the way I became aware of a “potential-realization gap” — internalized as a hovering sense of inadequacy, and externalized as a deep disillusionment with people and the world.

    Where once race had operated on my consciousness from the margins, certain experiences forced me to contend with my identity in ways I had been able to avoid before, in part due to a stark divide between mind and body. With racial consciousness came indignation, manifest in my orientation as a teacher activist, and which I imposed upon my students as the imperative for their — but not my own — liberation. Wading through toxic environments, spaces of collective trauma and bureaucratic rot, any attempts to make change were usually met with fierce resistance.

    This disconnect, between mind and body, theory and praxis, school and community, reality and my ideals — exacerbated by racial trauma and ADHD — tore a jagged fissure through my career. Lost in all of this were the young people I was ostensibly fighting for, yet for so long failed to recognize as agents in their own liberation. I had sought in vain the pedagogical method, the repositioning, the creative freedom — something — that would allow me to reconcile the disparities.

    But it wasn’t until I approached the decision to leave schools in favor of community education, that I discovered participatory action research (PAR), and with it the need to ground my own work, and that of my charges, in identity, history, shared struggle, and building community. In PAR, I discovered the possibility for collective liberation — a means for bridging the gap within myself, and between myself and the communities I serve.

  • New Perspectives, Same Voices: The Echo Chamber of Education Reform

    New Perspectives, Same Voices: The Echo Chamber of Education Reform

    (This was originally an email which I sent to Civic Ventures, a political advocacy group (think tank?) based in Seattle, which also produces the Pitchfork Economics podcast. Because it got so long, and because it reflects my general thinking on education, I decided to post it here.)

    Hello,

    My name is Kermit O, and I’m an educator in Philadelphia, as well as an avid listener of the podcast. The recent episode with Diane Ravitch was extremely important, as was Nick’s article in the Atlantic. I immediately thought: everyone needs to hear/read this – and you can bet it will come up in my next staff PD.

    Pitchfork Economics: Educationism (with Diane Ravitch)
    August 6th, 2019

    But then I thought, who’s really gonna hear or read these things? Certainly the fact that it was tweeted by Barack Obama will expand its reach, but generally it will still be people, like me, who are already attuned to the impact of income inequality on everything, people already primed to have these conversations.

    I know Civic Ventures does work on the policy side of things, but what I kept hearing, implicitly, was that it was up to “woke” wealthy people like Nick, and their wealthy or politically connected circles to fix the problem. What, I wondered, is even my role as a teacher, if schools aren’t really the issue? What do you see as the role of my students, their families, other teachers, and community advocates? To hold some line while other people work toward solutions?

    Well, of course not. It seemed to me that if ultimately we’re advocating for a fair and just democracy, then the best thing I could do would be to civically engage and activate my students to advocate on their own behalf. But before that, because my students come from poverty and trauma, to be a reliable, safe adult in whom they can confide, who provides some stability which may be in short supply, who encourages them that they are more than their circumstances. Not in a “bootstraps” way – but by helping them to understand the systems that obstruct every path toward their liberation.

    I am lucky, because this Fall I will be at a school where I have the freedom to steer my curriculum toward that end. The neoliberal “data driven” model in most public schools doesn’t allow that. Having worked in those kinds of schools most of my career, I have learned firsthand what happens to teachers who push back against that system. I’ve been both with and without Union protection and seen ferocious backlash.

    Soon after I listened to the Ravitch episode, I started reading this book:

    This passage, from early in the book, connected me back to the point Nick and Ravitch were making:

    Schools reflect our political economy. The fact that schools are funded by local property taxes ensures that students who live in poor communities receive an education that will maintain, and, in fact, widen the gap between the über-rich, the rich, the rapidly shrinking middle class, the working poor, and the poor. This system renders schools ineffective in providing poor students any type of real social mobility. (Love, p. 17)

    This in turn made me think about how it was Diane Ravitch on the podcast and not Dr. Love, and what that meant. Kudos to Ravitch – and Nick – for recognizing their decades of misguided thinking. I mean that sincerely.

    But that whole time, there were other voices, on the margins of academia and the political sphere – pushed there by the relentless power of the status quo and those who uphold it – who were already making the case Nick and Diane only just came to understand. There were teachers who understood it, even if they didn’t have the vocabulary or the platform to make the case, or if they did, were quickly buried by the neoliberal demands of the system and punished for noncompliance.

    Why do we keep hearing from the same people? Why do we have to wait for the wealthy or elite or well-connected to have a change of heart, and then promote them, they who did so much of the damage, rather than finally giving a platform to those who had been sounding the alarm for years? Those who had been working *against* the abuses of the neoliberal establishment?

    When 2020 Democratic Presidential candidates are writing their education platforms, who are they consulting? People like Ravitch, no doubt. While that’s better than an Arne Duncan or Michelle Rhee, it keeps on the margins those important voices, who have spent the past decades advancing the position the “Reformed Reformers” have only recently embraced, adding to it much nuance, practical experience, research, and vital intersectional perspectives. The “right people” just aren’t in the room when these platforms are being designed, which is why progress is slow to nonexistent. 

    So I come back to the question in my subject line, for you all at Civic Ventures. Who is your audience? And who do you hope to impact? If the latter is much larger than the former, what does that mean? To me, it reflects the thinking that only the well-connected or well informed few will have a seat at the table where the decisions are made. Which I feel is antithetical to any serious push for democracy.

    Where does this thinking leave me, as a solitary educator? Now, to be clear, I am not idle or isolated. I am active within the “radical wing” of the teacher’s union, where we advance positions that look at the bigger picture, and argue from a baseline of racial/social/economic justice. But this often means battling against our own, the deeply entrenched status quo upholding “mainstream”, who prioritize our pay and benefits – important, yes – but at the expense of everything else we know is important.

    It leaves me trying to equip my students with the knowledge and skills to fight a morally bankrupt system. But I feel like these different efforts play out in well-insulated silos. What would happen if policy makers and influencers were aligned and in close communication with those of us “on the ground”?

    What would happen if Pitchfork Economics had Dr. Bettina Love as a guest rather than Diane Ravitch? What would happen if Civic Ventures had even one black face on the team – someone like Jesse Hagopian right there in Seattle – who works from a racial justice perspective?

    What would happen if Nick interviewed with The Breakfast Club, where his message would be heard by more of the people you all seek to impact? There he would also be relentlessly scrutinized by people like Charlamagne, Envy, or Yee, who are going to ask the sorts of questions regular people might have, if only to clarify some of the more opaque aspects of economics discourse. They might critique Nick’s position from an angle he may not have considered, because he literally does not have access to it as a wealthy white man. If this seems far-fetched, or unworthy of Nick’s time, ask why people like Bernie Sanders, Kamala Harris, and Andrew Yang have seen fit to appear on the program.

    Again, who is the podcast for? And is that audience truly the best positioned to bring about the change we need?

  • Black Mandarin: Critical Speculations on Language and Power

    Black Mandarin: Critical Speculations on Language and Power

    I was in a writer’s group meeting, critiquing the work of a fellow member, whose sci-fi novel-in-progress takes place some 100+ years in the future, where the U.S. no longer exists as such, though its legacy is still apparent. One of his main characters is a black woman, and for the mere fact that the writer is a white man, I have been particularly scrutinizing of how he depicts her. Artistic license means he can write her however he wants, but it’s been my goal to encourage him to draw from the actual experiences of black women projected into this imaginary future. After all, it is easy enough to create a phenotypic black woman and instill her with a white American affectation, which in sci-fi, as in reality, often reflects a veritable absence of culture.

    In this future world, the writer explained, black people adopted Latin and Greek as second languages, after some academic initiative to teach inner city students the so-called “Classics”. I immediately objected on a number of grounds. First and foremost, it sounded like presumably white educators swooped down into the hood to offer black students the “gift” of their superior wisdom, which as in so many white savior fantasies completely robs black people of their agency. Having gotten to know this writer and his intentions in casting a black protagonist, I realized he merely did not see this theme for what it was, as probably most creators of white savior fantasies do not. He accepted the critique gracefully.

    Scene from the film “Freedom Writers”

    My second objection was to the choice of Latin and Greek as some medium for revolutionary literacy. One dead language, the other very localized, regardless of their significance to Western intellectual heritage, struck me as extremely impractical choices. This was especially jarring because black people in the U.S. tend to be, as a matter of necessity, a matter of survival, extremely pragmatic. Such an initiative, therefore, could’ve only been spearheaded by white people—well meaning white liberals, no doubt—which only reinforced my grievance around the lack of black agency.

    My third objection came from my ideological position as an educator, feeling that both curriculum and content must be culturally relevant in order to be effective. In an imagined future world, why couldn’t it be Swahili, or any of the hundreds of other languages from Africa? Then I thought, coming back to black Americans’ severe practicality, the more obvious choice would be Mandarin. Because it is the language of nearly one-sixth of the entire world’s population, and the most widely spoken language on the planet—yes, more than both English and Spanish. Because it will inevitably become the next “globish” of international communication.

    I thought of Black-Asian-American cultural conclaves, an exchange of language, culture, and ideas catching fire in Chinatowns across the country. I thought of black people, anticipating the full emergence of China as a dominant power, learning Mandarin as a means of better positioning themselves in a rapidly changing world, and giving themselves an essential tool of subversion against the next hierarchy that would see them remain at the bottom. I thought of black people manipulating Mandarin as they have English, code-switching between the traditional language and radical new permutations, both as a tactic of subversion, and because that’s just how we do.

    Agency. Pragmatism. And for those, plausibility.

    The other group members echoed each other that this idea was material for a story in its own right. I was inclined to agree, except that being so sharply focused on my current novel, I don’t really have the mental space to write that story. But something else soon occurred to me. That black people learning Mandarin en masse is indeed a story worth creating. Not in print, or digitally, but rendered unto reality.

    As of now, Mandarin is not offered in most schools in the US—public or private—which suggests a rather glaring lack of foresight, or a disconnect between education and the state of world affairs. But education, when delivered well, has revolutionary potential. Were black students—regularly underserved, miseducated, deprived of resources and quality instructors, struggling daily against white supremacy, told implicitly and explicitly that their lives don’t matter, succumbing to stereotype threat, and for all these reasons consistently marked as under-performers by the skewed and inherently racist metrics of “achievement”—to be placed on the cutting edge, picking up Mandarin as a second (or third after Black Vernacular English) language, they might for once be poised to have a social advantage. It would be a strategic and highly practical long-term investment into these students’ future, and thereby the future of communities of color as a whole.

    The economic benefits would be obvious, as China is the largest and one of the fastest growing economies on the world stage. But as revolutionary action mandates thinking outside of a market-centric model, Mandarin would not be taught just to enable black students to better navigate existing systems, but as I suggested earlier, to subvert them. I envision this new generation of black students speaking perfect Mandarin only to receive blank stares in return, communication blocked not by a language barrier, but a color barrier. Because fluency in the new language of power would not suddenly erase the anti-black racism running rampant worldwide—in few places as virulently as in China—the teaching of Mandarin would need to be coupled with explicit anti-capitalist ideals. It stands to reason that as China’s influence spreads, this anti-blackness current—with no significant counter—will only be reinforced. Much like the changing languages of the colonial masters did little to affect the status of enslaved Africans throughout the Americas, black people have no reason to assume that the rise of China signals any change in status for us.

    A black boy being objectified in China for his skin and hair

    Beyond allowing black people to have more mobility within a new power structure, fluency in Mandarin would serve the perhaps even more important purpose of allowing us to spread our own influence. Our revolutionary spirit, historically maligned, placated, or stamped out as a matter of policy, writ large to resonate with people around the world, much like hip-hop has become symbolic of resistance in places as disparate as Japan and Palestine. And speaking of music, imagine a new generation of Jazz, Blues, Hip-hop, Soul, weaving rhythmically back and forth between English and Chinese, amplifying our collective voice and creative genius. A proliferation of Black culture by our own hand, rather than through appropriation. Authentic global presence that would immediately render the harmful media misrepresentations—including the blackface minstrelsy that is all the rage around the world (especially in Asia)—obsolete, and out of touch with the new reality.

    Blackface on South Korean Television

    Right now this idea falls in the category of speculative fiction, if only just, because I personally do not have the resources, influence, logistical knowledge, or financial means—nevermind zero aptitude in Mandarin—to see it realized. Still, it is conceivable that such an initiative could be started, preferably on a local, community level first, rather than top-down from the Department of Education—or worse, the private sector.

    As a speculative fiction writer, my realm of possibility is probably greater than most, but what do you think? Would teaching Mandarin to black kids improve their social, economic, and political prospects as they become adults in a world increasingly influenced by China? Or is it merely the stuff of hopeless idealism, with no plausible real world application?