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In Short

The Myth of Everybody

This piece originally appeared on Medium on July 31, 2014. .

Cities have the capacity of providing something for everybody, only because, and only when, they are created by everybody.
鈥擩ane Jacobs

 

What is the difference between 鈥渨ith鈥 and 鈥渇or鈥?

鈥淲ith鈥 implies togetherness, a network: a larger group, possibly, a messier group, but a group (meaning 2 people+) nonetheless. Acting 鈥渨ith鈥 others implies certain degrees of collaboration, collective action, coordination, and even unity. You run a three-legged race with your partner (or you鈥檙e going to fall). When you use the word 鈥渨ith鈥 it means that, however many people are involved, whatever their individual roles, they鈥檙e acting as one鈥娾斺妎r at least, towards a shared goal.

By contrast, when we use the word 鈥渇or鈥 we center on the experience of individuals in a relationship, with one unit acting on behalf of or doing something to another. (鈥For another.鈥) In the 鈥渇or鈥 universe, there鈥檚 usually a receiver and a giver. There can be many people involved or few, but there are almost always actors and those acted upon. In a democracy like ours, where we have government of, by, and for the people, we understand that when we vote for an elected representative, they are then empowered to speak and act for us. To govern for 耻蝉鈥.产耻迟&苍产蝉辫;with our consent.

Representative democracy in action.

At least, that鈥檚 the way it鈥檚 described in textbooks. In reality, however, governance is awash with intermediaries: companies, contractors, public/private partnerships, lobbyists, NGOs, think tanks鈥娾斺妎rganizations of people, formal and informal, that support, distribute, and sometimes do the work of our government for our government and for us. This (very simplified overview of our) system of proxies isn鈥檛 necessarily good or bad; it鈥檚 just the way we鈥檝e structured things to work in the US.

Why? Well, because we govern in a 鈥渇or鈥 system. Because there are so many of us and our lives are interconnected. Because we balance majority rule with minority rights. Because of all the reasons you learned in social studies class (if you went to a US public high school) and because this is the way most of us believes society has to work.

But there are other ways.

鈥 Take your hand off the 鈥淐OMMUNIST鈥 alarm. I鈥檓 talking about the 鈥渃ivic鈥 revolution.

In the last 6 or so years, as the buzz around 鈥淕ov2.0鈥 waned, obsession with 鈥渃ivic鈥-ness waxed. What 鈥渃ivic鈥 means exactly, well, we鈥檙e all still figuring that out. Sure, there are official definitions that relate 鈥渃ivic鈥 to all things local鈥nd overlapping understandings of 鈥渃ivics鈥 that lend the air of government involvement鈥ut with increasing interest from folks in the tech and innovation sectors (and funders), the word has taken on new shape. Today, 鈥渃ivic鈥 is the center of a Venn Diagram encircling notions commonly associated with 鈥渟ociety,鈥 鈥渃ommunity,鈥 鈥済overnance,鈥 and public commons (or goods). The sheen of social impact, social responsibility, and 鈥渃ommunity-ness鈥濃娾斺妕hat鈥檚 what terms of art like 鈥渃ivic innovation,鈥 鈥渃ivic engagement,鈥 鈥渃ivic decisions,鈥 鈥渃ivic participation鈥, and 鈥渃ivic tech鈥 are all trying to describe.

To be clear, it鈥檚 not that this intersection of societal something hasn鈥檛 been outlined before: language like 鈥渟ocial鈥 (see 鈥渟ocial innovation鈥) and civil (see 鈥渃ivil society鈥) has been used to describe similar concepts for decades. 鈥淐ivic鈥 is just the newest coat of paint, its popularity driven in part by interest from NGOs, start-ups, digital strategists, and governing bodies attempting to bring new flavor and energy to long-standing questions, like

How can we make democracy work? What can we do to make the systems in place work better? And what do we need to change to make systems work betterfor everybody?

The thing is, it鈥檚 sort of working. 鈥淐ivic hacking鈥 has brought excitement to folks who once felt apathetic or disengaged from governance and empowered them to engage with these questions. 鈥淐ivic innovation鈥 has pulled entrepreneurs and governments into rethinking service delivery (鈥渇or everyone鈥) with an techno-optimism that鈥檚 to be admired. And 鈥渃ivic participation鈥 has made way for the exploration of community-driven processes like participatory budgeting, opening the door to a new vision of constituent collaboration.

Where 鈥渆verybody鈥 once felt like a burden of democratic reform, now it feels like an opportunity. The power of technology is (theoretically) that we can design processes to serve everybody. We civic-minded technologists, we wield everyday tools like smartphones and laptops and with them, we can lift up communities long separated from the system meant to support them. We can make the system work better for everyone.

Do you spot the problem yet?

It鈥檚 鈥渇or.鈥

鈥淔or鈥 is the thorn in the paw of the 鈥渃ivic鈥 movement today. We espouse to build new, collaborative systems, new technologies, new relationships with government, but we do so wielding old systems of power.

Outside of elections, when was the last time there was energy around the idea of person-to-person collaboration at scale (small or big) for improving our political system? When was the last time there was an element of positivity to it鈥娾斺奱 feeling not of obligation or desperation or hopelessness, but of unbounded possibility?

That鈥檚 what the 鈥渃ivic folks鈥 (me, too!) bring to the table. We believe that in this time of technological revolution social change is possible. We can help government to increase effectiveness, efficiency, transparency, and representation. We can help make things work differently, taking advantage of the tools available to reimagine processes long stagnant. And we believe that we can only do this if we work together: if we fork each other鈥檚 code, ground ourselves in communities, work with our governments, and bring more people to the table to help.

But there is a substantial difference between this notion of 鈥渨orking together鈥 and working 鈥渇or everybody.鈥

Working together means working 鈥渨ith鈥 each other. It requires legwork for outreach and meaningful inclusion in dialogue, tech development, process input, and (political/technical) system design. It requires a deep bench of talent and it requires the recognition that in the wired world of 2014, people do not fall purely into 鈥渢echnical鈥 or 鈥渘on-technical鈥 buckets, but rather possess a multitude of equally valuable skills, knowledges, and expertise.

Working together also requires shaking up the ground on which we hold court. (Is your civic hack night held where you work or in a public transport accessible, geographic/cultural center in your community? Are you meeting during the weekday dinner-time or Saturday mornings?) It means being thoughtful about the language used (don鈥檛 dumb down, but don鈥檛 buzzword up), thinking about social norms once taken for granted (ever laughed at the idea of a code of conduct? why?), and sometimes hearing that you鈥檙e wrong鈥娾斺妕hat a project you love doesn鈥檛 resonate, that the tool chosen was the wrong one, that the messaging doesn鈥檛 work outside of a particular context, that despite bringing a ton of seats to the table, you鈥檙e going to need to make room for more.

Remember, most of our experience exists in a 鈥渇or鈥 system. We might tell ourselves the myth of 鈥渨ith鈥 as a way of explaining what democracy means, but very rarely do we enable (let alone create!) systems that wield 鈥渨orking together鈥 as central to their function.

The 鈥渃ivic鈥 revolution could be that enabler. Sure, there will be times when working with everyone (like, everyone everyone) isn鈥檛 practical, but envisioning the snag shouldn鈥檛 prevent us from trying. Why model the old power structure we鈥檝e convinced ourselves that we can change? If the civic space portends to be the intermediary that will (help) develop systems of collaborative governance from the intersection where communities and technologies collide, let鈥檚 make good on that vision and try our hardest to realize it to its fullest potential.

Working together is the essence of the 鈥渃ommunity-ness鈥 that civic initiatives seek to define and amplify. We can choose to make that 鈥渃ommunity鈥 part meaningful, a way of describing actual individuals with actual interests who can actually contribute substantially to the innovations and processes that will reshape what governance means. Or we can choose to keep the status quo, to treat 鈥渃ommunity鈥 as a description of the theoretical beneficiary of the work that we鈥檒l create on our own toward this end; a marker of the progress we鈥檒l make for everyone.

Unity or obscurity. You decide.

This piece was written in response to a recent Medium post on , which called for the following manifesto:

Whether in the context of an event, a new project, or something else all together, when it comes to civic technology, .

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Laurenellen McCann

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The Myth of Everybody