Tag Archives: civic literacy

Announcement–and Invitation

Anyone who regularly reads this blog knows that I’m more or less obsessed by what Americans–ordinary citizens and elected officials alike–don’t know about our nation’s history, founding documents and legal system.

To reiterate my thesis: In a country where, increasingly, people read different books and newspapers, visit different blogs, watch different television programs, attend different churches and even speak different languages—where the information and beliefs we all share are diminishing and our variety and diversity are growing—it is more important than ever that Americans understand their history and their governing philosophy.

Our constitutional values are a covenant; they are ultimately all that Americans have in common.

All governments are human enterprises, and like all human enterprises, they will have their ups and downs. In the United States, however, the consequences of the “down” periods are potentially more serious than in more homogeneous nations, precisely because this is a country based upon covenant, upon what I have elsewhere called the American Idea. Americans do not share a single ethnicity, religion or race. Culture warriors to the contrary, we never have. We don’t share a comprehensive worldview. What we do share is a set of values, and when we don’t know what those values are or where they came from, we lose a critical part of what it is that makes us Americans.

At the end of the day, our public policies must be aligned with and supportive of our most fundamental values; the people we elect must demonstrate that they understand, respect and live up to those values; and the electorate has to be sufficiently knowledgeable about those values to hold public officials accountable.

To put it another way, our ability to trust one another and work together ultimately depends upon our ability to keep our governing structures true to our fundamental values, and we can’t do that if we don’t know what those values are or where they came from.

In a country that celebrates individual rights and respects individual liberty, there will always be dissent, differences of opinion, and struggles for power. But there are different kinds of discord, and they aren’t all equal. When we argue from within the constitutional culture—when we argue about the proper application of the American Idea to new situations or to previously marginalized populations—we strengthen our bonds and learn how to bridge our differences. When our divisions and debates pit powerful forces trying to rewrite our history and most basic rules against citizens who lack the wherewithal to enforce those rules, we undermine the American Idea and erode social trust.

That brings me to an announcement and a request—or maybe I should call it an invitation.

Scholars and educators have expressed concern over inadequacies in civic literacy and citizenship education for a very long time. Periodically, there have been efforts to increase requirements for civic and constitutional educational content, generally in government or “social studies” classes. Most recently, in 2003, the Alliance for Representative Democracy launched the Congressional Conference on Civic Education, and evidence indicates it did have a modest effect.  However, it followed the typical trajectory of these efforts, which has been an initial burst of enthusiasm followed by limited implementation.  The vast majority of new initiatives have had a very limited impact; worse, some states are now reducing social studies and civics requirements in order to focus on subjects tested under the No Child Left Behind Act.

I am currently working with several of my colleagues on a new project: the establishment of a Center on Civic Literacy at IUPUI.  We just received funding for our first three years, so this is a brand-new initiative. My colleagues and I represent different disciplines—law, business, social work, religious studies, bioethics and education—because we are painfully aware that all of our disciplines are adversely affected by low civic literacy. The Center will offer a clearinghouse for research, and will publish a peer-reviewed journal; we also intend to conduct original research on a large number of questions: we want to identify programs and curricula that have demonstrated effectiveness in producing civically-literate students; we want to know why previous efforts at reform have lacked staying power.  We want to investigate the theorized consequences of civic ignorance. And we want to develop a set of recommendations for basic civic education that can be both implemented and sustained.

One of our first projects is something we are calling “The Civic Challenge.” Indiana will celebrate the bicentennial of the state constitution in 2016. What better way to mark the occasion than with a two-year Civic Challenge, in which the entire community engages in a conversation about the U.S. and Indiana Constitutions?  The idea is that every organization we can enlist will use their program years 2015 and 2016 to focus on the Constitution and issues of Constitutional literacy. I see it as sort of a “One community, one book” project on steroids.

Even though we have barely begun, a number of organizations are already on board: the Indianapolis-Marion County Library system, the Indiana Historical Society, the Indiana Humanities Council, Phoenix Theater and the IRT, the League of Women Voters, the Bar Foundation…and many others. We want to make this a high-profile, community-wide, fun project. (It has even been suggested that we enlist sports bars willing to focus their trivia contests on Constitutional rather than sports trivia.) We plan a web site, a Facebook page…well, you get the idea. The hope is to engage the whole community—left, right and center, religious and secular, immigrant and native born, minority and majority–everybody we can corral.

We plan to administer a survey to Indianapolis citizens before we begin the Civic Challenge, and again when it concludes, to see if we have managed to “raise the bar.” If we have, we will challenge other cities to do the same.

We are in the very early planning stages. If this first project is to be successful, we need good ideas for organizations, programs, contests..in short, we need people willing to be involved with the effort. That’s my invitation. If you are interested in knowing more, you can contact me directly at [email protected] or follow our progress on this blog.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter if I think the Establishment Clause requires a certain result and you think it requires a different one. What matters is that we both know what the Establishment Clause is, and what value it was meant to protect. It doesn’t matter whether I think Freedom of the Press extends to bloggers and you disagree. It matters a lot that we both know what Freedom of the Press means, and why it was considered essential to trustworthy government.

Daniel Patrick Moynihan famously said we are all entitled to our own opinions, but not to our own facts. If I think this is a table and you think it’s a chair, we aren’t going to have a productive discussion about its use. We don’t need citizens who all agree about the implications of our founding decisions, or who even agree with the decisions themselves. But we desperately need citizens who share an understanding of what those decisions were.

I hope you’ll agree—and participate in the civic challenge!

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Constitutional Oblivion

I know I’m a broken record when it comes to the appallingly low level of civic literacy in this country, but bear with me for one more installment of “Is it really possible to be that ignorant?” 

Valarie Hodges is an actual, nonfictional member of the Louisiana legislature, which means Louisiana citizens elected her to that body. She enthusiastically supported Governor Bobby Jindal’s school voucher program; however, it turns out that her support rested on the premise that school vouchers could only be used for Christian schools.  As she explained her position,  “I actually support funding for teaching the fundamentals of America’s Founding Fathers’ religion, which is Christianity, in public schools or private schools. I liked the idea of giving parents the option of sending their children to a public school or a Christian school.”

Where to start?

There’s the bad history, of course. While the nation’s founders were all nominally Christian–Protestant, to be more specific–their actual beliefs varied. Some were traditional believers. Many were Deists. Jefferson famously re-wrote the bible to eliminate all the metaphysics (pardon me, Valerie–that means ‘the God stuff’), leaving only the moral instruction. Adams opined that the attribution of divinity to Jesus was a great heresy. Franklin was openly skeptical–and, unlike Valerie–famously tolerant.

Then there’s the Constitution. People we elect to public office take an oath to support the Constitution of the United States. Is it too much to expect that they have some minimal acquaintance with that document?

Read together, the religion clauses of the First Amendment are a prescription for government neutrality in matters of conscience. Government is prohibited from favoring one religion over another, or religion over non-religion. That’s what we mean by separation of church and state–government, even in Louisiana, has to keep its grubby hands out of our souls. From the tenor of her remarks, its safe to assume that Valerie had never encountered references to or explanations of the Establishment Clause or the Free Exercise Clause, and would be surprised to learn that they prohibit teaching Christianity in public schools, let alone authorizing vouchers to be used only in Christian schools.

But finally, there’s reality. Are there no non-Christians in Louisiana? I can understand why there might not be a Buddhist Temple or Hindu shrine close by, but really, are there no synagogues or mosques? Has Valerie ever met an atheist? A Unitarian? Does she watch television or read news on the Internet? It is incredible that she seems never to entertained the possibility of neighbors who do not share her particular beliefs.

I hope–I believe–that Valerie is an outlier, that her incredible ignorance of the law and history and composition of her own country is unrepresentative. But we have a lot of anecdotal and survey data that suggests she isn’t as much of an anomaly as we might hope.

I’m not sure what we do about people like Valerie, or about the people who educate and elect the Valeries of our nation, but several of us at IUPUI intend to find out.

Tomorrow, I’ll explain how.

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What We Don’t Know DOES Hurt Us…

The other day, I was grading a research paper produced by  a graduate student who shares my concerns over civic literacy. The paper included a comprehensive review of available research on the topic, much of which confirmed what we had already known about the American public’s appalling deficit in basic knowledge of our government and history.

But one finding floored me.

“In 2008, the Intercollegiate Studies Institute’s American Civic Literacy Program released the results of a study that tested the civic literacy of the general public, college graduates and elected officials. More than 2500 randomly selected people took ISI’s basic 33-question civic literacy exam, and more than 1700 failed, with an average score of 49 percent, and 30 percent of elected officials unable to identify the phrase “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” as inalienable rights referred to in the Declaration of Independence…only 32 percent of elected officials could accurately define the free enterprise system; only 46 percent knew that Congress has the power to declare war; and only 49 percent could identify all three branches of government. Perhaps most disheartening is that civic literacy ws one of only two variables that had a negative effect on whether someone ran for public office. In other words, the more you know about American government, history and economics, the less likely you are to pursue and win elective office.” 

That explains a lot. It also raises an important question: What is the minimum content of an adequate “civics” education? What do all of us need to know in order to participate in self-governance?

In 1988, E.D. Hirsch stirred up a storm of controversy by arguing that, absent a minimal cultural literacy, students didn’t understand what they read. His basic point was that a common understanding of cultural/historical references is necessary for people to communicate. Most critics accepted that premise; where Hirsch got into trouble was by listing what he considered the necessary knowledge.

Recognizing that I’m stepping into those same choppy waters, let me just suggest some essential elements of civic literacy–beginning with an acknowledgement that neither the general public nor elected officials need to be scholars or (worse still) “intellectuals.” We are talking about very basic information necessary to conduct a rational discussion about our shared public institutions.

1) Every student who graduates from high school should know basic American history. I don’t care if they know the year the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock, but they should know who the Pilgrims and Puritans were, why we fought the American Revolution, what the Enlightenment was and how it changed our definition of liberty and informed our approach to self-government and individual rights.

2) Every voter should know the basics of American government: what is meant by checks and balances and separation of powers, and the identities and duties of each of the three branches of government. Citizens should be able to recognize and define the rights protected by the Bill of Rights. (When only 51% of Americans agree that newspapers should be allowed to publish without prior government approval, we are clearly failing to provide that education.)

3) Voters don’t need to know the definition of a neutron, or how to spot a fossil, but they should know what science and the scientific method are. And they should know the difference between the scientific term “theory” and our casual use of that term.

4) Our endless debates over taxation and economic policy would benefit enormously if every student who graduated from high school could define  capitalism, socialism, fascism and mixed economy; if they knew the difference between the national debt and the deficit; and the difference between marginal and effective tax rates. (I’m always astonished by the number of people who think that being in the 50% bracket means you pay 50% of your income in taxes.)

Education reform is a hot topic right now. Basic civic knowledge needs to be at the top of that reform agenda.

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The Body Politic

Tonight, I’ll chair a Spirit and Place Panel on “The Body Politic” at the Indiana Statehouse. I hope some of you can attend; for those who can’t, here are my introductory remarks.

I’d like to introduce the panel: Eric Meslin is Associate Dean and Director of the Center for Bioethics at the IU School of Medicine; Philip Goff is Associate Dean of Liberal Arts at IUPUI and Director of the Center for the Study of Religion and American Culture; and Louis Galloway is Senior Pastor at 2d Presbyterian Church. I’m Sheila Kennedy, and I teach Law and Public Policy at the School of Public and Environmental Affairs.

So–What is a “body politic”? For purposes of tonight’s discussion, the body politic is best defined as a political community, a collective body of people who share allegiance to a particular government.  Or—as I like to think of it—a body politic is comprised of people who share certain norms and attitudes that have been shaped by their governing philosophy and institutions, people who share a certain Constitutional culture.

Our national motto is e pluribus unum—out of the many, one. That never has meant sameness or homogeneity—Americans have never shared a single religion, national origin, skin color, or even political philosophy. What we have shared is a certain approach to how we live together, an approach that grew out of the Enlightenment and includes a strong belief in the importance of reason, the rule of law, individual rights and political equality. Our political community makes space for all the other communities we participate in: religious communities, professional communities, social communities and so forth. A healthy political community—a healthy body politic—is essential to the health of all our other associations. And right now, the body politic isn’t doing so well.

The question our panel will consider is: what does it take to create and maintain a body politic? Are there things that citizens absolutely have to know, values they absolutely have to share? In a country as diverse as ours, what creates and sustains unum from our pluribus?

In 1987, E.D. Hirsch wrote a book called Cultural Literacy: What Every American Needs to Know. His thesis was that in order to engage in genuine communication, people need to share a basic understanding of cultural allusions—terms like “banana republic” or “academic freedom” or “Achilles heel,” that are used as short-hands to convey certain ideas common to the culture. The person who is unfamiliar with those terms, according to Hirsch, is not genuinely engaged in the conversation. Whether or not you accept Hirsch’s entire thesis, it’s hard to argue with the proposition that we need a shared understanding of basic cultural references in order to communicate. The question is: what is the minimum that Americans need to know in order to sustain a healthy body politic?

These days, if you turn on a “public affairs” television program, listen to talk radio, or attend a lawmaker’s “town meeting,” you are likely to witness the increasing stridence and incivility of what currently passes for democratic discourse.  Our elected officials seem unable to engage with each other in anything approaching a productive and mutually meaningful exchange.  Americans seem increasingly to be talking past, rather than to, each other.

On one hand, it is important to place our current “red state/blue state” hostilities in historical perspective. This country has seen periods of very significant conflict before—the Civil War, prohibition, the civil rights movement, and the turmoil of “the sixties,” to name just a few.  On the other hand, the radical pluralism that characterizes modern life—and the new technologies that bring a certain “in your face” quality to that pluralism—pose challenges that are arguably unlike those of past times.

It’s fairly obvious that the labeling and insults that increasingly dominate our media and politics aren’t communication. Communication doesn’t require an absence of argument or disagreement, but it does require that we actually hear each other, that we argue from the same basic premises or facts, that at some level, no matter how minimal, we be able to acknowledge what it is the other person is saying and understand the basis upon which that person is saying it.

Unfortunately, these days Americans seem to be living in separate realities, unable to participate in the same conversation. And in my own opinion, one of the root causes of that disconnect is a widespread lack of civic literacy and cultural competence.

I study how constitutional values operate within a diverse culture, how those values connect us to people with very different backgrounds and beliefs and make us all Americans.  That research has convinced me that an understanding of the history and philosophy of our country is absolutely critical to our continued ability to function as a body politic. That research has also convinced me that the civic literacy we need is in short supply.

Let me share an anecdote that may illustrate my concern. When I teach Law and Public Affairs, I begin with the way our particular legal framework limits our policy options, and how “original intent” guides our application of Constitutional principles to current conflicts. I usually ask students something like “What do you suppose James Madison thought about porn on the internet?” Usually, they’ll laugh and then we discuss how Madison’s beliefs about freedom of expression should guide courts faced with contemporary issues involving the internet. But a couple of years ago, when I asked a young woman—a junior in college—that question, she looked at me blankly and asked “Who’s James Madison?”

It’s tempting to dismiss this as anecdotal, but there are reams of research confirming widespread civic ignorance. A survey by the Oklahoma Council of Public Affairs recently asked high school students questions about the government. Twenty-eight percent could identify the Constitution as the supreme law of the land; 26% knew what we call the first ten amendments to the Constitution; 27 % could identify the two parts of the U.S. Congress; 10% knew how many justices are on the Supreme Court; and only 43% could name the two major political parties.

There’s more—much more. Only 36 percent of Americans of any age can correctly name the three branches of government. Fewer than half of 12th graders can describe the meaning of federalism. Only 35% of teenagers can correctly identify “We the People” as the first three words of the Constitution.

This is appalling. If you think about it, the choices originally made by the men who designed our constitutional architecture have shaped the culture we live in. They dictate how we think about what’s public and private, our notions of personal responsibility, and our conceptions of human rights. They frame the way we allocate collective social duties among governmental, nonprofit and private actors. In short, those initial constitutional choices created a distinctively American worldview.  Failure to understand and appreciate those initial decisions is failure to understand the structure of the world we live in; it is failure to understand the context of contemporary politics and policy.

People who have little grasp of American history or the Enlightenment roots of our particular approach to government don’t argue from within our Constitutional Culture. Look, for just one example, at current debates over gay rights. People who disapprove of homosexuality for personal or religious reasons want the government to treat gay people differently. Their arguments are based upon their views of moral behavior, usually as dictated by religious authority. Our constitution absolutely protects their right to believe and to act upon those beliefs in their personal lives—if they don’t like gay people, they don’t need to invite them to dinner; if their churches condemn same-sex marriage, they need not conduct them. But that same Constitution limits the ability of government to tell citizens how to live their lives, and it requires that government treat citizens as equals before the law.

We can argue the morality of homosexuality, or we can argue about the proper role of government in our constitutional system. Both arguments are legitimate, but they are different arguments. When person A says “the Constitution requires X” and person B responds “God doesn’t like that,” we are not having a conversation from within the constitutional culture, and we are not sustaining the body politic. We aren’t having a conversation at all—we’re just yelling past each other.

Tonight’s panel is going to wrestle with a very difficult question: what is the minimum level of knowledge—of civic and other literacy—that we should expect from members of our “body politic”? Citizens don’t need to be constitutional scholars, scientists or historians—but we can’t survive, can’t sustain the necessary cultural norms, unless they share a basic understanding of who we are and where we came from. What is the necessary content of that understanding?

What is the minimum reality we need to share in order to communicate productively and in order to create a constitutional culture?

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Pathetic Policy Discourse

There are a lot of examples of what happens when those making policy don’t know what they are talking about, but here’s one that just annoys the hell out of me every time it comes up.

The New York legislature is preparing to vote on whether the state will recognize same-sex marriage. The Times reports that one of the “concessions” being demanded is explicit language protecting churches that refuse to officiate at such unions.

I know I harp on the importance of constitutional literacy, but this is a perfect example of what happens when even the most basic, rudimentary constitutional knowledge is absent.

The First Amendment religion clauses not only protect all of us from governmentally-imposed  religion, those clauses also protect the free exercise rights of religious organizations. That means–at a minimum–that government cannot force churches to engage in activities that are counter to their beliefs. Churches and other religious organizations are even exempt from civil rights laws when hiring for religious positions. Bottom line, it would be unconstitutional to demand that clergymen officiate at same-sex weddings, and any effort to sue them for refusing to do so would be immediately tossed out of court.

Furthermore, the “marriage” that government recognizes is civil marriage only. Government classifies people as married for purposes of determining who is entitled to the 1000+ legal benefits that accompany recognition of that contractual relationship. Civil and religious marriage are different. Governments do not and cannot “sanctify” a marital union–for that, people have to go to their respective churches (a growing number of which are willing to do so). Our constitution separates church and state (no matter what Michele Bachmann and her ilk think), and that separation means government has no authority over religious doctrine and belief.

When political actors demand statutory “protection” for churches, you can be sure the actor is either dishonest or ignorant (not that these categories are mutually exclusive). Granted, adding language that duplicates the existing constitutional protection doesn’t require proponents of same-sex marriage to give anything up. But it implicitly suggests that–absent such language–the government could make the demand in the first place, and adds to the ever-growing stupidity of our national discourse.

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