þ7q »¢:û4 ž ž © º ³Æ, ºò| »n »n »n »n »n »x »‚ »‚ »‚ »‚ »‚ »¢ »¢ »¢ »¢_ Technology and public participation Brian Martin, editor Science and Technology Studies University of Wollongong 1999 First published 1999 by Science and Technology Studies University of Wollongong NSW 2522, Australia ISBN 0 86418 559 6 Permission is granted for unlimited reproduction of portions or all of this text provided ¥ full acknowledgment is given of the source; ¥ no changes are made except with the authorÕs permission; ¥ no restraint is imposed on further reproduction of the text. This text is available on the web at http://www.uow.edu.au/arts/sts/TPP/. The editor can be contacted at the above address or at brian_martin@uow.edu.au. Printed at University of Wollongong Printery Services Technology and Public Participation TodayÕs complex society is increasingly intermeshed with technology, from factories to consumer products and from genetically engineered products to telecommunications. This raises all sorts of questions for a democratic society. Should members of the public be involved in decisions about development and use of technologies? If so, how? Are technologies enhancing or diminishing public participation? What is happening and what should be happening? What forms of participation have been tried? What could be tried? These issues need continual attention. Technology and Public Participation provides a set of case studies and perspectives on the general theme of technology and participation. They cover a variety of topics, including project planning, space exploration, the competence of juries to deal with complex scientific issues and the role of the telephone in local government. They also cover a variety of perspectives and themes, from the issue of policy for innovation to concerns about psychiatry, human rights and development. They span decision-making arenas both internal to civil society and external to it in local and national governments, and beyond to global governing bodies such as the World Bank and international agreements such as the Outer Space Treaty. They extend across the spectrum from children to farmers, juries and policy makers through to international non-governmental organisations and beyond to space explorers. ISBN 0 86418 559 6 Contents 1 Introduction by Brian Martin I. Technologies shaping participation 15 Toys, play and participation by Wendy Varney commentaries by Lynne Bartholomew and Sudarshan Khanna 37 The telephone as a participatory mechanism at a local government level by Lyn Carson commentaries by Ann Moyal, Wendy Sarkissian and Monica Wolf 61 Lap-tops against communicative democracy: international non-governmental organisations and the World Bank by Miriam Solomon II. Public participation processes 85 The politics of jury competence by Gary Edmond and David Mercer commentaries by David Bernstein and Ian Freckelton response by Gary Edmond and David Mercer 113 ÒCommunity participationÓ in urban project assessment (an ecofeminist analysis) by Janis Birkeland commentaries by Bronwyn Hayward and Paul Selman response by Janis Birkeland 143 Coercive psychiatry, human rights and public participation by Richard Gosden commentaries by Chris Bowker, Peter Macdonald and Denise Russell response by Richard Gosden 169 Public participation or public relations? by Sharon Beder commentaries by Gavan McDonell and Ben Selinger III. Technology policy 195 Policy formation and public participation in the management of technological change by Rhonda Roberts 209 Participation in food industry technologies in the age of sustainability by Andy Monk, commentaries by Richard Hindmarsh and Gyorgy Scrinis 231 Gaining a share of the final frontier by Alan Marshall commentary by Robert Zubrin response by Alan Marshall 249 Conclusion by Brian Martin I Technologies shaping participation Introduction Brian Martin* A few hundred years ago, to talk of technology and public participation would have been meaningless to most people. Dramatic changes have occurred in both these areas. The word ÒtechnologyÓ today often brings to mind sophisticated things like computers, missiles and genetic engineering. But it also includes everyday items such as chairs, clothes, paper and toothbrushes. For someone who lives in a city in an industrialised country, oneÕs entire life seems to take place within a technological framework: driving a car or taking a train to work in an office building, communicating by telephone and electronic mail, purchasing goods manufactured in factories, eating food processed in other factories, using energy produced in distant plants, perhaps consulting a doctor who uses diagnostic equipment, going home to a house or apartment built from materials mined and processed, and sleeping on a manufactured bed. Humans have developed and used technologies for hundreds of thousands of years, to be sure, from simple wooden implements to baskets and wheels. But since the development of agriculture some thousands of years ago and especially since the industrial revolution a few hundred years ago, technologies have become ever more powerful and pervasive, leading some to say that we live in a Òtechnological society.Ó The word ÒtechnologyÓ often is interpreted to mean machines or artefacts, those familiar things that we can see and touch. More broadly, though, technology also includes the social processes through which artefacts are created and maintained, such as the division of labour in a factory. Specifically, ÒtechnologyÓ can include systems of knowledge that are associated with artefacts, such as scientific knowledge about a manufactured drug like aspirin. In this book we take a broad view of technology, considering it to include what is commonly called science. Just as technology has become more pervasive in society, so has the importance of public participation, though not in any simple fashion. In many non-industrial societies, including ones that exist today, small groups of people live and work together and nearly everyone is involved in decisions affecting the group, though inequalities in power based on age and gender are common. With the rise of larger groups based on agriculture and industry, domination by rulers, such as emperors or landowners, became the usual pattern. The ancient Athenians used a variety of methods for citizen participation in decision making. Even though women and slaves were left out because they were not considered citizens, the ancient Athenians were exceptional in the amount and quality of participation that occurred, especially compared to the autocracy and oppression in much of world in the centuries since. The push for participation has become ever more important in the past few hundred years. At the formal political level, feudal regimes have been replaced by systems of representative government, with elected representatives. At first, voting was restricted to a propertied elite, but successive struggles have broadened the franchise to include nearly all the adult population. Participation in decision making can mean many things. Voting for representatives is indirect participation, since the representatives rather than the voters make the substantive decisions. Referendums are a form of direct democracy, since they allow all voters to express a preference. Then there is the market: when consumers purchase an item or a service, they express a preference from among the available alternatives. One brand of detergent is chosen over another, or a choice is made between solar, gas and electric heaters. These forms of participation are all very well, but many people want something more. When a freeway is planned that will cut through a neighbourhood, many residents demand a voice. Voting for representatives isnÕt enough, since a vote is for a person or a party, not a policy on a specific issue. Nor is being a consumer much help in this situation, since the only consumer choice seems to be to put up with the freeway or move away. Sometimes residents are ÒconsultedÓ through opinion polls or by tabling of plans for comment. This isnÕt enough either, since the agenda doesnÕt include basic questions of whether the freeway is needed in the first place or whether other transport modes could be developed. Most people have relatively little say in decisions about technology. They are not involved in choices about research and development and they are not involved in investment decisions. Then, when they are presented with a new development as a foregone conclusion, they are expected to welcome it as Òprogress.Ó It is no wonder that the major form of citizen action is protest against new technologies, such as against nuclear power or logging of rainforests. It is only at the stage of implementation that many people become aware of what is happening and its implications. Technological developments are not always beneficialÑthat has been obvious at least since nuclear weapons were developed. Citizen participation is essential to stop harmful technologies. It can be argued, for example, that popular protest has been a crucial factor in preventing nuclear war and in ending the cold war. Technologies are not inevitable. For example, it was originally envisaged that there would be 500 supersonic transport aircraft, but popular resistance restricted this to a few Concordes. Protest movements are the most visible force in disputes over technologies, but actually they usually have the least influence. Governments use their enormous resources to research, implement and maintain technological systems, including weapons, transport and communication systems. Corporations routinely develop new products, build factories and sell goods, from perfume to pesticides. Experts, especially scientists and engineers, are also central to technological innovation. Government and corporate managers, plus a few top-level scientists and engineers, have a great deal of influence over what technologies are investigated and promoted. By contrast, workers and consumers have little say. Just as important as the practical tasks of research, development, production and sales are the ideological tasks of convincing the public that new technologies are a good thing. Advertising is important but so is the promotion of a general belief in the wonders of advanced science and technology. When social movements organise against a new chemical or genetically engineered organism, they are painted as opponents of Òprogress.Ó Social movements, such as the environmental and peace movements, are usually seen as being against something or other. Actually, some of the most powerful social movements are those pushing for new technologies such as computers. These movements are not so visible; by operating behind the scenes they are far more effective. Although governments, corporations and expert professionals have by far the greatest influence over decisions about technology, there is some potential for changing this. People today are far more educated and aware of technology and its impact than in previous eras. The rise of printing, mass literacy and the mass media has given many more people the capacity to understand and speak out about what is happening in society. It would hardly be possible to bring about a technological society without also creating the capacity of ever more people to comprehend and criticise it. Furthermore, new technologies have created new opportunities for obtaining information and acting on it. Radio and television allow promotion of products but also report on challenges and catastrophes. The telephone and electronic mail allow people to share information, form networks and build powerful movements. Technologies such as the mass media can be used both to hoodwink people and to provide insight, but that does not mean they are neutral tools. It is trite but true to note that any specific technology is easier to use for some purposes than others. A tank is easier to use for killing whereas a violin is easier to use for producing music, even though each can in principle be used for either purpose. Careful investigation is needed to determine the purposes for which technologies can and are likely to be used. It is unwise to leave this to groups with vested interests, such as government, corporate or professional sponsors, since they are unlikely to come up with a balanced view. This is why participation from a wide cross section of the public is vital. Out of the massive amount of writing about democracy and participation, only a small fraction deals with science and technology. This writing covers many topics including obstacles to participation and proposals for decision making involving citizens. There are several obstacles to widespread public participation in decisions about technology. One is that most people lack expertise. The argument is that since they donÕt really understand the technology or its implications, they are not qualified to judge it. This sounds plausible but, on closer inspection, breaks down. The technical details may be complicated, but they are seldom the crucial issue. There are always social factors involved. Consider transport policy. You donÕt need to understand how a jet engine operates, or how to fly a plane, in order to be involved in decisions about flight patterns or siting of an airport. You donÕt need to be an expert on brain functioning or x-ray machines in order to be involved in decisions about investment in medical technologies. Experts know a lot about their area of specialisation, but often they are poorly placed to comment on policy issues. Jet pilots are not necessarily the best people to comment on whether transport investment should be directed to plane, train, car or bicycle. Brain surgeons are not necessarily the best people to comment on whether greater priority in health policy should go to brain scanners or prevention of disease through nutrition. Another obstacle to widespread public participation is lack of time. A person may be able to become informed about transport or health policy, but what about energy, defence and industry? These and many other areas contain a multitude of specific issues, each with its own complexities. It is impossible for everyone to be involved in every issue. That is precisely the argument in favour of representative democracy. The standard model of decision making is for politicians and government bureaucrats to make decisions on the basis of advice from experts. This seldom involves much public input. Sometimes, on contentious issues, there is a public inquiry, in which interested parties are invited to make submissions to a judge or panel. This allows many more people to be involved, but in an unsystematic manner. Furthermore, there is no guarantee that governments will follow the recommendations coming from such inquiries. There have been proposals to deal with controversial technical issues through a Òscience court,Ó in which a panel of experts hears evidence and makes judgements about the facts. One trouble with this idea is that facts cannot be easily separated from values. Another proposal is for a Òcitizens hearing panelÓ which, like the science court, hears evidence. The panellists in this case are citizens chosen because they represent interested parties, such as consumer bodies or trade unions. This idea overcomes some of the dependence on experts but is open to manipulation by whoever selects the panellists. Neither idea has been taken up by governments. Putting an issue to a referendum certainly involves the public, but also has limitations. Usually only a few choices are availableÑand few people have input into what the choices are. Few voters have the time to investigate deeply. Interest groups can spend large amounts of money in media campaigns to sway the vote. In spite of this, referendums give citizens much more of a say than the usual procedures. When an issue is put to a referendum, it typically generates widespread discussion. The experience of hundreds of referendums over putting fluoride in local public water supplies in the US shows that citizens often do not vote the way experts think they ought to. Another proposal is to set up Òpolicy juries.Ó These are groups of citizens, randomly selected from volunteers, who hear evidence and arguments from experts and advocates and make recommendations. Researchers in Germany and the US have tried out this approach and found that participants take the process quite seriously, become enthusiastic about participation and reach sensible conclusions. Random selection reduces the influence of vested interests while turning each specific issue over to a policy jury overcomes the problem of everyone having to learn about every issue. However, this method undermines the role of politicians and bureaucrats and so has not been taken up. Background to this book In Science and Technology Studies at the University of Wollongong, there has long been an interest in the social impacts of contemporary science and technology. Many staff and research students have investigated controversial scientific and technological projects, such as debates over the greenhouse effect and over vitamin C and cancer. Some staff and students have been participants in social movements or campaigns, such as over nuclear power. At one of our research meetings, we realised that public participation was a common issue in many of our studies and experiences. We decided to produce a book covering a range of case studies and perspectives. We invited a few colleagues known to us. In keeping with the theme of participation, we decided to make the process of producing the book reasonably participatory. Electronic mail was extremely helpful in our communications. We agreed on deadlines, word limits (a painful challenge for some contributors!) and a procedure for ensuring the quality of each chapter. Each contributor was expected to seek comments from at least two readers on a first draft and then give the revised version to me as editor. I offered further comments and each contributor prepared a further revised version. We decided to invite outsiders to comment on each chapter. Each contributor nominated a series of people as possible commentators. They had word limits too. Contributors then had the option of writing brief responses to any commentaries on their chapters. The commentaries provide alternative perspectives to those of the chapter authors. This helps to avoid the impression that there is a definitive view on any issue. Just as technology is and should be controversial, so the issue of participation deserves dialogue and debate. We agreed to aim our writing at a general educated audience. This is not so easy, since in academia the usual orientation is to specialise in oneÕs own field. Furthermore, each contributor has carried out in-depth research into the topic covered, often for many years. To step back from specialist language and perspectives and communicate for a wider readership can be challenging. We have gone some way in this direction, though undoubtedly some chapters will challenge some readers. Each contributor has approached his or her topic in a distinctive fashion. We havenÕt tried to impose a single perspective or theoretical framework. Everyone, though, subscribes to a few important assumptions. One is that it is not possible to separate technical issues from social issues. Values are always involved in technology, from its conception to its practical uses. Secondly, we all agree that people who are affected by technology should have an opportunity to participate in decisions about it, though we would differ on the extent and form of that participation. Indeed, we do not automatically assume that participation is always a good thing. Finally, we all believe that the issue of technology and participation is a vital one that deserves more attention and discussion. That is the rationale behind the book. The chapters The chapters are divided into three sections dealing with, respectively, the influence of technologies on participation, the role of technology in public participation processes, and public decision-making about technology. These categories are arbitrary but capture some key elements in the issues. That technology can affect participation in decision making is apparent from any number of examples. The mass media provide information about current events, sometimes stimulating citizen action and sometimes inhibiting or undermining it. Pressure groups use word processors, printing, direct mailing, public address systems, mobile phones and other technological aids to organise support and coordinate action. Just about any technology can have an impact on participation, from robots to recording equipment. Three chapters deal with this process. Their topics include a seldom considered dimension for participationÑtoysÑand fresh looks at the familiar telephone and computer. Toys are an everyday technology with which children play and to which few adults give much attention. Wendy Varney takes a closer look. She argues that play is an important training ground for future citizen participation but that modern toys are constraining and privatising play, reducing its value in education for participation. At first sight toys may seem a trivial sort of technology, but analysis quickly leads to issues of mass marketing and corporate agendas. The telephone has long been familiar in the industrialised world. Lyn Carson looks at a specific application of the telephone: as a tool for participation in local government. As an elected member of a local council, she tried various techniques for consulting and involving citizens in decision making. The telephone turned out to be one of the most practical tools and one that allowed her to adopt a Òheart politicsÓ approach in which human connection takes priority over confrontation. Non-governmental organisations, such as environmental and human rights groups, have a special interest in public participation since they depend on public support for their campaigns. On the international scene, many groups have challenged the undemocratic practices of the World Bank. Miriam Solomon puts these groups under scrutiny, examining the role of the lap-top computer in their own practices, participatory or otherwise. She proposes a model of communicative democracy and raises some of the dilemmas posed by the concept of a global civil society. The second group of chapters deals with processes of public participation in four arenas where the uses of science and technology are centrally involved: courts, urban planning, psychiatry and siting of hazardous facilities. In each of these areas the public has been involved in decision making but some groups would like to limit the scope of participation. In the court room, a place where many crucial decisions are made, the jury remains an important source of citizen participation, both in practice and symbolically. Recently, the jury has come under attack by critics who claim that ordinary citizens are not competent to judge complex technical issues. Gary Edmond and David Mercer delve into the assumptions, about both science and the public, behind these arguments. Planning a new projectÑsuch as a building or transport linkÑis a classic case where citizen participation can be considered. Traditional models for making decisions have a number of problems, such as treating community and experts as separate and treating participation as a step in a sequential process. Janis Birkeland exposes these problems and presents an alternative model based on feminist principles. Psychiatry is about the proper operation of the mind. This has always involved theories and talk about the mind and brain, but technologies are increasingly important. Today mind-altering drugs are regularly used as part of psychiatric practice. Richard Gosden tackles the controversial issue of Òcoercive psychiatry,Ó namely therapy imposed on people without their consent. Questions of human rights and participation are fundamental in this area. Because participation is generally seen as a good thing, vested interests often attempt to give the illusion of participation without the substance. Sharon Beder examines the role of public relations in a decision about a proposed toxic waste incinerator. She shows that the rhetoric of participation may hide the true agenda, one that is better described as manipulation. The third and final group of chapters deals with government decision making about technology, commonly called technology policy. In liberal democracies, there is a continual struggle over whether citizen participation begins or ends with voting. Governments use various ways to restrict participation while trying to retain their legitimacy as representatives of the peopleÕs will. In a technological society, technology policy is a central arena for power struggles. Because technological innovation is a key driving force in industrialised economies, governments donÕt like to leave it to chance. Many attempts have been made to emulate the success of technology parks such as Silicon Valley near San Francisco. Rhonda Roberts analyses the assumptions underlying attempts to foster the innovation process and shows the limited role allotted for citizens. In recent decades, agriculture has been transformed by technology virtually into an industrial process. Corporations and governments have pushed this change, with little input from citizens. Andy Monk looks at modern agriculture and especially at the role of farmers in the innovation process. The organic agriculture movement provides an example where greater participation is linked to a different style of farming. Space exploration has seemed to many to be the ultimate technological challenge. Yet, it can be asked, who speaks for the extraterrestrial environment? Alan Marshall argues that space exploration has proceeded similarly to the imperialistic conquests of the past, completely contrary to the humanitarian ideals normally used to justify it. The concluding chapter picks out themes and theoretical issues introduced in the earlier chapters, attempting to expand on common threads. * * * We do not expect that everyone will agree with every author. Certainly, some of the commentators do not! Rather, our aim is to stimulate thinking and discussion and to provoke debate. Apathy and the acceptance of technology as inevitable are the enemies of participation. We hope that others will challenge us and each other with new ideas and with new forms and arenas of participation. Acknowledgments I thank Sharon Beder, Lyn Carson and Wendy Varney for comments on a draft of this chapter and everyone in the project for advice, support and tolerance. Toys, play and participation Wendy Varney* Imagine children at play and the image that springs to mind might well embrace several aspects of participation: children involved in joint activities, learning together, allocating roles, trying out ideas, agreeing, disagreeing, sometimes fighting, sometimes resolving differences. Yet the toys that are popularly marketed to children, Òthe tools of play,Ó are strangely devoid of features which encourage these aspects of playÑwith the exception of war-toys which encourage ÒparticipationÓ in fighting. If participatory play still exists to some extent, it is despite, not due to, the toys which beckon from the loaded shelves of toy stores. Examples of dolls and doll play in different periods make the point that todayÕs heavily marketed toys are less conducive to participatory play. Up until the industrial revolution, most toys were home-made so that dolls would frequently be crudely fashioned lumps of clay or some other material which children felt could stand in for a doll. This left most definition at the imaginative level so that the doll could take on virtually any role decided by the child. After the industrial revolution specially crafted or factory-made dolls became increasingly available and from around 1820 the baby doll was introduced at a time when the role of mothering was gathering great ideological momentum. By this time dolls were perceived to be exclusively for girls whereas in eras past they had been for children of both sexes. Both the pressures on young girls to practise nurturing from an early age and the designing of dolls to depict those in need of mothering influenced doll play along lines of socialisation for motherhood. Nonetheless, girls continued to play other things with dolls as well as acting out the mother-child relationship. The dolls were still largely perceived to be little people whose age categories could be determined in accordance with the desires of those playing with them. My own experience growing up in the 1950s was that dolls were essentially a ticket to play with other girls in the neighbourhood. No one was excluded as long as she had a doll tucked under her arm. At times the after-school doll play was less important than the negotiation, script-writingÑand outright arguingÑthat was the prelude to doll play. Were we to be mothers at a gathering with our babies? Were we taking our children shopping? Were we attending a wedding? If so, serious discussions would determine whose doll was to be the bride. Or would we have a tea-party where both the dolls and ourselves would be equal guests? Our ideas were limited not so much by the dolls themselves but by the roles we perceived as being open to women. Doll play still maintained much of its flexibility and opportunities for participation. The launching of Barbie, a doll whose role was strictly confined to that of teenager, and a genre of dolls that relied heavily on accessories to set the scene for play, appears to have narrowed the opportunities for play and, with it, the opportunities for negotiating play. In this way, mass-marketed contemporary toys inhibit rather than facilitate participation, for reasons which I will explore, after firstly teasing out the various influences that toy technology has had on childrenÕs introduction to participatory processes. Participation in itself is insufficient for meeting far-reaching democratic goals. If not tied to broader struggles for social justice and for equality of resources and opportunities, participation can be lame and unfulfilling. For instance, participatory play in itself cannot counter sexism, racism and violence if the culture that sustains the play holds these to be valid. A further problem is that ÒparticipationÓ has become a catchphrase, used by the market for its own purposes. The result has been a pseudo-participation which has been designed by those who seek to accrue individual benefits by having the image of participation pervade their practices. Toys, and ultimately play (since toys support certain types of play activity), have been affected by the pseudo-participation of the marketplace. The opportunity to purchase and possess so many toys, to make (albeit limited) decisions about which to forego and which to pursue and to link up across so many points of culture in playing with these toys is sometimes interpreted as a form of participation. I will argue that contemporary toys have contributed to moving childrenÕs play away from participation and replacing it with a crass Òmarketplace participationÓ where dollars are the means by which children participate. It will be seen that the marketplace promotes a very narrow and warped version of participation and one which is almost directly opposed to the notion of participation that comes from involvement in the nature of play. But first the different aspects of the relationship between toys and participation need to be spelt out. There are four major points at which toy technology and participation intersect: ¥ at the practical level where play is enacted around or alongside the toy; ¥ at an ideological level where the toy and the play transmit sets of values and help to interpret the world for the child; ¥ at the level of producer-consumer relations between toy promoter and potential toy purchaser where claims might be made as to the participatory characteristics of any particular toy and a model of participation is held forth within that claim; ¥ between those who design toys and those who may be interested in having input into toy design for reasons other than market reasons. Many playersÑfast-food chains, movie production teams, merchandisers, licensing agents and moreÑinfluence the direction of toys but they do so from the same limited motivational base. This is not participation in the same sense that it might be if parents, educationalists and others who were not in the employ of the toy and entertainment industry were involved from the early stages. Each of these four potential connecting points between toys and participation could be explored at length and there is a great deal of overlap among them. I will focus largely on the first two aspects, arguing that the nature of play has changed remarkably in response to the increasing prominence of the marketplace and its enveloping of all aspects of life, not least of all childrenÕs play. I will then address some of the ideological implications of this and what it might mean for the notion of participation that children form around their own experiences and which they carry into adulthood. Shifting patterns of play The practical level at which toys provide scope for participation stems largely from a toyÕs ability to influence play, yet that influence is variable and itself subject to other social forces. Toys have traditionally been more peripheral to play than they presently are. That is, in most cultures and most eras the toys fitted into the play rather than play being determined by the plaything. Since many of the toys that children have played with have traditionally been made by the children themselves, they have been able to make them to specifically meet their own ideas of play. Toy historians Eugene and Asterie Provenzo claim that self-made toys Òrequired the imagination and inventiveness of the childÓ and Òprovided the opportunity to penetrate and understand the physical environment in which they live.Ó Another crucial aspect of traditional play is that it has generally been strongly participatory, as is evident from anthropologies of play such as Helen SchwartzmanÕs Transformations. Traditionally most play has happened among a number of people, often children in combination with adults. A study by UNESCO suggested that in many non-Western countries children and adults played the same games, just as they performed many of the same tasks towards making a living. Neither work nor play was strongly age-differentiated. It is a rather Western and only quite recent trend which sees the life of children as being so separate from the lives of adults. This separation makes the extent to which children participate and learn about the possibilities for participation particularly important since they have less scope for learning it through joint activities with adults. Some play which is of the ÒtraditionalÓ kind still exists, of course, and some play may mix traditional and other values, but the tendency has been, at least in the latter half of the 1900s, to encourage play which is commodity-oriented and to have toys owned by individual children rather than groups of children. This in turn has led to more individual play. As an activity which children do together, play provides numerous opportunities for participating. Indeed to some considerable degree it is participation which makes play what it has traditionally been. There are rituals and rules laid down that, from time to time, have to be negotiated. The game has to be carried out in the way the group of players collectively interprets it as needing to be played. Dorothy Singer points out that games with rules might involve competition, but more likely co-operation. Such games usually involve codes that are institutionalised but rules that may have to be renegotiated, re-interpreted or improvised. Players often have to work through or come to some agreement, though this does not necessarily mean that power will be evenly distributed or equally exercised. According to Singer, games with rules are Òcritical for the mastery of orderly thought, moral judgement, and other phases of operational or logical mature thought.Ó These all bear benefits as useful ingredients for participation. Singer further claims that children learn to share, take turns and co-operate through make-believe play and that such play helps them to develop scripts and order or sequence events. I will argue that most of the modern toys do not encourage children to develop scripts and so cannot fulfil this role. There are benefits in group play in that children are learning to interact with each other, often in positive ways. While certainly play can be carried out unequally and with some players dominating others, it is one area where children can learn to overcome such dominance and to voice their own concerns. Calls for fairness and for different players to take turns at different roles are common in play, suggesting that there is a strong connection between play and participation, although no guarantee that the former will involve the latter. Other forms of social codes and interaction, including those reliant on race, gender and class, will obviously also bring other factors to bear on play. Having established that the relationship between traditional play and participation is a strong one, we need to understand how toys fit into this relationship and how they influence it. They exert two basic types of influences, one in relation to toysÕ location in play and the other relating to the nature of the toys themselves. In traditional play toys were props but not much more in terms of their influence over play. That has changed dramatically with the emergence of the commodity-toyÑor what Beryl Langer has called the ÒcommoditoyÓ. The appeal of these toys far surpasses their functionality, making them strong examples of a phenomenon that Wolfgang Haug has described as Òthe technocracy of sensuality.Ó Not only are great efforts invested in enhancing every visual aspect of these toys but they are designed so as to confront and tantalise every sense. Many dolls smell of flowers, fruits and other flavours, while lighting and sound effects are maximised across the full spectrum of toys. Some balls even have a gimmick of making noises when thrown, while high-tech versions of the humble skipping rope light up and emit bubbles. However, it is not only at the operating level of the toy that this sensuality takes place. Toys are designed to build up appeal via the relationships they have with each other and with a great many other commodities and events to which they are tied. Commodities have come to provide many of the symbols and goals around which our society now revolves and, in accordance with this elevation, toys have come to play a decidedly more central role in play, to the extent that toys determine what form play will take rather than play determining what toys should be used and if toys should be used. This renders the toy a much more influential force in play and allows the nature of the toy to shape the direction of play. I am referring here not simply to the toy and its set of meanings, but to the entire support network built around the toy and from which the toy takes its often highly specific meaning. Toys are nowadays sold via a dazzling array of marketing mechanisms and the rather limited sort of play that goes with the toy is sold as part of that toy. The toy industry is an arm of a broader entertainment and commodity industry which organises its promotions to children so as to reinforce the wares on offer through cross-promotion and multi-layered promotion. The support network includes a range of promotions via advertisements, competitions, mall entertainment, catalogues and magazines for children, but extends also to other commodities. A typical well-promoted toy may have a movie made around it, a television series, a fast-food tie-in, a breakfast cereal linked to it and a plethora of merchandise such as sneakers, lunch boxes and bed sheets featuring the toy on their design. Due to the involvement of movie and television program producers, and to heavy television and other advertising, the upshot is that a child will be familiar with not just the toy but the storyline which goes with it. Since many popular toys come within series, each character will have an elaborately detailed role which has been played out in fine detail through the promotions surrounding it. This nudges play in the direction of imitation rather than imagination, since the story has been painstakingly thought through and repeatedly played out for the child in the promotions. As a result, most modern toys involve deliberately closed systems of play. They are not open-ended in the way that traditional toys often were. Play has always unfolded within the limits set by social systems, world views, views of gender and so forth, but now it is the toy itself, in its broader marketing package, which primarily sets the limits, working in with and borrowing from broader social systems, but especially the economic system. Sally Vincent argues that modern playthings are made up of Òpre-packaged fantasiesÉbrand name objects, functionless belongings, group identity kits, images from a promotion scheme that leads to the ultimate in passive acceptance of their totalitarian symbolism.Ó I will return to the totalitarian aspect of the toys shortly. Here the relevance of VincentÕs claim is that the more limited the opportunities are for play and the more over-determined and highly structured toys are, the fewer opportunities there are for negotiation and for other aspects of participation that have been noted to be generally beneficial in childrenÕs play. Critics of modern toys are especially concerned about the decreased opportunities for imagination which they provide. For instance, ÒÉover structured toys, where the designer has already done the thinking, imagining and creating, reduce the possibilities for imaginative ideas and creative acts on the part of the child.Ó Decreased opportunities for participation often go hand in hand with this tendency. Education researcher Lynne Bartholomew, in working with children, found that creative play around flexible props Òencouraged children to negotiate the play script with each other, so that each child felt a sense of belonging and ownership in the play.Ó There was, it seemed, a sense of participation which ran deeper and was more meaningful than the rather more superficial involvement encouraged by overdetermined toys. Bartholomew noted that overstructured toys involved the risk of using less ingenuity and resourcefulness, both of which are useful in co-operation and participatory play. Do modern toys have to be so highly determined? Do they have to have their stories spelt out in such detail that they leave little to childrenÕs imagination and detract from the scope for richer participatory play? According to mechanisms of the market, which ensure that popular toys receive the most massive exposure and carry within themselves the seeds for their own quick redundancy, a high level of sensuality and a closed system of play are essential to the process. The elaborate sensualisation requires over-determination in appearance, so that each toy is highly specific and functional in a precise but extremely narrow way. The Care Bears exemplify the segmentation of tasks and play themes. Instead of a humble teddy bear, this series of bears had their tasks divided up in the same way that the work force had had its tasks heavily segmented and specialised under Taylorism. Whereas one Care Bear was depicted as loving, another had the role of being cheerful, one was fun to be with, etc. The promise made by the typical modern toy is that it will perform a very particular function or strike a very particular image, the reverse side being that it can do very little else. Such toys do not encourage children to seek other functions within the same toy. The type of toy being sold and the marketing hype around it suggest that other toys, with their own highly specific functions, are needed for other play and for other scenarios. Overdetermination in character is therefore essential to the image identity being sought for the toy. Overdetermination in the storyline is equally a part of the marketing process, for any toy that is brought to either the movie or television screen requires its stories to be pre-determined. The toy industry chooses movie and television tie-ins for the exposure they give to toys and for the level of hype they can create. It follows that toys that are either designed or translated for the screen must have their stories pre-written. The toy industry does not lament this. On the contrary, it makes the most of it, as pre-ordained storylines allow manufacturers to work into the stories not only the key characters but many of the accessories and assorted characters that make up the elongated toy lines that exist today. In 1985 the then president of toy company Mattel explained that previously ÒWhen consumers bought one [toy], they didnÕt need another, so from a purely financial point of view, most toys failedÓ in terms of reaching their full market potential. The large toy manufacturing corporations have turned that around so toys now rely heavily on other toys and accessories in the same line. For boys, these lines include mostly male companions, enemies, vehicles and weaponry, while girlsÕ toys have friends, abodes, shops, horses and lots of fashionwear. As toysÕ functions become more specific, children need more of them to compensate for their limitations. Whereas open-ended toys can be brought into play across a wide spectrum of settings and imagined circumstances, function-specific toys can not. Privatising play Another important factor in these toys is their very private and individual nature. This has been achieved not just at the behest of the toy industry, though that industry has certainly taken advantage of this trend. We live in an increasingly privatised world which has put much more emphasis on commodities than relationships and sometimes, due largely to sophisticated forms of advertising, confusion between the two. If it was once thought that a child needed companions in order to be able to play meaningfully, it is now thought that a child needs toys. Moreover, toys often carry names which suggest they stand in for friends or are advertised to suggest this. Some of these include TycoÕs series of soft toy dogs in the My Puppy Loves Me line, Friend Bear in the series of Care Bears, the Natasche doll which was advertised as being Òready to be someoneÕs best friend,Ó and Talking Baby Alive, of whom it was claimed ÒShe will become a special talking friend.Ó Mattel ran an advertisement for Barbie in 1983 under a heading ÒWill you be BarbieÕs friend?Ó After listing some of BarbieÕs considerable accessoriesÑand therefore serving as a reminder that these were available, should a child not have the full rangeÑthe advertisement continued: ÒPink and Pretty Barbie has everything but the one thing she wants most. A true friend. Will you be BarbieÕs friend?Ó So, while such toys as skipping ropes, which can accommodate a great many players, still exist, much of the emphasis in todayÕs toy market is on toys which children are expected to own individually, which they can play with alone and which often make claim to being able to substitute for friends and companions. Toys largely subsume play and restructure it so that participation becomes a much lesser part of play. Children might still play with their toys with friends but they are encouraged by neither the toyÕs prescribed range of play nor the broader social message contained within the toy itself, in which companions are somewhat superfluous. Increasingly gender-specific toys further exacerbate this trend, discouraging children of different sexes from playing together, since these toys construct vast differences in the types of play in which boys and girls are supposed to take part. Obviously, such constraints to participatory play can only detract from childrenÕs development along participatory lines. Adults, too, have become more removed from childrenÕs play. Brian Sutton-Smith notes the paradox that Òthe toy is given so that the child can occupy itself without making any great demands on the parentÕs timeÓ and that this is as true of toys which are Christmas presents as any other given toys, even though Christmas is supposed to be a celebration of togetherness. An article in Advertising Age also noted that parents were buying toys as a means of assuaging their guilt about spending less time with their children. Other social forces have contributed to children being increasingly likely to play alone with their toys. The entrenchment of the small, self-contained family over the extended family and the breaking down of communities have no doubt played their part. To an increasing degree, urban and suburban children at least are expected to play, if not indoors, then in their own yards or in other stringently designated areas. This is partly a response to Òstranger dangerÓ to which television has contributed a growing awareness and exaggerated perception. There are increased pressures on parents to more closely oversee all activities of their children. Children are often chauffeured to organised activities where they may once have walked within the neighbourhood to less formal activities. Perhaps some of the dangers have heightened, such as the increase in cars and the encroachment of highways and major roads so that neighbourhood streets generally have more traffic and carry greater risk. That the trends extend beyond those that are directly to do with the marketplace in no way diminishes the corporate grab for children. Children are now targeted directly, which has meant that toys are advertised in different places and ways and that the toys themselves are now designed to have quite different appeals. With the shift towards more singular play and more individual toys and the social circumstances that encourage this, the well understood benefit to the toy industry is that a lot more toys can be sold to children who largely play by themselves or who, even when playing together, need their very own toys and all the accessories that go with them. All this reduces the quantity and quality of participatory play. Moreover, the problem is not only that children are more likely to play alone, but the wider context where their social lives are dissipating in several areas. Dorothy Singer has noted that ÒWhen grandparents, parents and children live together, they form networks of educational, social, economic and cultural ties and interdependence.Ó She points to studies suggesting that Òchildren who have active contact with their grandparents have a stronger sense of family, values, traditions and self-esteem.Ó ChildrenÕs social networks are increasingly influenced by the marketplace. With the breakdown of many traditional codes, relationships previously built largely by family and community now have an increasing input from the market. To some extent, then, toys now stand in for family or friends both in play and in teaching social roles. The ideological content of popular contemporary toys suggests that commodities are essential and are appropriate solutions to all problems. The toys which claim to be friends, already referred to, are an example of this phenomenon. In such ways, commodities promote themselves in an ongoing spiral, both presenting and claiming to solve problems. Commodities now stand in for communities in many instances and deliver a world view which is largely centred around goods rather than relationships. This brings us to the second aspect of the relationship between toys and participation, the ideological socialisation of children by toys and how that pertains to their understanding of and expectations of participation. Playing ÒoutÓ participation Toys are clearly mechanisms of socialisation. Birgitta Almqvist, for instance, states that gender socialisation through play Òis assumed to influence childrenÕs anticipation of their future adult roles.Ó Just as play delineates roles and acceptable spheres and aims for each gender, we can envisage, too, that play, by either including or restricting socialisation into participatory processes, will give rise to either narrow or broad perceptions of participation and contribute to different sorts of expectations for what is a ÒnormalÓ or desirable level of participation in adult life. I have argued that different toys involve different levels, and sometimes different types, of participation. Traditional play tended towards participation with others and involved application and changing of rules, often by popular agreement, as well as showing a strong emphasis on co-operation. This is much less apparent in play involving modern popular toys, either because the children play alone with their toys or they play with others but the toys are too overdetermined to encourage the full range of participatory possibilities. There is another strong force which may also be working against participation: the ideological content of the toys themselves, much of which derives from the supremacy of the market. Richard Sclove asserts that conventional markets Ònurture egoism, not moral development or citizenship.Ó This is characteristic also of the toys of the marketplace, which heavily emphasise individualism, narcissism and instant gratification and make an extravagantly wasteful and consumerist society seem natural. This is evident in the number of toys which themselves promote commodification and notions that shopping is bliss. There are numerous shops among BarbieÕs accessories, the talking version of that doll asks ÒLetÕs go shopping?Ó and even non-Barbie fans may find games such as Mall Madness in their toy boxes. This promotion of gratification and the other recurring themes is an inherent part of the strategy by which appeal is fostered for just such toys. These commodities therefore contribute to a popular culture which justifies and promotes precisely those attributes which result in their being strong sellers. The promotional aspect does not end there, for, as previously mentioned, there is a great deal of cross-promotion involved in the marketing of toys, so that toys advertise a great many other commodities and entertainments which, in turn, promote the toys. This has so heavily influenced the direction of toys that Òadvertising toys,Ó as so many of these toys can be called, are empty of almost every quality save for purely commercial Òqualities.Ó These promotional objects often have instant appeal which is linked to the advertised company or good. There are a great many toys which advertise McDonaldÕs, Pizza Hut, retailing chains, toy stores, and even other toys put out by the same company. For example, Polly Pocket Barbie promoted a quite separate line of dolls, Polly Pocket, put out by Mattel, the same company which manufactures Barbie. Fisher-Price, now a subsidiary of Mattel, in turn promotes Barbie and Hot Wheels on several pre-schoolersÕ toys. This verifies Andrew WernickÕs claim that Éfor things implicated in a competitive market to be given a self-promotional form is not merely a decorativeÑand dissimulatingÑaddition. It changes their very being. An object which happens to circulate is converted into one which is designed to do so, and is so materially stamped with that character. The ideology of these toys, then, is the ideology of the marketplace and of promotion. The closest they come to encouraging participation or being part of a community is to urge potential consumers to be part of a ÒcommunityÓ that eats at McDonaldÕs, shops at Toys R Us and wears Reebok shoes. (Barbie, for instance, wears Reebok shoes and promotes these companies, among many more.) At a cultural level, realignments are made around products and brand-names. According to Tom Panelas, ÒMuch of what passes as symbolic communality among large and geographically dispersed subcultures is based primarily on consumption patterns.Ó Democracy, as it is defined and practised in its more conservative and limited applications, can be an obstacle to more meaningful participation at a political level, with claims that such participation is impractical, unnecessary or even an interference in the democratic process. Similarly, the marketplace can impede a flowering of participation behind its construction of pseudo-participation. In this way we see the validity of VincentÕs claim that toys are operating in a system of totalitarianism, although this is clearly not the model of totalitarianism commonly portrayed, where there are not enough goods in the marketplace or where the state determines what goods in what numbers are put on the market. This totalitarianism is about the pervasiveness of the toy and its often seedy message which preaches the primacy of commodities, the very system from which the commercial toy itself sprang. ÒVaguely familiar playthings now come with their own book of rules, as though some invincible mastermind has already played with them and determined the parameters of their place in a childÕs life,Ó says Vincent. She uses the example of the toys linked to the wider marketing concept of Judge Dredd to demonstrate that the storylines themselves fit into the totalitarian pattern. ÒDehumanized and licensed to kill he [Judge Dredd] has no emotional being, no personality, no social dimension, no conscience.Ó Dredd lives in Mega-City One, a city he describes as having Ò800 million people and every one of them a potential criminal. The most violent, evil city on EarthÉbut, God help me, I love it.Ó He Òmay enter a citizenÕs home to carry out routine intensive investigation. The citizen has no rights in this matter.Ó Judge Dredd is not alone in providing a much more detailed blueprint for violence than for citizenship and community rights and responsibilities. Many of the toys designed for boys have a militaristic basis and the military, of course, is one arena where participation in decision-making is off the agenda. If girls escape the militarism, they are more likely to be caught up in the appeals to narcissism, with groups of toys promoting vanity, fashion and, once again, shopping. Those toys depicting malls which include fashion and beauty shops can indulge all these narcissistic ideals at once. The idea of community or of groups of people working through problems or situations in co-operative, innovative and sensitive ways is missing completely. Video games are largely given over to killing or assisting a helpless female escape. Those video games which are designed for girls focus on matters such as designing new outfits for Barbie. The rules in these video-games are fixed and allow little chance of working through alternative solutions or different ways of coping with problems. In particular, they discourage collaborative attempts to encompass varying viewpoints towards resolutions. ÒInteractiveÓ video games are far from participatory. Marsha Kinder argues that childrenÕs and teenagersÕ entertainment, consisting of Saturday morning television, home video games, movies and all the commodities that tie in with these, do prepare young players for participation but it is Òparticipation in this new age of interactive multimediaÑspecifically, by linking interactivity with consumerism.Ó This is the pseudo-participation I referred to initially and it demonstrates how the concept of participation has been appropriated and used in the interests of marketing. If participation means only taking part, then yes, there is participation at every glance, with people taking part in the celebration of commodities, the razzamatazz of the market and the rituals of mass consumption. But if participation means taking part in decisions about what technologies and goods should be designed and produced and for whose benefit, then participation is still very rare. Participation has proved a slippery concept indeed and one which has been too easily adapted to the dominant philosophy. Carole Pateman has noted that under fascism there was a tendency for participation to be linked with totalitarianism rather than democracy. Constituents under fascism were swept into a show of solidarity with the regime which had constructed a short, simplistic, superficially exhilarating agenda while trammelling any mechanisms for a more meaningful participation. Now the market is the new totalitarian force, with consumers, including children, being urged to participate. However, the domination of the market is invisible because it comes with a democratic image which belies the grip which it has on people and the paucity of choice that really exists in an arena which is supposed to be all about choice. The totalitarian features are most clearly seen in the ongoing attempts to have everything come under the umbrella of the market so that the needs of the market determine the nature of education, allowable levels of environmental pollution and a great deal more. Each time a crisis arises, the market is looked to provide a solution, even though it is often the root of the problem. Conclusion Toys are a technological arena where the possibilities for participation in and beyond play are diminishing. This is largely due to the changing nature of toys and their dominating role in play. For those designing and manufacturing toys, questions of play are subservient to questions of marketability. Toys are helping reshape play towards less imaginative, more solitary, more commodity-based and more pre-determined activity. Play and toys feature strongly in the socialisation process. Therefore the nature and extent of participation allowed or involved in toy play contribute to a childÕs expectation of participation in future life. Can we seriously expect toys which virtually exclude participation or leave it off the agenda to give rise to citizens who make great claims for participation? If modern toys are contributing to childrenÕs expectations and understanding of participation, then those children are being guided towards a participation which relates only to the marketplace and relationships which are between people and commodities rather than between people and people. To use a market phrase, surely itÕs time to Òshop aroundÓ for a stronger brand of participation and a type of play which will give rise to citizens who might more strongly demand it. Commentary by Lynne Bartholomew* In considering Wendy VarneyÕs chapter, I am faced with a dilemma. As an educationalist I agree with many of the points she makes regarding societal changes, market forces and the pressures these impose on parents and children. As a parent however, I have to confess to having succumbed to that pressure! Action Man was the toy of the moment at the time and became the focus for much sustained play. I remember being charmed to find him tucked up for the night under a rhubarb leaf in the garden, serving as a legitimate doll for my son. It is sad that after a certain age it is considered sissy for boys to play with dolls. In that sense I feel that such toys have a role in the development of childrenÕs imaginative play. Bruce refers to the importance of the transitional object, seeing this as one of the earliest sources of representation: It offers a massive opportunity to any interested adult to understand, enter into and help the child develop his/her representational ability in the play setting. Winnicott (1971) says: ÔThe transitional object represents the infantÕs transition from a state of being merged with the mother to a state of being in relation to the mother as something outside and separate.Õ Action Man can be seen as an extension of earlier play with, for example, a teddy. It would seem well nigh impossible to counter the pressure of market forces but I believe there are ways that parents and educators can foster childrenÕs imagination. I remember a colleague using a My Little Pony and a Barbie Doll as story props for the legend of Pegasus to an entranced class of 3 and 4 year olds who had English as a second language. In this way, she not only took the children into history and mythology, but also illustrated how such toys can be used in rich and different ways. Providing children with natural materials so that conventional toys can be used alongside them helps children to become creative thinkers. Mud used as icing on a leaf makes a fine tea for Barbie! The work of Athey, Bruce and Nutbrown on schemas or patterns in learning and development gives much insight into why children opt for certain toys at particular stages. Identifying these schemas and using the knowledge helps informed adults to make provision that will enhance and enrich childrenÕs learning. It seems that the prospect could be a gloomy one when looking at play, toys and participation. To take a constructivist stance, as with the examples cited, it is to be hoped that there are enough interested and committed adults to at least counter the onslaught of unsuitable toys that are currently being marketed. The greatest hope lies in the children themselves having the resourcefulness to use toys and other materials with flair and imagination. Commentary by Sudarshan Khanna* Talking of toys, our mind seems to rush to the neatly packaged things in toy shops and stores. Yet in countries like India, the majority of children still donÕt have access to these mass marketed Ògood looking toys.Ó The culture of toys made by children and artisans is now struggling to survive. I have often noticed that it is the self-made or even artisan-made toys that bring a sparkle to the eyes of children, rich or poor. I remember that, as children, we used to spend happy hours in playing with toys like a leaf flute. We just rolled the right type of leaf in the right manner and blew it in a particular way to create sounds and music. The fun part was also to compare the sounds, and to help teach younger ones. Even today, in every part of the world, you will find children making and playing with paper aeroplanes, watching each one for its gliding performance. We can make a long list of the value and worth of these priceless toys. Earlier children had access to another alternative source for toys. Just twenty years ago, many fairs all over India used to be like roadside toy expositions. The fairs had many indigenous toy makers, as well as stalls selling mass-produced cheap plastic toys. Today the toy makers are being replaced by stalls selling the same stuff. There is also the organised toy industry, growing every year. This sector operates much like Òcommodity toyÓ manufacturers elsewhere. I liked reading Wendy VarneyÕs chapter. Many of us have been voicing our concern over the erosion of our heritage of indigenous playthings. I am not against the modern, mass produced, mass marketed toys but deeply concerned over the decline of self-made and artisan-made toys. I am convinced that mono-cultured, market-driven toys are not only expensive but have a limited role to play, and these cannot replace the timeless, popular creative playthings made through the genius of generations of people. VarneyÕs well researched chapter has clearly brought out the less known Òother sideÓ of the Ògood looking toysÓ: that most of the fancy, highly promoted commodity toys are devoid of real play participation and that an elaborate, highly advertised, pseudo-participation is being sold for genuine participation. The motives and methods adopted by the present-day entertainment and commodity promotion industry have been revealed in a forthright manner. They include the promotion of privatisation of play, the subtle advancement of the individual ego and greed, and the social and ideological context of the belief that mere products can replace friends and peers. Varney has been systematic and forthright in bringing out the inadequate, the negative and even the harmful aspects of the glossy Òadvertised-commodityÓ toys. But these are products of the present time and present-day minds. While I agree with the broad perspective, I think the main problem is that today we are totally replacing diverse indigenous cultures. ÒThis or that,Ó Òget the bestÓ seems to be the approach. The ÒbestÓ often gets mixed up with Òlatest, the most faddish and the conveniently available.Ó Otherwise, how do we explain giving inferior or even questionable play material to our children? This is so in spite of the fact that today more parents are ÒeducatedÓ and there are more people professing an interest in Òchild developmentÓ research. How do we go ahead? In general it is necessary to promote diversity and indigenous development. It is important to realise that modern mass-marketed mono-cultural toys cannot replace the indigenous ones but that they will and can co-exist. The telephone as a participatory mechanism at a local government level Lyn Carson* Introduction I served as an elected representative on Lismore City Council (LCC). During that time I undertook research (for a doctoral thesis) on consultative methods. I had wanted to test participatory theory in action and had a particular interest in innovative methods such as policy juries, mediation, listening posts and so on. These face-to-face participatory mechanisms had an advantage over technology-mediated mechanisms as they conformed to Benjamin BarberÕs definition of deliberative democracy. However, it is useful to focus on the characteristics of technology-mediated participatory mechanisms because of their potential to provide a useful adjunct to face-to-face mechanisms in the pursuit of genuine democracy. The telephone, ubiquitous in the Western world at least, offers both immersiveness and interactivity and comes closest to satisfying the goal of deliberative democracy. This chapter describes the use of the telephone as a technological mediator in participatory mechanisms. Teledemocracy, which often uses a combination of television and computer technology, might allow for the involvement of larger numbers of citizens and could be described as being either immersive (television) or interactive (computers). The commonplace telephone is a form of technology which does both, albeit in the auditory dimension alone. This chapter will survey the uses of the humble telephone as a participatory mechanism in local government. Because elected representatives and community members continue to focus on various, often sophisticated, methods of consultation and participation, I will explore some essential tools for the improvement of decision making. Whatever technology is used to facilitate participation, it will not improve the quality of decisions unless attention is paid to the constraints which prevent effective decision making from occurring. These toolsÑrelationship building, questioning and listeningÑare clearly best practised with technologies which can replicate a virtual reality through the combination of immersiveness and interactivity. The establishment of closer relationships rather than the creation of new ways with which to consult might lead to better decisions, whether the decision makers are using face-to-face or technology-mediated approaches. We might do well to focus on an approach which could best be described as Heart Politics. Background Having been unexpectedly elected to LCC for a four-year term in 1991, I embarked on a steamroller approach to community consultation with my two female Community Independent colleagues. I was formerly an activist advocating greater participation in decision making so my colleagues and I were intent on increasing the existing level of consultation. We did so without a great deal of planning or consideration about the effectiveness of the measures for which we were arguing. Simultaneously, however, I researched a doctoral thesis on the topic of public participation in the local government decision-making process. Part of this research involved my Community Independent colleagues in an Action Learning Team and this helped to clarify our thinking about the methods we were advocating. By analysing the part which power holders (elected representatives, senior staff) played in community consultation, the focus began to shift. By evaluating my own performance and the performance of my colleagues, I began to unravel the real impediments to effective decision making. It became increasingly clear to me that the two most absorbing questions in the consultative experience of activists rarely included a more important question. The two prevailing questions I found were: (1) Can we resolve the Òparticipatory dilemmaÓ (that is, whether or not citizens should participate or to what extent they should be consulted)? (2) What method of consultation should be used? I saw both questions as futile unless they were coupled with a most important additional question: How can we reduce those constraints which make up a rather large and somewhat impenetrable wall which stands between decision makers and effective decision making? (See illustration on the front cover.) We need to ask two questions. Why do we participate or wish to encourage or refine participation processes? Do we wish to participate in discussions or to participate in decision making? Anything that is less than the latter falls short of the democratic ideal. Though participation is also about building communities and empowering citizens and many similarly vague notions, it is ultimately about making better decisions. Defining what is better is of course sometimes quite problematic and can be a highly politicised act. Yet the theory of decision making, social change and public participation is most often involved with shifting power from one set of decision makers to another. Little emphasis is placed on how decisions are made or on the constraints which exist for all decision makers or on how these constraints might be overcome. The work of American social researcher Fran Peavey provides a framework for understanding political activism by presenting a set of attitudes, values and principles. Her wisdom and practical advice proved more worthwhile than all the political writings I explored. The nub of PeaveyÕs work is this: É itÕs easier to be prejudiced against people youÕve never met. Fear and hatred can thrive in the abstract. But most of us, if given a protected situation and a personal connection to the people we thought we feared and hated, will come through as compassionate human beings. Instead of adopting an adversarial, siege mentality, Peavey recommends a path between cynicism and na•vetŽ. PeaveyÕs book Heart Politics has been influential for activists in questioning their value base. PeaveyÕs language is the language of negotiation, resolution, compromise, liberation and creativity. When Peavey speaks of power, she speaks of it as connectedness, as having power with people, rather than over people. Prior to my election I was aware of many successful attempts by activists (including me) to employ the principles of Heart Politics but I was able to use them in a completely different role as an elected representative. Since Peavey is an activist she speaks as one outside the corridors of power. I found myself inside these corridors (albeit within the tame portals of local government), trying to use similar tactics. My whole modus operandi as a councillor was based on a Òheart politicalÓ approach. The key to my research findings could be expressed in two words: relationship building. As a feminist woman I inevitably conducted my research and my Council work in a distinctively different way to my male colleagues. Perhaps not surprisingly, the essential tool which facilitated much of my work was the one with which women are so clearly familiar: the good old telephone. The telephone has a history of relationship building amongst women; what better tool to help me change my local government world? The telephone As I undertook my research, the power of communication and personal contact became obvious. The humble and ubiquitous telephone was the technological tool which proved to be the most valuable. It is humble because of its familiarity and its ease of use; less humble is the sophisticated technology which sustains it. My research was being completed in a regional area in Australia and the telephone is a significant means of breaking down isolation in such areas. It was an instrument with which I felt considerable comfort. It is simple to use, offers anonymity and familiarity (depending on oneÕs need), and it allowed me to step inside homes (at least via the telephone line) where I would otherwise not have been invited. I had formerly run an information research business for many years in a capital city and was constantly surprised by the extent to which people would divulge quite personal information to a stranger over the phone. In the same way, colleagues who had shown considerable resistance to my political or ideological approach opened up to me as an ÒinterviewerÓ with a telephone between us. The telephone was used in a number of areas of my doctoral research and the positive results were repeated each time. Community members were frank and loquacious with my research assistants who asked them survey questions by phone. CouncilÕs mediator used the telephone to good effect when making initial contact with opponents in a dispute. The telephone was an important point of contact for those who had been randomly selected to be part of citizen panels. Perhaps this openness equates with what at least one researcher sees as the more private nature of telephone conversations over those conducted face-to-face. This would certainly be true of male colleagues who might not have wanted to be associated publicly with any of Òthe three womenÓ (a phrase they often used to describe us). When considering the possibilities offered by technological methods of participation, nothing seemed to compare with the reliable telephone with a warm, human voice at each end. Claude S. Fischer, in his comprehensive social history of the telephone in America up until World War II, showed that the adoption of the telephone probably led people to hold more frequent personal conversations with friends and kin than had previously been customary. He notes in particular the importance of the telephone to rural women and, like Ann Moyal in her Australian research, noted the significantly different use which men and women make of the telephone. Moyal might have been surveying the women of my own regional, rural community, such is the similarity between her findings and my own experience. She noted that for rural Australian women the telephone is not just a route to distant family but is vital for emergencies. Country women were also seen to use the telephone for community networking and caring, much of which went unheeded from a policy making perspective. The telephone replaces transport on many occasions and Òtelephone neighbourhoodsÓ were described. Clearly the telephone is an excellent means by which a relationship can be built. It has been referred to as a Òtechnology of sociability,Ó and this relationship building became a central focus of my research. In my four years on Council I steadily began to confirm the notion that it is the existence of relationship which unlocks the door between an existing belief and the acceptance of a new belief, that is, that change is often dependent on the existence of trust. Lana Rakow talks about the telephone as gendered technology. Her study of womenÕs relationship to the telephone in a small midwestern US community has many parallels with Australian communities. Not just a mechanical device, the telephone is shown to be a system of social relationships and practices which has largely been ignored by scholars: That the telephone has been seen as a trivial and beneficent technology says more about scholarsÕ perception of women than about the telephone or womenÕs experiences with it. Rakow noted that womenÕs use of the telephone was related to their restricted mobility and to decisions, often not of their own making, about where they live and what opportunities are available to them. Using the Australian context, Ann Moyal describes the experience of some Aboriginal women living in remote outstations and the way in which Aboriginal men dominated the telephone. Aboriginal women blamed this on the Òwhite manÓ who Òcontaminated Aboriginal manÕs attitude to womenÓ; when the women asked to use the outpost telephone they were told that Òmen must go first.Ó Telephone calls can be critical for the continuation of relationships which cannot be physically sustained. There are other aspects of the telephone which make it important for society in general, beyond relationship building. Research done in relation to the telephone does not stop with gender. Researchers have looked at the history of its widespread acceptance, the technological advances, its power as a therapeutic medium and the isolation caused by its absence. The telephone is also playing a role in providing support and assistance for latchkey children via community telephone Òwarmlines.Ó The telephone is used to provide supportive therapy, involving social workers offering therapy which might otherwise not be pursued, leaving clients isolated, but for the use of the telephone. Family difficulties can be exacerbated in the absence of a telephone, particularly in the event of domestic violence. The telephone is an important tool in an educational setting. I use it extensively in my teaching work with external students. It allows me to assist and counsel students at a distance. I regularly conduct teleconferences to link far-flung students and learning partnerships are encouraged via the telephone. Students are able to make oral presentations by telephone as part of their assessment. The telephone is a medium that offers a more equal relationship between student and teacher. The student derives comfort from being in their own surroundings instead of being in a lecture or tutorial room within the teacherÕs Òterritory.Ó Of course, comfortable or nurturing exchanges by telephone are not always the case. There are annoyances and even terror attached to telephone use, again in particular for women. One American survey revealed that the majority of women surveyed had received an obscene phone call and another Canadian survey placed the figure as high as 83%. Rather than increasing social relationships, such calls are the source of anger, fear, disgust and degradation for women. Fear for women is further evidenced when one looks at ownership patterns of cellular phones. Though ownership is more concentrated in the hands of men, the majority of women purchasing mobile phones do so in order to feel more secure when away from their homes. In one survey, most women were shown to have been given the mobile phone by their spouse for safety reasons in the gendered role of husband as protector. It could be argued that the mobile phone presents an obstacle to community rather than a facilitator of it, particularly when a mobile phone interrupts the private and public space of others. The person receiving the call is removed from their immediate community and half of a very public conversation is imposed on reluctant listeners. Ordinary telephones are also sometimes perceived as harassing. The convenience of having access to others means that they can have access to you, whether the callers are unknown sales people or oneÕs friends and relatives. Increased sociability can be a mixed blessing. Despite the telephoneÕs massive infiltration into the family home, its coverage is still not total. In one study it was found that the single most influential factor in predicting the presence of a telephone in the US home is income. Low penetration rates were found among women single heads of households as well as amongst African Americans and Hispanics. The telephone has pitfalls too. The use of the telephone was shown to be problematic when its use became widespread amongst political leaders. Sir Paul Hasluck, a former Australian Governor-General, condemned the telephone as Òthat great robber of historyÓ because of the importance of a historical record and the different interpretations that can be placed upon a telephone conversation. The telephone affords a special privacy but generates no record of its own. More recently, political scandals have uncovered the vulnerability of intentional telephone tapping and unintentional eavesdropping (particularly when talking on mobile phones). As a participatory tool it can lead to exclusive and influential lobbying of politicians. Furthermore it has little value alone as a broad-based participatory mechanism. Other technologies In my own experience with the regular use of email and the Internet, with which I and my university colleagues have become enchanted and entranced, I have watched a tendency towards the formation of ghettos of like-minded people. (The reverse of this is also occasionally evident with the formation of respectful relationships among those with divergent opinions.) I donÕt necessarily see this as an example of the apparent inevitability or Òtragedy of technology.Ó It disturbs me, though, to note that if the viewpoints of participants vary, we now simply ÒtrashÓ the deviants. We can happily recoil from exposure to opposing views in a way which is not so easy with the telephone or face-to-face contact. It is more difficult and has more immediate consequences if one slams down the phone or walks away. Although the telephone provides the means to involve more than two parties, for example through teleconferencing, it is not seen as a means by which large numbers of participants might be involved. For this to occur, practitioners in the political arena begin to speak of mechanisms such as televoting (electronic voting or electronic town meetings) or teledemocracy. This method usually involves televised proceedings coupled with a phone-in facility to enable participants to have their vote on an issue which can be instantly recorded. The phone is sometimes used but its position is no longer pre-eminent. It is used to register a vote, not for its interactive or immersive qualities. Benjamin Barber advocates teledemocracy as a means of large scale decision making involving new communications and information technology. It has been argued by others that, in terms of its ability to deliver genuine democracy, the advantages of teledemocracy might not outweigh the disadvantages. As a potential system for providing instant and regular voting it has merit but teledemocracy does not provide a forum in which deliberative democracy might be enacted. Electronic methods can be appropriate for small-scale democratic decision making, such as trade union decisions where a dispersed membership must ÒmeetÓ to discuss issues and vote on motions as they are put. This method is being utilised increasingly by trade unions in Australia, where unions themselves are centralised and their membership widely dispersed, and where the technologyÑvideo link-up via satelliteÑis a feature of most large clubs and hotels. This method allows for at least limited interaction and relationship building. A variation on electronic voting is computer conferencing which allows instantaneous communication between a large number of participants across a country or across the world. Messages can be typed into a computer then retrieved by participants at their own convenience. The potential of computer conferencing is for rapid resolution of national problems or mass input into large-scale planning from citizens with varying degrees of knowledge and diverse backgrounds. However, the widespread use of computer conferencing is dependent on participantsÕ familiarity with the technology and their willingness to use it. Scott London offers a comparative analysis of teledemocracy and deliberative democracy which is critical when thinking about the telephone as a deliberative mechanism. London considers that the rationale for teledemocracy is consistent with an approach founded on a Òmarketplace conception of the political world.Ó By contrast, he sees deliberative democracy as being É rooted in the ideal of self-governance in which political truths emerge not from the clash of pre-established interests and preferences but from reasoned discussion about issues involving the common good. London sees speed as being inimical to deliberative democracy. He notes that democracy is based on the principle of dialogue, not monologue, and that quality, not quantity, is the measure of democratic participation. The telephone comes into its own when dialogue is considered as a prerequisite. There is constant tension between the importance of relationship/community building and the need to make frequent, hurried decisions. Our world is moving at a pace unlike that experienced by our ancestors or by cultures who had the luxury of leisurely deliberation which might or might not result in a decision. Getting a quick response or clarifying a point urgently by telephone is essential in decision making but such speed is snail-like compared with the speed of other electronic media. Television, radio and computers can provide instant, widespread communication without delays due to wrong numbers or the need for small talk or relationship building. Much of this speed may be attributable to the economic base on which our society is built to the detriment of what Eva Cox terms Òa truly civil society.Ó We need to be wary of using a fast and efficient consultative method to feed this need for speed, to the detriment of effective decision making. Electronic methods of consultation and participation have limited success in replicating aspects of face-to-face interaction. Radio and television reproduce auditory and/or visual dimensions but are not interactive. Fax and email messages are largely mediated through the printed word. Though a computer might be interactive it is not immersive. The telephone is blessed with a relationship-building capacity. Nevertheless electronic methods can offer us a great deal including a decentralised approach to decision making. This is good but it is not enough. Can we have a truly civil society in the absence of strong relationships and their familiar technological companions such as the telephone? My belief is that we cannot. Relationship building The significance of building relationships, the wall of constraints which I gradually constructed as a model, the tools for dismantling the wall, the importance of listening to everyone, have all been influenced in some way by PeaveyÕs Heart Politics work. A mnemonic for me when I embarked on any project was often Òwill this lead to connection?ÓÑconnection between myself and others or devising a process that would allow for connection between residents and staff or representatives. This mnemonic alerted me to an early recognition of the importance of building bridges, as well as to the existence of the syndrome I came to recognise as Òspot the baddie.Ó It is difficult to locate a better technology for connection than the telephone. Indeed, the term ÒtelecommunicationÓ means Òdistant connection.Ó The telephone was essential for the development of relationships between myself and my two closest colleagues. We would have a phone link up (or a PLU as we came to know it) at least once a fortnight, often more frequently than that. One Community Independent councillor was a single parent, living forty minutes drive out of town. Without this ability to link with each other spontaneously and regularly we would have been less organised and united in our approach to Council affairs. The PLUs allowed us to allocate tasks so that our many time-consuming jobs could be shared. These tasks often involved research and the phone again became our ally, as we phoned other councils, peak organisations and government departments beyond our own regional city. Our regular telephone contact also ensured that we supported each other. When our spirits were low (usually because abuse was high) we could track one another down by phone. It also provided a vehicle for self- and peer-evaluation, two areas which were found to be lacking in most everyone I interviewed during my researchÑcouncillors, staff and community members alike. We became quite proud of the level of our concern for, and accountability to, each other and to our support group: the Friends of Community Independents (FOCI). We felt that we raised questioning and listening to an art form. Questioning Strategic Questioning is an important aspect of Heart Politics and an important tool for change which goes beyond relationship building. Peavey suggests that what we know of life is only where we have decided to rest with our questioning. Those who ask questions cannot avoid answers. If we rest with where we are and what we know, we miss the chance of working on a new discovery. Peavey recognises the power of approaching a problem with the feeling of ÒI donÕt know.Ó Perhaps it is not our ignorance that is the problem, it is clinging to what we know. Peavey, with the help of a friend, Mark Burch, began to see two kinds of communication. Communication of the first kind is about what is. It usually involves the transmission of information in a static or passive way. There is an assumption of inertia in the communicationÉ Communication of the second kind is focused on what reality could be. It creates information rather than communicating what is already known Éthe immersion of the person in a vibrating, tingling, undulating ocean of ÔtransactionsÕ É I see strategic questioning as an important skill in the development of this communication of the second kind. According to Peavey, learning how to ask strategic questions is a path of transforming passive and fearful inquiry into a dynamic exploration of the information around us and the solutions we need. I had been familiar with similar concepts such as open- and closed-ended questions but PeaveyÕs technique takes questioning in a more far-reaching way. Strategic Questioning requires much more empathy and a willingness to let go of oneÕs belief in the answer, to mutually explore answers with the person being questioned. The skill was invaluable to me in formulating the questions I asked in my research and was used with my Action Learning Team. It was the basis of all the telephone research which I completed with the exception of some quantitative data collection. The results confirmed the significance of Strategic Questioning as a tool for social change. It encouraged new ideas and previously unspoken solutions to emerge. I often found myself replacing the telephone receiver and saying ÒwowÓ after fresh possibilities had been mutually discovered. The telephone allowed me to be undistracted in my note taking because I was not being watched. I did not have to dress neatly for interviews or feel self-conscious about my body language. It provided a relaxed environment in which the participant and I could explore new ideas. Questioning is often manifested as a poll or a questionnaire and citizen surveys are enthusiastically supported by many researchers. Though I conducted a number of surveys throughout this research project I became wary of the way in which decision makers would happily ignore survey findings if lobbied, usually by phone, to change their position. The possible inaccuracies inherent in surveys and polling also became clear. There were some occasions when the telephone was less effective than human contact. By conducting surveys door-to-door or face-to-face, using Strategic Questioning techniques I became much more satisfied with the results as did the respondents who were far less likely to want to reverse the decisions that were based on surveys completed in this way. Benjamin Barber warns against the dangers of seeking undeliberated responses through surveys or polls, often conducted by telephone, and the way in which they can encourage individualism to the detriment of civic responsibility. There is no common discourse, no political interaction, no rational constraintÑjust a blurting out of wishes and wants, biases and prejudices, desires and needs. The subjects of surveys are always assumed to be interested individuals, never citizens. The questions are never phrased: ÔAs a citizen, what do you think would be beneficial to the community to which you belong?Õ Rather, they boil down to ÔWhaddaya want, huh?Õ Listening An integral part of Strategic Questioning and an essential aspect of relationship building is an ability to genuinely listen. Without this ability there is no opportunity to move forward by building on the responses that are heard in order to create change and there is little opportunity for strengthening relationships. The importance of listening is well covered in communications and group theory. In discussing the possibility of institutionalising the procedures and conditions of communication, Simone Chambers makes the point that ÒEveryone might have the opportunity to speak, but if no one is listening, the result is chaos.Ó Power holders do a lot of talking: speech making, debate, media interviews, berating staff, placating community members. They do much less listening. For example, at one public meeting I attended in a nearby shire, I timed the speakers: the chair, audience participants and councillors. Even though the councillors were not guest speakers, had not convened the meeting and were not chairing the meeting they absorbed three times as much time as the audience participants. The telephone does not guarantee that good listening skills will be practised but it helps. Reducing the number of distractions can be an important aid to good communication. Because three of my Council colleagues were hearing impaired, I found a significant impediment to good face-to-face or group communication could be instantly removed if we spoke by phone. Listening is a topic which I never tired of exploring because it had so much relevance to both my research work and to the rest of my life. It proved to be a panacea for so many ills. It is fundamental to the idea of a democratic personality, to the success of mediation, to the effectiveness of social change and to an awareness of the negative consequences of power. Power holders without listening skills are destined to fail their constituents, yet these skills were often absent. Listening can add another dimension to responsibility: responsiveness. Camilla Stivers thinks this responsiveness would Òreduce the tension between administrative effectiveness and democratic accountability, both in theory and in practice.Ó Brenda UelandÕs research on womenÕs distinctive ways of knowing showed that, due to their gendered socialisation and cultural expectations, women are generally better listeners. UelandÕs observations were duplicated by me as I watched and listened to older, male elected representatives who seemed incapable of being silent long enough to hear, so anxious were they to respond. Thankfully, listening skills were evident in other men who I encountered in the political sphere so I was relieved to note that oneÕs sex need not determine oneÕs ability to listen. Perhaps this is why women have such comparative ease with the telephone. Some community members who participated in LCCÕs Public Access sessions commented that female councillors listened to them when they nervously addressed Council. Male councillors, in contrast, were observed reading, writing or talking to others. Similarly, community members reported that they had felt Òlistened toÓ by the women councillors when they rang to lobby their representatives. As a result of my reading I began to appreciate the rare periods of silence. I had always felt discomforted by silence but began to value the richness of non-speech when it occurred. I noted, for example, that in groups made up of Australian indigenous people, silence was much more apparent than in local government gatherings. I am intrigued by the worthiness of silence in the consultative process but found few opportunities to employ and evaluate it. Conclusion The literature review I undertook and the action research which I completed to test participatory theory in action revealed to me a number of inappropriate behaviours: that people are treated as though they are their roles; that power must be over others instead of with them; that we indulge in spotting the ÒbaddiesÓ; that we make frequent and hurried decisions to the detriment of a civil society. Writers such as Fran Peavey offered practical methods which could be applied to my local government world; Strategic Questioning and listening skills informed many of my trials. Relationship building and the need for connectedness provided an early recognition of the importance of building bridges. The technology which proved not only useful but essential for me as a researcher and as an elected representative was the humble telephone which allowed for skilled questioning, listening and deliberation. Having unearthed writing about the need we have to satisfy our hunger for community and the catalytic effect which community building can have on change, I was able to apply relationship building in the community context. Friendship and unconditional positive regard found their rightful place in my political circle. My own research with my Action Research Team confirmed the value of relationship and trust building in a political environment and the importance of the telephone in achieving this. The research convinced me that political structures will never be changed in a sustainable way without attending to the hearts of those inside the structures. Decision makers without listening skills would seem to be destined to fail their constituents. In choosing a participatory mechanism to assist in the making of effective decisions, attention should be paid to the presence of a technology or medium that will allow the above skills to be realised. While being aware of culturally-specific limitations, the telephone has historically-tested, impeccable credentials. Acknowledgments: My thanks to those who commented on drafts for this chapter: Wendy Varney, Miriam Solomon, Andy Monk, Brian Martin, Stuart White and Kath Fisher. Commentary by Ann Moyal* It has been fascinating to learn from Lyn CarsonÕs chapter of the role the old Òpots and panÓ telephone can, and has in her experience, come to play in building strong consultative and relational links between policy-maker and public. It is particularly rewarding to me as an early researcher on the role of women and the telephone in Australia to discover that womenÕs listening skills, enshrined in their telephone talk, have contributed notably to the building of direct and warm relationships between the Council member and the respondent as ÒcitizenÓ. ÒThe humble telephone,Ó Carson writes, ÒÉallowed for skills of questioning, listening and deliberation.Ó ÒIt was an instrument with which I felt considerable comfort. It offers anonymity and familiarity (depending on oneÕs need), and it allowed me to step inside homes É where I would not otherwise have been invited.Ó Such skills in the feminine culture of Òlistening and deliberationÓ have, alas, been severely underestimated and neglected by federal politicians and telecommunication policy makers. Yet from an ethnographic study of 200 women of all backgrounds, ages and situations in Australia, it was apparent that the telephone communication of women in its function of kinkeeping, nurturing, volunteering and friendship has contributed to building a support system that underlies the health, development and progress of the nation. CarsonÕs study carries this theme of personal connectedness, of Òintimacy at a distanceÓ which the telephone establishes, into the realm of participatory democracy where her account both of her own use of the technology for discussion among her working (women) colleagues and, as a means of deliberative discussion with constituents (again notably women), marks an important contribution to this gender field. More broadly, she reports from her research and practice that the telephone, with the use of Òstrategic questioningÓ based on asking, listening and readiness to shed old viewpoints, opened up fresh possibilities and Òprovided a relaxed environment in which the participant and I could explore new ideas.Ó The ubiquitous telephone, she concludes, with its immersiveness and interactivity, Òcomes closest to satisfying the goal of deliberative democracy.Ó Clearly this methodology works most fruitfully in the more informal arena of people-oriented council policy-making than its application in state or federal power structures might induce. Yet the thrust of CarsonÕs approach as a Councillor, through relationship building, questioning and listening, could, I believe, most usefully be transferred to a mechanism I have long advocated for injecting womenÕs views into national telecommunication policy through the establishment of a WomenÕs Advisory Telecommunication Council to assist bureaucrats and carriers on social aspects of telecommunication change. On one point only, I differ from the author. Despite the value of US social researcher Fran PeaveyÕs book Heart Politics and her persuasive linking of power with Òconnectedness,Ó let us not adopt the sentimental title Òheart politicsÓ for this form of policy approach in Australia. ÒPhonpoliticsÓ perhaps? Commentary by Wendy Sarkissian* Lyn CarsonÕs work makes a highly significant contribution to the growing Australian literature on community participation. She extends the discourse in important new ways. Particularly in rural areas and in times of economic stringency, local councils need to explore participatory processes for achieving presence at a distance. Yes, the humble telephone offers many opportunities. This approach offers an antidote to highly problematic ÒhothouseÓ techniques such as charrettes, those popular fast-paced Òdesign-inÓ workshops favoured by some architects, councils and developers. They risk reduced participation because of compressed time periods, inadequate time for reflection, ÒrailroadingÓ the process, and problems with unrepresentativeness of stakeholders. CarsonÕs telephone participation certainly addresses some of these concerns, particularly time for reflection. As a fan of PeaveyÕs and CarsonÕs work on strategic questioning, I was surprised to find myself feeling somewhat unsatisfied with CarsonÕs chapter. Two concerns arose, neither one strong enough to discredit CarsonÕs model but perhaps meriting some consideration. First, what about urban people? So many of us feel harassed by the telephone; engage in Òphone tagÓ; live our lives through voice mail and answering machines; and screen calls before answering them. We dread telephone marketing surveys, that bright voice at the end of a harrowing day. How effective would the telephone be in encouraging us to participate in local affairs? I sigh when my home telephone rings. Not an auspicious start to a participatory process! My second concern is captured by DarrylÕs bumbling lawyer in The Castle, that wonderful Australian film about home as mirror of self. The lawyer stammers to explain the relevance of the Constitution: ItÕs the vibe of it. Just the vibe of it. In participatory processes, I work largely Òwith the vibe,Ó finding myself in another dimension. Entranced, I am sensing what is happening, processing visual, auditory and kinaesthetic clues. Are we moving toward agreement? Is collaboration possible? How does it feel? WhatÕs the vibe of it? On countless occasions, I have sensed things shift, the energy change, as something I cannot describe struggles into form. Sometimes I call it a Òhealing impulse.Ó The urge to cooperate. I am certain Carson and Fran have sensed this, too, and marvelled at its power. ItÕs primarily a sensory experience. At these times I need all my senses. I listen with my third ear. Glimpse it with eyes in the back of my head. Sense with my skin. ItÕs embodied, palpable and certainly real. Whatever it is. The telephone admits some of this, to be sure. I just hope that, in these impoverished times, we wonÕt lose all our opportunities for those community moments when the vibe shifts and something collaborativeÑand wonderfulÑstruggles to be born. Commentary by Monica Wolf* ÒNow the telephone business has become strong, its next anxiety must be able to develop the virtues and not the defects of strength.Ó Herbert Casson, who wrote this in 1910, would be heartened by Lyn CarsonÕs testament to the virtues of the telephone. The centrality of the phone in CarsonÕs work presents a vital argument for a reassessment of the ÒhumbleÓ phone in political participation. CarsonÕs exploration of the phoneÕs capabilities to improve decision-making presents something of a challenge. On an individual level, the phone is such an intrinsic part of our daily work and domestic lives that we rarely, if ever, step back to assess its impact or potential. This is also the case on a sociological level, where research on the phone is akin to Òthinking about the invisible.Ó As Carson notes, there are certain inherent qualities of the phone that predispose it to being a useful tool in the building of relationships. But beyond this, is the phone a neutral tool able to be applied without bias? Over the last 120 years, the phone has been imbued with clear norms, and modes of use are highly differentiated. The three well-known norms decree that if the phone rings, you are obliged to answer; if you answer you are obliged to respond and participate; and terminating the call is the role of the caller, not the recipient. Inherent power, it seems, lies with the caller, a fact well exploited over the years by various sellers, surveyors and the like. As Carson implies, phone use often reflects and reinforces unfortunate social realities, such as gender inequality and social disadvantage. Rules governing access also apply. In the non-domestic sphere, power relativities dictate if, when and to whom calls are made, taken or returned. Senior government officials rarely take the direct calls of, say, a community representative. They tend to return them, if at all, within a period of time that one could surmise reflects the relative status given to the call. If a ÒsuperiorÓ does call, it is likely to be mediated by a secretary making the initial connection. Perhaps a reinforcement of the status differential? Society, as Herbert Casson predicted, has ÒÉ fit telephony like a garment around the habits of the people.Ó And amongst those habits are those that Carson rejects: power over others rather than with and people being Òtreated as though they are their roles.Ó So how does all this relate to the phone as a participatory tool? Firstly, who calls who really matters. CarsonÕs entrŽe to Òthe portals of powerÓ elevated the activist to a peer, with rights of access and reception. This might suggest that the phone as a participatory tool in general is most effective where power relations are equal. Secondly, the motives of the caller are crucial. The caller as an activist and advocate of participative decision making will adhere to the principles of equality and objectivity. But the caller as a political number-cruncher will work to the opposite end and exploit the fact that the phone can be just as easily used to manipulate or subvert the participative process. Which brings us back to the most important point Carson makes, a point that is so often overlooked in enthusiastic Òhow toÕsÓ on participation: ÒWhatever technology is used to facilitate participation, it will not improve the quality of decisions unless attention is paid to the constraints which prevent effective decision making from occurring.Ó Lap-tops against communicative democracy: international non- governmental organisations and the World Bank Miriam Solomon* 1. Introduction International non-governmental organisations (INGOs) frequently invoke arguments for the democratisation of the institutions they are attempting to influence. However, in their own organisational structures they themselves find that following democratic principles is very challenging. Furthermore, their work is vitally dependent on communication technologies, but these technologies are not independent of their social context, for they reflect and consolidate unequal power relations, and in certain senses exacerbate the already enormous obstacles for democratic participation in the global public sphere. In this chapter I outline a model of communicative democracy and describe a matrix of power relations amongst INGOs campaigning against the World Bank, to ask two questions: what does a model of communicative democracy have to offer for interpreting this case study material, and what does a study of the role of technology in global participation reveal about the model? 2. Background: INGOs and the World Bank eyeball to eyeball Madrid, October 1994 Thousands of economists, government officials and other stakeholders gather in a multimillion dollar conference centre, built for this occasion. Spain feels privileged to be hosting the prestigious 50th anniversary celebrations of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF). The Spanish Queen will inaugurate the auspicious occasion. INGOs are likewise gathering for their own parallel conference, ÒAlternative Forum: Other Voices of the Planet.Ó I am here to join thousands of activists from around the world who are coming to protest against the devastating results of the World BankÕs policies towards the so-called ÒdevelopingÓ countries. The much touted ÒdevelopmentÓ model, imbued as it is with modernist conceptions of reason and progress, has been a monumental failure. International ÒdebtÓ and the debacle of Òstructural adjustment,Ó as it is euphemistically termed, continues to drain many times more money from the Òthird worldÓ than the so-called ÒaidÓ which is sold to them, conditions attached. The World Bank is one of the most powerful institutions in the contemporary world. Its model of aid becomes, frequently, the imposition onto ÒdevelopingÓ countries of inappropriate technologies such as large dams or highly polluting coal plants that devastate local, social and environmental systems. The result, many say, is further poverty, starvation, social dislocation, homelessness, disease, environmental destruction and even, the INGOs claim, the Bosnian war and the Rwandan holocaust. The affected people and their supporters are outraged. The operations of the World Bank, the INGOs claim, systematically violate sovereign rights of nations, human rights of local and indigenous peoples, and democratic principles. It is itself completely undemocratic, essentially unaccountableÑrun from Washington as a giant corporate organisation on the principle not of Òone personÊ(or one country)/one vote,Ó but Òone dollar/one vote.Ó With the IMF and the World Trade Organisation, it takes its position as a finely-tuned machine for the spread of market liberalism across the globe. It determines the fate of billions with no means of influencing its activities, other than through protest aimed at exposing and delegitimising it. With this goal the INGOs launched a global campaign to publicise their objections during the entire year of the World BankÕs fiftieth anniversary. It consisted of protest actions, conferences, seminars, meetings, numerous ongoing computer conferences, and a concerted media campaign throughout the world. The campaign was to culminate in a flurry of activities surrounding the World BankÕs own 50th anniversary celebrations in Madrid, coinciding with its 49th annual meeting. I arrive at the airport having received no information about my accommodation, other than a phone number which is not answering. I look around and see a man holding a placard labelled ÒWorld Bank Conference,Ó who will usher people into a waiting air-conditioned bus which is to deliver the dignitaries to their five-star hotels. I approach him and explain my plight. I am not actually a delegate to the official conference, although I do have Òobserver statusÓ there. I have come to research the INGOs. He graciously offers me a seat on the bus. I will be deposited at a hotel in the centre of town, from where I can go in search of my own conference accommodation, if I can find it. I enter the bus in jeans and t-shirt, my much-abused ruck-sack (house) on my back, and smaller back-pack (office) on my shoulder. The immaculately groomed occupants of the bus look at me bemusedly as I walk past them to the back of the bus, until it is ÒexplainedÓ to them that I am Òone of the protesters.Ó On the way we pass a group of some 50 tents in a park alongside the main road. Someone calls out ÒthatÕs your people!,Ó which incites raucous laughter from the crowd in the bus. I smile politely. One week later The Queen is hosting a special concert in honour of the dignitaries. On the plaza outside a group of about 300 activists is staging an Òalternative concert.Ó Remember they have come to Madrid with their Òother voices of the planet.Ó This is a non-violent symbolic Òconcert,Ó where they are casually sitting on the pavement, joyously chanting to the beat of home-made percussion instruments. The police are there in full riot gear. One of them gives a nod about 30 minutes before the Queen is due to arrive, and within one minute the activists have been surrounded by police to block their escape, and the batons start thumping over their heads. For 15 minutes pandemonium reigns as people desperately scramble for cover, screaming and shouting out ÒmurderersÓ at the police. The streets are cleared in about 15 minutes. The ambulances that are waiting on stand-by remove the broken people who did not manage to escape. The casualty ward of the hospital fills, and the next morning two women are flown back home to Sweden with head injuries. I am relatively Òlucky,Ó since I was not actually in the demonstration but only observing on the side: large purple bruises and welts cover the entire length of both my thighs. Thus we see the dark face of Òdevelopment,Ó the level of protection deemed necessary by our global masters against any who would dare to challenge their legitimacy. The state comes out in violent force against its own unarmed citizens and international visiting activists. The vested interests of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the financial markets and transnational corporations who are the real beneficiaries of ÒaidÓ and the global economy, must after all be protected. The stakes are indeed high, as high as they get. Enter our INGOs, putatively as representatives of Òglobal civil society.Ó They occupy, it is said, an intermediary role between Òthe peopleÓ (of the world) and the major global (governing) institutions. However neither are the leaders of any of these official institutions nor their opposing INGOs actually democratically elected. The INGO members are mostly either self-appointed voluntary workers or salaried professionals. During the year of the fiftieth anniversary, thousands of activists around the world joined the campaign to condemn the Bank and to demand change. But what change? Who exactly has the formula for eliminating global injustice, for devising an alternative to global capitalism, and the crisis of Òthe new world (dis)orderÓ? And what political strategies might the INGOs most usefully adopt? These are some of the difficult questions INGOs confront. What might contemporary democratic theory offer to assist INGOs in making such decisions? 3. Communicative democracy Iris Young has proposed an idealised model of communicative democracy. It suggests procedures for communicative exchanges in relationships in which others are recognised and acknowledged on their own terms, in their specific and particular needs, perspectives, feelings and desires. Appropriate decisions can become clear when this kind of understanding becomes available from all who will be affected by them. This can only truly occur under ideal conditions, with the elimination of domination and oppression. YoungÕs model is aimed at including all social and cultural groups, regardless of their backgrounds. Her starting point assumes difference and distance. Because power sometimes enters the form, the style and the content of speech itself, the more marginalised groups usually tend to be excluded or silenced. To counter this Young proposes Òan equal privileging of any forms of communicative interaction where people aim to reach understanding.Ó This involves speaking and listening across wide differences of culture, social position, need and commitment, recognising others in their particularity. To facilitate the participation of multiple voices in decision-making, she advocates the entry of multiple modes and styles of communication, in an open process with no predetermined outcomes, but through which opinions, preferences and perspectives are transformed. Communicative democracy expects conflict and difference, and rather than presuming criticism and dissent to be dangerously disruptive by creating divisions that need to be overcome, this model celebrates difference, disagreement and challenge, regarding them instead as resources to draw on for increased understanding. Communication is integral to this theory of democracy. Young writes of the need for Òa broad and plural conception of communication that includes both the expression and extension of shared understandings, where they exist, and the offering and acknowledgment of unshared meanings.Ó This supports less conventional (by Western rationalist standards) modes of communication than critical argument alone, affirming Òthe culturally variant ways that humans produce and make use of multiple representations,Ó including such things as greeting, rhetoric, story-telling, and gesture. ÒOur task,Ó Joan Landes argues, Òis surely not to resort to texts in place of images, but instead to comprehend and deploy all means of representation in a counterhegemonic strategy against established power wherever it resides.Ó These suggestions primarily focus on the recognition of difference. But as Nancy FraserÕs formulation of justice emphasises, equitable distribution of social, economic and political resources (distributive justice) may be just as crucial as the recognition of differences (recognition justice) for democratic communication. Unequal access to resources and cultural misrecognition both impede democratic participation by disadvantaged groups, who suffer differentially from the effects of domination, oppression and isolation due to material, structural, social, political and cultural constraints. I thus include redistribution also in my model of communicative democracy. Can this model be extended to the global field? From my research I conclude that decision-making in global organisations, as in national and local entities, absolutely requires personal contact where relationships of trust, mutual respect and solidarity can begin to develop. Especially for the hard decisions on contentious issues, there is no substitute for face-to-face contact, whatever logistical, financial and other difficulties this entails. To this extent a communicative model of democracy can provide valuable guidelines for global organisations, since difference is even more pronounced in the global setting, as is maldistribution. The vexed question of who gets to participate in these meetings raises the problem of representation. Below I examine my case study findings using a model of communicative democracy, revised to include recognition, redistribution and representation, as they affect participation in face-to-face meetings. Of course any model of global democracy will always be highly contestable and for good reasons, but I regard such proposals as a tactic for addressing present day concerns. There is already a de facto system of global governance that is entirely undemocratic, to which the INGOs rightly draw our attention. While these institutions exist, there is no escaping the importance of challenging them, such as by calling for their democratisation, abolition or replacement with ÒgenuinelyÓ democratic structures. It is clear that in their present form they could not survive radical democratisation. As will be clear from the foregoing, neither would the current structures of INGOs remain unchanged by radical democratisation, for they themselves tend to mirror this undemocratic global hierarchy. 4. The matrix of INGOs against the World Bank The INGO world is pervaded by hierarchies of power, resources and influence in a matrix along several intersecting axes. Here I focus on two of these. The first depends on the philosophical approach to change of the World Bank, roughly divided between ÒreformistsÓ and Òabolitionists.Ó The second I loosely describe as the North-South hierarchy, arguing that power relations and hence participation among INGOs reflects the international hierarchy among nation-states. I suggest that the dynamics of these relationships, and hence their communications and the technologies associated with them, are preconditioned by, but also reinforce, these power differentials. 4.1 Abolition-Reform axis At Madrid it is plain that the activists here are roughly divided between two principal approaches to the World Bank: abolition and reform. To simplify, the abolitionists feel that the Bank is the evil tool of the imperialist capitalists, acting in the interests of global capital and the G7, an irredeemable monster, agent of death and destruction, for which the only solution can be its complete abolition. They mostly eschew direct lobbying, preferring to work at the grassroots level, believing that to lobby the Bank is to confer legitimacy upon it. The reformists, on the other hand, argue for exerting pressure to convert it into a friendly, benevolent bank, by lobbying against specific projects while at the same time pressuring for its democratisation and structural reform. The reformists are primarily the leaders of NGOs in industrialised countries and, here in Madrid, a very small number of representatives from the South (and fewer from Eastern Europe). They have the education and resources necessary for gaining access to officialdom, and their prominence, international reputation and influence are often substantially facilitated when they are effective electronic communicators. These lobbyists have worked relentlessly for over a decade, battling on in an unremitting word war, fax machines at their sides, and lap-top computers in their arms as they traverse the globe in search of information and networks of support. Their campaigns against the Bank have delivered some serious blows. By invoking the arguments for democratic legitimacy, they have obtained some significant concessions in recent years from the Bank. But in the words of one of my interviewees, a key figure in the bureaucratic NGO lobbying centre of Washington: ÒWe got what we wanted. Now what?Ó The lobbyistsÕ arenas are the corridors of power, a world dominated by meetings behind closed doors, where they rely on rational argument produced on their computers, combined with muscle-flexing based on their clever use of the media to dramatise and sensationalise the scandal of Òaid.Ó Here in Madrid they slip in and out of the Alternative Forum, but consolidate their energies as they gather together in the ÒNGO roomÓ at the World BankÕs Annual Meeting. By contrast, abolitionists in their thousands fill the streets and huge public halls of the Foro AlternativoÑÒLas otras voces del planeta.Ó These are the sites of rhetorical flourish and direct protest, principally by the abolitionists. Justice and survival is their battle cry: Ò50 A–os Creando Miseria, Desturyendo el PlanetaÓ; ÒCinquento a–os bastan!Ó. The two factions, the abolitionists and the reformists, hardly talk to each other. They speak different languages, ideologically and literally. The Foro Alternativo is conducted mostly in Spanish, interpretedÑwhere possibleÑinto several languages (via headsets in the large plenaries). The lobbyistsÕ business is in English. I manoeuvre between the two arenas. On the streets at night I get beaten up with the abolitionists, and the next day I wear my Òrational,Ó middle-class professional hat to join the reformists and talk bureaucratese and political expediency. I scurry between the tightly packed schedules of the two conferences, on opposite sides of town, from the large crowds of the Foro Alternativo to the plush setting of the World Bank Annual Meeting, where a small elite group of lobbyists are vigorously tapping on their lap-tops, in between their meetings with World Bank officials. 4.2 North-South axis Lobbying power in relation to the Bank is however not equally distributed. It paral