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Participatory Democracy: Movements, Campaigns, and Democratic LivingAuthor(s): JUDITH M. GREENSource: The Journal of Speculative Philosophy, New Series, Vol. 18, No. 1, Pragmatism andDeliberative Politics (2004), pp. 60-71Published by: Penn State University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/25670497 .

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Participatory Democracy: Movements, Campaigns, and Democratic Living JUDITH M. GREEN

Fordham University

Political democracy, as it exists and practically works in America, with all its threatening evils, supplies a training school for making first-class men. ... A brave delight, fit for freedom's athletes, fills these arenas, and fully satisfies, out of the action in them, irrespective of success. Whatever we do not attain, we at any rate attain the experiences of the fight, the hardening of the strong campaign, and throb with currents of attempt at least.

? Walt Whitman, Democratic Vistas

The end of democracy is a radical end, for it is an end that has not been

adequately realized in any country at any time. ?John Dewey, "Democracy Is Radical"

The cultural Left has contributed to the formation of [a] politically useless unconscious ... by adopting ideals which nobody is yet able to imagine being actualized. Among these ideals are participatory democracy and the end of capitalism.

?Richard Rorty, Achieving Our Country

Participatory Democracy: A Useful Ideal for the Twenty-First Century?

These are paradoxical times for the ideal of participatory democracy in America, the land that gave the world Jefferson as its intellectual midwife, Whitman as its

poetic spur, and Dewey as the visionary seer of its future global scope and cul

ture-transforming depth. In the months and weeks just before September 11,

2001, the majority of the American people, whom Alexis de Tocqueville had

described a century and a half earlier as always meeting and organizing for

democratic social betterment in all its myriad forms, had slumped into apathy,

Journal of Speculative Philosophy, Vol. 18, No. 1, 2004.

Copyright ? 2004 The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA.

60



PARTICIPATORY DEMOCRACY 61

perhaps even mild despair about civic participation's efficacy, combined with a

too-busy preoccupation with their own narrow interests. Half of America's citi zens did not even exercise their right and duty to vote in the 2000 presidential elections, finding neither presidential candidate inspiring and believing that their individual votes made little difference, until the dramatic events of the Florida electoral recount put Miami and Tallahassee on the worldwide list of place names.

Many citizens' sudden spurt of interest in the power of the vote during those

days was quashed again, however, when the Supreme Court of the United States decided the outcome of Bush v. Gore by a single-vote majority and the Electoral

College subsequently declared Bush the winner, in spite of the fact that Gore had won a majority of the popular vote. The American economy slowed during this same period, and most American citizens slumped back into their previous apathy and preoccupation, now tinged with anxiety about their own economic

survival, so that there was very little outcry against the new Bush administration's immediate attacks on the greatest achievements of America's participatory demo cratic movements in the previous century, including civil rights and liberties, environmental protection legislation, occupational health and safety regulations, and affirmative programs to equalize opportunities for women and members of racial and ethnic groups who have been burdened with legal limitations and social exclusions of various kinds throughout our nation's history.

Then came September 11, a day of shock and horror that those who lived

through it will never forget?and with it, an immediate revival from apathy and alienation into civic fellow-feeling as members of a wounded American nation

grieving together and determined not to allow hard-hearted terrorists to destroy the democratic ideal we saw at that moment as precious, hard-won, and fragile.

Almost immediately thereafter, however, President Bush declared a war of re

prisal on Afghanistan, further limited Americans' civil liberties, and began to

speak of an "axis of evil" in the world that must be defeated by American might in a war against terrorism and its supporters, in which "those who are not with us are against us." Members of the Bush administration began to prepare for and to justify a second war against Iraq. Americans who spoke out against these

developments were branded unpatriotic, and members of Congress who expressed reservations were effectively targeted for defeat in the midterm elections of 2002.

Nonetheless, despite a near-total lack of leadership from Congress, the national political parties, and some of the older movement-based organizations that might have guided efforts both to resist this silencing of dissent and to open up a national conversation about the future of our country and of democratic

processes worldwide, a new participatory democratic movement began to emerge throughout America, using the Internet and full-page newspaper advertisements to communicate with a wide public, in spite of the exclusion of their message from most of the traditional news media. During the early months of 2003, in coordination with similar movements worldwide, millions of these actively par



62 JUDITH M. GREEN

ticipating, democracy-minded citizens staged massive demonstrations in oppo sition to the proposed invasion of Iraq?the largest and most rapidly constituted antiwar movement in the history of the world. Their views were ignored by President Bush and by the United Kingdom's Prime Minister Tony Blair, who

together launched a war in late March 2003 in defiance not only of these mil lions of citizens, but of the United Nations' Security Council and of various international nonaggression treaties to which their nations were signatories.

Nonetheless, the experience of participating in this massive, international, though short-lived antiwar effort has marked a new generation and has revived mem bers of older generations who had allowed their participatory democratic com mitments to sleep for a time.

The question these activists and their fellow citizens must ask themselves

now, in light of a post-September 11 awareness of democracy's fragility as well as subsequent experiences of watching world leaders of so-called experienced democracies unravel the work of earlier democratic movements and then ignore their own citizens' time-consuming though exhilarating antiwar efforts, is this: How should we imagine democratic living, now and in the future? Should we

declare the participatory democratic ideal that so motivated Jefferson, Whitman,

Dewey, and generations of American activists "a dead dog" that, whatever its

beauty and usefulness when its was still alive and alert to its times, is now noth

ing more than a "nostalgia magnet" that keeps us from facing the reality that we now live in?a supremely dangerous, globalized world in which democracy can mean no more than governance by those chosen by the wealthy few and their like-minded "experts," whose carte blanche we Americans are constitutionally entitled to re-endorse at regularly scheduled intervals? Dare we frame our lives to include at least occasional participation in limited campaigns to remedy spe cific harms or miscarriages in the way such formally democratic governance

proceeds? Or dare we go even further, risking our hopes, our time and other

resources, and our sense of meaning in living on a commitment to lifelong par

ticipation in local, national, and international movements to give fuller realiza tion to the participatory democratic ideal that some of us glimpsed again in recent months, in spite of the frustrations and real dangers of advocating its

global instantiation in these violent and unstable times? The last of these alternatives suggests the risky adventure to which this

essay invites the reader: actively embracing participatory democracy as a vital

ideal for our times that can give meaning and energy to our way of democratic

living as individuals and as citizens, that can claim and learn from a proud though painful history, but that must be reframed in light of the twenty-first century's new obstacles and new opportunities in order to give good guidance to transfor mative efforts in diverse global contexts. As William James said of religious belief, perhaps no amount of evidence in advance of embracing such a risky commitment could rationally warrant it (James 1897). Clearly, decisive evidence




of participatory democracy's feasibility is not currently available; and equally clearly, there are at present many significant obstacles to the efficacy of demo cratic movements in America and in most other countries. These obstacles, as well as misguided suspicion about the putatively Marxist origins of the partici patory democratic ideal, anxiety about its vagueness, and distrust of the compe tence of its emissaries to deliver the goods, led Richard Rorty to conclude, in his influential and in many ways inspiring pre-September 11 book, Achieving Our

Country: Leftist Thought in Twentieth Century America (1998), that "participa tory democracy" is a bad idea that might better be replaced by periodic contri butions to "good causes" that together might fulfill America's long-term goal of

equal economic opportunity for all. However, a careful analysis of Rorty's think

ing on this subject against the background of American history will show that the efficacy of the limited campaigns he endorses actually depends upon broader,

ongoing, movement-building commitments of a critical mass of energetic, in

sightful, risk-taking real people who do the hard work of organizing, who har vest the lessons of both success and failure, and who successfully inspire and teach their successors how to carry on the participatory democratic struggle in other times and places.

This conclusion will suggest that, instead of being "a dead dog" whose burial cannot be concluded too soon, as currently regnant neoconservatives join the "reformist liberal" Rorty in asserting, participatory democracy is exactly what the world needs now. Therefore, we had better get to work on more fully developing a general theory of participatory democracy for the twenty-first cen

tury, including context-sensitive guidelines for transformative effectiveness in diverse global locations and a motivating rationale for fellow citizens to make it

part of their approach to living.1

Rorty's Hero-Based Claim:

Campaigns, not Movements, as Frameworks for Living

The seeming contradiction of Rorty's brusque dismissal of participatory democ

racy while evoking the vision of Dewey and Whitman in the context of recalling late-twentieth-century American thinkers to active, collaborative participation in great campaigns of democratic reform sends a confusing signal to the careful reader, one that requires interpretation and critical assessment. This confusing signal and the key to its interpretation are both included in Rorty's dedication of

Achieving Our Country to two of his heroes, Irving Howe and A. Philip Randolph Jr., who modeled very different approaches to living within the context of

transgenerational struggles to deepen America's democracy. Rorty's quick dis missal of participatory democracy seems to spring from two autobiographically



64 JUDITH M. GREEN

linked causes. First, he dismisses it as a slogan of the "New Left," whose neces

sary and effective participation in the anti-Vietnam War movement he acknowl

edged in Achieving Our Country, only to quickly forget it. As a slogan, "participatory democracy" suggests no specific reforms and thus does no work, in Rorty's view; instead, he claims, it masks an antidemocratic Marxist agenda that history has proven to be disastrous. Second, Rorty dismisses the desire to

work for participatory democracy as an expression of Kierkegaard's "passion of the infinite" and the need for "the assurance of purity" that typically character izes movements (Rorty 1998, 114). He favors limited campaigns over move

ments because, he suggests, movements are dangerous to their partisans, ineffective in achieving concrete reforms, and performatively self-contradic

tory over the long term.

Though Rorty rejects movements in general and Marxism in particular, his secondary hero, A. Philip Randolph Jr., was self-identified with and shaped within two of America's great, transgenerational democratic movements: he was

"a race man" and "a union man," the founder of the Black Sleeping Car Porters

Union who was known to its members and friends as "the Chief," the editor of The Messenger, and an original American thinker who found much to agree with in Marxism (Moses 1997). Though his comments are brief and dismissive,

Rorty seems to think that American Marxists, like the "cultural Left" he criti

cizes in greater detail, foster national self-disgust while being so preoccupied with abstract theoretical issues and intracurricular struggles that they fail to en

gage with the real, practical issues of the day. Moreover, he argues, their dreams

of "the end of capitalism" and of "participatory democracy" are as vague, unachievable, and otherworldly as the dreams of heaven of Christian funda

mentalists, which similarly block the way to "achieving our country" by dis

tracting energies and confusing the goals of collaborative struggle. Thus, though Rorty praises Martin Luther King Jr. and Walter Reuther, leaders of the Civil

Rights Movement and the Labor Movements respectively, as well as Randolph, who was a leader of both, he rejects movements as such, at least in part because

they are associated with Marxism.

Ironically, however, movement partisans' allegedly inevitable attachment

to a "quest for purity" is one of the reasons why Rorty rejects movements in

favor of "campaigns." Here he claims the guidance of the lived example of the

first man to whom he dedicates Achieving Our Country, Irving Howe, who parted ways in 1954 with the Partisan Review, the movement-oriented journal of the

intellectual "reformist Left," because it had lost its radical edge, and founded

Dissent as an alternative, independent journal of individual Left opinion. Howe's

prose inspired young Rorty to seek likewise to combine "critical conscious

ness" and "political conscience" in his way of living (Rorty 1998, 112). How

ever, by 1982, when Howe published A Margin of Hope: An Intellectual

Autobiography, he and Rorty had both come to regard this aspiration as unreal




izable, apparently in part because good minds do not operate well in an orga nized, unified manner; they are and must remain independent, Howe and Rorty suggest, and thus are incapable of pledging their loyalty to a movement, al

though they can properly contribute their energetic gifts to campaigns. Mem

bership in a movement, Rorty claims, requires the partisan to interpret events as

"parts of something much bigger, and as having little meaning in themselves"

(114). Thus, literature, art, history, and philosophy must be combined together in a movement's imaginative alchemy in order to create "a larger context in

which politics is no longer just politics, but rather the matrix out of which will

emerge something like Paul's 'new being in Christ' or Mao's 'new socialist man'" (115). Such a movement politics, Rorty writes, "assumes that things will be changed utterly, that a terrible new beauty will be born" (115).

The impossibility of such a complete social transformation, and the pain of disillusionment when one discovers that impossibility, is the ultimate reason

why Howe stuck to campaigning, and apparently why Rorty has done likewise, avoiding movements and also detaching his critical consciousness from his po litical conscience and giving up the aspiration of perfectly synthesizing work

with life (115). Rorty writes admiringly of Howe, "[h]e wrote as he pleased and about what he pleased, without asking which larger goals he served or how his work tied in with the spirit of the age" (116). Though Howe himself confessed that he was troubled by his inability to "reconcile my desire to be a writer with remembered fantasies about public action," Rorty dismisses such a concern,

stating that Howe was "the envy of his contemporaries, precisely because he was able to find the time to be both an accomplished man of letters and the

unpaid editor of his country's most useful political magazine" (116).

America's Historical Experience: Effective Campaigns Require Broader Movements

It is hard to compare an approach to living like Howe's that was learned from the warnings of political novels with one like Randolph's that was learned in active self-identification within movements; yet they offer very different life models, and if we use these to measure the value of movements, they suggest very different conclusions. Rorty's claim that we can say everything important about Randolph's alternative kind of life and the way such a life has meaning and impact within the project of "achieving our country" by telling a narrative of "a very large number of small campaigns" does not bear scrutiny well (121). Reflecting on historical interconnections among some of the great American social movements, the kinds of lives they have framed, and the campaigns whose eventual success they have made possible shows that, without the movements



66 JUDITH M. GREEN

Rorty dismisses, the effectiveness of the campaigns he endorses, and even our evaluation of them as "good causes," would be impossible.

A. Philip Randolph Jr. became the kind of man he was because the great movements that framed his life, including the influential individuals he encoun tered and the decisive events in which he participated, required and called forth the development of the great potentials we retrospectively regard as characteris tic of him. As Dewey suggests in his essay "Time and Individuality" (1940), any human being encompasses myriad potentials, only some of which will actually be developed in the course of living a particular life in a particular social and historical context. We are not born as finished individuals, nor do our families, our early friends, and our childhood circumstances complete the individualiza tion process, though all of them are important in shaping who we become. For

mal education (or lack thereof) also is important, though not finally decisive?remember Abraham Lincoln. Certainly choice and chance are impor tant factors in our ongoing individualization throughout our lives, as Rorty rightly reminds us. Nonetheless, the educative associations and opportunities of our

adult lives are profoundly formative, especially our daily work, because it takes

up so much of our time and energies and because our culture strongly influences us to treat it as self-definitive; but so are our families and friendships outside the

workplace, as well as the often-related "avocational" interests and commitments to which we devote our "free time." Gardeners, bird watchers, fishers, and wil derness lovers become special breeds; couch potatoes and Internet trawlers are

other kinds of people; singers, painters, and mystery writers are shaped by the

media they shape; and citizen-activists become what their causes need and stimu late them to become in the course of their collaborative efforts to transform institutions and social practices from without and within. A. Philip Randolph Jr.

became the man he did because the parents who named him and the community that cared for him as a child taught and embodied idealistic values as well as

needs related to "race" and to economic opportunity within the still-unfinished

America they claimed as their country. In response to that caring, those values, and those needs, he chose to become "a race man" and "a union man." Chance

combined with his own hard-wrought talents and the hard work of many others

who also identified themselves with these great movements to create the ex

traordinary opportunities and circumstances that helped to form the adult indi

vidual who, as Rorty acknowledges, "symbolize[s] my country at its best."

Without the movements that formed him as he led them, that Randolph would never have lived. The same is true of that Martin Luther King Jr. the

whole world knows, and of that Walter Reuther some of us remember. How

ever, none of these highly effective movement leaders willed "a single thing," as Rorty suggests one inevitably must if one commits one's loyalty to a move

ment. Instead, each was a complex individual responsive to multiple loyalties,

guided by a broader democratic vision, and appreciative of others' efforts and




commitments to achieve different aspects of "our country." Participating in their

particular movements during their moments in shaping history was a calling to

them that came with a high price, yet with great rewards: a sense of larger mean

ing in their lives than if they had focused only on a predefined career and a

narrowly conceived family; opportunities for their own development and that of others like them who would come after them that otherwise would not have

existed; a sense of doing right in the face of great wrongs that could not be

denied; sustaining and exhilarating friendships with other committed, creative,

actively developing, change-making individuals. Those American movements, and other equally great participatory demo

cratic movements before them, were more than "a very large number of small

campaigns" in their goals, in their social and organizational structures, in their duration across the lives of many generations, in their capacities to sustain hope and loyalty through times of adversity, in their potential-developing powers, in their moral significance, and in their transformative effectiveness. Like the

movement to abolish slavery, the American women's rights movement that

emerged out of abolitionism spanned many generations, guided by American

precedents and by broader democratic ideals. These were powerfully expressed by Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Lucretia Mott, Frederick Douglass, and others in their Seneca Falls Declaration of 1848, which focused movement participants' energies into a series of great campaigns to achieve both immediate and larger objectives, many of which were not accomplished until many years after these leaders' deaths: women's suffrage, access to higher educational institutions and

professions, legal guarantees of equal pay and equal employment opportunities, and legal control of their own finances and of their own reproductive capacities. Some of the objectives that the American women's movement has sought at various times have subsequently come to seem ill-advised or no longer neces

sary. For example, special protective labor legislation decreeing shorter hours for women, lighter loads to be lifted, and a chair on which to sit during breaks came to seem unnecessary because the broader labor movement eventually achieved legal and customary protection of safer and more humane working conditions for most workers in most fields, and women gradually have become

accepted as coworkers in most kinds of employment (though women still are

paid less collectively and still are less likely to be chosen for top leadership positions in many fields). Other goals and examples of the early American femi nists were ignored with embarrassment for a time, but later regarded by many of their movement inheritors as prophetic, e.g., Elizabeth Cady Stanton's The

Woman's Bible (1895) and the feminist, interracial wedding ceremony of Angelina Grimke and Theodore Weld (Lerner 1967). All of these goals, strategies, cam

paigns, and symbols were adopted and justified to others not only in terms of the mysterious workings of individual conscience, but also in terms of broadly shared moral values and guiding ideals, for whose meaning partisans of the



68 JUDITH M. GREEN

women's movement contested with their intellectual-cultural tradition as well as the dominant members of their contemporary society. Part of their effective ness was due to persuading others by reasoned argument, part to their ability to demonstrate by their living example that another kind of life was possible, and

part to the practical capability that their committed relationships with one an other and their stable alliances with members of other movements gave them to maximize their inferior political, legal, economic, and cultural powers in ways that allowed them over time to influence laws and social institutions, as well as the outlooks and preferences of others.

Similar stories can be told of the Progressive movement, the Labor move

ment, the Civil Rights movement, and the peace movement: effective move ments require well-focused campaigns; and effective campaigns that can be

recognized as "good causes" require the practical and interpretive context that

larger ideals and longer-term transformative movements provide. Many con

tributors to the effectiveness of "good causes" may not choose to dedicate them selves to the movements that organize and direct such campaigns. They may, like Henry David Thoreau, have other life business to be about. However, it is

important to realize that Thoreau's life, like Randolph's and Howe's, would not

have been what it was without the gifts and the willingness of others to organize and to sustain movements in support of the democratic ideal and in opposition to the great evils of his day?the movement to abolish slavery, the movement in

opposition to the Mexican-American War, the movement for universal public

education, the budding movement to cherish and protect the land?to which Thoreau could occasionally contribute his own great gifts, and from which his conscience could thereby obtain absolution for his choice to lead a predomi nantly solitary life.

Transformative Movements and Democratic Living in a

Dangerous, Uncertain World

Movements end, and sometimes they achieve some of their great goals while

failing to achieve others; but if their partisans' ultimate commitment is to an

ideal like the democratic ideal, the longing that gives rise to these movements, the relationships they shape, and the special skills they develop usually con

tinue to seek new transformative outlets. Former partisans who fail to find new

transformative opportunities long nostalgically for "the movement." Those who move on to new activist commitments form new friendships and develop new

aspects of their individualities while building on and continuing to revise their

active "how-to" knowledge as well as the senses of "what" and "why" they gain

through civic activism. The attraction is not "purity" or "infinitude," but a mean




ingful life and one's own growth through shared, transgenerationally effective

agency in shaping a world that reflects their ideals. Such a life is "alive" for democratic partisans. It need not entail greater

dangers to one's psychic integrity than other kinds of lives, especially the life of

skeptical apathy that so many "fortunate" young Americans seemed to find them selves living until recently. It does require mature response to disappointment and disillusionment because more is risked; but a democratic movement's guid ing ideals and an experienced, multigenerational community pursuing them to

gether can offer resources to shape and to sustain a response of continuing hope, enlightened dedication, undamaged personal worth, and undiminished regard for partners in struggle who live up to shared values. Nonetheless, such a life could become existentially more sustainable and practically more effective with

insights from an experience-based general theory that would illuminate the vari ous practical, ethical, and psychological issues we contemplate when we con sider the activist's life as a "genuine option" (James 1897). These insights include:

?how to sustain ourselves in protracted democratic struggle while surviving

devastating setbacks, hard life choices, personal harms, and daily costs to our

selves, our families, our friends, and our heroes, long enough to make deep

personal, institutional, and cultural changes; ?how to understand the relationship between these deeper, ideal-guided, long

contested, hard-won changes and the prospects of the particular campaigns we

envision;

?how to recognize the difference between what coalitions can achieve in the

short term and what it takes King's committed, "beloved" communities to

achieve in the longer term;

?how to create or to find the ways in which, as Dewey understood, commit

ted democratic engagement can open up possibilities for developing desirable

individual potentials instead of stifling them in routine or in the conformity

Rorty fears; ?how to reflectively welcome the ways that such wider engagements change

the meaning of our own mortality in ways that Whitman understood; and

?how to understand and to express why we need a more deeply democratic

ideal to give guidance to our movements, our campaigns, and our life choices,

beyond and in addition to the guiding role of individual consciences.

If earlier stages in American history have relevance for our own danger ous and uncertain times, then "achieving our country," the great project to which

Rorty's valuable book rightly recalled us, cannot emerge from unrelated small

campaigns with limited horizons and episodic contributions of "spare energy" from the "free time" of anonymous, unrelated individuals pursuing essentially private lives. It is by its very nature the kind of project that frames lives and calls for the conjoined efforts of multiple democratic movements that learn from, build on, and revise the shared understandings that emerge from past move



70 JUDITH M. GREEN

merits. Likewise, "achieving our world," the even more ambitious project that now must frame realistic, effective, and morally justifiable American aspira tions toward "achieving our country," requires learning from recent democratic

movements in many other places: Solidarity in Poland and related citizen lib eration movements in Central Europe; the African National Congress and other democratic transformation efforts in South Africa; liberatory struggles against dictators and for indigenous peoples' rights in various Latin American nations; the student-led Otpor ("Resistance") movement in Yugoslavia that overthrew the dictator Slobodan Milosevic in October 2000 and made an obstacle-strewn

opening for democratic self-governance; the continuing human rights struggles in Burma/Myanmar, Tibet, and China; local and global environmental struggles in every nation; ethnic and religious struggles in Europe, Africa, and Asia;

struggles for democracy within and through churches in all parts of the world. Instead of being a useless slogan of Marxist revolutionaries, as Rorty

suggests, participatory democracy is a distinctively American way of express

ing both our nation's shared guiding ideal and the most effective methods that have developed within diverse, localized movements for "achieving our coun

try" and "achieving our world," phrases that reflect the heritage of Jefferson, Stanton, Mott, Douglass, Whitman, Dewey, Randolph, King, Reuther, and many other visionary heroes who committed their lives to making it a reality. It is also a framing value that guides broad convergences in the culturally differing, situ

ation-specific approaches to living of many committed members of contempo

rary democratic movements, one that focuses their emerging transformative

visions, stimulates the development of their much-needed, valuable potentials, and motivates their effective cross-difference communication. These contem

porary democratic movements, more than any other factor in our twenty-first century context, support a shared social hope that "achieving our world"?a more deeply democratic world?is possible. Thus, we who share this demo cratic social hope, and who have gifts to contribute to the development of a

general theory of participatory democracy that effectively expresses its life-fram

ing motive power and that reflects the experiences of both success and failure of

these differently contextualized citizen-activists worldwide, had better get on

with the job, just in case we might be right, and the time for its active employ ment might already be at hand.

Notes 1. For fuller discussion of these issues and a general participatory democratic framework, see

my Deep Democracy: Community, Diversity, and Transformation (Rowman & Littlefield, 1999)

and my Pragmatism and Social Hope: Deepening Democracy in Global Contexts (forthcoming).

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14, ed. Jo Ann Boydston, 98-114. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press.




James, William. 1897. "The Will to Believe." In The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular

Philosophy. New York and London: Longmans, Green & Co.

Lerner, Gerda. 1967. The Grimke Sisters from South Carolina: Pioneers for Women's Rights and

Abolition. New York: Schocken Books.

Moses, Greg. 1997. Revolution of Conscience: Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Philosophy of Nonviolence. New York: Guilford Press.

Rorty, Richard. 1998. Achieving Our Country: Leftist Thought in Twentieth-Century America.

Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Stanton, Elizabeth Cady. 1895. The Woman's Bible. New York: European Publishing Company.

