A Critical Theory of Societal Change
Almost all people want societal change, to some degree — we all want the world to be better, even though we differ on how that better world might be realised, or what it might encompass. You may be concerned with climate change and environmental collapse, poverty and inequality, discrimination and prejudice, war and conflict, fragile mental health and increasing levels of social anxiety, or any issue that causes widespread human suffering — or that directly impact your life or the lives of those close to you.
In essence, societal change is the struggle to improve the quality of life of the communities that we are part of, which can include our immediate communities: our family, friends, neighbourhood, and workplaces — or more abstract communities: our cities, countries, communities based on gender, ethnicity, or race, or humanity in general.
Deep down we all share the same fears around the quality of life of ourselves and those around us. How those concerns manifest differs depending on a number of factors, including your life experiences, the degree to which you’ve been affected by social issues, how connected you are to the people around you, and the extent to which you’re engaged in meaningful political activity. The dominant political ideology also plays a role, but the extent to which you agree with political ideas is related to how adequately those ideas match your experience of the world.
If you’ve ever had deep conversations with people who vote conservatively, you’ll find that their raised voices around issues such as immigration often stem from concerns around the state of healthcare systems, the lack of job security, unemployment, or other real issues. The lack of meaningful political engagement, coupled with the easy analysis and solutions provided by right-wing political parties and organisations lead many people to manifest their concerns in harmful racist, sectarian, or homophobic terms.
This is not to say that people’s subjective experiences and relationships match up perfectly with objective reality and have equal political merit, and it’s definitely not the case that your social reality is justification for hateful actions or rhetoric, but simply that we shape and are shaped by our environment. The fact of the matter is that identities, ideas, opinions, and beliefs are not fixed, but malleable.
A key element of the struggle for societal change is the acceptance that we can move people to act differently, which assumes the ability of people to change. Unfortunately ideas alone rarely change people; our social reality must be such that new ideas match our life experiences.
If societal change is so important to us, why don’t we see more people fighting for it?
Right now it’s clear that we’re undergoing environmental collapse, and yet there isn’t sufficient work being done to change this — politically, corporately, or socially. It’s a commonly held belief that most people are unaware of the extent of the problem, or that they’re invested in the current status quo, or indeed, that we’ve all been brainwashed by corrupt politicians and the fossil fuel industry, leading to environmental apathy.
As activists for change, this worldview has a huge effect on the types of action we engage in. This is why you’ll often see grassroots organisations and movements in large demonstrations, or engaging in high-profile direct action tactics, including blocking streets, disrupting events, or chaining themselves to railings outside city halls or bank or business premises. These are all legitimate campaign tactics, and are largely aimed at building awareness, with the explicit or implicit goals of changing the narrative around the societal issue — activists don’t think that sitting in the lobby of a bank will necessarily drive the bank to disinvest in fossil fuels; they hope that the media coverage and public awareness will drive people to action. Even direct action techniques that directly pressure politicians are often geared to build issue awareness.
But as effective as these tactics can be in terms of raised consciousness, the truth of the matter is that the vast majority of people are already aware that issues such as climate change are a problem. The lack of widespread action isn’t to do with ignorance, but with the structure of the socio-political landscape, and in particular the degree to which people believe change is possible, and the availability of meaningful opportunities to make that change.
People want change, but not everyone believes that it is possible. They’re not always apathetic — although this is a legitimate problem — but rather that there are few instances of large-scale demonstrations or actions having profound measurable effects. We can all think of examples in history where large scale mobilisations have impacted society, but we can think of many more examples of mobilisations which had negligible direct impact on government or corporate policy.
In 2003 there were mass demonstrations all over the UK in response to the British government’s decision to invade Iraq. That February, approximately 1.5 million people demonstrated in London, effectively shutting down most of the city. This was one of the biggest gatherings of people that the city had ever seen. But despite the optimism at the time, this mobilisation had no tangible effect on decision makers. It heightened awareness of what was seen by many as an illegitimate, unnecessary, and potentially illegal war, but didn’t go much farther than that. This was the era that I became politically active, and attended demonstrations on a whole host of progressive issues — but none of the demonstrations seemed to have any real short or long term impact.
To be clear, mass demonstrations are extremely important, and have strategic benefits outside of whether or not they immediately reverse a political decision. But the point is that it’s understandable that people — even those attached to political movements — can end up feeling as though political action doesn’t necessarily lead to societal change.
On a psychological level, it can be easier for us to believe that the world can’t be changed, or that change is a slow inevitable journey — the myth of social progress — than to believe that the world that can be changed, but that we don’t have enough power to do it. This notion can help account for low voter turnout for elections in the past decade: it’s not so much apathy that keeps people away as much as a manifestation of the psychological damage of constantly trying to exercise your voice and failing to make a tangible difference.
The other way in which the political landscape affects people’s willingness to get involved in projects for deep societal transformation is the extent to which that landscape limits or provides access to opportunities or vehicles of change. By far the most easily accessible vehicles for change (outside of the ballot box) are those of the charity or advocacy organisation. There aren’t necessarily radical communities of practice here per se, but they’re a low-commitment way of making a difference that has visible impact, if not widespread or long-term impact.
The fact that people are so willing to give to various charities is indicative of how much people care about making the world a better place. That they don’t get involved in deeper political movements says more about the access to these projects, and their perceived ability to make a difference than to people’s unwillingness to act, or their ignorance around issues. It also says something about the inadequate structure of many grassroots social movements. It doesn’t hurt that advocacy and charity organisations are structured as businesses, have generally positive media representation, and can often afford to employ full-time employees. While many social movements don’t have that luxury, and have to reply on a huge base of volunteers, there’s often an internal aversion to fundraising, structure, and concrete roles that many activists believe go against the spirit of what they’re trying to achieve.
In short, the reason that most people are not engaged in mass social change is often more to do with the structure, strategy, and visibility of social movements, than people’s apathy.
Towards a critical theory of societal change
The essays I’ll be posting here work off a very specific worldview and theory of societal change. A theory of change is essentially a statement that describes how large-scale societal change comes about, and it should guide your work as an activist or organiser in a progressive organisation. Not all theories of change are equal, and their robustness will depend on both how theoretically sound and testable they are. A robust theory of change should be able to adequately describe the world as it is, as well as theorise why it’s so difficult to make change happen. It should also take into account its position among other competing theories, and, coupled with the right methodologies of change, be able to motivate people to action for the long-term. All social movements have a theory of change, but more often than not they are implicit, ill-defined, and at odds with real-world practice.
The theory of change I’ll be drawing on in further essays can be outlined as follows:
- Organisations and movements create social change when they combine strategic interventions with meaningful mass participation.
- By strategic interventions, we mean that we shape the political environment in ways that encourage people to join the struggle for change. For this, our actions and tactics have to align to a robust understanding of how global society and the global economy function — otherwise our actions won’t produce the outcome we’re after.
- By meaningful mass participation, we mean that our organisations and movements are structured in a way that allow people opportunities for both personal growth and transformation of our immediate communities — defining communities as the people in our larger networks, not necessarily geographical communities. If our organisations don’t have ways for participants to grow as activists and to build strong bonds with others, then they’ll have a high turnover of people — because a lot of the work of movement organising is not tactical, but behind the scenes — and this can take a lot of time and effort, with few big wins.
This theory of change is used by successful social movements, but what I want to do over subsequent essays is delve into the finer points of the theory required for strategic intervention, and the types of structure and methodology needed for meaningful mass participation.
Effective activism must marry organisational and social theory with effective structures and methodologies for action. Organisations that are purely theoretical, or put too much of a focus on action are historically ineffective.
In conclusion, mass social change is not only highly desired, but also possible. However, it requires activists and organisations to build structures that allow people to join, grow, and make connections with others; it requires the use of robust methodologies that have proven results; it requires the development of a sound theoretical understanding of society.
The possibility of meaningful societal change is dependent on the long-term growth of organisations and movements, and their ability to fundamentally alter the sociopolitical landscape.
