After our discussion, I’m curious how more recent protests like #Ferguson (and Black Lives Matter more broadly) should shape understandings of each of the three most prominent  theories of collective action in contemporary society.  This is particularly interesting given the expansive nature of these protests and their position seemingly at the intersection of mass collective action and crowd collective action.

Convergence theory suggests that “collective action happens when people with similar ideas and tendencies gather in the same place” (Class Notes, 12/4). Sparked by the murder of Michael Brown, many people gathered in Ferguson to protest police violence and brutality. This seems to be fairly well explained by convergence theory. However, twitter, as well as other digital and social media platforms, played a significant role in the #Ferguson protests and others at the core of the emerging Black Lives Matter movement. By nature, participants in digital-based protests do not have to be (and often are not) in physically close proximity as convergence theory would seem to demand. Bonilla and Rosa suggest, however, that tweets form part of [a] nonplace” (7). This notion intrigues me. Is it possible that digital social media has changed the social landscape so much that online spaces have become non-physical places in such a real way that convergence theory still explains them?

It seems possible to apply and translate contagion theory’s suggestion that “collective action arises because of people’s tendency to conform to the behavior of others whom they are in close contact” (Class Notes, 12/4) in a similar manner. Not only are the people who are actually in Ferguson compelled to act because of those with whom they’re in physically close contact, but the people in the “nonplace” of #Ferguson are encouraged to act because of their close digital proximity to others who are acting. This could also explain, at least in part, the behavior of white (and otherwise privileged) individuals who are compelled to protest digitally despite not holding a relevant “reservoir of grievances” to motivate protest behavior (Rosenfeld 499). Building on this, emergent norm theory’s focus on “keynoters” is certainly applicable in the context of #Ferguson and Black Lives Matter protests. Deray McKesson and Johnetta Elzie, for example, have risen to great prominence through their actions both on the ground and online related to #Ferguson and Black Lives Matter. It seems reasonable to argue that they created new norms for liberal, politically active “inhabitants of twitter who then made the individual decision to join the #Ferguson efforts.

By considering convergence theory, contagion theory, and emergent norm theory in the context of collective action related to #Ferguson and Black Lives Matter, we are able to see the strengths and weaknesses of these theories. It seems that digital-based collective action is best explained if we consider social media platforms like twitter to be non-physical places.  Moving forward, I’m curious how the notion of “vicarious citizenship” is best applied in these contexts. Prior to our class discussions and Professor Greene’s lecture, I think I would have argued that this concept is the best way to describe protest behavior on digital platforms, but I’m now less certain. What defines a resident in a non-physical place? How do we best understand proximity outside of a physical context?

Ocejo discusses the role that a desire for “authentic” experiences and places is currently playing in reshaping economic and communal life urban America. His focus on “new working class” jobs and careers sparked considerable debate in our class last week. We extensively discussed the many ways that these positions, and the people who hold them, may impact communities and how they should be viewed in a broader context of social inequality and privilege.

I think it may be inaccurate – or at least incomplete – to view this desire for authenticity purely as a matter of vain taste. Ocejo suggests that “people have regularly linked taste with social class” (p. 5). This is certainly true, but it seems important to note that there are also other aspects to decisions beyond an abstract personal preference shaped by social forces. Kale, for example, is trendy and often derided; it has become some sort of short-hand that older and more traditional individuals use to describe and criticize the lazy extravagance of the “hipsters” Ocejo profiles. To its critics, Kale is just a silly and more expensive version of iceberg lettuce. Yet, nutritionally, this isn’t really true; Kale is significantly more vitamin rich and contributes more to a healthy diet than most other leafy greens. It seems unlikely that this fact is not interplaying with social forces related to taste when informing hipsters’ purchasing decisions. The same sort of value judgement likely occurs in the cases of local and organic food, fair trade products, free range and humane animal products, and similar items.

A similar line of thinking can be applied when seeking to understand why college-educated individuals, many with privilege or elite backgrounds, are entering working class jobs traditionally associated with lower socioeconomic status. Ocejo mentions that “the idea of taking pleasure in and deriving meaning from one’s job underlies work in the postindustrial era” (p. 18). To this point, many of the people Ocejo profiled discussed a desire to make their life matter in a way that contributes to their communities. They are entering their crafts not merely as a means of extravagant enjoyment, but as a means of contributing to their communities. I expect that, for many of them, this choice has ethical dimensions. By making this decision, they resist and subvert a capitalist system that (arguably) demands individuals simply have the responsibility to make the most money.

Countering this idea, someone in class brought up the idea that these privileged individuals may be taking jobs (and the social and economic capital they provide) from individuals who do not have the mobility or ability to enter traditionally higher class jobs. If someone could become a lawyer, is it unethical for them to become a baker? Does this make sense even understanding that pay is not correlated with skill or effort in an especially accurate manner in our current capital system?

This consideration has particular relevance for those of us graduating from Bowdoin in the coming spring as we prepare to enter the job market. Bowdoin’s Career Planning Center recently launched a campaign entitled “Just the Fact” through which they are trying to dispel the notion that they only serve students seeking to go into careers like finance and consulting. They highlight extensive alumni involvement in non-profit and artisan sectors across the country. How does this tie into the trends we considered in class? Is this campaign a reflection of the desire for authenticity that Ocejo discusses?

Should we all just seek out the job, divorced from meaning and ethics, which will pay the most? I certainly hope not.