Two hundred fifty years ago on an unusually cool summer afternoon, a diverse group of patriots assembled in the Pennsylvania State House and collectively pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor as they formally adopted the Declaration of Independence. With the American Revolution underway, each of the 56 men who eventually would affix his signature to the document fully recognized the personal risk he took in doing so (the penalty for such a treasonous act was death by hanging). John Hancock explained that his oversized signature was to ensure that the King of England could recognize the script without glasses and perhaps double the ransom already on Hancock’s head, and Benjamin Franklin is credited with proclaiming—in response to a call for revolutionary unity—that “[i]ndeed we must all hang together, otherwise we shall most assuredly hang separately.”
By July 4, 1776, the delegates of the Second Continental Congress had been together in Philadelphia for almost 14 months. They knew each other well. They had a history of corresponding with one another, of spending time together, and—at least while in Philadelphia—of often sharing food and drink. In short, they made it a point to develop personal relationships that allowed them not only to understand each other’s viewpoints, but also to appreciate the thought processes that went into formulating those views. Our forefathers consequently developed a trust that enabled compromise and resolution outside the public domain, in an arena where calmness and reason could prevail over partisan politics and rhetoric. It was this close association and mutual trust, combined with an extraordinary commitment to both civic engagement and a common purpose, that enabled the fledgling experiment in representative democracy to succeed.
In 1995, political scientist and Harvard University public policy professor Robert Putnam published an influential article titled Bowling Alone: America’s Declining Social Capital, in which he noted that membership in civic associations had decreased during the previous several decades with no corresponding increase in membership in other social organizations. As Putnam observed, the number of bowlers in bowling leagues had steadily declined although overall participation in the sport actually had risen. Hence, more individuals were bowling alone and thereby threatening the livelihood of bowling-lane proprietors, because league bowlers “consume three times as much beer and pizza as solo bowlers, and the money in bowling is in the beer and pizza, not the balls and shoes.” The broader social concern, according to Putnam, is that the loss of social interaction and civic discussion once provided by league membership—what he referred to as a loss of “social capital”—is symptomatic of the overall decline in active civil engagement required of citizens in a strong democracy.
As Thomas Friedman pointed out in his 2005 international best seller The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-First Century, the advent of the technological revolution allowed an ever-increasing rate of globalization and further participatory decline in American social associations. Although the “flattening” of the world eliminates barriers and supports greater worldwide efficiencies, globalization arguably also threatens the diversity of communities and their cultures. Individuals increasingly are opting for solitary entertainment or online socializing instead of traditional interpersonal association. In other words, we not only are bowling alone today, we are doing so in the privacy of our own homes—no doubt in front of flat-screen televisions projecting images of virtual bowling alleys compliments of gaming consoles. By focusing only inward—or seeing the world only through the homogenous medium of the internet—we invariably overlook the uniqueness of our local community and those who reside in it and consequently fail to focus on the welfare of our neighbors. According to Lehigh University student Hilary Lewis, “Loss of community is a key failure of globalization because community creates a sense of personal responsibility for others that helps protect its members.”
Although electronic technology may allow individual tastes to be satisfied more fully, such self-gratification comes at the expense of the positive social interactions associated with more traditional forms of communication, arguably driving a wedge between our individual interests and our collective community interests. We phone each other because we don’t have time to meet in person; we email one another because we don’t have time for a lengthy phone conversation; we text because we don’t have time to email; and we check out each other’s social media because we don’t have time to send a text message, we don’t have time for a collaborative conversation, and we want to “take advantage” of updates that are limited to “sound bites.” But is the erosion of social interaction and association driven by actual time limitations, or by our own choices? And as our associations with others decrease, are we indeed losing valuable social capital and a sense of community? In a 2009 commencement address, then Google chairman and CEO Eric Schmidt seemingly answered these questions when he told graduates that they need to find out what is most important to them—by living analog for a while. “Turn off your computer. You’re actually going to have to turn off your phone and discover all that is human around us.” This advice is as true—if not more so—today than it was then.
One of the purposes of a local American Inn of Court is to foster a sense of community, to have its members support community association and community identity. Local Inns and their members have unique characteristics and unique needs, and members—as active citizen-lawyers and stewards—need to be ready to provide tailored services to benefit and advance their communities. Putnam’s “social capital” increases when local Inns interact with their local communities. Civic engagement facilitates coordination and communication, and thus allows the resolution of problems requiring collective action. Ideally, such interaction converts the perception of “I” into one of “we,” further supporting the completion of collaborative tasks and creating a sense of personal responsibility for others.
Like the environment in which our Founding Fathers found themselves during the Revolutionary Period, the programs of the American Inns of Court offer opportunities for members to interact with each other, to develop professional and personal relationships, and even to break bread together. In so doing, the local Inns foster the development of close bonds and mutual trust that not only make interactions among their members more pleasant and ultimately better serve their clients but also make their collective efforts as an Inn more effective. Attorneys coordinate and cooperate not only for their mutual benefit, but also for the benefit of their clients and the community as a whole. Dealing with an attorney in an adversarial arena after first having developed a relationship with that attorney through a local Inn usually leads to mutually satisfying compromise and resolution. Even if the matter does not resolve short of an adversarial proceeding, working with that attorney invariably is a professional and enjoyable experience. Members all benefit from the opportunities provided by the American Inns of Court to develop personal relationships with their fellow attorneys and ultimately to better serve their clients and their communities.
Judge David W. Lannetti is a circuit court judge in Norfolk, Virginia (Virginia’s Fourth Judicial Circuit). He is a past president of the James Kent American Inn of Court in Norfolk and is the chair of the Editorial Board for The Bencher.