Dewey notes that “the public consists of all those who are affected by the indirect consequences of transactions to such an extent that it is deemed necessary to have those consequences systematically cared for.” (pgs. 15-16)

The public is perhaps best defined by what it is not, rather than what it is. The public as an entity is not: a governing body (although an argument can be made for governing officials being part of the public) nor is it a corporation, a medium-sized or small business. Nor is the public a legislative force, or a judicial one, and the public does not include law enforcement agencies (though can, of course, include law enforcement agents, especially when they are acting as private citizens and not on behalf of the governing bodies whose laws they enforce.)

When we define “the public” in the context of public interest, we must consider that the public is a very human entity. Though the public cannot consist of a single person, it does indeed consist of groups of people. The public is a term that best lends itself to the first-person plural; namely, we, our, and us – as in, “We, the people,” or as in, our lands and what is best for us. The public is a plurality. It is a collective.

In an increasingly globalized world, “the public” might refer to the entire human population; in other cases, it is used to refer to the inhabitants (or, more troublingly, merely the citizens) of a particular nation.

The commons, despite its tragic nature and the past and present mismanagement of shared resources, is ultimately a site for political and social contest.

The problem of the commons, if ill-regulated and brought to its logical extreme in which each rational user acts in their own best interest while ignoring the common good because its negative effect on the individual is negligible, can – in certain contexts – become a tragedy.

The commons might have begun as small, agrarian societies navigating the waters of resource allocation, but it has since become a problem that includes the world entire, including the oceans and all the biodiversity contained therein. For untold scores of species, human use and abuse of the commons has led to extinction, dwindling and fragmented habitats, forced changes in migration routes, or other disastrous consequences. Scientists warn we are in the midst of a sixth mass extinction on our planet, and the effects of anthropogenic global warming are felt by many of the world’s creatures – not just human beings.

I was struck by Hardin’s words that “the most important aspect of necessity that we must now recognize, is the necessity of abandoning the commons in breeding.” (p. 211) Here, he is speaking about overpopulation and the depletion of natural resources, biodiversity, and common property resources. As someone who is childless by choice, and does not want nor plan on having children, I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment. However, I might be inclined to feel differently if I wanted children or planned on having them in the future.

Hardin goes on to say that “freedom to breed will bring ruin to us all,” (p. 211) but of course, this raises thorny questions about who should be allowed to breed. The biological impulse to leave a legacy in the form of a child is strong for a reason: because our species would have long since died out, if most of us had felt otherwise. Natural selection naturally favors the biological impulse to have children, and the genes of someone who wants children are more likely to be passed on. A return to eugenics might prove tempting, if we were to limit the right to have children. Widescale cultural, legislative, and judicial changes would be required, and penalties for non-compliance would likely seem both draconian and dystopian.

The tragedy of the commons is ultimately our inability as individuals to act in the common good of others when it means sacrificing our own personal gain. Part of the reason for this, I would speculate, is the fact that we live in a capitalist society with imperialist roots. Members of historically marginalized groups whose ancestors lived in poverty or who were enslaved generations ago, or whose land was stolen and never returned, cannot be expected to sacrifice personal gain for the greater good; especially when it is clear that the future envisioned by that greater good does not include them, their children, or their communities.

A fairer, more equal distribution of wealth might avert a tragedy of the commons, or even present itself as a solution to re-envisioning the commons. Most people would be more willing to sacrifice personal gain for the greater good, were they to (a) trust in their government and that such a governing body has their best interests at heart, (b) believe that the vision of the future they are sacrificing for in the present will include people like them, their family, and their children and communities, and, perhaps most importantly, (c) have enough resources to live without food insecurity or the threat of homelessness.

This is, perhaps, where the concept of an “undercommons” can be useful in illuminating one of the most fundamental problems of the commons – that equal access to a common resource is a theoretical possibility yet is, in reality, an improbable situation. The commons cannot be considered sans cultural context, because there are a great many groups of peoples who have historically not had access to many aspects of the commons, and other groups who must reckon with the difficult history of their ancestors taking more than their fair share of common goods, properties, and resources.

P.S. I had many more thoughts about these readings than could fit into a single post and am eager to share them with you next class!