Activism, Production, and Consumption – A Case Study from Flint

Some years ago, a crisis emerged in Flint, Michigan. The public water supply was found to have dangerously high levels of lead and this was having a significant negative public health impact. Among the first to raise the alarm was a professor at Virginia Tech named Marc Edwards. He brought a great deal of attention to the issue, and as a result of his efforts, significant steps were taken to improve the situation. As these steps were taken, Edwards continued to monitor the situation. Eventually, the water quality reached safe levels again, and Edwards reported on this success. Thankful for his work, his fellow activists expressed their appreciation for what he had done and gratitude that the situation had improved.

Hahahahaha, I’m only kidding. Of course that’s not what happened. When Edwards reported that testing had shown the improved safety of the water supply in Flint, his fellow activists responded with insults, verbal abuse, and generally attempted to destroy his personal life and professional reputation. Kevin Drum of Mother Jones magazine wrote about this bizarre affair:

Marc Edwards, the Virginia Tech professor who first exposed toxic levels of lead in the water supply of Flint, Michigan, was initially a hero to the Flint community. Thanks to him, Flint became the target of nationwide outrage, and steps were finally taken to reconnect Flint to the (safe) Detroit water supply. In less than a year, lead levels in Flint water had dropped to safe levels.

So what did Edwards do? Well, he’s a scientist, and just as he had honestly exposed Flint’s problems in the first place, he also continued to honestly report the results of the intervention. When the water was once again safe, he said so—and that turned him from a hero into a pariah.

But why? Why was it so horrible of him to report that a situation people ostensibly wanted to improve had, in fact, improved? Drum suggests the activists were too bitter to accept good news:

Here in the progressive community, we like to criticize conservatives for being too anti-science; too tribal; and too subservient to their most extreme wing. But look at what happened here. The science, as you’d expect, told us that Flint’s water got better after mitigation measures were taken—but the activists on the ground were too angry and bitter to accept that. Instead, they turned tribal on the guy reporting the results, and at that point you were either with them or against them…

So here we [progressives] are: anti-science, tribal, and subservient to our most extreme wing. Oh, and a guy named Marc Edwards, who exposed this disaster and got it fixed, is now practically an exile. It’s a sad microcosm of our modern political arena.

Of course, “activists” are not a monolith – they are a collection of individuals who are all motivated by a number of different factors – with multiple different factors influencing each individual. Could bitterness be part of the explanation? I’m sure it had a role to play. But coming across this story, I was also reminded of another framework I wrote about that I think can also explain part of what’s going on.

A while back, I suggested that there were two ways we could think about political activism. One form was what I called activism as a form of production, the other was activism as a form of consumption.

When activism is viewed as a form of production, the point and purpose of engaging in activism is to improve or solve some social problem – in other words, to produce a particular result. When activism is viewed as a form of consumption, the point and purpose of activism is to gain personal benefit – a feeling of community, social status, a sense of purpose and meaning, and so on. These two different activities have very different implications.

When activism is meant to be a form of production, there is a clearly defined goal to be achieve, and once achieved the need for activism ceases.

When activism is used as a form of consumption (such as people who see “being involved” as a great source of meaning and purpose in life), there is no clearly defined goal and the goalposts often shift, because to actually achieve a goal deprives one of their impetus to activism.

As a problem genuinely improves, those who use activism as a form of production will declare “mission accomplished” and get on with their lives. But those who engage in activism as a form of consumption, and especially those who see activism as an important part of their social identity, the idea that a problem has been solved can be threatening. This gives them an incentive to deny the improvements, or shift the goalpost, or both. As time goes on, and especially as the world gets better, any given movement will become more and more dominated by those using activism as consumption rather than for production – a form of Gresham’s Law in action.

This seems to capture some measure of what happened in this case. Edwards got involved with the Flint water supply as a production-activist. Therefore, when the water supply safety issues improved, the obvious next step for him was to acknowledge the progress that had been made. But for consumer-activists, people who find meaning and purpose in “fighting the good fight,” being told that the fight had been won threats to deprive them of that meaning and purpose. Thus, those who claim the situation has improved become a new enemy to attack. And that’s why we end up witnessing the bizarre spectacle Drum laments. The phrase “don’t shoot the messenger” has historically applied when the messenger in question was the bearer of bad news. But for consumer-activists, the urge to shoot the messenger instead arises when the messenger is the bearer of good news. Marc Edwards was the unfortunate bearer of good news, but his case is hardly unique.

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