Has Robert Putnam's Work Been 'A Total Failure'?
Or is he just applying the wrong Public Expert Archetype to himself?
Robert Putnam thinks his life's work has been "a total failure."
That seems harsh, coming from the author of the 2000 book Bowling Alone, whose title alone became the indispensable catchphrase describing the loss of community in American life—and made Putnam, a Harvard political scientist, a minor celebrity.
But Putnam didn't want to create a meme or become a cultural icon. He wanted to change the world. "I've been working for most of my adult life to try to build a better, more productive, more equal, more connected community in America, and now I'm 83 and looking back, and it's been a total failure," he tells The New York Times Magazine in a new interview. "I tried my damnedest to sketch a way forward, but I've not been persuasive enough."
Mostly, though, I'm just sad that Putnam measures his impact as a public expert against an impossible standard—and that such standards aren't unusual among researchers.
"Persuasive" is a telling word. As a public expert, Putnam is what I call an Advocate--the fourth of the four Public Expert Archetypes. He's displayed the classic freneticism of the Advocate on behalf of his findings and ideas over the last 25 years, working across so many tools and fronts, including:
Writing books—Bowling Alone, of course, and 2021's The Upswing (written with Shaylyn Romney Garrett), which traces the historical rise and fall of social capital from 1900 to the present.
Meeting many times with government officials (including with President Bill Clinton) about his research.
Holding workshops with elites to figure out ways to crack the problem of declining civic and community engagement (including Barack Obama pre-politics).
Giving innumerable media interviews about his research findings, ideas and opinions about how to solve the loss of community in America.
And, by Putnam's count, traveling and addressing hundreds of thousands of people, inspiring community foundations to follow his recommendations for building more social capital in their communities.
When Times journalist Lulu Garcia-Navarro wonders why Bowling Alone and his arguments about community disintegration haven't move enough people to action, Putnam responds that maybe the problem was with his solutions:
"There are some groups, largely around community foundations across America, that actually are now, they would tell you, following my agenda for trying to fix their communities, who have spent a lot of their time over the last 20 years trying to do what I said they should do. Has that made a difference? I don’t know. I’d be hard pressed to make the case. But that’s, you know—believe me, I’m more aware than you are of my failures."
The consultant in me wonders: Would Putnam have gotten more traction in the 1990s and 2000s with some of today's digital tools and a more populist campaign? For example, look at how social psychologist Jonathan Haidt has turbocharged his "Free the Anxious Generation" campaign against social media and smartphones for preteens and for unsupervised play for children—with everything from Substack to podcast interviews, an art project on billboards in select US cities, even (!) social media.
Or: What if Putnam had given people four clear action steps like those Haidt and his colleagues use: 1) no smartphones before high school, 2) no social media before 16, 3) phone-free schools, and 4) more independence, free play, and responsibility in the real world? Laughably ambitious goals...except now six US states have banned cellphones in classrooms.
Mostly, though, I'm just sad that Putnam measures his impact as a public expert against an impossible standard—and that such standards aren't unusual among researchers.
Of the four Public Expert Archetypes, Putnam is most naturally and most usefully an Explainer—the researcher who uses data, narrative and an expert's perception to frame our lives in a new, productive and unforgettable way.
But he wanted to be a revolutionary (or at least a reformer), and he's not alone. The Advocate is still the mode of choice for researchers who want to be public experts—whether it makes sense for them or their audiences or not. About 80 percent of my work is helping my clients craft an argument and a campaign for motivating an audience to action—and it starts with understanding who the audience is and what they'll respond to.
Would-be Advocates need to know, though: Haidt's example is at least as much survivors' bias as it is playbook. The indisputably successful Advocate is surprisingly rare, and understands that advocacy is very difficult and usually a very long game. Evidence and a compelling argument—or even an op-ed in a prestigious outlet—don't by themselves persuade, much less create a movement. The main task for any public expert isn't just to speak the truth; it's to understand what the audience will truly hear. Which, in the case of a certain group of 300 million people in a certain country, often challenges the best political and advertising strategists—much less a Harvard political scientist.
I’ve always thought of Putnam as a hero for describing and providing evidence for a way of seeing what has been happening to the United States over the last 60 years that, once I and so many others heard it, became the way we saw it as well. After Putnam finishes berating himself for his failures, Garcia-Navarro says to him, "Well, maybe it’s just that one man can’t do it alone. We need community." This makes Putnam laugh in recognition. "You’re right!" he tells her. More than he knows.