There's an interesting, and almost throwaway line at the end of one of Dorothy Day's columns from 1966. She's sharing examples of people with radical visions for transforming society from the bottom up. She references an Italian social activist, Danilo Dolci, who organized something called 'reverse-strikes' in which he had over 100 unemployed men fix a public road and was arrested for it. She then closes saying,

"The sacredness of private property is not yet challenged by any but the Marxist."

So what did Day mean by this? It's hard to know for sure, but I can try and extrapolate a bit by first digging into what Marx meant when he wrote about the abolition of private property. It's important to note that what Marx is getting at is not the individual ownership of things; but the seizure of property by the bourgeoisie class to control the means of production and create capital for themselves. This turned workers into wage-labourers. When Marx talks about abolishing private property, he means abolishing bourgeoisie property and restoring it to being the commons.

Coming back to Day's comments around the sacredness of private property, I can't help but think of Hannah Arendt's idea that the modern social era would see the collapse of the public and private realms into one another—describing what would emerge as a sort of "collective house keeping" in which the protection of private interests would dominate the public sphere. Is this not what is happening when pipelines, factories, or vehicles are seemingly afforded more rights and dignity than (certain) humans or the protection of the natural world? What is sacred is what we value above all else.

I also can't help but hear a subtle rebuke to the church when she says only the Marxist has challenged this. Though in typical Day fashion, she extends an opportunity and a challenge to the church with the use of 'yet'. It's never too late.

In another column from 1965, Day quotes St Gertrude, a 13th Century nun, who said, "property, the more common it becomes, the more holy it becomes." For Day, this is of course a call for each of us to do our part. Like the loaves and fishes of the gospels, to share what we have with others and see how in becoming common it becomes sacred. It's about how it is used—and for whom—that makes it so.

I've been trying a new way of reading and note taking in an attempt to cure a bad reading habit I've fallen into over the last few years. Basically, I get into an obsessive note taking approach that copies down what I'm reading as I read it. The problem is that this a) doesn't use much discretion in terms of capture and b) really slows me down when reading a book.

So, I've started a new habit. Rather than taking notes as I read, I'm now using annotation stickies to mark the spots I want to capture. I'll underline or add a line or so of dialogue in the margins and keep going. Part of this includes the discipline of being much more discerning in what parts I want to capture. I am then copying all those annotations into my notes after I have finished the book.

As a result, the way in which I am reading and sharing those reflections on here is changing slightly. I'll likely be reflecting on books after I have finished reading them rather than as I go. And my notes might be a little less linear.

A frequently used line across Dorothy Day's columns in the 60s is a quote from Peter Maurin, that we ought to be working for the kind of society where it is easier for people to be good.

I love this line. I think it gets at something I have long been interested in: how do you get people to make selfless decisions? To work for the good of others over their own self-interest? Framing it in this way—building the kind of society that makes it easier for people to do good—is the right angle. It's about cultivating the context that inspires and enables selflessness and generosity. It's a recognition that we are bound up in systems that shape our behaviour.

In one column in 1962, Day bluntly states that we deny Christ by not working for this kind of society where it is easier for people to be good. For her, the way of Jesus is found in identifying with the poor and the oppressed, working for justice, and nonviolence.

To my detriment, it's been a while since I have read any Dorothy Day so I decided to read a collection of her On Pilgrimage columns from the 1960s.

She writes often of her Catholic Worker cofounder, Peter Maurin, who died in 1949. In one column from May in 1965, she reflects on his philosophy of the freedom to choose. Every one of us has this freedom and it is the core of Day and Maurin's concept of anarchism. Rather than criticizing the state or the church for not doing what we feel they ought to be doing, it is on each person to choose to do their part.

I was particularly drawn to a part where Day writes how there are times when we feel helpless against the big problems or forces in our world. These things cause us fear as individuals. She says,

"Peter Maurin’s teaching was that just as each one of us is responsible for the ills of this world, so too each one of us has freedom to choose to work in the little way for our brother."

The little way is, of course, a reference to St Terese’ little way: doing our small part every day.

I think what resonates here is that fear and helplessness in the face of big problems can so easily take over my thinking. I also get frustrated that other people (not just institutions, but individuals) don’t choose to do their part. But Day argues that the reason to study the saints is to see how their faith manifested in physical work and action for others. I don’t get the sense that she is looking to grand actions, but rather the little way again. The saints show us what it means to love God by loving others in their individual contexts.

Side note: I wrote an essay on Day for my masters that specifically explored her relationship to the saints. I need to put that on here.

Cooperation begins with common knowledge. Ostrom highlights several examples of successful common pool resource systems and shows how one of the key factors in getting people to work together is that they must have a way of sharing information.

In one example, looking at groundwater basins in California, the creation of a public forum became the basis for cooperative action. Having a space where users could share problems and brainstorm solutions together led to them seeing that working together was the best way forward.

I think what is important to highlight here is that in both private and government run systems, information is often kept from the public. This leads to a breakdown in trust where information is seen as a competitive edge or a means of control. I recall reading about Frederick Winslow Taylor and his pursuit of efficiency in factory work in which workers were kept ignorant to how the larger process worked. His theory was that workers didn't need to understand how their part fit into the larger whole for them to do their job. Knowledge was for a select privileged few.

But that breeds a very low trust environment. Cooperation requires trust, and trust requires treating information as a public good.