Political Theory: An Introduction [5 ed.] 1350328561, 9781350328563

Table of contents :
Cover
Contents
List of Illustrative Material
Preface to the Fifth Edition
Part 1: The Foundations of Modern Westernpolitical Theory
1. What is Political Theory? on Problems
Introduction
Defining political theory
Politics as science, theory and philosophy
Political theory in transition or contestation
The raw material of political theory
Normative and descriptive concepts
Contested concepts
Words and things
Political theory and its problems: How to use this book
2. The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia
Introduction
Progress
Modernity, reason and the forward march of history
Progress through reform
Progress through revolution
Tradition
The status quo
Reclaiming the past
Change in order to conserve
Utopia
Key features
Political utopias as political theories
The end of utopian theory?
Conclusion
3. The Problem Of Human Nature: The Individual And Society
Introduction
Human nature
Nature versus nurture
Intellect versus instinct
Competition versus cooperation
The Individual
Individualism
Individualism and community
The individual in politics
Society
Collectivism
Theories of society
Social divisions: Class, race and religion
Conclusion
Part 2: Modern Political Problems
4. The Problem Of Power: Authority And Legitimacy
Introduction
Power
Decision-making
Agenda-setting
Preference manipulation
A fourth dimension of power?
Authority
Power and authority
Kinds of authority
Justifying authority
Legitimacy
Legitimacy, consent and constitutionalism
Legitimacy as ideological hegemony
Conclusion
5. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICS: THE STATE AND SOVEREIGNTY
Introduction
Politics
Politics as government
Public affairs
Power and conflict
The state
From government to the state
Theories of the state: Classical and twentieth century
Global forms of the state
Sovereignty
Legal and political sovereignty
Internal and external sovereignty
Conclusion
6. The Problem Of Law: Order And Obligation
Introduction
Law
The rule of law
Natural and positive law
Law and liberty
Order
Social control
Natural harmony
Obligation
Obligation as contract
Two alternative theories of obligation
Rebellion, the limits of obligation and disobedience
Conclusion
7. The Problem Of Citizenship: Freedom And Rights
Introduction
Citizenship
What is citizenship?
Social or active citizenship?
Universal citizenship and diversity
Freedom
Liberty, its nature and limits
Negative freedom
Positive freedom
Rights
Legal and moral rights
The expanding nature of rights: Natural, human and beyond
Conclusion
8. The Problem Of Democracy: Representation And The Public Good
Introduction
Democracy
Democracy’s essence: Direct or indirect
Liberal democracy
Justifying and criticizing democracy
Representation
Representatives and independence
Mandate theory
Representation as likeness
The Public Good
Private and public interests
Justifying the public good
Measuring the public good
Conclusion
9. The Problem Of Political Community: Toleration, The Nation And Cosmopolitanism
Introduction
Toleration
The foundational case for toleration
Toleration versus difference
The limits of toleration
The nation
What is a nation?
The value of nations?
Nationalism and the world
Cosmopolitanism
Globalization and the end of the nation state?
Transnational communities and identity
A cosmopolitan political community?
Conclusion
Part 3: The Twentieth And Twenty-First Centuries: Problems Of Exclusion
10. The Problem Of Property: Planning And The Market
Introduction
Property
Private property
Common property
The Market
The idea of the market
The ideal of the market
Critiques of the market
Planning
The planning process
The value of planning
Perils of planning
Conclusion
11. The Problem Of Equality: Social Justice And Welfare
Introduction
Equality
Criticizing inequality
Formal equality
Equality of opportunity
Equality of outcome
Social justice
According to needs
According to rights
According to deserts
Welfare
The idea of welfare: Fighting poverty and exclusion
Justifications of welfare
Criticizing welfare: Roll-back, reform or governmentality?
Conclusion
12. The Problem Of Exclusion I: Recognition, Gender And Culture
Introduction
Recognition, identity and difference
Exclusion and identity
What is recognition?
Recognition versus rights and redistribution: Critical perspectives
Gender
Gender and exclusion
Re-reading the history of political thought
Feminism, recognition and gender
Culture
Culture and exclusion
Multiculturalism and liberalism: Recognition as fair integration
Multiculturalism beyond liberalism
Conclusion
13. THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION II: RACE AND COLONIALISM
Introduction
Race
Race and exclusion
The classical critical tradition on race
The philosophy of race and critical race theory: Recognizing systemic racism
Colonialism
Colonialism and exclusion
Criticizing colonialism
From post- to settler-colonialism: The problem of liberal recognition
Conclusion
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

‘A vital and engaging introduction to modern political theory in all its breadth and complexity. This book is an invaluable tool for any student of politics.’ Ashley Dodsworth, Senior Lecturer of Politics and International Studies, University of Bristol, UK ‘This fifth edition of Andrew Heywood’s textbook Political Theory, adapted and improved by Clayton Chin, serves as an excellent introduction to political philosophy and theory. Approachable, comprehensive and updated, this book gives attention to students and instructors alike and is an essential resource for inclusion in more theoretically-oriented courses offered by political science departments.’ Jean-Paul Gagnon, Senior Lecturer of Politics, University of Canberra, Australia ‘Clearly and accessibly written, this is a masterly and comprehensive study of the major concepts and problems in political theory. It relates key figures and traditions in the history of political thought to contemporary debates, covering the diverse strands of liberal thinking, as well as a wide range of critical theories and approaches.’ Katherine Smits, Associate Professor of Politics and International Relations, University of Auckland, New Zealand ‘This new edition of Political Theory is an astute, remarkably skilful and telling account of what political theory is. It is an engaging and stimulating resource for all those who are interested in the topic.’ Ruth Groff, Associate Professor of Political Science, Saint Louis University, USA ‘A highly accessible, compelling and up-to-date introduction to political thought conveyed through the myriad debates that propel it from past to present. Students who read it will not only be able to grasp concepts, but learn how to use them to understand the world we live in.’ Jemima Repo, Reader in Political and Feminist Theory, Newcastle University, UK ‘Newly revised, the fifth edition of Political Theory provides a comprehensive and upto-date survey of the field. Distinguished by its focus on both traditional  and modern political  problems, including those related to exclusion, the book  thoroughly explores the nature and contributions of the discipline.’ Clay Arnold, Professor and Department Chair of Political Science, University of Central Arkansas, USA

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POLITICAL THEORY

iv

FIFTH EDITION

POLITICAL THEORY AN INTRODUCTION

ANDREW HEYWOOD & CLAYTON CHIN

BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC Bloomsbury Publishing Plc 50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP, UK 1385 Broadway, New York, NY 10018, USA 29 Earlsfort Terrace, Dublin 2, Ireland BLOOMSBURY, BLOOMSBURY ACADEMIC and the Diana logo are trademarks of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc First published in Great Britain 1994 This edition published 2023 Copyright © Andrew Heywood & Clayton Chin, 2023 © Andrew Heywood, 1994, 1999, 2004, 2015 The authors have asserted their right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work. Cover Design: Eleanor Rose Cover image © Javier Zayas Photography / Getty Images All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc does not have any control over, or responsibility for, any third-party websites referred to or in this book. All internet addresses given in this book were correct at the time of going to press. The author and publisher regret any inconvenience caused if addresses have changed or sites have ceased to exist, but can accept no responsibility for any such changes. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Heywood, Andrew, author. | Chin, Clayton, author. Title: Political theory : an introduction / Andrew Heywood & Clayton Chin. Description: 5th edition. | London ; New York : Bloomsbury Academic, 2023.| Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2022022212 | ISBN 9781350328570 (hardback) | ISBN 9781350328563 (paperback) | ISBN 9781350328594 (epub) | ISBN 9781350328587 (pdf) | ISBN 9781350328600 (xml) Subjects: LCSH: Political science. Classification: LCC JA71 .H495 2023 | DDC 320.01–dc23/eng/20220815 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022022212 ISBN: HB: 978-1-3503-2857-0 PB: 978-1-3503-2856-3 ePDF: 978-1-3503-2858-7 eBook: 978-1-3503-2859-4 Typeset by Integra Software Services Pvt. Ltd. To find out more about our authors and books visit www.bloomsbury.com and sign up for our newsletters.

For Ana and Dax, who always think the best thoughts.

“The peculiar evil of silencing the expression of opinion is, that it is robbing the human race; posterity as well as the existing generation; those who dissent from the opinion, still more than those who hold it. If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.” — John Stuart Mill, On Liberty “Barren, barren and trivial are these words. But not barren the experience.” — Olaf Stapledon, Star Maker

viii

SUMMARY OF CONTENTS List of Illustrative Material

xv

Preface to the Fifth Edition

xvii

PART 1: THE FOUNDATIONS OF MODERN WESTERN POLITICAL THEORY 1.

WHAT IS POLITICAL THEORY? ON PROBLEMS

2.

THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL CHANGE: PROGRESS, TRADITION AND UTOPIA

16

THE PROBLEM OF HUMAN NATURE: THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY

42

3.

3

PART 2: MODERN POLITICAL PROBLEMS 4. THE PROBLEM OF POWER: AUTHORITY AND LEGITIMACY

71

5. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICS: THE STATE AND SOVEREIGNTY

99

6. THE PROBLEM OF LAW: ORDER AND OBLIGATION

128

7.

THE PROBLEM OF CITIZENSHIP: FREEDOM AND RIGHTS

156

8. THE PROBLEM OF DEMOCRACY: REPRESENTATION AND THE PUBLIC GOOD

184

9. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL COMMUNITY: TOLERATION, THE NATION AND COSMOPOLITANISM

213

PART 3: THE TWENTIETH AND TWENTY-FIRST CENTURIES: PROBLEMS OF EXCLUSION 10. THE PROBLEM OF PROPERTY: PLANNING AND THE MARKET

243

11. THE PROBLEM OF EQUALITY: SOCIAL JUSTICE AND WELFARE

270

x

Summary of Contents

12. THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION I: RECOGNITION, GENDER AND CULTURE

298

13. THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION II: RACE AND COLONIALISM

326

Bibliography

348

Index

362

CONTENTS List of Illustrative Material

xv

Preface to the Fifth Edition

xvii

Political utopias as political theories 32 The end of utopian theory? 35 Conclusion38

PART 1: THE FOUNDATIONS OF MODERN WESTERN POLITICAL THEORY 1.

3. THE PROBLEM OF HUMAN NATURE: THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY 42 Introduction42 Human nature 43 Nature versus nurture 44 Intellect versus instinct 48 Competition versus cooperation 50 The individual 52 Individualism52 Individualism and community 55 The individual in politics 58 Society59 Collectivism60 Theories of society 61 Social divisions: Class, race and religion 64 Conclusion66

WHAT IS POLITICAL THEORY? ON PROBLEMS 3 Introduction3 Defining political theory 4 Politics as science, theory and philosophy 5 Political theory in transition or contestation7 The raw material of political theory 9 Normative and descriptive concepts 10 Contested concepts 11 Words and things 11 Political theory and its problems: How to use this book 12

PART 2: MODERN POLITICAL PROBLEMS

2. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL CHANGE: PROGRESS, TRADITION AND UTOPIA 16

4. THE PROBLEM OF POWER: AUTHORITY AND LEGITIMACY71

Introduction16 Progress18 Modernity, reason and the forward march of history 18 Progress through reform 21 Progress through revolution 23 Tradition26 The status quo 26 Reclaiming the past 28 Change in order to conserve 29 Utopia30 Key features 31

Introduction71 Power72 Decision-making74 Agenda-setting75 Preference manipulation 76 A fourth dimension of power? 80 Authority83 Power and authority 84 Kinds of authority 85 Justifying authority 87 xi

xii

Contents

Legitimacy90 Legitimacy, consent and constitutionalism91 Legitimacy as ideological hegemony 93 Conclusion96

5. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICS: THE STATE AND SOVEREIGNTY99 Introduction99 Politics100 Politics as government 101 Public affairs 105 Power and conflict 108 The state 110 From government to the state 111 Theories of the state: Classical and twentieth century 112 Global forms of the state 118 Sovereignty120 Legal and political sovereignty 120 Internal and external sovereignty 122 Conclusion125

6. THE PROBLEM OF LAW: ORDER AND OBLIGATION128 Introduction128 Law129 The rule of law 130 Natural and positive law 133 Law and liberty 136 Order138 Social control 139 Natural harmony 143 Obligation145 Obligation as contract 146 Two alternative theories of obligation 148 Rebellion, the limits of obligation and disobedience149 Conclusion153

7. THE PROBLEM OF CITIZENSHIP: FREEDOM AND RIGHTS156 Introduction156 Citizenship157 What is citizenship? 158 Social or active citizenship? 160 Universal citizenship and diversity 162 Freedom165 Liberty, its nature and limits 166 Negative freedom 169 Positive freedom 171 Rights173 Legal and moral rights 174 The expanding nature of rights: Natural, human and beyond 175 Conclusion181

8. THE PROBLEM OF DEMOCRACY: REPRESENTATION AND THE PUBLIC GOOD184 Introduction184 Democracy185 Democracy’s essence: Direct or indirect186 Liberal democracy 189 Justifying and criticizing democracy 193 Representation197 Representatives and independence 198 Mandate theory 199 Representation as likeness 202 The Public Good 203 Private and public interests 203 Justifying the public good 206 Measuring the public good 207 Conclusion210

Contents

9. THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL COMMUNITY: TOLERATION, THE NATION AND COSMOPOLITANISM213 Introduction213 Toleration215 The foundational case for toleration 215 Toleration versus difference 217 The limits of toleration 219 The nation 221 What is a nation? 222 The value of nations? 225 Nationalism and the world 228 Cosmopolitanism230 Globalization and the end of the nation state?231 Transnational communities and identity232 A cosmopolitan political community? 233 Conclusion237

PART 3: THE TWENTIETH AND TWENTY-FIRST CENTURIES: PROBLEMS OF EXCLUSION 10. THE PROBLEM OF PROPERTY: PLANNING AND THE MARKET 243 Introduction243 Property244 Private property 245 Common property 250 The Market 253 The idea of the market 254 The ideal of the market 256 Critiques of the market 258 Planning262 The planning process 262 The value of planning 264 Perils of planning 265 Conclusion267

11. THE PROBLEM OF EQUALITY: SOCIAL JUSTICE AND WELFARE

xiii

270

Introduction270 Equality271 Criticizing inequality 272 Formal equality 274 Equality of opportunity 276 Equality of outcome 277 Social justice 279 According to needs 280 According to rights 284 According to deserts 285 Welfare287 The idea of welfare: Fighting poverty and exclusion288 Justifications of welfare 290 Criticizing welfare: Roll-back, reform or governmentality?293 Conclusion295

12. THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION I: RECOGNITION, GENDER AND CULTURE298 Introduction298 Recognition, identity and difference 300 Exclusion and identity 300 What is recognition? 302 Recognition versus rights and redistribution: Critical perspectives 304 Gender307 Gender and exclusion 307 Re-reading the history of political thought310 Feminism, recognition and gender 311 Culture314 Culture and exclusion 316 Multiculturalism and liberalism: Recognition as fair integration 318 Multiculturalism beyond liberalism 320 Conclusion322

xiv

Contents

13. THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION II: RACE AND COLONIALISM326 Introduction326 Race327 Race and exclusion 328 The classical critical tradition on race 329 The philosophy of race and critical race theory: Recognizing systemic racism 331

Colonialism335 Colonialism and exclusion 337 Criticizing colonialism 339 From post- to settler-colonialism: The problem of liberal recognition 341 Conclusion345

Bibliography348 Index 362

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIVE MATERIAL TRADITIONS Absolutism  139 Classical liberalism 37 Communitarianism57 Conservatism142 Cosmopolitanism235 Critical theory or ‘The Frankfurt School’ 78 Democratic theory 187 Environmental political thought 180 Feminism308 ‘Libertarianism’260

Marxism249 Modern liberalism 280 Multiculturalism314 Nationalism227 Postcolonialism336 Post-structuralism/Postmodernism82 Republicanism107 Social contract theory 47 Social democracy 194 Utilitarianism22

THINKERS Aquinas, Thomas 133 Arendt, Hannah 89 Aristotle101 Augustine of Hippo 121 Berlin, Isaiah 169 Burke, Edmund 28 de Beauvoir, Simone 314 Fanon, Frantz 331 Gandhi, Mohandas Karamchand 340 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 18 Hobbes, Thomas 73 Kant, Immanuel 230

Kropotkin, Peter 51 Locke, John 217 Machiavelli, Niccolò 104 Madison, James 197 Marx, Karl  263 Mill, John Stuart 168 Nozick, Robert 246 Plato49 Rawls, John 283 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 205 Wollstonecraft, Mary 275

BEYOND THE WEST

Asian values  The Buddhist doctrine of no-self Buddhist economics Comparative political theory Confucianism and authority Daoism and natural harmony

177 54 253 344 86 144

Democracy in African political thought 191 Indigenous peoples as First Nations 225 Islamic state 119 Liberation theology 291 The Maoist revolutionary tradition in China 24 xv

xvi

list of illustrative material

THINKING GLOBALLY Cosmopolitan democracy  Cultural globalization Global capitalism Global citizenship  Global governance Global hegemony

201 322 256 160 117 94

Globality33 Global social justice 286 Global white supremacy 334 World law 135 World society 62

Isaiah Berlin’s ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’ ([1958] 2002) 182 W. E. B Du Bois’s The Souls of Black Folk ([1903] 2007), ‘Of Our Spiritual Strivings’346 Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan ([1651] 1968), ‘Of the Natural condition of Mankind as concerning their Felicity and Misery’ 67 John Locke’s Letter Concerning Toleration ([1689] 1963) 237 Niccolò Machiavelli’s The Prince ([1531] 1961) 125 Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels’s The Communist Manifesto ([1848] 1976) 268

Charles-Louis de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu’s The Spirit of the Laws ([1750] 1989) 154 Karl Popper’s ‘Utopia and Violence’ in Conjectures and Refutations ([1947] 1962) 39 John Rawls’s Justice as Fairness: A Restatement (2001)296 Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s The Social Contract ([1762] 1969) 210 Charles Taylor’s ‘The Politics of Recognition’ (1994)323 Max Weber’s The Profession and Politics as a Vocation ([1919] 1948) 97

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS

TABLE 0.1 The development of Western political thoughtxix

PREFACE TO THE FIFTH EDITION This book introduces students to the modern, Western discipline of political theory: its main debates, concepts and problems. This is no small task within a single book, given the breadth of debates and length of time frame. However, it is complicated by two twenty-first-century circumstances. First, political theory has never been more pluralistic. Beyond the presence of numerous ideologies, traditions and topics, political theory now confronts numerous methods, approaches and aims. Further, no longer does the canon of political thought (its traditional great texts and thinkers) provide unity as the nature of that canon, the consequences of having it, and its effects on the non-Western world are all controversial. Second, we are once again in an age of contentious political ideas and debates. In many Western liberal democracies, political culture and discourse have become severely divided and hostile as increasingly partisan positions divide into a set of virulent ‘culture wars’. These include circulating accusations of bigotry, dog-whistling, silencing and ‘cancelling’ that undermine the open and critical debate our discipline and our liberal democratic political communities require for their lifeblood. Both challenging conditions motivate the approach this fifth edition takes, under new authorship. In addition to significant general updating in the book, and a refocusing on political theory as its own autonomous discipline, three broad changes to this new edition address these contemporary challenges. First, this book takes a problem-focused, conceptual approach to introducing political theory. This entails portraying the modern and contemporary traditions of Western political thought and their key concepts as contributions to (a) the political debates of their contexts and the challenges and controversies they were responding to, and (b) the tradition of political thought generally and other authors any thinker is engaged with particularly. Just like any other approach, this is one way, amongst many, of framing the issue. But it is also a good one for conceiving of the diversity of work in political theory, and the contemporary relevance of issues of exclusion and liberal democratic society that, in my view, are the greatest current challenges we face as theorists and democratic citizens. Second, this raises the second major change: framing political theory around issues of exclusion. The more historical approach of this edition means that the unity and characterizing features of modern and contemporary debates emerge in much stronger terms than previous editions. This text tells the story of the great project of inclusion that dominated much of modern Western thought, and its fits, starts and detractors. It also tells of the dominance of the tradition by the liberal and, increasingly, democratic bodies of thought. However, this project of inclusion is matched by new debates about dimensions of exclusion in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries focused on class, gender, culture, race and colonialism. These are fundamental contemporary challenges to Western political life and thought, and so two new chapters (Chapters 12 and 13) have been added to reflect this. xvii

xviii Preface to the Fifth Edition

Third, as discussed in the introduction, political theory is a textual discipline. This point can be lost on some who want to immediately translate conceptual discussions into applied politics, or who assume that political theory is some sort of conceptual under-labourer to the other political sciences. To demonstrate its unique focus and ‘raw-material’, the book has been refocused on important texts. To this end, a new ‘Focusing on the Texts’ box has been added to each chapter. Among the other changes in this edition are a significant revision, and in some cases reordering, of all the other chapters in the text to more properly situate them in the development and diversity of the discipline. The boxed features have also been significantly revised and streamlined. Additional materials can be found in the book’s companion website. This book was completed in 2021 and 2022, during the global Covid-19 pandemic. I would like to express my keen gratitude to my editor Milly Weaver at Bloomsbury Publishing for her support, patience and encouragement during those uneven times. That has only been exceeded by the love and support of my beautiful family, to whom this work is dedicated. Clayton Chin Melbourne, May 2022

Preface to the Fifth Edition

Table 0.1: The development of Western political thought Period

Thinkers

Common themes

Classical/Ancient

Thucydides

� 

Ideal society

Plato

� 

Justice

Aristotle

� 

City state

Cicero

� 

Citizenship

Augustine

� 

Christian politics

John of Salisbury

� 

True republic

Thomas Aquinas

� 

Natural law

Marsilius of Padua

� 

Just war

Niccolò Machiavelli

� 

Sovereignty

Thomas Hobbes

� 

The state

John Locke

� 

Natural rights

Montesquieu

� 

Political obligation

Jean-Jacques Rousseau

� 

Republicanism

Jean Bodin

� 

Constitutionalism

Adam Smith

� 

Property

� 

Human Nature

� 

Tolerance

Edmund Burke

� 

Liberty

Karl Marx

� 

Equality

John Stuart Mill

� 

Nationalism

James Madison

� 

Capitalism

Mary Wollstonecraft

� 

Socialism

Jeremy Bentham

� 

Democracy

Peter Kropotkin

� 

Cosmopolitanism

� 

Free market

� 

Gender

Michel Foucault

� 

Culture

Jürgen Habermas

� 

Identity/Recognition

Frantz Fanon

� 

Diversity

Simone De Beauvoir

� 

Social justice

Gandhi

� 

Race

Isaiah Berlin

� 

Colonialism

T. H. Green

� 

Welfare

Medieval (circa 500–1500)

Early modern (circa 1500–1789)

Modern (after 1789)

Immanuel Kant Twentieth and twenty-first John Rawls century (Contemporary) Robert Nozick

Hannah Arendt

xix

xx

PART

1

THE FOUNDATIONS OF MODERN WESTERN POLITICAL THEORY

2

CHAPTER 1

WHAT IS POLITICAL THEORY? ON PROBLEMS Introduction3

INTRODUCTION

Every student of politics has experience of political argument. Whether with friends, family or the person on the street, we have argued about how to understand or what should be done in some controversial political issue. These arguments have, The ‘Raw Material’ of inevitably, employed political ideas such as Political Theory9 power, justice, citizenship, democracy and freedom. And yet, during these discussions •• Normative and descriptive we have come to understand that we use concepts10 these terms in different ways from our •• Contested concepts 11 interlocutors. What one thinks is important •• Words and things 11 about democracy, another decries. What Political Theory and another thinks is detrimental to freedom, its Problems: How to Use a third sees as essential. In response, we This Book12 reason, argue and cajole others to get them round to our way of seeing things. In this sense, we are all political theorists as we implicitly reflect on and employ political concepts and arguments. Defining Political Theory 4 •• Politics as science, theory and philosophy5 •• Political theory in transition or contestation 7

Political theory is, thus, in the business of expanding the scope of political thinking. This point, however obvious and banal it may seem, is a necessary starting point as newcomers to the discipline are often struck by the diversity of traditions, approaches and projects. It pulls in many directions with many different types of work and thought produced under its name. From normative analyses laying out the best set of democratic institutions, to critical analyses of postcolonial settler states, to conceptual analyses of the nature of the idea of freedom, there are very different approaches, topics and aims within political theorizing. This raises the 3

4

CHAPTER 1

difficult question of what binds political theory together. Just what is the unity of all the theoretical reflection on politics? Does anything link these diverse forms of enquiry beyond a common branding in political theory? What does it mean to do the work of political theory under these conditions? These are difficult and perennial questions. The discussion below does not hope to definitively answer them. In the spirit of this work, it is more focused on clarifying the variety we find in contemporary political theory by placing it in its context, history and approach. As such, it is important to clarify the scope of this book. This is an introduction to the modern Western tradition of political thought. As yet, there is no unified world tradition of political thinking, and so no text can claim to cover political theory in general. However, the matter does not end there. Within the Western tradition, this is an introduction that is largely informed by the English-speaking world’s approach to political theory. Now neither of these caveats means that this introduction focuses only on Western and/or Anglo thinkers, though they are emphasized as they have provided the key ideas that both later thinkers and political actors have drawn on. This text attempts to make space and push beyond the usual suspects of political theory. But it means that the non-Western and non-Anglo political thinkers discussed are engaged considering their impact on Western and Anglo conversations of political thought. As a primarily textual tradition, past thinkers (their texts and arguments) are the primary ‘raw materials’ of Western political theory and so its debates must grapple with that past and present even as we try to exceed it. All accounts of a discipline are limited; it is important to state these limitations as clearly as possible. This introductory chapter discusses the nature and parameters of political theory, setting out the approach taken in this book. Section 1 engages the difficult question of defining political theory, comparing it to related academic disciplines, and situating it in its historical development (in the West) and its contemporary diversity. Section’2 clarifies the theoretical nature of political theory by discussing the ‘raw material’ of the discipline. Section 3 lays out the approach of this work, and suggests how students can best go about reading it.

DEFINING POLITICAL THEORY At this point, it should be unsurprising that political theory is a reflective discipline. Beyond its work on substantive political topics, it reflects on how it proceeds in its tasks; of what unites and divides its various lines of enquiry; of how it can be improved in light of dead ends and now fruitless questions. As a result, students and scholars of political theory are burdened by far too much, rather than not enough, material on this question. Most of those answers will be partisan. This section, like this book, takes an inclusive approach by defining political theory in a way that speaks to most, if not all, its major strands and its complex history. Combining these enriches political theory. As such, we turn now to two issues: its relation to other academic disciplines, and its history and diversity.

What Is Political Theory? On Problems

Politics as science, theory and philosophy The academic study of politics includes a cluster of overlapping terms that can prove near impossible to relate to each other as categories. A non-exhaustive list could include, for example, political science, international relations, political theory, political methodology, comparative politics, political economy and gender politics. For political theory, two other clusters are particularly important in defining the discipline: political science and political philosophy. Although political science was a child of the twentieth century, it drew on roots that date back to the empiricism of the seventeenth century. In the traditional conception, science refers to a means of acquiring knowledge through observation, experimentation and measurement. Its central feature, the ‘scientific method’, involves verifying or falsifying hypotheses by testing them against empirical evidence, preferably using repeatable experiments. The almost unquestioned status science has come to enjoy in the modern world is based on this claim to be objective and value-free. Political science is therefore essentially empirical, and its task focused on description. It claims to describe, analyse and explain government and other political institutions, political behaviour and wider political life. The 1950s and 1960s was a key formative period for the ‘science of politics’, particularly in the United States, when a form of political analysis emerged that drew heavily on behaviouralism. Behaviouralism developed as a school of psychology (also known as behaviourism), which, as the name implies, studies only the observable and measurable behaviour of human beings. This encouraged political analysts such as David Easton (1979, [1953] 1981) to believe that political science could adopt the methodology of the natural sciences, leading to a proliferation of studies in areas such as voting behaviour where systematic and quantifiable data was readily available. To the extent that political theory was included, it was an under-labourer to this activity, focused on conceptual clarification. To the extent that it was not, it was understood to be a separate, non-empirical and non-scientific form of enquiry inappropriate to the social sciences. Hence, as discussed in the next subsection, the oft-noted fall of political theory in the middle of the twentieth century. Anything from a plan to a piece of abstract knowledge can be described as a ‘theory’. In the traditional social sciences, a theory is an explanatory proposition, a set of ideas that imposes meaning on a phenomenon. All enquiry proceeds through the construction of theories, sometimes thought of as hypotheses – that is, explanatory propositions waiting to be tested and revised. Political science, no less than the natural sciences and other social sciences, therefore has an important theoretical component. Theories, such as that social class is the principal determinant of voting behaviour, or that revolutions follow social conflict, are essential if knowledge is to be derived from empirical evidence. However, formulating theories requires conceptual clarity and precision. That is, it requires the prior task of determining just what democratic government, political power and free action are. In this vision, political theory is the conceptual clarification of political ideas to enable to the construction of theories as part of the process of empirical political science. It is a sub-discipline of political science servicing that enquiry. While the relation between political science and political theory was traditionally built on this hierarchy, political theory and political philosophy are often used interchangeably in

5

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contemporary academic research. That said, they also can be distinguished along specific (though sometimes vague) lines. This is usually said to be a difference of emphasis or focus that can be explained as a product of their differing locations within the university. Quite simply, while both are theoretical disciplines focused on abstract thought about politics, law or society, political philosophy is affected by the general philosophical enterprise, in the same way that all political theory is affected by the task of empirical social science. Philosophy is, in general terms, the search for wisdom and understanding. However, with the dominance of modern science, philosophy has also been seen as a second-order discipline, in contrast to first-order disciplines, which deal with empirical subjects. In other words, philosophy is not so much concerned with revealing truth in the manner of science, as with asking secondary questions about what constitutes knowledge and how understanding is expressed. For instance, whereas a political scientist may examine the democratic processes at work within a particular political system, a political philosopher will be interested in clarifying what is meant by ‘democracy’. Political philosophy therefore focused on two main tasks. First, it attempts to clarify the concepts employed in political discourse. Second, it critically evaluates political concepts and their assumptions, coherence and implications. Whatever its status as a discipline, political philosophy is, thus, self-consciously normative: it is concerned with justifying (or refuting) particular understandings of concepts, and particular social and political institutions or arrangements. These traditional characterizations of political science and philosophy have been subjected to criticism, most of which cannot be addressed here. But they facilitate a more inclusive position on political theory that involves both these visions, or at least revised versions, combined in a distinctive and autonomous discipline. This is to say that political theory is both political philosophy and political science; it is both description (political science) and normative justification (political philosophy). Sheldon Wolin, in his masterful account of Western political thought Politics and Vision, called this ‘explication’. Explication meets the messy task of theoretically encountering the political words, concepts and ideas of the everyday world. Further, it has a descriptive and a normative side. Wolin argues that political theory is an activity of ‘vision’. Vision is commonly used to mean an act of perception. Thus we say that we see the speaker addressing a political rally. In this sense, ‘vision’ is a descriptive report about an object or an event. But ‘vision’ is also used in another sense, as when one talks about an aesthetic vision or a religious vision. In this second meaning, it is the imaginative, not the descriptive, element that is uppermost. (Wolin 2006: 17–18) Description and imagination, explanation and prescription. Political theory involves the analytical, critical and normative study of ideas, concepts and arguments that have been central to political thought, academic and public. It is focused on the twin, and interrelated, tasks of explication: (1) rendering political institutions, life, behaviour and events meaningful, and (2) enabling action and decision amongst the complexity of political life. This produces a rather complex picture. Political theory is related to political science and often supports it in important ways by clarifying methodological, conceptual and normative issues. However, it is no mere servant having its own distinctive resources, aims, problems and methods. Equally, political theory is not another name for political

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philosophy. Rather, political theorists employ similar methods to political philosophers, but with the aim of bringing meaning and right action to the social sciences and political world. Such an inclusive definition is necessary given the history and contestation over the discipline.

Political theory in transition or contestation Political theory has a long, complex history. In some sense the longevity of this history is deeply manufactured, as what we call political theory has only been a self-conscious discipline for about a century. Despite this, the ‘conversation of Western political theory’ is traditionally thought to begin in the classical Greek philosophical tradition, continue in the Christian-dominated medieval era, take its noticeably modern forms from the beginning of the sixteenth century where the major concepts and approaches of the tradition begin to be developed, and shift into contemporary debates after the Second World War. In this narrative, Western political thought has gone through various phases of development since its inception (see Table 0.1). This history is a story of both continuity and deep transformation. Classical political thought begins with the rise of explicitly political texts such as Plato’s Republic and Aristotle’s Politics in the Greek philosophical tradition. This classical period is concerned with questions of the good community, the obligations of citizenship, the appropriate activities of the political vs private world, and other questions stemming from the conditions of Greek political life. These questions do not disappear entirely, though they are deeply transformed in the medieval period by the dominance of the Christian world view, and the issues confronting medieval political communities. Specifically, medieval political thinkers (e.g. Thomas Aquinas) were concerned with the relation between the human and divine realms (and how to model the former on the latter), discerning a divine law for political life from Christian scripture, and the appropriate response to conflicts: within the church (e.g. the issue of heresy); with other civilizations, and between religious and secular authorities. In this way, their thought was wrapped up with the dominance of Christian theology in intellectual life. Interestingly, early modern and modern political thought are equally concerned with both the classical and medieval questions. However, they are also confronted with the emergence of the Renaissance, the scientific revolution, Protestantism and the Enlightenment. Again, the nature and conditions of political life are key framing issues. Modernity is often seen as the era of the state, when our political communities took on a new form of institutional life defined by increased centralization and authority. The concepts and issues that define modern political thought (sovereignty, political obligation, liberty, equality, civil society, capitalism, democracy, etc.) flow from the state and the process of giving it further shape and theorization. Political theory up to and including the modern period has been a textual tradition. This means that, methodologically, it operates through analysis, interpretation and argumentation focused on the texts of political thinkers. Usually, the focus has been on ‘influential’ figures (i.e. the canon), though this list has been historically variable and contested. Traditionally though, this has taken the form of a history of political thought, focusing on a collection of ‘major’ thinkers – from, for instance, Plato to Marx – and a canon of ‘classic’ texts, an approach once widely seen as the defining aspect of the

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discipline of politics. As it studies the ends and means of political thought and action, political theory in this mode was concerned with both: descriptive questions, such as ‘What is politics?’ and ‘What is political power?’; and normative questions, such as ‘Why should I obey the state?’, ‘How should rewards be distributed?’ and ‘What should be the limits of individual liberty?’ This traditional approach has the character of exegesis: it is primarily interested in examining what major thinkers said, how they justified their views, and their intellectual context. Contemporary political theory usually follows modern political thought as the last major period discussed in the history of Western political thought. As a term, it is usually understood to begin post-Second World War. However, in one sense it only properly begins with the revival of liberal political thought in the 1970s associated with John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice (1971). The beginning and middle of the twentieth century is often thought to represent a lull in Western political thought, due to the unquestioned faith in science and the dominance of empirical methods in the social sciences. This decline led the intellectual historian Isaiah Berlin (see p. 169) to ask ‘Does Political Theory Still Exist’ (1962). Since the 1970s, in contrast, contemporary political theory is alive and well and thought to have several key features. First, contemporary political theory tends to emphasize the role of history and culture in political understanding. This implies that what thinkers such as Plato (see p. 49), Rousseau (see p. 205) or Marx (see p. 263) wrote may tell us more about their societies than it does about supposedly timeless political issues. While few would conclude that the study of ‘major’ thinkers and ‘classic’ texts is worthless, most now accept that interpreting past theories must account for their context, and how our interpretations are entangled with our values and assumptions. This has led to a kind of ‘parochializing’ of Western political thought. While universalist themes were dominant in the modern period, in contemporary political thought there are significant questions about the applicability of theoretical claims and how tied to context they are. Second, contemporary political theory has been influenced by the emergence of ‘antifoundationalist’ critiques that questions the rationalism and universalism that were central to Western intellectual life. Often associated with postmodernism and poststructuralism (see p. 82), this framework has been deeply influential on some groups within critical forms of contemporary political thought, albeit in different ways, such as feminism (see p. 308), critical theory (see p. 78) and postcolonialism (see p. 336). Anti-foundational perspectives are not a school or tradition, but a disparate group linked by an emphasis on the contingent nature of all principles, doctrines and theories. They argue that there is no universally valid, or transcendently established, position from which political arguments can be made. For these theorists, this changes the way that theory has been used. It is not a device for neutrally analysing or explaining events (empirical theory), or as a means of political justification (normative theory). Rather, anti-foundationalist theorists use theory as critique. Critical approaches tend to mix explanatory and normative aims attempting to both (a) widen and deepen our understanding of a political phenomenon or event, usually by uncovering obscured dimensions, while (b) drawing out clear normative implications often related to the oppressive nature of those previously unseen dimensions. The critical approaches within feminism, postcolonialism and other perspectives on liberal theory (see Chapters 11, 12 and 13) are prime examples of this form of theorizing.

What Is Political Theory? On Problems

Third, political theory has become increasingly contested. In one sense, this was already true of modern political thought, which included a variety of ideological traditions (e.g. liberalism, republicanism, socialism, anarchism and Marxism) and methodological approaches (e.g. rationalism, empiricism, historical materialism) to theorizing about politics. Similarly, while not often part of the narrative, as Chapters 11, 12 and 13 illustrate, the rise of feminist thought in the nineteenth century, as well as the beginnings of anticolonial and anti-racist theory in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, challenged the very basis of modern political thought before the contemporary period. Nonetheless, it is true that from the early modern period onwards, political thought acquired an unmistakably liberal character, to such an extent that liberal theory (see p. 37, 280) and political theory came to be virtually coextensive. Since the 1960s though, a range of rival political traditions have emerged as critiques of, variations of or alternatives to liberal theory. Examples include radical feminism (see p. 308), communitarianism (see p. 57), environmental political theory (see p. 180), multiculturalism (see p. 314) and postcolonial political theory. Growing interest in non-Western political traditions and the emergence of debates in comparative political thought (see p. 344) is further evidence of this diversification. The historical, anti-foundational and diversity challenges to political theory have led to new ways of thinking about the normative value of modern Western political thought. Political theory has been and continues to be structured by debates that it has been fundamentally exclusive in nature, and this is perhaps the fundamental question we address in this book. The common narrative of modern Western history and political thought is usually one of gradual inclusion. Through the establishment of modern constitutional states and democratic institutions, more groups have been included in the political process. This text adds to and problematizes this usual story of inclusion. While recognizing its value and historical impact, the story of gradual inclusion and democratization in political theory and Western politics must be tempered with the repeated emergence of new social divisions in politics, and new oversights in political theory. Critical traditions have been key to clarifying how the exclusion of various groups (economically impoverished groups, women, Indigenous peoples, racialized groups, even the environment) persists in both Western political life and the canon of political theory. While Western and particularly modern political thought has been a story of inclusion in many ways, it has also been one of continued exclusion and new forms of political oppression and silencing. This exclusion and the way its existence divides contemporary approaches in political theory is, in a sense, the climax of the story of political theory presented here. It is also the reason why political theory is so necessary today.

THE RAW MATERIAL OF POLITICAL THEORY One of the most confusing things about political theory concerns its ‘grounds’. Many students of the social sciences are practically minded. They crave evidence and ‘facts’, and want the study of politics to conform with the modern scientific virtues of rationality, objectivity, reliability and impartiality. In one sense this is no problem. Many political theorists overtly espouse these values. However, there is also scepticism about them as we saw in the discussion of anti-foundationalism above. To complicate the matter further, political theory has no facts or data in relation to which it can be objective. So, what do

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these types of intellectual virtues mean in the context of a theoretical discipline? How can we be objective when facts and data are not at the core of our enquiries? These questions have divided political theorists and so political theory proceeds in different ways: critical, normative, formal-conceptual, historical, materialist (see Chapter 2). But despite this variety it is bound by its ‘raw materials’. What defines political theory, what makes it different from other parts of the empirical social sciences, is that it is a textual discipline. Its ‘raw material’ are the theoretical texts of other political theorists and related fields (e.g. political philosophy, social theory, etc.), and the words, concepts, ideas and arguments within them. It does not collect data in the way that other social sciences do: through methods of observation that extract and measure data from the sociopolitical world. In a sense, words, concepts, ideas and arguments are the tools of political theory. They are how we engage in enquiry and how we produce the ‘knowledge’ of the discipline. As such, it is necessary to reflect on language as the means and ends of political theory. Language is inherently a slippery and elusive medium, and this is no truer than in the political concepts of political theory. In its simplest sense, a concept is a general idea about something, usually expressed in a single word or a short phrase. A concept is more than a proper noun or a name. There is a difference between talking about a cat (a specific cat) and having a general concept of a ‘cat’. The concept of a cat is not a ‘thing’ but an ‘idea’, an idea composed of the various attributes that give a cat its distinctive character – ‘a furry mammal’, ‘small’, ‘domesticated’, ‘catches mice’ and so on. Concepts are therefore ‘general’ in the sense that they can refer to many objects, indeed to any object that complies with the general idea. Concept formation is an essential step in the process of reasoning. Concepts are the tools with which we think, criticize, argue, explain and theorize. Merely perceiving the external world does not give us knowledge. To make sense of the world we must impose meaning on it, and we do this through the construction of concepts. Quite simply, to treat a cat as a cat, we must first have a concept of what it is. Precisely the same applies to the process of political reasoning: we build up our knowledge of the political world not simply by looking at it, but by developing concepts that help us make sense of it. Political concepts are therefore political thought’s basic units of meaning, its raw material. A series of difficulties nevertheless arise.

Normative and descriptive concepts The first problem encountered with political concepts is that they are often, and some would argue always, difficult to disentangle from the moral and philosophical views of those who advance them. This is explicitly acknowledged in the case of prescriptive or normative concepts, usually categorized as ‘values’. Values refer to moral principles or ideals: that which should, ought to or must be brought about. Examples of political values include ‘justice’, ‘liberty’, ‘human rights’, ‘equality’ and ‘toleration’. By contrast, another range of concepts are supposedly more securely anchored in that they refer to phenomenon out in the world which have an objective and measurable existence: they refer to what is. Concepts such as ‘power’, ‘authority’, ‘order’ and ‘law’ are categorized in this sense as descriptive rather than normative. As facts can be proved to be either true or false, descriptive concepts have often been portrayed as neutral or value-free.

What Is Political Theory? On Problems

However, in politics thought and discourse, and facts and values, are invariably interlinked, and even apparently descriptive concepts are loaded with normative assumptions. This can be seen, for instance, in the case of ‘power’. If power is defined as ‘the capacity to influence the behaviour of others’, it is certainly possible to use the concept descriptively to say who possesses power and who does not, and to examine the basis on which it is exercised. However, there will be normative content to how you do so in at least two ways. First, how you define, identify and measure power has different normative implications (see Chapter 4). Second, it is impossible to completely divorce the concept from value judgements about when, how and why power should be exercised. In short, no one is neutral about power. All political concepts, descriptive as well as normative, therefore should be understood in light of wider normative and ideological perspectives.

Contested concepts A further problem is that political concepts are not only employed by scholars but are key to the linguistic political activity of actors. They thus are the subject of intellectual and political controversy. Politics is, in part, a struggle over the legitimate meaning of terms and concepts. This is reflected in attempts to establish a particular conception of a concept as objectively correct, as in the case of true democracy, true freedom, true justice and so on. A way out of this dilemma was suggested by W. B. Gallie (1955/6), who suggested that in the case of concepts such as ‘power’, ‘justice’ and ‘freedom’ controversy runs so deep that no neutral or settled definition can ever be developed. These concepts should be recognized as ‘essentially contested concepts’. In effect, each term encompasses a number of rival concepts, none of which can be accepted as its ‘true’ meaning. To acknowledge that a concept is essentially contested is not to abandon the attempt to understand it, but rather to recognize that competing versions of the concept may not be subject to rational resolution. This view has, however, been subject to at least two qualifications (Ball 1988). First, many theorists who attempt to apply Gallie’s insights (see, for example, Lukes [(1975) 2004] in relation to ‘power’) continue to defend their preferred interpretation of a concept against rivals. Essential contestability does not imply equal validity and there may be a variety of reasons (descriptive and normative) that can be given for why we should prefer one definition over another. Second, certain concepts are now contested that were once the subject of widespread agreement. For instance, the wide-ranging and deep disagreement that currently surrounds ‘democracy’ only emerged from the late eighteenth century onwards alongside new forms of ideological thinking. As a result, it is perhaps better to treat contested concepts as ‘currently’ contested (Birch 2007) or as ‘contingently’ contested (Ball 1997).

Words and things The final problem with political concepts is what may be called the fetishism of concepts. This occurs when concepts are treated as though they have a concrete existence separate from the human beings who use them. In short, words are treated as things, rather than as devices for understanding things. The German sociologist Max Weber (1864–1920) attempted to deal with the problem of the limited explanatory power of concepts by classifying particular terms as ‘ideal types’. An ideal type is a mental construct in which an attempt is made to draw out meaning from an otherwise almost infinitely complex

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reality through the presentation of a logical extreme. Ideal types are therefore explanatory tools, not approximations of reality; they neither ‘exhaust reality’ nor do they offer an ethical ideal. Concepts such as ‘democracy’, ‘human rights’ and ‘capitalism’ are thus more rounded and coherent than the unshapely realities they seek to describe. Weber himself treated ‘authority’ and ‘bureaucracy’ as ideal types. The importance of recognizing particular concepts as ideal types is that it underlines the fact that concepts are only analytical tools. For this reason, it is better to think of concepts or ideal types not as being ‘true’ or ‘false’, but merely as more or less ‘useful’. Further attempts to emphasize the contingent nature of political concepts have, as noted earlier, been associated with anti-foundationalism. Particularly influential here have been postmodernism and post-structuralism. While there are strong difference within and between these groups, they in general reject the ‘traditional’ search for universal values acceptable to everyone and at all times. Instead, they often take a more contextualist position that there is a plurality of legitimate ethical and political positions, and that our language and political concepts can only be valid (descriptively and normatively) in a specific context. Some extend this claim to argue for an active role for language, where language itself is constitutive of both our normative and descriptive horizons: that how we understand the world and what we think is valid in it is a product of our linguisticcultural systems. For example, in the ‘deconstructive’ writings of Jacques Derrida (see p. 83), it is an illusion to believe that language, and therefore concepts, can ‘fit’ the world. All we can do is recognize how reality is constructed by and for us through our language. As Derrida put it, ‘There is no outside-text’.

POLITICAL THEORY AND ITS PROBLEMS: HOW TO USE THIS BOOK Political theory is, like most academic disciplines, a practice. This means a couple of things. First, political theory is political. It is defined not only by the insights it produces but also by the aims it puts that knowledge to. Second, political theory is something some people do. While it can offer important insights, it is composed of a community of scholars producing and interpreting work. Further, all those scholars are people in particular circumstances. The influential historian of political thought Quentin Skinner argued that key to the meaning of any political text is its locutionary meaning (what the author argues for) and its illocutionary meaning (what the author was doing in putting this argument to a certain debate). The latter concerns the context of the debate, how it relates to other positions, and what actions and behaviour it prompts. For Skinner, political theory is prompted by and responding to the tensions, problems, conversations and controversies of its time. As noted above, this contextualism is now a major trend, as well as point of contention, within current debates in political theory. This work accepts it though to the extent that it approaches the Western tradition of political thought as arising within a particular history and set of contexts. In light of this, this book takes a problem-focused, conceptual approach to the task of introducing political theory. This means it presents the modern and contemporary traditions of Western political thought and their key concepts as engaged with and

What Is Political Theory? On Problems

responding to the political debates of their contexts (and the problems under discussion there) as well as the tradition of political thought generally. Just like any other approaches, this is still a particular way of conceiving political theory, and so is just like others, it is one way of framing the issue. But it is also a good one for conceiving of the diversity of work in political theory, and the contemporary relevance of issues of exclusion and liberal democratic society that are the greatest current challenges we face as theorists and as democratic citizens. In this way, this book introduces political theory by considering the major concepts and ideas of political debate and argument and how those have evolved towards the present. It reflects on how the terms have been used and the meanings that have been assigned to them, the problems they have been addressed towards, as well as the role they have played in political thought. To elaborate these concepts in this way, each chapter introduces a problem that structures the concepts, ideas and arguments engaged there. Further, the ordering of the chapter conforms to a chronologically unfolding logic that progressively builds the main debates in modern and Western political thought in a way that moves from early modern to modern to contemporary. Such a chronology cannot be perfect, but it gives the sense of the development and shift in the conversation while highlighting how new issues have arisen on top of old ones (that are not necessarily resolved but often return). Part 1 ‘The Foundations of Modern Western Political Theory’ is composed of three chapters (including this introductory chapter). It analyses concepts and issues that can be thought of as foundational within political theory: zz Chapter 2 reflects on the understandings of political change as one of the grounds of modern political thought. It distils several themes to understanding change, and how they structure theories. zz Chapter 3 examines one of the most controversial grounds of political thought: debates on human nature. Related to conceptions of the individual and society, these debates have been central to modern Western political theory. Part 2 ‘Modern Political Problems’ sets out the major problems, concepts and conversations that structured modern political thought, all of which continue into the present: zz Chapter 4 examines issues related to how people influence one another, reflecting on whether this is done through the exercise of power or the exercise of authority, and how far each can establish legitimacy. zz Chapter 5 focuses on the question of the state, and how this concept is central to our understanding of politics in political theory. Debates over the state have often set the parameters of ‘the political’, meaning the state is a key locus of conceptual debate. zz Chapter 6 considers the nature and role of law, reflecting on the extent to which law is required to ensure order, as well as the complex issue of the relationship between law and justice. zz Chapter 7 examines debates concerning the proper relationship between the individual and the state (i.e. citizenship), especially as these relate to the interlocking ideas of rights, obligations and freedom. zz Chapter 8 discusses who should rule, looking especially at democracy and the notion of popular rule, together with the related ideas of representation and the common good.

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zz Chapter 9 reflects on modern political communities, how they are tied up with claims of national identity and the larger international world, and the issues these raise for political theorists. Part 3 ‘The Twentieth and Twenty-First Centuries: Problems of Exclusion’ considers key issues centred on the idea that the dominant ideals of Western modernity, discussed in Part 2, have excluded certain groups. These criticisms are not necessarily new to the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, however, they have dominated debates there and continue to set the current agenda: zz Chapter 10 considers the theme of political economy by discussing competing notions of property distribution and the rival merits of the two key forms of economic organization: the market and planning. zz Chapter 11 considers the nature and implications of equality, reflecting on debates about social justice and welfare, and thus on the issue of the proper distribution of wealth in society. zz Chapter 12 considers the problem of exclusion and how debates around recognition in political theory raised issues about the exclusion of sociopolitical minorities. This chapter particularly focuses on culture and gender. zz Chapter 13 continues debates around exclusion by examining issues around race and colonialism, and their impacts on contemporary political theory. Throughout the book, additional material is provided through boxed features. Each of these has a particular role. zz ‘Focusing on the texts’ boxes These examine one text that is deeply associated with and historically important for the chapter. Political theory is a textual discipline and these boxes demonstrate the interpretive work of political theory: dealing with difficult texts and arguments. zz ‘Tradition’ boxes These introduce the major approaches to, or perspectives on, political theory, each offering a distinctive ‘lens’ on the political world. These traditions not only shape our understanding of political concepts but also structure political argument across a range of issues. zz ‘Thinker’ boxes These provide brief biographical information about major figures in political thought and discuss the significance of their contribution. Shorter overviews of other key theorists are at the end of each tradition box. zz ‘Thinking globally’ boxes These reflect on where and how key political ideas have been revised in light of globalizing tendencies. They examine how political theory is adapting to the challenge of increased interconnectedness, as well as how far it should adapt. zz ‘Beyond the West’ boxes These temper the essentially Western approach to political theory adopted in the book by examining selected non-Western approaches to a given topic. Their purpose is to deepen our grasp of Western approaches, while stimulating reflection on what may be learnt from the non-West.

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All of these features should guide how you use this text. There is an overall narrative to the book, around the modern conversation of Western political theory and the tensions it encounters in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, but each chapter is also standalone. Further, each will contain a series of cross-referencing page suggestions that allow you to see where discussions are taken up in more detail. Use these to narrow in on issues of particular interest as well as forecast later dominant debates. The boxed features should be used selectively as opportunities to examine further details and avenues stemming from the topics at hand. They expand on topics and provide key opportunities to move beyond the text for independent learning, the true task of every political theorist.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What might it mean to have a theory about politics? yy Is there a problem with the diversity of political theory? yy What is the significance of the centrality of language to the activity of political theory?

yy Why are political concepts so often the subject of intellectual and ideological controversy? yy Is political theory different from other disciplines in terms of the role of contestation?

FURTHER READING Dryzek, J., Honig, B. and Phillips, A. (eds) The Oxford Handbook of Political Theory (2008). A comprehensive and stimulating collection of essays that review the current state of political theory, and include a consideration of non-Western and postcolonial thought. Leopold, D. and Stears, M. (eds) Political Theory: Methods and Approaches (2008). A collection of essays that examine the methods and approaches employed in political theory, and reflect on the relationship between political theory and adjacent subjects.

Ryan, A. On Politics: A History of Political Thought from Herodotus to the Present (2013). An erudite and highly readable account of the full sweep of Western political thought, which reflects on different approaches to human governance. Wolin, S. Politics and Vision (2004). A pluralistic and comprehensive account of Western political thinking that manages to cover the diverse traditions in political thought while weaving them into a single narrative.

CHAPTER 2

THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL CHANGE: PROGRESS, TRADITION AND UTOPIA Introduction16 Progress18 •• Modernity, reason and the forward march of history 18 •• Progress through reform 21 •• Progress through revolution23 Tradition26 •• The status quo 26 •• Reclaiming the past 28 •• Change in order to conserve29 Utopia30 •• Key features 31 •• Political utopias as political theories32 •• The end of utopian theory?35 Conclusion38

INTRODUCTION Change is one of the central themes of modern and contemporary political thought. Unlike earlier phases of Western political thinking, where perennial moral and religious norms were assumed to justify a static political ideal, these debates assume that change is the nature of political life. In this way, politics is dynamic, always shifting and moving. Part of the reason for this is historical itself, modern political thought is a reaction to modern conditions, and change across economic life, social relations and political institutions has been endemic to that period. The German philosopher G. W. F Hegel summed this up well, ‘For the rest it is not difficult to see that our epoch is a birth-time, and a period of transition. The Spirit of man has broken with the old order of things hitherto prevailing, and with the old ways of thinking’ ([1807] 2004). 16

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

The widespread agreement on change in modernity belies a deep controversy in modern political thought around how to react to change. This disagreement includes two issues. First, there are the questions of how to understand and assess change and its relation to politics. The former is descriptive while the latter is normative. However, in practice these questions have been interwoven. In the first place, is change desirable? Does change involve growth or decline, progress or decay; should it be welcomed or resisted? Some have turned firmly against change in the name of tradition and continuity. But this has meant anything from a simple wish to remain faithful to the past to an acceptance of ‘natural’ change or the desire to return to an earlier ‘golden age’. Such traditionalist views, however, became increasingly difficult as the modern idea of progress took root. Progress implies that human history is characterized by advances in knowledge and the ever higher levels of civilization: all change is for the good. Nevertheless, even if change should be welcomed, what form should it take? This has usually been posed as a choice between two notions of progress: reform or revolution. Second, there is the related question of how to make political theory an active force in that change: through what method should political thought seek to impact how we pursue economic, social and political change? Should political thought focus on criticizing the present to motivate actors to seek change? Should it focus on articulating normative justifications of more ideal sets of political institutions: blueprints for a just, stable or free society we should work for? Or even more radically, should it focus on the construction of a perfect society, a utopia? What is utopianism, and which political doctrines have utopian characteristics? More importantly, is utopian thinking vital for the success of any progressive political project, or is it a recipe for repression? Together, these issues of how to understand and assess change, and how to make political theory an agent of good change, lead to a fundamental problem in Western political thought. The problem of political change is the problem of the foundations of change: how we understand, manage, prescribe and justify political changes. It addresses the multiple ways that modern and contemporary political theorists thematize change. Importantly these different thematics are not necessarily mutually exclusive. While some authors may only deploy one, others will mix and match them. What is clear is that the task of modern and contemporary theory is prompted by and a reaction to the pace of change. The task of political theory is to be actively engaged in this process of reshaping of the world. As Marx famously claimed in ‘Theses on Feuerbach’ ([1845] 1968) ‘The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways; the point, however, is to change it.’

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THINKER GEORG WILHELM FRIEDRICH HEGEL (1770–1831) German philosopher. Hegel was the founder of modern idealism and developed the paradigmatic idealist argument that consciousness and material life are unified. In Phenomenology of Spirit ([1807] 1977), he sought to develop a rational system that could interpret the entire process of human history, and indeed the universe itself, in terms of the progress of Absolute Mind towards self-realization. In his view, history is a march of the human spirit towards a determinant end point of development. Hegel’s principal political work, Philosophy of Right ([1821] 1942), advanced an organic theory of the state that portrayed it as the highest expression of human freedom. He identified three ‘moments’ of social existence: the family, civil society and the state. Within the family a ‘particular altruism’ operates, encouraging people to set aside their own interests for the good of their relatives. He viewed civil society as a sphere of ‘universal egoism’ in which individuals place their own interests before others. However, he held that the state is an ethical community underpinned by mutual sympathy, and is thus characterized by ‘universal altruism’. This stance was reflected in Hegel’s admiration for the Prussian state, and helped to convert later modern liberal thinkers to the cause of state intervention. Hegel’s philosophy also had considerable impact on Marx (see p. 263), inspiring the latter’s method of historical materialism, as well as modern liberalism (see p. 280).

PROGRESS Progress literally means an advance, a movement forward. The idea that human history is marked by progress originated in the seventeenth century and reflected the growth of rationalist and scientific thought. A belief in progress, the ‘forward march of history’, subsequently became one of the basic tenets of the modern Western intellectual tradition, uniting several of its major traditions. Liberal thinkers, for instance, believed that humankind was progressively emancipating itself from the chains of poverty, ignorance and superstition. In Great Britain, this manifested in the so-called ‘Whig interpretation of history’, which portrayed history as an universal process of intellectual and material development. For example, in his influential History of England ([1848] 1979), Thomas Macaulay wrote ‘The history of our country during the last hundred and sixty years is eminently the history of physical, of moral and of intellectual improvement.’ Progress also inspired socialists who believed that a socialist society could, or would, emerge out of, or be built on, the foundations of liberal capitalism. The latter had itself developed out of the tensions within feudal agrarian societies, destroying their forms of landed inequality and social hierarchy. However, the basis of the progressive view of modern human history has been challenged on many fronts as an unprovable and ultimately parochial argument. As such, in many senses, the idea of progress in Western modernity is as much about faith as argument. This section examines this problematic and influential idea and its major manifestations in concepts of reform and revolution.

Modernity, reason and the forward march of history Progress is one of the core concepts of Western modernity. That period is often described as distinctive insofar as it is uniquely self-conscious. That is, much of Western modernity

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

has been concerned with understanding, analysing and prescribing the pathway of Western modernity itself, an inward-focus not repeated in earlier epochs. This illustrates that whatever else it is, modernity is a set of attitudes. It is an approach to politics and a view of how to go about political life. That view is revealed in the wider usage of the term ‘modern’, which means the up to date, the now. Upon what is the perpetual ‘up-todatedness’ (to coin a horrible term) based? Reason is the purported engine of modernity. In modernity, the human capacity to reason takes on a singular significance as the new basis of sociopolitical life. Alain Touraine, a French sociologist, argued: The most powerful Western conception of modernity, and the one which has had the most profound effects, asserted above all that rationalization required the destruction of so-called traditional social bonds, feelings, customs and beliefs, and that the agent of this modernisation was neither a particular category or social class, but reason itself and the historical necessity that was paving the way for its triumph. (1995) This conception of reason understands politics as an essentially human creation within our ability to change. A focus on reason thus gives new powers to humanity, in two ways. First, armed with reason, human beings could for the first time not only explain the natural world but also start to understand the society in which they live and the process of history itself. Second, the power of reason gave human beings the capacity to shape their own destinies, individual and collective. In this way politics becomes about human judgement (i.e. our judgement becomes the sole grounds of whether to pursue, or not, an ideal, institution, or political programme). Human agency, our ability to act and choose, has a new explanatory and normative significance in this framework. The understanding and valuation of reason in modernity (and the rationalist intellectual tradition it spawned) was partly a product of the scientific revolution. Science seemed to provide a rational and reliable form of enquiry through which human beings could acquire objective knowledge. As such, it emancipated human beings from the religious doctrines, which had previously shackled intellectual enquiry, and promoted the secularization of Western thought. Armed with reason operationalized in the methods of science, humanity gained the capacity to shape their own destinies. When problems exist, solutions can be found; when obstacles block human advance, these can be overcome; when defects are identified, remedies are available. Rationalism therefore emancipates humankind from the grip of the past, and so from the weight of custom and tradition. Instead, it makes possible learning from the past, its successes and failures, and moving forward. The process of history is thus marked by the accumulation of human knowledge. Each new generation can advance beyond the last. In modern social and political thought, history, interpreted through reason, thus becomes the key resource of thinking politics. In this, faith in progress created a form of historicism (a method of reflection focused in analysing the past), in that it portrays human history as a repository of knowledge for understanding sociopolitical life, and constructing the future. Historical claims become a key ground for political argument in thinkers as diverse as Niccolò Machiavelli, Thomas Hobbes and Karl Marx. However, the modern tendency has been to see this as an inevitable process, leading humankind from lower levels of civilization to higher ones. For example, this is reflected in the use of evolutionary and

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biological metaphors such as ‘growth’ or ‘adaptation’ to describe the process of historical change. But on what basis is it possible to portray history as irresistible progress? A belief in inevitable progress is reflected in the tendency in modern political thought to interpret economic, social and political change in terms of ‘modernization’ and ‘development’. The political and social upheavals through which advanced industrial societies came into existence have, for instance, often been described as a process of modernization. To be ‘modern’ implies an advance in relation to the past, a movement away from the ‘old-fashioned’ or ‘out of date’. Political modernization is usually thought to involve the emergence of constitutional government, the safeguarding of civil liberties and the extension of democratic rights. In short, a ‘modern’ political system is a liberal democratic one. Social modernization, in turn, is closely linked to the spread of industrialization and urbanization. ‘Modern’ societies possess efficient industrialized economies and a high level of material affluence. In the same way, Western industrialized societies are often described as ‘developed’ by comparison with the ‘underdeveloped’ or ‘developing’ world. Such terminology implies that the liberal democratic political systems and industrialized economies found in the West mark a higher level of civilization compared with the more ‘traditional structures’ found in parts of Africa, Asia and Latin America. In such cases, ‘traditional’ implies backwardness. Moreover, to describe the modernization in the West as ‘development’ suggests that it is the likely and desirable path that non-Western societies will walk. Human history is portrayed as an onward march with Western societies in the vanguard. As a result, modernity has often been criticized as a foundationalism. The earlier valuation of science is key to this, as it seems to offer an epistemologically privileged way to enquire into sociopolitical issues. However, foundationalism in sociopolitical thought tends to go beyond this. It is the idea that society and politics are somehow grounded by principles that are undeniable and immune to revision (i.e. universal) and exterior to the realms of society and politics (i.e. transcendent). These foundations assure stability in sociopolitical structures built on their principles. In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries this assumption was subject to widespread criticism. While accounts vary, the general idea is that we lack the philosophical (i.e. epistemological, ontological and metaphysical) grounds to make political imperatives flow from philosophical conclusions. This creates a problem of justifying the normative claims and critical analyses political thought offers. Faith in the idea of progress is not universal. On the one hand, many critics point out that interpreting political and social progress in exclusively Western terms both fails to appreciate the distinctive culture and traditions of non-Western societies and ignores the possibility of other models of development. On the other hand, the very idea of change as progress has been questioned. This position, usually adopted by conservative theorists, suggests that faith in rationality is misplaced. As Edmund Burke suggested, the world is simply too complicated for humans to comprehend fully. If this is true, ‘systems of thought’, typically devised by liberal and socialist theorists, will inevitably simplify the reality they explain. No reliable ‘blueprint’ exists that enables human beings to rethink their world. Where attempts have been made to improve political and social circumstances, whether through reform or revolution, conservatives often warn, in Oakeshott’s words, that ‘the cure may be worse than the disease’.

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

Progress through reform For those thinkers and traditions that do employ the concept, there remains an important question: should progress be understood as gradual (evolutionary and reformist) or dramatic (far-reaching and revolutionary)? This section will examine ideas of and argument for reform, while the next focuses on revolution. The earliest meaning of ‘reform’ was literally to re-form, to form again. This meaning, ironically, has a reactionary character since it implies recapturing the past, restoring something to its original order. Such a backward-looking focus was evident in the use of the term ‘Reformation’ to describe the establishment of the Protestant churches in the sixteenth century, because these movements often aimed at restoring an older form of spiritual experience. However, in recent usage, reform means innovation rather than restoration: to make anew, to create a new form, as opposed to returning to an older one. Reform is now inextricably linked to the idea of progress. Nevertheless, reform denotes a particular kind of improvement. There are two key points around extent and pace. On the one hand, reform indicates changes within an institution or system that aim at removing undesirable qualities, but do not alter their fundamental character: in essence, they remain the same person, institution and system. For instance, to demand the reform of an institution is to call for the reorganization of its structure, the alteration of its powers or the change of its functions, but not its wholesale abolition. On the other hand, reform indicates that the speed of change is gradual, introduced on a schedule that allows adaptation. In that sense, reform is opposed to revolution: it represents change within continuity. Indeed, to advocate reform it is necessary to believe that the person, institution or system in question has the capacity to be improved and that its problems are not morally irredeemable. Political reform therefore stands for changes that take place within the existing constitutional structure. It is a qualified endorsement of the status quo, suggesting that existing institutions, structures and systems are preferable to new ones provided they are improved. In this sense, to advocate reform is to prefer evolutionary over revolutionary change, a stance adopted by liberals and social democrats. Liberal reformism, as a model of institutional organization, is often associated with the philosophical tradition of utilitarianism (see p. 22). Founded by Jeremy Bentham (see p. 22), utilitarianism is a theoretical account of human interests and a logic of sociopolitical improvement. It is grounded on the view that all individuals seek to maximize their happiness; that is, their theory stems from an account of human nature that takes humans as primarily motivated to satisfy desire and avoid pain. The guiding principle of their ‘philosophic radicalism’ is the moral principle of general utility. For Bentham, and other utilitarians, this is the only scientifically defensible moral criterion and it has important political consequences. While nineteenth-century utilitarians are generally classical liberals (in their view of society and the individual), the principle of utility also justified large-scale state intervention into society. As such, Bentham and others advocated a wide range of legal, economic and political reforms. These included proposals to codify laws, remove barriers to trade and economic competition, and extend democracy through frequent elections, the secret ballot and universal suffrage.

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TRADITION:  Utilitarianism Utilitarian theory emerged in late eighteenthcentury Great Britain as a supposedly scientific alternative to the dominant natural rights theories. During the nineteenth century, it came to prominence by providing arguments for a wide range of social, political and legal reforms, advanced by the so-called ‘Philosophic Radicals. Utilitarianism thus provided one of the major foundations for classical liberalism (see p. 37) and a foundation for the development of modern liberalism (see p. 280). It remains one of the most important branches of moral and political philosophy in the Anglo-American tradition. Utilitarianism suggests that the ‘rightness’ of an action, policy or institution can be established by its tendency to promote happiness. This assumes that individuals are motivated by self-interest and that these interests can be defined as the desire for pleasure, or happiness, and a wish to avoid pain. Individuals calculate the quantities of pleasure and pain that each possible action would generate, and choose whichever promises the greatest amount of pleasure over pain. Utilitarian thinkers believe that it is possible to quantify pleasure and pain in terms of utility, taking account of their intensity, duration and so forth. Human beings are therefore ‘utility maximizers’. The principle of utility can be applied to society at large using the principal of ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest number’. The attraction of utilitarianism is its capacity to establish supposedly objective grounds for moral judgements. Rather than imposing values on society, it allows individuals to make their own moral choices as each alone is able to define what is pleasurable and painful. Utilitarian theory thus upholds diversity and freedom, demanding that we respect others as pleasureseeking creatures, and seems to offer a neutral perspective for states to employ when assessing policy.

Nonetheless, it has been criticized philosophically, utilitarianism is based on a view of human nature that is both asocial and ahistorical. It is by no means certain, for instance, that consistently self-interested behaviour is a universal feature of human society. Morally, utilitarianism may be nothing more than crass hedonism. Although he subscribed to a modified form of utilitarianism, J. S. Mill (see p. 168) thus insisted that pleasures that promote personal development are ‘higher’ than other ones. Utilitarianism has also been criticized for endorsing acts that are widely considered wrong, such as the violation of basic human rights, if they serve to maximize the general utility of society. Key figures Jeremy Bentham (1748–1832)  A British philosopher and legal reformer, Bentham was the founder of utilitarianism. His philosophical system assumed that human beings are rationally self-interested creatures who calculate pleasure and pain in terms of utility. Using the ‘greatest happiness’ principle, he developed a justification for laissez-faire economics, advocated a wide range of legal and constitutional reforms, including universal male suffrage. Bentham’s key work in this area is Introduction to Principles of Morals and Legislation ([1789] 1948). James Mill (1773–1836)  A Scottish philosopher, historian and economist, Mill helped to turn utilitarianism into a radical reform movement. Using Benthamite philosophy, he attacked mercantilism, the church, the established legal system and the system of aristocratic government. Mill supported what he called ‘pure democracy’ as the only means of achieving good government, defined as government in the interests of the ‘greatest number’. Mill’s best-known work is Essay on Government (1820).

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

Peter Singer (born 1945)  An Australian philosopher, Singer has employed utilitarianism to argue in favour of animal welfare claiming that an altruistic concern for the well-being of other species derives from the fact that, as sentient, they can suffer. Singer has also used utilitarianism to uphold the cosmopolitan belief

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that people have a duty to alleviate suffering and promote well-being, regardless of national identity. Singer’s major works include Animal Liberation (1975), How Are We to Live? (1993) and One World (2004). See also John Stuart Mill (p. 168)

Socialist reformism, which emerged towards the end of the nineteenth century, reacted to these liberal ideas. The Fabian Society, for instance, placed its faith in ‘the inevitability of gradualism’. They openly rejected the ideas of revolutionary socialism, represented by Marxism (see p. 249), and argued that a socialist society would gradually emerge out of liberal capitalism through a process of deliberate reform. Such ideas were widely taken up by parliamentary socialists in Europe and elsewhere. In Germany, Eduard Bernstein’s (see p. 195) Evolutionary Socialism ([1898] 1962) offered a critique of the logic of revolution in Marxism. He argued that more important than the socialist ideal was the pathway or ‘movement to socialism’: the evolutionary process through which organized workers and their allies would mobilize to enact small pieces of the socialist agenda that would cumulatively usher in a socialist society. Essential was an extension of the scope of state action that would gradually institutionalize socialism. All of this required playing the parliamentary game of winning elections. The general case for reform is that it has two key advantages over revolution. First, by balancing change against continuity, reform brings change peacefully and without disrupting social cohesion. Even when the cumulative effect of reform is fundamental change, because it is piecemeal and over an extended period, it is more likely to be acceptable. The paradigmatic example is the establishment of political democracy in Western societies through the gradual extension of the voting franchise: first to workingclass men, second to women, and (in some cases) third to racialized minorities. Second, reform mirrors the process of scientific enquiry. It is an incremental process, advancing by a series of relatively small steps. The virtue of incrementalism is that it proceeds through a process of ‘trial and error’. As reforms are introduced, their impact can be assessed and adjustments made through further reforms. In this way, reform is a way of bringing about progress through ongoing experimentation and observation. Evolutionary change is therefore a means of expanding human knowledge. To rely on reform rather than revolution is to ensure that our desire to change the world does not outstrip our knowledge.

Progress through revolution Revolution represents the most dramatic and far-reaching form of change. In its common sense, it refers to the replacement of a system of government, quite distinct from reform or evolution where change is within a constitutional framework. However, the earliest notions of revolution, developed in the fourteenth century, denoted not so much fundamental change as the restoration of proper political order, usually thought of as

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‘natural’. This created the idea of revolution as cyclical change, evident in the verb ‘to revolve’. Thus, in the case of both the ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688 in Britain, which established a constitutional monarchy, and the American Revolution, through which the American colonies gained independence, the revolutionaries believed that they were re-establishing a lost moral order rather than creating a historically new one. The modern Western concept of revolution was most clearly influenced by the French Revolution of 1789, which set out to destroy the ancien régime or old order. It became the archetypal model for the European revolutions that broke out in the nineteenth century, like those of 1830 and 1848, and decisively influenced the revolutionary theories of thinkers such as Marx (see p. 263). In the same way, the Russian Revolution (1917), the first ‘socialist’ revolution, dominated revolutionary theory and practice for much of the twentieth century, providing an example that inspired (among others) the Chinese Revolution (1949), the Vietnamese Revolution (1959), the Cuban Revolution (1945) and the Nicaraguan Revolution (1979). Unlike other areas of political theory, competing theories of revolution tend to be focused on understanding revolution by drawing together the common threads of actual revolutions. Hannah Arendt’s (see p. 89) On Revolution (1963b), for example, focused heavily on the French and American Revolutions in developing the essentially liberal view that revolutions reflect a quest for freedom and highlight the failings of the existing political system. Marx, on the other hand, looking to the French Revolution, regarded revolution as a stage for the structure of historical change, where the contradictions that exist in a society reach a level of social conflict which requires a new form of sociopolitical life. Marx realized no two revolutions are alike; each is a highly complex historical phenomenon, containing a mix of political, social and cultural features that is unique, as can be seen in the case of the Maoist revolutionary tradition in China (see p. 24). The Islamic Revolution of 1979 in Iran represented a backward-looking movement attempting to establish theocratic absolutism, quite at odds with the Western idea of revolution as progressive change. The Eastern European revolutions (1989–91), which saw the overthrow of orthodox communist regimes in the Soviet Union and elsewhere, created the spectacle of a socialist revolution being overthrown by liberal democratic revolutions. Among other things, these examples cast doubt on the conventional notion of historical progress.

BEYOND THE WEST THE MAOIST REVOLUTIONARY TRADITION IN CHINA Although Marxism (see p. 249) is a distinctively Western political tradition, in a process that began in the late 1920s but accelerated significantly once China broke with the Soviet Union in 1960, the Marxist-Leninist revolutionary tradition was Sinicized through the work of Mao Zedong. This involved a focus on the peasantry as the revolutionary class, as opposed to the Marxist emphasis on the urban proletariat. In Mao’s ‘peasant Marxism’, a peasant army was used to liberate a proletariat that remained politically passive. Mao also developed a theory of dialectical change that went beyond Marx (see p. 263) or Engels (see p. 250). In ‘On Contradiction’ ([1937] 1971), Mao identified dialectics, or the ‘law of the unity of opposites’, as the fundamental law of thought (‘If there were no contradictions there would be no world’), a stance that has drawn parallels with Daoist thinking (see p. 144).

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

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However, Mao’s major contribution to the theory and practice of revolution was an extreme voluntarism, which stressed the subjective dimension of historical change (‘man’s conscious action’), and was unwilling to interpret class struggle only in terms of objective circumstances. For Mao, revolution was a political, rather than an economic, process. Indeed, Maoist thought reflects an impatience with history allied to the capacity of the people, armed with the proper will and spirit, to transform social reality in accordance with the dictates of their consciousness. In this view, economic backwardness may even have advantages in the advancement of socialism, as Mao implied in celebrating the alleged Chinese virtues of being ‘poor and blank’. Motivated by the utopian belief that it is possible to escape the burdens of history, the Mao era in China (1949–76) was therefore characterized by a series of major upheavals designed to hasten the ‘transition to socialism’. These included the ‘Hundred Flowers’ campaign (1956–7), the ‘Great Leap Forward’ (1958–60) and the ‘Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution’ (1966–9).

Nevertheless, it is possible to identify features that are characteristic of most, if not all, revolutions in the theoretical literature. First, revolutions are periods of dramatic and sudden change. Revolutions involve a major upheaval that takes place within a limited time span. In some cases, a sudden upheaval may precede a longer more evolutionary process of change. In that sense, the Russian Revolution started in 1917 but continued until the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991, its goal of ‘building communism’ still not having been completed. Second, revolutions are usually violent. By challenging the existing regime, revolutionaries are forced to operate outside the existing constitutional and legal framework, which often means resorting to armed struggle or civil war. There are nevertheless many examples of revolutions that had little bloodshed. For example, only three people died in the events that led to the collapse of the Soviet Union in December 1991. Third, revolutions are popular uprisings based on mass participation, and usually involving activities such as demonstrations, strikes, marches or riots. David Beetham (2013) suggested that the defining feature of revolution is extra-legal mass action. The level of popular involvement in revolutions can differ markedly. The Russian Revolution of November 1917 may have been more a coup d’état than a popular revolution, as power was seized by a tightly knit band of Bolshevik revolutionaries rather than by mass action. The key virtue of revolution is its foundational logic: if the system is defective, only revolutionary or systemic change is appropriate. From this perspective, reformism can be condemned on two counts. First, it misses the target: it addresses superficial problems but not deeper ones. For instance, while revolutionary socialists have argued that exploitation is rooted in the institution of private property and the capitalist system of exchange, reformists have focused on improved wages and job security, welfare rights and the struggle for political democracy. Even when such reforms improve conditions, they leave capitalist exploitation intact. Second, reform may be part of the problem itself. For example, Herbert Marcuse in One-Dimensional Man (1964) argued that reform may strengthen capitalism; indeed, capitalism’s susceptibility to reform may be its secret tenacity. The development of political democracy and the introduction of a welfare state have effectively reconciled the working masses to their exploitation, persuading them that their society is just. In that sense, all reform has a conservative character.

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TRADITION A focus on tradition to conceive and prescribe political change is a direct response to the dominance of progress in modern and contemporary political thought. Tradition, in the words of Edward Shils (1981), encompasses ‘anything transmitted or handed down from the past to the present’. Therefore, anything from longstanding customs and practices to an institution, political or social system, or a body of beliefs, can be regarded as a tradition. However, it may be very difficult to determine precisely how long a belief, practice or institution must survive to be a tradition. Traditions have usually been thought to denote continuity between generations, but the line between the traditional and the existent is often indistinct. Whereas the Christian religion is undoubtedly a tradition, having endured for two thousand years, can the same be said of industrial capitalism, which dates back only to the nineteenth century, or of the welfare state, which first emerged in the early twentieth century? A traditionalist stance can take at least three different forms. First, tradition can be associated with continuity with the past, the maintenance of established ways and institutions. Tradition, in this sense, seeks to eradicate change. Second, traditionalism can attempt to reclaim the past, to ‘turn the clock back’. This position endorses change providing it is backward-looking or regressive, a goal often inspired by the notion of a ‘golden age’. Third, traditionalism can recognize the need for change as a means of controlled preservation, adopting a philosophy of ‘change in order to conserve’. This implies a belief in ‘natural’ change. If certain changes are inevitable, resisting them risks precipitating more far-reaching and damaging change.

The status quo The ‘desire to conserve’ has been a core feature of the Anglo-American conservative tradition (see p. 142). Instead of advocating a lurch backwards into the past, it argues for continuity with the past. In essence, this amounts to a defence of the status quo, the existing state of affairs. For some, this desire to avoid change is deeply rooted in human psychology. For example, in his essay ‘On Being Conservative’ ([1962] 1991), Michael Oakeshott (see p. 142) argued that to be a conservative is ‘to prefer the familiar to the unknown, to prefer the tried to the untried, fact to mystery, the actual to the possible, the limited to the unbounded, the near to the distant, the sufficient to the superabundant, the convenient to the perfect, present laughter to utopian bliss’. Oakeshott was not suggesting that the present is perfect or even better than other periods. Rather, the present is valued on account of its familiarity, a familiarity that engenders a sense of stability and security. Change, on the other hand, is always threatening and uncertain: a journey into the unknown that will include loss as well as gain. This is why conservative theorists have usually placed so much emphasis on the important functions of custom and tradition. Customs are long-established and habitual practices. In societies that lack the formal machinery of law, custom often serves as the basis for order and social control. In developed societies, custom has sometimes been accorded the status of law itself. For

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

example, in the English common law tradition, customs are recognized as having legal authority if they have existed without interruption since ‘time immemorial’. The reason why custom embodies moral and sometimes legal authority is that it is thought to reflect popular consent: people accept something as rightful because ‘it has always been that way’. Custom shapes expectations and aspirations and so determine what people think is reasonable and acceptable: familiarity breeds regularity and hence legitimacy. This is why people’s sense of natural fairness is often offended when long-established patterns of behaviour are disrupted. The classic defence of tradition in the conservative tradition is found in the writings of Edmund Burke (see p. 28), especially in his Reflections on the Revolution in France ([1790] 1968). Responding to the social contract tradition in political thought, whose ideas had proven deeply influential in the burgeoning liberal tradition and the French Revolution, Burke acknowledged that society is founded on a contract. However, this contract is not made only by those presently alive. In Burke’s words, society is a partnership ‘between those who are living, those who are dead and those who are to be born’. Tradition reflects the accumulated wisdom of the past, beliefs and practices that have been ‘tested by time’ and proven useful. This is what G. K. Chesterton ([1908] 2008) referred to as a ‘democracy of the dead’. If those who ‘merely happen to be walking around’ turn their backs on tradition they are, in effect, disenfranchising earlier generations – the majority – whose contribution is ignored. As what Burke called ‘the collected reason of ages’, tradition provides both the only reliable guide for present conduct and the most valuable inheritance we can pass on to future generations. The reason, for Burke, is practical: traditions and customs perform key social functions and have proven efficacious over time. Contra Oakeshott, tradition does not merely reflect our attachment to the familiar, but offers a set of social institutions that perform functions that have a key existing role to play in sociopolitical life as it presently exists. Critics have, nevertheless, viewed custom and tradition very differently. Thomas Paine’s The Rights of Man ([1791–2] 1987) was written in part to reply to Burke. Paine (see p. 107) argued that Burke had placed ‘the authority of the dead over the rights and freedoms of the living’. To revere tradition on the grounds that it has endured enslaves the present generation to the past, condemning it to accepting its flaws and its virtues. Furthermore, the assertion that values, practices and institutions have survived because they have worked is questionable. It assumes, not unlike progressive narratives, that human history is a process of ‘natural selection’: those institutions and practices that have benefits for humankind are preserved, while those of little value have disappeared. However, institutions and beliefs may survive for different reasons. For instance, they may persist because they benefit powerful elites. Finally, custom and tradition may be deeply anti-rationalist and anti-modern. To revere ‘what is’ simply because it marks continuity forecloses debate about ‘what could be’ and perhaps even ‘what should be’. From this perspective, tradition tends to an uncritical, unreasoned and unquestioning acceptance of the status quo and leaves the mind in the thrall of the past. J. S. Mill (see p. 168) called this the ‘despotism of custom’.

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THINKER EDMUND BURKE (1729–97) Dublin-born British statesman and political theorist. Burke is often seen as the father of the Anglo-American conservative tradition. Although he was a Whig politician, and expressed views sympathetic towards the American Revolution of 1776, he earned this reputation though his staunch criticism of the 1789 French Revolution in Reflections on the Revolution in France ([1790] 1968). The central themes in Burke’s writings are a distrust of abstract principles and the need for political action to be rooted in custom, tradition and experience. He was deeply opposed to the attempt to recast French politics in accordance with the ideas of liberty, equality and fraternity, arguing that wisdom resides largely in history and, in particular, in institutions and practices that have survived through time. Burke was not a reactionary: he held that the French monarchy had been partly responsible for its own fate, as it had refused to ‘change in order to conserve’, a core feature of the pragmatic conservatism with which he is associated. He had a gloomy view of government, recognizing that, although it may prevent evil, it rarely promotes good. He also supported the classical economics of Adam Smith (see p. 261), regarding market forces as an example of ‘natural law’, and supported a principle of independent representation that stresses that representatives should use their own mature judgement. Burke’s political views were further developed in works such as An Appeal from New to Old Whigs (1791) and Letters on a Regicide Peace (1796–7).

Reclaiming the past The idea of change as reclaiming a past golden age is a more radical form of traditionalist politics that advocates a return to some better past. The necessary caveat is that this is not a common conception in political thought, but one identified in political discourses. Rather than focusing on the value of tradition, this theme focuses on reaction. Reaction literally meaning to respond to an action or stimulus. A reactionary style of politics has little to do with tradition as continuity, because radical reactionaries are intent on destroying. Far from upholding the importance of the familiar, reaction can have a revolutionary character. For example, the Islamic Revolution of 1979 in Iran can be regarded as a reactionary revolution in that it marked a dramatic break with the immediate past, designed to prepare the way for the re-establishment of more ancient Islamic principles. This form of reaction is based on a very clear picture of human history. Whereas traditionalism sees in history the threads of continuity, binding one generation to the next, reaction sees a process of decay. At its heart, therefore, lies the image of an earlier period in history – a golden age – from which society has steadily declined. The call for backward-looking change reflects dissatisfaction with the present and distrust of the future. This style of politics can be found in many historical periods. For example, conservatism in continental Europe exhibited a strong reactionary character throughout the nineteenth century and into the twentieth. In France, Germany and Russia, conservatives remained faithful to autocratic and aristocratic principles long after the rise of constitutional and representative forms of government. This was well reflected in the writings of Joseph de Maistre (see p. 140) and in the statecraft of the early nineteenthcentury Austrian Chancellor Metternich, both of whom rejected reformism and strove

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

to re-establish an ancien régime. Fascist doctrines in the twentieth century were also backward-looking. Italian Fascism glorified the military might and political discipline of Imperial Rome while the Nazis idealized the ‘First Reich’: Charlemagne’s Holy Roman Empire. Similarly, reactionary leanings can be found in the contemporary period in the social policies of the New Right and hostility to demographic change in the Alt-Right. In the 1980s, Ronald Reagan harked back to the conquest of the American West and the virtues of self-reliance, hard work and adventurousness it exemplified, while in the United Kingdom, Margaret Thatcher extolled the importance of ‘Victorian values’. Recent Alt-Right figures, such as Steve Bannon in the United States, have rejected immigration on the basis that the resulting demographic and social changes marginalize the dominant Anglo-Saxon community. However, backward-looking change is problematic in several ways and so has been endorsed by few political thinkers. First, the golden age is at best a selective portrait of the past and at worst a thoroughly distorted picture. Whatever else it was, the expansion of the American West, for example, was a near-genocide of Indigenous peoples. Second, the desire to ‘turn the clock back’ may be based on naïve nostalgia, a yearning for a mythical past of stability and security. Too often reaction embraces a delusional image of the past: there never was a golden age. Finally, even if meaningful lessons can be learnt from the past, it is questionable whether these can be applied to the present. Historical circumstances are the product of a complex network of interconnected social, economic, cultural and political factors. To identify a feature of the past as admirable does not mean it would operate similarly in the present, even if it could be reproduced. All institutions and ideas may be specific to their period.

Change in order to conserve The final conception of tradition is, ironically, a more progressive one. Traditionalists have not always rejected change, or only endorsed regressive change. On some occasions they have accepted the historical necessity of adaptation. The rationale is that narrow traditionalism risks precipitating more dramatic upheaval. The motto of this form of progressive conservatism is therefore that reform is preferable to revolution. This amounts to a form of enlightened traditionalism, which recognizes that, though it may be desirable to preserve the status quo, an implacable resistance to change is likely to be self-defeating. It also illustrates why the modern thematic of tradition is not a simple feudalism in modernity. It is prompted by and a reaction to modern conditions and ideas of progress and so is thoroughly modern in itself. This progressive form of conservatism is usually linked to Edmund Burke. Burke argued that the French monarchy’s stubborn commitment to absolutism (see p. 139) precipitated revolution in the first place. ‘A state without the means of some change’, Burke ([1790] 1968) proclaimed, ‘is without the means of its conservation.’ This lesson was, in his view, demonstrated by the English monarchy, which had survived because it had accepted constitutional constraints on its power. The ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688, which brought the English Revolution to an end with the establishment of a constitutional monarchy, was a clear example of conservative reform. The wisdom of such pragmatism is evident in the fact that, while reactionary conservatism often failed to survive the nineteenth century and was finally brought down by its association with fascism in the twentieth century,

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the Anglo-American tradition of Burkean conservatism has been far more successful. The philosophy of ‘change in order to conserve’ has enabled conservatives to accept constitutionalism, democracy and, at times, social welfare and economic intervention and to do so on conservative terms. Enlightened traditionalism is based on a different view of history. Traditionalism on its own has conventionally emphasized the unchanging nature of human history, held a deeply pessimistic view of history and contained a fear that ‘things degrade’. Enlightened traditionalism, by contrast, is based on the idea of inevitable change that should neither be applauded nor regretted but accepted. This suggests a view of history as largely beyond human control and dictated by what Burke called ‘the pattern of Nature’. This view was linked to the belief that human reason is limited in understanding change. The process of history may simply be too complex for the human mind to grasp, still less to control. However, even when it is intended to conserve, change can create difficulties for conservatives. First, it is theoretically difficult to distinguish between ‘natural’ changes, which should be accepted, and change that should be resisted. This is simpler, as Burke demonstrated, with the advantage of hindsight. It is much easier to point out that the failure to introduce prudent reform led to violent revolution after that revolution has occurred. It is much more difficult at the time to know which of the many changes being demanded are resistible and which ones are irresistible. Second, far from promoting stability and contentment, reform may pave the way for more radical change. In some respects, abject poverty is more likely to generate resignation and apathy than revolutionary fervour. On the other hand, improving political or social conditions may raise expectations and stimulate appetite for change. This may be what happened in the Soviet Union in the late 1980s, when Gorbachev’s reforms succeeded in hastening the demise of the regime by highlighting the deficiencies of central planning and allowing discontent to be widely expressed.

UTOPIA The term utopia was coined by the English thinker and Lord Chancellor Thomas More (1478–1535), and was first used in his Utopia ([1516] 2012). More’s work purported to describe a perfect society supposedly set on an idyllic South Sea island. However, there is significant disagreement amongst scholars about whether the book is intended as advocacy or satire, and whether his concern was religious or political. The word ‘utopia’ is derived from two Greek words: outopia, meaning ‘no place’, and eutopia, meaning ‘good place’. There is thus a purposeful ambiguity here connecting perfection with nonexistence. This lives on in the contemporary usage insofar as utopias refer to (1) ideal societies, and (2) beliefs that are impossible or unrealistic, linked to unachievably high goals. It is therefore unclear whether utopia as ‘no place’ implies that no such society yet exists or that it could exist. A series of further controversies surround utopia and utopianism. For example, does utopian thinking have to conform to a particular structure or have a particular function, or do all projects of political or social enhancement have a utopian character? Moreover, which political doctrines offer the most fertile ground for utopian thinking, and how varied have been the models of political utopia? Finally, is the utopian style of thinking

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

healthy or unhealthy, and why has it been largely abandoned, at least overtly, by contemporary political theorists?

Key features Utopias are, among other things, imagined worlds. Imagined worlds have a long history in literature, religion, folklore and philosophy. Most cultures and religions contain narratives of a golden age or a paradise. These myths conjure up the image of a past perfection, which gives existing society a set of authoritative values and builds a shared sense of identity. Similarly, they can also embody expectations about the future. For example, the Garden of Eden in Judeo-Christianity represents a state of earthly perfection that existed before humankind’s ‘fall’; however, this idea of the ‘Kingdom of God on Earth’ has persisted throughout Christianity’s history (often in debates about the nature of the Christian heaven and Christ’s Second Coming) and has intruded into political debates such as in St Augustine’s The City of God. In Western political thought, Plato’s Republic is often seen as the first clearly political utopia. In it, Plato (see p. 49) describes a society that combines wisdom, justice and order, in that philosopher-kings, the Guardians, rule; the military class, the Auxiliaries, maintain order and provide defence; and the common citizenry, the Producers, attend to the material basis of society. In this case, utopian order flows from Plato’s account of the moral good and his argument that politics requires political knowledge that only philosophers possess. Western utopianism in its modern form has more specific cultural and historical roots. It is a style of social and political theorizing that emerged from the eighteenth century onwards in association with the Enlightenment. Not only did a faith in reason encourage thinkers to view human history in terms of progress, but it also – perhaps for the first time – allowed them to think of human and social development as perfectible. Armed with reason, humankind could remake society and itself in a potentially endless process. This new style of thinking was given powerful impetus by the French Revolution of 1789, which, as a project of wholesale social and political transformation, suggested that all things were possible. Examples of this emerging utopian impulse can be found in Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Social Contract ([1762] 1969), which advocated a radical form of democracy based on the goodness of ‘natural man’; Thomas Paine’s The Rights of Man ([1791–2] 1987), which defended popular sovereignty and individual rights over hereditary privilege; and Robert Owen’s A New View of Society ([1816] 2013), which advocated a ‘rational system of society’ based on cooperation and communal ownership. Utopianism is therefore a very particular approach to social theorizing that develops a critique of the existing order by constructing a model of an ideal alternative. As such, it usually exhibits three features. First, it embodies a radical rejection of the status quo; present society and political arrangements are fundamentally defective and in need of root-and-branch change. Utopian political thought has tended to be revolutionary rather than reformist. Second, utopian thought highlights the potential for human self-development. This usually stems from claims about the highly changeable nature of humanity and an emphasis on the role of economic, social and political institutions to modify human behaviour. Society cannot be made perfect unless human beings are perfectible. Third, utopianism usually transcends the public/private divide in suggesting the possibility of complete personal fulfilment. For the alternative society to be ideal, it

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must offer emancipation in the personal as well as the political/public realm. This explains why much utopian theory has gone beyond conventional political thought and addressed wider psycho-social and even psychosexual issues, as in the writings of Herbert Marcuse (see p. 78), Erich Fromm ([1955] 1971) and Paul Goodman.

Political utopias as political theories While utopianism can reasonably be described as a style of doing political theory, it is not a tradition in any sense. That is, utopian thinkers are not bonded by any substantial claims about humans, societies or the nature of politics. So, utopianism is neither a political philosophy nor an ideological tradition. Utopias differ from one another, and utopian thinkers have not advanced a common conception of the good life. Each model of the perfect society reflects the theory of a particular thinker and a particular political tradition. Further, the way in which utopias are used varies. Only a minority of utopian thinkers have set out to describe a utopia, by providing a full picture of an ideal society. Others have employed the idea of a radically improved society to draw attention to the deficiencies of existing society and to map out possibilities for personal, social and political development. Political utopianism is thus defined more by its structure than content. Nevertheless, certain common themes often recur in utopian thought. Importantly, these images tend to be about the absence of problems, rather than the presence of anything particular. First, utopias must be free from want. It would be difficult to regard a society as perfect if significant levels of poverty exist. Most utopias are therefore characterized by material abundance and the abolition of poverty. For example, Karl Marx’s conception of communism was based on the assumption that, no longer fettered by the class system, technology would develop to a point that material need would be eradicated. Communism is a post-scarcity society. However, this does not necessarily mean that all utopias must be materially prosperous. Want may be abolished by banishing materialism and greed rather than by ensuring material abundance, a stance that has motivated many green utopias. Second, utopian theories aim at social harmony and the absence of conflict. Conflict between individuals and groups and, for that matter, conflict within the individual between competing impulses, is difficult to reconcile with perfection because it will result in winners and losers. A society characterized by competing interests is doomed to imperfection both because it is unstable and because not all interests can be fully satisfied. In order to sustain the idea of conflict-free social harmony, utopian thinkers have usually had to take a position on the sources of social conflict and the nature of a harmony that can overcome those sources. Third, utopian theories offer the prospect of full emancipation. Repression and all forms of unfreedom are, by definition, social imperfections. However, how emancipation is understood is usually the source of contention, as freedom has both individual and collective senses (amongst others). For some, freedom is individually determined and enacted. For others, we can only be free within ethically formed, communal relationships with others (see Chapter 7). What is important presently is that utopian theories are aimed at a full liberation. They are guided by an emancipatory ideal that motivates their criticism of the present.

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

A variety of political traditions have included such utopian features. The important caveat of course is that they often have equally important non-utopian approaches, and often there is explicit criticism between these groups. Nonetheless, feminism (see p. 308), for instance, stresses the possibility of constructing a post-patriarchal society; environmental political theory (see p. 180) emphasizes harmony between humankind and nature; and cosmopolitanism (see p. 235) looks to the creation of human political community based on global consciousness, or ‘globality’ (see p. 33). However, most utopian thinking has been linked to either socialism (and its anarchist wing) or liberalism, the two political traditions that most clearly embody Enlightenment rationalism.

THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBALITY While the processes involved in globalization have long historical roots, going back to the European contact of much of the non-Western world and its subsequent project of colonization, the contemporary phase of globalization may be marked by the emergence of a new phenomenon, in the form of ‘globality’. Globality refers to the ‘consciousness of the (problem of) the world as a single place’ (Robertson 1992). While globalization is a process or set of processes (highlighting the dynamics of transformation or change), globality is a condition (indicating a set of circumstances that globalization has brought about). Globality, or global consciousness, can therefore be the endstate of globalization. Globality has a variety of manifestations. One of these is the growing tendency to think of ourselves collectively as ‘humanity’ rather than in terms of ethnic, national, religious or other identities. This has given rise to a form of moral globality that has clearly utopian characteristics, in that it is grounded in cosmopolitanism (see p. 201) and based on the assumption that the world’s population constitutes a single moral community. There are clear elements of this in the doctrine of human rights, which has grown significantly since the 1940s. Second, globality is evident in cultural trends that have led to a wider acceptance of cultural

diversity, while also strengthening the belief that the emergence of a set of shared norms is desirable. Robertson (1992) highlighted such trends in the processes of ‘relativization’, through which local cultures and global pressures mix, and ‘glocalization’, through which global pressures are forced to conform to local conditions. Third, globality has been advanced by the growth of social reflexivity. This reflects a widening of the range of choice and opportunity that confronts the individual in conditions of increasing interdependence, and has had a major impact on, for example, the nature of family life, intimate relations and sexuality. Reservations have nevertheless been expressed about the concept of globality. It is clearly a mistake to suggest that global consciousness is a mass phenomenon. Indeed, globality is a quality that is largely confined to richer, ‘core’ countries rather than the poorer ‘periphery’. Even within the core, it is far more prevalent amongst privileged upper and middle classes than other groups, and there is strong evidence of populist backlashes amongst the latter. Others have cast globality in a darker light, associating it not with toleration and opportunity, but with increased risk (Beck 1992). From the perspective of chaos theory, the expansion of connectedness across the globe risks a ‘world beyond controllability’, a development illustrated by the inherent instability of global financial markets.

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Socialism in general, and anarchism and Marxism (see p. 249) specifically, have a marked disposition towards utopianism. Early forms of socialism, and prominent branches of nineteenth-century anarchism, countered liberal conceptions of human nature with accounts of human beings as essentially sociable and cooperative. Greed, competition and anti-social behaviour exist only because humans have been corrupted by society, and in particular by capitalism and its associated evils – poverty and social inequality. This brand of utopianism is thus characterized by a historicist and social view of humanity as significantly affected by its society. For many utopian socialists and anarchists, societies without oppression and inequality were present possibilities. For example, Robert Owen (1771–1858), a Welsh socialist, industrialist and pioneer of the cooperative movement, argued that human character is formed by the social environment, and that progress requires the construction of a ‘rational system of society’. His A New View of Society ([1816] 2013), opposed organized religion, the institution of marriage and private property and advocated the construction of small-scale cooperative communities in which property would be communally owned and essential goods freely distributed. Similarly, PierreJoseph Proudhon (1809–65), a French anarchist, attacked both traditional property rights and communism. He argued instead for mutualism, a cooperative, productive system geared towards need rather than profit and organized within self-governing communities. His famous dictum, ‘property is theft’, rejected the accumulation of wealth but allowed for small-scale property ownership in the form of ‘possessions’, a vital source of independence and initiative (see Proudhon’s What Is Property? [(1840) 1970]). On the other hand, many socialisms have been ambivalent or hostile to utopias. For example, while Marx often posits a communist society as one without social conflict, he also distinguished his theory from earlier utopian socialists. In Part 3 of the Communist Manifesto he compared his own revolutionary socialism to utopian socialism (and others), arguing that the latter failed to sufficiently overcome capitalism. Further, his intellectual work as a whole is grounded on the project of supplying a robust (perhaps even scientific) theoretical foundation for socialism in his historical materialist method. Similarly, social democrats, breaking with their revolutionary counterparts in the early twentieth century, seemed to abandon utopianism by reorienting socialist practice to contesting parliamentary elections and building a party-based socialist workers movement aimed at reforming capitalism into socialism. Thinkers such as Eduard Bernstein argued that even Marx’s theory of revolution had been all too optimistic about the instabilities within capitalism and the opportunities for overcoming it. Although the dominant trend within socialism during much of the twentieth century and beyond has been to abandon utopianism, the rise of the New Left in the 1960s marked a re-engagement with idealism. This was evident in, for example, the explicitly utopian ideas of neo-Marxist thinkers such as Ernst Bloch ([1959] 1986) and Herbert Marcuse ([1955] 1969, 1964), which did much to influence the counter-cultural radicalism of the period. The relationship between liberalism and utopianism is even more ambiguous. The stress within liberal theory on self-interest and the individual has often precluded utopianism. Indeed, the social contract theories that underlie much of liberal thinking about the state and government are based on the need for a compromise between freedom (the realm of the individual) and the maintenance of order (the realm of the state). However, the liberal belief in reason, and the associated faith in individual betterment, create a potential for utopianism based on the possibility of human self-development and social betterment.

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

A social contract theorist such as John Locke (see p. 217) could therefore express a nearutopian idealism when discussing the capacity of education to better individuals. The link between rationalism and utopianism was developed very clearly in the work of the individualist anarchist William Godwin, who argued that education and enlightened judgement would allow people in a stateless society to live in accordance with truth and universal moral laws. In other circumstances, liberal utopianism has drawn on the idea of a self-regulating market, taking Adam Smith’s (see p. 261) idea of the ‘invisible hand’ of capitalism to its logical conclusion. Thus, although human beings are essentially self-seeking creatures whose economic interests conflict, the market works to ensure the exponential growth of prosperity, because people can only satisfy their interests by satisfying others’. In the writings of thinkers such as Murray Rothbard, this has led to the construction of anarcho-capitalist utopias in which unrestricted market competition reconciles economic dynamism with social justice and political freedom.

The end of utopian theory? Enthusiasm for utopian thinking has peaked during specific periods in Western political thought: the late eighteenth century, following the 1789 French Revolution; the 1830s and 1840s, during early industrialization and rapid social change; and the 1960s, coinciding with an upsurge in student radicalism and new social movements. However, overall utopianism has been a minority political style that attracted fierce criticism. Most political doctrines are non-utopian and some are explicitly anti-utopian. Anti-utopianism grew steadily in the West during the twentieth century, fuelled by disillusionment with ‘actually existing’ socialism, which was taken as the paradigmatic utopian tradition by critics. Some commentators (e.g. Isaiah Berlin in ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’ and Bernard Yack in The Longing for Total Revolution [1992]) traced the seeds of twentieth-century totalitarianism back to the structure of utopian thought. Moreover, since the late twentieth century, it has become more common to see the future less in terms of hope, and more in terms of impending crisis. Critics of utopianism have attacked it in various ways. As briefly mentioned, although Marxism has some utopian features, Marx and Engels dismissed the ideas of ethical socialists such as Owen and Fourier as examples of ‘utopian socialism’. According to Marx, it amounted to wishful thinking, the construction of moral dreams of socialism. By contrast, ‘scientific socialism’ was based on a theory of history that supposedly demonstrated that socialism is not only desirable but also structurally inevitable. The danger of utopianism is that it channels the political energies of the proletariat away from the only strategies which can bring about social emancipation. In this light, Marx’s more utopian early writings, such as the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts ([1844] 1978), which stress the moral benefits of communism, can be distinguished from his mature ‘scientific’ work, such as Capital, which is grounded in historical materialism. A more thoroughgoing critique of utopianism has been advanced by conservative thinkers. Conservatives oppose utopianism on two grounds. In the first place, they view human nature as imperfect and unperfectable, rejecting one of the core presuppositions of utopian theory. People are innately selfish and greedy, driven by non-rational impulses and desires, and no project of social engineering will alter these. All human societies are therefore characterized by imperfections such as conflict and strife, delinquency and crime. Second, as Michael Oakeshott argued in ‘Rationalism in Politics’ and Kenneth

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Minogue in The Liberal Mind (1977), utopian projects suffer from the arrogance of rationalism: they claim to understand what is incomprehensible. Political projects aimed at a perfect society will produce outcomes quite different from their ideals. The most damning criticisms of utopianism have been produced by liberal thinkers such as Karl Popper (1963) and Isaiah Berlin (see p. 169), both of whom were influenced by the experience of twentieth-century totalitarianism. For Popper, utopianism was dangerous and pernicious because it is self-defeating and leads to violence. He defined the utopian method as a way of reasoning in which means are rationally or instrumentally selected in the light of an ultimate political end. Rational political action must therefore be based on a blueprint of an ideal state and of a particular historical path. This form of reasoning is self-defeating because it is impossible to determine ends scientifically: whereas means may be rational or irrational, ends are not susceptible to rational analysis. Moreover, this style of reasoning will result in violence because, lacking a rational basis for defending ends, people with conflicting ends will not be able to resolve their differences through discussion alone, and may resort to conflict (see p. 39). Berlin’s critique of utopianism associated it with monistic tendencies he believed were embodied in the Enlightenment. The Enlightenment belief in universal reason resulted in the search for fundamental values that would be applicable to all societies and historical periods. Rationalistic doctrines therefore tend to advance a single true path to perfection, denying legitimacy to alternative paths. In practice, this leads to intolerance and political repression. Berlin asserted that conflicts of values are intrinsic to human life; not only will people always disagree about the ultimate ends of life, but each human being struggles to find a balance between incommensurable values. This demonstrates that individual human diversity precludes utopia. From this perspective, the purpose of politics is not to uncover a single path to perfection but to create conditions in which people with different priorities can live together in reasonable peace. Interestingly, these liberal arguments about ends significantly overlap with conservative criticisms. Despite this criticism, there is still a continued space for utopia within post-war liberal political theory, the tradition that has dominated political thought in the AngloAmerican, if not Western, context. This space is found in the ‘ideal theory’ of John Rawls, and its impact on that tradition generally. Rawls argued in his later work that his theory of justice, initially offered in a text of the same name (Rawls 1971), offered a ‘realistic utopia’. Rawls rooted this in Rousseau’s attempt to theorize in a way that takes ‘men as they are and laws as they might be’. That is, Rawls argues we must strike a balance between ideals and facts, that we cannot theorize in the abstract but must reconcile ourselves to our social world while working out the ideal form of overlapping consensus and justice that can facilitate that political context. In his worlds, a realistically utopian theory illuminates ‘how reasonable citizens and peoples might live peacefully in a just world’ (Rawls 1993). The continued prominence of ideal theory into the twenty-first century, despite its critics, speaks to the ongoing importance of utopias. That said, there has been an unmistakable turn away from utopianism within political thought since the 1960s. The decline of utopianism is often thought to be associated with the fallout from two wider political trends. First, the grand theorizing of ‘foundational’ political theories such as Marxism, and to a lesser extent liberalism, has been severely impacted by anti-foundational critiques (see Chapter 1). These theoretical developments have occurred alongside key political

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events: (1) the collapse of the Soviet Union (in 1989) and (2) the significant return of widespread anti-liberalism in the Western world with the increasing political support for populist political parties. Both of course were the products of long histories and gradual steps, but they speak to the present uncertainty around the two great political ideologies of the nineteenth century, whose respective ideals were the ground for utopian thinking. Second, political thought and discourse in the twenty-first century in the West have focused on highlighting the failings of existing society, giving far less attention to analysing a desired future. Movements from anti-globalization to Extinction Rebellion, to #Metoo and BlackLivesMatter are focused more on exposing pervasive and unsolved challenges, often with an impending sense of crisis, rather than defining what a society without that injustice would look like. Similarly, political theorists have responded to this growing list of challenges (and these anti-foundational criticisms) with a diversified and specified interest in the variety of issues confronting liberal democratic societies and a move away from (at least from the dominance of) grand theories that attempt to capture and prescribe politics as such. The discussion of multicultural, feminist, race theory and postcolonial political theories in Chapters 12 and 13 illustrate this diversification and specification.

TRADITION:  Classical Liberalism Classical liberalism is the term often given to the earliest tradition of liberal political thought. Liberal ideas resulted from the breakdown of feudalism in Europe and the growth, in its place, of a market capitalist society. In its earliest form, liberalism was a political doctrine, which attacked absolutism (see p. 139) and feudal privilege, advocating individual natural rights and constitutional government. By the nineteenth century, a distinctively liberal political creed had developed that extolled the virtues of laissezfaire capitalism and condemned economic and social intervention. Although classical liberalism is associated primarily with the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries, its ideas have had growing appeal from the second half of the twentieth century onwards, in what is called market or neoliberalism (see p. 260). Classical liberalisms usually share several common characteristics. First, it is committed to egoistical individualism, rooted in either natural rights theory or utilitarianism (see p. 22). The classical liberal perspective sees human beings as rational self-interested creatures, capable of self-reliance. Such a view of human nature understand society

as atomistic, a collection of essentially selfsufficient individuals. Second, classical liberals understand freedom negatively (see Chapter 7). The individual is free insofar as he or she is left alone, not interfered with or coerced by others, a stance that has important implications for the proper extent of public authority. Third, classical liberals view the state as, in Thomas Paine’s words, a ‘necessary evil’. It is necessary in that it lays down the conditions for orderly existence, but it is evil in that it imposes a collective will on society, limiting individual freedom and responsibility. Fourth, classical liberalism highly values a self-regulating capitalist economy, extolling the virtues of the free market and free trade. Not only does classical liberal economics underpin the doctrine of laissez-faire, in which all forms of economic intervention are doomed to be self-defeating, but it also implies that the spread of free trade will bring peace and international harmony. The defining norm of classical liberalism is individual freedom. It advocates a ‘minimal’ political order within which individuals enjoy the widest possible capacity to pursue their

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own interests. The wide appeal in the modern West of such thinking is evident in the extent to which rival political traditions have embraced classical liberal ideas, not least in the form of the conservative New Right and neo-revisionist socialism. Modern liberals (see p. 280), however, have criticized classical liberalism for overstating the extent to which human beings are the architects of their own fortune, and for failing to recognize the defects of unregulated capitalism. Marxists and socialists, in turn, portray classical liberals as crude apologists for the market order, who serve the interests of corporations and the wealthy in general. Key figures David Ricardo (1770–1823)  A British political economist and politician, Ricardo was a founding figures of classical economics, expanding on the ideas of Adam Smith. In On the Principles of Political Economy and Taxation ([1817] 2016), he outlined a labour theory of value (that later influenced Marx), developed the theory of comparative advantage (which provided an economic justification for free trade), and warned that increases in net labour may undermine capital accumulation.

Herbert Spencer (1820–1904)  A British philosopher and social theorist, Spencer developed a vigorous defence of the doctrine of laissez-faire, drawing on Darwin’s theory of evolution. Spencer coined the notion of ‘the survival of the fittest’ to suggest that people who are best suited by nature to survive, rise to the top, while the less fit fall to the bottom. Inequalities of wealth, social position and political power are therefore natural, and government should not interfere. Spencer’s best-known work is The Man versus the State ([1884] 1940). Milton Friedman (1912–2006)  A US economist, Friedman played a key role in regenerating classical economic thinking in the second half of the twentieth century. A fierce opponent of the economic role of government, he attacked the Keynesian idea that demand management is the best way of maintaining full employment. In his view ‘tax and spend’ policies fuelled inflation without affecting the ‘natural rate’ of unemployment. Friedman’s main works include Capitalism and Freedom (1962) and (with his wife, Rose) Free to Choose (1980). See also John Locke (p. 217), Adam Smith (p. 261) and Friedrich Hayek (p. 261)

CONCLUSION The problem of political change is a central thematic in modern and contemporary political thought. These epochs are often thought to be characterized by a dynamism that makes institutions, identities, material relationships, etc. changeable. As we have seen, this is largely due to a considerable shift in the foundations of political order: in modernity, human argument and action are the grounds of political justification. As such, there are both pressing questions for political theorists around (1) how to understand and assess political changes, and (2) how to go about arguing for the political changes they desire (the task of normative justification), and criticize the ones they revile (the task of critique). This second task is key. As political theorists, we cannot only ask what the nature of change is and how we should respond to it. We must also ask how political theory can best position itself to support these descriptive and normative tasks. That is, how does politics and the nature of political change in modernity shape how political theorists must approach their task? Such methodological concerns have motivated all political theorists, even if only implicitly.

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

Progress is the dominant thematic of modern change. The idea of progress provides both a way to read history and a broad criterion for developing theoretical arguments for future improvements. However, progress does not prescribe exactly how these improvements should be made, hence the debate between reform and revolution. It opens rather than closes the standards for normative improvement with the constraint that they have to improve on the present and past. However, its themes of rationality, instrumentality and development offer a particular basis for criticism and normative justification. Progressive political theories require rational grounds for these, some external set of conditions that constrain or prescribe politics in some way. On the other hand, tradition is the minority emphasis in modern political thought. When it comes to critique and justification, traditionalists place authority in some account of past and/or the political danger of change. This leads to a stronger emphasis on critique, as traditionalists often have a vague image of their ideal. However, interestingly an emphasis on tradition does manifest in a variety of locations outside conservatism, including liberalism (p. X), socialism (p. X), postcolonialism (p. 336) and multiculturalism (p. 336). Utopia is a form of critical thinking. But it is one that uses an image of an alternative social order as the basis of critique. Utopians offer a ground for normative justification and critical analysis that is located in an imagined future rather than a universal rationality or historical tradition. While both critique and justification have been increasingly dissociated from utopia due to the rise of other ‘anti-foundational’ methods (Chapter 1) many critical works in modern political thought employed utopias as a key means for their argument. In practice, progress, tradition and utopia are not discrete. Political thinkers (and actors) combine and meld these themes in innovative ways to serve their critical and justificatory aims. In this sense, these themes give us tools to navigate how this was done, rather than a blueprint for how to do it in the future.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS KARL POPPER’S ‘UTOPIA AND VIOLENCE’ IN CONJECTURES AND REFUTATIONS ([1947] 1962) Popper’s ‘Utopia and Violence’ ([1947] 1963) is one of his somewhat lesser known political essays from his 1947 collection Conjectures and Refutations. However, this latter work represents one of his key forums for applying his famous ‘fallibilist’ theory of knowledge to political theory. In this sense, it goes to the heart of the debates in this chapter around the grounds of political theorizing in modernity and the best approach political thinkers can take. ‘Utopia and Violence’ represents a summary of some of his most trenchant criticisms of the historicist and holist trends in social and political theory in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries: the tendency to ignore individual agency and privilege structuralist accounts of historical development. In some ways, utopianism is the main normative response Popper sees arising from these claims. Popper defines utopianism in quote 1 below. Utopian thought is defined by the methodological assumption that norms come first and only then do we discuss means. That is, political thought should sketch out its ideal society and only then figure out how to get there. The deep problem here is that this, for Popper, is a dangerous way to go about political reform, one that makes utopianism given to violence. This is the product of several conditions. For Popper, (1) humans

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have different sociopolitical ideas (i.e. different conceptions of utopia); (2) in most cases, these differing ideals conflict (i.e. they cannot be simultaneously realized); and (3) these conflicts cannot be resolved by rational argumentation (see quote 2). As a result, utopianism will often lead groups to violent conflict (see quote 3). While not his most known work, this essay provides a key application of Popper’s view of knowledge to the issue of the method by which sociopolitical thinking should proceed in modernity. Further, here Popper articulates a key liberal (and specifically utilitarian) critique of utopianism that demonstrates as much about liberal thoughts as it does about utopianism.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘[W]e must first attempt to become as clear as possible about our ultimate political ends and only afterwards can we begin to determine the means which may best help us to realise this state’. 2. ‘[S]ince we cannot determine the ultimate ends of political action scientifically, or by purely rational methods, differences of opinion concerning what the ideal state should look like cannot always be smoothed out by the method of argument.’ 3. ‘I consider what I call Utopianism an attractive and, indeed, an all to attractive theory; for I also consider it dangerous and pernicious. It is, I believe, self-defeating, and it leads to violence’.

Reading questions 1. How does Popper define utopianism and how does that contrast with other accounts in this chapter? 2. What is Popper’s argument that utopianism is given to violence, and is it successful? 3. What might Popper’s claims here tell us about the liberal view of utopianism?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy If progress is a faith, does that make it antirational? yy At what point does reform become revolution? yy Is an emphasis on tradition incompatible with support for reform?

yy On what grounds has utopian thinking been defended?

yy Why has utopianism been linked to tyranny?

yy In what ways are utopianism and

traditionalism also premised on modern rationality?

The Problem of Political Change: Progress, Tradition and Utopia

FURTHER READING Levitas, R. The Concept of Utopia (2011). An accessible and insightful introduction to the concept of utopia and to the work of theorists who have been associated with utopianism, by a leading figure in the field of utopia studies. Nisbet, R. History and the Idea of Progress (2008). A book that traces the idea of progress from its origins in Greek, Roman and medieval civilization to modern times, and critically evaluates the ingredients of the modern idea of progress.

Oakeshott, M. Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays (1991). A classic and elegantly written conservative critique of all rationally based projects of political change, which emphasizes the wisdom implicit in history and tradition. White, S. and Moon, D. What Is Political Theory? (2004). An important and comprehensive overview of the current state of the discipline. Uniquely, it engages both critical and normative approaches in contemporary theory while asking questions of the modern tradition generally.

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CHAPTER 3

THE PROBLEM OF HUMAN NATURE: THE INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIETY Introduction42

INTRODUCTION

The idea of human nature has been a persistent topic in modern Western political thought. All political doctrines and beliefs are based, either explicitly or implicitly, on a theory of human nature. To do otherwise would be to ignore the human element of politics. Further, as The Individual 52 discussed in Chapter 2, modern political •• Individualism52 thinking is often grounded in accounts of •• Individualism and rationality that are meant to offer a new community55 way of criticizing and justifying political •• The individual in politics 58 ideas. Thus, human intellectual, social and political capacities (amongst others) Society59 become key to political reasoning in the •• Collectivism60 modern period. The idea of human nature •• Theories of society 61 is about that which makes human beings •• Social divisions: Class, ‘human’, about what we share with each race and religion 64 other on a reliable basis. In the absence Conclusion66 of a static theological moral order, the constraints of humanity offer important foundations for political reflection. In this way, defining humanity becomes a key problem for political theory. Human Nature 43 •• Nature versus nurture 44 •• Intellect versus instinct 48 •• Competition versus cooperation50

Unsurprisingly, the concept of human nature has been deeply contested. Models of human nature have varied considerably, and there does not seem to be a rational 42

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

ground to decide amongst them. Are human beings selfish or sociable, rational or irrational, essentially moral or basically corrupt? Are they, at heart, political animals or private beings? The answers to these questions bear heavily on the relationship between the individual and society, which are the main contending options in modern Western conceptions of human nature. For example, are human beings ‘individuals’, independent from one another and possessed of separate and unique characters, or are they social beings, whose identity and behaviour are shaped by the groups to which they belong? Such questions have not only been enduring topics of philosophical debate – the choice between ‘nurture’ and ‘nature’ – but have also been the cornerstone of one of the deepest ideological divisions: the rivalry between individualism and collectivism. The stakes in this debate are high. Each model of human nature has radically different implications for organizing political life. And these debates have often shaped public political discourse, which even today employs claims about human nature to justify or criticize policies. This is even though overtly theorizing about human nature largely fell out of fashion in political thought by the end of the nineteenth century, though implicit assumptions remain in twentieth- and twenty-first-century theories. In this way, the problem of human nature has touched almost all political debates and controversies – the nature of justice, the proper realm of freedom, the desirability of equality, the value of politics and so forth.

HUMAN NATURE The idea of human nature is often employed simplistically, as a shorthand for ‘this is what people are really like’. In practice, however, human nature claims make theoretical arguments about human beings and social life. Although opinions differ about the content of human nature, the concept has a clear meaning. It refers to the essential and immutable character of all human beings. It highlights what is ‘natural’ about human life, as opposed to what has been gained from education or social experience. This does not mean that those who believe human behaviour is shaped more by society or history than by unchanging characteristics have abandoned the idea of human nature. This assertion is based on clear assumptions about innate human qualities: the capacity to be moulded by external factors. A limited number of political thinkers have, nevertheless, openly rejected the idea of human nature. For instance, the French existentialist philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre (1905– 80) argued that there was no given ‘human nature’ determining how people act or behave. In Sartre’s view, existence comes before essence, meaning that the idea of human nature is a product of human beings with the freedom to define themselves through their ideas and actions. Humanity is defined by this self-perceiving nature and this desire to define its own existence. For him, theories of human nature ignore that freedom and the fact that such questions only make sense within the context of that freedom. To employ a concept of human nature is not, however, to reduce human life to a onedimensional caricature. Most political thinkers are aware that human beings are complex, multifaceted creatures, made up of biological, physical, psychological, intellectual, social and spiritual elements. The concept of human nature does not necessarily overlook this complexity; it imposes order on it by designating certain features as ‘natural’ or ‘essential’. If

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a human core exists, the logic goes that it should manifest in human politics. However, this may not always be the case. Some theorists have employed the concept critically to argue that existing beliefs, institutions or structures cause people to act contrary to their nature. For instance, despite abundant evidence of selfish behaviour, socialists argue that human beings are sociable and that self-interested behaviour is socially conditioned. In this light, it is important to remember that in no sense is human nature a scientific concept. Even though theories of human nature may claim empirical or scientific bases, no experiment or surgical investigation can uncover human ‘essence’. All models of human nature are normative: they are constructed out of philosophical and moral assumptions that are untestable. Particular debates about human nature have been central to political theory. Especially prominent has been the ‘nature/nurture’ debate. Are human beings the product of innate or biological factors, or are they fashioned by education and social structures? In the social sciences this manifests as the structure-agency issue: the question as to how social structure (as a constraint on individuals) and individual agency (as a source of novelty) is efficacious in determining outcomes in any theory. Clearly, these questions have profound implications for the relationship between the individual and society raising several key areas of debate for political issues such as individual liberty and personal autonomy. For example, is liberty best conceived in individual or collective terms? That is, is liberty something we achieve when we are left on our own or when we engage with others in collective projects? Such considerations determine the proper organization of socio-economic life, including the distribution of resources. As such, the centrality of ideas of human nature in modern and contemporary political thought poses a continuing problem to political theorists. If a theory of humanity is unavoidable but always deeply contestable, how is political theory to negotiate this topic?

Nature versus nurture The most perennial debate about human nature concerns what factors shape it. Is the essential core of human nature given, fashioned by ‘nature’, or structured by social experience or ‘nurture’? ‘Nature’, in this case, stands for biological or ontological factors, suggesting that there is an unchanging human core. The political significance of this claim is considerable: it implies that political and social theories should be based on a preestablished concept of human nature. The latter then takes on explanatory and normative priority in any analysis. Human beings do not reflect society, society reflects human nature. Secondly, it suggests that the roots of political understanding lie in the natural sciences in general, and in biology in particular. Political arguments should therefore be constructed based on biological theories, which provide ‘scientific’ foundation. Charles Darwin’s (1809–82) evolutionary theory of natural selection, developed in On the Origin of Species ([1859] 1986), significantly impacted political and social thought. Darwin suggested that all life develops through a series of random genetic mutations, some of which allow the species to prosper, while others, disadvantage the species. Herbert Spencer (see p. 38), in The Man versus the State ([1884] 1940), was the first to apply this to sociopolitical life through a theory of social Darwinism. He coined the term ‘the survival of the fittest’ to describe an endless struggle among human beings, through which those suited to survive rise, and those less favoured sink. Success and failure, wealth and poverty are, in this sense, biologically modelled, and tampering with this process of natural selection will inhibit the

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

species’ development. This idea deeply influenced classical liberalism (see p. 37), giving it biological grounds for opposing state intervention in socio-economic competition. Social Darwinism also influenced fascist beliefs in unending struggles among nations and races. The fact that Darwin’s and Spencer’s argument could be interpreted as supporting competition on both individual and group levels illustrates that despite its impact, conceptions of human nature are often so vague as to have multiple political implications. In this way, political thought has been in dialogue with wider intellectual debates in the natural sciences, often selectively drawing on work there. In political theory, most biological theories embrace universalism; they argue that human beings share a common character based on genetic inheritance. However, other theories employ claims about human nature and biology to make particularistic claims: that there are fundamental biological differences among human beings, and that these have political significance. This applies in the case of racialist theories, which treat the various races as if they are distinct species. Racialists suggest that there are basic genetic differences amongst races, reflected in their unequal physical, psychological and intellectual inheritance. In its most extreme version, racialism was expressed in the Nazi doctrine of Aryanism, the belief that the Germanic peoples were a ‘master race’. Unfortunately, there is no shortage of these views in the history of modern Western political thought, often from thinkers otherwise known for their egalitarianism. For example, both David Hume (p. 65) and Immanuel Kant (p. 230) endorsed biological racial hierarchies, while others, such as John Stuart Mill (p. 168) and John Locke, supported cultural arguments for Western superiority that repeat these types of hierarchies. While racialist theories were widely scientifically discredited in the early twentieth century, their presence in some of the most influential traditions and thinkers of modern political thought poses key questions as to the legacy of those views on the tradition (see Chapter 13). Biology has also been a basis for human nature arguments around issues of sex and gender. Since the 1970s many feminist political theorists have illuminated the history of patriarchy within Western political thought (and sociopolitical life generally). This has involved exposing both how female political thinkers have been ignored in the canon, and how the exclusion of women from political society has been justified by many thinkers (see Chapters 11–12). However, human nature arguments focused on sex have also argued for equality. For example, some difference feminists (see p. 308) argue there are sociopolitical differences between men and women. Carol Gilligan (1982) argued that existing moral theory, which focused mainly on ideas of fairness, rights and rule, were predominantly masculine. In contrast, she argued women’s relationships articulated an alternative moral theory she called an ‘ethics of care’. The latter ethic is focused more on context, relationships and narrative than formal and abstract masculine ethics. For Gilligan, male moral reasoning has dominated social and political thought and excluded this female ethical alternative. In marked contrast, other theories of human nature place greater emphasis on ‘nurture’: the influence of the social environment on human behaviour. Such views reject fixed biological factors, emphasizing the malleability of human nature, or its ‘perfectibility’. These theories shift political understanding away from biology towards sociology. Political behaviour tells us less about an immutable human essence than the structure of society. Moreover, by releasing humankind from biological chains, such theories often have optimistic, if not utopian, implications. When human nature is ‘given’, the

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possibility of progress and social advancement is limited; if human nature is malleable, opportunities immediately expand. Social evils (e.g. poverty, social conflict and political oppression) can be overcome because their origins are social and changeable. As such, nurture theories often lead to ‘perfectionist’ political projects: the idea that the state should actively pursue moral improvement. There is also a long trend of nurture theories in Western political thinking. One of the earliest is Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s conception of humanity in the state of nature. A member of the social contract tradition (see p. 47), Rousseau used the idea of a ‘state of nature’, a time before human society and government, to outline a conception of human nature. However, he rejected earlier thinkers such as Thomas Hobbes and John Locke who articulated conceptions of human nature that argued either for a fundamental conflict/violence or morality within pre-social humanity. Rather, for Rousseau, beyond limited capacities of self-preservation and pity, human nature is defined by its limitations. In the state of nature, humans are unencumbered by social dynamics and simple creatures with little reason to conflict or value others. What defines humanity is a capacity to grow more complicated, individually and socially. This is what divides humanity and animals, ‘a beast is, at the end of some months, all he ever will be during the rest of his life; and his species, at the end of a thousand years, precisely what it was the first year of that thousand’. In contrast, what defines humanity is a ‘a quality which will admit of no dispute; this is the faculty of improvement; a faculty which, as circumstances offer, successively unfolds all the other faculties, and resides among us not only in the species, but in the individuals that compose it’ (Rousseau [1755] 2015). For Rousseau, humanity is capable of change through our social life, something that can either elevate or degrade us. The idea that human nature is ‘plastic’, shaped by social forces, has influenced many traditions. For example, it is central to socialist theories. In A New View of Society ([1816] 2013), Robert Owen argued that ‘any general character from the best to the worst, from the ignorant to the most enlightened, may be given to any community’. In Karl Marx’s work (see p. 263), this idea was developed through explaining why and how social environments condition human behaviour. Marx ([1859] 1968) proclaimed that, ‘It is not the consciousness of men that determines their being, but, on the contrary, their social being determines their consciousness.’ He, and subsequent Marxists, believed that social, political and intellectual life is conditioned by ‘the mode of production of material life’, the existing economic system. However, human nature is no passive reflection of its material environment. Rather, human beings are workers, homo faber, constantly engaged in shaping the world in which they live. Thus, in Marx’s view, human nature is formed through a dynamic or ‘dialectical’ relationship between humankind and the material world. Similarly, most feminists also view human behaviour as conditioned by social factors. For example, in The Second Sex ([1949] 2010), Simone de Beauvoir (see p. 314) declared that, ‘One is not born a woman: one becomes a woman’. To reject the notion of ‘essential’ differences between women and men, she argues we must distinguish sex (biology) from gender (social norm). Sexual difference offered no basis for different sociopolitical norms and gender, as constructed, could be reconstructed along more egalitarian lines.

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

47

TRADITION:  Social Contract Theory Social contract theory is one of the most influential traditions in modern political thought. It is foundational to modern discussions of politics and paradigmatic of the modern attempt to offer rational, non-religious grounds for political thought. It is defined by viewing sociopolitical life through a legal contract: a binding agreement with clear participants, terms, penalties and benefits. The key focus is the state and government, which social contract theories understand as the product of the consent of the contracting parties who agree to the burdens of government (a loss of freedom) based on the advantages (i.e. security, rights). The terms of the contract, what powers, obligations and rights are given to individuals and government, are thus the key questions a social contract theory will answer. Social contract theories, especially in their earlier iterations, often relied on the argumentative device of the state of nature. It describes a pre-social and pre-political humanity, to theorize (both explain and prescribe) the nature of sociopolitical life. In this sense, it is an account of human nature, illustrated through a description of the conditions of human life in a context undisturbed by social or political institutions. This account provides grounds for formulating government or the state. For example, in Leviathan ([1651] 1968), Thomas Hobbes described the state of nature as being ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. In his view, human beings were essentially desiring creatures who would, if unrestrained, seek to advance their interests at the expense of others. Since even the strongest would never be strong enough to live in security and without fear, rational humans would see the need for government. Quite simply, without government to restrain, order would be impossible. Hobbes suggested that rational individuals would seek to escape by entering into an agreement with one another, a ‘social contract’, to establish a system of government (i.e. leadership). Thus, for him, government is necessary to prevent a war ‘of

every man against every man’, and this flows from human nature and our existential situation. That said, while Hobbes’s social contract theory ends up supporting absolutist (see p. 139) government, this is not a uniform result. Most social contract theorists tend to be liberals. In fact, the idea of the constitutional state emerged out of the writings of liberal social contract theorists, especially John Locke and Baron de Montesquieu. In this, it was used not only to argue for government, but to advance a theory of the nature of (and appropriate limits on) state power. Part of social contract theory attempted to persuade citizens to treat the state as though it had been created by a voluntary agreement. The fact that every citizen benefitted from escaping the disorder of the ‘state of nature’ implied that the state is required to act in the interests of all. In this way, as an intellectual device it became foundational for classical liberalism, which used it to argue for the greatest possible individual freedom. Importantly, even the individualistic result of liberal social contract theory is not necessary. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969), used the idea to argue for a republican and deeply democratic model of government. One of the looming issues in any social contract theory is how to understand its historical claims. Early modernity was an intellectual context without deep historical knowledge or techniques. As a result, accounts of human nature and its origins were necessarily speculative and theoretical. That said, later thinkers such as Rousseau and Kant are clear that their social contract theories are thought experiments, aimed at providing rational justification for institutions. This is perhaps clearest in the work of John Rawls (see p. 283), who in the twentieth century used a modified version of the social contract, in his “Original Position”, as the basis for his theory of justice. Nonetheless, in recent decades the tradition has been deeply criticized as thinkers such as Carole Pateman (see p. 188)

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and Charles Mills (see p. 334) have argued that it has been complicit in the exclusion of women and non-white peoples (see Chapters 12–13) from liberal constitutional modes of inclusion. Key figures

politician. Locke was a deep critic of absolutism and key thinker of early liberalism. His Two Treatises of Civil Government ([1690] 1965) used social contract theory to emphasize the importance of natural rights, identified as the right to ‘life, liberty and estate (property)’.

Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) An English political philosopher writing at a time of deep uncertainty and civil strife, Hobbes developed the first comprehensive theory of nature and human behaviour in the Western tradition since Aristotle. His major work, Leviathan ([1651] 1968), defended absolutist government as the only alternative to anarchy and disorder.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–78) A Genevaborn French moral and political philosopher, Rousseau was perhaps the principal intellectual influence on the French Revolution. Rousseau’s political theory, principally developed in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969), advocates a radical form of democracy that has influenced liberal, socialist and republican thought.

John Locke (1632–1704) An English philosopher, political theorist, physician and

See also John Rawls (p. 283), Carole Pateman (see p. 188) and Charles Mills (see p. 334)

Intellect versus instinct The second debate centres on the role of rationality in human life. The question is the degree to which the reasoning mind influences human conduct. Thinkers here are distinguished between those who emphasize thinking, analysis and rational calculation, and those who highlight the role of impulse, emotions, instincts or other non-rational drives. Importantly, acknowledging the importance of the non-rational does not require rejecting reason altogether. Indeed, many such theories are advanced in eminently rationalist, even scientific, terms. Faith in the power of human reason reached its high point during the Enlightenment, the so-called age of reason, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. During that period, political thinkers turned away from religious dogmas, and instead based their ideas on rationalism: the belief that the workings of the physical and social world can be explained by the exercise of reason alone. In this view, human beings are essentially rational creatures, guided by intellect and a process of argument, analysis and debate. Such an idea was expressed quintessentially in the mind-body dualism advanced by the French philosopher René Descartes (1596–1650). In his famous ontological proof, ‘Cogito ergo sum [I think, therefore I am]’, Descartes argued that the experience of thought demonstrated to the radical sceptic the truth of existence. In this argument, he portrayed human beings as, at their root, thinking machines, with a mind distinct from the body. Rationalism holds that human beings possess the capacity to fashion their own lives and their own worlds. If human beings are reason-driven creatures they enjoy free will and self-determination. Rationalist theories of human nature therefore tend to underline the importance of individual freedom. In addition, rationalism often underpins radical political doctrines. To the extent that human beings possess the capacity to understand their world, they have the ability to improve it. Reason is thus linked to progress (as discussed in Chapter 2). The earliest rationalist ideas in the Western tradition were developed by Ancient Greek philosophers. Plato (see p. 49) argued that the best possible form of government would be

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

an enlightened despotism, rule by an intellectual elite, the philosopher-kings. Rationalist ideas were also prominent in nineteenth-century liberal and socialist thinkers. Liberals, such as J. S. Mill (see p. 168), premised their theories on the idea that human beings are rational. Rationality is the basis of Mill’s argument for the individual and collective benefits of individual liberty: guided by reason, individuals can seek self-realization in a way that advances social life. Similarly, rationality was the basis of many early feminist arguments for female education and citizenship: Mary Wollstonecraft (see p. 275) argued that like men, women are rational and so should be bearers of civic virtue. In turn, socialist theories are deeply rationalist in their approach to analysis and understanding historical development. Marx and Engels (see pp. 263 and 250) developed what the latter referred to as ‘scientific socialism’. Rather than indulging in ethical analysis and moral assertion, they strove to uncover the dynamics of history and society through a method of materialist scientific analysis. When they predicted the ultimate demise of capitalism, for example, this was not because of its moral failings, in the sense that it deserved to be overthrown, but because its internal contradictions destined it to fall. Rationalism as both a model of humanity and a method of analysis has attracted growing criticism since the late nineteenth century. The Enlightenment dream of an ordered, rational and tolerant world was undermined by the persistence of conflict and social deprivation and the emergence of powerful and seemingly non-rational forces such as nationalism and racialism. This led to growing interest in the influence that emotion, instinct and other psychological drives exert on politics. In some respects, this emphasis built on an established tradition, found mainly among conservative thinkers, who had always disparaged rationalism. Edmund Burke (see p. 28) emphasized the intellectual imperfection of human beings, especially when they are confronted by the almost infinite complexity of social life. For him, the world is unfathomable, too intricate for the human mind to unravel. Such a view has conservative implications. If the rationalist theories dreamed up by liberals and socialists are unconvincing, human beings are wise to place their faith in tradition, the known. Revolution and even reform are a journey into the unknown.

THINKER PLATO (427–347 BCE) Greek philosopher. Plato was a follower of Socrates, who is the principal figure in his ethical and philosophical dialogues. After Socrates’ death in 399 BCE, Plato founded his Academy in order to train the new Athenian ruling class, and became one of the most influential tinkers in Western philosophy and political theory. Plato taught that the material world consists of imperfect versions of the eternal ‘ideas’. His political philosophy, as expounded in The Republic (1955), is an attempt to describe the ‘ideal state’ in terms of a theory of justice. Plato’s just state was decidedly authoritarian and was based on a strict division of labour that supposedly reflected different human attributes. He argued that government should be exercised exclusively by a small collection of philosopherkings, supported by the auxiliaries (collectively termed the Guardians), whose education and communistic way of life would ensure that they ruled based on wisdom. In his view, knowledge and virtue are one. In The Laws, he advocated a system of mixed government, but continued to emphasize the subordination of the individual to the state and law. Plato’s work exerted wide influence on Christianity and European culture in general.

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To justify these claims and this anti-rationalism, conservative theorists often emphasized the power of the non-rational. While Thomas Hobbes (see p. 73) saw an important role for human reason, for him, human beings are also driven by non-rational appetites: aversions, fears, hopes and desires, the strongest of which is the fear for security. This view of human nature led Hobbes to conclude that only strong, autocratic government can prevent society descending into chaos and disorder, into a ‘war of all against all’. Burke also emphasized the degree to which unreasoned sentiments and even prejudice play a role in structuring social life. While what he called ‘naked reason’ offers little guidance, prejudice, being born of natural instincts, provides people with security and social identity. One of the most influential theories stressing the impact of non-rational drives was the work of Sigmund Freud (1856–1939). Freud distinguished between the conscious mind, which carried out rational judgements, and the unconscious mind, which contained repressed memories and powerful drives. In particular, Freud highlighted the importance of human sexuality, represented by the id, the most primitive instinct within the unconscious, and libido, psychic energies emanating from the id and usually associated with sexual desire. While Freud focused on the therapeutic significance, others examined the political significance of these ideas. For example, Freudian thinking was employed by New Left theorists such as Herbert Marcuse (see p. 79) and psychoanalytical feminists, such as Juliet Mitchell ([1974] 2000) and Julia Kristeva (1982).

Competition versus cooperation The third area of disagreement centres on whether human beings are essentially egoistical, or naturally cooperative. This debate is of fundamental political importance because these contrasting theories of human nature support radically different forms of socio-economic organization. If human beings are naturally self-interested, competition is an inevitable, and potentially healthy, feature of social life. Such a theory of human nature is closely linked to individualist ideas such as natural rights and private property, and has often been used as a justification for a market or capitalist economic order (see Chapter 10). While theories that portray human nature as self-interested can be found among the Ancient Greeks, particularly the Sophists, they were systematically developed in the early modern period. In political thought this was reflected in the growth of natural rights theories, which suggested that everyone has been invested by God with a set of inalienable rights. These rights belong to the individual and provide an absolute foundation for assessing political order. Utilitarianism (see p. 22), developed in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, attempted to provide an objective, even scientific, explanation of human selfishness. Interestingly, it also developed that account into a moral justification of methodological and normative individualism. Jeremy Bentham (see p. 22) painted a picture of human beings as essentially pleasure-seeking creatures. In Bentham’s view, happiness is self-evidently ‘good’, and unhappiness self-evidently ‘bad’. Individuals therefore act to maximize pleasure and minimize pain, calculating each in terms of ‘utility’ – in its simplest sense, use-value. This view of human nature has had considerable impact on both economic and political theories. Economics is based very largely on the model of homo economicus (economic man), a materially self-interested

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

‘utility maximizer’. They also underpin many political theories, including seventeenthcentury social contract theories, classical liberalism (see p. 37) and twentieth-century neoliberal political thought. World religions have a very different image of human nature with an important influence on political thought. Monotheistic religions such as Christianity, Islam and Judaism offer a picture of humankind as the product of divine creation. The human essence is spiritual rather than mental or physical, and is represented in Christianity by the ‘soul’. The notion that human beings are moral creatures, equal in the eyes of God, has had considerable influence on socialist doctrines, which stress the importance of compassion, natural sympathy and a common humanity. Eastern religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism lay considerable emphasis on the oneness of all forms of life, also employing the idea of a common humanity, as well as a philosophy of non-violence. In Buddhism, such thinking is closely associated with the doctrine of ‘no-self ’ (see p. 54). It is little surprise, therefore, that socialism has often found religious allies in its applications outside the West (see the discussion of Liberation Theology p. 291). It is mistaken, however, to assume that all religious theories have socialist implications. For instance, the Protestant belief in individual salvation and its connection to personal striving, famously dubbed the ‘Protestant ethic’ by Max Weber, is more conducive to ideas of self-help and the free market. Secular theories have also attempted to draw attention to the ‘social essence’ of human nature. These have stressed the importance of social being, highlighting how individuals always live collectively, as members of a community. Selfishness and competition are in no way ‘natural’; rather, they are products of a capitalist society that encourages selfstriving. The human essence is sociable, gregarious and cooperative. This theory clearly lends itself to either the communist goal of collective ownership, or the more modest social democratic ideal of a welfare state. Peter Kropotkin (see p. 51) went perhaps further in developing a political theory of human nature focused on sociability. He accepted evolutionary ideas, but had no sympathy for their libertarian sociopolitical interpretation. In Mutual Aid ([1897] 1988), he challenged social Darwinism, suggesting that what distinguishes humans from less successful species is their highly developed capacity for cooperation or ‘mutual aid’. Cooperation is not only an ethical ideal, it is an evolutionary trait that has been responsible for humans’ ability to socially progress. On this basis, Kropotkin argued for both a communist society, in which wealth would be owned in common by all, and a form of anarchism in which human beings could manage their own affairs cooperatively and peacefully.

THINKER PETER KROPOTKIN (1842–1921) Russian anarchist and political thinker. From a noble family, he first entered the service of Tsar Alexander II, before encountering anarchist ideas. He subsequently became involved in revolutionary activity through the Populist movement, leading to imprisonment in St Petersburg, 1874–6. After a spectacular escape from prison he remained in exile in Western Europe, returning to Russia after the 1917 revolution.

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Kropotkin’s anarchism was shaped by both his Russian experience, with his admiration for the popular self-management in the traditional Russian peasant commune, and the desire to ground his theory rationally. His ‘scientific anarchism’, outlined in his most famous book, Mutual Aid ([1897] 1988), reworked the Darwinian theory of evolution to focus on cooperation and social solidarity, rather than competition and struggle, as the principal means of human and animal development. Kropotkin was a powerful advocate of anarcho-communism, regarding capitalism and the state as interlinked obstacles to humankind’s natural sociability. In works such as Fields, Factories and Workshops ([1901] 1912) and The Conquest of Bread ([1906] 1926), he envisaged an anarchic society consisting of largely self-sufficient communes, and also addressed problems such as how crime and laziness would be contained within such a society.

THE INDIVIDUAL The term ‘individual’ is so common in everyday language that its implications and political significance are often ignored. In the most obvious sense, an individual is a single human being. But, the concept suggests more. First, it implies that human beings are best understood as independent, singular entities. They are autonomous creatures, whose behaviour is determined according to personal choice rather than as members of a social group. Second, individuals are not merely independent; they are also distinct, even unique. This is what is implied by ‘individuality’, which refers to what is distinctive about each human being. To see society as a collection of distinct individuals is understands human beings in personal terms and judges them according to their particular qualities, such as character, personality and talents. Each individual has a ‘personal’ identity. Third, to understand human beings as individuals is a universalism, insofar as individuality is fundamental for all human beings everywhere. In that sense, individuals are not defined by social background, race, religion, gender or any other ‘accident of birth’, but by what they share: their moral worth, their personal identity and their uniqueness. Despite the intuitive nature of individualism in modernity, the concept of the individual has provoked theoretical debate and division. For instance, what does it mean to be committed to individualism? Does individualism generate a distinctive style of political thought, or can it be used to support a wide range of positions? Moreover, no political thinker sees the individual as entirely self-reliant; all acknowledge that some social factors influence the individual. But where does the balance between the individual and the community lie, and where should it lie? Finally, how significant are individuals in political life? Is politics shaped by the actions of separate individuals, or do only social groups, organizations and institutions matter?

Individualism Individualism is a normative and/or methodological commitment to the primacy of the individual over any collective body. However, like many conceptions of human nature, individualism is not a united tradition but a variable trend. It has manifested in many traditions and contexts, often taking different forms. For example, it has been linked to the classical liberal tradition (see p. 37), and ideas such as limited government and the free market; forms of social democracy and modern liberalism (see p. 280), to justify state intervention; and forms of anarchism, as alternative to the centrality of the state in

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

modern societies. As a result, it is difficult to identify a unity to individualism that allows it to be clearly demarcated. While some suggest individualism and collectivism as polar opposites, representing the traditional battle lines between capitalism and socialism, others argue that the two are complementary, even inseparable. The problem is that there is no agreement amongst individualisms about the nature of the ‘individual’, and so the various manifestations of individualism reflect a range of views about the content of human nature. All individualist doctrines extol the intrinsic value of the individual, emphasizing the dignity, personal worth, even sacredness, of each human being. What they disagree over is the source and nature of this value, and how it can best be institutionalized politically. Some early modern liberals expressed their individualism in the doctrine of natural rights, which holds that individuals are bearers of pre-political rights and that the purpose of social organization is their protection. Many used social contract theories (p. 47) in their arguments to provide grounds to their conception of individuals and their value, and argued that government is subject to the consent of individual citizens. This produced a limited conception of the state confined to the protection of individual rights. However, individualism can extend this anti-statist logic, as it has in libertarian and anarchist thought. For example, Henry David Thoreau (1817–62) believed that no individual should sacrifice their conscience to the judgement of politicians, elected or otherwise, denying that government can ever exercise rightful authority over the individual. There is a potential hostility to the state within individualism. This anti-statist individualist tradition is linked to the defence of market capitalism in some of its forms. Such individualism assumes that human beings are essentially selfreliant and self-interested. C. B. Macpherson (1973) termed this ‘possessive individualism’, which he defined as ‘a conception of the individual as essentially the proprietor of his own person or capacities, owing nothing to society for them’. If individuals are self-owning and entirely autonomous, placing their own interests above others, then individuals require a strong right of private property: the freedom to acquire, use and exchange property however they choose. As such, individualism became, in the United Kingdom and the United States in particular, a key commitment for advocates of laissez-faire capitalism. Laws that regulate economic life – by affecting property and its exchange through various mechanisms (e.g. minimum wages, the length of the working day, working conditions or benefits and pensions requirements) – are a threat to individualism on this view. Individualism has also been a basis for collectivist arguments. For example, modern liberals, such as T. H. Green (see p. 281) and L. T. Hobhouse (1864–1929), have used individualism to construct arguments in favour of social welfare and state intervention. Individual freedom is only possible within a context of social equality; freedom must be shared. They thus saw the individual not as narrowly self-interested, but as socially situated. Individuals can only flourish, and realize their potential, in the context of other individuals doing the same. This transforms individualism from a doctrine of self-regard to a philosophy of self-development, a developmental individualism where the emphasis is on the individual and social benefits of shared freedom. Some socialist thinkers have embraced individualism on a similar logic. If human beings are, as socialists argue, naturally sociable and gregarious, individualism stands not for possessiveness but fraternal cooperation. Hence, the French socialist Jean Jaurès (1859–1914) claimed,

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‘socialism is the logical completion of individualism’. So-called ‘third-way’ thinkers, such as Anthony Giddens (1998), attempted a similar reconciliation in embracing ‘new’ individualism, which stressed that autonomous individuals operate within a context of interdependence and reciprocity. So individualism and collectivism are not simple opposites, mutually exclusive and distinct. Rather, they are framing trends that can, in some forms, run parallel to each other supporting similar political institutions. Individualism is methodologically multifaceted as it has both a normative and a methodological sense. Many theories mix these senses. However, disentangling them can help us understand its often confusingly diverse manifestations. As a normative principle, individualism tells you what is of value – individual humans – and argues that sociopolitical life and institutions should be built to respect that value. Individualism is not, however, only of importance as a normative principle; it is a widely deployed methodological claim. In other words, social or political theories have been constructed on the basis of a pre-established model of the human individual, and been used as a basis to make explanatory and descriptive claims about political life. Such methodological individualism was employed in the seventeenth century to construct social contract theories and in the twentieth century for rational choice models of political science. The individualist method underpinned classical and neoclassical economic theories, such as that of Friedrich Hayek (see p. 261). In each case, conclusions have been drawn from assumptions about a ‘fixed’ or ‘given’ human nature, usually highlighting the capacity

BEYOND THE WEST THE BUDDHIST DOCTRINE OF NO-SELF The doctrine of ‘no-self’ (anatman in Sanskrit) is not only the bedrock of Buddhist thought but also what distinguishes Buddhism from all other religions, creeds and systems of philosophy. The doctrine is a powerful critique of the principle of individualism, which is grounded in the notion of a separate, distinctive and unified self. Buddhist teaching concludes that no such entity can be found, but only a ‘bundle’ of phenomena. These are the five skandhas (or ‘heaps’): form (the body), feelings, perceptions, impulses and consciousness. As each of these is temporary and everchanging, it is ‘empty’ in that it lacks ‘own-being’. Buddhists thus treat consciousness, the last of the skandhas, not as a ‘thing’ in itself, as in the Western notion of ‘mind’ (usually seen as the location of the self), but merely as the mental processes that enable us to be aware of the other four skandhas. In this sense, Buddhists hold that there can be thoughts without a ‘thinker’. The doctrine of no-self underpins a wide variety of Buddhist beliefs. For example, the origins of suffering and unhappiness are traced back to the delusion of a separate and substantive self, for this gives rise to cravings that can never be satisfied because they are only replaced by other ambitions. The path to happiness and spiritual enlightenment (very much the same thing in Buddhism) therefore involves the progressive abandonment of attempts to defend, bolster or enrich the self. Politically this leads Buddhist thinking to emphasize interdependence. Not only does abandoning the self/other divide imply that the natural relationship between people is caring, a belief that has clear implications for welfare and economic organization (see ‘Buddhist economics’, p. 253), but, in suggesting that there is an intrinsic relationship between humankind and the natural world, it also has environmental implications.

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

for rationally self-interested behaviour. The drawback of any form of methodological individualism is that it is both asocial and ahistorical. By building political theories on a pre-established model of human nature, individualists ignore how human behaviour varies from society to society, and from between historical periods. If historical and social factors shape human nature, as advocates of ‘nurture’ theories suggest, the human individual is a product of society, not the other way around.

Individualism and community While individualism has strongly influenced Western modern political thought, it has also raised difficult questions. Principal among these is the relation between individual and community. In fact, this is one of the central questions of modern Western political thought, fundamentally dividing many traditions and theorists: should the individual be encouraged to be independent, or will this make social solidarity impossible and leave individuals isolated? One of the most established traditions emphasizing the former is the Anglo-American tradition US President Herbert Hoover described as ‘rugged individualism’. This tradition is an extreme form of individualism, with roots in classical liberalism. It sees the individual as almost entirely separate from society, and so downgrades the importance of community. It holds not only that individuals possess the capacity for self-reliance and hard work but also that individual effort is the source of moral development. Not only can individuals look after themselves, they should. One of the seminal works of this tradition is Ralph Waldo Emerson’s essay ‘Self-Reliance’ ([1841] 1950). It articulates one of the key themes of Emerson’s work: the value of individuals rejecting social conformity and convention, by rigorously developing their individual view on all matters. Key here is the claim that individuals are ultimately the true judge of all things social and that the community is not valuable in itself. For Emerson, ‘the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude’. Similarly, in the British context Samuel Smiles’s Self-Help ([1859] 2008) proclaimed that, ‘The spirit of self-help is the root of all genuine growth in the individual’. Smiles (1812–1904) extolled the Victorian virtues of enterprise, application and perseverance. While self-help promotes the mental and moral development of the individual, and through promoting the entrepreneurial spirit benefits the entire nation, ‘help from without’ (i.e. social welfare) enfeebles the individual by removing the incentive to work. This prioritization of the individual had considerable impact on political discourses, particularly New Right thinking on the welfare state. During the 1980s Reaganism in the United States and Thatcherism in the United Kingdom attacked the ‘dependency culture’ that welfare support had supposedly created. The poor, disadvantaged and unemployed had become ‘welfare junkies’, robbed of the desire to work and denied self-respect. The solution was to enact a shift from social responsibility to individual responsibility, encouraging people to ‘stand on their own two feet’. This has been reflected since the 1980s in the reshaping of the US and UK benefits systems, through, for instance, reductions in benefit levels, a greater emphasis on means testing rather than universal benefits, and attempts to make the receipt of benefits conditional on willingness to undertake training or work. Critics of such policies point out that so long as social inequality continues, it is difficult to see how individuals can be held entirely responsible for their circumstances.

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This line of argument shifts attention away from the individual and towards the community. A wide range of political thinkers – socialists, conservatives, nationalists and fascists – have theorized forms of anti-individualism. In most cases, anti-individualism is based on a commitment to the importance of community and the belief that individual responsibility threatens social solidarity. In social and political thought ‘Community’ usually refers to a social group, a neighbourhood, town, region, group of workers or whatever, within which there are strong ties and collective identity. A genuine community is therefore distinguished by bonds of comradeship, loyalty and duty. In that sense, community refers to the social roots of individual identity. As such, many of these critics have been reactive: examining the problematic assumptions around the individuals and communities within individualism. For example, in the 1980s, communitarian theorists (see p. 57) prominently criticized liberal individualism, claiming they relied on a conception of the ‘unencumbered self ’. In contrast, communitarians held that the self is always constituted through the community. Socialists and conservative thinkers long emphasized the concept of community to criticize individualism. Socialists have seen community as a means of strengthening social responsibility and harnessing collective energies. Therefore, they have often rejected individualism, especially when it is narrowly linked to self-interest and selfreliance. Although there is more contestation in the twentieth-century tradition, with modern social democrats acknowledging the importance of some market competition, they balance this against the altruism that only community fosters. On the other hand, conservative theorists often see individualism as destructive of the social fabric. Individuals are timid and insecure creatures, who seek the rootedness that only community identity provides. If individualism promotes a philosophy of ‘each for his own’ it will lead to ‘atomism’, and produce a society of isolated individuals. This has, for example, encouraged conservative thinkers, such as Irving Kristol (see p. 143) and Roger Scruton (2001), to distance themselves from the neoliberalism of the New Right. Social theory has significantly impacted the idea of community in political thought. Sociologists have distinguished between the forms of community life that develop within traditional rural societies, and modern urban societies. For example, German sociologist Ferdinand Tönnies (1855–1936) distinguished between what he called Gemeinschaft or ‘community’, and Gesellschaft or ‘association’. Gemeinschaft relationships, typically found in rural communities, are based on the strong bonds of natural affection and mutual respect. This traditional sense of ‘community’ was threatened by the spread of industrialization and urbanization, both of which encouraged egoism and competition. The Gesellschaft relationships of urban societies are, by contrast, artificial and contractual; they reflect the desire for personal gain rather than social loyalty. The French sociologist Émile Durkheim (1858–1917) developed the concept of anomie to denote a condition in which the framework of social codes and norms breaks down. In Suicide ([1897] 1951), Durkheim argued that, since human desires are unlimited, the breakdown of community, weakening social and moral norms about which forms of behaviour are acceptable, will lead to greater unhappiness and, ultimately, more suicides. Once again, community rather than individualism was the basis for social stability and individual happiness.

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TRADITION: Communitarianism The communitarian tradition originated in the nineteenth-century socialist utopianism of thinkers such as Robert Owen and Peter Kropotkin (see p. 51). However, community is one of the enduring themes in modern political thought, expressed variously in the socialist emphasis on fraternity and cooperation, the Marxist (see p. 249) belief in a classless society, the conservative (see p. 142) view of society as organic, nationalist (see p. 227) commitments to an indivisible national community and the republican (see p. 107) ideal of a unified republic. However, communitarian political theory emerged only in the 1980s and 1990s. It developed as a critique of liberalism, highlighting the damage to public culture done by liberal emphases on individual rights and liberties over questions of the nature of community in modern states. This resulted in the so-called ‘liberal–communitarian debate’. For communitarians, the central defect of liberalism is its view of the individual as an asocial, atomized, ‘unencumbered self’. This view is evident in the utilitarian (see p. 22) assumption that human beings are rationally self-seeking creatures. Communitarians emphasize, by contrast, that the self is embedded in the community; each individual is an embodiment of the society that has shaped his or her desires, values and purposes. This draws attention not merely to the process of socialization but also to the conceptual impossibility of separating an individual from their social context. The communitarian stance has implications for our understanding of justice. Liberal theories of justice tend to have assumptions about personal choice and individual behaviour that, communitarians argue, assume a disembodied subject. Justice requires understanding the self as embedded and intersubjective, a position like that advanced by post-structuralist theories (see p. 82). Communitarians argue that their aim is to rectify an imbalance in modern society and political thought in which individuals,

unconstrained by social duty and moral responsibility, have been encouraged to consider only their own interests and rights. In this moral vacuum, society, quite literally, disintegrates. The communitarian project attempts to restore society’s moral voice and, in a tradition stemming from Aristotle (see p. 101), to construct a ‘politics of the common good’. Critics of communitarianism allege that it has conservative and authoritarian implications. It is conservative in amounting to a defence of existing social structures and moral codes. Feminists, for example, have criticized communitarianism for bolstering traditional sex roles under the guise of defending the family. It is authoritarian in its tendency to emphasize the duties of the individual over rights. As a position, communitarianism has largely been replaced in contemporary political theory by liberal nationalism and more contextualist liberal approaches. Key figures Alasdair MacIntyre (born 1929)  A Scottish-born moral philosopher, MacIntyre developed a neoclassical and anti-liberal communitarian philosophy. In his view, liberalism preaches moral relativism and cannot morally ground social order. He developed a model of the good life that is rooted in Aristotle, and the Christian tradition of Augustine (see p. 121) and Aquinas (see p. 133). MacIntyre’s major works include After Virtue (1981) and Whose Justice? Which Rationality? (1988). Michael Walzer (born 1935)  A US political theorist, Walzer has developed a form of communalist and pluralistic liberalism. He rejects the quest for a universal theory of justice, arguing for the principle of ‘complex equality’ according to which different rules should apply to the distribution of different social goods, thereby establishing separate ‘spheres’ of justice. Walzer’s major works include Just and Unjust Wars (1977), Spheres

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of Justice (1983) and Interpretation and Social Criticism (1987). Michael Sandel (born 1953)  A US political theorist, Sandel has criticized individualism and the notion of the ‘unencumbered self’. He argues for conceptions of moral and social life that are firmly embedded in distinctive

communities, and emphasizes that individual choice is structured by the ‘moral ties’ of the community. His most influential works include Liberalism and the Limits of Justice (1982) and Democracy’s Discontent (1996). See also Charles Taylor (p. 315)

The individual in politics On the more methodological side, individualism raises key questions about the role of individuals within political life. This is the aforementioned structure-agency issue: should political analysis focus on the aspirations, convictions and deeds of leading individuals, or should it rather examine the ‘impersonal forces’ that structure individual behaviour? At the outset, two fundamentally different approaches to this issue can be dismissed. The first stems from individualism in emphasizing agency as the driver of change. This can manifest in different ways. On the one hand, it has led to a conception of political history, and political thought, as a series of great and influential figures. Histories are made by human individuals who, in effect, impress their own wills on the political process. Such an approach is evident in the emphasis on ‘great men’ and their deeds. From this perspective, political analysis boils down to biography, the lives of major leaders such as F. D. Roosevelt, Winston Churchill, Mao Zedong and Nelson Mandela. In political science, this approach led to what is often called ‘Elite Theory’: an approach to understanding power in politics that held that leaders should be the main analytic object to understand political outcomes. In political ideologies, the extreme form is the fascist Führerprinzip, or ‘leader principle’. Fascists portrayed leaders such as Mussolini and Hitler as supremely gifted individuals, all-powerful and all-knowing. However, to see politics exclusively in terms of leadership and personality is to ignore the wealth of cultural, economic, social and historical factors that undoubtedly help to shape political developments. Moreover, it implies that the individual comes into the world ready-formed, owing nothing to society for his or her talents, qualities, attributes, etc. On the other hand, methodological individualism can be more diffuse. Rather than focusing on leaders, it can take the nature of the individual itself (e.g. its self-interest or rationality) as explaining political processes and events. Once again, these assumptions have been core to liberal approaches. For example, utilitarianism (see p. 22) assumes that social trends will be a product of individual choices over utility. In twentieth-century political science, these explanatory claims reached their zenith in rational choice theory and its model of the individual. The second approach rejects methodological individualism in favour of structure. History is shaped by social, economic and other factors, meaning that individual actors are formed and conditioned by larger forces. An extreme example of this approach to politics was found in the crude and mechanical Marxist theories that developed in the Soviet Union and other communist states. This amounted to a belief in economic determinism: political, legal, intellectual and cultural life were thought to be determined by the ‘economic

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

mode of production’. All of history and every aspect of individual behaviour was therefore understood in terms of the developing class struggle. Such theories imply a belief in historical inevitability, a position that leaves little room for agency and contingency. But where does this leave us? If individuals are neither the masters of history nor puppets controlled by it, what scope is left to individual action? In all circumstances a balance must exist between personal and impersonal factors, between agency and structure. First, if individuals ‘make politics’ they do so under certain conditions, intellectual, institutional, social and historical. In the first place there is the relationship between individuals and their cultural inheritance. Political leaders are rarely original thinkers, examples such as V. I. Lenin (see p. 250) being the exception. Practical politicians are guided in decision-making, often unknowingly, by what the economist Keynes referred to as ‘academic scribblers’. Margaret Thatcher did not invent Thatcherism, any more than Ronald Reagan was responsible for Reaganism. In both cases, their ideas relied on the classical economics of Adam Smith (see p. 261) and David Ricardo (1772–1823), as updated by twentieth-century economists such as Hayek and Milton Friedman (see p. 38). This is not, however, to say that politics is simply shaped by those individuals who dream up ideas. The ideas of thinkers have ‘changed history’ by inspiring and guiding political action. However, these thinkers were themselves influenced by the intellectual traditions of their time, as well as by the reigning historical and social circumstances. Second, there is the relationship between individuals and institutions. It is widely argued in the modern context that the power of political leaders stems from their office rather than personality. Max Weber (1864–1920) argued that in modern industrial societies legalrational authority had largely displaced charismatic and traditional forms of authority (see Chapter 4). Individual political leaders may therefore be less important than their parties, government institutions, or the presiding constitutional arrangements. On the other hand, it is difficult to deny that institutional powers are to some extent elastic, capable of being stretched by leaders. Determined leaders have effectively redefined their offices, as F. D. Roosevelt did in the 1930s with the US presidency and Margaret Thatcher did in the 1980s with the UK premiership. Other leaders have founded or recast the institutions they lead, as occurred in the case of Lenin and the Bolshevik Party. Third, there is the individual’s relationship with society. There is a sense in which no individual can be understood isolated from his or her social environment. Those who, like socialists, emphasize the importance of a ‘social essence’ are particularly inclined to see individual behaviour as representative of social forces. In its extreme form, such a view sees the individual as nothing more than a plaything of impersonal social and historical forces. Although Marx himself did not subscribe to a narrow determinism, he believed that individual action was limited, warning that ‘the tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living’ ([1852] 1978).

SOCIETY Alongside the individual in modern political thought, there is equal focus on the concept of society. In debates about human nature, society examines the collective nature of humans. However independent individuals may be, we are fundamentally

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interrelated in ways with real political import. However, the concept is just as complex as that of the individual. In its general sense, ‘society’ denotes a collection of people who are interconnected in some way. Not just any group of people, however, constitutes a society. Societies are characterized by regular patterns of social interaction, suggesting the existence of social ‘structure’. Moreover, ‘social’ relationships involve mutual awareness and at least some measure of cooperation. Groups whose only interaction is war do not constitute a ‘society’, even though they may live in close proximity and interact regularly. On the other hand, the internationalization of movement and economic life, and the spread of transnational cultural exchange, has created the idea of a ‘world society’ (see p. 62). Nevertheless, the cooperative interaction that defines ‘social’ behaviour is not necessarily reinforced by a common identity or loyalty. This is what distinguishes ‘society’ from the stronger notion of ‘community’, which requires at least a measure of affinity or social solidarity, an identification with the community. Unsurprisingly, the nature of the social sphere has been considerably disputed. As we saw in individualism, this stems from the fact that the concept of society is inevitably tied to both the question of individuality, and the broader implications for our understanding of human nature: an essence of humanity. Similarly, such questions occur across descriptiveexplanatory and normative dimensions, including claims to what society is, and what it should be. For example, descriptively, how should we understand society, which has been theorized in multiple ways, and what are the political implications of different accounts? Is society a human artefact or organic entity? Is it based on consensus or conflict? What is the significance of social divisions such as social class, race or ethnicity, and religion? What are the impact of these social divisions on politics? Normatively, can individualism and collectivism be reconciled, or must ‘the individual’ and ‘society’ always be opposed to one another?

Collectivism Perhaps even more than individualism, collectivism is a deeply contested and confused term. Nevertheless, it is possible to point to a common core of collectivist ideas, as well as to identify several competing interpretations and traditions. Collectivism in political thought tends to focus on normative questions around the social existence of humans. As such, as a term it identifies those theories built around an ideal of social cooperation in political life. To ground these claims, collectivists stress the capacity of human beings for collective action: their ability to pursue goals by working together rather than personal striving. All forms of collectivism understand human beings as social animals, capable of forming a collective identity. The social group, whatever it might be, is essential to human existence. This form of collectivism is found in many political traditions. For example, in socialism an emphasis on social identity and the importance of collective action is evident in the notion of ‘class solidarity’ to highlight the common interests of all working people. Feminism has often embraced collectivist ideas in stressing the shared nature of women’s interests and experiences, and in arguing for a common political identity to ground collective political action. Similarly, nationalist doctrines draw on a collectivist vision by interpreting humanity in terms of ‘nations’ or ‘peoples’. All forms of collectivism are distinct from the extreme form of individualism that portrays human beings as independent and self-striving creatures. If people are

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

naturally sociable and cooperative, social life is a source of personal fulfilment rather than a denial of individuality. Despite this overlap, contestation remains within collectivism. For some, collectivism refers to state coordinated action and reached its highest form in the centrally planned economies of orthodox communist states, so-called ‘state collectivism’. For others, collectivism refers to a preference for community action rather than self-striving, an idea that has had libertarian, even anarchist, implications, as in the ‘collectivist anarchism’ of Michael Bakunin (1814–76). In addition, collectivism is sometimes used pejoratively for socialism by critics highlighting what they see as its statist tendencies, while socialists themselves employ the term to underline their commitment to the shared interests of humanity. The link between collectivism and the state is not accidental and it illustrates some of the key tensions around the term. The state (see Chapter 5) has often been seen as the agency through which collective action is organized, in which case it represents the collective interests of society rather than those of any individual. Hence, New Right theorists tend to portray state intervention in its various forms as evidence of collectivism. The growth of social welfare, the advance of economic management and the extension of nationalization have been interpreted as the ‘rise of collectivism’. Collectivism, in this statist sense, is often regarded as the antithesis of individualism. As the state represents sovereign, compulsory and coercive authority, it is always the enemy of individual liberty. Where the state commands, individual initiative and freedom of choice are constrained. However, this understands the state in exclusively negative terms. If, on the other hand, the state advances the cause of individual selfdevelopment, say, by providing social welfare, collectivism is entirely compatible with individualism, if not its fulfilment. Any account or critique of collectivism that links it exclusively to the state is misleading. The state is, at the most, only an agency through which collective action is organized. Further, it is one that some collectivists are deeply sceptical and critical of. If collectivism stands for collective action undertaken by free individuals or a society out of a recognition that they possess common interests or a collective identity, then the danger of the state is that it can substitute itself for ‘the collective’, taking decisions and responsibilities away from ordinary citizens. Broader, non-state, collectivism is often articulated more through the idea of Autonomous management than state control. Autonomous collectivism has been particularly attractive to anarchists and libertarian socialists. Bakunin, for instance, looked towards the creation of a stateless society in which the economy would be organized according to the principles of workers’ self-management, and distinguished this collectivist vision from the authoritarianism implicit in Marxist socialism. Needless to say, these collectivist ideas share no similarity whatsoever with styles of individualism that emphasize personal self-reliance and individual self-interest.

Theories of society Beyond normative theories of collectivism, some traditions in social and political thought frame their account of society as descriptive-explanatory theories of society. However, as in the case of collectivism, these are accounts of human nature that attempt to explain how best to understand societies, as entities, especially in terms of their political import.

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THINKING GLOBALLY WORLD SOCIETY The notion of society has long been applied to the study of international politics dating from the Dutch philosopher Hugo Grotius (1583–1645). Modern exponents of the ‘international society’ tradition have modified the emphasis within realist theories of international relations on power politics by suggesting the existence of a ‘society of states’ rather than simply a ‘system of states’. However, the notion of ‘world society’ is more inclusive and has radical implications. Marshall McLuhan’s (1964) concept of the ‘global village’ is one of the most influential twentieth-century versions of this idea. McLuhan highlighted the existence of a single, interconnected world, created by rapid developments in communications technology that facilitated the instantaneous flow of information. As well as a massive increase in the scale of human connectedness (with more people interacting with more other people), this substantially changed the nature of human connectedness, as face-to-face interaction was increasingly superseded by media-based (and particularly internet-based) interaction. This created the phenomenon of ‘time/space compression’,

where barriers to communication once imposed by time and space have significantly reduced. While some have welcomed this claiming knowledge flows have greatly increased, widening opportunities for personal and social development, others have warned that this results in ‘thinner’ levels of social connectedness. The concept of world society has been more explicitly developed by John Burton (1972). In his view, world society transcends nation-state boundaries and comprises individuals, nonstate organizations and the global population. However, the notion of world society has also attracted criticism. Not only do social bonds and civic allegiances worldwide continue to be orientated around the nation, with nationalism (see p. 227) stubbornly refusing to be subdued by cosmopolitanism (see p. 235), but the ‘global age’ may also be characterized less by homogenization and integration and more by polarization and diversity. More deeply, at over 7 billion and counting, the global population may simply be too large to constitute a meaningful ‘society’; any sense of global consciousness, or ‘globality’ (see p. 33) being so ‘thin’ that it remains morally and politically irrelevant.

Political life is intimately related to social life; politics is, after all, an attempt to manage the tensions and conflicts within society. However, the interaction between politics, society and the individual is a matter of deep controversy. What conflicts exist in society? Who are these conflicts between? Can these conflicts be overcome, or are they permanent? Key here is the question of the relation between individual and society, which yet again dominates debates on human nature. Theories of society in modern Western political thought broadly tend to either see society in individualist or organic terms. Individualist conceptions of society assume that society is a human artifice, constructed by individuals to serve their interests or purposes. In its extreme form this can lead to the belief, often associated with Margaret Thatcher, but based on the ideas of Jeremy Bentham (see p. 22), that ‘there is no such thing as society’. All social and political behaviour can be understood in terms of the choices made by self-interested individuals, without reference to collective entities such as ‘society’. In the history of political thought, this belief spawned the social contract tradition (see p. 47) that used the idea of the state of nature, a pre-social and pre-political humanity, to theorize (both explain and prescribe)

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

the nature of sociopolitical life. Largely, social contract theorists conceived of society and government as a contract created amongst individuals with certain benefits and burdens. This intellectual device became foundational for classical liberalism, which used it to argue for the goal of achieving the greatest possible individual freedom. Although a state is needed to guarantee a framework of order, individuals should, as far as possible, be able to pursue their own interests. This has often been described as an ‘atomistic’ theory of society, in that society is nothing more than a collection of individual units with their own distinct interests, values and projects. Individualist theories of society do not necessarily ignore the fact that individuals pursue their interests through the formation of groups. The cement that holds this society together, though, is self-interest, the recognition that private interests overlap, making possible the construction of contracts or voluntary agreements. Clearly, this notion of society is founded on a strong belief in consent, the belief that a natural harmony can emerge among competing individuals and groups in society. This was expressed in Adam Smith’s idea of an ‘invisible hand’ operating in the marketplace, later interpreted by Hayek as the ‘spontaneous order’ of economic life. Although workers and employers seek conflicting goals – the worker wants higher wages and the employer lower costs – they are bound together by the fact that workers need jobs and employers need labour. Such a view of society has very clear political implications. If society can afford individuals the opportunity to pursue self-interest without generating fundamental conflict, surely Thomas Jefferson’s motto that ‘That government is best which governs least’ is correct. Instead of being constructed by rational individuals to satisfy personal interests, an organic theory of understands social life as an ‘organic whole’. This image suggests societies exhibit properties normally associated with living organisms. This is a holistic conception of society, as a complex network of relationships that ultimately exist to maintain the unified whole. The whole structures the roles of the individual parts. The organic analogy was first used by Ancient Greek thinkers who referred to the ‘body politic’. Some anthropologists and sociologists have subscribed to similar ideas in developing functionalist views of society. This assumes that all social activity plays some part in maintaining the basic structures of society, and should be primarily understood in terms of its ‘function’. The organic view of society has been accepted by a wide range of political thinkers, notably traditional conservatives and fascists, particularly those who have supported corporatism. There is a sense in which organicism tends toward conservative implications, by legitimizing the existing moral and social order, implying that its complex structure produces stability. Institutions such as the family, the church and the aristocracy, as well as traditional values and culture, underpin social stability. Moreover, this view implies that societies are naturally role-differentiated if not explicitly hierarchical. The various elements of society – social classes, sexes, economic bodies, political institutions, etc. – have specific roles. Equality among them is as absurd as the idea that the heart, liver, stomach, brain and lungs are equal within the body; they may be equally important but clearly fulfil different purposes. While both individualist and organic theories of society suggest the existence (or possibility) of social consensus, rival theories highlight conflict. Conflict can be theorized in different ways and with different degrees of intensity. The linking idea is that sociopolitical life is characterized by divides between groups that see themselves

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as opposed to, and in conflict with, others. For example, the pluralist theory of society, perhaps the mildest form, highlights conflict between the various interest groups in society. However, pluralists do not see conflict as fundamental because they believe that an open competitive political system is capable of ensuring social balance and preventing unrest. Elite theories of society, on the other hand, highlight the concentration of power in the hands of a small minority, and so underline the existence of conflict between ‘the elite’ and ‘the masses’. Elite theorists explain social order in terms of organizational advantage, manipulation and open coercion rather than consensus. The most influential conflict theory of society, however, has been Marxism. Marx believed that the roots of social conflict lie in the existence of private property, leading to fundamental and irreconcilable class conflict. Quite simply, those who produce wealth in any society, the workers, are systematically exploited by property owners. Marx argued that workers are not paid in accordance with their contribution to the productive process, their ‘surplus value’ being expropriated. Class conflict, thus, influences every aspect of social existence. Politics, for instance, is not a process through which rival interests are balanced, but a means of perpetuating class exploitation. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, these trends have developed into radical democratic and agonist theories of democracy, which see conflict as the fundamental condition of both social life and democratic institutions. All of this goes to a divided image of society.

Social divisions: Class, race and religion Most political thinkers recognize the political importance of social groups. The concern has been with the ‘make-up’, composition and dynamics of society. This is reflected in the increasing focus in modern Western political thought on how social divisions structure political life. A ‘social division’ is a split or divide in society, reflecting the diversity of social formations and positions. These divisions are products of some sort of inequality or exclusion in social, economic or political life. Highlighting social divisions in a theory of society and human nature understands social bonds (whether economic, racial, religious, cultural or sexual) as politically important and treats these groups as political actors with explanatory and normative significance. In this way, the idea of social division politicizes social groups. However, these divisions can be interpreted in different ways, especially as many are different types of groups. Class divides do not operate like racial divides. At the general level though, they can be understood in different ways. For some, social divisions are fundamental and permanent, rooted either in human nature or the organic structure of society. Others argue that these cleavages are temporary and removable. In the same way, these divisions can be thought of as healthy, or as evidence of social injustice. Contemporary political theorists sometimes prefer the language of identity and difference to that of social divisions, focusing on ‘identity politics’ (see Chapters 12–13). The concept of social divisions is more long-standing, extends across social and political theory, and is usually associated with the political significance of social class, race and religion (amongst others). The concept of social class was probably the first social division to receive major attention in political theory and so is most traditionally associated with politics. Class reflects socio-economic divisions, based on an unequal distribution of wealth, income or social status. A ‘social class’ is a group of people who share an economic and social position, and who are united by a common interest. However, political theorists have not agreed

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

on the significance of social class, or how to define it. Marxists, for example, regard class as the most fundamental social division. They understand class in terms of economic power, the ownership of the means of production. Social classes are thus defined by a group’s relative position to production. The ‘bourgeoisie’ is the capitalist class, the owners of capital or productive wealth while the ‘proletariat’, which owns no wealth, is forced to sell its labour power to survive, its members being reduced to ‘wage slaves’. In Marx’s view, classes are major political and historical actors. The proletariat is destined to be the ‘gravedigger of capitalism’, a destiny it will fulfil once it achieves revolutionary ‘class consciousness’. However, the Marxist two-class model has been significantly criticized as inattentive to the dynamic nature of capitalism, and by seemingly declining evidence of overt class struggle in advanced capitalist societies. Post-Marxists, such as Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe (1985), argued that the priority traditionally accorded to social class, and the central position of the working class in bringing about social change, was no longer sustainable. Racial and ethnic cleavages have also been significant in political thought. The concept of ‘race’ refers to the supposed identification of fundamental differences, usually biological or physical (e.g. skin or hair colour, physique, physiognomy), that supposedly distinguish peoples in socially significant ways. In practice, racial categories are largely based on cultural stereotypes and have little or no foundation in genetics. The idea of race, however, was of growing import in the modern Western period, originally in the natural sciences where, from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries, it was widely agreed that humanity was divided up into a discrete amount of separate species (usually 4–6) with distinct intellectual and physical capacities (i.e. a racial hierarchy). Such ideas had profound consequences on political thought and public debate. In most of the modern period, there has been a profound silence in political theory on race, even as many Western thinkers were increasingly egalitarian and inclusivist. And before the twentieth century, when major political thinkers did comment, it was with profoundly racist ideas. For example, in ‘Of National Characters’ David Hume commented that he was apt to suspect that all other races were ‘naturally inferior to whites’ and that this put in question whether justice as an ideal was due to them. Similarly, in multiple essays Immanuel Kant ([1802] 2012) endorsed a theory of race where ‘Humanity is at its greatest perfection in the race of the whites.’ The most grotesque twentieth-century manifestation of such racialism was found in the race theories of Nazism, which gave rise to the ‘final solution’, the attempt to exterminate European Jewry. At the same time, these views also spawned a critical race theory tradition that since the nineteenth century has been challenging racism within the Western tradition. This is now a core and continuing project for historians of political thought and political theorists (see Chapter 13). The term ‘ethnicity’ is preferred by many sociopolitical theorists because it refers to cultural, linguistic and social differences, not rooted in biology. In this way it seems to refer to groups whose identification is not part of their subjection. This is because key to ethnicity is a group belief in the reality and identity of the group itself. Most often, this identity is connected to supposedly objective shared features of the group: ancestry, religion, culture, language, values (to name some options). However, ethnicity substantially intersects with race because the political concern with ethnicity is its effect on multiethnic and multicultural contexts. As a result, the ethnic component to nationalism, and the rise of ethnic identities within Western (and non-Western) political communities in

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the twentieth century is a prominent area of focus for political theory. Political theorists in such debates as multiculturalism and multinationalism have attempted to think through the consequences of ethno-cultural diversity for the norms and institutions of liberaldemocratic states (see Chapter 12). The relation between religion and political life has at various points been a central question in modern political thought. In one sense, this tradition was motivated by the conflicts between religious and secular authority that dominated the late medieval period. The modern view of religion has been dominated, as a result, by liberal theory and its approach to this question. For example, the question of what to do with states that contained multiple Christian denominations led to early discussions of the concept of toleration (see Chapter 9). John Locke, in his A Letter Concerning Toleration ([1689] 1963), argued that the proper function of the state is to protect life, liberty and property, it has no right to meddle in ‘the care of men’s souls’. Religious truth can only be established by the individual for himself or herself; it cannot be taught, and should not be imposed by government. Locke’s argument amounts to a restatement of the case for privacy, and for an essential distinction between public and private in liberal democracies. Its influence is that public secularism and private religion has largely been the assumed normative ideal of modern Western states for most thinkers. While this has been problematized in recent decades in debates around post-secularism, this association meant that in the late twentieth-century religion was generally tied to discussions of diversity, inclusion and culture and so part of many of the same debates as those of ethnicity. However, the emergence of new and often more assertive forms of religiosity, the increasing impact of religious movements, and a closer relationship between religion and politics, especially since the 1970s, has confounded the so-called ‘secularization thesis’. This holds that modernization is invariably accompanied by the displacement of religion by secular forms of politics. Religious revivalism was most dramatically demonstrated by the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran, which brought Ayatollah Khomeini (see p. 367) to power. Nevertheless, this has not been an exclusively Islamic development, as ‘fundamentalist’ movements emerged in Christianity, particularly in the form of the ‘new Christian Right’ in the United States, within Hinduism and Sikhism in India, and within Buddhism in Sri Lanka (amongst others). Despite modern assumptions, religion as a social force thus remains a key question for political theory today.

CONCLUSION The topic of human nature has an odd status in contemporary political theory. In one sense it is a widely criticized concept, difficult to appeal to overtly. That said, all political theories must operate with some explicit or implicit understanding of humanity, individuals and social groups. These can include ideas of the drives that motivate us (reason, emotion, instinct), the extent to which we change (essence vs evolution) and the dynamics of our group lives (competition, cooperation, conflict). Without some idea of what humans are like, one could not make any explanatory or normative claims about political life. In more contemporary discussions, claims about human nature often come packaged within more contemporary headings, including moral psychology, ontology, capacities, rational actors, affect and others. Importantly, such different takes on human nature represent different approaches to the topic. As Bhikhu Parekh notes,

The Problem of Human Nature: The Individual and Society

Some writers take a substantive or thick view, and others a largely formal view of it. Some take a teleological and others a mechanistic view. For some it determines, and for others it only disposes human beings to act in certain ways. Some define it to mean all that characterizes human beings including what they share in common with animals; for others it only refers to what is distinctive to them and marks them off as a distinct species. (Parekh 2000) In this way, debates about human nature are both unavoidable and often at cross purposes and different ‘Schools’ or ‘Traditions’ in political thought continue to operate with very different accounts of humanity, the individual and the social.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS THOMAS HOBBES’S LEVIATHAN ([1651] 1968), PT. 1, CH. 13, ‘OF THE NATURAL CONDITION OF MANKIND AS CONCERNING THEIR FELICITY AND MISERY’ Hobbes’s Leviathan ([1651] 1968) is one of the earliest and most influential texts in the tradition of modern Western political thought. It both launched the modern social contract tradition (see p. 47) and represents one of the earliest modern theories of the state and government. Specifically, Leviathan is a rationalist text: it sought to lay out a set of rational universal principles to construct political society and institutions that would not be subject to forces of internal degradation. In that work, Hobbes defends absolutist government, the first major modern theory of the state, as the only alternative to anarchy and disorder. To make this argument, he employed the idea of life in a stateless society, the state of nature, to illustrate the effect of government on humanity. This is a situation in which there are no social or political constraints on individual action, only what an individual can and will do. Part of the power of Hobbes argument was and is the originality of this approach and its deep claim to look inside human nature. He argued that such a condition would be ‘a war of all against all’, based on the belief that human beings are relatively equal, desiring, and likely to conflict over their aims. From this he concludes that the state of nature, as an amoral and lawless state, would provide strong rational grounds for absolutist government.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘For as to the strength of body, the weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret machination, or by confederacy with others, that are in the same danger with himself.’ 2. ‘Prom this equality of ability, ariseth equality of hope in the attaining of our ends. And therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which nevertheless they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies; and in the way to their end, (which is principally their own conservation, and sometimes their delectation only,) endeavor to destroy, or subdue one another.’ 3. ‘Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such a war, as is of every man, against every man. For WAR, consisteth not in battle only, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently known.’ 4. ‘To this war of every man against every man, this also is consequent; that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have there no place.’

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Reading questions 1. How does Hobbes approach theorizing human nature and what are the strengths and weaknesses of this approach? 2. Why does Hobbes think humans are basically equal and in what sense? 3. Why does Hobbes characterize the state of nature as a war?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy To what does the concept of ‘human nature’

refer? yy Must all political thought be grounded in a concept of human nature? Why or why not? yy Is human nature ‘plastic’, shaped by external forces, or fixed by certain attributes?

yy What are the implications of assuming that human beings are largely driven by nonrational impulses? yy On what grounds have people been portrayed as naturally cooperative? yy Is individualism a necessarily anti-statist doctrine and collectivism pro-state? yy Is society based on conflict or consensus?

FURTHER READING Forbes, I. and Smith, S. (eds) Politics and Human Nature (1993). Still one of the most comprehensive examinations of conceptions of human nature from different major figures, ideologies and theoretical traditions in political theory. Lukes, S. Individualism (2006). A classic examination of what individualism has meant in different national tradition and provinces of thought, which argues that it has come to play a malign ideological role.

Parekh, B. ‘Conceptualizing Human Beings’ in Rethinking Multiculturalism (2000). A very useful examination of the question of human nature and its role in political thought. Stevenson, L. Ten Theories of Human Nature (1998). An account of competing theories of human nature that considers views ranging from ancient religious traditions to modern scientific theorizing.

PART

2

MODERN POLITICAL PROBLEMS

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THE PROBLEM OF POWER: AUTHORITY AND LEGITIMACY Introduction71 Power72 •• Decision-making74 •• Agenda-setting75 •• Preference manipulation 76 •• A fourth face of power? 80 Authority83 •• Power and authority 84 •• Kinds of authority 85 •• Justifying authority 87 Legitimacy90 •• Legitimacy, consent and constitutionalism91 •• Legitimacy as ideological hegemony93 Conclusion96

INTRODUCTION Power is, for many, the central political concept. The practice of politics is often portrayed as little more than the exercise of power, and the academic subject as the study of power. In one sense, this is uncontroversial. All empirical and theoretical approaches to studying politics must be concerned with the past, current and future distribution of power: who has it, how it is used and on what basis it is exercised. However, that unity belies two more fundamental controversies in the study of politics over power: (1) how to define it and (2) what the normative dimensions of power are. Both are key to political theory’s use of the concept and so are discussed in turn in the introduction and chapter.

The study of politics is structured by deep and recurrent disagreement over how to define power. Some have gone as far as to suggest that there is no single, agreed concept of power but rather a number of competing concepts or theories. Competing conceptions of power will disagree as a result over a series of questions or claims we might put the concept to. What is the distribution of power within modern society? Is power distributed widely and evenly dispersed, or is it concentrated in the hands of the few, a ‘power elite’ or ‘ruling class’? Is power essentially benign, enabling people to achieve their collective goals, is it a form of oppression or domination, or is it somehow productive and constitutive? The 71

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difficulty of the conceptual controversy over power cannot be overstated. When the central concept of a discipline is controversial, there is disagreement not only over how to explain power but also how to normatively assess it. In this way, the centrality of power to political science generally obscures that political theory as a discipline has a more complex relation to the concept. Because political theory blends and links descriptive-explanatory and normative questions (see Chapter 1), there are not only methodological debates about how to study power but also normative ones over how best to understand the unique nature of legitimate power. For example, understanding power only as a form of domination or control that forces one person to obey another, runs into the problem that in political life power is very commonly exercised through the willing obedience of the public. Those ‘in power’ do not merely possess the ability to enforce compliance, but are usually thought to have the right to do so. This highlights both the distinction and the link between power and authority. What is it, however, that transforms power into authority, and on what basis can authority be rightfully exercised? This leads to another key concept in the study of politics (and particularly political theory): legitimacy. The concept of legitimacy attempts to describe a unique normative status that some forms of authority have: rightful or correct authority. Legitimacy concerns those forms of authority and power that we have some sort of obligation to obey. This means it is both about how and why people might perceive something as legitimate (a descriptive question) and why they should see something as legitimate or not (a normative question). Modern Western politics is uniquely tied to the concept of legitimacy and so also to this normative-empirical tension around power. In this way, the concept of power has, and continues, to pose a unique, foundational problem for political thought. This chapter examines this by first examining the major empirical approaches to power within twentieth-century political science. These offer a background to the normative issues around, in the first instance, authority, and in the second, legitimacy.

POWER There are perhaps as many theories of power as there are scholars of politics. This speaks to the centrality of the concept to political theory and political science. Terence Ball has argued that ‘power is arguably the single most organising concept in social and political theory’ (1997). Ball here is arguing not only that power is of central conceptual importance to politics but that the definition of power significantly affects how one approaches other political concepts and studying politics generally. The essential contestability of concepts (see Chapter 1) means that any definition of power includes a variety of other contested concepts (e.g. authority, sovereignty, legitimacy, politics, etc.). This issue is only exacerbated when the concept is so central and controversial in a discipline. In the social sciences, the most general concept of power focuses on the ability to achieve a desired outcome, sometimes referred to as power to. This could include the

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

accomplishment of actions as simple as buying a newspaper. What is key here is that power is something held by an actor (probably consciously) and deployed to an end. In this sense, power is a capacity that allows one to do something. It is instrumental, a means. This is distinguished from what is now, arguably, the dominant language around power. Power is a relationship, the exercise of control by one person over another: power over. The key difference is that power is not primarily known through studying the person who has power. Rather, power is identified in the relation between two individuals or groups. Power is a relation of domination. These two views can be reconciled in seeing power as a capacity to dominate. On this view, power is the capacity to make formal decisions that are in some way binding on others, whether these are made by teachers in the classroom, parents in the family or by government ministers in relation to the whole of society. At their extremes though these views seem to repeat the previous emphases in the structure versus agency divide: one holds that power is always an attribute of an identifiable agent, be it an interest group, political party or major corporation, while the other sees power as generated from relations in a social system. One way to resolve these controversies is to see power as ‘essentially contested’ and various theories as highlighting its dimensions. This acknowledges that no settled definition can be developed, even if there are reasons for employing a definition at different times. This is Steven Lukes’s approach in Power: A Radical View ([1975] 2004), an iconic text within political theory on larger conceptual debates in political science on power. In what has become known as the ‘Faces of Power Debate’, Lukes distinguished between three ‘faces’ or ‘dimensions’ of power prevalent in political thought and science. Importantly, he was reacting to ongoing controversies around whether liberal democratic politics in the twentieth century demonstrated a centralized elite model of rule (i.e. where political elites generally had exclusive power) or a distributed model with a wider balance of power (i.e. held by a variety of groups, individuals and institutions). Lukes also highlighted a key aspect of this controversy: that the question of power was about ‘how to think about power theoretically and how to study it empirically’. That is, the faces of power was both about how best to define power and how each definition enabled a particular method of studying power that was more or less useful. Methodological, conceptual and normative issues were thus all at play. The great value of Lukes’s analysis is to illustrate that power can be said to have (at least) three faces. First, it can involve the ability to influence the making of decisions; second, it may be reflected in the capacity to shape political agendas; and third, it may take the form of controlling people’s perceptions and preferences. This section will close with a fourth face of power, power as productive, that has become another contender since Lukes.

THINKER THOMAS HOBBES (1588–1679) English political philosopher. Hobbes was the son of a minor clergyman. He was tutor to the exiled Prince of Wales, Charles Stuart, and lived under the patronage of the Cavendish family. Writing at a time of civil strife, precipitated by the English Revolution, Hobbes developed the first comprehensive theory of human behaviour since Aristotle.

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Hobbes’s major work Leviathan ([1651] 1968) defended absolutist government as the only alternative to anarchy. He portrayed life in a stateless society, the state of nature, as ‘a war of all against all’, based on an account of human beings as essentially power-seeking. In Hobbes’s view, citizens have an unqualified obligation towards the state, arguing that limiting the power of government risks descent into the state of nature. Hobbes thus provided a rationalist defence for absolutism (see p. 139); however, because he based authority on consent and allowed that sovereign authority may take forms other than monarchy, he upset supporters of the divine right of kings. Hobbes’s moral and conflictual view of human nature and his emphasis on the vital importance of authority had considerable impact on liberal (see p. 280) and conservative thought (see p. 142), but his individualist methodology and the use he made of social contract theory prefigured several trends in early liberalism (see p. 37).

Decision-making The first ‘face’ of power dates to Thomas Hobbes’s suggestion that power is the ability of an ‘agent’ to affect the behaviour of a ‘patient’. This notion is analogous to the idea of physical or mechanical power; power involves being ‘pulled’ or ‘pushed’ against one’s will. This view of power has been central to mainstream twentieth century Anglo-American political science, which was dominated by the behaviourism of the 1950s and 1960s. Its classic statement is Robert Dahl’s ‘A Critique of the Ruling Elite Model’ (1958). Dahl (see p. 188) deeply criticized the claim, common to conservative elite theory and critical (often Marxist) approaches, that power was concentrated in the hands of a ‘ruling elite’. He argued that such theories were largely based on asking where power was believed to be located. In contrast, Dahl treated power as the ability to influence the decision-making process. Determining this was a matter of assessing the intent or preferences of a group, and comparing the outcome of any decision-making process. This approach he believed was objective and quantifiable. For him, power is a question of who gets their way, how often, and over what issues. Dahl famously summarized this in ‘The Concept of Power’ with the formula: A has power over B when A can ‘get B to do something that B would not otherwise do’ (1957). This is a one-dimensional view of power as it sees power as a relation of domination when one actor controls the behaviour of another to get them to act in a way contrary to the latter’s stated preferences. There are four theoretical assumptions in this model. First, power is an attribute of individuals used in their relationships with others. In this sense it is identifiable in their behaviour. Second, power is a form of domination (power over), not a capacity (power to). It is not that individuals have to produce an outcome, but something that allows them to dominate others to produce that outcome. Third, power manifests in its effects and is only present there. If A tries to dominate B to some end and fails, no power is present. Fourth, as a result, power is zero-sum. In any interaction, some will have power and some will not. If A gets B to do what they would not otherwise do, A has power and B does not. There are several theoretical advantages to this view. In the first instance, it corresponds to the common-sense notion of power as success (i.e. that it is about outcomes), and the quotidian view that power is about decisions and how they are made. More importantly

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

for political theorists and scientists, this view of power has methodological advantages. As Dahl claimed, it is a clear and parsimonious definition; it can be operationalized in a relatively straightforward way in an empirical study of the distribution of power within any group, community or society. The method consists in (1) selecting ‘key’ decisionmaking areas; (2) identifying the actors involved and discovering their preferences; and (3) analysing the decisions made and comparing these with the preferences of the actors. On this definition of power, a clear object of analysis can be identified (sites of decisionmaking) and power is rendered measurable. It is unsurprising that this definition was enthusiastically adopted by political scientists and sociologists, especially in the United States, in the late 1950s and 1960s, and spawned a large number of ‘community power’ studies. The most famous such study was Dahl’s own analysis of the distribution of power in Who Governs? ([1963] 2005). Simplicity can also breed disadvantages as this conception of power has clear limitations. While many criticisms have been made, we focus on two that motivate the second and third faces of power. First, by focusing exclusively on decisions, this approach mis-recognizes a common instance of power by ignoring how actors prevent decisions from happening. That is, its focus on methodological simplicity and the availability of data means it ends up with too narrow a view of what outcomes power has. This criticism motivates the ‘second face of power’. Second, more expansively, this conception of power is exclusively actorcentred. Power is only an attribute of relationships between concrete individuals (and sometimes groups). It cannot manifest in larger cultural, social or historical structures. This is a very agency-centred approach that has two problematic effects. On the one hand, power relations can exist only when there is an observable conflict of interests between those exercising power and those over whom it is exercised. This means that power cannot exist in a context where the weaker party does not identify themselves as being subjected to power by having an interest or preference they are prevented from pursuing. On the other hand, this view of power assumes that an actor’s interests are synonymous with their stated preferences. Like classical liberal theory, individuals are taken to be the best judges of their interests and there is no attempted differentiation between their real interests and stated preferences.

Agenda-setting The second face of power is a relatively minor revision to the first that expands the range of actions and contexts of power. It responds to the first major criticism from the previous discussion of power as decision-making: that the focus on methodological simplicity and the availability of data means that it ends up a limited view of power’s outcomes. In their seminal essay ‘The Two Faces of Power’ ([1962] 1981), P. Bachrach and M. Baratz described ‘non-decision-making’ as the ‘second face of power’. Although Bachrach and Baratz accepted that power is reflected in the decision-making process, they insisted that ‘to the extent that a person or group – consciously or unconsciously – creates or reinforces barriers to the public airing of policy conflicts, that person or group has power’. To return to Dahl’s formula, the neo-elitist reformation of Bachrach and Baratz is: ‘A devotes his energies to creating or reinforcing social and political values and institutional practices that limit the scope of the political process to public considerations of only those issues which are comparatively innocuous to A’. This form of

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power is non-decision-making: a decision that results in the exclusion of discussions that threaten the interests of the decision maker. As E. E. Schattschneider (1960) succinctly put it, ‘Some issues are organized into politics while others are organized out’; power is the ability to set the political agenda for the decision-making process. This form of power may be more difficult but not impossible to identify, requiring an understanding of the dynamics of non-decision-making. Whereas the decision-making approach focuses attention on the active participation of groups, non-decisions highlight the importance of political organization in blocking the participation of certain groups and views. Schattschneider summed this up in his famous assertion that ‘organization is the mobilization of bias’. There are at least two important innovations in this view for political theorists and scientists. First, the second face of power expands political power by including the largely informal process of agenda-setting that occurs around formal decision-making. In this sense, it is more nuanced and institutionally sophisticated, capable of including a greater range of possible causes. Second, it introduces the possibility of weighting different forces in the overall decision-making process (formal and informal) to assess where power really lies. The result is that non-decision-making can be seen to operate within liberal democratic systems in several ways. For example, although political parties are normally seen as vehicles through which interests are expressed, they can just as easily block views. This can happen either when all major parties implicitly disregard an issue (e.g. because there are costs for each party in raising it with at least some of their supporters), or when parties fundamentally agree, in which case the issue is never raised. For example, climate change and other systemic issues have often encountered barriers to getting on the mainstream political agenda and, for some, this is because decision makers see large costs to discussing them. In the largest sense, this understanding of power remains limited. Specifically, by continuing to focus on decision-making, this view retains most of the weaknesses of the previous while adding some of its own. In terms of the former, it retains the anti-systemic and actor-centric model of power that assumes that power relations are observable to actors and that stated interests are real interests. Even though agenda-setting may be recognized with decision-making as important faces of power, neither takes account of how power can be wielded through manipulating what people think. Additionally, it threatens to produce a very constrained and ideological account of power. Non-decisionmaking has often generated elitist rather than pluralist conclusions. Bachrach and Baratz have pointed out that the ‘mobilization of bias’ in conventional politics normally operates in the interests of what they call ‘status quo defenders’, privileged or elite groups. Elitists have, indeed, sometimes portrayed liberal democratic politics as a series of filters through which radical proposals are weeded out and kept off political agendas. However, this only seems to raise the question of why a people might accept such a centralized system. How might power affect what people think?

Preference manipulation The two previous approaches to power – decision-making and non-decision-making – share a basic limitation. Lukes argues they constrain the use of the concept of power to situations with observable (i.e. reported) conflict. This problematically assumes that what individuals and groups want is what they say they want. Indeed, both perspectives agree

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

that it is only when groups have clearly stated preferences that it is possible to say who has power and who does not. There are two problems with such a position (that stated preferences are real preferences) for Lukes and others. First, it treats individuals and groups as rational and autonomous actors, capable of knowing their own interests, articulating them clearly, and being primarily motived by them. While many liberal theorists remain committed to the normative importance of this view for moral reflection, many critics have countered that no human being possesses an entirely independent mind; ideas, opinions and preferences are shaped by social experience, through the influence of family, peer groups, school, the workplace, the mass media, political parties and so forth (see Chapter 3). Second, this position also assumes perfect information. It assumes that in forming preferences, individuals have enough information (e.g. about the social and political system) to accurately assess their interests. This includes not only information but also the conceptual resources they have to understand how power structures their context. This suggests a third ‘face’ of power: power as preference manipulation. Rather than overt domination, this form of power is the ability of A to exercise power over B by ‘influencing, shaping or determining his very wants’. For Lukes, this is perhaps the most important form of political power precisely because it is the most difficult to root out, expose and oppose. As he aptly notes, is it not the most insidious exercise of power to prevent people, to whatever degree, from having grievances by shaping their perceptions, cognitions, and preferences in such a way that they accept their role in the existing order of things, either because they can see or imagine no alternative to it, or because they see it as natural or unchangeable, or because they value it as divinely ordained and beneficial? ([1975] 2004) This ‘radical’ view of power, for Lukes, exposes the third face of power that avoids defining it solely through the behaviour of the agents involved. This raises the possibility of structural notions of power that take a historical and broad view. If power is taken to shape individual and social perceptions in the ways Lukes suggests, it requires understanding how the unique structure of power operates. However, such a view will likely be controversial because it requires a distinction between truth and falsehood, between subjective or ‘felt’ (perceived) interests and ‘real’ (objective) interests. This conception of power has been influential in a variety of traditions in political thought since the nineteenth century. In this way, Lukes’s third dimension is more a general articulation of a common understanding than a conceptual innovation. For example, this conception of power has been particularly prominent within Marxism. Capitalism, Marxists argue, is a system of class exploitation, where economic, social and political power is monopolized by a ‘ruling class’, the bourgeoisie. The power of the bourgeoisie is ideological, as well as economic and political. In Marx’s view, the dominant ideas, values and beliefs of any society are the ideas of its ruling class. In The German Ideology (Marx and Engels [1846] 1970), Marx famously claimed ‘The class which has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental production, so that thereby, generally speaking, the ideas of those who lack the means of mental production are subject to it.’ Further, the ruling ideas are usually an

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idealized vision of the social relations that support the current ruling class. ‘The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material relationships, the dominant material relationships grasped as ideas; hence of the relationships which make the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance.’ The exploited class, the proletariat, understand socio-economic relations through these ideas and theories and, thus, suffer from what Engels (see p. 250) termed ‘false consciousness’. In effect, they are prevented from recognizing their own exploitation. In this way, the ‘real’ interests of the proletariat, which are served only by abolishing capitalism, differ from their ‘felt’ interests. This broad structure has been central to many Marxist thinkers’ view of ideological power, such as that developed by Gramsci (see p. 250) and critical theory (see p. 78). Lenin (see p. 250), for example, argued that the power of ‘bourgeois ideology’ was such that, left on its own, the proletariat would be able to achieve only ‘trade union consciousness’: the desire to improve their material conditions within the capitalist system. More expansively, in One-Dimensional Man (1964), Herbert Marcuse (see p. 79) argued that the totalitarian character of advanced industrial societies was based not on open force, but on the pervasive manipulation of needs made possible by modern technology. This created what Marcuse called ‘a comfortable, smooth, reasonable, democratic unfreedom’. In such circumstances, the absence of conflict in society does not attest to general contentment and a wide dispersal of power. Rather, a ‘society without opposition’ reveals the success of an insidious process of ideological control.

TRADITION:  Critical Theory or ‘The Frankfurt School’ While the term can broadly refer to many traditions in modern Western political thought focusing on critical approaches to political thinking, critical theory refers to the work of the Frankfurt School of Social Theory. Originally located at the Institute of Social Research, established in Frankfurt in 1923, it relocated to the United States in the 1930s, and was re-established in Frankfurt in the early 1950s before dissolving in 1969. There are three phases in the development of critical theory. The first is associated with the central figures of the pre-war and early post-war period, notably Horkheimer, Adorno and Marcuse. The second phase stems from the work of Habermas. The final, current, phase has broadened out critical theory under the leadership of Honneth. Critical theory has never constituted a unified school. However, certain general themes tend to distinguish Frankfurt thinkers. Their original intellectual and political inspiration was Marxism (see p. 249). However, critical theorists

were concerned by Stalinism, criticized the determinist tendencies in orthodox Marxism, and sought to address Marx’s inaccurate predictions about the inevitable collapse of capitalism. Frankfurt thinkers therefore developed a neo-Marxism that focused on analysing ideology, rather than economics, and no longer treated the proletariat as the revolutionary agent. They also blended Marxist insights with those of thinkers such as Kant (see p. 230), Hegel (see p. 18), Weber and Freud. Critical theory is characterized by the attempt to extend the notion of critique to all social practices by linking substantive social research to philosophy. In so doing, it both exceeds Marxist methodology and blends traditionally discrete disciplines, including economics, sociology, philosophy, psychology and literary criticism. While early Frankfurt thinkers were primarily concerned with analysing discrete societies, later theorists have focused on international politics. In this respect, critical theorists have an explicit commitment to

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

emancipatory politics: uncovering structures of oppression in global politics to advance individual and collective freedom. Sometimes this has also encouraged them to question the conventional association within political theory between political community and the state, creating the possibility of a cosmopolitan political identity. Critical theory has itself attracted criticism. For example, ‘First-generation’ Frankfurt thinkers were criticized for advancing a theory of social transformation that was often disengaged from ongoing social struggle. Moreover, they were accused of overemphasizing the capacity of capitalism to absorb oppositional forces, and thus of underestimating crisis tendencies within capitalist society. Nonetheless, critical theory has offered important insights through the cross-fertilization of academic disciplines and by straddling Marxism and conventional social theory. It has provided an imaginative perspective to explore the problems and contradictions of existing society. Key figures Max Horkheimer (1895–1973)  A German philosopher and social psychologist, Horkheimer pioneered the interdisciplinary approach of

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critical theory. His principal concern was to analyse the psychic and ideological mechanisms through which class societies contain conflict. Horkheimer’s major works include Dialectic of Enlightenment (with Theodor Adorno) (1944) and The Eclipse of Reason (1974). Herbert Marcuse (1898–1979)  A German political philosopher and social theorist, Marcuse portrayed advanced industrial society as an all-encompassing system of repression, which subdues argument and debate and absorbs opposition. Against this ‘one-dimensional society’, he held up the utopian prospect of personal and sexual liberation. Marcuse’s key works include Reason and Revolution (1941), Eros and Civilization ([1955] 1969) and OneDimensional Man (1964). Jürgen Habermas (born 1929)  A German philosopher and social theorist, Habermas is the leading exponent of the ‘second generation’ of the Frankfurt School. Habermas’s work ranges over epistemology, the dynamics of advanced capitalism, the nature of rationality, and the relationship between social science and philosophy. Habermas’s main works include Towards Rational Society (1970) and The Theory of Communicative Competence (1984, 1988).

Similarly, this structural notion of power has been key to feminist theories of power and the notion of ‘patriarchy’. For example, Carole Pateman’s The Sexual Contract (1988) was a deeply influential re-reading of the social contract tradition in modern political thought that attempted to illustrate how liberal understandings of contract justified the systematic exclusion of women from social, economic and political life. She argued that the social contract relied upon an implicit sexual contract between the state and adult men, which made women subordinate to and dependent on individual men. As a result, for her, the gender difference between men and women is constituted through domination: ‘the patriarchal construction of the difference between masculinity and femininity is the political difference between freedom and subjection’. Such notions of patriarchy have raised very difficult questions for feminists. Simone de Beauvoir, in her The Second Sex ([1949] 2010) confronted the question of ‘Bad Faith’: women’s complicity in the patriarchal structure. For her, part of the invidious nature of the domination of women is how it encourages complicity. ‘Hence woman makes no claim for herself as subject because she lacks the concrete means, because she senses the necessary link connecting her to man without positing its reciprocity, and because she often derives satisfaction from her role as the Other’ (de Beauvoir [1949] 2010: 10). For de Beauvoir, dependence

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and subjection can produce a sort of happiness at not having to be responsible for one’s self, for not having to make difficult choices. Finally, postcolonial theorists (see Chapter 13) have argued that understanding colonialism, as a structure of domination, requires addressing its complex legacy and effects. While these effects are material and economic, many postcolonial thinkers have highlighted that they are also cultural and psychological. For example, in Orientalism (1978) Edward Said argued that European colonization of the Middle East had also had a fundamental effect on knowledge itself: it constructed the idea of an Orient with certain values, tendencies and pathologies that the West knew something about. ‘The relationship between Occident and Orient is a relationship of power, of domination, of varying degrees of a complex hegemony … The Orient was Orientalized not only because it was discovered to be “Oriental” in all those ways considered common-place by an average nineteenth-century European but also because it could be—that is, submitted to being—made Oriental.’ Such colonizing images produced by the West about colonial subjects have been absorbed and internalized by formerly colonized peoples with effects on their cultural systems of values and understanding. These issues undermine the idea that colonialism is an event with a discernible end. How post is colonialism? Despite this great variety of critical work in the radical view of power, there are limitations. Principally, to argue that people’s perceptions are a delusion, that their ‘felt’ needs are not their ‘real’ needs, requires a standard of truth against which to judge them. If stated preferences are unreliable, how can we ascertain their ‘real’ interests? For example, if class antagonisms are obscured by bourgeois ideology, how can the Marxist notion of a ‘ruling class’ be tested? Marxism has sometimes relied on claiming a scientific approach to answer this charge. However, this basis was abandoned by many Marxists and postMarxists as discussions of foundationalism and anti-foundationalism became central to political thought in the 1970s (see Chapter 1). Amongst other issues, these perspectives ask if knowledge is socially determined and contaminated with power, whether all claims to truth are relative. This would compromise not only the status of scientific theories but all social-scientific work. It also suggests that any distinction between real and felt interests will rely on a contestable theory of human nature, of what people need for fulfilling lives, which cannot be definitively proved or critiqued. At least one further difficulty for power as preference manipulation results. In a sense, this applies to all three faces of power; however, it is most acute in this conception because of its critical lineage and attempt to offer a broad, structural approach. This is the fact that power in this third dimension is understood only negatively. Power deludes and obscures. Power is domination. In contrast, some theorists have wanted to argue that power produces.

A fourth dimension of power? The fourth dimension of power, which Lukes does not discuss, stems from the increasing prominence of post-structuralist conceptions of power in political theory. This approach, influenced by the writings of Michel Foucault (see p. 83), significantly overlaps with power as preference manipulation. However, there is a key difference. The third face of power understands power as negative: it is identified in structural relations of domination with a clear division between oppressor and oppressed. Further, the latter’s preferences

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

(and potentially their wider sociocultural values) are systematically distorted to serve the interests of the oppressor. As a result, Marxism (the original and most quintessential form) argues that the political power of capitalism is at least partly found in how capitalistic social relations are systematically distorted by ideology. In essence, the language of social, economic and political freedom in modern liberal democracies serves to prevent revolutionary consciousness in the proletariat. In contrast, post-structuralist theorists see power as ubiquitous, and argue that all systems of knowledge should be understood as manifestations of power. This approach is focused on the way in which language, and broader systems of thought, contain power relations. Foucault, for example, focused his analysis on the idea of a ‘discourse of power’. A discourse is a system of social relations, practices and ideas that assign meaning, and therefore identities, to those within it. Anything from institutionalized psychiatry and the prison service, as in Foucault’s case, to settler-colonialism and religious world views can be regarded as discourses. Discourses are a form of power in that they set up antagonisms and structure relations between people, who are defined as subjects or objects, as ‘insiders’ or ‘outsiders’. These identities are internalized, negotiated and contested through the politics of power. For many, this is a complex and difficult conception of power. Foucault clarified what he meant in a later essay called ‘The Subject and Power’ (1982). He clarifies that his notion of power is focused on how larger normative-cultural-practical structures (e.g. gender) constrain, produce, enable and limit individuality. ‘This form of power applies itself to immediate everyday life which categorizes the individual, marks him by his own individuality, attaches him to his own identity, imposes a law of truth on him which he must recognize and which others have to recognize in him. It is a form of power which makes individuals subjects.’ Power is not a simple relation between two individuals or groups, an oppressor and oppressed. Instead, power is the systematic shaping of society that pushes individuals to act in one way and not another, to encourage conformity and discourage deviance. ‘It [power] is a total structure of actions brought to bear upon possible actions; it incites, it induces, it seduces, it makes easier or more difficult.’ This leads to a distinctive definition of government. Rather than a formal set of coordinating institutions (liberal), or an institution reinforcing ruling-class dominance (Marxist), government for Foucault is about guiding conduct toward predetermined pathways: ‘The exercise of power consists in guiding the possibility of conduct and putting in order the possible outcome. Basically power is less a confrontation between two adversaries or the linking of one to the other than a question of government.’ Whatever one thinks of this notion of power, and critics and supporters abound, it is a distinctive perspective on power. Unlike the other faces of power, power here is neither negative, in being solely about domination, nor constrained to individual or even group actors. Regarding the former, power is not (only) domination. Power also produces. Without power relations we would have no meanings or identity. Regarding the latter, power is identified at a very wide level of practical-normative systems of constraint such as binary conceptions of gender or Judeo-Christian morality. On the critical side, it is exactly this positive and wide sense of power that has been the focus of many critics. For example, Jürgen Habermas, in what is known as the HabermasFoucault debate, argued that such a wide conception of power robbed the concept of any

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critical ability to distinguish between legitimate and illegitimate forms of power. Nancy Fraser (1981) summed up this critical position well saying Foucault’s work was a mix of ‘empirical insights and normative confusions’. This question of the relation between the empirical and normative dimensions of power illustrates its important link to authority and legitimacy.

TRADITION: Post-Structuralism/Postmodernism Postmodernism is a controversial term first used to describe experimental movements in Western architecture and cultural development in general. Postmodern philosophical and political thought originated principally in continental Europe, especially France, and constitutes a challenge to the political theory that dominated the Anglo-American world. However, the term, which was used very briefly, has largely been replaced by post-structuralism and “Continental political theory” to indicate a broad tradition that, while now established in Anglo-American political thought, originates in Europe (particularly France). The internally contested nature of poststructuralism makes generalizations difficult. What is common is an emphasis on language and meaning in politics, and a highlighting of contingency, instability, tension and conflict within language. For post-structuralist thinkers, politics is a linguistic activity of making meaning with other human language users, and there are no standards that do not have a linguistic origin. This means that concepts, norms and ideals only have validity within a given linguistic context and there are no overarching or universal standards to decide differences between frameworks. There are only relations of tension, conflict and power. Post-structuralist thinkers have been notable for deploying this critical view of language against Western modernity and its universal approach to justification. Modernity, as we have seen, stemmed largely from Enlightenment ideas and theories, and was expressed politically in ideological traditions that offer rival conceptions of the good life. Liberalism (see p. 37, 280) and Marxism (see p. 249) are the clearest examples

of such ‘metanarratives’. Modern political thought is characterized by foundationalism – the belief that it is possible to establish objective truths and universal values. By contrast, poststructuralists argue there is no such thing as certainty: the idea of universal truth should be discarded as imperialistic. Although poststructuralism does not constitute a unified body of thought, its critical attitude to truth-claims stems from the assumption that all knowledge is local, a view it shares with some communitarian thinkers (see p. 57). It emphasizes that all ideas and concepts are expressed in language and are enmeshed in relations of power. Political theory does not stand above these relations and bestow dispassionate understanding; it is a part of the power it analyses. Post-structuralist thought has been criticized from, at least, two angles. First, it has been accused of relativism, in that it holds that different modes of knowing are equally valid and thus rejects the idea that one can distinguish between truth and falsehood. Second, it has been charged with conservatism; an antifoundationalist political stance offers no perspective from which the existing order may be criticized and no basis for constructing an alternative social order. Nevertheless, its remorseless questioning of accepted beliefs has made it a powerful critical tool in recent decades in political theory. Its general emphasis on discourse, debate and democracy reflects the fact that to reject hierarchies of ideas is also to reject any political hierarchies. Martin Heidegger (1889–1976) A German philosopher and precursor of post-structuralism, Heidegger also had a major influence on phenomenology and existentialism. Fundamental

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

to his philosophical system was the question of the meaning of ‘Being’, or self-conscious existence. Heidegger’s most famous work is Being and Time (1927). Michel Foucault (1926–84) A French philosopher and radical intellectual, Foucault had a major impact on post-structuralism. He was principally concerned with forms of knowledge and the construction of the human subject. Central to this was his belief that knowledge is enmeshed in power, truth always being a social construct. Foucault’s key works include Madness and Civilization (1961), The

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Order of Things (1970) and History of Sexuality (1976). Jacques Derrida (1930–2004) A French philosopher, Derrida was the main proponent of deconstruction. Deconstruction is the task of raising questions about the ‘texts’ that constitute cultural life, exposing complications and contradictions of which their ‘authors’ are not fully conscious and for which they are not fully responsible. His major works include Writing and Difference (1967), Margins of Philosophy (1972) and Spectres of Marx (1993).

AUTHORITY While the fourth dimension of power complicates the predominately negative image in the history of political science and thought, a more fundamental issue defines political theory’s concern with power: its normative dimension. Two concepts have structured this discussion: authority and legitimacy, the former of which is the subject of this section, the latter the next. In its simplest sense, authority is a form of power; it is a means through which one person can influence the behaviour of another. However, analytically, power and authority are often distinguished from one another as different ways compliance is achieved. Whereas power can be defined as actually influencing another’s behaviour, authority can be understood as the right to do so. Power creates compliance through domination: pressure, threats, coercion or violence. Authority is based on a perceived ‘right to rule’ and achieves compliance through a claim to a moral obligation to obey. Although the basis of political authority is disputed, political thinkers tend to agree that it always has a moral character. This means there is a dimension of the authority question that is concerned not with whether authority is obeyed but whether it should be obeyed. That is, how do we justify some individuals, groups and institutions having authority over others in modern political societies. As we will see, several different justifications of authority, often discussed under ideas of ‘political obligation’ (see also Chapter 6), have dominated modern and contemporary political thought. Nonetheless, authority is not only normative and has not only been approached that way in social and political theory. Empirically, debates in the social sciences have provided important conceptual discussions on this concept. For example, the German sociologist Max Weber (1864–1920) approached authority as a question of why and how people accept the exercise of power as rightful or legitimate. In other words, he defined authority as people’s subjective belief about its rightfulness, regardless of whether it is morally justified. Weber’s approach treats authority as a form of power, highlighting their interconnection; authority is ‘legitimate power’, power cloaked in legitimacy. The empirical and normative questions surrounding the concept of authority, and its relation to power, explain why the concept is so central to political theory. As modern

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political cultures have been increasingly impacted by ideas of rights and democracy, the normative justification of power and authority has grown in significance. Equally, the complex and pluralistic nature of modern political societies means that the operation of power and authority has been of continuing concern. Consequently, the concept of authority is both complex and controversial. For example, although power and authority can be distinguished analytically, in practice the two tend to overlap and be confused with one another. Furthermore, since authority is obeyed for a variety of reasons and in contrasting circumstances, it is important to distinguish between the different forms it can take. Finally, authority is by no means the subject of universal approval. While many have regarded authority as an essential guarantee of order, others have warned that authority creates authoritarianism, the enemy of liberty and democracy.

Power and authority Before introducing empirical and normative debates, it is worth highlighting the ambiguous relationship between power and authority. While there is an important sense in which these concepts are distinguishable, they are also inextricably interwoven. Authority can be understood as a means of gaining compliance that avoids both persuasion, on the one hand, and coercion on the other. Persuasion is a means of influencing the behaviour of another that does not require authority. It can take the form of rational argument that attempts to show why a policy or behaviour ‘makes sense’, or appeals to self-interests that demonstrate a benefit. Much of electoral politics can be seen as persuasion. Similarly, authority can be distinguished from power. If authority involves the right to compel others, while power refers to exercising this in domination, power always draws on resources. In other words, power involves either reward or punishment. This applies whether power takes the form of pressure, intimidation, coercion or violence. Because it is based on an acknowledged ‘duty to obey’, authority manifests in automatic obedience. Since it is based on force, coercion is the antithesis of authority. When government exercises authority, its citizens obey the law willingly; when obedience is not willingly offered, government is forced to compel it. Although the concepts of power and authority can be distinguished analytically, the exercise of power and the exercise of authority often overlap. Authority is seldom exercised in the absence of power, and power usually involves claims to a limited form of authority. For example, political leadership almost always blends authority and power. A prime minister or president may enjoy support from cabinet colleagues out of party loyalty, respect for the office held, or the leader’s personal qualities. In such cases, the leader has authority. However, political leadership never rests on authority alone. The support also reflects the power they command – exercised, for example, in their ability to reward colleagues by promoting them or to punish colleagues by firing them. A final difficulty in the meaning of authority arises from the contrasting uses of the term. For example, people can be either ‘in authority’ or ‘an authority’. To describe a person as being in authority refers to his or her position within an institutional hierarchy. A teacher, policeman, civil servant, judge or minister exercises authority in this sense. They are office holders whose authority is based on the formal ‘powers’ of their post or position. By contrast, to be described as an authority recognizes someone

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

as possessing expertise, and their views as having a special status. People as varied as scientists, doctors, teachers, lawyers and academics may be ‘authorities’. This is what is usually described as ‘expert authority’. Some commentators have argued that this distinction highlights two contrasting types of authority. To be in authority implies the right to command obedience. To be an authority implies that a person’s views will be treated with special consideration, without suggesting they will be automatically obeyed.

Kinds of authority The empirical debate on authority has provided key ideas for larger conceptual discussions. Max Weber’s influential categorization of authority was concerned with categorizing particular ‘systems of domination’, and with highlighting in each the grounds of obedience. He did this by constructing three ‘ideal types’: conceptual models highlighting common, but not necessarily required, aspects of a phenomenon. These ideal types were traditional authority, charismatic authority and legal-rational authority, each of which legitimized authority differently. In identifying these models of political authority, Weber attempted to understand how authority changes over time. He contrasted the system of domination in relatively simple, ‘traditional’ societies with those in industrialized, bureaucratic and modern ones. For Weber, in traditional societies authority is based on respect for customs and traditions. Traditional authority is regarded as legitimate because it has ‘always existed’ and was accepted by earlier generations. In practice, it operates through a hierarchical system of social status. Such authority is constrained by a body of concrete rules, fixed and unquestioned customs. The most obvious examples of traditional authority are found among tribes or small groups, in the form of ‘patriarchalism’ – the domination of the father within the family or the ‘master’ over servants – and ‘gerontocracy’ – the rule of the aged, normally reflected in the authority of village ‘elders’. Traditional authority is thus closely tied up with hereditary systems of power and is not prevalent in modern industrial societies because of both the pace of social change, and how hereditary status contradicts modern democratic government. Nevertheless, vestiges of traditional authority are found in the survival of institutional monarchy in some industrial societies (e.g. the UK, Belgium, the Netherlands and Spain). Some have compared the idea of traditional authority and Confucian thinking on the subject (see p. 86), however the latter is deeply rooted in the notion of moral excellence. Charismatic authority, Weber’s second ideal type, is based on the power of an individual’s personality, his or her ‘charisma’. The word is derived from Christian theology and refers to divinely bestowed power, a ‘gift of grace’, reflected in the power Jesus exerted over his disciples. Charismatic authority owes nothing to a person’s status, position or office, and everything to their personal qualities and ability to persuade others. This form of authority is always present in political life to some degree because leadership requires motivating loyalty. In some cases, political leadership is constructed almost entirely based on charismatic authority, as in the case of fascist leaders such as Mussolini and Hitler, who sought unrestricted power free of constitutionally defined notions of leadership. Political leaders often try to ‘manufacture’ charisma, either by cultivating their media image and sharpening their oratorical skills or, in cases such as Mussolini,

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Stalin, Hitler and Mao Zedong, by orchestrating an elaborate ‘cult of personality’ through propaganda. Charismatic authority is often suspect in political thought. This reflects the belief that it is linked or predisposed to authoritarianism: the demand for unquestioning obedience and unconstrained power. Since it is based on personality rather than status or office, it is not confined by any rules or procedures. Furthermore, charismatic authority demands from its followers not only willing obedience but also discipleship, even devotion. It has frequently therefore had an intense, messianic quality; leaders such as Napoleon, Hitler and Stalin each presented themselves as saving their countries. This form of authority may be less central in liberal democratic regimes where the limits of leadership are constitutionally defined, but is nevertheless still significant. Since the twentieth century, the increasingly mediatized nature of political discourse has led to concerns that leaders are so insulated from public debate and dissent, and the public from real political deliberation, that politics is reduced to other more superficial measures of leadership appeal. Similarly, recent concerns around populism, post-truth and demagoguery repeat long-standing concerns in democratic thought on the relationship between democracy and the misuse of leadership (see Chapter 8).

BEYOND THE WEST CONFUCIANISM AND AUTHORITY Confucianism is a system of ethics formulated by Confucius (Kong Fuzi) (551–479 BCE) and his disciples and primarily outlined in the Analects. The dominant philosophical tradition in imperial China, Confucianism shaped almost every aspect of Chinese education until the early twentieth century, with interest in it having revived alongside the process of ‘modernization’ since the 1980s. Confucian thought focuses on the twin themes of human relations and the cultivation of the self. The emphasis on ren (‘humanity’ or ‘love’) has usually been interpreted as implying support for traditional ideas and values, notably filial piety, respect, loyalty and benevolence. The stress on junzi (the virtuous person) suggests a capacity for human development and potential for perfection, realized through education. Confucian thinking about authority centres on the vision of a hierarchical society in which there is a well-defined role for every member. This is based on the belief that there are three categories of people – sages (who embody and transmit wisdom, but are very few in number), nobles or ‘gentlemen’ (who predominate in ‘dealings with the world’; gentlemen constantly strive to do what is right and to follow the path of self-cultivation) and ‘small men’ (the mass of society, who have little concern for morality but will diligently follow the exemplary ruler). However, although this hierarchical model reflects the conservative idea that moral responsibility increases with social status, it is strictly meritocratic: Confucius believed that people are equal at birth and advocated a system of education open to all. People thus rise or fall in society based on their inner qualities, wealth or family background being irrelevant. Moreover, in the Confucian view, authority is essentially benevolent. As a ruling group, the gentlemen are distinguished by a sincere concern for the welfare of others that engenders political stability – ‘If you desire good, the people will be good.’ Increasingly, Confucianism has been compared with Western theories in the field of comparative political theory.

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

Legal-rational authority, the third ideal type, was the most important kind of authority since, in Weber’s view, it had almost entirely displaced traditional authority as the dominant mode of organization within modern industrial societies. It is characteristic of the large-scale, bureaucratic organizations of modern society and operates through the existence of a body of clearly defined rules. In effect, legalrational authority attaches authority to the office and its formal ‘powers’, not the office holder. As such, it is clearly distinct from both charismatic authority and traditional authority, having a clearly defined bureaucratic role rather than broader notions of status or personality. Legal-rational authority arises out of respect for the ‘rule of law’ (see Chapter 6), the idea of the supremacy of law, in that power is always legally defined, ensuring that those who exercise power do so within a framework of law. The power of a president, prime minister or other government officer is prescribed by formal, constitutional rules, which constrain what an office holder can do. For Weber, this form of authority is preferable to the others. In the first place, in clearly defining the realm of authority and attaching it to an office rather than a person, bureaucratic authority is less likely to be abused or produce injustice. In being based on the principles of efficiency and a rational division of labour, the misuse of political power by any one official is constrained. However, he recognized this created a new threat. The price of greater efficiency was a more depersonalized social environment, typified by the relentless spread of bureaucratic organization.

Justifying authority The concept of authority is not only complex but also controversial. Its normative dimension, where authority is a question of who should have authority, leads to a series of debates in political thought about whether authority is a morally desirable relation and, if it can be, under what conditions? Such questions go to the very heart of political theory (also overlapping with the debate about politics in Chapter 5). While these modern and contemporary debates are complex, three spheres of positions can be identified: (1) a limited and constrained notion of authority based on consent; (2) a broad justification of authority based on need; and (3) a critical account of authority based on deeply perverse social consequences. Together these provide important context for the discussion of legitimacy, which develops these normative issues, discussed in the next section. There is a body of theories that justify a limited conception of authority. This could be described as the majority position in the history of Western political thought, shared amongst many classical, modern and contemporary liberals, some conservatives and pockets within radical traditions. Social contract theory provides the classic justification for this view of authority. As discussed in Chapter 3, these theories rooted their arguments in an image of a society without an established system of authority (or society and government), a so-called ‘state of nature’. Importantly, the key contributors to this tradition (Hobbes, Locke and Rousseau) all describe this state differently. For example, for Hobbes, the state of nature is a lawless context of insecurity and the perpetual threat of violence, where individuals can and will conflict with another to achieve their ends. On the other hand, for Locke, even the state of nature has a

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natural law to it that constrains individuals. Despite these differences, most thinkers in this tradition share an ambivalent attitude towards authority that has been inherited in many liberal theorists. This is for the simple reason that for most social contract theorists, individuals only agree to enter society and the state (i.e. creating authority) to incur certain advantages there, and that this necessitates a loss of natural liberty. This suggests that the need for authority is recognizable by all rational individuals, who respect authority both because it establishes advantages (often order and stability). However, it is a loss of something important to individuals, a form of liberty that only exists without authority. As a result, liberals especially emphasize that justified authority arises ‘from below’: it is based on the consent of the governed. Authority necessarily constrains liberty and has the capacity to become oppressive. As a result, liberals insist that authority be constrained, preferring legal-rational forms of authority that operate within clearly defined legal-constitutional boundaries. We return to this argument around consent in the discussion of legitimacy. A second group of positions reassert authority arguing for its more central need in human society. While prominent in many conservative political discourses in Western modernity, this is a comparatively minority intellectual tradition associated primarily with conservative political thought. In their view, authority is seldom based on consent but arises out of what Roger Scruton (2001) called ‘natural necessity’. Authority is an essential feature of all social institutions, a basic need for leadership, guidance and support. For example, conservatives observe that the authority of parents is in no meaningful sense based on consent. Parental authority arises from the desire of parents to nurture, care for and love their children. It is exercised ‘from above’ for the benefit of those below. From the conservative perspective, authority promotes social cohesion and strengthens the fabric of society; it is the basis of genuine community. Hence, neoconservatives have been fiercely critical of the spread of ‘permissiveness’, believing that undermining the authority of established social roles (e.g. parents, teachers and the police) increases crime and delinquency. Focused on the goods of authority in this way, this justification does not seem to necessarily place limits on authority. The argument from need is not necessarily tied to conservatism, and there are some authors who make this argument from within other traditions. The commonality is a focus on the good of political order. For example, from a republican perspective, Hannah Arendt (see p. 89) suggested that the erosion of authority can precipitate totalitarian rule. She argued that society is held together by respect for traditional authority. Strong traditional norms, reflected in standards of moral and social behaviour, act as a cement binding society. The virtue of authority is that it provides individuals with a social identity, stability and reassurance; the ‘collapse of authority’ leaves them disorientated, prey to demagogues and would-be dictators. In The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951), Arendt suggested that the decline of traditional values and hierarchies was one factor that explained the advent of Nazism and Stalinism. In recent political theory, some liberals and critical theorists have criticized the overly moral focus of contemporary political theory. Thinkers such as Bernard Williams and Raymond Geuss have argued that stability, not justice as John Rawls argued, is the primary political good and that such stability flows from settled centres of authority. Some of these views return in the discussion of law and order in Chapter 6.

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

THINKER HANNAH ARENDT (1906–75) German political theorist and philosopher. Arendt was brought up in a middle-class Jewish family. She fled Germany in 1933 to escape Nazism, and settled in the United States, where her major work was produced. Arendt’s wide-ranging, even idiosyncratic, writing was influenced by the existentialism of Heidegger (see p. 82) and Jaspers (1883–1969). In The Origins of Totalitarianism (1951), which examined the nature of Nazism and Stalinism, she developed a critique of modern mass society, pointing out the link between its tendency to alienation, caused by the breakdown of traditional norms, and the rise of totalitarian movements. Her most important philosophical work, The Human Condition (1958), develops Aristotle’s thought (see p. 101) in arguing that political action is the central part of a proper human life. She portrayed the public sphere as the realm in which freedom is expressed, and meaning is given to private endeavours. She analysed the American and French Revolutions in On Revolution (1963b), arguing that each had abandoned the ‘lost treasure’ of the revolutionary tradition, the former by leaving the mass of citizens outside the political arena, the latter by its concentration on the ‘social question’ rather than freedom. In Eichmann in Jerusalem (1963a), Arendt used the fate of the Nazi war criminal Adolf Eichmann to discuss the ‘banality of evil’.

The final group of positions reject authority as oppressive. This radical critique overlaps between some anarchists, libertarian and socialist thinkers. The central theme is that authority is the enemy of liberty, often conceived of as autonomy. All forms of authority, which put some in power over others, are a threat to liberty/autonomy as they create inequality, and hence oppression. In this sense, there is necessarily zero-sum relations between authority and liberty/autonomy: as the sphere of authority expands, liberty is constrained. In these theories, liberty/autonomy is often the base of social development and individual fulfilment. Authority in any form inhibits those goods and creates perverse social relationships of domination. The more libertarian forms (e.g. in Stirner [p. 261] or Thoreau [p. 151]) of this criticism base this argument on an extreme form of individualism that understands any imposition (no matter its source, nature or intention) on the individual as a violation. The more socialist and anarchist forms of this criticism stem from Hegel’s famous account of the master-slave dialect. For Hegel, any social conflict for recognition can descend into a ‘struggle to the death’, which results in a totally empowered master and a dejected slave. For Hegel, the result of this total power imbalance is non-recognition and alienation for both parties. Beyond deep social pathologies, this critical account sees authority as a threat to modern reason. Authority demands unconditional, unquestioning obedience and engenders deference and an abdication of responsibility. Mikhail Bakunin (1970) summed up this point well: ‘Does it follow that I reject all authority? Perish the thought. In the matter of boots, I defer to the authority of the bootmaker … But I allow neither the bootmaker nor the architect nor the “savant” to impose his authority on me … I recognize no infallible authority … Such a faith would be fatal to my reason, to my liberty, and even to the

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success of my undertakings; it would immediately transform me into a stupid slave, the tool of other people’s will and interests.’ Authority, on this account, is the enemy of reason. In contemporary debates, some critics have suggested this outright hostility to authority implicitly informs much of continental and post-structuralist political theory. In ‘What is Enlightenment?’, Foucault reacts to Immanuel Kant’s argument that Enlightenment (modern rational culture) is defined by distinguishing the realm of obedience, which depends on authority, from the public use of reason, which is the right to reason as a member of the human community. In contrast, Foucault posits enlightenment as a radical, critical project of permanently criticizing the power relations that structure political discourses. This is, ‘the principle of a critique and a permanent creation of ourselves in our autonomy: that is a principle that is at the heart of the historical consciousness that the Enlightenment has of itself ’ (Foucault 1984). Bernard Yack has called this totalization of enlightenment reason and seeming rejection of all authority the ‘longing for total revolution’ (1992).

LEGITIMACY The concept of legitimacy is central to the normative dimensions of power and authority. Legitimacy is usually defined as ‘rightfulness’. As such, it is crucial to the distinction between power and authority. Legitimacy is the quality that transforms power as domination into rightful authority; it confers a binding character on a law, institution or government, ensuring that it is obeyed out of moral duty rather than coercion. Clearly, there is a close relationship between legitimacy and authority; the two terms are often used synonymously. However, in political science and theory, authority tends to be a quality ascribed to specific people or offices, whereas legitimacy is ascribed to institutions or political systems in general (e.g. the state). Indeed, much of modern Western political theory amounts to a discussion of when a state can command legitimacy. It is perhaps the central question of modern political thought in the West. This question is so vital because, as noted earlier, in the absence of legitimacy government is sustained by force. As Rousseau (see p. 205, 210) noted in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969), ‘The strongest is never strong enough to be always the master unless he transforms strength into right and obedience into duty.’ Without legitimacy, a state is always at risk. Despite this shared focus on legitimacy and the state, there is considerable variation in political thought surrounding the concept of legitimacy. For some, legitimacy is primarily a normative question of the right standards a state should meet to be legitimate. For others, legitimacy is an explanatory question of how and with what consequences people come to think a state legitimate. Most political philosophers who take normative approaches have focused on identifying a moral or rational basis for legitimacy, demarcating legitimate from illegitimate forms of rule. Aristotle (see p. 101), for instance, argued that rule was legitimate only when it benefitted all political society, the one, the many and the few, rather than the interests of the rulers. Locke, in contrast, argued that the state was legitimate when it maintained individuals’ basic natural rights to life, liberty and property. And Rousseau argued that government was legitimate if it was based on a deliberatively formed ‘general will’, a conception of the common good. All of these are normative standards for legitimacy. In

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

this sense, the normative approach to legitimacy is about setting out a series of conditions for states to be considered legitimate. On the other hand, political thinkers with explanatory and critical approaches have approached legitimacy as an objective phenomenon to be explained. Here, the most influential understanding of legitimacy comes, once again, from Weber. Weber understood legitimacy as a subjective belief in the ‘right to rule’, a belief in legitimacy. In other words, legitimacy is a product of a people’s belief and willingness to comply. However, this is quite limited. In The Legitimation of Power (2013), David Beetham developed a social-scientific concept of legitimacy that goes beyond Weber’s. For Beetham, defining legitimacy as a ‘belief in legitimacy’ ignores how it is created. It ignores how powerful groups may manufacture rightfulness through public relations campaigns (and other mechanisms). He proposed that power is only legitimate in modern states if three conditions are fulfilled: (1) power must be exercised according to established rules, whether embodied in formal legal codes or informal conventions; (2) these rules must be justified in terms of the shared beliefs of the government and the governed; and (3) legitimacy must be demonstrated by the expression of consent on the part of the governed. Beetham argues that legitimacy is a process of achieving a status, the ‘legitimation process’. His conditions, which seem to flow from liberal arguments, contend that legitimacy emerges when power is exercised through the right procedure. Legitimacy thus arises, in a sense, ‘from below’ in modern states. However, radical theorists, particularly those influenced by Marxist thinking (see p. 249), have tended to argue that legitimacy arises ‘from above’; regimes seek to manufacture legitimacy by manipulating what their citizens know, think or believe. In effect, legitimacy may simply be a form of ideological hegemony or dominance. This raises further questions about when, how and why political systems lose their legitimacy and suffer what are called ‘legitimation crises’. A legitimation crisis is particularly serious since it casts doubt on the very survival of the regime or political system: no regime has so far endured permanently through the exercise of coercion alone. This section highlights these various conceptions of legitimacy. It tackles first normative debates in the history of political thought, centred on constitutionalism and consent. Second, it addresses critical accounts of legitimacy as ideological hegemony. Finally, it briefly questions the issue of legitimation crises and new issues for political thinking.

Legitimacy, consent and constitutionalism Liberal and republican theory have offered the most intellectually, popularly and institutionally influential conceptions of political legitimacy in the Western tradition. While these involve diverse debates over several centuries of rich enquiry, they have focused on several key issues – specifically, consent, benefit and public justification. Of these, as we will see, consent has been the dominant way of framing legitimacy. On the other hand, constitutions and constitutionalism have been the dominant framework in political theory addressing how to institutionalize legitimacy. Interestingly, while related to consent, benefit and public justification, constitutionalism is an approach to legitimacy that localizes it within the procedures and rules of a political society. Since the seventeenth century, consent has been the dominant idea of political legitimacy in the West. Consent arose out of social contract theory and the belief that government

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had arises out of a voluntary agreement undertaken by free individuals. Thinkers such as Hobbes, Hugo Grotius and Samuel Pufendorf all used the idea of a contract to highlight this claim. However, with Locke (see p. 217) consent became the case for political legitimacy. In The Two Treatises on Government, he argued ‘no one can be put out of this estate and subjected to the political power of another without his own consent’ ([1690] 1965). Consent, either given tacitly or explicitly, is required for a state to be legitimate. Important here, is his notion of ‘tacit consent’, an implied agreement among citizens to obey the law and respect government (see Chapters 6 and 7 for the associated idea of obligation). That is, for Locke consent as a standard is assumed until it is withdrawn. When citizens reject the legitimacy of the state they withdraw their consent and regain their natural liberty. While this idea has been heavily criticized along many lines (e.g. that most citizens do not or cannot consent to a state), its influence can be seen in constitutionalism below. A key competitor to consent has been utilitarian (see p. 22) arguments for benefit. Conceptions of legitimacy that rely on benefit as a standard suggest that a state and its individual laws are legitimate only when they meet the standard of utility. Utility argues that consequences or outcomes are morally justified only when they maximize happiness, leading to ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest number’. Jeremy Bentham, who rejected social contract theory, claimed a law is legitimate only if it overall benefits all individuals. While again this standard has proven controversial, as it could justify significant limits on individual rights for benefit, it has been deeply influential as it has attempted to offer an objective moral standard for legitimacy outside the beliefs or feelings of individuals (e.g. consent). In other debates, these arguments proved fundamental to theoretical debates around the welfare state and its role in promoting overall well-being (see Chapter 11). The standard of public justification (or ‘public reason’) has been a key inheritor of consent theory and one of the most influential options in late twentieth- and twenty-first-century liberal theory. This view can take a few forms. Theorists such as John Rawls (see p. 283) argue that legitimacy cannot and does not need to rely on actual consent. Rather, a state or law is legitimate if it can be supported with reasons that all reasonable citizens could, in principle, share. The ‘in principle’ point is key. These reasons must avoid controversial premises (say a religious view that is not shared by all citizens), and are thus available to everyone and likely to be the product of a public justification process. This argument, which became central to deliberative democratic theory (see p. 187), and was also articulated by Jürgen Habermas (see p. 209), highlights a key connection to democracy and the work of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau argued that tacit and actual consent is meaningless unless citizens actively participate in processes of discussion that lead to the state (in the first instance) and every law. For him, and many republicans, legitimacy is the product of democratic discussions that lead to a shared or ‘general’ will. Political constitutions have been a central means to establishing popular legitimacy and constitutionalism, the body of intellectual thought on constitutions, has played a central role in both liberal and republican thought (see p. 107). Historically, the demand for constitutional government arose when the earlier claim that legitimacy was based on the will of God – the divine right of kings – was called into question. As a tradition, it can be defined as the argument that legitimate states are limited in scope and action by a constitution which, in its simplest sense, is the rules that govern the government. It is

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

a theory of the limited state. Constitutionalism can therefore be said to exist whenever government institutions and political processes are effectively constrained by a body of rules that juridically explain and define the nature of state structures. They lay out what powers a state has and how it can employ them. Central here is the role of law, which has extreme importance in the constitutional tradition. Law, rather than a person or moral standard, is the source of legitimacy, as being in accordance with law becomes the standard. Constitutions confer legitimacy on regimes by making government a rulebound activity. Constitutional governments therefore exercise legal-rational authority. For example, the idea of the ‘rule of law’ (see Chapter 6), which lays out the superiority of law and the equality of all citizens before the law, is a central constitutional principle. More practically, constitutionalism refers to a set of political values and devices that fragment or ‘diversify’ power, thereby creating a network of checks and balances within government. Examples of such devices include bills of rights, the separation of powers, bicameralism and federalism. However, constitutional systems take a variety of different forms. In most countries, and most (though not all) liberal democracies, so-called ‘written’ or codified constitutions exist. These draw together major constitutional rules in a single authoritative document, ‘the constitution’, which constitutes ‘higher’ or supreme law. In this way, normative approaches to legitimacy have largely focused on offering standards for justifying the legitimacy of modern states (usually in a broadly constitutional, liberal democratic form) such as consent, benefit and public justification. While all these themes are still present, public justification theories of legitimacy have a strong contemporary focus because of their connection to democratic theory (see Chapter 8). The latter has framed liberal and democratic legitimacy as needing to respond to the pluralistic nature of contemporary Western states. Given this intense cultural, social and normative diversity, it has used democratic procedures to offer ways of creating legitimacy in diverse contexts.

Legitimacy as ideological hegemony Despite these normative conceptions of legitimacy, which incidentally do largely justify contemporary liberal democratic states, critical perspectives suggest that constitutionalism is a facade concealing the domination of an elite. For example, neo-Marxists such as Ralph Miliband (1982) argue liberal democracy is a ‘capitalist democracy’, suggesting that within it there are biases which serve the interests of private property and ensure the long-term stability of capitalism. Since the capitalist system is based on unequal class power, Marxists have rejected the claim that the legitimacy of such regimes is based on willing obedience and rational consent. As a result, they have adopted a more critical approach to the concept, one that emphasizes the degree to which legitimacy is produced by ideological manipulation and indoctrination. Many approaches in the social sciences argue that ideological control can be used to maintain stability and build legitimacy. Lukes’s radical view of power, discussed earlier, argued power was just this capacity to manipulate human needs. However, the Marxist contribution is once again definitive, particularly its development and analysis of the concept of ideology. Ideology has had a chequered history, not least because it has had very different meanings. The term was coined by Antoine Destutt de Tracy in 1796 to describe a new ‘science of ideas’. This meaning did not survive long, and the term was only taken up subsequently in the nineteenth century in the writings of Karl Marx (see p. 263).

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For Marx, ‘ideology’ denotes sets of ideas that conceal the contradictions of class-based societies. Ideologies therefore propagate falsehood, delusion and mystification that hide class conflict and interests. In this, they serve a powerful social function, stabilizing and consolidating the class system by naturalizing exploitation. Ideology thus operates in the interests of a ‘ruling class’, which controls the process of intellectual production just as it controls the process of material production. In a capitalist society, for example, the bourgeoisie dominates educational, cultural, intellectual and artistic life and produces a ‘bourgeois ideology’. As Marx and Engels put it in The German Ideology ([1846)] 1970), ‘The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas.’ Importantly, ideology does not preclude contestation. Indeed, twentieth-century Marxists have emphasized that cultural, ideological and political competition exists, while stressing that this competition is unequal. The ideas and views that uphold the capitalist order enjoy a structural advantage over those challenging it. Such indoctrination may, in fact, be far more successful precisely because it operates within the context of formally free speech, open competition and political pluralism. Italian Marxist Antonio Gramsci ([1929–35] 1971) drew attention to the degree to which the class system was upheld by what he termed bourgeois hegemony, the structural dominance of bourgeois ideas in all sociopolitical institutions of the public sphere. This structural dominance misrepresents real social relationships, and the exploitation they are built on, and inhibits the development of class consciousness and the revolutionary potential of the working class. It would remain a ‘class in itself ’ and never become what Marx called a ‘class for itself ’. The concept of hegemony has also been applied to international or world politics, in the form of the idea of ‘global hegemony’ (see p. 94).

THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL HEGEMONY Hegemony, in its simplest sense, is the leadership or domination of one element of a system over others. Gramsci (see p. 250) used the term to refer to the ideological dimension of the bourgeoisie’s domination over subordinate classes. Although the term global hegemony has only been widely used since the 1980s, it may refer to a phenomenon that long predates the contemporary phase of globalization. Global hegemony, nevertheless, is used in at least three different ways. Each of the first two conceptions of global hegemony is state-centric, in that it treats hegemony as an attribute specifically of a state, a ‘hegemon’ being the leading state within a collection of states. Hegemony thus exists when there is but a single great power, the clearest examples being the United

Kingdom in the nineteenth century and the United States since 1945, but especially after 1991, when the fall of the Soviet Union left the United States as the world’s sole superpower. From a realist perspective, hegemony has both malign and benign implications. It is malign in that unipolarity generates structural tensions within the international system, promoting power-seeking behaviour on the part of the hegemon, as well as fear, resentment and hostility among other actors. Hegemony may nevertheless be benign, in that only a dominant military and economic power is able to guarantee stability and prosperity within a liberal world economy. By contrast, radical theorists such as Noam Chomsky (2003) have viewed global hegemony in entirely negative terms, arguing that the more powerful the state, the greater will be its tendency towards tyranny and oppression. Such an analysis has

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

often focused on the dangers represented by the ‘American empire’, which, through the growth of corporate power and the spread of neocolonialism, as well as by large- and smallscale military intervention, has extended its influence across the globe. The United States has thus been portrayed as a ‘rogue superpower’. The third model of global hegemony emerged out of neo-Marxist theory, and draws significantly on Gramscian thinking. It differs from the state-centric model in two respects. First, it treats hegemony not as an attribute of a state, but as a feature of the global capitalist

system. As such, it is more concerned with the process of economic exploitation and the dynamics of the global class system than it is with the politico-military dominance of a single state (Cox 1987). Second, global hegemony highlights the interplay in international affairs between economic, political, military and ideological forces. In the neo-Marxist view, global hegemony largely operates through the near-worldwide ascendancy of neoliberal economic thinking, which helps to legitimize the global capitalist system (see p. 256) and the structural injustices and inequalities that flow from it.

Louis Althusser significantly developed the Marxist idea of ideology, bringing it into midtwentieth-century French debates, in his notion of ‘ideological interpolation’. In ‘Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses’ ([1970] 2020), he asked how capitalist ideology participated in forming individuals as individuals. The radical idea is that capitalist social relations and ideology might be part of creating particular sorts of individuals, or ‘subjects’, conditioned to think and act in certain ways. Althusser argued that key to capitalist domination was its ability to maintain itself by creating types of people who understand their role in the social structure to be natural. Ideology is our background assumptions about how the world works, how we exist in it, and what is possible. It is institutionalized through ideological state apparatuses such as the family, religious associations, churches, local groups, etc. With Althusser we get an image of ideological penetration that goes deep into individuals’ thinking and behaviour. The concept of ideology has radical implications for any notion of legitimacy since it implies that individuals cannot be regarded simply as independent and rational actors, capable of distinguishing legitimate from non-legitimate rule. In short, legitimacy is always a result of socio-economic, political and wider intellectual structures. The significance of this way of framing legitimacy cannot be overemphasized. As David Leopold has argued, the notion of ideology uniquely embodies the explanatory and normative aims of radical, critical thought (Leopold and Stears 2008). On the explanatory side, it attempts to identify the social forces obstructing and preventing an understanding of contemporary power. On the normative side, it seeks to ‘cure’ or remove that obstruction through its identification. The power of this approach to legitimacy is the capacity it offers to critique, challenge and rethink existing legitimacy. Currently, critical approaches to legitimacy in political theory are contested. As discussed, this tradition has depended on understanding legitimacy as a product of structural obfuscation. However, the concept of ideology has received significant internal and external criticisms in the twentieth century, focused on similar issues to Lukes’s third dimension of power. These criticisms had several effects. First, they led to what we might call ‘non-critical’ approaches to ideology, which understand them, not as obfuscations of social reality, but as webs of political concepts necessary to organizing complex political

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behaviour and contexts. Associated with the work of Clifford Geertz and Michael Freeden, these frame ideologies as necessary and ubiquitous ideational frameworks required for political action. Second, critical, primarily Marxist, approaches have been challenged through two developments inside that tradition. On the one hand, the move in the Frankfurt School of Critical Theory to Habermas’s model of communicative action and democratic legitimacy brought critical theorists much closer to liberal emphases on the procedural virtues of democratic institutions. Habermas himself rejected the idea of ideology in his early work. On the other hand, the shift in some continental Marxist thought away from Althusser’s model of ideology to post-Marxist conceptions of discourse brought Foucauldian (fourth dimension) understandings of power, not as preference manipulation but productive constitution, into critical traditions. The latter, also rejecting ideology as depending on an objective claims to truth, has framed legitimacy in quasi-democratic terms. Post-Marxists such as Ernesto Laclau and Chantal Mouffe (1985) focus on the capacity for contestation and pluralism within a democratic context as legitimizing. Once again, this seems to bring the concept of legitimacy closer, rather than further away, to liberal understandings.

CONCLUSION As we have seen, understandings of power in political science and thought have focused on how to conceive and measure power. The one- and two-dimensional understandings of power that dominated Anglo-American political science are simple understandings of power that can be opertationalized in empirical study. These have produced conceptualizations of power as relational forms of domination, where one actor controls another to pursue certain ends, either to enact a certain decision (decision-making) or control the background decision-making process (agenda-setting). These approaches have largely been reflected in the major assumptions of normative political theory in the modern and contemporary periods, especially that in the dominant liberal tradition. On this view, power is coercive and localized in formal institutions. In this way, power as a concept is more assumed than investigated by political theorists, the main exception being critical and post-structuralist thinkers’ use of the third (preference manipulation) and fourth (productive) dimensions of power. Debates around authority have repeated this model. Typologies of authority, particularly Weber’s, have been deeply influential in understanding how authority, as the normative dimension of power, occurs in contemporary liberal democracies. However, justifications of authority occupy a key concern for political theorists who have focused on assessing relationships of authority to determine when, if ever, they are justified. Authority as only justified when limited, necessary for human flourishing and necessarily oppressive dominated these debates. All of this is key context for legitimacy, which, perhaps more than the other two, is key to contemporary debates. As ever, there is a significant division between normative and critical approaches, though also surprising convergence on the value of democracy. Whether legitimacy is conferred by consent or manufactured by ideology, it is essential for the maintenance of any system of political rule. In this sense, the concept has proven of fundamental importance for contemporary political theory, and its considerations of the problem of power.

The Problem of Power: Authority and Legitimacy

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS MAX WEBER’S THE PROFESSION AND POLITICS AS A VOCATION ([1919] 1948) Max Weber’s The Profession and Politics as a Vocation ([1919] 1948) (often translated simply as The Vocation of Politics or Politics as a Vocation) is Weber’s most well-known contribution to political science and theory. Its original form was as the second in a set of lectures Weber gave to the ‘Free Students Union’ of Bavaria. The first lecture is his equally influential Science as a Vocation on the social-scientific enterprise. It is important to note two things about the lecture: it occurred in the immediate aftermath of the German loss of the First World War, when deep political instability and a variety of contending ideological and political forces were running rampant in the country, and Weber at the time was perhaps the most well-known living German political thinker. The lasting significance of Weber’s essay for political theory (as well as the social sciences generally) cannot be overstated. It deals with some of the largest and most foundational questions in the discipline, and continues to be returned to for these discussions. These include the nature of politics, the institution of the state, the activity of politicians, and the concepts of authority and legitimacy. Perhaps most well known though is his famous definition of the state as ‘a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory’. As discussed in this chapter, this exposes the fundamental relation between normative and empirical aspects of political power and authority in modern institutions and thought.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘What do we understand by politics? The concept is extremely broad and comprises any kind of independent leadership in action … We wish to understand by politics only the leadership, or the influencing of the leadership, of a political association, hence today, of a state.’ 2. ‘Today, however, we have to say that a state is a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory.’ 3. ‘Like the political institutions historically preceding it, the state is a relation of men dominating men, a relation supported by means of legitimate (i.e. considered to be legitimate) violence. If the state is to exist, the dominated must obey the authority claimed by the powers that be. When and why do men obey? Upon what inner justifications and upon what external means does this domination rest?’ 4. ‘I state only the purely conceptual aspect for our consideration: the modern state is a compulsory association which organizes domination. It has been successful in seeking to monopolize the legitimate use of physical force as a means of domination within a territory. To this end the state has combined the material means of organization in the hands of its leaders, and it has expropriated all autonomous functionaries of estates who formerly controlled these means in their own right.’

Reading questions 1. How does Weber define politics? What is he including and what is he excluding? 2. What is the nature of the state for Weber? 3. How does the nature of politics and the definition of the state lead to a set of leadership models for Weber?

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QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What are the limitations of the view of

power as the ability to affect decisionmaking? yy Why does power as non-decision-making have elitist implications? yy What is the difference between the third and fourth faces of power? yy How does authority differ from power?

yy What is the relation between differing types of authority and contemporary states?

yy On what grounds has authority been defended?

yy How has legitimacy been construed? yy Why and how has legitimacy been linked to constitutionalism?

yy Does legitimacy serve the interests of the rulers rather than the ruled?

FURTHER READING Beetham, D. The Legitimation of Power (2013). A comprehensive and influential introduction to the concept of legitimacy as applied to political systems, which now also considers the issue of legitimacy beyond the state. Furedi, F. Authority: A Sociological History (2013). A study of the notion of authority throughout the history of social and political thought, which examines successive (and always contested) attempts to establish foundations for authority.

Hearn, J. Theorizing Power (2012). A clear and critical evaluation of how power is defined, conceptualized and theorized, which highlights the significance of power across all areas of social life, including gender, religion, morality and identity. Lukes, S. Power: A Radical View ([1975] 2004). In this expanded version of a classic text on power, the author reconsiders his threedimensional theory of power in the light of recent debates and criticisms of his original argument.

CHAPTER 5

THE PROBLEM OF POLITICS: THE STATE AND  SOVEREIGNTY Introduction99 Politics100 •• Politics as government 101 •• Public affairs 105 •• Power and conflict 108 The State 110 •• From government to the state 111 •• Theories of the state: Classical and twentieth century112 •• Global forms of the state 118 Sovereignty120 •• Legal and political sovereignty120 •• Internal and external sovereignty122

INTRODUCTION One of the most profound debates in any academic discipline is inevitably over defining its central term. In the social sciences and humanities, this tendency is exacerbated by the essential contestability of concepts and the way in which enquiry crosses over descriptive, normative and critical approaches. ‘History’, ‘economics’, ‘society’ and, indeed, ‘politics’ are all deeply contested. Though central to their disciplines (and others), debates are fractured by fundamentally different understandings of the object of enquiries (i.e. its nature) and what we can know about it (i.e. knowledge).

These tensions characterize the concept of politics, central to political thought and science. There is significant disagreement over politics in two senses. First, thinkers Conclusion125 disagree over the nature, or essence, of politics. This is a question of its fundamental dynamics. Is politics an activity defined by the seeking of agreement or cooperation? Or is it the expression of power and dominance? Is politics a corrupting activity, to be confined to the necessary? Or is it an ennobling one? Second, thinkers disagree over the extent of politics, or the domain 99

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of ‘the political’. Political scientists and thinkers must decide where politics ends; what is the non-political? For example, is politics confined to what goes on within the state, or does it occur in all areas of shared life? Does politics, in other words, take place within families, schools, colleges and in the workplace? These debates have tended to be characterized by a continual expansion of the concept of politics. The attempt to define politics has involved several other key political concepts: government, the state and sovereignty. One cannot overemphasize their centrality to the modern tradition. Modern conceptions of politics have tended to emphasis government as the central activity of politics. While the concept of government has been contested (as necessary or not, oppressive or enabling), it has generally meant that the institution understood to be the locus of government, the state, has been the central institutional preoccupation of scholars of politics. While similarly the subject of disagreement, the state is perhaps the central preoccupation of modern political thought and its unique attribute, sovereignty, thus has an equally central place in debates about politics. As we will see, many of the debates around politics coming into the contemporary phase of Western political thought stem from this linking of the idea of politics to the idea of the state as the sovereign expression of political power.

POLITICS The concept of politics has been contested around both its essence and extent. In terms of the former essence question, politics has been portrayed as the exercise of power or authority, as a process of collective decision-making, as the allocation of scarce resources and as a procedure of negotiation between diverse interests or groups (amongst others). In terms of the extent question, politics has often been confined to the political institutions of government, or extended to all wider spheres where formal leadership or power relations occur. These two dimensions are not mutually exclusive (i.e. definitions of politics employ both) but many views prioritize one or the other of these dimensions when defining politics. For example, Adrian Leftwich has argued in What is Politics? (2004) that most definitions fall into either an ‘arena’ or ‘process’ view of politics. They either portray politics in its essence as a process or set of relations that occur between actors and groups, and so in principle can occur anywhere in social life, or as an arena, a confined sphere within social life with some sort of border (e.g. the state), where the political is different from the social or economic. For brevity we focus on the major contending conceptions of politics in the modern tradition. First, politics has long been associated with the formal institutions of government and the activities that take place therein. Second, politics is commonly linked to public life and public activities, in contrast to what is private or personal. Together these two conceptions are the dominant thematics of politics in the modern Western tradition. Third, since the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, politics has been related to the distribution of power, wealth and resources, something that takes place within all institutions in social existence. All of these, which are not necessarily mutually exclusive but often complementary emphases, have characterized a variety of theories of politics and strongly overlap with our common-sense uses of the term.

The Problem of Politics: The State and Sovereignty

Politics as government Otto von Bismarck declared that ‘politics is not a science … but an art’. The art in question was the art of government, the exercise of control within society through the making and enforcement of collective decisions. This is perhaps the most traditional and dominant definition of politics in the Western tradition. Unsurprisingly, it is also the common-sense use of the term: politics concerns the institutions of government and those who work in them. This understanding of politics sees it as coextensive with the state and the formal administration of society. It is associated with ‘policy’: formal or authoritative decisions that establish a plan of action for the community. Moreover, it takes place within a ‘polity’: a system of social organization centred on the machinery of government. This is a narrow definition. Politics, in this sense, is confined to governmental institutions: it takes place in cabinet rooms, legislative chambers, government departments and the like, and involves limited groups of people, notably politicians, civil servants and lobbyists. Most people, most institutions and most social activities end up ‘outside’ politics. One of the earliest sources of this conception of politics is Aristotle’s classification of government. In his view, governments can be categorized based on ‘Who rules?’ and ‘Who benefits from rule?’ Government can be of the one (individual), the few or the many. In each case, however, government can be conducted either in the selfish interests of the rulers or for the benefit of the community. As a result, Aristotle identified six forms. Tyranny, oligarchy and democracy are all debased forms of rule in which, respectively, a single person, a small group and the masses govern in their own interests. By contrast, monarchy, aristocracy and polity are preferred because the single person, small group or the masses govern in the interests of all. Instead of preferring any one form of the latter, he advocated a ‘mixed’ constitution that would leave government in the hands of the ‘middle classes’, those who are neither rich nor poor.

THINKER ARISTOTLE (384–322 BCE) Classical Greek philosopher and political thinker. Aristotle was a student of Plato and the tutor of the young Alexander the Great. He established his own school of philosophy in Athens in 335 BCE. Aristotle’s twenty-two surviving treatises were compiled as lecture notes and range over logic, physics, metaphysics, astronomy, meteorology, biology, ethics and politics. His best-known political work is Politics (2000), a comprehensive study of the nature of political life and the forms it may take. In describing politics as the ‘master science’, he emphasized that it is in the public, not private, domain that human beings strive for justice and live the ‘good life’. Aristotle’s taxonomy of government led him to prefer those that aim at the common good over those that benefit sectional interests, and to recommend a mixture of democracy and oligarchy, in the form of what he called polity. The communitarianism (see p. 57) of Politics, in which the citizen is portrayed as strictly part of the political community, is qualified by an insistence on choice and autonomy in works such as Nicomachean Ethics. In the Middle Ages, Aristotle’s work became the foundation of Islamic philosophy, and it was later incorporated into Christian theology.

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However, the focus on politics as the formal institutions of government is a mainly modern idea in the Western tradition. It emerges out of late medieval debates around the appropriate distribution of duties between the secular (i.e. political) and religious realms, evolving into two distinct debates: theoretical-empirical attempts to understand politics as a distinctively autonomous activity from other spheres, and normative debates around the appropriate purview of the state (especially in contrast to the individual). The modern attempt to understand the autonomous nature of politics is often associated with the work of Niccolò Machiavelli. In The Prince ([1531] 1961), Machiavelli developed a realistic and empirical account of politics as the pursuit and exercise of power, devoid of religious and moral content. Writing in the tradition of ‘Mirror for Princes’, he balked at many of the conventions of this prominent genre, which reflected on the principles of leadership: the conduct of rulers and the appropriate bounds of secular power. It often used the method of describing an ideal ruler or society, was deeply moral in tone and method, and overtly related to Christian theology. Machiavelli completely shirked this project, rejecting the idea that a prince (ruler) should be guided by Christian moral ideals. Rather, religion is portrayed instrumentally as something a prince can use to the end of political stability. Many commentators have pointed out that Machiavelli portrays his approach in both quasi-empirical and quasi-realist terms. This point can be overstated and has been. Machiavelli is no political scientist. He mixes his arguments with normative prescriptions and outright prejudice. That said, he clearly saw himself as innovating. Consider: Since my intention is to say something that will prove of practical use to the inquirer, I have thought it proper to represent things as they are in real truth, rather than as they are imagined. Many have dreamed up republics and principalities which have never in truth been known to exist; the gulf between how one should live and how one does live is so wide that a man who neglects what is actually done for what should be done learns the way to self-destruction rather than self-preservation. (Machiavelli [1531] 1961) As a result, Machiavelli turns to forms of knowledge he considers a stronger basis. His arguments are rooted in: deep historical accounts of recent and classical politics, a complex argument about human psychology and a theoretical argument about the primacy of the good of security in politics (over other goods). While this series of topics is complex, it notably leads to an amoral conception of politics as leadership that is subject to a distinct form of rationality and morality that justifies the explicit use of ‘force and fraud’. Politics, different from other spheres, is about leading and providing stability. Max Weber’s essay ‘Politics as a Vocation’ ([1919] 1948) is arguably the central articulation of this institutional conception of politics. Importantly, it develops this by linking an analysis of politics, with reflections on political leadership and the role of violence in the use of political power, with an account of the state. Politics for Weber is ‘the leadership, or the influencing of the leadership, of a political association, hence today, of a state’. Politics is about leadership and direction of political association. As discussed in Chapter 4, and developed below in the discussion of the state, Weber famously saw the state as defined by its unique ability to use legitimate force. That is, in modern political life only the state can deploy a form of violence with authority. Politics is the activity that directs and controls this force and institution. As a result, Weber was deeply interested in the

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forms of leadership that tended to occur in modern states and in how leaders related to the rationalized bureaucratic structures that define modern states. In the twentieth century, Weber and others’ focus on politics as institutionalized leadership deeply connected the concepts of government and state, and led to a considerable institutional focus in Anglo-American political thought and science. In the latter, the dominant schools of institutionalism, elite theory, pluralism and (more recently) neoinstitutionalism have carried on this largely descriptive tradition defined by the attempt to take a dispassionate view of politics. Key here is the focused and narrow conception that limited politics to formal institutions and the activity of those that direct them. In modern political thought, normative approaches to political theory have similarly focused on government as the defining activity of politics. However, rather than examining what government is, their concern has been justifying or criticizing government as an appropriate locus of political power. Normative approaches have been concerned to delineate under what conditions government is justified, while more critical approaches have focused on why government, as an activity, is oppressive. The classic argument in favour of government is found in social contract theories (see p. 47), first proposed by seventeenth-century philosophers such as Thomas Hobbes (see p. 73) and John Locke (see p. 217). In Leviathan ([1651] 1968), Hobbes argued that rational human beings were obliged to obey their government because without it society would descend into a civil war ‘of every man against every man’. Social contract theorists develop their argument with reference to a hypothetical situation without government, a ‘state of nature’. Hobbes described life in the state of nature as being ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. In his view, human beings were essentially power-seeking and fearful creatures, who would, if unrestrained by law, seek to advance their own interests at the expense of fellow humans. Even the strongest would never be strong enough to live in security and without fear: the weak would unite against them before turning on one another. Quite simply, without government to restrain desire, stability would be impossible. Hobbes suggested that, recognizing this, rational individuals would seek to escape from chaos and disorder by entering into an agreement with one another, a ‘social contract’, through which a system of government (i.e. leadership) could be established. Thus, for him, government is a necessary defence against insecurity and conflict, which humans are prone to given their existential situation. Importantly, while many other social contract theorists disagree with the details, they do tend to argue with Hobbes that given human nature, and given the nature of government (as centralized leadership), the latter is necessary to provide the goods of stability and freedom. An alternative tradition exists, however, which justifies government as the means of promoting political goods. This can be seen in the writings of Aristotle, whose philosophy had a profound effect on medieval theologians such as Thomas Aquinas (see p. 133). In ‘The Treatise of Law’, part of Summa Theologiae ([1265] 1963), Aquinas portrayed the state as the ‘perfect community’ and argued that the proper effect of law was to make its subjects good. He was clear, for instance, that government and law would be necessary for human beings even in the absence of original sin. This benign view of government as an instrument that enables people to cooperate for mutual benefit has continued in modern politics in the social democratic tradition (see p. 194). It also arises in the work of Hegel, and the development of ethical views of the state (discussed in this chapter), and in the welfare state tradition (Chapter 10).

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THINKER NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI (1469–1527) Italian statesman and author. The son of a civil lawyer, Machiavelli’s knowledge of public life was gained from a precarious existence in politically unstable Florence. He served as Second Chancellor, 1498–1512, and was dispatched on missions to France, Germany and throughout Italy. After a brief period of imprisonment and the restoration of Medici rule, Machiavelli embarked on a literary career. Machiavelli’s major work, The Prince, written in 1513 and published in 1531, was intended to provide guidance for the ruler of a future united Italy, and drew heavily on his first-hand observations of the statecraft of Cesare Borgia and the power politics that dominated his period. His ‘scientific method’ portrayed politics in strictly realistic terms and highlighted the use by the political leaders of a variety of political strategies, including cunning, cruelty and manipulation. This emphasis, and attacks on him that led to his excommunication, meant that the term ‘Machiavellian’ subsequently came to mean scheming and duplicitous in European public culture. His Discourses ([1531] 2008), written in 1513–17 and published in 1531, provides a fuller account of Machiavelli’s political republicanism. For many years scholars have struggled to reconcile the two. Largely now they are seen as part of Machiavelli’s pragmatic approach to politics: at different times, republicanism and strong leadership may be required.

Critical accounts of government in the modern tradition tend to focus on its essentially oppressive nature. In the anarchist view government and all forms of political authority are not only evil but also unnecessary. They argue this against the social contract tradition, with its emphasis on rivalry, competition and open conflict, instead stressing the capacity for rational understanding, compassion and cooperation. As William Godwin, whose An Enquiry Concerning Political Justice ([1793] 1976) gave the first clear statement of anarchist principles, declared, ‘Man is perfectible, or in other words susceptible of perpetual improvement.’ In the state of nature a ‘natural’ order will therefore prevail, making a ‘political’ order quite unnecessary. Social harmony will spontaneously develop as individuals recognize their common interests bind them more strongly than selfish interests that divide them. Disagreements can be resolved peacefully through rational discussion. Indeed, for anarchists government is not a safeguard against disorder, but the cause of conflict. By ruling from above, government represses freedom, breeding resentment and promoting inequality. Anarchists have often supported their arguments with historical examples, such as the medieval city states revered by Peter Kropotkin (see p. 51) or the Russian peasant communes admired by Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910). In these, social order was supposedly maintained by rational agreement and mutual sympathy. They also looked to traditional societies in which stability exists despite the absence government. Similarly, they point towards the development of certain institutional harmonies, such as the modern rail system in Europe, which seemingly developed in the absence of top-down leadership. In this way, their arguments stem from a different set of views of human nature and a different set of historical examples than social contract theorists.

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The conception of politics as government is thus central to modern and contemporary political thought. On its descriptive side, it has produced an institutional account of politics that dominates empirical debates and the everyday understanding of politics. Normative and critical debates, on the other hand, have focused more on justifying or criticizing top-down government to outline theories of human nature, the state and political life.

Public affairs The second, broader conception of politics focuses on ‘public life’ or ‘public affairs’. In other words, the arena of politics is an essentially public sphere of life separated from a private. The usual source for this view is Ancient Greece. The English word ‘politics’ is derived from polis, which literally means city state. Ancient Greece was divided into a collection of independent city states, each of which possessed its own political system. The largest and most influential of these was Athens, often portrayed as the model of classical democracy. Athenian politics contained a robust public sphere and a high degree of political participation amongst citizens (though that status excluded the overwhelming majority – women, slaves and foreign residents). Aristotle’s (see p. 101) Politics, written between 335 and 323 BCE, is one of the most influential accounts of this public sphere. He argued that ‘Man is by nature a political animal’, it is only within a political community of broad public participation that human beings can live ‘the good life’. Politics is therefore the ‘master science’, an ethical activity aimed at creating a ‘just society’. According to this view, politics occurs within ‘public’ bodies such as government itself and the broad public forums citizens engage. Politics as the public assumes, on the other hand, a non-political (private) domain. Politics does not take place within the ‘private’ domain of, say, economic activity, the home, family life and personal relationships. The traditional distinction between the public and private realms established in the Greek conception (and deeply influential in modern life) broadly conforms to the division between state and society. The state is in the final section of this chapter. Presently, it can be defined as a political association that exercises sovereign power within a defined territorial area. In everyday language, the state refers to a cluster of institutions, centring on the apparatus of government but also including the judiciary, the police, the army, nationalized industries, the social security system and so forth. These institutions can be viewed as ‘public’ as they are responsible for the collective organization of community life and are thus funded at the public’s expense. By contrast, society consists of autonomous groups and associations, embracing family and kinship groups, private businesses, trade unions, clubs, community groups, etc. Such institutions are ‘private’ in that they are administered by individual citizens to satisfy their own projects rather than larger society’s. Based on this ‘public/private’ dichotomy, politics is restricted to the activities of the state itself and the responsibilities exercised by public bodies. Those areas of life in which individuals self-organize – economic, social, domestic, personal, cultural, artistic and so forth – are ‘non-political’ on this usage. In political thought the public-private divide can also refer to a subtle distinction between ‘the political’ and ‘the personal’. Although society can be distinguished from the state, it nevertheless contains a range of institutions that may be ‘public’ in

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that they are open, operating amongst individuals and groups to which the public has access. This encouraged thinkers such as Hegel (see p. 18), for example, to use the more specific term, ‘civil society’, to refer to an intermediate socio-economic realm, distinct from the state on one hand and the family on the other. While the term has been employed in quite different ways, it is characterized by delineating a sphere beneath the state but which is also different from individual, personal or family life. For example, for many thinkers, by comparison with domestic life, things like private businesses and trade unions have a public character. The idea of civil society identifies a realm of group life that, while outside the formal character of the state, is deeply relevant to politics and so is political. Importantly, the public-private division and associated concepts such as civil society have generated significant debate in the Western tradition as they require drawing an exact line between ‘public’ and ‘private’, and justifying it. The stakes here are high. Whatever is public is subject to authority. Whatever is private, usually, is not. The public-private divide has been important for both conservative and liberal thinkers. Conservatives such as Michael Oakeshott (see p. 142) argued that politics be regarded as a limited activity, focused on the maintenance of order and the regulation of public life. In Rationalism in Politics ([1962] 1991), Oakeshott advanced an essentially non-political view of human nature, which emphasizes that most people are security-seeking, cautious and dependent creatures. From this perspective, the inner core of human existence is a ‘private’ world of family, home, domesticity and personal relationships. For Oakeshott, political life is inhospitable, even intimidating. For many liberal theorists, the maintenance of the publicprivate distinction is vital to the preservation of individual liberty, typically understood as a form of privacy or non-interference. If politics is an essentially ‘public’ activity, centred on the state, it always has a coercive character: the state has the power to compel obedience. On the other hand, ‘private’ life is a voluntary realm of choice, freedom and individual responsibility. Liberals therefore have a clear preference for society over the state, for ‘the private’ over ‘the public’, and fear the encroachment of politics on the individual. Not all political thinkers have had such a clear preference for society. Republicans (p. 107) and modern liberals (p. 280) often portray politics and the ‘public’ as the realm of freedom and collective fulfilment. Dating back to Aristotle, this tradition has persisted in writers such as Hannah Arendt (see p. 89). In The Human Condition (1958) Arendt placed ‘action’ above both ‘labour’ and ‘work’ in a hierarchy of worldly activities. She argued that politics is the most important form of human activity because it involves interaction among free and equal citizens, and so gives meaning to life and affirms the uniqueness of individuals. Advocates of participatory democracy have also portrayed politics as a moral, healthy and even noble activity. For Jean-Jacques Rousseau (see p. 205), political participation is essential for freedom and autonomy. Only through the direct and continuous participation of all citizens in political life can the state pursue the common good, or what Rousseau called the ‘general will’. John Stuart Mill (see p. 168), in a liberal vein, argued that political participation and involvement in ‘public’ affairs is educational, promoting the personal, moral and intellectual development of the individual. Rather than inhibiting individual freedom, political activity is the condition of social development and collective autonomy.

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TRADITION:  Republicanism Republican political thought is often traced back to the ancient Roman Republic and Cicero’s defence of mixed government developed in The Republic. That said, there are elements of this position in Aristotle’s Politics as well. The tradition began to take its modern form in Renaissance Italy as a model for the organization of Italian city states that aimed to balance civic freedom and political stability. Further forms of republicanism surrounded the English, American and French revolutions. Although republican ideas were subsequently overshadowed by the dominance of liberal theory, and the emphasis on freedom as noninterference, there has been growing interest in political theory in ‘civic republicanism’ since the 1960s, particularly amongst thinkers influenced by communitarian (see p. 57) and neo-republican thought. Republicanism is fundamentally anti-monarchy. However, the term republic suggests not merely the absence of a monarch but, in the light of its Latin root res publica, that the people (populus, giving the adjective publicus) should in some way control the public realm. The central theme of republican political theory is a concern with freedom. In the view of Philip Pettit (1999), republican freedom, or ‘freedom as nondomination’, combines liberty in the sense of protection against arbitrary or tyrannical government with full and active participation in public and political life. Republican thinkers have discussed this view of freedom in relation to either moral precepts or constitutional structures. In moral theory republicanism is committed to civic virtue, which includes public-spiritedness, honour and patriotism. Above all, it stresses public over private activity. Republicanism’s constitutional focus has shifted its emphasis over time. Whereas classical republicanism was associated with a mixed constitution, which combined monarchical, aristocratic and democratic elements, the American and French Revolutions applied republicanism to whole nations and considered the implications of modern democratic government.

In modern political thought, republican theory has offered one of the most significant alternatives to individualistic liberalism. In espousing a form of civic humanism, it attempts to re-establish the public domain as the source of personal fulfilment, and resists the marketization of politics as encouraged by classical liberal theory (see p. 37). Critics have argued it subscribes to an essentially ‘positive’ theory of freedom (which is the characteristic position of ‘civic republicanism’), or a problematic attempt to straddle the ‘negative/positive’ freedom divide. Politically, republicanism has influenced a wide variety of political forms, including ‘Westminster-style’ parliamentary government within a constitutional monarchy; the overtly republican democracy of the French model; and the divided government of the US model, which incorporates the principles of federalism, bicameralism and the separation of powers. Key figures Charles-Louis de Secondat Montesquieu (1689–1755)   A French political philosopher, Montesquieu championed a form of parliamentary liberalism based on the writings of Locke (see p. 217) and, to some extent, a reading of English political experience. Montesquieu’s masterpiece, The Spirit of Laws ([1750] 1989), is an extended examination of legal and political issues, which famously argues for fragmenting government power through the separation of powers, to create a balance between the legislature, the executive and the judiciary. Thomas Paine (1737–1809)  A Britishborn writer and revolutionary, Paine was a fierce opponent of the monarchical system and a fervent supporter of republican politics. He developed a radical strand within liberal thought that fused individual rights with popular sovereignty. Paine’s most important writings include Common Sense (1776), The Rights of Man (1791–2) and Age of Reason (1794).

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Benjamin Constant (1767–1830)  A French politician and writer, Constant is best known for his defence of constitutionalism and his analysis of liberty. He distinguished between the ‘liberty of the ancients’ and the ‘liberty of the moderns’, identifying the former with the ideas of direct participation and self-government, and the

latter with non-interference and private rights. Constant’s main work is Principles of Politics (1815). See also Niccolò Machiavelli (p. 104, 125), James Madison (p. 197), Hannah Arendt (p. 89) and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (p. 205).

Some accounts of politics as the public stem from a different normative account of the state as an ideal form of community. Key here is Hegel who portrayed the state as an ethical idea, morally superior to civil society. In the Philosophy of Right ([1821] 1942), he argues that the state, as a form of political association, is the culmination of centuries of cognitive and social development. Built on the wide inclusion of all citizens, it a ‘universal’ form of political community that governs in a general interest, rather than the particular interest of some group. In contrast, civil society is dominated by narrow self-interest. Although such thinking helped to encourage modern liberals such as T. H. Green (see p. 280) and other welfare state theorists to adopt a more expansive set of social roles for the state, it has also been criticized as justifying a ‘totalitarian’ state. For example, it seems to flow into the conception of the state held by fascists such as Benito Mussolini (who used the work of the Italian idealist philosopher Giovanni Gentile [1875–1944]). Mussolini is often famously quoted as having said: ‘Everything for the state, nothing against the state, nothing outside the state’. This sought nothing less than the ‘politicization’ of every aspect of social existence, literally the abolition of ‘the private’.

Power and conflict Both previous conceptions of politics are arena conceptions that see it as intrinsically related to a particular set of institutions or place in the social world. The third definition of politics regards it as a distinctive form of social activity or process, which pervades every aspect of human existence. In this, it is the broadest conception of politics. As Leftwich (2004) insists, ‘politics is at the heart of all collective social activity, formal and informal, public and private, in all human groups, institutions and societies’. For one particularly influential version of this account, this notion of ‘the political’ is linked to the production, distribution and use of resources. Politics thus arises out of the existence of scarcity, out of the simple fact that while human needs and desires are infinite, the resources available to satisfy them are limited. It therefore comprises any activity involving conflict about resource allocation. Harold Lasswell neatly summed up this aspect of politics in the title of his book Politics: Who Gets What, When, How? ([1936] 1958). This view is common to thinkers as diverse as Hobbes and Leftwich, though the source of conflict for this view of politics need not be resources. For example, for the German legal theorist Carl Schmitt (1888–1985), politics reflects an immutable reality of human existence: the distinction between friend and enemy. This distinction is constitutive of political life, which is built on the premise that we belong to groups, and those groups have potentially hostile relations. This view has become central to late twentieth- and twenty-first-century radical and agonistic theories (see p. 187) of democracy.

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The implications of this view of politics are significant. Politics is no longer confined to rational debate and peaceful conciliation, but can also encompass conflict, domination and violence. This is summed up in Clausewitz’s famous dictum, ‘War is nothing more than the continuation of politics by other means’ ([1831] 1976). In essence, politics is power, the domination of some by others, through whatever means. Such a conception of politics has been advanced by a variety of theorists, including Marxists, feminists and post-structuralists. In the Marxist view, politics is part of the ‘superstructure’, distinct from the economic ‘base’, which is the real foundation of social life. However, Marx (see p. 263) did not see the economic base and the political and legal superstructure as discrete entities, but believed that the superstructure ‘dialectally’ arose out of, and reflected, the economic base. Political power is rooted in the class system, or, as Lenin ([1917] 1973) (see p. 250) put it, ‘politics is the most concentrated expression of economics’. Far from believing that politics is confined to the state and a narrow public sphere, Marxists may be said to hold that ‘the economic is political’: that there is no real separation of the economic, political and, indeed, social spheres. Civil society is based on a system of class antagonism that is at the very heart of politics. And as a result is a deeply conflictual sphere where class antagonisms manifest as conflict. However, Marx did not think that politics (as conflict) is an inevitable feature of social existence and he looked towards an end of politics. This would occur once a classless, communist society came into existence, leaving no scope for class conflict, and no scope for politics. Feminist thinkers have focused significantly on the nature of politics. Whereas nineteenth-century feminists accepted an essentially liberal conception of politics as ‘public’ affairs, twentieth-century feminists have questioned the boundaries of ‘the political’. In this, they have argued for extending the politics to include any form of power over women. Conventional definitions of politics, in effect, exclude women by obscuring their domination in ‘non-political spheres’. Women have traditionally been confined to a ‘private’ existence, centred on the family and domestic responsibilities; men, by contrast, have controlled conventional politics, other areas of ‘public’ life and civil society. Feminists have therefore attacked the ‘public/private’ dichotomy, proclaiming instead the slogan ‘the personal is the political’. Although this slogan initially provoked considerable controversy, it now summarizes the widely accepted view domestic, family and personal life is political insofar as it involves power relations between men and women. This is a more radical notion of politics, defined by Kate Millett in Sexual Politics ([1970] 1990) as ‘power-structured relationships, arrangements whereby one group of persons is controlled by another’. Politics therefore takes place whenever and wherever power is unequally distributed. From this broader viewpoint, it is possible to talk about ‘the politics of everyday life’, suggesting that relationships within the family, between husbands and wives or between parents and children, are political. It enables one of the more contentious feminist concepts, the ‘patriarchy’, the idea of a systematic form of male domination in Western (and potentially global) society (see Chapter 12). One way this broadening of politics has been tied back to the traditional notion of politics is through expanding the category of government. Here, post-structuralist theorists inspired by Foucault have been particularly prominent. In Security, Territory, Population ([1977–8] 2010) and The Birth of Biopolitics ([1978–9] 2010) Foucault offers

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a dramatic reconceptualization of government that rethinks it as the distinctively modern form of state power. Government concerns the way in which the actions and behaviours of individuals are constrained and limited by states. ‘To govern, in this sense, is to structure the possible field of action of others’ (Foucault 2010). States use their power to guide conduct towards particular sets of outcomes for a population. By providing services, benefits, resources and knowledge, they limit individual possibilities through government. The very notion that states have a role to play in the health, mental well-being, education, etc., of a population entails this expansive control. ‘Governmentality’ is then the rationality, techniques and procedures through which the state enacts this control. This is a broadening of the concept of power and politics and generalizing of the notion of government. Its function seems mainly explanatory: to reveal the depths and extent of politics. However, Foucault also clarifies that the impetus here is critical and normative: to expose resistance to these practices of government. To govern for him involves offering knowledge and reasons why the governed should do as the state instructs (e.g. it keeps them healthy). This implies that one can criticize and resist those reasons and practices. For Foucault, the rise of governmentality entails a rise of the practice of critique. In this way, this is a critical conception of politics aimed at exposing power relations, conflict and domination in contemporary sociopolitical life. While analytically separate, these three conceptions of politics (i.e. government, public affairs and power) are deeply interwoven. Most definitions of politics work across these three emphases, variously emphasizing and relating their different elements. One could argue that they expose such different dimensions of politics that we may need to ask whether they are even highlighting the same thing.

THE STATE The concept of the state is, arguably, the central concept of political theory. The term ‘state’ can be used to refer to a bewildering range of things: a collection of institutions, a territorial unit, a historical entity, a philosophical idea and so on. Despite this variety, political theory as a discipline is tied to the idea that it is explaining, analysing and prescribing the politics in, around and on the state as an institution. In one sense, the reason for this is historical. Modern political thought arose with the emergence of state institutions. However, it is also intellectual. Western political theory has generally argued that the state is the most relevant explanatory and normative horizon for political life. As a result, it has often been fixated on this institution as the frame of its theoretical enquiries. There are four key areas of debate. First, the state is often confused with government, the two terms being used interchangeably. However, although some form of government has probably always existed, at least within large communities, the modern state did not emerge until about the fifteenth century. The precise relationship between state and government is, nevertheless, highly complex. Government is part of the state, and in some respects is its most important part, but it is only an element within a much larger entity. Second, there is considerable disagreement about the nature of state power and the interests it represents, evident in competing theories of the state. Third, there are

The Problem of Politics: The State and Sovereignty

profound disagreements over the proper function of the state: what the state’s purview should be and what should be left to private individuals? Finally, contemporary states have distinctive attributes that require political theory and science to enquire into the state in new ways.

From government to the state Several features distinguish the concepts of government and state. The state is often defined narrowly as a separate institution or set of institutions, as what is commonly thought of as ‘the state’. For example, when Louis XIV supposedly declared, ‘L’état c’est moi’ (I am the state), he was referring to the absolute power vested in himself as monarch. The state therefore stands for the apparatus of government in its broadest sense, for those institutions that are recognizably ‘public’ in that they are responsible for the collective organization of communal life and are funded at the public’s expense. Thus, the concept of the state is usually opposed to civil society. It comprises the various institutions of government, the bureaucracy, military, police, courts, social security system and so forth; it can be identified with the entire ‘body politic’. It is in this sense, for instance, that it is possible to talk about the growth or contraction of state institutions and corresponding enlarging or reducing of the machinery of the state. However, this institutional definition ignores key attributes that distinguish state from government. First, the state is sovereign, absolute in a way government is not. Second, it is territorial, sovereign power; its authority is confined to a precise geographical area. Third it is compulsory, its institutional apparatus expresses its unique normative legitimacy and authority. Fourth it is a community, a political association that creates all its members as citizens in a common bond. Fifth, these features give the state a permanence and generality government does not have. The defining feature of the state is often thought to be sovereignty, its absolute and unrestricted power (discussed in the last section). The state commands supreme power standing above all other groups in society; its laws demand compliance from those within the territory. Hobbes conveyed this image by portraying the state as a ‘Leviathan’, a gigantic monster, usually represented as a sea creature. It is precisely its total sovereignty that distinguishes the modern state from earlier political associations. In medieval times, for instance, rulers exercised power but alongside a range of other bodies, notably the church, the nobility and feudal guilds. Indeed, it was widely accepted that religious authority, centring on the Pope, stood above temporal authority. The modern state, however, which began emerging in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Europe, took the form of a system of centralized rule that succeeded in subordinating all other institutions, spiritual and temporal. Although such a state is now common-place, usually taking the form of the nation state, there are still examples of stateless societies. For example, a state can break down when its claim to exercise sovereign power is successfully challenged by another group or body, such as during civil war. Second, states can be distinguished from government by their relation to territory. State authority is territorially limited; states claim sovereignty only within their own borders and regulate the flow of persons and goods across these borders. The jurisdiction of the state within its borders is universal: everyone living within a state is subject to its authority. This is usually expressed through citizenship (see Chapter 7), formal membership of the

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state, which entails both rights and duties. Resident non-citizens may not be entitled to certain rights, such as the right to vote or hold public office, and may be exempt from particular obligations, such as jury service or military service, but they are nevertheless still subject to the state. Third, states exercise compulsory jurisdiction. Those living within a state rarely exercise choice about whether to accept its authority. Most people become subject to the authority of a state by being born within its borders; in other cases, this may be a result of conquest. Immigrants and naturalized citizens are somewhat exceptions since they alone can be said to have voluntarily accepted the authority of a state. Further, state authority is backed up by coercion: the state must have the capacity to ensure that its laws are obeyed, which in practice means possessing the ability to punish transgressors. Max Weber (1864–1920) suggested in ‘Politics as a Vocation’ ([1919] 1948) that ‘the state is a human community that (successfully) claims the monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force within a given territory’. By this he meant not only that the state had the ability to ensure the obedience of its citizens but also the right to do so. A monopoly of ‘legitimate violence’ is the practical expression of state sovereignty. Fourth, the state creates a political community (see Chapter 9). Beyond the formal rights of citizenship, the modern state creates a horizontal body of citizens in common cause. Importantly, this has involved a shared political identity commonly expressed through the language of national identities. It is in this sense that Benedict Anderson (1991), one of the most influential scholars of nationalism of the twentieth century, described nation states as ‘imagined communities’. States have stories, values, beliefs, culture and practices that link their members. In one way, the state is a deeply inclusive association (especially in comparison to pre-modern institutions), which embraces the entire community and encompasses those institutions that constitute the public sphere. Finally, the state has a generality and permanence that government does not. This is because the state is a continuing, even permanent, entity. By contrast, government is temporary: governments come and go and systems of government can be remodelled. Government is thus merely part of the state. On the other hand, although government may be possible without a state, the state is inconceivable in the absence of government. As a mechanism through which collective decisions are enacted, government is responsible for making and implementing state policy. Government is, in effect, the leadership of the state. In this way, it is usually thought to dictate to and control other state bodies, the police and military, educational and welfare systems and the like. By implementing the various state functions, government serves to maintain the state itself.

Theories of the state: Classical and twentieth century Although the state has assumed a variety of forms globally – the ‘absolutist’ state, the ‘socialist’ state, the ‘Islamic’ state (see p. 119) and so on – debate in political theory about the nature of the state has focused on the models found in modern Western societies. In the modern period, states quickly came to possess liberal and constitutional features, in the first instance, and democratic features in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. However, while there is broad agreement on the key characteristics of the liberal democratic state, there is far less about the nature of state power and the interests it represents. Controversy about the nature of the state has, in fact, increasingly dominated

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modern political theory and is a key division between the major traditions. In this sense, the state is an ‘essentially contested’ concept with several rival theories: different accounts of its origins, development and impact. These theories tend to be either fundamentally liberal or broadly critical. The absolutist model of the state was the first major modern theorization in the Western tradition. In a sense, its descriptive account of the state becomes widely integrated into modern state theory, while its normative argument for state power proves deeply controversial. The former identified many of the key features mentioned in the previous section. The state is sovereign, territorial, compulsory and unified. This model flows from thinkers such as Jean Bodin and Thomas Hobbes. Normatively, it involves an argument for centralizing political power to a single person (usually a monarch). Absolutist state theory is thus based on the idea that a political state should be embodied in a single figure, and all the rights, powers and obligations of the state should exist with reference to that centralized power. Hobbes ([1651] 1968) argued that to provide security and avoid conflict in human society required a ‘common power’. And ‘The only way to erect such a common power, as may be able to defend them from the invasion of foreigners, and the injuries of one another, and thereby to secure them … is to confer all their power and strength upon one man, or upon one assembly of men, that may reduce all their wills, by plurality of voices, unto one will.’ Only centralized power, expressed in one will, is stable. This conception of the state has significant consequences. For example, in what becomes one of the most influential accounts of modern legal theory, law becomes command. ‘Law in general, is not Counsell, but Command; nor a Command of any man to any man; but only of him, whose Command is addressed to one formerly obliged to obey him.’ The absolutist theory of the state deeply influenced the most institutionally significant state theory: constitutionalism (see Chapter 4). The idea of the constitutional state emerged out of the writings of liberal social contract theorists, especially John Locke and Montesquieu, and was significantly developed by American Federalism. Social contract theory was used not only to argue for government but also to advance a theory of the nature of state power. Whatever its historical intentions, part of social contract theory was to persuade citizens to treat the state as though it had been created by a voluntary agreement. The fact that every citizen benefitted from escaping the chaos of the ‘state of nature’ implied that the state is required to act in the interests of all: the ‘common good’ or ‘public interest’. In constitutional theory, the state is thus a neutral arbiter among competing groups and individuals; it is an ‘umpire’, capable of protecting each citizen from the encroachment of his or her fellow citizens. This illustrates that the constitutional state is defined by two sorts of limitation; limiting individuals and limiting the state. James Madison summed up the logic well in Federalist 10: ‘In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself ’ (Hamilton, Madison and Jay 2008). In fact, constitutionalism can be defined as the argument that legitimate states are limited in scope and action as delineated in a constitution, which, in its simplest sense, is the rules that govern the government. In this sense, it is a theory of the limited state. Constitutionalism can therefore be said to exist whenever government institutions and political processes are effectively constrained by a body of rules that juridically explain and define the nature of state structures. For example, in The Spirit of the Laws ([1750]

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1989) Montesquieu famously argued that a constitutional state required a separation of powers amongst various parts of the state: ‘There would be an end of every thing, were the same man, or the same body, whether of the nobles or of the people, to exercise those three powers, that of enacting laws, that of executing the public resolutions, and of trying the causes of individuals.’ For Montesquieu, the legislative, executive and judicial powers must be institutionally divided in a state to keep state power in check. In this way, the liberal constitutional model prescribes a model of the state that attempts to protect individuals from each other, and everyone from the state. Classical state theory also produces intensely critical views of the liberal democratic state. Marxism (see p. 249) offers an analysis of state power that fundamentally challenges the neutral image of the state. Marxists argue that the state cannot be understood separate from the economic structure of society: the state emerges out of the class system, its function to maintain class domination. The classic Marxist view is expressed in Marx and Engels’s often-quoted dictum from The Communist Manifesto ([1848] 1976): ‘the executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie’. This view was stated still more starkly by Lenin (see p. 250) in The State and Revolution ([1917] 1973), who referred to the state as ‘an instrument for the oppression of the exploited class’. Whereas classical Marxists stressed the state’s clear alignment with the interests of the bourgeoisie and its essentially coercive role, modern Marxists have taken account of the apparent legitimacy of the ‘bourgeois’ state, particularly in the light of the achievement of universal suffrage and the welfare state. This has encouraged some to argue that the state can enjoy ‘relative autonomy’ from the ruling class and so can respond, at times, to the interests of other classes. Nicos Poulantzas (1973) portrayed the state as a ‘unifying social formation’, capable of diluting class tensions through, for example, the spread of political rights and welfare benefits. However, although this neoMarxist theory echoes liberalism in seeing the state as an arbiter, it emphasizes the class character of the modern state by pointing out that it operates in the long-term interests of capitalism and therefore perpetuates unequal class power. The most radical condemnation of state power is found in anarchist theory. Anarchists see all forms of political authority as intrinsically oppressive, and the state as inherently dominating. Such thinking claims that political power is, by its nature, corrupt and corrupting. Those in power are impelled to subordinate others for their benefit, regardless of constitutional arrangements. The state is thus, in the words of the Russian anarchist Michael Bakunin (1814–76), ‘the most flagrant, the most cynical and the most complete negation of humanity’ (Bakunin 1867). Even modern anarcho-capitalists, such as Murray Rothbard (see p. 114), often dismiss the state as a ‘criminal band’ or ‘protection racket’, which has no legitimate claim to exercise authority over the individual. Many modern anarchists are nevertheless less willing to denounce the state as nothing more than an instrument of organized violence. In The Ecology of Freedom (1982), for instance, Murray Bookchin (see p. 181) described the state as ‘an instilled mentality for ordering reality’, emphasizing that in addition to its coercive institutions the state is also a state of mind. Mainstream twentieth-century political theory and science has been dominated by the liberal constitutionalist theory of the state. Reacting to the rise of liberal democratic thinking, institutions and reforms in the nineteenth century, elite theory argued that behind the facade of liberal democracy there lies the permanent power of a ‘ruling

The Problem of Politics: The State and Sovereignty

elite’. Classical elitists such as Gaetano Mosca (1858–1941), Vilfredo Pareto (1848– 1923) and Robert Michels (1876–1936) were concerned to demonstrate that political power always lies in the hands of a small elite and that egalitarian ideas, such as socialism and democracy, are a myth. Modern elitists, by contrast, have put forward strictly empirical theories about the distribution of power in particular societies, but have nevertheless drawn the conclusion that political power is always concentrated. For example, Joseph Schumpeter (see p. 115), whose Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy ([1944] 1994) created the theory of democratic elitism, described democracy as ‘that institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the people’s vote’. The electorate can decide which elite rules, but cannot change that the power is always exercised by an elite. Schumpeter and others often paired this empirical claim, about the inevitability of elites, with the normative argument that this was the most stable form of democratic rule. On the other hand, ‘radical elite theorists’, drawing on Marxism and Anarchism, used this emphasis to criticize liberal democracy. In The Managerial Revolution (1941), James Burnham suggested that a ‘managerial class’ dominated all industrial societies, both capitalist and communist, by virtue of its technical knowledge and administrative skills. Perhaps the most influential of modern elite theorists, C. Wright Mills, argued in The Power Elite ([1956] 2000) that US politics is dominated by big business and the military, commonly referred to as the ‘military-industrial complex’, which dictated government policy, largely immune from electoral pressure. Despite these critical accounts, the liberal constitutional tradition has been alive and well in twentieth-century thinking. Its main form in political science has been pluralist state theory. Pluralism argues that political power is dispersed amongst a wide variety of social groups rather than an elite. It is in a direct response to and rejection of elite theory. Robert Dahl (see p. 188), probably the most paradigmatic pluralist, characterized the Western liberal democratic state as ‘polyarchy’, rule by the many. This theory argues that modern democratic states are broadly successful at spreading political power across a variety of social sites through several institutional mechanisms. For example, voting and electoral choice ensures that government must respond to public opinion, and organized interests in a free civil society offer all citizens a voice in political life via group representation. Above all, pluralists believe that a rough equality exists among organized groups and interests, in that each enjoys some measure of access to government and that government is structurally incentivized to listen to all. At the hub of the liberal democratic state stand elected representatives who are publicly accountable because they operate within an open and competitive system. Non-elected state bodies such as the civil service, judiciary, police, army and so on, carry out their responsibilities with strict impartiality, and are subordinate to elected officials. A neo-pluralist theory of the state has been developed by writers such as J. K. Galbraith and Charles Lindblom (1977) since the 1980s. In their view, the modern industrialized state is both more complex and less responsive to popular pressures than pluralism suggests. While not dispensing altogether with the neutral image of the state, they insist that it needs qualifying. For example, it is impossible to portray all organized interests as equally powerful since in a capitalist economy business enjoys advantages

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that other groups clearly cannot rival. In The Affluent Society ([1958] 1998), Galbraith emphasized the ability of business to shape public tastes through advertising, and drew attention to the domination of major corporations over small firms and, in some cases, government bodies. Lindblom, in Politics and Markets (1977), pointed out that, as the major investor and largest employer in society, business is bound to exercise considerable sway over any government, whatever its ideological leanings or manifesto promises. While significantly different in many ways, ‘neoliberal’ or ‘market liberal’ views of the state have also developed the liberal constitutional theory. Like pluralism, they built on traditional liberal constitutional foundations but in a way that returns to classic liberalism’s focus on markets and economic behaviour (rather than constitutions) to limit states. As a result, it is distinguished by strong antipathy towards government intervention in economic and social life, born of the belief that the state inherently threatens both economic security and political liberty. Both are important. On the one hand, neoliberal political thought centres on a critique of the state’s impact on the economy. The broad argument is that decentralized economic activity is more efficient than centralized. In The Fatal Conceit (1988), Friedrich Hayek argues ‘The advantages of these market procedures were so contrary to expectation that they could be explained only retrospectively, through analysing this spontaneous formation itself … decentralised control over resources, control through several property holders, leads to the generation and use of more information than is possible under central direction.’ On the other hand, neoliberal political thought involves a political critique of the consequences of states on political liberty and a claim that markets better provide social regulation. This argument retains a strong emphasis on constitutional themes, such as minimal states, individual rights and the rule of law, but pairs these with a classical liberal emphasis on the role of property in providing social goods. For example, in Capitalism and Freedom (1962) Milton Friedman argued, So long as effective freedom of exchange is maintained, the central feature of the market organization of economic activity is that it prevents one person from interfering with another in respect of most of his activities. The consumer is protected from coercion by the seller because of the presence of other sellers with whom he can deal. The seller is protected from coercion by the consumer because of other consumers to whom he can sell. Recently political scientists have often shifted their attention from state structure to the broader processes of governing. This has been reflected in wider interest in the phenomenon of ‘governance’. Although it still has no agreed definition, governance refers to the ways social life is coordinated. The state is merely one of the institutions involved in governance; it is possible to have ‘governance without government’ (Rosenau and Czempiel 1992). From this perspective, several modes of governance can be identified, each of which helps to coordinate social life in its own way. Hierarchies, markets and networks (informal relationships and associations) offer alternative means of making collective decisions. The growing emphasis on governance has resulted from two important shifts in modern states and wider society. First, the boundaries between the state and civil society have become increasingly blurred through the growth of

The Problem of Politics: The State and Sovereignty

public/private partnerships, the wider use within public bodies and state institutions of private sector management techniques, and the increasing importance of so-called policy networks. Second, the state is not a specific realm within discrete societies. This has led to ‘multi-level governance’. Multi-level governance highlights a shift in policymaking responsibility away from national government, as power is both ‘drawn down’ and ‘sucked up’, creating a complex process of interactions. The former trend involves the strengthening of subnational bodies through a process of localization or devolution; the latter reflects the growing importance of international bodies, often interpreted as the emergence of ‘global governance’ (see p. 117).

THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL GOVERNANCE The notion of global governance emerged during the growing importance, especially since 1945, of international organizations such as the United Nations, the International Monetary Fund (IMF), and the Word Trade Organization (WTO). The traditional assumption that international politics operates in a state of anarchy, with no authority higher than the nation state, became more difficult to sustain. However, global governance is not world government, in which all humankind is united under one common political authority. It can thus be defined as the management of international politics in the absence of world government. Global governance is nevertheless a complex phenomenon that defies simple definitions or explanations. It is more a field than an object of study: although it can be associated with identifiable institutions and actors, it is essentially a complex of processes involving several features. First, global governance is multiple rather than singular: despite the UN’s overarching role within the modern global government system, it comprises different institutional frameworks and decision-making mechanisms in different issue-areas. Second, states and national governments retain considerable influence within the global governance system, reflecting international organizations’ general disposition towards consensual

decision-making and their weak powers of enforcement. Third, global governance blurs the public/private divide, in that it embraces non-governmental organizations and other institutions of so-called global civil society. Finally, global governance does not operate just at the global level; it features interactions between groups and institutions at various levels (subnational, national, regional and global), with no level enjoying predominance. Two kinds of debates have surrounded global governance. Normative controversies have raged over whether the advance of global governance should be welcomed. Liberals have supported it, arguing it provides a mechanism through which states can cooperate that does not abandon sovereignty while reducing levels of distrust in the international system. Realists, by contrast, have warned that international organizations develop separate interests from states, that amount to a form of proto-world government. Empirical debate about global governance focuses on its practical significance. Some argue that the unmistakable growth in the number and importance of international organizations since 1945 provides irrefutable evidence of a willingness among states to cooperate. Others suggest that, to the extent that states maintain sovereignty, international anarchy continues to reign. In short, states pursue self-interest, regardless of the context in which they operate.

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Global forms of the state At least one key challenge to contemporary state theory is the increasingly varied nature of states. While most political theory has tended to assume Western and liberal democratic norms and contexts for considering the state, the global nature of states requires thinking through its more varied forms. Such enquires are in their infancy in political theory. As such, the points below are reflections on this growing question. Western states are ‘liberal’ in the sense that they respect the principle of limited government; individual rights and liberties enjoy some form of protection. Limited states are typically upheld in three ways. In the first place, liberal democratic government is constitutional. A constitution defines the duties, responsibilities and functions of the various institutions of government and establishes the relationship between government and the individual. Second, government is limited by how power is dispersed throughout a number of institutions, creating internal tensions or ‘checks and balances’. Third, government is limited by the existence of an independent civil society, consisting of autonomous groups such as businesses, trade unions, pressure groups and so forth. Liberal democracies are ‘democratic’ in the sense that government rests on the consent of the governed. This implies a form of representative democracy in which the right to exercise government power is gained by success in competitive elections. Typically, such systems possess universal adult suffrage and secret-ballot elections, respecting a range of democratic rights such as freedom of expression, freedom of assembly and freedom of movement. The cornerstone of liberal democratic government is political pluralism, the existence of a variety of political creeds, ideologies or philosophies and of open competition for power amongst several parties (see Chapter 8). There are, however, a number of differences among liberal democratic states. Some of them, like the United States and France, are republics, whose heads of state are elected, while countries such as the UK and the Netherlands are constitutional monarchies. Most liberal democracies have a parliamentary system of government in which legislative and executive power is fused. In countries such as the UK, Germany, India and Australia, the government is both drawn from the legislature and accountable to it. The United States, on the other hand, is the classic example of a presidential system of government, based on a strict separation of powers between the legislature and the executive, as advocated by Montesquieu (see p. 107). The president and Congress are separately elected and each possesses a range of constitutional powers, checking the other. Some liberal democracies possess majoritarian governments. These occur when a single party, either because of its electoral support or the nature of the electoral system, can form a government on its own. Typically, majoritarian democracies possess two-party systems in which power alternates between two major parties, as has traditionally occurred in the United States, the United Kingdom and New Zealand. In continental Europe, coalition government are the norm, the focal point of which is a continual process of bargaining among parties that share government power. Despite the advance of democratization since the 1980s, there are several alternatives to the Western liberal model of government. These include ‘new’ democracies, East Asian government, Islamic government and military government. New democracies, many of which are in post-communist, or ‘transition’, countries, assume an outwardly liberal democratic form, with the adoption of multiparty elections and the introduction of market-based economic reforms. Nevertheless, to varying degrees, they lack democratic

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consolidation, exhibiting ‘flaws’ such as a weak civil culture, inadequate checks on executive power, unstable party systems or a general weakness of state power. Governmental forms in East Asia, notably in Japan and the so-called ‘tiger’ economies of South Korea, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore and Malaysia, have tended to prioritize delivering prosperity over civil liberty. They often exhibit broad support for ‘strong’ government, sometimes exercised through powerful leaders or ‘ruling’ parties, underpinned by widely respected Confucian principles such as loyalty, discipline and duty (see p. 86). Islamic government contains both fundamentalist and pluralist forms. The fundamentalist version of political Islam is most commonly associated with Iran and Afghanistan under the Taliban, where theocracies have been constructed in which political and other affairs have been structured according to ‘higher’ religious principles and political office has been closely linked to religious status. By contrast, in states such as Malaysia, Islam has the status of an official state religion but operates alongside a form of ‘guided’ democracy. Despite a general trend towards civilian government and some form of electoral democracy, military government continues to be important in Africa, the Middle East and parts of Southeast Asia. The classic form of military government is the junta, a clique of senior officers that seizes power through a revolution or coup d’état. Other forms of military government include military-backed personalized dictatorships and regimes in which military leaders content themselves with ‘pulling the strings’ behind the scenes.

BEYOND THE WEST ISLAMIC STATE Islamic thought has devoted significant attention to the state for both historical and theological reasons. The establishment of Islam coincided with the creation of a system of rule dedicated to its protection, in the form of the Caliphate founded in Medina in 622 CE. The Caliphate was an Islamic state whose leader (the caliph, meaning literally ‘successor’ to the prophet Mohammad) combined supreme religious and political authority. The theoretical basis for the Islamic state is that, by outlining a complete way of life based on a set of rules and principles that are eternal, divinely ordained and independent of the will of its followers, Islam does not distinguish between the sacred and the secular, religion and politics. In the Islamic ideal, religion and the state are inseparable. Nevertheless, an explicit concept of the Islamic state did not feature in Islamic theology until the twentieth century and the emergence of attempts to transform Islam into a politico-religious ideology, often termed political Islam or Islamism. Fundamentalist Islamic states had previously existed – most notably in Saudi Arabia since the eighteenth century – but the new version went beyond adopting shari’a (sacred Islamic law) as the basis of the legal system, and saw the state as an instrument of social and political regeneration. The Islamic state was embraced as a means of ‘purifying’ Islam by returning it to its supposed original values, countering Western colonialism, secularism and influence generally. Such thinking provided the basis for the reconstruction of Iran following the 1979 Islamic Revolution and influenced the adoption of Islamic states in countries such as Sudan, Afghanistan and Pakistan. However, the Iranian political system is a complex mix of democratic and theocratic elements, the former represented by an elected president and parliament, and the latter by the powerful Supreme Leader (since 1989, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei).

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SOVEREIGNTY The state emerged in fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Europe as a system of centralized rule that subordinated all other groups and associations, temporal and spiritual. The claim that the state exercised absolute authority within its borders was expressed in a new language of sovereignty, specifically territorial sovereignty. Politics thus acquired a distinct spatial character; in short, borders and boundaries mattered. This especially applied in the case of the distinction between ‘domestic’ politics, which was concerned with the state’s role in maintaining order and regulation within its borders, and ‘international’ politics, which was concerned with relations among states. The domestic/international divide effectively demarcated the extent of political rule. In this way, political theory and philosophy have tended to take a domestic character, and focus their theories on politics within the state and its sovereignty. Sovereignty means absolute and unlimited power. This apparently simple principle nevertheless conceals a wealth of confusion, misunderstanding and disagreement. In the first place, it is unclear what this absolute power consists of. Sovereignty can either refer to supreme legal authority or to unchallengeable political power. This controversy relates to the distinction between two kinds of sovereignty, termed by the nineteenthcentury constitutional theorist A. V. Dicey ([1885] 1939) ‘legal sovereignty’ and ‘political sovereignty’. The concept of sovereignty has also been used in two contrasting ways. In the form of internal sovereignty it refers to the distribution of power within the state, and leads to questions about the need for supreme power and its location within the political system. In the form of external sovereignty it is related to the state’s role within the international order and to whether or not it is able to operate as an independent actor. This section gives a bit more content to this important concept to fill out our understanding of politics and the state.

Legal and political sovereignty The distinction between legal sovereignty and political sovereignty is often traced back to a difference of emphasis found in the writings of classical exponents of the principle, Jean Bodin (see p. 140) and Thomas Hobbes (see p. 73). In The Six Books of the Commonweal ([1576] 1962), Bodin argued for a sovereign who made laws but was not himself bound by those laws. Law, according to this view, amounted to little more than the command of the sovereign, and subjects were required simply to obey. Bodin did not, however, advocate or justify despotic rule, but claimed, rather, that the sovereign monarch was constrained by the existence of a higher law, in the form of the will of God or natural law. The sovereignty of temporal rulers was underpinned by divine authority. Hobbes, on the other hand, described sovereignty as power rather than authority. He built on a tradition dating back to Augustine that explained the need for a sovereign in terms of the depredation that resides within humankind. In Leviathan ([1651] 1968), sovereignty is a monopoly of coercive power that should be vested in the hands of a single ruler. However, unlike Augustine, Hobbes does not see the threat in moral terms. For him, our need for centralized power stems from the nature of humanity: both our moral psychology and our existential situation. Regarding, the former, Hobbes argues we are desiring creatures. We have ‘a restlesse desire of Power after power, that ceaseth onely  in  Death’. Regarding the latter, he notes at least three conditions humanity lives

The Problem of Politics: The State and Sovereignty

THINKER AUGUSTINE OF HIPPO (354–430) Christian theologian and political philosopher. Born in North Africa, Augustine moved to Rome where he became professor of rhetoric. He converted to Christianity in 386 and returned to North Africa as Bishop of Hippo. He wrote against the backdrop of the sacking of Rome by the Goths in 410. Augustine’s defence of Christianity drew on Neoplatonic philosophy, Christian doctrine and biblical history. His major work, City of God (413–425), considers the relationship between church and state and examines the characteristics of two symbolic cities, the earthly city and the heavenly city, Jerusalem and Babylon. The heavenly city is based on spiritual grace and a love of God, and binds both rulers and subjects to the ‘common good’; its members will be saved and will go to heaven hereafter. By contrast, the earthly city is shaped by a love of self and is characterized by absolute power or sovereignty; its members are reprobates and will suffer eternal damnation. Augustine believed that fallen humanity is tainted by original sin and that sin creates the need for government. Government can curb sinful conduct through punishment, but it cannot cure original sin. Although Augustine insisted that the church should obey the laws of the state, his emphasis on the moral superiority of Christian principles over political society, and his belief that the church should imbue society with these principles, justified theocracy. This view set the tone of much medieval political thought and its view of the secular and sacred realms. under: (1) we are relatively equal in ability, (2) there is scarcity in the things we desire and (3) our lives are uncertain. All these make us fearful and desiring of security and leads Hobbes to define sovereignty in centralized terms. In the Sovereign ‘consisteth the essence of the Commonwealth; which, to define it, is: one person, of whose acts a great multitude, by mutual covenants one with another, have made themselves every one the author, to the end he may use the strength and means of them all as he shall think expedient for their peace and common defence’. This distinction therefore reflects the one between authority and power (Chapter 4). Legal sovereignty is based on the belief that ultimate authority resides in the laws of the state. This is de jure sovereignty, supreme power defined in terms of legal authority. In other words, it is based on the right to require somebody to comply, as defined by law. By contrast, political sovereignty is not based on legal authority but with the actual distribution of power, that is, de facto sovereignty. Political sovereignty refers to the existence of a supreme political power, possessed of the ability to command obedience because it monopolizes coercive force. However, although these two concepts can be distinguished analytically, they are closely related in practice and neither may constitutes a viable form of sovereignty alone. In a sense, sovereignty always involves a claim to exercise legal authority, a claim to exercise power by right and not merely by force. All substantial claims to sovereignty therefore have a crucial legal dimension. The sovereignty of modern states, for example, is reflected in the supremacy of law: families, clubs, trade unions, businesses and so on, can establish rules that command authority, but only within limits defined by law. Nevertheless, law on its own does not secure compliance. No society has yet been constructed in which law is universally obeyed and crime non-existent. This is evident in the simple fact that systems

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of law are everywhere backed up by coercive machinery, involving the police, courts and prison system. Legal authority, in other words, is underpinned by the exercise of power. Lacking the ability to enforce a command, a claim to legal sovereignty will carry only moral weight. A very similar lesson applies to the political conception of sovereignty. Although all states seek a monopoly of coercive power and prevent, or limit, their citizens’ access to it, very few rule through the use of force alone. Constitutional and democratic government has, in part, come into existence to persuade citizens that the state has the right to rule, to exercise authority and not merely power.

Internal and external sovereignty Internal sovereignty refers to the internal affairs of the state and the location of supreme power within it. An internal sovereign is therefore a political body that possesses final and independent authority, one whose decisions are binding on all citizens, groups and institutions in society. Much of political theory has been an attempt to decide precisely where such sovereignty should be located. Early thinkers, as already noted, were inclined to the belief that sovereignty should be vested in the hands of a single person, a monarch. Absolute monarchs described themselves as ‘sovereigns’, and could declare, as did Louis XIV of France in the seventeenth century, that they were the state. The merit of vesting sovereignty in a single individual was that sovereignty would be indivisible; it would be expressed in a single voice. This centralized conception of sovereignty was gradually replaced in the eighteenth century with the notion of popular sovereignty: the claim that political right ultimately lies within the people in some form (see Chapter 8). Popular sovereignty can take both individualist and collectivist forms. A more individualist conception of popular sovereignty can be seen in John Locke’s Two Treatises on Government ([1690] 1965). Locke argued that while sovereignty should be exercised by government, it was ultimately bound by natural law (see Chapter 6). That meant that sovereignty was conditional on a respect for the natural rights of ‘life, liberty and property’. Any government that violated the latter forfeited sovereignty ‘and it devolves to the People, who have a Right to resume their original Liberty’. However, this early understanding of popular sovereignty was expanded upon in more collectivist and democratic conceptions in the eighteenth century with the work of Austin and Rousseau (see p. 205). The British legal philosopher John Austin (1790–1859) argued that sovereignty is located in legislative bodies. For him, sovereignty in the UK was vested neither in the Crown nor in the people but in the ‘Monarch in Parliament’. This was the origin of the doctrine of parliamentary sovereignty, usually seen as the fundamental principle of the British Constitution. More radically, Rousseau rejected monarchical rule in favour of the notion of popular sovereignty, the belief that ultimate authority is vested in the people themselves. But for him popular sovereignty is not an individual right to liberty guaranteed by natural rights, nor vested in a representative body, but a collective product of democratic deliberation. When a people directly, collectively and dialogically formulate a group decision, they create a ‘general will’, a shared democratic sovereignty. In this way, the doctrine of popular sovereignty has often been the basis of modern democratic theory. All these thinkers agreed sovereignty could be, and should be, located in a determinant body. Political rule requires the existence of an ultimate authority; they only disagreed about who or what this ultimate authority should be. This has come to be known as the

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‘traditional’ doctrine of sovereignty. In an age of pluralistic and democratic government, the traditional doctrine has come under growing criticism. Its opponents argue either that it is intrinsically linked to its undesirable absolutist past, or that it no longer applies to modern systems of government which operate according to networks of checks and balances. It has been suggested, for instance, that liberal democratic principles run counter to sovereignty in that they distribute power among several institutions, none of which can meaningfully claim to be sovereign. This applies even in the case of popular sovereignty. Although Rousseau was deeply committed to the sovereignty of the people, he acknowledged that the ‘general will’ was an indivisible whole which could only be articulated by a single individual, ‘the legislator’. Similar concerns often surround the UK principle of parliamentary sovereignty. Governments that achieve majority control of the House of Commons gain access to unlimited constitutional authority, creating an ‘elective dictatorship’ or ‘modern autocracy’. The task of locating an internal sovereign in modern government is particularly difficult. This is clearest in the case of federal states, such as the United States, Canada, Australia and India, where government is divided into several levels, each of which exercises a range of autonomous powers. Federalism is often said to involve a sharing of sovereignty between these multiple levels, between the centre and peripheries. However, in developing the notion of a shared sovereignty, federalism moves the concept away from the classical belief in a single sovereign power. It may, furthermore, suggest that neither level of government can finally be described as sovereign because sovereignty rests with the document which apportions power to each level: the Constitution. The government of the United States of America offers a particularly good example of such complexities. It can certainly be argued that in the United States legal sovereignty resides in the Constitution because it defines the powers of federal government by allocating duties, powers and functions to Congress, the presidency and the Supreme Court, and so defines the nature of the federal system. Nevertheless, each branch exhibits its own sovereign power. By interpreting the Constitution sovereignty resides with the Supreme Court. In effect, the Constitution means what a majority of the nine Supreme Court Justices say it means. However, the Supreme Court’s interpretation of the Constitution can be overturned by amendments to the original document. In this sense, sovereignty would reside with the two-thirds majorities in both Houses of Congress and three-quarters of the United States’ state legislatures (required to amend), or in a convention specifically called for the purpose. To complicate matters further, it can be argued that sovereignty in the United States is ultimately vested in the American people themselves. This is expressed in the US Constitution, 1787, which opens with the words ‘We the people …’ and in its Tenth Amendment which stipulates that powers not otherwise allocated belong ‘to the states respectively, or to the people’. In view of these complexities, a polycentric concept of sovereignty has taken root in the United States that is clearly distinct from its European counterpart. By contrast, it has long been argued that in the UK a single, unchallengeable legal authority exists in the form of the Westminster Parliament. In the famous unsourced proverb of Jean-Louis de Lolme (1740–1806), ‘Parliament can do anything except turn a man into a woman.’ The UK Parliament appears to enjoy unlimited legal power; it can make, amend and repeal any law. It possesses this power because the UK, unlike the vast

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majority of states, does not possess a codified constitution that defines the powers of government institutions. Moreover, since the UK possesses a unitary rather than federal system, no rival legislatures exist to challenge the authority of Parliament; all legislation derives from a single source. Parliament-made law (that is, statute law) is also the highest law of the land, and will therefore prevail over other kinds of law, common law, case law, judge-made law and so forth. Finally, no Parliament can bind its successors, since this would restrict the laws that future Parliaments could introduce and curtail its sovereign power. While the UK’s rather top-down sovereignty may have been complicated by membership of the European Union, and the need to conform its law to European Law, the UK’s withdrawal from the EU clearly demonstrates its reserved power even while it was in the union. In political terms, it is unlikely that Parliament has ever enjoyed sovereignty; it cannot simply act as it pleases. In practice, a wide range of institutions constrain its behaviour, including the electorate, devolved bodies, organized interests, particularly those that possess financial or economic muscle, major trading partners, international organizations, treaties and so forth. External sovereignty refers to the state’s place in the international order and to its sovereign independence from other states. This principle was first outlined in the Peace of Westphalia (1648), a series of treaties that brought the Thirty Years War (1618–48) to an end. In this view, a state is sovereign over its people and territory despite the fact that no sovereign figures in its internal structure of government. External sovereignty can thus be respected even though internal sovereignty may be a matter of dispute. Moreover, while questions about internal sovereignty have in a democratic age appeared increasingly complex, the issue of external sovereignty has become vital. Indeed, some of the deepest divisions in modern politics involve disputed claims to such sovereignty. The Arab–Israeli conflict, for example, turns on the question of sovereignty. The Palestinians have long sought to establish a sovereign state in territory claimed by Israel; in turn, Israel has traditionally seen such demands as a challenge to its own sovereignty. Historically, external sovereignty has been closely linked to the struggle for popular government, the two ideas fusing to create the modern notion of ‘national sovereignty’. External sovereignty has thus come to embody the principles of national independence and self-government (see Chapter 9). Only if a nation is sovereign are its people capable of fashioning their own destiny in accordance with their interests. To ask a nation to surrender its sovereignty is tantamount to asking its people to give up their freedom. Hence why external or national sovereignty is so keenly felt and, when it is threatened, so fiercely defended. The historical strength of political nationalism (see p. 227) is the best evidence of this. Although the principle of external sovereignty is widely recognized, and indeed enshrined in international law, it is not without critics. Some have pointed out, for instance, the sinister implications of granting each state exclusive jurisdiction over its own territory and the capacity to treat its citizens as it chooses. There is, unfortunately, abundant evidence of the capacity of states to abuse, terrorize and even exterminate their own citizens. As a result, it is now widely accepted that states should conform to a higher set of moral principles, usually expressed in the doctrine of human rights. The phenomenon of ‘humanitarian intervention’, is sometimes seen as a reflection of the fact that a commitment to human rights now supersedes a concern for national sovereignty. Moreover, it is sometimes suggested that the classical argument for sovereignty points beyond national sovereignty.

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Thinkers such as Bodin and Hobbes emphasized that sovereignty was the only alternative to disorder, chaos and anarchy. Yet this is precisely what a rigorous application of the principle of national sovereignty would turn international politics into. In the absence of some supreme international authority, disputes between rival states will surely lead to armed conflict, just as without an internal sovereign conflict among individuals leads to brutality and injustice. In this way, the classical doctrine of sovereignty can be turned into an argument for a global state. However, such questions take us beyond the traditional purview of political theory and into cognate disciplines such as international relations. What is important here is that the concept of sovereignty deeply intersects with our discussions of politics, government and the state. In modern political theory, politics has often been deeply associated with the state and sovereignty has been seen to be the exclusive position of that entity.

CONCLUSION One of the most profound debates in political theory is inevitably over how to define its most central term. In many ways the various usages of ‘politics’ we discussed here (government, public affairs, power/conflict) reflect the various traditions and schools of modern Western political thought. From these the various understandings of the state in classical state theory (absolutist, liberal constitutional, Marxist anarchist) and twentieth century (elitist, pluralist, neoliberal and governance) also flow. Finally, this leads to the contested emphases and views of sovereignty in political theory, which, as we have seen, are overwhelming focused on the issues of the nature and shape of legitimate sovereignty. Such contestation and fracturing is just as present in the contemporary moment as in previous ones. This of course says something very important about the history and present of political theory.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS NICCOLÒ MACHIAVELLI’S THE PRINCE ([1531] 1961), CHS 5–9, 12, 15–18, 21, 25 Machiavelli’s The Prince ([1531] 1961) is one of the most influential texts in the history of modern political thought. It is often thought to offer the first version of the modern concept of the state, as well as an image of political leadership that ignores its traditional Christian and moral basis common at the time. Further, as discussed in this chapter, he offered a quasi-empirical and historicist examination of politics and the nature of political leadership that dramatically altered the usual approach to these topics in Europe. In the selected chapters, Machiavelli asks questions of how stable polities are acquired, created and maintained in light of different events, and different models of leadership and government. What emerges is a picture of the instability and capriciousness of politics, the necessity of daring in its face, and the complex and differentiated activity politics must be to successfully achieve any kind of stability. Readers and students should attempt to approach its often very specific and tangential discussions with an eye to these larger issues.

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Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘No one should marvel if, in speaking of principalities that are totally new as to their prince and organization, I use the most illustrious examples; since men almost always tread the paths made by others and proceed in their affairs by imitation.’ 2. ‘And many writers have imagined for themselves republics and principalities that have never been seen nor known to exist in reality; for there is such a gap between how one lives and how one ought to live that anyone who abandons what is done for what ought to be done learns his ruin rather than his preservation: for a man who wishes to profess goodness at all times will come to ruin among so many who are not good. Hence it is necessary for a prince who wishes to maintain his position to learn how not to be good, and to use this knowledge or not to use it according to necessity.’ 3. ‘For these two different humours are found in every body politic; and they arise from the fact that the people do not wish to be commanded or oppressed by the nobles, and the nobles desire to command and to oppress the people; and from these two opposed appetites there arises one of three effects: either a principality or liberty or anarchy.’ 4. ‘From this arises an argument: whether it is better to be loved than to be feared, or the contrary. I reply that one should like to be both one and the other; but since it is difficult to join them together, it is much safer to be feared than to be loved when one of the two must be lacking. For one can generally say this about men: that they are ungrateful, fickle, simulators and deceivers, avoiders of danger, greedy for gain; and while you work for their good they are completely yours, offering you their blood, their property, their lives, and their sons,, as I said earlier, when danger is far away; but when it comes nearer to you they turn away. What is the view of human nature here?’

Reading questions 1. What image of history and the development of human knowledge does Machiavelli seem to have in The Prince? 2. How does Machiavelli describe his method? 3. What is the situation of leaders for Machiavelli? What fundamental political pressures must they cope with? 4. What conception of people does he offer?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy Is all social activity, at some level, ‘political’? yy What differs between normative and critical accounts of government?

yy Where should the distinction between

‘public’ and ‘private’ life be drawn? yy Is politics, at heart, always about conflict? yy Can a meaningful distinction be drawn between government and the state?

yy What is the link between sovereignty and

the modern state? yy To what extent can we distinguish between legal and political sovereignty? yy Can sovereignty be reconciled with democracy? yy Why is it possible for external sovereignty to exist in the absence of internal sovereignty?

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FURTHER READING Crick, B. In Defence of Politics (2013). A classical exposition and defence of the concept and activity of politics, now in its fifth edition, that attempts to both posit an ideal of political activity and defend the concept from its more problematic associations. Hay, C., Lister, M. and Marsh, D. (eds) The State: Theories and Issues (2006). An accessible and comprehensive introduction to theoretical perspectives on the state, which highlights key issues and controversies.

Jackson, R. Sovereignty: The Evolution of an Idea (2007). An accessible account of the development of the concept of sovereignty, which examines both historical and contemporary debates about its nature and significance. Leftwich, A. (ed.) What is Politics? The Activity and Its Study (2004). A very useful collection of essays examining different concepts of politics as well as contrasting views of the discipline.

CHAPTER 6

THE PROBLEM OF LAW: ORDER AND OBLIGATION Introduction:128

INTRODUCTION

Law has a special significance in modern political thought in the Western tradition. In one sense, there is widespread agreement on the foundational and necessary nature of law: modern Western states are built on complex legal frameworks that lay out Order138 the powers and structure of the state, as •• Social control 139 we saw in Chapter 5. The centrality of law •• Natural harmony 143 to modern politics, however, flows from additional relevance. Law structures not Obligation145 only the state but also both the relations •• Obligation as contract 146 between individuals in a society and the •• Two alternative theories relations between those individuals and of obligation148 the state. For example, law commands •• Rebellion, the limits citizens, telling them what they must of obligation and do; it lays down prohibitions indicating disobedience149 what citizens cannot do; and it allocates Conclusion153 entitlements defining what citizens have the right to do. Although it is widely (though not universally) accepted in modern political theory that law is a necessary feature of political society, there is considerable debate about the nature and role of law. These debates centre on the origins and purpose of law. Does law liberate or oppress? Do laws exist to safeguard all individuals and promote the common good, or do they serve the interests of the powerful? Underlying these debates is a deep controversy about the relationship between law and morality: does law flow from moral standards? Or are laws morally arbitrary, simply imposing an authority? Law129 •• The rule of law 130 •• Natural and positive law 133 •• Law and liberty 136

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The problem of law relates to two further issues in political thought: order and obligation. The good of order and stability is often thought to be one of the principle ends of politics in Western thought, and law, as we have seen in the discussions of constitutionalism, is often thought key to the forms of political order important to Western thinkers. In everyday language as well, order and law often appear fused into the composite notion of ‘law-and-order’. As such, law is often construed as the principal device through which order is maintained. However, this raises a series of problems. In particular, is order only secured through a system of rule enforcement and punishment, or can it emerge naturally through the influence of social solidarity and rational good sense? In other words, can order arise ‘from below’ or does it always have to be imposed ‘from above’? Finally, while law is often thought to serve the goal of order and stability, in political theory law is deeply related to obligation. On the one hand, the concept of obligation links this chapter to the next and its debates on citizenship and rights. On the other hand, it raises the general issue of why and to what extent political subjects are obliged to follow the state and its laws. Obligations can include anything from obeying the law, to paying taxes, to compulsory military service. But, what are the origins of such obligations, and what kind of claim do they make on us? Are these claims absolute, or can subjects, in certain circumstances, be released from them? Does obligation tell us if and when it may be justifiable to break the law? This chapter confronts all these issues in asking how law poses a problem and solution in modern and contemporary political thought. Unlike other chapters that have seen us engage political theory and philosophy substantially with social theory, economics and political science, this discussion illuminates overlap between political and legal theory.

LAW The concept of ‘law’ is used in many ways. First, there are scientific laws that claim to describe necessary patterns found in either natural or social life (e.g. the laws of motion). This usage has been employed by social theorists to claim predictable patterns of social behaviour. For example, Engels argued that Marx (see p. 263) uncovered the ‘laws of historical and social development’, and the so-called ‘laws of demand and supply’ that underlie economic theory. Sociologists, in contrast, treat law as a means of enforcing norms of social behaviour. They see forms of law in all organized societies, ranging from informal processes to the formal legal systems typical of modern societies. By contrast, political theorists understand law as a social institution distinct (though related) from other social rules or norms. In the Western tradition, it is usually understood to have classical origins, especially in Roman jurisprudence, a medieval reformulation mainly focused on church or ‘canon’ law and a distinctively modern form once the state emerges as the dominant political association. In the latter, law constitutes a set of rules, including commands, prohibitions and entitlements. However, what distinguishes law from other social rules and norms? There is considerable debate in modern and

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contemporary political and legal theory; however, most authors will make some of the following claims. First, law is institutionalized with the state and so applies throughout society. In that way, law reflects the ‘will of the state’ and takes precedence over all other social rules. For instance, conformity to the rules of a sports club, church or trade union does not provide citizens with immunity if they have broken state laws. Second, law is compulsory. Citizens are not entitled to choose which laws to obey; law has both a special authority and legitimacy, and is backed up by a system of coercion. Third, law has a public quality in that it consists of published rules. This is, in part, achieved by enacting law through a formal, legislative process. Moreover, the punishments for law-breaking are predictable and can be anticipated. Fourth, law is usually recognized as binding, even if particular laws may be regarded as ‘unjust’. We are obliged to obey laws because they are laws. As a result, law clearly has a special status. For example, it may be more than simply a set of enforced commands, embodying moral claims. In this sense, law may have a normative force that means legal rules should be obeyed. While debates on law in political thought are multifaceted, these contending views on the nature of law can be examined through a series of key legal concepts and debates. In the first instance, the concept of the rule of law is central to the status of law within the state and outlines how laws create certain relations between individuals, and between individuals and states. Second, the distinction between natural and positive law goes to the heart of one of the most difficult issues: the relation between law and morality. Finally, the conceptual question of the relation between law and liberty highlights that law can have complex consequences for other social goods. Together, these illustrate the shape of the complex problem of law.

The rule of law The rule of law is arguably the central constitutional principle of Western liberal democratic states. Simply stated, it is the principle that the law should ‘rule’, that law and legal institutions should be the highest authority in a state. This ascendancy has at least two consequences. First, it establishes law as superior to every single individual in the state. This means that no one, including those in government, is outside the law. The exercise of state power by governors is constrained by law and is not subject to the arbitrary whims of leaders. Second, as no one is above the law, law is equally applicable to all. This means that law serves to regulate our interactions as members of a political society. It provides a body of norms, rules and institutions to mediate conflicts amongst individuals and groups, and so has to be accessible to all people. Importantly. The first consequence goes to the individual–state relation, and the second to the individual–individual relation. The principle of the rule of law in modern Western political thought developed out of the liberal constitutional tradition and its focus on law. Its radicality, which may not appear to contemporary readers, is best illustrated through historical context. Feudalism and early modern absolutist state theory construed the authority to rule as derived from persons. Flowing from particular classes (e.g. the aristocracy), lineages (e.g. monarchy) or divine ordination (e.g. the divine right of kings or the papal representation of God on earth), the right to rule was a product of who a person(s) was and was attached to their personal authority. From John Locke (see p. 217) onwards, liberals have argued that rule is derived not from persons but from law. In the first instance, this is because only

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law can be in accord with and institutionalize the natural rights that govern authority. As discussed later, Locke and early thinkers were significantly affected by the idea of natural rights. As he notes in The Second Treatise on Government ([1690] 1965), ‘The state of nature has a law of nature to govern it, which obliges every one: and reason, which is that law, teaches all mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty, or possessions.’ There are immutable and supreme laws, natural in form, that govern the conduct of states and individuals. Those laws are rational, and they ensure the protection of individuals and their freedom. Without the rule of law, each person is constantly under threat from every other person. The fundamental purpose of law is therefore to protect individual rights, which, in Locke’s view, meant the right to life, liberty and property. The virtue of the rule of law is that it serves to protect the individual citizen from two dangers: the state and other individuals. It does so by ensuring a ‘government of laws and not of men’ that restricts its own behaviour and that of individuals against each other. With these aims, the rule of law is usually thought to entail several additional principles that impose significant constraints on how law is made and adjudicated. For example, all laws should be ‘general’ in the sense that they apply to all citizens and do not select particular individuals or groups for special treatment, good or bad. It is, further, vital that citizens know ‘where they stand’; laws should therefore be precisely framed and accessible to the public. Retrospective legislation is clearly unacceptable on such grounds, as it allows citizens to be punished for actions that were legal at the time they occurred. In the same way, the rule of law is incompatible with inhuman forms of punishment. Above all, the principle implies that the courts should be impartial and accessible to all. This can only be achieved if the judiciary, whose role it is to interpret law and adjudicate between groups, is independent from government. This independence ensures that judges are ‘above’ or ‘outside’ the machinery of government. Law, in other words, must be kept strictly separate from politics. The institutional impact of the rule of law in the West cannot be overstated. It is enshrined in the German concept of the Rechtsstaat, a state based on law, which came to be widely adopted throughout continental Europe and encouraged the development of codified and professional legal systems. The rule of law, however, has a distinctively Anglo-American character. In the United States, the supremacy of law is emphasized by the status of the US Constitution, by the checks and balances it establishes and the individual rights outlined in the Bill of Rights. This is made clear in the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments to the Constitution, which specifically forbid federal or state government to deny any person life, liberty and property without ‘due process of law’. The doctrine of ‘due process’ not only restricts the discretionary power of public officials but also enshrines several individual rights, notably the right to a fair trial and to equal treatment under the law. Nevertheless, it, and the rule of law generally, also vests considerable power in the hands of judges who, by interpreting the law, effectively determine the realm of government action. The UK, in contrast, has traditionally represents an alternative conception of the rule of law. The classic account of this view is A. V. Dicey’s Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution ([1885] 1939). In Dicey’s account, the rule of law embraces four features. First, no one should be punished except for breaches of law. Second, the rule of law requires what Dicey called ‘equal subjection’ to the law, more commonly understood

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as equality before the law. Third, when a law is broken there must be a certainty of punishment. Finally, the rule of law requires that the rights and liberties of the individual are embodied in the ‘ordinary law’ of the land. The passage of the Human Rights Act (1989), which incorporated the European Convention on Human Rights into UK statute law, nevertheless brought the US and UK approaches to the rule of law closer together, in particular by reducing the reliance of the latter on common law rights and duties. However, the UK continues to offer a weak example of the rule of law. This is because parliamentary sovereignty, the central principle of the UK’s uncodified Constitution, can be seen to violate the rule of law. It is difficult to suggest that the law ‘rules’ if the legislature is not bound by external constraints. These empirical examples illustrate an important tension between law, particularly constitutionalism, the rule of law and democracy (see Chapter 8). Western political thought and states embraced the concept of the rule of law before turning to democracy as a means of choosing leaders. This has generated the constitutional democratic form that pervades the West. However, this form contains a fundamental tension because of the rule of law. Albert Weale in his book Democracy (2007) calls this a ‘ambiguity in their institutional structure and principled rationale’. For him, the democratic element makes popular sovereignty a core normative feature of government: governments should enact the will of the people. However, constitutions and the constraints of the rule of law mean that the people and their governors are constrained by laws (and often courts) that may object to their will. As Weale summarizes, ‘Accordingly, constitutional democracies are typically governed according to two sets of principles: constitutionalism, which prescribes that governments should conduct their business according to rules that limit their freedom of action, and a populist principle, which prescribes that governments should implement the will of the people.’ These tensions often play out in battles between the courts and politicians and have been especially fervent in recent waves of ‘populist’ politics. Despite its wide success, the rule of law also has critics. Many of these critical perspectives are focused on how the supremacy of law does not address inequalities in power between groups and so fails to address foundational inequalities. Marxists (see p. 249), for example, have traditionally regarded law not as a safeguard for individual liberty but as a means for securing property rights and protecting the capitalist system. For Marx, law, like politics and ideology, was part of a ‘superstructure’ conditioned by the economic ‘base’, the capitalist mode of production. Law protects private property, social inequality and class domination. Feminists (see p. 308) have also drawn attention to biases that operate through the system of law that favour the interests of men. Multicultural theorists (see p. 314) have similarly argued that law reflects the values and attitudes of the dominant cultural group, and so is insensitive to the values and concerns of minority groups. Finally, recent work in political theory on indigenous politics presents perhaps the greatest challenge to the rule of law. As discussed in Chapter 13, scholars such as James Tully and Glen Coulthard have argued that modern constitutional frameworks and their claim to legal supremacy have continued a colonial relationship over Indigenous peoples into the modern democratic state. Seeing Western legal systems as de facto supreme over indigenous laws and practices continues to subjugate those groups and prevents reconciliation on this argument.

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Natural and positive law The relationship between law and morality is one of the most difficult problems in political theory. Philosophers have long struggled with questions related to the nature of law, its origins and purpose. Does law, for instance, merely articulate and institutionalize a set of higher moral principles, or are law and morality fundamentally distinct social institutions? How far does, or should, the law of the community seek to enforce standards of ethical behaviour? Such questions go to the heart of the distinction between two contrasting theories of law: natural law and positive law. On the surface, law and morality are very different things. Law refers to a distinctive form of social control backed up by the means of enforcement; it therefore defines what can and what cannot be done. Morality, on the other hand, is concerned with ethical questions and the difference between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’; it thus prescribes what should and should not be done. In one important respect, however, law is simpler than morality. Law can be understood as a social fact, it has an objective character in that it is usually codified somewhere that can be studied. In contrast, morality is by its nature often deeply contested, subject to different interpretations. For this reason, it is often unclear what the term ‘morality’ refers to. Are morals simply the customs that reign within a particular community, its mores? Need morality be based on clearly defined and wellestablished principles, rational or religious, that sanction certain forms of behaviour while condemning others? Are moral ideals those that each individual formulates? Is morality, in short, of concern only to the individual? Thinkers who argue that law is, or should be, rooted in a moral system subscribe to some kind of theory of ‘natural law’. Theories of natural law date back to Plato (see p. 49) and Aristotle (see p. 101). Plato believed that behind ever-changing social and political life lay unchanging archetypal forms, the Ideas, of which only philosophers could have knowledge. A ‘just’ society required that human laws conformed to this transcendent wisdom. This line of thought was continued by Aristotle, who believed that the purpose of law and organized social life was to encourage humankind to live in accordance with virtue. In his view, there was a perfect law, fixed for all time, that would provide the basis for citizenship and all other forms of social behaviour. Politics on the Greek conception was then aimed at encouraging a virtuous life for its citizens. Medieval thinkers such as Thomas Aquinas (see p. 133) also took it for granted that human laws had a transcendent moral basis. Natural law, he argued, could be interpreted through our God-given natural reason and guide us towards the attainment of the good life on earth.

THINKER THOMAS AQUINAS (1224–74) Italian Dominican monk, theologian and philosopher. Born near Naples, the son of a noble family, Aquinas joined the Dominican order against his family’s wishes. He was canonized in 1324, and in the nineteenth century Pope Leo XIII recognized Aquinas’ writings as the basis of Catholic theology. Aquinas took part in the theological debates of the day, arguing that reason and faith are compatible, and defending the admission of Aristotle (see p. 101) into the university curriculum. His vast but unfinished Summa Theologiae (1963), begun in 1265, deals with the nature of

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God, morality and law – eternal, divine, natural and human. He viewed ‘natural law’ as the basic moral rules on which political society depends, believing that these can be elaborated by rational reflection on human nature. Since in Aquinas’ view human law should be framed in accordance with natural law, its purpose is ultimately to ‘lead men to virtue’. This reflects his belief that law, government and the state are natural features of the human condition rather than (as Augustine [see p. 121] had argued) consequences of original sin. Aquinas nevertheless argued that human law is an imperfect instrument, in that some moral faults cannot be legally prohibited and attempts to prohibit others may cause more harm than good. The political tradition that Aquinas founded has come to be known as Thomism; since the late nineteenth century neo-Thomism has attempted to keep alive the spirit of the ‘angelic doctor’.

In the modern period the idea of natural law was expressed through theories of natural rights. Natural rights were thought to have been invested in humankind either by God or by nature. Thinkers such as Locke and Thomas Jefferson proposed that the purpose of human-made law was to institutionalize and protect these God-given, rational and inalienable rights. However, the rise of rationalism and scientific thought served by the nineteenth century to make natural law theories distinctly unfashionable. For example, in the work of Immanuel Kant (1724–1804), the basis of morality and rights have shifted from natural laws to the fundamental nature of humanity and its dignity. The human capacity for rational thought, a self-directed life plan and agency justifies rights. This shifted the narrative from natural to human rights (see Chapter 7), which became the dominant twentieth-century framing. Indeed, there is a prevalent discourse around both national and international law that it should conform to the higher moral principles set out in the doctrine of human rights. In the case of international law, this has given rise to the controversial notion of ‘supranational’ law or ‘world’ law (see p. 135). The central theme of all conceptions of natural law is that law should conform to some prior moral standards; the purpose of law is to enforce those standards. This notion, however, was significantly criticized in the nineteenth century from what was called the ‘science of positive law’. The idea of positive law sought to free the concept from moral, religious and mystical assumptions. Many see its roots in Thomas Hobbes’s ([1651] 1968) (see p. 67) command theory of law: ‘law is the word of him that by right hath command over others’. In effect, law is nothing more than the will of the sovereign. A key development in this narrative is the utilitarianism (see p. 22) of Jeremy Bentham. Bentham argued that the ultimate justification of law(s) is whether they satisfy the principle of utility: whether they raise overall pleasure and diminish pain. There are no immutable laws and rights just those that happen to raise or diminish utility. By the nineteenth century, John Austin (1790–1859) developed this into the theory of ‘legal positivism’, which saw the defining feature of law not as its conformity to higher moral or religious principles, but in the fact that it is established and enforced by a political superior, a ‘sovereign person or body’. This boils down to the belief that law is justified because it is legally instituted as law. H. L. A. Hart’s The Concept of Law ([1961] 2013) attempted to refine legal positivism in the twentieth century. Hart was concerned to explain law not in terms of moral principles but by reference to its purpose within human society. Law, he suggested, stems from the ‘union of primary and secondary rules’, each of which serves a particular function. The role of primary rules is to regulate social behaviour; these can be thought of as the

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‘content’ of the legal system, for instance, criminal law. Secondary rules, on the other hand, are rules that confer powers on the institutions of government; they lay down how primary rules are made, enforced and adjudicated, and so determine their validity. While natural law theories are criticized as being hopelessly philosophical, positive law theories are accused of divorcing law from morality. The most extreme case of this was Hobbes, who insisted that citizens had an obligation to obey all laws, however oppressive, because to do otherwise would risk political chaos. However, other legal positivists allow that law can, and should, be subject to moral scrutiny, and perhaps that it should be changed if it is morally faulty. Their position, however, is simply that moral questions do not affect whether law is law. In other words, whereas natural law theorists seek to run together the issues ‘what the law is’ and ‘what the law ought to be’, legal positivists treat these matters as strictly separate. An alternative view of law, however, was associated with the ideas of the famous American jurist Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809–94). This is legal realism, the theory that it is really judges who make law because it is they who decide how cases are to be resolved. In this sense, all laws are judge-made. However, as judges are nonelected, this view has disturbing implications for the prospect of democratic governance. Interestingly, the focus on the role of judges in legal theory has also raised the prospects of a return of natural law. Ronald Dworkin, in Taking Rights Seriously ([1977] 1990), notably argued that judicial reasoning requires moral reasoning that ‘must carry the lawyer very deep into political and moral theory’. As such, this remains a very live debate.

THINKING GLOBALLY WORLD LAW In its traditional or ‘classical’ conception, international law has been firmly statecentric. This is the sense in which it is properly called ‘international’ law: it is a form of law that governs states and determines the relations amongst states, and its primary purpose is to facilitate international order. In this view, state sovereignty is the foundational principle of international law. States thus relate to one another legally in a purely horizontal sense, recognizing the principle of sovereign equality. Not only is there no world government, international community or public interest that can impose its higher authority on the state system, but the legal obligations of treaties and conventions are entirely an expression of the will of states. This classical view of international law is exemplified by the role and powers of the International Court of Justice, established in 1945.

However, due in part to the advent of industrialized warfare and the experience of the two world wars of the twentieth century, the classical conception of international law has increasingly been challenged by attempts to found a world constitutional order. This conception of international law is ‘constitutional’ in the sense that it aims to enmesh states within a framework of rules and norms that have a higher and binding authority, in the manner of a constitution. In investing law with supranational authority, it transforms ‘international’ law into ‘world’ law. The implications of this are far-reaching. In particular, it suggests that the scope of international law extends well beyond the maintenance of international order, and now includes the maintenance of at least minimal normative standards of global justice. This has been evident not only in attempts to establish international standards in areas such as women’s rights, environmental protection and the treatment of refugees but also in moves to

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enforce international criminal law through the use of ad hoc international tribunals and, since 2002, the International Criminal Court. Realist theorists in international relations have nevertheless criticized the trend towards and idea of world law, arguing that any attempt to construct a world constitutional order threatens to weaken state sovereignty and compromise international order. In this view, once international law is not rooted in state sovereignty, it ceases to be legitimate. Furthermore, tensions and confusion have

resulted from the fact that ‘world’ law incorporates and extends ‘international’ law rather than replacing it. International law thus continues to acknowledge the cornerstone importance of state sovereignty, while at the same time embracing the doctrine of human rights and the need for humanitarian standardsetting. Such confusion is particularly evident over the contested legality of humanitarian intervention, which is seen either as a duty to ‘save strangers’ because they are human, or as a violation of state sovereignty.

Law and liberty While political philosophers have been concerned about second-order questions on the nature of law, political debates tend to focus on the moral content of particular laws. Is law X morally justified or not? To what extent should a given law be allowed to enforce the morality of the dominant group? Such questions often arise out of the moral controversies of the day, and seek to know whether the law should permit or prohibit practices such as abortion, prostitution, pornography, drug-taking, genetic engineering, voluntary euthanasia, controversial cultural practices and so on. At the heart of these questions is the issue of individual liberty and the balance between the social enforcement of those individual moral choices through law. How far, if at all, should the law seek to ‘teach morals’? Behind this, of course, sit two difficult theoretical questions: (1) What is the relation between law and liberty? (2) How can we arrange that relation in the most normatively attractive way? The classic contribution to this debate is John Stuart Mill’s (see p. 168) On Liberty ([1859] 1972). He argued that ‘The only purpose for which power can rightfully be exercised over any member of a civilized community against his will is to prevent harm to others.’ In one sense, Mill’s position on law was classically liberal: he wanted the individual to enjoy the broadest possible realm of freedom. ‘Over himself ’, Mill proclaimed, ‘over his own body and mind the individual is sovereign.’ However, Mill does not end his argument for expansive liberty there. He goes on to make the argument that it is only with expansive personal liberty that human individuals can grow their reason and develop their individuality. The latter through its experiments in living would serve as the grounds of social progress. It is in this second sense that Mill saw liberty on more modern liberal terms: liberty was a condition for social development. As such, he remained committed to a distinction between ‘higher and lower pleasures’. The former lifts our individuality while the latter degrades it. His argument is that the freedom of the harm principle is required for the pursuit of higher pleasures. Mill’s ideas, however, raise several difficulties. First, his ‘harm principle’ implies a very clear distinction between actions that are ‘self-regarding’, whose impact is largely confined to the person in question, and those that can be thought of as ‘other-regarding’. In Mill’s

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view, the law has no right to interfere with ‘self-regarding’ actions where individuals are entitled to exercise unrestrained liberty. Law should therefore only restrict the individual in the realm of ‘other-regarding’ actions, and then only in the event of harm being done to others. The strict application of this principle would clearly challenge a wide range of laws currently in existence. For instance, laws prohibiting suicide, prostitution and drug-use, as well as those enforcing the use of seatbelts or crash helmets, are unacceptable as their primary intent is to prevent people harming themselves. Second, what is meant by ‘harm’? Mill clearly understood harm to mean physical harm, but there are grounds for extending the notion of harm to include psychological, mental, moral and even spiritual harm. For example, I may as an individual be free to drink myself into an early death. But what of the psychological harm that causes for those around me? Does the impact on one’s children, friends, families justify intrusion? This highlights a problem relating to individual autonomy. Mill undoubtedly wanted people to exercise control over their lives, but he recognized that this could not always be achieved (e.g. in the case of children). Children, he accepted, possessed neither the experience nor understanding to make wise decisions on their own behalf; as a result, he regarded the exercise of parental authority as perfectly acceptable. However, this principle can also be applied on grounds other than age, for example, in relation to alcohol consumption and drug-taking. On the face of it, these are ‘self-regarding’ actions, unless the principle of ‘harm’ is extended to include the distress caused to the family involved or the healthcare costs incurred by society. Nevertheless, the use of addictive substances raises the additional problem that they rob the user of free will and so deprive him or her of the capacity to make rational decisions. Paternalistic legislation may be justified on these grounds. Finally, this standard is controversial for who Mill chooses to exclude. In a passage that has haunted Mill scholars in recent decades, he notes For the same reason, we may leave out of consideration those backward states of society in which the race itself may be considered as in its nonage … Despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvement, and the means justified by actually effecting that end. Liberty, as a principle, has no application to any state of things anterior to the time when mankind have become capable of being improved by free and equal discussion. Mill explicitly excludes groups that are not yet, in his view, governed by reason and equal discussion. This has largely been read as a justification of colonialism where Mill asserts the legitimacy of suspending Western legal norms when a people does not meet a certain level of development. Passages like this in the works of Mill and other liberals have raised difficult questions for liberal political theory recently about how various groups have been excluded from liberal norms to justify their domination (see Chapter 13). An alternative basis for establishing the relationship between law and morality is by considering not the claims of individual liberty but the damage that unrestrained liberty can do to society. At issue here is the moral and cultural diversity that the Millian view encourages. A classic statement of this position is Patrick Devlin’s The Enforcement of Morals (1968), which argues that there is a ‘public morality’ that society had a right to enforce through the instrument of law. Devlin’s concern with this issue was raised by the legalization of homosexuality and other pieces of so-called ‘permissive’ legislation in

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the 1960s. Underlying his position is the belief that society is held together by a ‘shared’ morality, a fundamental agreement about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. Law therefore has the right to ‘enforce morals’ when changes in moral behaviour threaten the social fabric and the security of all citizens living within it. Such a view, however, differs from paternalism in that the latter is more narrowly concerned with making people do what is in their interests. Devlin extended Mill’s notion of harm to include ‘offence’, at least when actions provoke what Devlin called ‘real feelings of revulsion’ rather than simply dislike. Such a position has been adopted by the conservatives since the 1970s in relation to social change. This is reflected in current anxieties around LGBTQ+, and the expansion of public discussions of systemic racism (amongst others). Against various cultural threats, conservative thinkers (see p. 142) have usually extolled the virtues of ‘traditional morality’ and ‘family values’. The central theme of such arguments is that morality is simply too important to be left to the individual. Where society and the individual conflict, law must always take the side of the former. Such a position, however, raises some serious questions. First, is there any such thing as a ‘public morality’? Is there a set of ‘majority’ values that can be distinguished from ‘minority’ ones? Apart from acts such as murder, physical violence, rape and theft, moral views diverge considerably from generation to generation, from social group to social group, and from individual to individual. Second, there is a danger that under the banner of traditional morality, law is little more than social prejudice. If acts are banned simply because they cause offence to the majority, this comes close to saying that morality boils down to a show of hands. Surely, moral judgements must be critical, but only when they are based on clear and rational principles rather than just conventional wisdom. Finally, it is by no means clear that a healthy and stable society can only exist where a shared morality prevails. This stance, for example, calls the very idea of a multicultural and multifaith society into question. However, this raises the issue of social order and the conditions that maintain it.

ORDER A concern with disorder and social instability has been one of the most fundamental issues of modern Western political philosophy. In one sense, this is unsurprising, most early modern thinkers were concerned to offer a radically different form of political power and organization. The breakdown of order was a real worry. Dating back to the social contract theories of the seventeenth century, political thinkers have thus grappled with the problem of order and sought ways of preventing modern politics from degenerating into chaos. Without order and stability, human life would, in Hobbes’s words, be ‘solitary, poor, nasty, brutish and short’. Such fears are also evident in the everyday use of the word ‘anarchy’ to imply disorder, chaos and violence. For these reasons, order has attracted almost unqualified approval from political theorists, in so far as none of them are prepared to defend ‘disorder’. At the same time, however, the concept of order entails very different things for different political thinkers. At one extreme, traditional conservatives believe that order is inseparable from notions such as control, discipline and obedience; at the other, anarchists have suggested that order is related to natural harmony, equilibrium and balance. Such theoretical divisions reflect profound disagreement not only about the concept but also how it can be established.

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While there may be competing conceptions of order, certain common characteristics can be identified. Order describes regular, stable and predictable behaviour, and social order suggests continuity, even permanence. Social disorder, by contrast, implies chaotic, random and violent behaviour that is by its very nature unstable and changing. Above all, the virtue that is associated with order is personal security, both physical (freedom from intimidation and violence) and psychological (the comfort and stability which only regular and familiar circumstances engender).

Social control Order is often linked to the ideas of discipline, regulation and authority. In this sense, order comes to stand for a form of social control that is imposed ‘from above’. Social order must be imposed because, quite simply, it does not occur naturally. All notions of order are based on a conception of disorder and of the forces that cause it. What causes antisocial behaviours, crime and social unrest? Those who believe that order is impossible without the exercise of control or discipline usually locate the roots of disorder in the human individual. In other words, human beings are naturally corrupt and, if not restrained, they will behave in anti-social fashions. Such ideas are sometimes religious in origin, as in the case of the Christian doctrine of ‘original sin’. In other cases, they are explained by the belief that human beings are essentially self-seeking or egoistical. If left to their own devices, individuals act to further their own interests or ends, and will do so at the expense of fellow human beings. One of the most negative accounts of human nature is found in the writings of absolutist (see p. 139) thinkers such as Thomas Hobbes, who in Leviathan ([1651] 1968) described the principal human inclination as ‘a perpetual and restless desire for power after power, that ceaseth only in death’. This explains why his description of the state of nature understands the threat of violence to be the main condition of human interaction. In his view, its dominant feature would be a barbaric and unending war of ‘every man against every man’.

TRADITION: Absolutism Absolutism is the theory or practice of absolute government. Government is ‘absolute’ in the sense that it possesses unfettered power: it cannot be constrained by an external body. Absolute government is usually associated with the political forms that dominated Europe in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, particularly absolute monarchy. The absolutist principle is thus encapsulated in King Louis XIV of France’s famous declaration: ‘L’état, c’est moi’ (I am the state). However, there is no necessary connection between monarchy and absolute government. Although unfettered power can be placed in the hands of the monarch, it can also

be vested in a collective body such as a supreme legislature. Absolutism, nevertheless, differs from modern versions of dictatorship, notably twentieth-century totalitarianism. Whereas absolutist regimes aspired to a monopoly of political power, usually achieved by excluding the masses from politics, totalitarianism involves the establishment of ‘total power’ through the politicization of every aspect of social existence. Absolute government and absolute power are not the same thing, however. The absolutist principle claims an unlimited right to rule, rather than the exercise of unchallengeable power.

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This is why absolutist theories are closely linked to the concept of sovereignty, representing an unchallengeable and indivisible source of legal authority. There are both rationalist and theological versions of absolutist theory. Rationalist theories of absolutism generally argue that only absolute government can guarantee order and social stability. Divided sovereignty or challengeable power is a recipe for disorder. Theological absolutisms have often been based on the doctrine of divine right, according to which the absolute control a monarch exercises over his or her subjects derives from, and is analogous to, the power of God over creation. Monarchical power is therefore unchallengeable because it is the temporal expression of God’s authority. Absolutist theories claim to identify enduring political truths. In particular, they emphasize the central importance of order to politics, and conceive the primary objective of political society as maintaining stability and security. Absolutist theories have been criticized as both politically redundant and normatively objectionable. Absolutist government collapsed in Western modernity in the face of the advance of constitutionalism and political representation, and where dictatorship has survived it has assumed a quite different political character. Indeed, by the time the term was coined in the nineteenth century, the phenomenon itself had largely disappeared. Modern political thought, linked to ideas such as individual rights and democratic accountability, is largely an attempt to protect against the dangers of absolutism even

as many of its assumptions about sovereignty continue in liberal and democratic theory. Key figures Jean Bodin (1530–96)  A French political philosopher, Bodin was the first notable theorist of sovereignty in the modern Western tradition, which he defined as ‘the absolute and perpetual power of a commonwealth’. In his view, the only guarantee of political and social stability is the existence of a sovereign with final lawmaking power. Law reflects the ‘will’ of the sovereign. Bodin’s most important work is The Six Books of the Commonweal ([1576] 1962). Robert Filmer, Sir (1588–1653)  An English country knight, Filmer defended the doctrine of divine right by developing a theory of patriarchalism. In Patriarcha (1632), which was widely endorsed by leading royalists from the English Civil War period, Filmer argued that the authority of the king is the authority of fathers, handed down from Adam, the father of all of us. Joseph de Maistre (1753–1821)  A French aristocrat and political thinker, Maistre was a fierce critic of the French Revolution. His political philosophy was based on complete subordination to ‘the master’. Maistre believed that society is organic, and would collapse if it were not bound together by the twin principles of ‘throne and altar’. Maistre’s chief political works include Considerations sur la France (1796) and Du Pape (1817). See also Thomas Hobbes (p. 73)

The conservative conception of order has been deeply influenced by this pessimistic view of human nature. Conservatives have, for example, typically rejected explanations of crime that focus on poverty or social deprivation. Crime is nothing more than an individual phenomenon reflecting the moral corruption that lies within each human being. The criminal is therefore a morally ‘bad’ person, and deserves to be treated as such. This is why conservatives tend to see an intrinsic link between the notions of order and law, and are inclined to refer to the fused concept of law and order. In effect, public order is quite unthinkable without clearly enforced laws and the threat of punishment.

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The conservative analysis, nevertheless, goes further. Conservatives not only hold that human beings are morally corrupt but also emphasize the degree to which social order, and indeed human civilization itself, is fragile. For example, Edmund Burke (see p. 28) portrayed society as ‘organic’, as a living entity within which each element is linked in a delicate balance. The ‘social whole’ is more than simply a collection of its individual parts, and if any part is damaged the whole is threatened. Conservatives such as Burke have emphasized that society is held together by the maintenance of traditional institutions such as the family and by respect for an established culture, based on religion, tradition and custom. The defence of the ‘fabric’ of society became one of the central themes of neoconservatism, advanced in the United States by social theorists such as Irving Kristol (see p. 143) and Daniel Bell, who have warned against the destruction of spiritual values brought about by both market pressures and the permissive ethic. From this perspective, law can be seen not only as a way of maintaining order by threatening the wrongdoer with punishment but also as a means of upholding traditional values and established beliefs. Hence why conservatives have usually agreed with Patrick Devlin in believing that the proper function of law is to ‘teach morality’. The concept of order as social control has, finally, been defended with a particular moral psychology. This view emphasizes that human beings are limited and psychologically insecure creatures. Above all, people seek safety and security; they are drawn naturally towards the familiar, the known, the traditional. Order is therefore a vital human need. This implies that human beings will recoil from the unfamiliar. In this way, for example, Edmund Burke and Michael Oakeshott were able to portray prejudice against people different from ourselves as both natural and beneficial, arguing that it gives individuals a sense of security and social identity. Such a view, however, has very radical implications for the maintenance of order. At the very least it justifies promoting a cohesive political or national identity. At greater levels, it may suggest social homogenization and the exclusion of social difference. This can make it entirely at odds with the multicultural and multifaith nature of many contemporary societies, suggesting that disorder and insecurity must always lie close to the surface in such societies. As a result, many conservatives have objected to unchecked immigration, or demanded that immigrants assimilate into the culture of their ‘host’ country. The idea of order as social control has also reappeared in a very different framing in recent political thought. Michel Foucault, the prominent French post-structuralist thinker, in Discipline and Punish ([1975] 1995) used the idea of discipline to examine the nature of modern power. For Foucault, contemporary states are characterized by ‘gentler’ forms of social regulation that, while normatively attractive, are also more effective forms of control. The purpose of these, as he notes, is ‘to punish less, perhaps; but certainly to punish better’. His point was that there was a complex body of techniques and institutions in contemporary states that allowed states to more effectively observe, quantify, regulate and constrain deviant behaviour than previous more brutal periods. Further, and this is the real political point, this kind of ‘disciplinary power’ is for Foucault paradigmatic of modern states and how they relate to citizens. People are objects of control to be normalized and constrained.

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TRADITION: Conservatism Conservative political thought first emerged in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries as a reaction against the growing pace of economic and political change, often symbolized by the French Revolution. From the outset, there were substantial divisions in conservative thought. While an authoritarian and reactionary form of conservatism took root in continental Europe, a more pragmatic and empiricist conservatism developed in the Anglo-American world, that claimed to accept ‘natural’ change (see Chapter 2). This stance enabled conservatives from the late nineteenth century onwards to embrace qualified social reform under the banner of paternalism and social duty. Such ideas nevertheless came under pressure from the 1970s due to the growth of the New Right. Conservatives have typically distrusted the theories and abstract principles that characterize other political traditions, placing their faith instead in tradition, history and experience. An enduring theme in conservative thought is the perception of society as a moral community, held together by shared values and beliefs, and functioning as an organic whole. Although traditional conservatives have been firm supporters of private property, they have typically advocated a non-ideological and pragmatic attitude to the relationship between the state and the individual. Whereas conservatism in the United States carries with it the implication of limited government, the paternalistic tradition, evident in ‘One Nation conservatism’ in the UK and Christian Democracy in continental Europe, overlaps with the welfarist and interventionist beliefs found in modern liberalism (see p. 280) and social democracy (see p. 194). In contrast, the New Right encompasses distinct and, some would argue, conflicting traditions. It is deeply influenced by neoliberalism, draws heavily on classical liberalism (see p. 37) and advocates rolling back the frontiers of the state in the name of private enterprise, the free market and individual responsibility. However, it also is deeply marked by neoconservatism, which

highlights society’s deep fragility, and warns against the spread of ‘progressive’ values and cultural diversity. Neoconservatives typically call for a restoration of authority and social discipline, and a strengthening of traditional values and national identity. Conservative political thought has always been open to the charge that it legitimizes the status quo and defends the interests of dominant groups. Other critics allege that divisions between traditional conservatism and the New Right run so deep that the conservative tradition has become entirely incoherent. Conservatives counter that they are merely advancing certain enduring, if unpalatable, truths about human nature and the societies we live in. That human beings are morally and intellectually imperfect, and seek the security that only tradition, authority and a shared culture can offer. Experience and history will always provide a sounder basis for political theory than vague principles such as liberty, equality and justice. Key figures Carl Schmitt (1888–1985)  A German legal and political theorist, Schmitt developed a political realism that harked back to Hobbes and influenced generations of conservative theorists. In The Concept of the Political (1927), he attacked ‘liberal-neutralist’ and ‘utopian’ notions of politics, arguing that the basic characteristic of political life is the distinction between friend and enemy, and that political conflict is an immutable reality. Schmitt’s work has proven controversial because of his association with German Nazism. Michael Oakeshott (1901–90)   A British political philosopher, Oakeshott made a major contribution to conservative traditionalism. By highlighting the importance of civil association and insisting on the limited province of politics, he developed themes closely associated with liberal thought. Oakeshott outlined a powerful defence of a non-ideological style of politics, arguing in favour of traditional values and

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established customs through an account of the conservative disposition. Oakeshott’s key works include Rationalism in Politics and Other Essays ([1962] 1991) and On Human Conduct (1975). Irving Kristol (1920–2009)  A US journalist and social critic, Kristol was a member of a group of intellectuals, centred around journals such as Commentary and The Public Interest, who in

the 1970s abandoned liberalism and became increasingly critical of the spread of welfarism and the ‘counterculture’. Kristol’s best-known writings include Two Cheers for Capitalism (1978) and Reflections of a Neo-Conservative (1983). See also Thomas Hobbes (p. 73) and Edmund Burke (p. 28)

Natural harmony A very different conception of order emerges from socialist and anarchist thinkers. Anarchists, for instance, advocate the abolition of the state and all forms of political authority, including the machinery of law and order. Marxist socialists sympathized with the ideal of a society without social conflict and the need for imposed order. Marx suggested in The Communist Manifesto that the state, and with it law and other forms of social control, would gradually ‘wither away’ once social inequality was abolished (though this point has been overblown by critics). Parliamentary socialists and modern liberals have made more modest proposals, but they have nevertheless been critical of the belief that order requires coercion. Although such views are critical of the conventional notion of ‘law and order’, they are not an outright rejection of ‘order’ itself. Rather, they argue that social order can take the form of harmony, regulated only by communal and individual forms of morality and community. This concept of order assumes that the root cause of disorder is not the individual but the structure of society. Human beings are neither morally corrupt nor incapable; rather, the source of socially deviant behaviour is society. This argument has a long history stemming from historicist and nurture-based accounts of human nature. For example, Rousseau in The Discourse on Inequality argued that the institution of property is the origin of social conflict and violence in society. He famously summarizes this in the famous opening words of the Social Contract ([1762] 1969), ‘Man is born free but is everywhere in chains.’ The idea that humans are plastic and that social influences determine behaviour is the basis of many critical political theories that emerged out of the socialist, anarchist and republican traditions, and which developed into twentieth-century critical theory (p. 78), post-structuralism (p. 82), radical democracy (p. 187), feminism (p. 308) and postcolonialism (p. 336). In these traditions, society can corrupt individuals in several ways. Socialists and many liberals point to a link between crime and social deprivation, arguing that laws that protect property are bound to be broken so long as poverty and social inequality persist. Such a view suggests that order can best be promoted not by a fear of punishment but through social reform designed, amongst other things, to improve living and working conditions. Marxists and classical anarchists have taken such arguments further and called for a social revolution. In their view, crime and disorder are rooted in the institution of private property necessarily and in the economic inequality that it gives rise to. Feminists and postcolonial thinkers, finally, have pointed to how the fundamental power structures of patriarchy and colonial domination have psychological and behavioural consequences for women and colonized peoples.

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Simply assuming human plasticity and the social origin of disorder does not go all the way to natural harmony. This conception requires a further step mainly evidenced in socialist and Marxist accounts of the nineteenth century that established it. There socialists argued that the selfish and acquisitive behaviour that is so often blamed for social disorder is bred by social structure itself. Capitalism structures human relation to encourage self-seeking and competitive behaviour, rewarding individuals for putting their own interests before others. Socialists therefore argued that order can more easily be maintained in a society which encourages social solidarity and cooperation. Anarchists, for their part, have pointed the finger at the institution of the law itself, as the principal cause of disorder and crime. Peter Kropotkin (see p. 51) argued in ‘Law and Authority’ ([1886] 1977) that, ‘the main supports of crime are idleness, law and authority’. Law is not simply a means of protecting property from the propertyless but is a form of ‘organized violence’, as Leo Tolstoy (1828–1910) put it. Law is the naked exercise of power over others; all laws are oppressive. Therefore law can only be maintained through a system of coercion and punishment, for Tolstoy (2018): ‘by blows, by deprivation of liberty and by murder’. The solution to the problem of social disorder is therefore simple: abolish all laws and allow people to act freely. Like order as social control, order as natural harmony is rooted in a distinct conception of humanity. Rather than needing to be disciplined, people can live together in natural harmony. Order is thus ‘natural’ in that it can spontaneously emerge out of the actions of free individuals when social structures do not pervert their relations. This account took two more developed forms. In the first, human beings are portrayed as rational beings, capable of solving whatever disagreements may arise between them through debate, negotiation and compromise rather than violence. It was, for instance, his deep faith in reason which encouraged J. S. Mill to advocate that law be restricted to the limited task of preventing us from harming each other. Anarchist thinkers such as William Godwin went further, declaring that ‘sound reason and truth’ would in all circumstances prevent conflict from leading to disorder. In the second, people are naturally disposed to be sociable, cooperative and gregarious. No dominant culture or traditional morality, nor any form of social control exercised from above, is needed to secure order and stability. Rather, this will emerge naturally and irresistibly out of the sympathy, compassion and concern that each person feels for all fellow humans. Similar conclusions have also been reached within non-Western traditions, notably Daoism (see p. 144).

BEYOND THE WEST DAOISM AND NATURAL HARMONY Daoism (Taoism) is a religious and philosophical tradition that, with Confucianism and Buddhism, constitutes one of the three principle schools of Chinese thought. As Daoist texts became more familiar in the West from the nineteenth century, their critical and oppositional association put Daoism into conversation with Western anarchist discourse (Clarke 2000). The link between Daoism and anarchism was established by a shared belief in natural harmony and spontaneous order, as well as what appeared to be a common commitment to minimal government and social regulation. As the sixth-century BCE Daoist sage Laozi (Lao Tzu) put it, ‘Governing a great state is like cooking a small fish’.

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However, the Daoist conception of natural harmony differs in important respects from the Western anarchist conception. Whereas the anarchist model of natural harmony is anthropocentric (human-centred), based on a theory of human nature that stresses sociability and cooperation, the Daoist model of natural harmony is cosmological and ontological. Spontaneous order is implicit in the universe itself and so embraces both nature and humankind. For Daoists, cosmic harmony is reflected in an exact balance of opposites: good and evil, light and dark, motion and stillness, feminine and masculine, negative and positive. This notion is represented by the symbol of yin and yang: a circle formed by two intercooled shapes, one dark, the other light. The yin is dark, feminine and negative; the yang is light, masculine and positive. Everything that exists is a balance of yin and yang and only when that balance is maintained can there be universal harmony. In this light, Daoism is not so much concerned with abolishing state power for its own sake. Rather, it is a source of guidance for rulers, hoping to ensure that they rule in harmony with the Dao (the Way) and thus act to remove artificial hindrances to the spontaneous workings of the state.

OBLIGATION An obligation is a duty to act. H. L. A. Hart ([1961] 2013) distinguished between ‘being obliged’ to do something, which implies coercion, and ‘having an obligation’ to do something, which suggests moral duty. Though a cashier in a bank may feel obliged to give money to a gunman, he is under no obligation. This can be seen in the distinction between legal and moral obligations. Legal obligations, such as the requirement to pay taxes and observe laws, are enforceable through the legal system and its penalties. Moral obligations, which concern this section, are fulfilled not because of enforceability but because such conduct is rightful. To give a promise, for example, is to be under a moral obligation to carry it out, regardless of the consequences. The notion of obligation is deeply connected to the idea of rights in Chapter 7. In a sense, rights and obligations are the reverse sides of the same coin. To possess a right usually places someone else, other individuals and the state, under an obligation to respect that right. For example, if people have the right to life, then government is subject to an obligation to maintain public order and ensure personal security. However, if citizens are bearers of rights alone and all obligations fall on the state, orderly life would be impossible: individuals who possess rights but acknowledge no obligations would be unrestrained. Citizenship, therefore, entails a blend of rights and obligations, the most basic of which is political obligation: the duty to acknowledge state authority and obey its laws. The only political thinkers who are prepared to reject political obligation completely are philosophical anarchists such as Robert Paul Wolff ([1970] 1998), who insist on absolute respect for individual autonomy. Most others do not debate whether political obligation exists, but its grounds and extent. The classic explanation of political obligation is found in the idea of a ‘social contract’ (see p. 47), the belief that there are clear rational grounds for respecting state authority. Other thinkers, however, have suggested that obligations, responsibilities and duties are not merely contractual but an intrinsic feature  of any stable society. Such debates on the grounds of obligation raise an additional issue: what

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are the limits of political obligation? At what point can the dutiful citizen be released from his or her obligation to obey the state and exercise a right of rebellion? What does this tell us about contemporary civil disobedience?

Obligation as contract Social contract theory is one of the most long-standing intellectual traditions in Western political thought. While usually associated with modern thinking, some form of social contract can be found in Plato (see p. 49). Further, it became a central way of framing questions of political authority and sovereignty in the work of early modern thinkers such as Thomas Hobbes (see p. 73), John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau (see p. 205, 210), who are usually seen as the central pillars of this tradition. Finally, it made an unexpected return in the twentieth century in the deeply influential work of Rawls (see p. 283), one of the most significant thinkers in the Anglo-American tradition. In this, the idea of a social contract has been a fundamental lens through which Western thinkers have considered political questions. A ‘contract’ is a formal agreement between two or more parties. Contracts, however, are a specific kind of agreement, entered voluntarily and on mutually agreed terms. To enter into a contract is, in effect, to make a promise to abide by its terms; it therefore entails a moral as well as sometimes a legal obligation. A ‘social contract’ is an agreement made either among citizens, or between citizens and the state, through which they accept the authority of the state in return for benefits that only a sovereign power can provide. However, the basis of this contract (i.e. the nature of the agreement) and the obligations it entails (i.e. its terms) have been the source of profound disagreement. Plato’s Crito contains the earliest form of social contract theory. After his trial for corrupting the youth of Athens, and facing certain death, Socrates explains his refusal to escape from prison to Crito. Socrates argues that by choosing to live in Athens and by enjoying the privileges of being an Athenian citizen, he had, in effect, promised to obey Athenian law. From this perspective, political obligation arises out of the benefits derived from living within an organized community. The obligation to obey the state is based on an implicit promise made by the simple fact that citizens choose to remain within its borders. This argument, however, runs into difficulties. In the first place, it is not easy to demonstrate that natural-born citizens have made a promise or entered into an agreement, even an implicit one. The only citizens who could have made a clear promise, a ‘contract of citizenship’, are naturalized citizens. Further, Socrates’ notion of political obligation is overly unconditional, in that it does not consider how the state is formed or how it behaves. Finally, Socrates appears to have assumed that citizens dissatisfied with one state could easily take up residence in another. Nonetheless the argument from benefit has made a significant impact on the tradition. The social contract theories of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (see Chapter 3) include more conditional bases for political obligation. Thinkers such as Hobbes and Locke were concerned to explain how political authority arose amongst human beings who are morally free and equal. In their view, the right to rule had to be based on the consent of the governed. They explained this by analysing the nature of a hypothetical society without government, a so-called ‘state of nature’. While their portraits of the state of nature varied, both argued that rational individuals would seek to contract out of the

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situation. They therefore suggested that a social contract, through which a common authority could be established and order guaranteed. This contract was clearly the basis of political obligation, implying as it did a duty to respect law and the state. It is important to note that it is unlikely that either Locke or Hobbes believed that the social contract was a historical fact, whose terms could subsequently be scrutinized. Rather, the idea was a philosophical device to reflect on the conditions of individuals and social life to justify the best grounds on which citizens should obey their state. The conclusions they arrived at, however, vary significantly. In Leviathan ([1651] 1968), Hobbes argued that citizens have an absolute obligation to obey political authority, regardless of how government may behave. Partly, this is due to his view of the alternative: Hobbes believed that the existence of any state, however oppressive, is preferable to the existence of no state at all, which would lead to a descent into chaos. His views thus reflect a heightened concern about the dangers of instability and disorder, often reductively explained as resulting from the fear and insecurity he himself experienced during the English Civil War. However, Hobbes also argued that absolute obligation was a result of the contract itself. For him, rational individuals in the state of nature would only agree to give up their natural liberty if they conferred all authority absolutely on one figure, the sovereign. For him, only such a centralization of power could prevent in-fighting and ensure security. As a result, though citizens were obliged to obey their state, the state itself was not subject to any reciprocal obligations. Locke’s ([1690] 1965) account of the origins of political obligation involve the establishment of two contracts. The first, the social contract proper, was undertaken by all the individuals who form a society. In effect, they volunteered to sacrifice a portion of their liberty to secure the order that only a political community can offer. The second contract, or ‘trust’, was undertaken between a society and its government, through which the latter was authorized to protect the natural rights of citizens. This implied that obedience to government was conditional on the state fulfilling its side of the contract. If the state becomes a tyranny against the individual, the individual could exercise the right of rebellion, which is precisely what Locke believed had occurred in the ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688, which brought monarchical absolutism in Britain to an end. However, in Locke’s account, rebellion consists of the removal by a society of its government rather than the dissolution of the social contract and a return to the state of nature. A very different form of social contract theory was developed by Rousseau in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969). Whereas Hobbes and Locke had assumed human beings to be power-seeking and self-interested, respectively, Rousseau held a more neutral view of human nature. For him, humanity was a historical and perfectible creature. We necessarily change and can be made better or worse by the norms, structures and ideas around us. Thus, for him the roots of injustice lay not in the human individual but rather in society itself. As such, his vision of the social contract is his solution to the two principle ills he diagnosed in eighteenth-century society: the authoritarianism of monarchies and the individualism of the liberal opposition. In Rousseau’s view, government should be based on what he called the ‘general will’, reflecting the common interests of society as opposed to the ‘private will’, or selfish wishes of each member. In a sense, Rousseau espoused an orthodox social contract theory in that he said that an individual is bound by the rules of a society, including its general will, only if he himself has consented to be a member of that society. At the same time, however, the general will alone can also be a ground for

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political obligation. By articulating the general will, the state is, in effect, acting in the ‘real’ interests of each of its members. In this way, political obligation can be interpreted as a means of obeying one’s own higher or ‘true’ self, especially as for Rousseau, all citizens must participate in formulating that will democratically. Kant’s and Rawls’s social contract theories complete the tradition’s contribution to the understanding of obligation. Kant follows Hobbes in several ways. First, he does not consider the social contract a historical event. Rather, the contract is a rational justification for state authority that lays out why individuals should obey. Second, following this, the contract is not about actual consent. It is a rational account of why each person already contains the experiences and attributes necessary to see the justification of centralized political power. What differs is that while Hobbes sees this as a logic that plays out mainly for the individual, providing them a reason to obey, Kant sees this as constraining the sovereign. In ‘Theory and Practice’ ([1793] 1991) he argues the contract compels the sovereign to ‘give his laws in such a way that they could have arisen from the united will of a whole people and to regard each subject, insofar as he wants to be a citizen, as if he has joined in voting for such a will’. This means that the sovereign cannot act in ways that ‘a whole people could not possibly give its consent to’. Taking up this Kantian approach, Rawls revitalized the social contract tradition in the late twentieth century, largely stagnated since Kant, by using the idea of a contract to describe an ideal decisionmaking procedure to determine the conception of justice that should govern the basic institutions of liberal democratic societies. For Rawls, the idea of a contracting moment, an ‘original position’ as he termed it, was a fair way to decide the basic terms of liberty and equality that should rule: his Theory of Justice (1971). Social contract theories share the belief that there are rational or moral grounds for obeying state authority. They hold that political obligation is based on individual choice (or can be modelled on it), on voluntary commitment. Such voluntaristic theories are, however, not universally accepted. Some critics argue that many of the obligations to which the individual is subject do not, and often cannot, arise out of contractual agreements. Not only does this apply in most cases to political obligation, but it is even more clear in relation to social duties, like those of children towards parents. In addition, social contract theories are based on individualistic assumptions, implying that society is a human creation or artefact, fashioned by the rational undertakings of independent individuals. This may fundamentally misconceive the nature of society and fail to recognize the degree to which society shapes its members and invests them with duties.

Two alternative theories of obligation There are two principal alternatives to the contractual account of political obligation. The first encompasses theories that are usually described as teleological, from the Greek telos, meaning a purpose or goal. Such theories suggest that the duty of citizens to respect the state and obey its commands is based on the benefits or goods which the state provides, like Plato’s argument above. This can be seen in any suggestion that political obligation arises from the fact that the state acts in the common good or public interest. The most influential teleological theory has been utilitarianism (see p. 22), which implies, in simple terms, that citizens should obey government when and because it strives to achieve ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest number’.

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The second set of theories, however, relate to the idea that membership of a society is somehow ‘natural’, in which case political obligation is a natural duty. This view of political obligation moves away from the idea of voluntary behaviour. A duty is an action that a person is bound to perform for moral reasons; it is not just a morally preferable action. Thus, the debt of gratitude that Socrates claimed he owed Athens did not allow him to resist its laws, even at the cost of his own life. The idea of natural duty has been particularly attractive to conservative thinkers, who have stressed the degree to which all social groups, including political communities, are held together by the recognition of mutual obligations. Conservatives have traditionally shied away from doctrines such as ‘the Rights of Man’, not only because they are overly abstract but also because they treat the individual as pre-social, implying that human beings can be conceived of outside society. By contrast, conservatives have preferred to understand society as organic, and to recognize that it is shaped by internal forces beyond the capacity of any individual to control. Human institutions such as the family, the church and government have not been constructed in accordance with individual wishes but by the forces of natural necessity that help to sustain society itself. Individuals are therefore supported, educated, nurtured and moulded by society, and as a result inherit a broad range of responsibilities, obligations and duties. These include not merely the obligation to obey the law, but wider social duties such as to uphold established authority and, if appropriate, to shoulder the burden of public office. In this way, conservatives argue that the obligation of citizens towards their government has the same character as the duty that children owe their parents. The cause of social duty has also been taken up by socialist and social democratic (see p. 194) theorists. Socialists have traditionally underlined the need for community and cooperation, emphasizing that human beings are essentially sociable creatures. Social duty can therefore be understood as the practical expression of community; it reflects the responsibility a human has towards other members of society. This may, for instance, incline socialists to place heavier responsibilities on the citizen than liberals. These could include the obligation to work for the community, perhaps through public service, and the duty to provide welfare support for those who are not able to look after themselves. A society in which individuals possess only rights but recognize no obligations condemns many to indigence. Such a line of argument is also present among communitarian anarchists. Although classical anarchists such as Proudhon (see p. 34), Bakunin (1814– 76) and Kropotkin (see p. 51) rejected political authority, they nevertheless recognized that a healthy society demands sociable, cooperative and respectful behaviour from its members. This amounts to a theory of ‘social’ obligation that in some ways parallels political obligation.

Rebellion, the limits of obligation and disobedience Political obligation denotes not a duty to obey a particular law but rather the citizen’s duty to respect and obey the state itself. When the limits of political obligation are reached, the citizen is released from a duty to obey the state. However, given the expansive and necessarily coercive nature of state power for most thinkers in the modern Western tradition, this release entails an additional entitlement: the right to rebel. A rebellion is an

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attempt to overthrow state power, usually involving a substantial body of citizens as well as, in most cases, the use of violence. Although any major uprising against government can be described as a rebellion, the term is often used in contrast to revolution to describe the attempt to overthrow a government rather than replace an entire political regime. Rebellion can be justified in different ways. In some cases, the act of rebellion reflects a belief that government does not, and never has, exercised legitimate authority. This can be seen, for example, in the case of colonial rule, where government amounts to little more than domination: it is imposed by force and maintained by systematic coercion. The anti-colonial uprisings in Asia and Africa during the post-1945 period did not thus need to be justified in terms of political obligation. Quite simply, no duty to obey the colonial ruler had ever been acknowledged, so no limit to obligation had been reached. In the case of the American Revolution of 1776, however, the rebellion of the thirteen former British colonies was justified explicitly in terms of a right of rebellion rooted in a theory of political obligation. The American revolutionaries drew heavily on Locke’s ideas in Two Treatises on Civil Government ([1690] 1965). Locke had emphasized that political obligation was conditional on respect for natural rights. Whensoever therefore the Legislative shall transgress this fundamental Rule of Society; and either by Ambition, Fear, Folly or Corruption, endeavor to grasp themselves, or put into the hands of any other an Absolute Power over the Lives, Liberties, and Estates of the People; By this breach of Trust they forfeit the Power, the People had put into their hands, for quite contrary ends, and it devolves to the People, who have a Right to resume their original Liberty. On these grounds he gave support to the English ‘Glorious Revolution’ that established a constitutional monarchy under William and Mary. The American Declaration of Independence was imbued with classic social contract principles. In the first place, it portrays government as a human artefact, created by men to serve their purposes; the powers of government are therefore derived from the ‘consent of the governed’. However, the contract on which government is based is very specific: human beings are endowed with certain ‘inalienable rights’ including the right to ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’, and it is the purpose of government to secure and protect these rights. Clearly, therefore, political obligation is not absolute; citizens have an obligation to obey government only so long as it respects these fundamental rights. When government becomes an ‘absolute despotism’, the Declaration of Independence states that ‘it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it, and to institute a new government’. In other words, the limits of political obligation have been reached and citizens have a right, indeed a duty, to rebel against such a government and to ‘provide new guards for their future security’. Such Lockean principles are rooted very deeply in liberal ideas and assumptions. Social contract theories imply that since the state is created by an agreement among rational individuals it must serve the interests of all citizens and so be neutral or impartial. By the same token, if the state fails in its fundamental task of protecting individual rights, it fails all its citizens and not just certain groups or sections. Conservatives, by contrast, have been far less willing to acknowledge that political obligation is conditional. Authoritarian conservatives, following Hobbes, warn that any challenge to

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established authority risks the complete collapse of orderly existence. In fact, Hobbes suggests that the only way for a people to exit the contract is if the sovereign fails to maintain the security of the state and order breaks down. This of course is circular though: the state must fail for obligation to end. This is what led Joseph de Maistre (see p. 140), a fierce critic of the French Revolution, to suggest that politics is based on a complete subordination to ‘the master’. In this view, the very notion of a limit to political obligation is dangerous. Marxists and anarchists have a very different attitude towards political obligation. Classical Marxists rejected the idea of a social contract, believing instead that the state is an instrument of class oppression. The function of the state is therefore not to protect individual rights so much as to defend or advance the interests of the ‘ruling class’. Indeed, Marxists have traditionally regarded social contract theories as ‘ideological’, in the sense that they serve class interests by concealing the contradictions on which capitalism and all class societies are based. In this light, the notion of political obligation is a myth or delusion whose only purpose is to reconcile the working masses to their continued exploitation. Although anarchists may be prepared to accept the notion of ‘social’ obligation, the idea of ‘political’ obligation is, in their view, entirely unfounded. If the state is an oppressive, exploitative and coercive body, the idea that individuals may have a moral obligation to accept its authority is quite absurd. Political obligation, in other words, amounts to nothing more than servitude. The question of the limits of political obligation, which asks ‘Why should I obey the law?’, is deeply connected to another key question for political theory, which turns this question on its head: ‘What justification is there for breaking the law?’ This raises the issue of what is called civil disobedience, law-breaking that is justified by reference to religious, moral or political principles. Civil disobedience has a long heritage, drawing on writers such as Henry David Thoreau (1817–62) and the example of political leaders such as Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr. (1929–68). Under Gandhi’s influence, non-violent civil disobedience became a powerful weapon in the campaign for Indian independence, finally granted in 1947. In the early 1960s, Martin Luther King Jr. adopted similar political tactics in the struggle for Black civil rights in the American South. Civil disobedience is an overt and public act: it aims to break a law to ‘make a point’ rather than to get away with it. Civil disobedience is thus distinguished from other criminal acts by its motives, which are principled, in that they aim to bring about a legal or political change. It does not merely serve the interests of the law-breaker. Indeed, in many cases it is precisely the willing acceptance of the penalties which law-breaking involves that gives civil disobedience its moral authority and emotional power. Second, civil disobedience is non-violent, a fact which helps to underline the moral character of the act itself. Gandhi was particularly insistent on this, calling his form of non-violent non-cooperation satyagraha, literally meaning ‘defence of, and by, the truth’. Civil disobedience is thus distinct from the political law-breaking that takes the form of popular revolt, terrorism and revolution. In some cases, civil disobedience may involve the breaking of laws that are themselves considered to be wicked or unjust, its aim being to protest against the law in question and achieve its removal. In other cases, however, it involves breaking the law to protest a wider injustice, even though the law being broken may not itself be objectionable. An example

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of the former would be the burning of draft cards or the refusal to pay that proportion of taxation that is devoted to military purposes, forms of protest adopted by opponents of the Vietnam War in the United States. Similarly, Sikhs in the UK openly flouted the law compelling motorcyclists to wear crash helmets because it threatened their religious duty to wear turbans. On the other hand, Thoreau, who refused all payment of tax in an act of protest against the Mexican–American War of the 1840s and the continuation of slavery in the South, is an example of the latter. Whether designed to attack a law or advance a wider cause, all acts of civil disobedience are justified by asserting a distinction between law and justice. At the heart of civil disobedience is the belief that the individual, group or some other non-political entity is the ultimate moral authority; to believe otherwise would be to imply that all laws are just and to reduce justice to legality. The distinction between law and justice has usually, in the modern period, been based on the doctrine of human rights, asserting as it does that there is a set of higher moral principles against which human law can be judged and to which it should conform. Individuals are therefore justified in breaking the law to highlight violations of human rights or to challenge laws that themselves threaten human rights (see Chapter 7). Other justifications for civil disobedience focus on the nature of the political process and the lack of alternative – legal – opportunities for expressing views and exerting pressure. For example, few would fail to sympathize with the actions of those in Nazi Germany who broke the law by assisting Jews. This applies not only because of the morally objectionable nature of the laws concerned but also because in a fascist dictatorship no form of legal protest was possible. Similarly, the use of civil disobedience to gain votes for women in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries can be justified by the simple fact that, deprived of the right to vote, women had no other way of making their voices heard. Civil disobedience campaigns were also used to achieve Black suffrage in the American South in the 1960s and in apartheid-era South Africa. Even when universal suffrage exists it can perhaps be argued that the ballot box alone does not ensure that individual and minority rights are respected. A permanent minority, such as the Catholic community in Northern Ireland, may turn to civil disobedience, even though they may possess formal political rights. Finally, it is sometimes argued that democratic and electoral politics may simply be too slow or time-consuming to provide an adequate means of exerting political pressure when human life itself is under imminent threat. This is, for example, the case made out by anti-nuclear campaigners and by environmental activists, both of whom believe that the urgency of their cause overrides the almost trivial obligation to obey the law. Since the 1960s civil disobedience has become more widespread and politically acceptable. In some respects, it is now regarded as a constitutional act that aims to correct a specific wrong and is prepared to conform to a set of established rules, notably about peaceful non-violence. Civil disobedience is, for example, now accepted by many as a legitimate weapon available to pressure groups. Sit-ins or sit-down protests help to attract publicity and demonstrate the strength of protesters’ convictions and may promote public sympathy. Of course, such acts may also be counterproductive, making the individuals or group concerned appear irresponsible. In these cases, the question of civil disobedience becomes a tactical rather than a moral one. Critics of the principle nevertheless argue

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that it brings with it several insidious dangers. The first is that as civil disobedience becomes widespread it threatens to undermine respect for legal and democratic means of exerting influence. At a deeper level, however, the spread of civil disobedience may ultimately threaten both social order and political stability by eroding the fear of illegality. When people cease obeying the law automatically and only do so for personal choice, the authority of law itself is undermined. As a result, acts of civil disobedience may gradually weaken the principles on which a regime is based and so be linked to rebellion and even revolution.

CONCLUSION All of this goes to show that the problems of law, order and obligation in modern and contemporary political thought range over broad sets of interconnected and overlapping issues. Part of this is because of the disciplinary and historical context. These questions bring political thought substantially into discussion with legal theory: complex debates with their own complexities beyond the present discussion. Similarly, questions of law, order and obligation are in themselves foundational. They concern what Rawls called the ‘basic institutions’ of our political society and its fundamental way of distributing benefits and burdens, on the one hand, and structuring relations between individuals and between states and individuals on the other. Similarly, in many ways the concepts of law and obligation, which bookend this chapter, also flow from basic understandings of order, which take us back to that foundational bugbear: human nature. It is perhaps because of the deeply foundational, and thus often circular, nature of these debates that law has been less of a concern in twentieth- and twenty-firstcentury normative political theory (especially in the liberal tradition). The rule of law is a relatively settled norm in that tradition, and debates over the nature of law have moved more into legal theory. However, two concerns have remained. First, critical understandings of the law from the perspectives of critical theory and poststructuralism have concerned theorists attempting to understand law’s consequences on twentieth- and twenty-first-century politics. For example, Jacques Derrida’s ‘The Force of Law’ (1992) has argued that the modern institution of law has an unstable relationship with our ideals of justice. Often justice requires the overcoming of law, and law is often a fetter on pursuing justice. Second, normative theorists have become very concerned with some areas of law and the justification of particular legal frameworks. For example intellectual property rights, environmental regulation, ethno-cultural diversity and women’s rights (among others). In contrast, since the 1970s and John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice, justice has arguably been one of the central concepts of liberal political thought. For Rawls, justice (as social justice) was the first question of a political order and the most basic issue to address in deciding its foundational institutions. Further, he argued that a consideration of justice could lead to a fully developed normative theory of ‘right’ (political order) (see Chapter 11). Such a position has always been sceptically received by more critical positions. Interestingly, in recent years it has also come under attack from within the liberal tradition from selfdescribed ‘realists’ such as Bernard Williams and Raymond Geuss.

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FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS CHARLES-LOUIS DE SECONDAT, BARON DE MONTESQUIEU’S THE SPIRIT OF THE LAWS ([1750] 1989), BKS 2–3, 11, 26 The Spirit of the Laws ([1750] 1989) belongs to the rich early modern and modern tradition of political theory on law. During these centuries, law was a central topic of reflection in political thought in a way no longer true in contemporary political theory. This is because laws, natural and positive, were seen as fundamental to the state and politics generally. The keen focus on these broad questions in these periods thus put the institution of law in the central focus. Montesquieu’s text is one of the key contributions to this tradition. The text contains a wealth of important reflections on government, political liberty, law and the principle for which he is primarily known: the rule of law. His general aim in the text is to explain the generation of human laws and legal-political institutions and to understand the variety of factors that affect their development and stable functioning (e.g. bk. 26). Therefore, he frames his account of law in relation to his infamous theory of the separation of powers between popular, aristocratic and monarchial forces (bks 2–3). For Montesquieu, we understand much when we view law in relation to these social forces and how they participate in the politics of modern societies and we understand good government when we realize it must separate these powers in relation to law. After this, it should be no surprise that this text belongs to the development of liberal, constitutional thought. Political liberty is a fundamental value for Montesquieu (bk. 11) guiding the theory and practice of law.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘The intermediate, subordinate, and dependent powers constitute the nature of monarchical government; I mean of that in which a single person governs by fundamental laws. I said the intermediate, subordinate, and dependent powers. And indeed, in monarchies the prince is the source of all power, political and civil. These fundamental laws necessarily suppose the intermediate channels through which the power flows: for if there be only the momentary and capricious will of a single person to govern the state, nothing can be fixed, and of course there is no fundamental law.’ 2. ‘I beg that no one will be offended with what I have been saying; my observations are founded on the unanimous testimony of historians. I am not ignorant that virtuous princes are so very rare; but I venture to affirm that in a monarchy it is extremely difficult for the people to be virtuous.’ 3. ‘In every government there are three sorts of power: the executive in respect to things dependent on the law of executive in regard to matters that depend on the civil law.’ 4. ‘things that depend on principles of civil right must not be ruled by principles of political right’.

Reading questions 1. What different sorts of law does Montesquieu discuss? What are the relations between them? 2. How do different forms of government relate to law differently? 3. How do the different branches of government relate to law differently? 4. How does political liberty guide the development of law?

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QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What are the key features of the rule of law,

and why has the principle been so highly valued? yy What are the natural and positive definitions of law? On what grounds have they been criticized? yy What is the relationship between law and freedom?

yy What’s the difference between conceiving order as social control and seeing it as natural harmony? yy What divides contractual theories of obligation from alternatives? yy How has rebellion been justified? yy How do theories of civil disobedience attempt to justify law-breaking?

FURTHER READING Bingham, T. The Rule of Law (2011). A clear and very readable defence of the rule of law as the best means for securing peace and cooperation, which reflects on the history of the principle and the conditions most conducive for its operation. Horton, J. Political Obligation (2010). A thorough and perceptive assessment of the major theories of political obligation, which

explores the strengths and weaknesses of each and takes account of contemporary issues and perspectives. Wacks, R. Philosophy of Law: A Very Short Introduction (2006). A clear and concise exploration of the nature of law and its role in our lives, which looks at key questions behind legal theory and law’s relationship to justice, morality and democracy.

CHAPTER 7

THE PROBLEM OF CITIZENSHIP: FREEDOM AND RIGHTS Introduction156

INTRODUCTION

While concepts such as power, sovereignty and the state launched the modern Western tradition, the problem of what citizenship entails, requires and entitles one to became the dominant question of modern political thought by the nineteenth century. Together, this illustrates that it is the larger question of the proper Freedom165 relationship between the individual •• Liberty, its nature and and state that has concerned thinkers limits166 since antiquity. In Ancient Greece, this •• Negative freedom 169 relationship was embodied in the ‘citizen’, •• Positive freedom 171 literally a member of the state. Citizenship Rights173 was restricted to a small minority living in these states (in effect, native, free-born •• Legal and moral rights 174 propertied males). The modern concept of •• The expanding nature of citizenship is, by contrast, founded on the rights: Natural, human principles of liberty/freedom and universal and beyond 175 rights. Once again, the liberal tradition Conclusion181 looms large. Liberal, and to a certain extent republican, thought offers the main accounts of these principles that lead into modern understandings of citizenship. As a result, the central liberal value, freedom, has a guiding role in developing the key mechanism of liberal citizenship: rights. Citizenship157 •• What is citizenship? 158 •• Social or active citizenship?160 •• Universal citizenship and diversity162

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The principle of freedom has customarily been treated by liberal political thinkers as a guiding value for the limits of the state and the goods of individual agency. Because humans require freedom, states must be limited, and the rights of citizenship clear. Yet the wide valuation of freedom is matched by confusion about the term’s meaning. Is freedom, for instance, an unconditional good, or does it have drawbacks? How much freedom should individuals and groups enjoy? At the heart of such questions lies a debate about what it means to be ‘free’. Does freedom mean being left alone to act as one chooses, or fulfilment, self-realization or personal development? The roots of the modern concept of rights lie in seventeenth-century debates about natural rights, which developed into the twentieth century doctrine of human rights. However, there is considerable debate over what the term ‘rights’ refers to. For instance, what does it mean to say that somebody ‘has a right’? On what basis can they be said to enjoy it? And how far, and to whom, does this doctrine extend? Both questions are linked to the idea of citizenship. However, like freedom and rights the concept of citizenship invariably carries heavy theoretical baggage. Is the ‘good citizen’, for example, a self-reliant individual who makes few demands on his or her community, or is it a person who participates in political life? Moreover, is the idea of universal citizenship any longer applicable in the light of growing diversity? This chapter’s consideration of citizenship, freedom and rights is central to our examination of political theory as it explains the model of individuality in modern liberal constitutional states.

CITIZENSHIP The concept of citizenship is rooted in Ancient Greek political thought. Citizenship has also been one of the central themes of the republican political tradition (see p. 107). In its simplest form, a ‘citizen’ is a member of a political community endowed with a set of rights and obligations (see Chapter 7). Citizenship therefore represents a relationship between the individual and the state, in which the two are bound together by reciprocal rights and obligations. However, the precise nature of this relationship is the subject of considerable dispute. For example, some view citizenship as a legal status that can be defined objectively, while others see it as an identity, a sense of loyalty or belonging which require a subjective attachment from each citizen. The most contentious question, however, relates to the precise nature of citizen’s rights and obligations, and the balance between the two. Although citizenship often appears to be ‘above politics’ in the sense that most, if not all, theorists are prepared to endorse it, in practice there are competing concepts of citizenship. The most important of these have been social citizenship and active citizenship. Finally, the emergence of modern pluralistic societies has led some to question whether the doctrine of universal citizenship is still relevant in the emancipation of disadvantaged groups.

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What is citizenship? The traditional definition of the citizen is usually ‘a member of a political community’. However, political thinkers have long realized that this answer is severely limited as it neither clarifies what membership is or what type of group a political community constitutes. This section is properly concerned with the former question of membership, while Chapter 9 addresses political community. One prominent focus in Western political thought is to clarify citizenship by defining its formal, legal substance, usually by reference to the specific rights and obligations members have. ‘Citizens’ can in this way be distinguished from non-citizens. The most fundamental right of citizenship is thus the right to live and work in a country, something which ‘aliens’ or ‘foreign citizens’ may or may not be permitted to do, and then only under certain conditions and for a limited period. Citizens may also be allowed to vote, stand for election and enter certain occupations, notably military or state service, which may not be open to noncitizens. However, legal citizenship only designates a formal status, without indicating that the citizen feels that he or she is a member of a political community with any attachment to its institutions or their co-citizens. In that sense, citizenship must always have a subjective or psychological component: a frame of mind, a sense of loyalty, and a feeling of belonging to the state in some way. The mere possession of legal rights does not ensure that individuals will feel themselves to be citizens. Members of groups that feel alienated from their state, perhaps because of social disadvantage or racial discrimination, can be said to be denied being ‘full citizens’, even though they may enjoy a range of formal entitlements. Not uncommonly, such people regard themselves as ‘second-class citizens’. While citizenship surely entails such formal and psychological dimensions, there has undoubtedly citizenship been a strong tendency in Western political thought to understand it as the capacity to enjoy a set of rights. The classic contribution to the study of citizenship rights was undertaken by T. H. Marshall in Citizenship and Social Class ([1950] 1997). Marshall defined citizenship as ‘full membership of a community’ and attempted to outline how it was achieved. Though modelled exclusively on the UK’s political history, Marshall’s analysis has had far broader influence in categorizing various types of citizenship rights. In Marshall’s view, the first rights to develop were ‘civil rights’, broadly defined as ‘rights necessary for individual freedom’. These include freedom of speech, assembly, movement, conscience, the right to equality before the law, to own property, enter into contracts and so on. Civil rights are therefore rights exercised within civil society, and their existence depends on the establishment of limited government that respects the autonomy of the individual. Second, there are ‘political rights’ that provide the individual with the opportunity to participate in political life. The central political rights are the right to vote, to stand for election and to hold public office. The provision of political rights clearly requires the development of universal suffrage, political equality and democratic government. Finally, Marshall identified a range of ‘social rights’ that guarantee a minimum social status. These rights are diverse but, in Marshall’s opinion, include the right to basic economic welfare, social security and, rather vaguely, the right ‘to live the life of a civilized being according to the standards prevailing in society’. Marshall’s attempt to break down citizenship into three ‘bundles of rights’ – civil, political and social – has nevertheless been criticized. Political conservatives, for example, have attacked the idea of social rights (discussed below in connection with social citizenship).

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In addition, Marshall’s list may be limited. Although he included the right to own property under civil rights, Marshall did not include a broader range of economic rights demanded by the trade union movement, such as the right to union membership, the right to strike and picket, and possibly the right to exercise some form of control within the workplace. Feminist theorists (see p. 308) have argued that full citizenship should also take account of gender inequality and grant women’s rights and, more specifically, reproduction rights (the right to contraception, the right to abortion, etc.). Similarly, multicultural theorists have argued for group-differentiated rights to ensure that minority citizens can enjoy all the rights of citizenship without being hampered by their cultural difference. Finally, because Marshall’s work was developed with the nation state in mind, some argue it failed to understand the growing significance of the international dimension of citizenship, ‘global citizenship’ (see p. 160), though this point’s significance can be overstated. Marshall’s understanding of citizenship tends to portray it as entitlements, and his concern is defining those entitlements. However, only seeing citizenship in this way is very limited as it necessarily makes demands of the individual in terms of duties and responsibilities. To some extent, the obligations of the citizen can be said to match and, perhaps, balance the rights of citizenship. For example, the citizen’s right to enjoy a sphere of privacy surely implies an obligation to respect the privacy of fellow citizens. Similarly, political rights could be said to entail not merely the right to participate in political life but the duty to do so. In Ancient Greece, this was reflected in the obligation of citizens to hold public office if selected by lot or rota. In modern societies, it can be found in the obligation to undertake jury service and, in countries such as Australia, Belgium and Italy, the legal obligation to vote. Such duties and obligations must be underpinned by what republican theorists call civic virtue, a sense of loyalty and a willing acceptance of the responsibilities of living within a community. Civic virtue is an active engagement with the political community and a desire to pursue the common good. This is why citizenship is frequently linked with education: civic virtue does not develop naturally but, like an understanding of the rights of citizenship, must be taught. In a wide range of countries, ‘citizenship education’ is thus a significant feature of public education. Finally, defining citizenship must recognize that citizenship is merely one of several identities which the individual possesses. In A New Politics of Identity (2008) Bhikhu Parekh has argued that our understanding of political citizenship as identity must always appreciate that it sits in relation to a host of other identities, including personal (individual identity); social, such as a gender, cultural or racial identity; and our human identity. This acknowledges that citizens have a broader range of loyalties and responsibilities than simply their nation state. Moreover, citizenship may not always correspond with national identity. In multinational states such as the UK it may be possible for each constituent nation to foster a sense of patriotic loyalty, but at the same time for a unifying civic identity to survive. This issue has been a persistent topic in theories of multinationalism. In the same way, racial, ethnic and cultural groups possess their own identities and make specific demands on their members. By acknowledging that the individual’s relationship to the state is merely one of several meaningful identities, states can be said to subscribe to the notion of ‘limited citizenship’. These other areas of life are, and should remain, ‘non-political’. By contrast, as we will see in Chapter 9’s discussion of nationalism, it often demands the subsumption of all other identities beneath the national.

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THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL CITIZENSHIP The idea that people are ‘citizens of the world’ has a history that can be traced back, through Kant (see p. 230) and other Enlightenment thinking, to the Stoics of Ancient Greece. However, for most of Western history, the notion of world citizenship has had a moral, rather than political, character. It argued for a belief in a common humanity as the most important form of community, the central assumption of cosmopolitan thought (see p. 235). The emergence of ‘accelerated’ globalization from the 1980s onwards nevertheless made it possible to think of political belonging in global terms. However, whereas national citizenship has a formal and legal meaning, rooted in membership of a specific political community and state, global citizenship lacks world government. The term global citizenship is therefore, in some sense, always normative. As a normative idea, global citizenship has taken three forms. First, on the minimal conception, global citizenship is little more than one consequence of globalization. We are global citizens in the sense that, living in an interconnected world, our actions increasingly affect and are affected by people from around the world. The second notion of global citizenship is founded on the doctrine

of human rights, which implies that people have rights and reciprocal duties that bind them to all people in the world. Whatever else global citizens are, they are bearers of human rights (Dower 2003). Global citizenship, in this sense, became meaningful through the establishment of a body of international human rights, centred on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights founded by the United Nations in 1948. The third conception of global citizenship implies that people are not just passive holders of human rights, but have a duty to be politically engaged and active in global affairs. In this view, global citizens are people who act to promote human rights globally. Many have argued that each of these conceptions of global citizenship is flawed. The minimal conception fails to explain how the fact of interconnectedness generates moral obligations. The idea that we are global citizens by bearing human rights is undoubtedly more substantial, but it is undermined by the fact that international human rights amount to little more than moral claims and lack enforceability. Finally, the activist conception of global citizenship is brought into question by the tiny proportion of the world’s population to whom it could be applied.

Social or active citizenship? The idea of social citizenship arose out of the writings of T. H. Marshall and the emphasis he placed on social rights as a mechanism for social equality. For Marshall, citizenship was a universal model of political entitlement enjoyed by all members of the community and therefore demanded equal rights and entitlements. This was particularly evident in the stress he placed on the relationship between citizenship and the achievement of social equality. In Marshall’s view, citizenship is ultimately a social status. Citizens must enjoy freedom from poverty, ignorance and despair if they are to participate fully in their community, an idea embodied in the concept of social rights. Marshall therefore believed that citizenship is incompatible with class inequalities typically found in a capitalist economic system; citizenship and social class are ‘opposing principles’. In this, he is paradigmatic of the modern liberal tradition (p. 280).

The Problem of Citizenship: Freedom and Rights

It is important to clarify the impact of these ideas on political discourse. This requires, in this section, shifting focus. During the twentieth century, social citizenship came to be more widely accepted in liberal and socialist thinkers and political movements, and the notion of social rights became central to political debate. Civil rights movements no longer confined themselves to legal demands, but readily addressed social issues. For instance, from the 1960s onwards the US civil rights movement campaigned for urban development and improved job and educational opportunities for African Americans, as well as for their right to vote and hold office. Groups such as women, ethnic minorities, the poor and the unemployed, came to regard themselves as ‘second-class citizens’ because social inequality prevents their full participation in the community. Moreover, the inclusion in the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948 of a battery of social rights invested the idea of social citizenship with the authority of international law. Nevertheless, the principal means through which social citizenship was established was by the progressive expansion of the welfare state. In Marshall’s (1963) view, social rights were inextricably bound up with welfare provision and the capacity of the welfare state to ensure all citizens enjoy a ‘modicum of economic welfare and security’. The principal advocates of social citizenship have been social democrats, socialists and modern liberals. They have insisted on the vital need for ‘positive’ rights, delivered through government intervention, in addition to traditional ‘negative’ rights such as freedom of speech and freedom of assembly (the next section discusses negative and positive freedom). The case for social rights is based on the belief that economic inequality is more a product of the capitalist economy than natural differences amongst individuals. For modern liberals, social disadvantages such as homelessness, unemployment and sickness both thwart personal development and undermine citizenship. Full citizenship therefore requires equality of opportunity (see Chapter 11), a level playing field for all individuals. Social democrats have regarded economic and social rights not merely as legitimate rights of citizenship but as the very foundations of civilized life. Individuals who lack food, shelter or a means of material subsistence will not enjoy a right to enjoy freedom of speech or freedom of religious worship. The sternest critics of social citizenship have been on the political right. Right-wing libertarians (see p. 260) have been firm opponents of the idea of social rights and believe that social welfare is fundamentally misconceived. Some have argued that the doctrine of rights and entitlements, and in particular social rights, encourages citizens to have an unrealistic view of the capacities of government. The result has been a relentless growth in the responsibilities of government, which, by pushing up taxes and widening budget deficits, has severely damaged economic prospects. This view has been advanced in terms of an alternative model of citizenship, sometimes using the language of ‘active citizenship’. The idea of the ‘active citizen’ is originally a republican language in Western modernity (with classical origins) that was taken on by the New Right model of citizenship, outlined first in the United States but soon taken up by politicians in Europe and elsewhere. However, since the New Right has drawn on two contrasting traditions – economic liberalism and social conservatism – active citizenship has two faces. On the one hand, it represents a classical liberal emphasis on self-reliance and ‘standing on one’s own two feet’; on the other, it underlines a traditionally conservative stress on duty and responsibility. The liberal New Right, or neoliberalism, is committed to rigorous individualism; its overriding goal is to ‘roll back the frontiers of the state’. As noted earlier, in its view the

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relationship between the individual and the state has become dangerously unbalanced. Government intervention in economic and social life has allowed the state to dwarf, even dominate, the citizen, robbing him or her of liberty and self-respect. The essence of active citizenship, from this perspective, is enterprise, hard work and self-reliance. Neoliberals believe that individual responsibility makes both economic and moral sense. In economic terms, active citizenship relieves the burden that social welfare imposes on public finances and community resources. Self-reliant individuals will work hard because they know that there is no welfare state to pick up the bill. In moral terms, active citizenship promotes dignity and self-respect because individuals are forced to support themselves and their families. However, it is questionable whether self-reliance can in any proper sense be said to constitute a theory of citizenship. The ‘good citizen’ may certainly be hard-working and independent, but is it possible to suggest that these essentially ‘private’ qualities are the ones on which citizenship is based? Nonetheless, such positions have argued that Marshall’s ‘citizenship of entitlement’ has created a society in which individuals know only their rights and do not recognize their duties or responsibilities. Such a society is fraught with the dangers of permissiveness and social fragmentation. Unrestrained liberty will lead to selfishness, greed and a lack of respect for both social institutions and fellow human beings. This concern about the erosion of civic engagement through a focus on rights rather than responsibilities has attracted wider support since the 1980s. It has produced a shift in thinking that has, for example, resulted in the replacement of higher education grants with a system of student loans in a growing number of countries, including the United States, Australia and the UK, and the introduction of tuition fees for university students, in both cases justified by the aim of strengthening civil obligations. Students, in this view, have a duty to pay for education; they do not merely have a right of access to it. This version of active citizenship also has its critics. Some have argued that it is in danger of replacing one imbalance with another: the emphasis on civic duty may displace a concern for rights and entitlements. Others point out that, just as social citizenship is linked to the attempt to modify class inequalities, active citizenship may be turned into a philosophy of ‘pay your way’, which reinforces existing inequalities. Finally, republican thinkers have pointed out that it is very different from the original republican models of active citizenship, that were not about economic but political contributions. All of this illustrates the divisive space that rights hold in understandings of citizenship.

Universal citizenship and diversity The conceptions of citizenship that have dominated the intellectual and institutional contexts in the Western tradition have largely been liberal and republican. As a result, regardless of the rights they highlight, they are united in seeing citizenship as defined by its universality. The universality of citizenship takes several senses. At its most abstract level, it involves the idea that citizenship as a status is meant to supersede all other particular features of any person. This means that whatever other identities, beliefs or personal features they have, each citizen is first and foremost a citizen. In one sense, this has a deeply emancipatory character. Whatever social and group differences exist among a population, and whatever inequalities of wealth, status and power these bring, citizenship gives everyone the same status within the political community. This has empowered disenfranchised groups to demand better and more equal treatment. For instance, the

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civil rights movements that sprang up from the 1960s onwards around disadvantaged groups, such as women, ethnic and religious minorities, gays and lesbians, and disabled people, often articulated their demands in the language of universal citizenship. If these groups were, or felt themselves to be, ‘second-class citizens’, the solution was to establish full citizenship, the right to equal treatment and participation. Iris Marion Young (2011) has notably argued that this conception of citizenship as universality depends on a particular understanding of equality. To be an equal citizen is to be treated the same as others. Universality is about sameness. This has two senses for Young. First, when we determine how to treat people the same, we do so based on what they have in common, not how they differ from each other. So our understanding of what citizens require, are entitled to and should contribute is informed by a general image of humanity devoid of social differences. Second, universal treatment informed by this image should be construed as equal treatment. That is a set of laws and rules that are the same for all and apply to everyone in the same way. In so far as people are classified as citizens, each is entitled to the same rights and expected to shoulder the same obligations as every other citizen. Laws and rules are blind, as a result, to individuals and group differences. For Young, while understanding citizenship in universal terms has some emancipatory advantages, it also creates new forms of oppression. Specifically, a general model of citizenship demands homogeneity. It requires everyone to understand themselves and act uniformly in the political realm and it thereby creates a firm hierarchy between their political identity and all other aspects of their existence. This is problematic in two ways. First, it excludes the various social identities key to our understandings of ourselves. As Young notes in ‘Polity and Group Difference: A Critique of the Ideal of Universal Citizenship’ (1989): People necessarily and properly consider public issues in terms influenced by their situated experience and perception of social relations. Different social groups have different needs, cultures, histories, experiences, and perceptions of social relations which influence their interpretation of the meaning and consequences of policy proposals and influence the form of their political reasoning. A universal model of citizenship provides inclusion by demanding homogeneity. Second, this demand has disproportionate effects on groups suffering from various inequalities. As Young again notes, ‘In a society where some groups are privileged while others are oppressed, insisting that all citizens should leave behind their particular affiliations and experiences to adopt a general point of view serves only to reinforce that privilege; for the perspectives and interests of the privileged will tend to dominate this unified public.’ For Young, a universal model of citizenship means not only that it will not address the inequality of oppressed groups but that it will reinforce those disadvantages. When politics ignores race, gender and other group differences they ensure equal treatment is constructed according to the norms and values of dominant groups, meaning that systemic forms of inequality may continue unchecked. Universal citizenship may thus help to perpetuate disadvantage and unequal participation rather than redress them. Young’s criticism has often taken on a larger form in political theory as a criticism of liberalism itself. For example, many critics connect universal citizenship as a model to

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the intellectually and institutionally influential and liberal idea of a distinction between ‘private’ and ‘public’ life, in which differences between people – linked, for instance, to factors such as gender, ethnicity and religion – are seen as ‘private’ matters and so are irrelevant to a person’s ‘public’ status. As a result, liberalism is portrayed by Charles Taylor as ‘difference-blind’: it treats those factors that distinguish people from one another as secondary, because all of us share the same core identity as individuals and citizens. In ‘The Politics of Recognition’ (1992) Taylor criticizes the procedural approach to liberalism, one that focuses on uniformity, formality and impersonal rules, as the source of its inability to recognize the diverse forms of identity that motivate contemporary politics. As a result, political thinkers from many traditions have championed alternative approaches to citizenship. Taylor popularized the language of recognition by arguing for a limited form of multicultural recognition that requires states and majorities to approach minority groups with a presumption of the value and importance of their social identity. More deeply, Young (2011) championed the notion of ‘differentiated’ citizenship as a means of taking account of group differences. For her, alongside universal rights recognition requires ‘special rights’ that apply only to specific categories of people. One basis for special rights, increasingly widely accepted in modern societies, is linked to biological factors, as in the case of women’s rights (see Chapters 11–12), and rights for persons with physical/mental disabilities or the elderly. In fact, the most systematic attempt to reconcile citizenship with diversity has come from multicultural political theory. The focus here has tended to be on minority rights, special group-specific measures for accommodating national and ethnic differences as a means to diversify citizenship. In his liberal theory of multicultural rights, Will Kymlicka (1995) argued for three kinds of minority rights: self-government rights, polyethnic rights and representation rights. Self-government rights belong, Kymlicka argued, to what he calls national minorities, peoples who are territorially concentrated, possess a shared language and are characterized by a ‘meaningful way of life across the full range of human activities’. This applies to Indigenous peoples found in many parts of the world, sometimes called ‘First Nations’ (see p. 225). In these cases, the right to selfgovernment should involve the devolution of political power, usually through federalism, to political units that are substantially controlled by the national minority. Polyethnic rights are rights that help ethnic groups and religious minorities, that are the product of immigration, to fully enjoy citizenship without their cultures negatively disadvantaging them. They would, for instance, provide the basis for legal exemptions, such as the exemption of Jews and Muslims from animal slaughtering laws, the exemption of Sikh men from wearing motorcycle helmets, and exemption of Muslim girls from school dress codes. Finally, special representation rights address the under-representation of minority or disadvantaged groups in education and senior positions in political life. Such rights involve ‘positive’ discrimination, which compensate for past discrimination or continuing cultural subordination. Their justification is not only that they ensure full and equal participation but also that they ensure public policy reflects the interests of all groups and not merely the traditionally dominant. While multiculturalism gained an established position in political theory in the 1990s and 2000s, multicultural rights have proven controversial. For example, in Culture and Equality (2002), Brian Barry questioned whether the ‘deep diversity’ that a recognition of minority rights would lead to is compatible with liberal polity. Most clearly, this is because

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the value pluralism that lies at the heart of multiculturalism may legitimize controversial cultural practices, such as female circumcision, that are illiberal. In such circumstances, liberals tend to place respect for human rights and civil liberties above concerns about group identity and traditional values. Polyethnic rights, moreover, have the drawback that, as they may require legal or civic adjustments to be made to take account of cultural distinctiveness, they weaken political cohesion. On this basis, forms of religious dress and religious symbols have been banned from schools in France and elsewhere, to preserve the distinction between church and state. Similarly, feminist political thinkers, such as Susan Okin (see p. XXX), have argued that multiculturalism’s empowerment of cultural minorities undermines the project of political equality found in feminism. In Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women (1999), Okin argued that multicultural rights empower the elites of minority groups, who are usually men, to maintain cultural structures of domination over women.

FREEDOM The modern concept of freedom is central to understanding Western citizenship. As the arguably central principle of liberal political thought, itself the dominant intellectual tradition in theorizing citizenship, freedom is a key source of constraint on and motivation for citizenship. That is, citizenship is ultimately meant to ensure a free political community. The deep connection between the concept of rights, which itself is tied to freedom, and citizenship is indicative of this. However, freedom is no less contested than other political concepts. Fundamentally, debates over freedom concern its nature and limits, and these repeat concerns in citizenship over whether citizenship is about entitlements and social equality, or an obligation to active participation in the political community. In academic discourse, the concept of freedom is shared between social scientists, philosophers and political theorists. In philosophy, freedom is usually examined as a property of the will. Do individuals possess ‘free will’ or are their actions determined? In economics and sociology, freedom is a social relationship. To what extent are individuals able to exercise choice and enjoy privileges in relation to others? Political theorists mix these abstract and situated approaches. Freedom is a normative principle, clearly, but it is one that manifests in specific social relations and institutional structures. In this sense, political theorists are interested in the normative ideal of freedom and its consequences on sociopolitical life. In this context, political theorists confront the fact that while freedom has wide appeal in contemporary and modern politics, its meaning is by no means clear. In fact, many political thinkers have long treated freedom as an ‘essentially contested’ concept, highlighting its rival forms and theorizations. For example, Benjamin Constant (see p. 108) distinguished between the ‘liberty of the ancients’ (which he identified with the ideas of self-government) and the ‘liberty of the moderns’ (which he identified with noninterference). The most influential twentieth-century attempt to do this was undertaken by Isaiah Berlin in ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’ ([1958] 2002). Berlin (see p. 169) claimed to identify a ‘positive’ concept of freedom and a ‘negative’ concept of freedom. In everyday language, this has sometimes been understood as a distinction between being ‘free to’ do something and being ‘free from’ something.

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The distinction between negative and positive liberty emerges out of a more fundamental issue in the concept of liberty. That concept is meant to offer a normative ideal that stretches across at least two domains: individual conduct and voluntary relations with other individuals and individual and group relations to the political community. This means that liberty is both about what we do on our own, as individuals, and about what we do as political collectives. This ambiguity gives rise to the negative-positive distinction and makes it such an important concept for the question of citizenship.

Liberty, its nature and limits In the everyday language of most Western liberal democracies, freedom means to act as one chooses. For example, being ‘free’ suggests the absence of constraints or restrictions, as in ‘freedom of speech’, an unchecked ability to say whatever one pleases. The idea of freedom as primarily about the absence of impediments for the individual is also an important part of the theoretical understanding of freedom, as we will see. However, few people, everyday or academic, are prepared to support the removal of all restrictions on the individual. This is for the simple reason that our actions as individuals affect both other individuals and our political societies. As R. H. Tawney ([1931] 1969) (see p. 195) pointed out, ‘The freedom of the pike is death to the minnows.’ Even anarchists, who reject all forms of political authority as oppressive, believe individual action will be constrained by social norms and morals. What this shows us is that the consideration of freedom in the Western tradition is immediately a question of the limits of freedom: where does acceptable freedom end? Liberal and republican political thought has thus sought to establish normatively justified limits on freedom. One major way this has been attempted is through a distinction between two kinds of self-willed action: ‘liberty’ and what may be called ‘licence’. This distinction is nevertheless difficult. For example, it suggests that there can be a clear standard (moral or otherwise) imposed on freedom to decide when individual behaviour is acceptable and when it is not. However, relying on such a standard, and the liberty or licence distinction raises the additional question: how do we theoretically distinguish between justified and unjustified uses of freedom? The distinction between liberty and its excess, licence, occurs in several modern political thinkers. For example, in The Second Treatise on Government ([1690] 1965) Locke, discussing the state of nature, argues ‘though this be a state of liberty, yet it is not a state of license; though man in that state have an uncontrollable liberty to dispose of his person or possessions, yet he has not liberty to destroy himself, or so much as any creature in his possession’. For Locke, liberty is constrained by natural laws and morality, where licence entails violating these. Rousseau, in the Discourse on Inequality ([1755] 2000), makes a similar point, though with a higher standard. He warns against ‘mistaking for freedom an unbridled license which is its opposite’. For Rousseau, real liberty is not simply pursuing our individual will, even constrained by a higher law. Rather, any form of domination amongst individuals compromises real liberty for him. In Letter 8 from his Oeuvres Completas, he clarifies this distinction. It is worth quoting Rousseau at length: Many have been the attempts to confound independence and liberty: two things so essentially different, that they reciprocally exclude each other. When every one does what he pleases, he will, of course, often do things displeasing to others; and this is

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not properly called a free state. Liberty consists less in acting according to one’s own pleasure, than in not being subject to the will and pleasure of other people. (From letter 8, Oeuvres Completes de J. J. Rousseau, quoted in Held 2006) Discussions over liberty in modern political thought thus quickly turn into discussions on (1) its nature and (2) its appropriate limits. What is common is a distinction between liberty, which is valued on some grounds, and licence or independence (or some other term), which is excessive, oppressive or morally corrupt in some way. There is deep ideological controversy about where liberty becomes licence. Classical liberals, for instance, seek to maximize the realm of individual freedom and reduce those actions regarded as licence. Although classical liberalism often refers to its seventeenthand eighteenth-century form, it took a new form in the twentieth century linked to the defence of private property and free-market capitalism. For example, Robert Nozick (see p. 246) and Milton Friedman (see p. 38) saw freedom in essentially economic terms and advocated the greatest possible freedom of choice in the marketplace. An employer’s ability to set wage levels, alter work conditions and decide who to employ or not, are manifestations of liberty. On the other hand, socialists regard such behaviour as licence, on the grounds that the freedom of the employer results in oppression for workers. Revolutionary socialists may go so far as to portray all forms of private property as licence, as they inevitably lead to the exploitation of the propertyless. The problem with establishing the desirable realm of liberty is that there is a bewildering number of ways to theorize and justify freedom. In much liberal political thought, the tendency is to treat freedom as a right or entitlement. Indeed, the two concepts become almost fused, as when ‘rights’ are described as ‘liberties’. One of the attractions of a rightsbased theory of freedom, whether these are thought to be ‘natural’, ‘human’ or ‘civil’ rights, is that it enables a clear distinction to be made between liberty and licence. In short, liberty means acting according to or within one’s rights, whereas licence means acting beyond one’s rights or, more particularly, abusing the rights of others. For example, employers are exercising liberty when they are acting based on their rights, derived perhaps from the ownership of property or a contract of employment, but they stray into the realm of licence when they infringe the employees’ rights. However, this distinction becomes more complex when it is examined closely. In the first place, rights are always balanced against one another, in the sense that most actions can have adverse consequences for other people. In this sense, freedom is a zero-sum game: when one person, an employer, gains more freedom, someone else, an employee, loses it. It is impossible, therefore, to ensure that the rights of all are respected all the time. More serious, however, is the problem of defining who has rights and why. As emphasized below individual rights are the subject of deep political and ideological controversy. J. S. Mill proposed another influential distinction between liberty and licence (see p. 168). Mill argued that individual freedom was the basis for moral self-development, and so proposed that individuals should enjoy the greatest possible realm of liberty. However, Mill also recognized that unrestrained liberty could become oppressive, even tyrannical. In On Liberty ([1859] 1972), he proposed a distinction between ‘self-regarding’ actions and ‘other-regarding’ actions, suggesting that each individual should have sovereign control over the former, and therefore over his or her body. The only justification for constraining the individual, Mill argued, was ‘harm’ being done to others. In effect, the

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‘harm principle’ indicates the point at which freedom becomes ‘excessive’, the point at which liberty becomes licence. Although this distinction appears clear it has proven controversial. This largely centres on what is meant by ‘harm’ and whether it refers only to direct forms of physical harm. Mill was clearly prepared to allow individuals absolute freedom to think, write and say whatever they wish, and to allow them to undertake harmful actions, so long as they are self-regarding. Mill would not, therefore, have tolerated any form of censorship or restrictions on the use of dangerous drugs. However, since Mill our understandings of harm have substantially broadened to include psychological, moral and even spiritual harm. If these are included then Mill’s standard would rule out a far more extensive range of actions as licence. For example, the portrayal of violence or pornography on television may be regarded as morally harmful in the sense that it can have a damaging influence on behaviour. Similarly, if ‘harm’ is taken to include economic or social disadvantage, it could be applied to the imposition of a pay freeze by an employer. This may not harm his or her employees in a physical sense, but it undoubtedly harms their interests. Further concerns about Mill’s views on freedom have emerged due to problems with the notion of a self-regarding/other-regarding divide, which enjoys little support in non-Western thought. Finally, in many Western discussions of liberty, there is a substantial discussion of equality. In some sense, this is a structural consequence of modern justifications of liberty that usually root it in some humanity-wide standard: if liberty is justified generally, all humans are entitled to it. Thus, those who employ a rights-based theory of freedom invariably acknowledge the importance of ‘equal rights’, and Mill insisted that the ‘harm principle’ applied equally to all citizens. This suggests that another way of distinguishing

THINKER JOHN STUART MILL (1806–73) British philosopher, political economist and politician. Mill was subjected to an austere regime of education by his father, the utilitarian theorist James Mill, graphically described in his Autobiography (1873). This resulted in a mental collapse at the age of twenty, after which he developed a more human philosophy influenced by the writings of Coleridge and the German Idealists. He founded and edited the London Review and was MP for Westminster, 1865–8. Mill’s work was crucial to the development of liberalism because it straddled the divide between classical and modern theories. In On Liberty ([1859] 1972) he defended freedom based on the principle that the only justification for restricting individual freedom is to prevent ‘harm to others’. His opposition to collectivist traditions, including those embodied in majoritarian democracy, was rooted in a commitment to ‘individuality’. His essay, Utilitarianism ([1861] 1972), was designed to outline the basic themes of the utilitarian tradition (see p. 22), but departed from them in emphasizing the difference between ‘higher’ and ‘lower’ pleasures. In Considerations on Representative Government ([1861] 1972), Mill discussed the representative and electoral mechanisms he believed would balance broader participation against the need for an intellectual and moral elite. Mill was also an early feminist thinker. The Subjection of Women (1869), co-written with his wife Harriet Taylor, proposed that women should enjoy the same rights and liberties as men, including the right to vote.

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between liberty and licence is through the application of the principle of equal liberty. In other words, liberty becomes licence not when the rights of another are violated, or when harm is done to others, but when liberty is unequally shared out. John Rawls (see p. 283) expressed this in his first principle of justice: that each person is entitled to the greatest possible liberty compatible with a like liberty for all. However, the doctrine of equal liberty is bedevilled by problems about how freedom is construed. If freedom boils down to possessing a set of formal rights, the task of ensuring that freedom is equally distributed is easy: it is necessary simply to ensure that no individual or group has special privileges or disadvantages. This can be achieved by the establishment of formal equality, equality before the law. It is more complicated, however, if freedom is not formal rights, but a capacity to take advantage of these rights. Modern liberals (see p. 280) and social democrats (see p. 194), for example, argue that equal liberty requires going beyond rights to wealth redistribution. Such disagreements go to the very heart of the debate about the nature of freedom and to the difference between negative and positive freedom.

Negative freedom The distinction between negative and positive freedom is the most influential attempt to clarify different ways of understanding freedom (i.e. its nature) and its major justifications (i.e. what its extent is). Originally formulated by Isaiah Berlin in ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’ ([1958] 2002), the distinction has been applied to a variety of concepts and literatures. While not uncriticized it has become a central means to group different views on freedom. This section addresses negative freedom, which is often associated with the classical liberal tradition and frames freedom as an absence of impediment. The next section addresses positive freedom, which is more associated with modern liberals, socialists and republicans, and understands freedom as the ability to act. In the end, these are quite different and have significantly different consequences for Berlin.

THINKER ISAIAH BERLIN (1909–97) British historian of ideas and philosopher. Born in Riga, Latvia, and brought up in St Petersburg, Berlin came to the UK in 1921. In the 1930s he became a member of a group of Oxford philosophers, which included A. J. Ayer, Stuart Hampshire and John Austin, who were distinguished by their staunch support for empiricism. Berlin developed a form of liberal pluralism that was influenced by counter-Enlightenment thinkers such as Vico (1668–1744), Herder (1744–1803) and Herzen (1812–70). The central flaw of Enlightenment thought, for Berlin, was its monism, a defect that he traced back to Plato (see p. 49). In Berlin’s view, since moral beliefs are not susceptible to rational analysis, the world must contain an indeterminate number of values, and these values are often irreconcilable. People, in short, will always disagree about the ultimate ends of life. This encouraged him to warn against the dangers of ‘positive liberty’ understood as self-mastery or self-realization. Whereas positive liberty can be used to map out the potentially totalitarian idea of a rationally ordained human future, ‘negative liberty’, understood as non-interference, is the best guarantee of freedom of choice and personal independence. Berlin’s best-known works include The Crooked Timber of Humanity (1959), Four Essays on Freedom (1969) and Against the Current (1979).

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Berlin ([1958] 2002) famously summarized negative freedom as ‘freedom from’: the absence of external constraints on an agent imposed by other people. To clarify this, he relies on a spatial metaphor. Freedom is a space of unimpeded action around the individual. He asks ‘What is the area within which the subject - a person or group of persons - is or should be left to do or be what he is able to do or be, without interference by other persons?’ This results in a conception of freedom that sees it as the absence of direct interference. The latter constitutes intentional acts by other agents that interfere with my actions. ‘I am normally said to be free to the degree to which no man or body of men interferes with my activity. Political liberty in this sense is simply the area within which a man can act unobstructed by others. If I am prevented by others from doing what I could otherwise do, I am to that degree unfree.’ Although some have portrayed the negative conception of freedom as value-free, it has clear moral and theoretical implications. First, if freedom is the absence of external constraints on the individual, law takes on a particular role. Law constrains individuals and groups because, through the threat of punishment, it forces them to obey. Law is seen as the main obstacle to freedom. Thomas Hobbes (see p. 73), for instance, described freedom as the ‘silence of the law’. To advocate that freedom should be maximized does not, however, mean that law should be abolished, but only that it should be restricted to protecting liberty from the encroachments of others. This is John Locke’s (see p. 217) point when he suggested that law does not restrict liberty so much as enlarge it. Government should similarly be restricted to a ‘minimal’ role, the maintenance of domestic order and personal security. For this reason, advocates of negative freedom have usually supported the minimal state and sympathized with laissez-faire capitalism. This is not to say, however, that state intervention in the form of economic management or social welfare can never be justified, but only that it cannot be justified in terms of freedom. Second, negative freedom is linked to the idea of choice. For example, in Capitalism and Freedom (1962) Milton Friedman sees ‘economic freedom’ as freedom of choice in the marketplace – the freedom of the consumer to choose what to buy, the freedom of the worker to choose a job, the freedom of a producer to choose what to make and who to employ. On this account, choice highlights an important aspect of individual liberty. Choosing is a voluntary selection from a range of options. Consequently, it is reasonable to assume that a choice reflects a person’s genuine preferences, wants or needs. When a worker, for instance, selects one job rather than another this indicates that that job is the one which best satisfies his or her inclinations. This link between freedom and choice though has received significant criticism. If freedom is reflected in the exercise of choice, the options available to the individual must be reasonable ones. At times of high unemployment, or when most available jobs are poorly paid, is it possible to regard a worker’s choice of a job as a self-willed action? Indeed, classical Marxists (see p. 249) argue that since workers have no other means of subsistence they are best thought of as ‘wage slaves’: the alternative to work is destitution. Third, negative freedom is linked to the idea of privacy. Privacy suggests a distinction between a ‘private’ realm of existence, and a ‘public’ world. Advocates of negative freedom often regard this private sphere, consisting largely of family and personal relationships, as a realm of personal autonomy. It is an arena in which individuals should be left alone to do, say and think whatever they please. Any intrusion into the private is an

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infringement of liberty. To prize negative freedom is clearly to prefer the ‘private’ to the ‘public’, and to wish to enlarge the scope of the former at the expense of the latter. A very different tradition of political thought, however, sees public life not as a realm of duty and unfreedom, but as an arena within which altruism and social solidarity are promoted. From this perspective, the demand for privacy may simply reflect a flight from social responsibility into isolation, and selfishness. Finally, the case for negative freedom is based on a conception of the human individual and rationality. Free from interference, coercion and even guidance, individuals can make their own decisions and fashion their own lives. Importantly, they are trusted to understand and pursue their own interests. Any form of paternalism, however well intentioned, robs the individual of responsibility for his or her own life, and so infringes liberty. This is not to argue that individuals will not make mistakes, both intellectual and moral, but simply to say that if they are in a position to learn from their mistakes they have a better opportunity to develop as human beings. In short, self-development can never be imposed; it can only arise through voluntary action. Opponents of negative freedom nevertheless suggest that when individuals are simply ‘left alone’ they may fall prey to economic misfortune or the caprice of the market, and so be in no position to make rational choices. Negative freedom may thus amount to the ‘freedom to starve’. Such thinking led to the emergence of a rival, ‘positive’ conception of freedom.

Positive freedom Berlin’s ([1958] 2002) second concept of freedom is positive freedom, which he summarizes as ‘freedom to’. Unlike negative freedom, which is a space of non-interference, positive freedom is focused on the question of control: ‘what, or who, is the source of control or interference that can determine someone to do, or be, this rather than that?’ Berlin often summarizes positive freedom as consisting of ‘being one’s own master’. However, he means that in at least two senses. The ‘positive’ sense of the word ‘liberty’ derives from the wish on the part of the individual to be his own master. I wish my life and decisions to depend on myself, not on external forces of whatever kind. I wish to be the instrument of my own, not of other men’s, acts of will. I wish to be a subject, not an object; to be moved by reasons, by conscious purposes, which are my own, not by causes which affect me. Rather than a lack of interference, positive freedom is about the presence of certain activities. Here, Berlin describes the positive concept of freedom as focused on at least two activities: (1) autonomy and self-government, and (2) the capacity to formulate, plan and achieve willed goals. While these are surely related they are not the same and have led to different trajectories of thinking of liberty in modern and contemporary political thought. First, Berlin highlights the connection between positive freedom and democracy. Democratic theory (see Chapter 8) broadly appeals to the idea that a people is free if it is self-governing, and unfree if it is not. Positive freedom is democratic for Berlin in so far as it is concerned with the question ‘By whom am I governed?’ rather than ‘How much am I governed?’ Indeed, a demos that imposes many restrictive laws on itself may

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be positively free but negatively unfree. Berlin associates this idea with Rousseau’s work and his claim in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969) that liberty is ‘obedience to a law one prescribes to oneself ’. Positive freedom as self-determination requires an equal role in decision-making. We pick these issues up again in Chapter 8. Second, Berlin also describes positive freedom as the capacity to realize one’s potential and achieve fulfilment. This is a different dimension of positive freedom, often traced back to J. S. Mill. Although Mill appeared to endorse a negative conception of freedom, the individual’s sovereign control over himself or herself, he nevertheless asserted that the purpose of freedom was the attainment of individuality. ‘Individuality’ refers to the distinctive character of each individual, meaning that freedom comes to stand for selfdevelopment. This proved deeply influential in modern liberal thought. T. H. Green (1911) (see p. 281) endorses this sense of positive freedom when he defines freedom as the ability of people ‘to make the most and best of themselves’. This freedom consists not in being left alone, or democratically participating, but in having the opportunity to grow as an individual. While the first sense of positive freedom is democratic, the second is liberal and individualistic. Nonetheless, they both entail a form of equality that goes beyond the simple formal equality of liberties or rights in negative liberty. This is because positive freedom in both the democratic and individualist senses requires the equal ability, not just opportunity, to achieve these ends. So it is outcome, not opportunity, focused. As such, positive freedom is often concerned with the distribution of material or economic resources and an expansion, rather than a contraction, of state power. However, the notion of positive freedom has been deployed in a broad range of theories, whose political implications are diverse and sometimes contradictory. In effect, freedom may be positive in that it stands for effective power, self-realization, self-mastery, autonomy, moral freedom or even spiritual freedom. To understand this range we must remember that historically, the idea of positive freedom emerges from critiques of negative freedom developed by socialists and modern liberals in the late nineteenth century. Capitalism had swept away feudal structures but left the mass subject to poverty, unemployment, sickness and disease. Such social circumstances constrained freedom every bit as much as laws for these thinkers. Revolutionary socialists in the nineteenth century responded by thinking freedom as a form of self-realization. Freedom in this sense is positive because it is based on want-satisfaction or need-fulfilment. It is the realization of one’s own ‘true’ nature. Karl Marx (see p. 263) described freedom as the ‘development of human potential for its own sake’. This potential could be realized, Marx believed, only by the experience of creative labour, working together with others to satisfy our needs. From this point of view, Robinson Crusoe, who enjoyed the greatest possible measure of negative freedom since no one else on his island could constrain him, was a stunted and unfree individual, deprived of the social relationships through which human beings achieve fulfilment. This notion of freedom is clearly reflected in Marx’s concept of ‘alienation’. Under capitalism, labour is reduced to a mere commodity, controlled and shaped by depersonalized market forces. In Marx’s view, capitalist workers suffer from alienation, in that they are separated from their own essential natures: they are alienated from the product of their labour; from the process of labour; from their fellow human beings; and, finally, from their ‘true’ selves. Freedom is therefore linked to the personal fulfilment that only unalienated labour can offer.

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For modern liberals and social democrats, this conception of freedom justified extensive social welfare. The welfare state enlarges freedom by ‘empowering’ individuals and freeing them from the social evils – unemployment, homelessness, poverty, ignorance, disease and so on. This doctrine of positive freedom has also been criticized. Some commentators, for example, see it simply as a linguistic confusion. Individuality, personal growth and self-development may be consequences of freedom, but they are not freedom itself. In other words, freedom is being mistaken for ‘power’ or ‘opportunity’. Moreover, other critics, particularly among the New Right, have argued that this doctrine has given rise to new forms of servitude since, by justifying broader state powers, it has robbed individuals of control over their own economic and social circumstances. Social welfare theory and its critics are discussed at length in Chapter 11. Finally, it is important to note that the entire distinction between positive and negative freedom has been widely criticized. For instance, the difference between ‘freedom to’ and ‘freedom from’ is merely semantic: each example of freedom can be described in both ways. Being ‘free to’ gain an education is equivalent to being ‘free from’ ignorance; being ‘free from’ excessive taxation simply means being ‘free to’ spend one’s money as one wishes. G. C. MacCallum (1972) went further and proposed a single, value-free concept of freedom in the form: ‘X is free from Y to do or be Z.’ MacCallum’s formula helps to clarify thought about freedom in several ways. For instance, it suggests that the apparently deep question ‘Are we free?’ is meaningless, and should be replaced by a more specific statement about what we are free from, and what we are free to do. This helps to explain how people disagree about freedom. Most commonly, this occurs over what counts as an obstacle to freedom, what can count as Y. For example, while some argue that freedom can be restricted only by physical or legal obstacles, others insist that inadequate material resources, social deprivation and insufficient education is a cause of unfreedom. All of this illustrates how contested the concept of freedom is. While a fundamental value for how we construct citizenship in modern liberal democratic societies, debates about freedom are fundamentally divided over its nature, limits and justification.

RIGHTS Rights are one of the central conceptual and legal means of outlining citizenship. Early liberal thinkers, as we have seen, were mainly concerned with limiting states to ensure state power was not excessive. Their conception of freedom was thus negative: citizens are free to the extent they are unencumbered by the state. The idea of rights came to provide a central means of conceiving and institutionalizing this space of freedom. In its original meaning, the term ‘right’ stood for a power or privilege, as in the right of the nobility, the right of the clergy, and the divine right of kings. However, in its modern sense, it refers to an entitlement to act or be treated in a particular way. Although it would be wrong to suggest that the doctrine of rights is universally accepted, most modern political thinkers have been prepared to express their ideas in terms of rights. The concept of rights is, in that sense, politically less contentious than equality or social justice. However, there is far less agreement about the grounds of rights, who should possess them and which ones they should have. First, as in the case of law, there is a fundamental distinction between legal and moral rights. Some rights are clearly established in law or a system of formal rules and so are

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enforceable; others exist only as moral or philosophical claims. What is the relation between these? Second, the modern notion of rights reached its widest form in the twentieth-century concept of human rights. However, problems surround this idea. Who, for instance, is to be regarded as ‘human’? Does this extend to children and embryos as well as to adults? Are some groups of people, perhaps women and ethnic minorities, entitled to special rights by virtue either of their biological needs or social position? Finally, the conventional understanding of rights has been challenged by the emergence of environmental political theory (see p. 180), which has raised questions about the rights of non-humans, the rights of animals and other species. It is impossible to understate the importance of rights. Political debate is littered with references to rights – the right to work, the right to education, the right to abortion and so forth. It is the ubiquitous nature of rights discourse in contemporary liberal democracies that gives the best evidence of their centrality to political life and citizenship.

Legal and moral rights One of the central divisions within rights theory is the distinction between legal and moral rights. This debate is related to the distinction between natural and positive law (see Chapter 6). Like the latter, this debate centres on whether there is sense to a moral notion of rights or whether rights are only legal constructions. So once again, this is a debate over the relationship between institutionalization and morality: is morality a foundation for rights? The question of legal rights is the question of how rights are, and how rights should be, institutionalized. As such, it tends to engage political theory with debates in legal theory and jurisprudence. Legal rights are rights enshrined in law and are therefore enforceable. They have been described as ‘positive’ rights, in that they are upheld regardless of their moral content. Indeed, some legal rights remain in force for many years even though they are widely regarded as immoral. For example, the legal right of husbands in the UK until 1992 to rape their wives falls into this category. Legal rights extend over a broad range of legal relationships. A classic attempt to categorize such rights was undertaken by Wesley Hohfeld in Fundamental Legal Conceptions (1923). Hohfeld identified four types of legal right. First, there are privileges or liberty-rights. These allow a person to do something in the simple sense that they have no obligation not to do it; they are ‘at liberty’ to do it – for instance, to use the public highway. Second, there are claim-rights, on the basis of which a person owes another a corresponding duty – for example, the right of one person not to be assaulted by another. Third, there are legal powers. These are legal abilities, empowering someone to do something – for example, the right to get married or the right to vote. Fourth, there are immunities, which allow one person to avoid being subject to the power of another – for instance, the right of young, elderly and disabled people not to be drafted into the army. The status that these legal rights enjoy within a political system varies considerably by country. In the UK, the content of legal rights has traditionally been vague and their status questionable. Before the passage of the Human Rights Act 1998, most individual rights in the UK were ‘residual’ rights; that is, they were not embodied in statute law but, rather, were based on the common law assumption that ‘everything is permitted that is not prohibited’. This led to situations in which individual rights commonly lacked clear

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legal definition, and were difficult to uphold in court. Although the Human Rights Act introduced greater clarity, it did not give them entrenched status, allowing Parliament by a special procedure to infringe the Act. By contrast, a bill of rights operates in the United States (and many others). A bill of rights is a codified set of individual rights, enshrined in constitutional or ‘higher’ law. The US Bill of Rights consists of the first ten Amendments of the Constitution, although it is sometimes said to include the Fourteenth, Fifteenth and Nineteenth Amendments. Bills of rights are usually said to ‘entrench’ individual rights because they are enshrined in documents that are difficult to amend. The key advantage of a bill of rights is that it establishes a mechanism through which rights can be legally defended and thus protects the individual from government. This occurs because, as bills of rights are enshrined in constitutional law, judges rather than politicians are tasked with upholding individual rights, and this gives them the power of ‘judicial review’, allowing them to check the power of other public bodies if they infringe on individual rights. This, of course, also dramatically enlarges the authority of the judiciary in a way some argue is anti-democratic. Moral rights comprise a different range of rights that have no legal substance but only exist as moral claims. The simplest example of this is a promise. A promise, freely and rationally made, invests one person with a moral obligation to fulfil its terms, and so grants the other party the right that it should be fulfilled. Unless the promise takes the form of a legally binding contract, it is enforced by moral considerations alone. It is the fact that it is freely made that creates the expectation that a promise will be, and should be, fulfilled. In most cases, in contrast, moral rights are based on their content. In other words, moral rights are more commonly ‘ideal’ rights, which bestow on a person a benefit that they need or deserve. Moral rights therefore reflect what a person should have, from the perspective of an ethical or religious system. The danger with moral rights is, however, that they may become impossibly vague and degenerate into little more than an expression of moral desirability. This was Jeremy Bentham’s (see p. 22) view, who rejected moral rights, believing them to be a mistaken way of describing legal rights that ought to exist. Despite Bentham’s scepticism, most systems of legal rights are underpinned by some kind of moral considerations. For example, legal documents such as the US Bill of Rights, the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) and the European Convention on Human Rights (1950) have all developed out of attempts by philosophers to define the ‘Rights of Man’. To investigate moral rights further it is necessary to examine the most influential form of moral rights, human rights, which are a fundamental part of the rights tradition in modern Western thought.

The expanding nature of rights: Natural, human and beyond The moral debate over rights has largely occurred within the disciplines of political theory and political philosophy and concerns the rights that should exist. Like many topics in modern political thought, these arguments have often centred on competing foundations: on what basis (i.e. from what justificatory grounds) can we argue different sets of rights exist? Are rights God-given, natural, rational, derived from humanity or from life generally? How rights are justified is fundamentally linked to what rights are justified, as different justification can be only be applied to certain sets of actors and

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rights. In this history of theoretical development, the major formulations of rights have been natural rights, human rights and more recent attempts to expand rights to the animal/natural worlds. The modern discourse of rights emerges out of the ‘natural rights’ theories of the early modern period. Such theories arose, primarily, out of the desire to establish some limits on how individuals may be treated by others, especially by those who wield political power. As such, they are primarily negative in form, proscribing certain behaviours from government and individuals. However, if rights are a check on political authority, they require grounds; they must in a sense be ‘pre-legal’. Thus, natural rights theories offered not only lists of rights but a wider conception of humans and society, including fundamental human motivations, basic conditions for human political life, psychological models and ethical arguments stemming from these. In the seventeenth century, John Locke’s account of natural rights sets down the most influential early modern model. For Locke, our natural rights are to ‘life, liberty and property’. This pairing is important. Locke’s most basic rights are individualist, focused on security, agency and ownership. Natural rights are not about social equality or political power. Nonetheless, there is an important claim to equality. These rights flow from the fact that people are ‘all equal and independent’, there should be no ‘subordination or subjection’ amongst us. Perhaps most importantly, the ground of this equality for Locke is the human capacity for reason. Reason is what defines humanity. It separates us from the animal world and allows us to discover natural laws. This illustrates our special moral status and the fact that natural rights are rational. For Locke, natural law is the law of reason, and it is reason that teaches us the basis of our duties to one another. The impact of Locke and other natural rights theorists cannot be overemphasized. A century later, Thomas Jefferson, during the American War for Independence, defined natural rights as the right to ‘life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness’. Such rights were described as ‘natural’ in that they were thought to be ‘God-given’, ‘self-evident’ and ‘unalienable’. Similarly, during the French Revolution, the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789) argued that ‘The end [purpose] of all political associations is the preservation of the natural and imprescriptible rights of man … liberty, property, security and resistance of oppression.’ In this way, natural rights rooted a particular conception and set of rights into Western rights discourse. This conception was broad, including an account of human drives, psychology and normative claims for the conditions of a good life. But it was also particular as it focused on individual goods around life, liberty and property. By the twentieth century, the decline of religious belief led to the secularization of natural rights theories, which were reborn in the form of ‘human’ rights. Human rights are rights to which people are entitled by being human. While this framing is not strictly separate from earlier natural rights, the absence of a theological justification and the shift of focus to humanity as the normative source of its own rights, arguably exacerbates the individualistic tendencies of natural rights. Nonetheless, there are several key features. First, human rights are universal rights. They belong to all human beings rather than to members of any particular nation, race, religion or culture, although attempts have been made to qualify this universality (e.g. through the idea of ‘Asian values’ – see  p.  177). Second, human rights are also fundamental rights in that they are inalienable: they

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cannot be traded away or revoked. Third, human rights are absolute rights: they must be upheld at all times and in all circumstances. However, this view is more difficult to sustain since in practice rights are often balanced against one another. For example, does the assertion of a right to life rule out capital punishment and all forms of warfare, whatever the provocation? The right to life cannot be absolute if a right to self-defence is also acknowledged. The concept of human rights raises several very different questions. These circle around the issues of defining ‘human’ and the rights to which human beings are entitled. For example, focusing rights on humans raises questions about when, how and with what attributes humanity occurs. The temporal question of when human life begins, and so when humans acquire rights, has divided the abortion debate. Does human life begin at conception or at birth? The former view suggests rights for the unborn that condemn practices such as abortion and embryo research. On the latter view, abortion is acceptable since it reflects a woman’s right to bodily autonomy. These positions not only reflect different conceptions of life but also allocate rights to human beings on different grounds. Those who regard embryos as ‘human’, in the same sense as adults, draw on the belief that human life is sacred: all humans are entitled to rights, regardless of the stage of development. In contrast, arguing that ‘human’ life begins at birth is often thought to require a further basis for allocating rights (just what is it that happens at birth that leads to rights?), such as the ability to live independently, to enjoy a measure of self-consciousness, or the ability to make rational or moral choices. If such criteria are employed, however, it is difficult to see how human rights can be granted to groups of people who do not themselves fulfil such requirements, for example, children and people with mental or physical disabilities. So each raises theoretical questions.

BEYOND THE WEST ASIAN VALUES The idea that Asian culture may contain alternative political values gained momentum during the 1980s and 1990s. This view was fuelled by the emergence of Japan as an economic superpower and the success of the so-called ‘tiger’ economies of East and Southeast Asia – Hong Kong, Taiwan, South Korea, Thailand and Singapore. The position was outlined in the Bangkok Declaration of 1993, when Asian state representatives from Iran to Mongolia, meeting in preparation for the World Conference on Human Rights in Vienna (1993), issued a bold statement in favour of what they called ‘Asian values’. These are values that supposedly reflect the history, culture and religious backgrounds of Asian societies. Examples of Asian values include social harmony, duty, respect for authority and a valuation of family. Particularly keen advocates of this view included Mahathir Mohamad and Lee Kuan Yew, at that time the prime ministers, respectively, of Malaysia and Singapore. While not rejecting the idea of universal human rights, the notion of Asian values drew attention to supposed differences between Western and Asian value systems, to argue in favour of including cultural difference in discussions of human rights. From this perspective, human rights had traditionally been constructed based on culturally biased Western assumptions.

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Individualism had been emphasized over the interests of the community; rights had been given preference over duties; and civic and political freedoms had been extolled above socio-economic well-being. The recognition of Asian values sought to rectify this. These included a vision of social harmony and cooperation grounded in loyalty and respect for authority – towards parents within the family, teachers at school and the government within society as a whole. Allied to a keen work ethic and thrift, these values were a recipe for social stability and economic success. Although the idea of Asian values was dealt a damaging blow by the Asian financial crisis of 1997–8, the rise of China has revived interest in it, particularly in the light of its association with Confucianism (see p. 86), and the idea that political legitimacy might work differently in non-democratic Asian states.

A further problem arises from the fact that while human rights are universal, human beings are not identical. For example, this issue arises in arguments for ‘women’s rights’. Some argue that human rights, initially developed with men in mind, should also be extended to women. This would apply in the case of women’s right to education, their right to enter professions, their right to equal pay and so on. However, in the West the idea of women’s rights went beyond this in the 1970s to argue that women have specific needs which entitle them to special rights. Such rights include those related to childbirth or childcare, such as the right to perinatal maternity leave. More controversial, however, is the notion that women are entitled to a set of rights to compensate them for their unequal treatment by society. Women’s rights could extend to a form of positive discrimination that seeks to rectify past injustices by establishing quotas for women in higher education or senior positions in business, politics or professions. Similar arguments have been made to address racial injustice and cultural disadvantage for ethno-cultural minorities. In so far as such rights are based on a commitment to equal treatment it can be argued that they draw on human rights. However, it is difficult to regard women’s rights in this sense as fundamental human rights since they are not allocated to all human beings. Seemingly, rights that arise out of unequal or unjust treatment will be meaningful only so long as that inequality persists. In addition to these conceptual issues, Western political thought has been deeply divided in understanding human rights and what they should entail. Thus, the common idea that rights-based theories in some way stand above ideological and political differences is naïve. From the outset, the idea of natural rights was closely linked to the liberal notion of limited government. The traditional formulation that human beings are entitled to the right to life, liberty and property, regarded rights as a private sphere within which the individual could enjoy independence from other individuals and, more importantly, from the state. These rights are therefore ‘negative’ rights or ‘forbearance’ rights; they can be enjoyed only if constraints are placed on others. In this sense, they require governments to restrict either themselves (e.g. taxation) or others that might impact on the individual. As discussed in relation to citizenship, during the twentieth century another range of rights came to be added based on government’s growing responsibility for economic and social life. These are economic, social and cultural rights, and they are ‘positive’ in that they demand not forbearance but active government intervention. The right to health

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care, for example, requires some form of health insurance, if not a publicly funded system of health provision. Such economic and social rights have provoked fierce disagreement, particularly between socialists and conservatives, leading to the development of two contrasting models of citizenship, as examined earlier. The very idea of natural or human rights has been attacked, notably by utilitarians (see p. 22), Marxists (see p. 249) and postcolonial theorists (see p. 336). As pointed out earlier, Jeremy Bentham was prepared to acknowledge only the existence of ‘positive’ or legal rights. Natural rights were subjective or metaphysical entities, which Bentham dismissed as ‘nonsense on stilts’. Marx (see p. 263), on the other hand, regarded ‘the Rights of Man’ as a means of advancing the interests of private property and an incomplete form of emancipation. In his view, every right was a ‘right of inequality’ since it applied an equal standard to individuals made unequal by class difference. For instance, the right to property can be regarded as a ‘bourgeois’ right because it has very different implications for the rich and the poor. Postcolonial theorists have criticized human rights on two grounds. First, in line with communitarian (see p. 57) and post-structuralist (see p. 82) thinkers, they have argued that circumstances vary so much between societies as to require differing moral values and, at least, differing conceptions of human rights. Second, and more radically, they have portrayed universal values in general, and human rights in particular, as part of larger Western justifications colonizing and reorganizing non-Western states. Finally, the gradual expanding logic of rights has witnessed the rise of arguments for animal rights in political theory. These arguments are connected to the broader growth of environmental political thought (see p. 180). Traditional attitudes towards animals/ nature in the West were shaped by the Christian belief that humans enjoyed a God-given dominion (i.e. stewardship) over the world. Humanity was the centrepiece of creation and animals exist to provide for human needs. Since they do not possess immortal souls, animals are unequal with humans. Environmental theories, by contrast, hold that human beings are neither above nor beyond the natural world but inseparable from it. This belief is much closer to the emphasis found in Eastern religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism on the oneness of all forms of life. It is important to distinguish between the notion of ‘animal welfare’ and the more radical idea of ‘animal rights’. Animal welfare reflects an altruistic concern for the well-being of other species, but does not necessarily equally value them with humans. Such an argument was advanced by Peter Singer (see p. 23) in Animal Liberation (1995), who argued that animal welfare theory is based on their sentience and capacity to suffer. Like humans, animals have an interest in avoiding physical pain. For Singer, the interests of animals and humans in this respect are equal, and he condemns any attempt to place the interests of humans above those of animals as ‘speciesism’, an arbitrary and irrational prejudice not unlike sexism or racism. The animal welfare argument emphasizes treating animals with respect and minimizing their suffering. It may, nevertheless, acknowledge that it is natural for humans, like all species, to prefer their own kind and to place human interests before other species. The animal rights argument can have more radical implications precisely because it is derived from human rights theories. They proceed by extending their grounds. One possibility is that rights spring out of the existence of life itself: human beings have rights

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because they are living individuals. If this is true, it naturally follows that the same rights should be granted to other living creatures. For instance, Tom Regan argued in The Case for Animal Rights (2004) that all creatures that are ‘the subject of a life’ qualify for rights. He suggested that, as the right to life is the most fundamental of all rights, the killing of an animal is as morally indefensible as a human being. Sue Donaldson and Will Kymlicka, in Zoopolis: A Political Theory of Animal Rights (2011), significantly expanded the traditional focus in arguments for animal rights. Most accounts like Reagan’s focus on making claims about the intrinsic nature and interests of animals and the moral consequences of these characteristics as a basis for rights. In contrast, Donaldson and Kymlicka argue that relational obligations arise for humans in how animals are structured into human societies and institutions. In this sense, domesticated animals and wilderness animals should have different rights within human institutions based on their differing relations to and membership in human political communities. Whatever the basis, it is important to remember that the material and social progress that the human species has made has been achieved on top of treating other species and the natural world as a resource for human use. To alter this relationship by acknowledging the rights of other species has profound implications not only for moral conduct but also for the material and social organization of human life.

TRADITION: Environmental Political Thought Environmental (or “Green”) political thought is rooted in the idea of ecology, a term coined by the German zoologist Ernst Haeckel (1866) in 1866 and defined as ‘the investigations of the total relations of the animal both to its organic and its inorganic environment’. Green politics, or ecologism, emerged from the nineteenthcentury backlash against industrialization and urbanization. Modern green politics emerged during the 1960s along with renewed concern about the damage done to the environment by pollution, resource depletion, over-population and so on. Such concerns have been articulated politically by a growing number of green parties in most developed societies who have shared government power or exerted influence through an environmentalist lobby. Environmental political theory is often based on the idea that nature is an interconnected whole, embracing humans and non-humans as well as the inanimate world. This view is expressed in the adoption of an ecocentric or biocentric perspective that accords priority to nature or the planet and thus differs from the anthropocentrism of conventional

political thought. Nevertheless, two strains of environmental political thought are normally identified. ‘Deep’ ecology goes beyond the perspective of conventional political creeds, completely rejecting the belief that humanity is in some way superior to, or more important than, other species – or, indeed, nature itself. By contrast, ‘shallow’, or humanist, ecology accepts the lessons of ecology but harnesses them to human ends. In other words, it preaches that if we can serve and cherish the natural world, it will continue to sustain human life. Shallow is compatible with several other creeds, creating hybrid political traditions. Ecosocialism, usually influenced by modern Marxism (see p. 249), explains environmental destruction in terms of capitalism’s quest for profit; eco-anarchism draws parallels between natural equilibrium in nature and human communities, using the idea of social ecology; and ecofeminism has argued that patriarchy is the source of ecological crisis. Environmental political thought highlights an important imbalance in the relationship between humans and the natural world that is manifest in a growing catalogue of threats to the well-being

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of both. Moreover, it has gone further than any other tradition in questioning the limited focus of Western political thought. As the nearest thing political theory has to a cosmology, environmental thought has allowed political theory to engage insights from non-Western religions, Indigenous cultures and Eastern traditions such as Buddhism, Hinduism and Daoism. However, it has also been criticized from multiple directions. For example, critics argue that its anti-growth, or at least sustainable growth, economic model has limited attractions for most contemporary states, and that its critique of industrial society is sometimes advanced from an anti-technology perspective that is incompatible with the current world. Some, as a result, dismiss environmental political thought as an urban fad, a form of postindustrial romanticism. Key figures Ernst Friedrich Schumacher (1911–77)  A German-born UK economist and environmental theorist, ‘Fritz’ Schumacher championed the cause of human-scale production and helped to develop an ecological philosophy. His notion of

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‘Buddhist economics’ (see p. 253), or ‘economics as if people mattered’, stressed the importance of morality and ‘right livelihood’, and warned against the depletion of finite energy sources. His seminal work is Small is Beautiful (1974). Murray Bookchin (1921–2006)  A US anarchist, social philosopher and environmentalist, Bookchin was the leading proponent of ‘social ecology’. His principle propounds the view that ecological principles can be applied to social organization and argues that the environmental crisis is a result of the breakdown of the organic fabric of both society and nature. Bookchin’s major works include Post-Scarcity Anarchism (1971) and The Ecology of Freedom (1982). Carolyn Merchant (born 1936)  A US ecofeminist philosopher, Merchant’s work has highlighted links between gender oppression and the ‘death of nature’. She developed a socialist feminist critique of the scientific revolution that links environmental destruction to the mechanistic view of nature that is favoured by men. Merchant’s chief works include The Death of Nature (1980) and Radical Ecology (1991).

CONCLUSION The problem of citizenship, of the appropriate shape of the relation between individuals and the state, has dominated modern and contemporary political thought in overt and covert ways. Due to the central influence of the liberal and republican traditions in guiding the formal and informal development of political community in the West, citizenship theory has had an individualistic and formal approach. With the concept of freedom as its ideal, it has mainly been defined through discussions of the nature and extent of the rights of citizens. That said, we have also seen that contestation and disagreement within all these concepts muddies the waters considerably. Freedom is a contested ideal, even in the liberal tradition. And divisions there carry over and recur in debates over the nature of rights. New contexts of discussion, such as the expansion of citizenship entitlements, the impacts of rights on diversity and minority groups and the idea of animals as members of our political communities only complicate these conceptual issues. As a result, contemporary debates over citizenship are significantly contested and live, connecting not only to ongoing debates about rights but also to the contentious areas of discussion around democracy (Chapter 8) and political community (Chapter 9). Beyond this, contemporary debates around exclusions (Chapters 12–13) also stem from the question of what the state owes individuals and what we owe each other.

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FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS ISAIAH BERLIN’S ‘TWO CONCEPTS OF LIBERTY’ ([1958] 2002) Berlin’s essay ‘Two Concepts of Liberty’ ([1958] 2002) is one of the most influential pieces of twentieth-century political thought. Along with John Rawls’s Theory of Justice (see p. 296), it is credited with the post-Second World War revivification of political theory that saw analytic philosophical methods brought into Anglo-American political philosophy. It is primarily a piece of conceptual analyses that uses intellectual history and abstract reflection to critically delineate the two dominant, and Berlin argues in tension, conceptualizations of liberty/freedom in the Western tradition. It is thus mainly associated with the distinction between positive and negative freedom, though Berlin’s point is not only descriptive but also critical. Berlin argues that negative and positive liberty ultimately construct very different sets of relations between the individual and state/society. The former understands liberty as a personal sphere of unimpeded action while the latter understands it as projects of self-realization and autonomy. Berlin’s point is that while there are potential criticisms of each, the most dangerous tendency lies within a major interpretation of positive liberty. He argues that a long history of thinkers of positive freedom from Plato (pp. 49) to Hegel (pp. 18) have conflated the selfmastery of positive freedom with rational decision-making: mastering oneself, on this account, is rational growth as an individual. This has justified, for him, a conception of freedom that warrants restricting freedom when individuals do not pursue rational goods for themselves, and so is potentially despotic. This criticism has been as popular among proponents of negative liberty as it is hated by others. What Berlin’s text illustrates though is the deep contention over liberty and how its conceptualization has knock-on effects for our understandings of rights and the models of citizenship we offer.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘Almost every moralist in human history has praised freedom. Like happiness and goodness, like nature and reality, the meaning of this term is so porous that there is little interpretation that it seems able to resist.’ 2. ‘Coercion is not, however, a term that covers every form of inability. If I say that I am unable to jump more than ten feet in the air, or cannot read because I am blind, or cannot understand the darker pages of Hegel, it would be eccentric to say that I am to that degree enslaved or coerced. Coercion implies the deliberate interference of other human beings within the area in which I could otherwise act. You lack political liberty or freedom only if you are prevented from attaining a goal by human beings.’ 3. ‘The freedom which consists in being one’s own master, and the freedom which consists in not being prevented from choosing as I do by other men, may, on the face of it, seem concepts at no great logical distance from each other--no more than negative and positive ways of saying much the same thing. Yet the “positive” and “negative” notions of freedom historically developed in divergent directions not always by logically reputable steps, until, in the end, they came into direct conflict with each other.’ 4. ‘Those who believed in freedom as rational self-direction were bound, sooner or later, to consider how this was to be applied not merely to a mans inner life, but to his relations with other members of his society.’

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Reading questions 1. Why is liberty so contentious for Berlin? 2. How does he define positive and negative liberty? 3. On Berlin’s account, does it make sense to call both these things liberty? 4. Do you agree that positive liberty is potentially totalitarian while negative liberty atomistic? How does Berlin propose to address this?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yyWhich rights and obligations should

citizenship entail? yyWhy, and with what justification, has the ‘citizenship of entitlements’ been criticized? yyTo what extent should the concept of citizenship be recast in the light of cultural and other forms of diversity? yyIs preventing ‘harm’ to others the only legitimate justification for restricting individual freedom?

yyDoes negative freedom necessarily have anti-statist implications?

yyOn what grounds has the concept of positive freedom been criticized?

yyHow do human rights differ from other kinds of rights?

yyAre economic and social rights genuine

human rights? yyDo animals have rights in the same sense as human beings?

FURTHUR READING Bellamy, R. Citizenship: A Very Short Introduction (2008). A succinct and accessible exploration of the nature of citizenship in modern, complex societies, which reflects on the importance of citizenship and whether it can be created and tested for. Freeden, M. Rights (1991). A clear and insightful investigation of political and philosophical theorizing about rights, which treats rights as protective capsules intended to secure essential aspects of human nature and social relations.

Miller, D. (ed.) The Liberty Reader (2006). A collection of important and insightful essays on liberty that have been chosen to reflect a wide range of political perspectives  – liberal, libertarian, socialist, feminist and republican. Woods, K. Human Rights (2014). A comprehensive account of the nature of, and basis for, human rights, which also examines their role in contemporary debates on issues such as religion, multiculturalism and the environment.

CHAPTER 8

THE PROBLEM OF DEMOCRACY: REPRESENTATION AND THE PUBLIC GOOD Introduction184 Democracy185 •• Democracy’s essence: Direct or indirect 186 •• Liberal democracy 189 •• Justifying and criticizing democracy193 Representation197 •• Representatives and independence198 •• Mandate theory 199 •• Representation as likeness 202 The Public Good 203 •• Private and public interests 203 •• Justifying the public good 206 •• Measuring the public good 207 Conclusion210

INTRODUCTION The problem of democracy returns this discussion to the question that dominated early modern political thought: who should rule? This is the question of political authority and legitimacy that preoccupied the social contract tradition. However, democracy is a new answer to that question. In this sense, the problem of democracy pushes this book forward to the eighteenth, nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries where democracy has been one of the central political ideals and controversies. During these centuries it has generally increased in public and intellectual esteem and now seems to be an almost universally accepted ideal: the people should govern. This is ‘the democratic plateau’: the broad social and theoretical consensus in the West on the desirability of democracy as a means of decision-making. Yet, this universal 184

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endorsement (which may be overemphasized) belies the fundamental disagreement over democracy present in the history of political thought and the very divergent institutional models of democracy. The pure volume of democratic theories in the Western tradition makes a comprehensive account of these approaches difficult. These have included direct and indirect democracy, political and social democracy, pluralist and totalitarian democracy, agonist and deliberative democracy, elitist and participative democracy, and so on. So instead this chapter engages some of the major problems of democracy. Much of the debate between perspectives has been about the values and outcomes democratic government should include. Two particularly deep problems concern us: representation and the common good. While modern democratic theories share with classical views a valuation of popular selfgovernment, they are rarely based on prescribing wholesale direct participation of the citizenry. Rather, they prescribe that democracy will be mainly executed through select individuals who in some way ‘represent’ the people and act on their behalf. However, this has raised fundamental questions about what representation means and how it is accomplished. What, for instance, is being represented: the views of the people, their best interests or the various groups that make up the people? Is representation a necessary feature of democracy or is it fundamentally anti-democratic? Second, one of the central justifications for democracy is that it produces governments that rule in the public interest or common good. However, what is meant by the ‘public good’? And can the people have a single, collective interest? Even if such a collective interest exists, how can it be defined and how is it related to the idea of democracy? To set the stage for these issues we will begin by asking what democracy is as a problem, and how that has elicited critical and normative debates in political theory. What forms of government can reasonably be described as ‘democratic’, and why? Moreover, why is democracy so widely valued, and can it be regarded as an unqualified good? This will be especially important in establishing the main point of orientation around which most democratic theory revolves: the dominant liberal democratic model.

DEMOCRACY The term democracy is firmly rooted in the political thought of Ancient Greece. Like other words that end in ‘cracy’ – such as autocracy, aristocracy and bureaucracy – democracy is derived from the Ancient Greek word kratos, meaning ‘power’ or ‘rule’. Democracy therefore means ‘rule by the demos’, demos standing for ‘the many’ or ‘the people’. Originally democracy was a pejorative term, denoting not so much rule by all, as by the propertyless and uneducated masses. It was therefore the enemy of other political goods such as justice, freedom or stability. While some Greek thinkers, such as Aristotle (see p. 101), recognized the virtues of popular participation, they nevertheless feared that unrestrained democracy, untempered by other forms of rule, would degenerate into ‘mob rule’. Indeed, such pejorative implications continued until the twentieth century, and are

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still part of the political conversation today. For political theorists, this means that most Western political thought on democracy has been sceptical, if not hostile, to it. To engage this history of the growing endorsement of democracy in modern Western thought, we begin by engaging one of the most fundamental distinctions in democratic theory between direct and indirect democracy. The former are based on direct popular participation in government, and the latter operate through some kind of representation. These are in fact two contrasting models of democracy. Moreover, the modern understanding of democracy is dominated by the form of electoral democracy that has developed in the industrialized West, liberal democracy. Despite its widespread uptake, liberal democracy is only one of many possible models, and it has been criticized from a range of perspectives. Finally, the near-universal approval that democracy currently elicits should not obscure the fact that the merits of democracy have been fiercely debated and that this debate has intensified since the late twentieth century. In other words, democracy has many arguments for and against it in the tradition of political thought.

Democracy’s essence: Direct or indirect In the Gettysburg Address, delivered during the American Civil War, Abraham Lincoln extolled the virtues of ‘government of the people, by the people, and for the people’. In so doing, he exposed one of the central tensions in democratic theory and the ideal of popular sovereignty, and how that tension has resulted in two contrasting approaches to democracy. This is the tension between direct and indirect democracy. The first, ‘government by the people’, is based on the idea that the public participates in government and governs itself: popular self-government. The second, ‘government for the people’, is linked to the notion of the public interest and the idea that government benefits the people, whether they themselves rule or not. The stakes in this division are high, contesting the central norm of democracy: popular sovereignty. Popular sovereignty places ultimate political authority and right within the people as a body. However, this can be conceived and operationalized in at least two ways. In direct forms of democracy, the people as a body must in some way make decisions. In the second, their interests, preferences or desires are a constraint and guide for government ensuring that it rules ‘for’ them in some way. The classical conception of democracy, which continues to influence democratic theory, was firmly rooted in the ideal of popular participation and drew heavily on the example of Athenian democracy. The cornerstone of Athenian democracy was the direct and continuous participation of all citizens in the polis. As described in Chapter 5, this amounted to a form of government by mass meeting, where consensus was the aim (though voting mechanisms were often used). Athenian democracy was therefore a system of ‘direct democracy’ or what is sometimes called ‘participatory democracy’. By removing the need for a separate class of professional politicians, the citizens themselves ruled directly. All political offices were open to every citizen and most were selected by lot or rota to ensure they changed hands and spread political power. This obliterated the distinction between government and the governed, between the state and civil society. In the modern and contemporary periods, the ideal of direct democracy has been deeply influential. Its most developed modern articulation is found in Rousseau’s The Social Contract ([1762] 1969), (see p. 210), where he argues that a just distribution of power in society would require all citizens to participate in the formation of a ‘general will’: a collective political

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viewpoint achieved through dialogue and active participation. This ideal was broadly appealed to in Marxist and Anarchist though in the nineteenth century, especially in relation to their critique of liberal democracy. However, it receives its fullest examination in ‘participatory democratic theory’ and the work of Carole Pateman, Benjamin Barber and C. B. Macpherson. This trend emerged in the Anglo-American context in the 1970s and 1980s, arguing for the normative and practical use of wide participation. It was a direct criticism of the dominance of liberal democracy and role of representatives therein. For participatory democrats, representatives divide the state from civil society in a way that compromises popular sovereignty. Instead, Pateman (1970) argued for ‘full participation’ where ‘each individual member of a decisionmaking body has equal power to determine the outcome of decisions’. There are a variety of direct democratic mechanisms that do exist in contemporary liberal democracy. The system of ‘town-meeting democracy’ is practised at local or municipal levels in many countries, including some parts of the United States, notably in New England, and in the communal assemblies employed in Switzerland. This includes wide availability for citizens to discuss and, at least, affect outcomes.

TRADITION:  Democratic Theory Although the democratic political tradition can be traced back to Ancient Greece, the cause of democracy was not widely taken up by political thinkers until the nineteenth century. Until then, democracy was generally dismissed as rule by the unenlightened masses. Now, however, it seems that we are all democratic. Liberals, conservatives, socialists, communists, anarchists and even fascists are eager to proclaim the virtues of democracy and demonstrate their democratic credentials. Western democratic theory does not advance an agreed ideal of popular rule, but is rather an arena of debate in which the notion of popular rule is discussed. These debates revolve around three central questions. First, who are the people? As no one would extend political participation to all the people, the question is on what basis should it be limited – in relation to age, education, gender, social background and so on? Second, how should the people rule? This relates not only to the choice between direct and indirect democratic forms but also to debates about forms of representation and different electoral systems. Third, to which areas or institutions should democratic decision-making be applied? Should democracy be confined just to politics and to key governing bodies, or should the realm of democracy extend to the family, the

classroom, the workplace or the economy as a whole? Democracy, then, is not a single, unambiguous phenomenon. There are numerous theories or models of democracy, each offering its own version of popular rule. There are not merely several democratic forms but also, more fundamentally, quite different grounds on which democratic rule can be justified. Classical democracy, based on the Athenian model, is characterized by the direct and continuous participation of citizens in the processes of government. Protective democracy is a limited and indirect form of democratic rule designed to provide individuals with a means of defence against government. It is linked to natural rights theory and utilitarianism (see p. 22). Developmental democracy is associated with attempts to broaden popular participation on the basis that it advances freedom and individual flourishing. Such ideas were taken up by New Left thinkers from the 1960s onwards in the form of participatory democracy. Deliberative democracy highlights the importance of public debate and discussion in shaping citizens’ identities and interests, and in strengthening their sense of the common good. Finally, radical or agonistic democrats see democracy as the capacity of the people to overturn and recreate democratic institutions.

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Critics of democracy have adopted various positions. They have warned that democracy fails to recognize that some people’s views are more worthwhile than others’; that democracy upholds majority views at the expense of minority views and interests; that democratic rule threatens individual rights by fuelling government growth; and that democracy is based on the bogus notion of a common good, an idea precluded by the pluralistic nature of modern society. Key figures Joseph Schumpeter (1883–1950)  A Moravian-born US economist and sociologist, Schumpeter’s theory of democracy offered an alternative to the ‘classical doctrine’ that portrayed the democratic process as an arena of struggle between power-seeking politicians intent on winning the people’s vote. This view had considerable influence on later democratic elitists. Schumpeter’s most important political work is Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy ([1944] 1994). Robert Dahl (1915–2014)  A US political scientist, Dahl was a leading exponent of

pluralist theory. He contrasted modern democratic systems with the classical democracy of Ancient Greece, using the term ‘polyarchy’ to refer to rule by the many, as distinct from rule by all citizens. He argued that the system of competitive elections prevents any permanent elite from emerging and ensures wide access to the political process. Dahl’s major works include A Preface to Democratic Theory (1956) and Dilemmas of Pluralist Democracy (1982). Carole Pateman (born 1940)  A British feminist and political theorist, Pateman’s Participation and Democratic Theory (1970) helped revive interest in participatory politics. Influenced by Rousseau, she argued that classical theories of democracy that place participation at their core are preferable to revisionist theories that minimize its role. In The Disorder of Women (1989), Pateman explored problems surrounding women’s participation and consent. See also Jean-Jacques Rousseau (p. 205), J. S. Mill (p. 168) and James Madison (p. 197)

Beyond these, there are a variety of mechanisms used to operationalize direct forms of democratic decision-making in contemporary democracies. The most obvious is the plebiscite or referendum, a popular vote on a specific issue that enables electors to make decisions directly. Referendums are widely used at every level in Switzerland, and are employed in many countries to ratify constitutional amendments. The frequency with which referendums have been used in the UK since the 1975 referendum on continued membership of the then European Community has convinced some that there is now a convention that major constitutional reforms should be endorsed through an affirmative vote in a referendum. A form of direct democracy has also survived in modern societies in the practice of selecting juries by lot or rota. Advocates of direct democracy further point out, often in vague terms, that the development of complex digital technology has opened broader possibilities for popular participation in government. The wide distribution of internet access and heavy saturation of smartphones and computers in the population allow for low-cost, and widely distributed decision-making. Critics, on the other hand, have a variety of claims against direct democracy. Some of these are about democracy itself, such as the criticism discussed below that most citizens cannot or do not want to participate adequately. Others stem from the liberal democratic perspective, including the influential idea that participatory democracy does not include enough checks on democratic power to prevent it being used against minorities. Interestingly, even participatory democrats are critical of some direct mechanisms. For example,

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Macpherson argued that referendums were abysmal decision-making procedures as it allowed an elite to formulate a question in a way designed to get a specific answer. ‘Somebody,’ as Macpherson (1977) said, ‘must ask the questions’. The indirect or representative model of democracy is the major alternative to the direct model. In fact, it is the institutionally dominant form of institutionalizing democracy in the world. In this model, democratic government is mediated through professional politicians invested with the responsibility for making decisions on behalf of the people. This is an indirect form of democracy in the sense that popular participation is both infrequent and brief, reduced to the act of voting every few years (and perhaps a few other mechanisms). It is indirect in the sense that the public is removed from government: the public participates only through the choice of who should govern, and only rarely exercises power itself. Representative democracy may nevertheless qualify as a form of democracy because, however limited and ritualized it may appear, voting remains a vital source of popular power and a way for the views, preferences or interests of the people to impact on decisions. Quite simply, the public can express approval (of an existing government) or disapproval (through electing a competitor), a fact that ensures public accountability. Although representative democracy may not fully realize the classical goal of ‘government by the people’, it may nevertheless make possible a form of ‘government for the people’. One of the most common theoretical and everyday justifications of representative democracy argues that it is the only practical form of democracy in modern conditions. A high level of popular participation is possible within relatively small communities, such as Greek city states or small towns, because face-to-face communication can occur between citizens. However, the idea of government by mass participation being conducted in modern nation states containing millions of citizens presents numerous difficulties. Moreover, advocates of representation argue consulting the public on each and every issue, with wide-ranging debate and discussion, paralyses decision-making. The most fundamental objection to direct democracy is, however, that ordinary people lack the time, maturity and specialist knowledge to rule wisely. In this sense, representative democracy applies the advantages of the division of labour to politics: specialist politicians, devoting all their expertise to the activity of government, can more effectively govern than the general public. Nevertheless, since the 1960s there has been growing disenchantment in many Western liberal democracies with the bureaucratic and unresponsive nature of modern government, as well as declining respect for professional politicians. In addition, the act of voting has become perceived to have little impact. Civic disengagement and declining electoral turnout in many parts of the world are thus viewed as symptoms of representative democracy not meeting the ideals of democracy.

Liberal democracy For Bernard Crick ([1962] 2000) democracy is the most promiscuous of political terms. No settled model of democracy exists, only competing models. Beyond those already mentioned there are various non-Western democratic forms, such as those found in African political thought (see p. 191). Nevertheless, one theory of democracy has dominated Western democratic theory and institutionalization, to the extent that many

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treat it as the only meaningful form. This is liberal democracy. It is found in almost all advanced capitalist societies and now extends into parts of the former communist world and developing worlds. Indeed, following the collapse of the Soviet Union, Francis Fukuyama (1992), proclaimed the worldwide triumph of liberal democracy, describing it as the ‘end of history’: the end of the struggle between liberal democracy and its competitors. Such triumphalism, however, should not obscure the fact that liberal democracy is not the only model of democratic government, and, like all concepts of democracy, it has detractors. It should also be noted that since 2016, there has been significant public and intellectual scepticism of liberal democracy in the West and renewed questioning of its longevity. To understand liberal democracy, we must emphasize that it is an institutional model combining two political ideas: liberal constitutionalism and democracy. The former element emerged historically before such states could be described as democratic. Many Western states developed forms of constitutional government in the nineteenth century, at a time when the franchise was extremely restricted (i.e. to propertied males). A liberal constitutional state (see Chapter 6) is based on the principle of limited government and the rule of law. The supremacy of law is a means of checking state power by laying out its intent, limits and separation amongst different branches of government. This ensures a key liberal value: the need to protect the individual from the state. From the liberal perspective, government is necessary, but a threat to individual liberty if not checked. This leads to support for devices that constrain government, such as bill of rights, an independent judiciary and a network of checks and balances. All of these maintain a clear division between state and civil society, based on respect for civil liberties and property rights. Liberal democratic rule therefore typically coexists with a capitalist economic order. The ‘democratic’ element in liberal democracy is the idea of popular sovereignty: that power and authority is vested and should flow from the people. However, liberal democratic theory operationalizes it not through the collective decision-making of actual citizens as in direct forms of democracy. Rather, it relies on the notion of popular consent, expressed in practice through voting. Liberal democracy is thus a form of representative, electoral democracy, in that popular election is the source of legitimate political authority. Such elections must respect the principle of political equality; they must be based on universal and equal suffrage. For this reason, any system that restricts voting rights on grounds of gender, race, religion, economic status or whatever, fails the liberal democratic test. Finally, to be fully democratic, elections must be regular, open and, above all, competitive. The core of the liberal democratic process is the capacity of the people to hold politicians accountable. Political pluralism – open competition between political philosophies, movements, parties and so on – is the essence of democracy from the liberal perspective as it allows for this accountability. Liberal democracy is thus representative at its core. The nature of this representation is contested. For James Madison (p. 197) in Federalist 10, a representative republic constrained by a constitution would ‘refine and enlarge the public views, by passing them through the medium of a chosen body of citizens, whose wisdom may best discern the true interest of their country’ (Hamilton, Madison and Jay 2008). On the other hand, the tradition of ‘democratic elitism’ justifies liberal democracy based

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on its unique capacity to blend elite rule with popular participation. Government is entrusted to professional politicians, but these politicians are forced to respond to popular pressures by electoral necessity. Joseph Schumpeter (see p. 188) summed this up by describing the democratic method as ‘that institutional arrangement for arriving at political decisions in which individuals acquire the power to decide by means of a competitive struggle for the people’s vote’ ([1944] 1994). Thus, elite rule – government by experts – is balanced against public accountability. For more classically oriented liberals, this implies that in liberal democracies political power is wielded by voters at election time. The voter exercises the same power in politics as the consumer does in economic markets. For liberal pluralists, this accountability is strengthened by the existence of a vigorous civil society, allowing citizens to exert influence on government through pressure groups. Liberal democracies are therefore pluralist: political power is widely dispersed among many competing groups and interests, each of which can access government.

BEYOND THE WEST DEMOCRACY IN AFRICAN POLITICAL THOUGHT There are two main traditions of African political thought. The first consists of Indigenous African thought, which developed during the so-called golden age of African history and refers to the governance of ancient kingdoms and empires (such as Egypt, Kush/Nubia, Ghana, Mali and Songhay). The second tradition emerged in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, against a backdrop of Western colonialism. It was developed by scholars and statesmen who had, in some way, encountered Western political ideas or structures, but sought to reshape these in the light of the values, traditions and historical circumstances found in Africa. The two most influential sub-traditions this produced were African nationalism and African socialism and, although Indigenous African thought played a more marginal role, it was still influential. This, for example, enabled Julius Nyerere (1964), President of Tanzania, 1964–85, to declare that, ‘We, in Africa, have no more need to be “converted” to socialism than we have of being “taught” democracy.’ Indigenous African political systems often featured mechanisms of accountability and responsiveness that sustained a broadly democratic culture (Martin 2012). In the first place, they tended to incorporate elaborate systems of checks and balances, with institutions such as the Inner or Privy Council and the Council of Elders acting as an effective check on the abuse of power by leaders (chiefs, kings or emperors). Second, political succession was carefully institutionalized in such a way that family, clan and ethnic competition for power was minimized and (physically or mentally) unfit would-be leaders were automatically eliminated. Third, the basic political unit was the village assembly, which made most major decisions and allowed ordinary people to participate actively in a decision-making process. Fourth, as bodies such as the Council of Elders tended to make decisions through consensus, minority views had to be considered. Finally, women played a key role in traditional African societies. In Ancient Egypt, for instance, women were masters of their homes and senior to their husbands, and children were named after them.

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Liberal democracy has been subject to widespread criticism in Western political thought. Its principal critics have been elitists, Marxists (see p. 249) and radical democrats. Elitists argue that political power is concentrated in the hands of the few, the elite. Whereas classical elitists (early twentieth century) believed this to be a necessary and, in many cases, desirable feature of political life, modern elitists have developed an essentially empirical analysis of political power. So while Schumpeter advanced a form of democratic elitism that justified power being exercised by an elite, if competition among elites persisted, C. Wright Mills’s ([1956] 2000) later elite theory argued that industrialized societies such as the United States are dominated by a ‘power elite’, a small cohesive group that commands ‘the major hierarchies and organizations of modern society’. Such a theory suggests that power is institutional in character and largely vested in the non-elected bodies of the state system, including the military, the bureaucracy, the judiciary and the police. From this perspective, the principle of political equality and the process of electoral competition in liberal democracy are democratically ineffective. The traditional Marxist critique of liberal democracy has focused on the inherent tension between democracy and capitalism. For liberals, the right to own property is the cornerstone of democratic rule as it provides an essential guarantee of individual liberty. Democracy can exist only when citizens enjoy the economic freedom of private property and a market economy; capitalism is a necessary precondition for democracy. Marx and Engels, in contrast, argued that there is inherent tension between the political equality which liberal democracy proclaims and the social inequality which a capitalist economy generates. Liberal democracies are ‘bourgeois’ democracies, manipulated by the entrenched power of private property. Such an analysis inclined revolutionary Marxists such as Lenin (see p. 250), Ellen Meiksins Wood (1942–2016) and Rosa Luxemburg (1871–1919) to reject a ‘democratic road’ to socialism. An alternative tradition nevertheless recognizes that electoral democracy gives the working masses a voice and may even be a vehicle for far-reaching socio-economic change. The German socialist leader Karl Kautsky (1854– 1938) was an exponent of this view, as were later Euro-communists. However, even when socialists have embraced the ballot box, they have been critical of the narrow conception of political equality as equal voting rights. If political power reflects the distribution of wealth, genuine democracy can only be achieved through social equality, or what early Marxists termed ‘social democracy’. Finally, in contemporary democratic theory, a broad group of ‘radical democrats’ have criticized liberal democracy claiming it is too limited and constrains the political goods democracy offers. This broad church usually locates its inspiration in Jean-Jacques Rousseau (see p. 205), the Marxist tradition and more recent participatory theory. In this sense, it is often more focused on the non-institutional and bottom-up aspects of democracy, and argues these represent the genuine inclusivity and normative appeal of democracy as a means of decision-making. Chantal Mouffe and William E. Connolly, for example, offer ‘agonist’ conceptions of democracy that emphasize that the value of democracy is its openness and capacity to rewrite politics and political institutions. Jacques Derrida, the French post-structuralist thinker, called this the ‘democracy to come’. In Rogues (2005), he says ‘democracy is the only system, the only constitutional paradigm, in which, in principle, one has or assumes the right to criticize everything publicly, including

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the idea of democracy, its concept, its history, and its name’. Democracy’s value is not an institution or balance of accountability but its openness to conflict and contestation. This means no institutional, normative or political issue is ever settled but always subject to a new popular decision.

Justifying and criticizing democracy Alongside these debates over the best form of democracy, there are continued conversations in the history of political thought over whether democracy is a desirable form of government. In fact, the longest conversation in political theory is about justifying or criticizing democracy as such. So while democracy in the West does have by the midtwentieth century intense normative appeal, the majority of the tradition has existed in a different conversation. From classical thought to the modern political thought of the English, American and French Revolutions, there was recurrent debate about the merits of democracy. Indeed, during the nineteenth century, when democracy was regarded as a radical and egalitarian creed, no issue polarized intellectual and political opinion so dramatically. The present unanimity about democracy should not disguise the fact that democrats have defended their views in very different ways at different times. While the history of democratic thought contains many arguments supporting democracy, most of the most influential justifications are instrumental: democracy is justified because of its consequences. Here, there are two key approaches, protective and developmental. Protective justifications of democracy focus on how democracy can ensure the protection of individual rights and liberty, especially from government. Perhaps the most basic of democratic sentiments was expressed in the Roman poet Juvenal’s question, ‘Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? [Who will guard the guardians?]’ Seventeenth-century social contract theorists also saw popular sovereignty as a way to check government power. John Locke (see p. 217), for instance, argued the vote was based on natural rights and, in particular, the right to property. If government possessed the power to expropriate property, through taxation, citizens were entitled to protect themselves by controlling the tax-making body. In other words, there should be ‘no taxation without representation’. To limit the franchise to property owners would not, however, qualify as democracy by contemporary standards. Universal suffrage was advanced by utilitarian theorists such as Jeremy Bentham (see p. 22). While, in his early writings Bentham advocated an enlightened despotism, he subsequently supported universal suffrage in the belief that each individual’s interests were of equal value, and that only they could be trusted to protect them. The developmental argument, often seen as more radical, holds that participation is a good in itself. Rousseau and Mill have usually been the principal exponents of this position. For Rousseau, democracy was a means through which human beings achieved autonomy. Individuals are, according to this view, free only when they obey laws that they themselves have made. Rousseau therefore extolled active participation in the life of the community. This idea, however, moves well beyond the conventional notion of electoral democracy and supports the more radical direct democracy. Rousseau ([1762] 1969), for example, derided elections employed in England, arguing that ‘the people of England are only free when they elect their Member of Parliament; as soon as they are elected, the people are slaves, they are nothing’. Although Mill did not go so far, remaining an

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advocate of electoral democracy, he believed that political participation was beneficial to both the individual and society. He proposed votes for women and the extension of the franchise to include all except illiterates, on educational grounds, suggesting that it would foster intellectual development, moral virtue and practical understanding. This, in turn, would create a more balanced society and ‘the general mental advancement of the community’. Other development arguments for democracy are clearly based on its communal, rather than individual, advantages. Democracy can, for instance, create social solidarity by giving all members a stake in the community. Rousseau expressed this idea in his belief that government should be based on the ‘general will’, or common good, rather than on the private will of each citizen. Political participation increases the feeling amongst individual citizens that they ‘belong’ to their community. Very similar considerations have inclined socialists and Marxists to support democracy, albeit in the form of ‘social democracy’ and not merely political democracy. From this perspective, democracy is an egalitarian force standing in opposition to any privilege or hierarchy. It represents the community rather than the individual, the collective interest rather than the particular.

TRADITION:  Social Democracy The term social democracy was originally used by Marxists to distinguish the narrow goal of political democracy from the more fundamental objectives of socialism. However, its modern usage was shaped by the tendency, from the late nineteenth century onwards, of democratic socialist parties to abandon the goal of abolishing capitalism for reforming capitalism. Social democracy argues for a balance between the market and the state, between the individual and community. The chief task of social democratic theory has therefore been to establish a compromise between an acceptance of capitalism as the mechanism for generating wealth and a desire to distribute wealth in accordance with moral, rather than market, principles. The characteristic emphasis of social democratic thought is a concern for the vulnerable in society. This can, in most cases, be seen as a development of the socialist tradition, either being shaped by attempts to revise Marxism (see p. 249) or emerging out of ethical socialism. Such developments usually involved the reexamination of capitalism and the rejection of the Marxist belief that the capitalist mode of production is characterized by systematic class

oppression. Nevertheless, social democracy lacks the theoretical structure of Marxism and is, arguably, not only rooted in socialism. Social democrats have drawn so heavily on modern liberal ideas such as positive freedom and equality of opportunity that it is difficult to distinguish between social democracy and modern liberalism (see p. 280). More recent developments within social democracy have involved an accommodation with principles such as community, social partnership and moral responsibility, reflecting parallels between ‘modernized’ social democracy and communitarianism (see p. 57). In the 1990s in various Anglo-American democracies, some ‘new’ social democrats adopted the idea of the ‘third way’ to highlight the need to revise traditional social democracy to take account of the pressures of globalized capitalism. Historically, social democracy represents a revivification of the humanist tradition within socialist thought, contrasting with the structural approach of Marxism. Its attempt to achieve a balance between equality and efficiency has been the centre ground towards which politics in most developed societies since the beginning of the twentieth century has tended

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to gravitate, even though the balance in recent decades has tended to favour the latter. From a Marxist perspective, however, social democracy amounts to a dilution of socialist principles, an attempt to legitimize a capitalist system in the name of socialist ideals. Nevertheless, social democracy’s central weakness is its lack of firm theoretical roots. Although social democrats have evinced an enduring commitment to equality and social justice, the kind of equality they support and the specific meaning they have given to social justice have constantly been revised. Key figures Eduard Bernstein (1850–1932)  A German socialist politician and theorist, Bernstein was responsible for the first systematic revision of Marxism. He drew attention to the failure of Marx’s predictions about the collapse of capitalism, pointing out that economic crises were becoming less, not more, acute. Bernstein rejected revolution and called for alliances with the liberal middle class and the peasantry, emphasizing the possibility of a gradual transition to socialism. Bernstein’s most significant work is Evolutionary Socialism ([1898] 1962).

Richard Henry Tawney (1880–1962)  A British social philosopher and historian, Tawney championed a form of socialism rooted in Christian social moralism unconnected with Marxist class analysis. The disorders of capitalism derived from the absence of a ‘moral ideal’, leading to widespread material inequality. The project of socialism is therefore to build a ‘common culture’ that will provide the basis for solidarity. Tawney’s major works include The Acquisitive Society (1921), Equality ([1931] 1969) and The Radical Tradition (1964). Anthony Crosland (1918–77)  A British politician and socialist theorist, Crosland built on Bernstein in attempting to give social democracy a theoretical basis. He argued that capitalism no longer needed to be abolished as the ownership of wealth had become divorced from its control, as economic decisions were made by salaried managers rather than owners. The task of socialism is thus to narrow distributive inequalities, rather than restructure ownership. Crosland’s best-known works include The Future of Socialism ([1956] 2006) and Socialism Now (1974).

Critics of democracy also tend take an instrumental approach, arguing that it has undesirable consequences. This focus is interesting as it suggests it is difficult to argue against democracy as a moral ideal (at least in modernity). These instrumental rejections of democracy have, like justifications, taken too many forms to address comprehensively. So this section highlights several of the most influential. First, there are citizenship or subjectivity criticisms that rely on human nature arguments that in some way the majority of citizens lack the intellectual, social or moral features required for democratic citizenship. Plato (see p. 49) offers the earliest, and perhaps most infamous, version of this argument. He believed in a radical form of natural inequality: human beings were born with souls of gold, silver or bronze, and were disposed towards very different stations in life. Each station had different forms of knowledge or good associated with it, and these were not appropriate to the task of ruling, which required knowledge of political and moral virtue. As a result, in Book VI of the Republic, he argued that members of the public are simply not competent to rule wisely in their own interests. He deploys two metaphors commonly described as ‘The Ship of State’ and the ‘People as a Beast’ to argue that the political ignorance of the majority undermines effective and just government. Instead, he advanced the idea of rule by the virtuous, by a class of philosopher-kings, the Guardians.

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In the twentieth century classical elite theorists (such as Vilfredo Pareto [1848–1923], Gaetano Mosca [1858–1941] and Robert Michels [1876–1936]) developed this argument from human nature to argue that democracy would not only have bad consequences, but that it was unsustainable. This is a stability criticism focused on whether democracy can be maintained. Democracy is merely a foolish delusion because political power is always exercised by an elite, a privileged minority. In The Ruling Class ([1896] 1939), Mosca proclaimed that in all societies ‘two classes of people appear – a class that rules and a class that is ruled’. In his view, the resources or attributes that are necessary for rule are always unequally distributed and, further, a cohesive minority will always be able to manipulate the masses, even in a parliamentary democracy. Drawing on Machiavelli, Pareto suggested that the qualities needed to rule conform to one of two psychological types: ‘foxes’, who rule by cunning and are able to manipulate the masses’ consent, and ‘lions’, whose domination is typically based on coercion. Michels proposed that elite rule followed from ‘the iron law of oligarchy’: it is in the nature of all organizations, however democratic they may appear, for power to concentrate in the hands of a small group of dominant figures, who can organize and make decisions. Finally, some claim that democracies divide their populations. These are largely majoritarian criticisms, that focus on the consequences of democracies empowering large groups (i.e. majorities) and disempowering small ones (i.e. minorities). This means that democracy is a substantial threat to individual liberty. For many theorists, ‘the people’ is not a single entity but rather a collection of individuals and groups, with differing opinions and interests. The ‘democratic solution’ to conflict or disagreement is a recourse to numbers and majority rule. Alexis de Tocqueville famously argued that this could lead to a ‘tyranny of the majority’ where a democratic majority undermines the interests and rights of individuals or minorities. J. S. Mill broadened this concern to the social-cultural consequences of this majoritarian logic. Mill argued that democratic election would not produce truth – wisdom cannot be determined by a show of hands – and would damage intellectual life by promoting uniformity and dull conformism. A similar view was expressed by James Madison (see p. 197) who argued that the best defence against such tyranny was a network of checks and balances, creating a highly fragmented system of government, often referred to as ‘Madisonian democracy’. Such concerns were developed in the twentieth century with claims that democracy places power in the hands of those least qualified to govern: the uneducated masses, those likely to be ruled by passion and instinct. In The Revolt of the Masses ([1930] 1961), for instance, Ortega y Gasset (1883–1955) warned that the arrival of mass democracy had led to the overthrow of civilized society and the moral order, paving the way for authoritarian rulers to come to power by appealing to the masses. Similarly, J. L. Talmon ([1952] 1970) argued that in the French Revolution the radical democratic theories of Rousseau made possible the brutality of the Terror, a phenomenon Talmon termed ‘totalitarian democracy’. Many have seen similar lessons in the plebiscitary forms of democracy that developed in twentieth-century fascist states, which sought to establish immediate relationships between the leader and the people through rallies, marches and demonstrations. In recent years, this has led to similar concerns around Western populist leaders who have also seemed inclined to circumvent liberal democratic institutions (such as the legislature or judiciary) to claim direct relationships of legitimacy with ‘the people’.

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THINKER JAMES MADISON (1751–1836) US statesman and political theorist, Madison was a keen advocate of American federal government. He helped to set up the Constitutional Convention in 1787, and played a major role in writing the Constitution. Madison served as Thomas Jefferson’s Secretary of State (1801–9) and was the fourth president of the United States (1809–17). Madison’s best-known political writings are his contributions to The Federalist (1787–8), which campaigned for constitutional ratification and supported a Federated United States of America against anti-federalists who supported independent states. He was a leading proponent of pluralism and divided government, believing that ‘ambition must be made to counteract ambition’. He therefore urged the adoption of federalism, bicameralism and the separation of powers. Madisonianism entails a strong emphasis on checks and balances as the principal means of preventing tyranny. His views on democracy, often referred to as ‘Madisonian democracy’, stressed the need to resist majoritarianism by recognizing the existence of diversity or multiplicity in society, and highlighted the need for disinterested elite representation independent from competing individual and sectional interests. Madison’s ideas have influenced liberal, republican and pluralist thought.

REPRESENTATION The dominance of liberal democracy means that modern and contemporary democratic theories are tied to the idea of representation. When citizens no longer rule directly, democracy is based on the claim that elected politicians serve as the people’s representatives. However, merely having representatives is not democracy. So theories of representation have had to prescribe how political representation can provide the legitimacy and responsiveness that democracy requires. To do so, it asks a difficult question: what does it mean to say that one person ‘represents’ another? In ordinary language, to represent means to portray or make present, as when a picture represents a scene. In politics, representation suggests that an individual or group somehow stands on behalf of a larger group. Hanna Pitkin, in her The Concept of Representation (1967), defined it as to ‘make present again’. Political representation creates a link between two otherwise separate entities – government and the governed – that somehow makes present the people in the exercise of political power. The nature of this link is, nevertheless, deeply contested, as is the capacity of representation to ensure democratic government. What exactly is represented by those who govern: interests, views, desires or identities? These different senses of representation have spawned many discussions. Below, we focus on three. First, representatives have sometimes been seen as people who ‘know better’ than others, and can act wisely in their interests. This implies that politicians should not be tied like delegates to the views of their constituents, but should use personal judgement. This is the independence theory of representation. Second, representation is tied to elections in liberal democracy. Emphasizing this produces a formalistic view

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of representation focused on how representatives receive a mandate from the people. What this mandate means and how it authorizes politicians to act is, however, highly contentious. Finally, the ‘likeness’ theory of representation understands it not as acting on behalf of someone, but one who is characteristic of a group. Politicians are representatives if they resemble their society in terms of age, gender, social class, ethnic background and so forth. Each theory of representation has dramatic consequences for who and how the people are represented.

Representatives and independence The independence theory of representation broadly holds that representatives should be understood as trustees, who use expertise to determine the democratically just position to hold. In this sense, representation is substantive, it is what is good for the people, but it is virtual (rather than actual) as it can deviate from the preferences, views and even interests of the represented. This position can be justified in a few different ways. In his famous speech to the electors of Bristol in 1774 Edmund Burke (see p. 28) claimed ‘your representative owes you, not his industry only, but his judgement; and he betrays, instead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion’ (Burke 1975). For Burke, the essence of representation was to serve one’s constituents by the exercise of ‘mature judgement’ and ‘enlightened conscience’. In short, representation is a moral duty: those who possess understanding should act in the interests of those they represent. In Burke’s view, this position was justified by the fear that if MPs took instructions directly from their constituents, Parliament would become a battleground for contending local interests, leaving no one to speak on behalf of the nation. ‘Parliament’, Burke emphasized, ‘is a deliberative assembly of one nation, with one interest, that of the whole.’ Burke’s point is thus that only a representative can move from the level of individual to national interest. J. S. Mill, whose ideas constitute the basis of the liberal theory of representation, makes a similar point. Though a firm believer in extending the franchise to working-class men, and an early advocate of female suffrage, Mill nevertheless rejected the idea that all political opinions are of equal value. He believed that the opinions of the educated are of a higher social, intellectual and moral value than those of the uneducated. He proposed a system of plural voting, allocating four or five votes to holders of learned diplomas or degrees, two or three to skilled or managerial workers, a single vote to ordinary workers and none at all to the illiterate. In addition, like Burke, he insisted that, once elected, representatives should use their reasoned discretion. Indeed, he argued that rational voters would wish for candidates with greater understanding than they possess themselves. They will want politicians who can act wisely on their behalf, not ones who merely reflect their own views. The theory of representation as independence, thus, portrays political knowledge and understanding as unequally distributed in society. If politicians act as delegates, who receive instructions without having the capacity to deviate from them, they may be bound by the ill-formed judgements of the masses. The independence theory of representation has also been subject to significant criticism. First, the basic principles of this theory have anti-democratic implications: if politicians should think for themselves rather than reflect the views of the represented because the public can be ignorant, poorly educated or deluded, it may be a mistake

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for them to choose representatives in the first place. Indeed, if education is the basis of representation, it could be argued that government should be entrusted to non-elected experts, selected, like the Mandarins of Imperial China, by some non-electoral means. Mill, in fact, did accept the need for a non-elected executive on such grounds. Second, the link between representation and education is questionable. Whereas education may aid understanding of intricate political and economic issues, it is less clear that it helps politicians to make moral and political judgements about the interests of others. There is little evidence to support Mill’s and Burke’s claim that education gives a broader sense of social responsibility and a greater willingness to act altruistically. The most serious criticism of the independence theory is that it grants representatives a degree of power that compromises democratic goals. By allowing representatives significant discretion, they will become insulated from popular pressures and end up acting in their own interests. In this way, representation could become a substitute for democracy. This was the focus of democrats such as Thomas Paine (p. 107), who was a keen advocate of popular sovereignty. Unlike Rousseau, he recognized the need for some form of representation. Nevertheless, the theory of representation Paine advocated in Common Sense ([1776] 1987) came close to the ideal of delegation. Paine proposed ‘frequent interchange’ between representatives and their constituents in the form of regular elections designed to ensure that ‘the elected might never form to themselves an interest separate from the electors’. In addition to frequent elections, Paine supported the idea of popular initiatives, a system through which the public can make legislative proposals, and the right of recall, which entitles the electorate to call unsatisfactory elected officials to account and ultimately to remove them. From this point of view, the democratic ideal is realized only if representatives are bound to the views of the represented. Some have argued that representation is only meaningful if representatives are physically ‘close’ to those whom they represent. Such a stance suggests not only that decentralization is a key democratic principle, but that it is deeply unwise to attempt democracy beyond the parameters of the nation, as in ‘cosmopolitan democracy’ (p. 235).

Mandate theory The mandate theory of representation thinks of representatives as strongly bound by those they represent. In this sense, it sees representatives as delegates who take decisions, views, priorities forward from the represented to larger legislative or other contexts. The role of the representative is to mirror or convey the views collected from constituents, to think and speak as they would if they had the platform. In this sense, the representative is meant, insofar as it is possible, to embody their views. They are actual, rather than virtual, representatives. Understanding representatives as delegates has not had a significant presence in liberal democratic theory. Rather, most advocates of it have been from republican and socialist conceptions of democracy. Rousseau, for example, argued that ‘the people’s deputies are not, and could not be, its representatives; they are merely its agents; and they cannot decide anything finally’ ([1762] 1969). To give representatives such powers is not popular sovereignty. Similarly, Marxist and socialist thinkers argue that any sort of professional representation will compromise the collective interests democracy pursues and, in the context of class inequality, will always serve the interest of the ruling class. Such

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arguments proved very influential in the way union representation and socialist political organization developed in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. One way the delegate model has been included in more liberal and mainstream democratic theory is through the idea of mandates. This ties representation strongly to elections and the way elections choose representatives with a mandate that constrains them. In this way, the most common way of imposing meaning on an election result is to interpret it as providing a ‘mandate’ for the winning candidate or party. A mandate is an authoritative instruction or command. The doctrine of mandate is based on the willingness of parties to set out policy proposals through speeches and manifestos. These proposals are, in effect, electoral promises, indicating what the party is committed to doing if elected. The act of voting can thus be understood as the expression of a preference from amongst the various policy programmes on offer. Victory in the election is therefore a reflection of the popularity of one set of proposals over its rivals. In this light, it can be argued that the winning party not only enjoys a popular mandate to carry out its manifesto pledges but has a duty to do so. The great merit of the mandate doctrine is that it seems to impose meaning on an election, and offers popular guidance to those who exercise government power. The mandate theory highlights the strong connection in liberal democracy between representation and electoral mechanisms. This does not, however, explain how elections should exactly serve as a representative mechanism, or how they link the elected to electors. An election is a device for filling public offices by measuring popular preferences. That said, electoral systems widely diverge, some being seen as more democratic or representative than others. There are significant differences among competitive electoral systems. In countries such as the United Kingdom, the United States and India, plurality systems exist, based on the ‘first-past-the-post’ rule – the victorious candidate needs only to acquire more votes than any single rival. Such systems do not seek to equate the overall number of seats won by each party with the number of votes it gains in the election. Typically, plurality systems ‘over-represent’ large parties and ‘under-represent’ smaller ones. By contrast, proportional electoral systems, used throughout continental Europe, employ devices to ensure a closer relationship between the votes cast for each party and the seats eventually won. Both systems present issues for the mandate theory. In countries with plurality electoral systems governments can be formed based on a plurality of votes rather than an overall majority. When more voters oppose the elected government or administration than support it, it seems frankly absurd to claim that it enjoys a mandate. On the other hand, proportional systems, which tend to lead to coalition governments, also go awry for mandate democracy. Government policies are often hammered out through post-election deals negotiated by coalition partners. In the process, the policies with strong support may be altered through negotiation. There is, therefore, no basis to assume those who voted for one of the coalition parties will be satisfied by the compromise. Indeed, it may have no mandate because no set of voters endorsed it. How elections can produce a mandate is not the only issue with mandate theory. For example, if strictly applied, it acts as a straightjacket, limiting government policies to those positions and proposals the party adopted during the previous election, leaving little capacity to adjust policies in the light of ever-changing circumstances. The doctrine is therefore limited in relation to events such as international and economic crises that

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crop up unexpectedly. As a result, the more flexible notion of a ‘mandate to rule’ has sometimes been advanced in place of the conventional ‘policy mandate’. The idea of a mandate to rule is, however, hopelessly vague and comes close to investing politicians with unrestricted authority simply because they won an election. Second, some critics argue mandate theory is based on a questionable model of electoral behaviour. It portrays voters as rational creatures, whose political preferences are determined by issues and policy. There is abundant evidence that many voters are poorly

THINKING GLOBALLY COSMOPOLITAN DEMOCRACY The idea of cosmopolitan democracy has attracted growing attention in the late twentieth and twenty-first centuries due to the advance of globalization and the ‘hollowing out’ of democratic processes at the level of the nation state. If policy-making has expanded from national governments to international organizations, surely democracy should be extended to the global level? Rival models of cosmopolitan democracy have been advanced. The first model involves the construction of a world parliament, a body that would introduce greater scrutiny and openness to the process of global decisionmaking by calling established international organizations (such as the United Nations, the WTO, the IMF and the World Bank) to account. Very few advocates of this idea advocate a fully fledged world government or global state; most favour a multi-level system of post-sovereign governance in which supra-state bodies, state-level bodies and sub-state bodies would interact without any final authority. David Held (1995) thus proposed the establishment of a ‘global parliament’, reformed and more accountable regional and global political bodies, and the ‘permanent shift of a growing proportion of a nation state’s coercive capacity to regional and global institutions’. The second model of cosmopolitan democracy is less ambitious; it looks to reform existing international bodies, rather than construct new ones. This could be

done by boosting the role within international organizations of non-governmental organizations (NGOs) and other citizens’ bodies, helping to counterbalance the influence of transnational corporations and global markets. Such ‘globalization from below’ would be effective to the extent that these groups can introduce public scrutiny and accountability to the working of international bodies, providing a channel of communication between the individual and global institutions. The idea of cosmopolitan democracy has been deeply criticized. Any global institution, however structured, tasked with ensuring public accountability may be doomed to failure. The inevitable gulf (geographical and political) between popularly elected global political institutions and ordinary citizens around the world means that any claim that such institutions are representative or democratic would be problematic. In this light, democracy is only meaningful if it is local or national in character; any international body, whether regional or global, will suffer from a ‘democratic deficit’. Moreover, the democratic credentials of NGOs and social movements have been challenged. For instance, how can NGOs be in the forefront of democratization when they are entirely non-elected bodies? NGOs and social movements cannot, thus, be said to exercise democratic authority, especially as there is no way of testing the weight of their views against the global population’s.

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informed about manifestos. Voters are also influenced, perhaps to a significant extent, by ‘irrational’ factors such as the personality, party image or habitual allegiances formed through social conditioning. Indeed, electoral campaigns fought largely on television and the internet have strengthened such tendencies by focusing on personalities rather than policies, and on images rather than issues. It is thus questionable to assume a vote for a party is an endorsement of its manifesto’s contents. Moreover, even if voters are influenced by policies, it is likely that they will be attracted by certain manifesto commitments, and not others. A vote for a party cannot be taken to indicate approval of its entire manifesto. Elections are inherently vague and provide no reliable guide about which policies led one party to victory and others to defeat.

Representation as likeness The likeness theory of representation is based less on how representatives are selected than whether they resemble those represented. This notion of representation is embodied in the idea of a ‘representative cross-section’. To be ‘representative’ in this sense is a descriptive relation that one is drawn from a group and shares its characteristics. A representative government would therefore be a microcosm of the larger society, containing proportional members drawn from all groups in terms of social class, gender, religion, ethnicity, age and so on. This theory of representation has enjoyed support amongst a broad range of theorists. It has, for instance, been accepted by many socialists, who have long argued that a key obstacle to democracy exists in the fact that the political elite – ministers, senior civil servants, judges, etc. – are drawn disproportionately from the ruling class. Because the working classes are ‘under-represented’ in government, their interests are marginalized. Feminist theorists (see p. 308) similarly suggest that patriarchy, the dominance of the male sex, operates in part through the exclusion of women from public life. Anti-racist and multiculturalist campaigners argue that disadvantage is perpetuated by the ‘underrepresentation’ of ethno-cultural minorities in government and elsewhere. Indigenous political thinkers have, finally, argued that the forms of symbolic and legal representation of First Nations are either non-existent or inadequate to their status as original inhabitants. Likeness representation is based on the belief that representation requires representatives be drawn from the group they represent. This claim can be made on substantive lines, that this ensures the representation of that groups’ interests. To represent means to speak for, or on behalf of, others, which is impossible if representatives do not have personal knowledge of those they represent. In its crudest form, this argument suggests that people are conditioned by their backgrounds and are incapable of understanding the views of different people. In its more sophisticated form it draws a distinction between empathizing and directly experiencing what other people go through, something that engages a deeper emotional response. This implies, for example, that although a man may sympathize with women’s interests and support the principle of sexual equality, his experience precludes a full understanding of women’s problems that is required to represent them. In the same way, white liberals may be concerned by racial inequality but, never having experienced racism, will not understand it in a way that can represent those interests. Beyond the issue of interests, the likeness argument can also be symbolic. There is a symbolic value to having political institutions mirror back the diversity of the political community.

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This theory of representation is, in some ways, the most controversial for at least two reasons. First, it seems to rely on a simplistic account of social identity that believes we can narrowly select one feature of a potential representative and isolate it from other social identities they might have. In selecting any candidate as a representative of this gender, race, culture or religion we ignore that they belong to a series of other social groups that may pit their interests or views against the one represented. Second, some critics regard it as a positive threat to democracy rather than a necessary precondition. This theory sees representation in narrow terms as only about identity. Only a woman can represent women; only a Black person can represent other Black people; only a member of the working class can represent the working classes, and so on. If all representatives are concerned to advance the interests of sectional groups they belong to, who is prepared to defend the common good, a key democratic ideal? Indeed, this form of representation may simply foment social conflict.

THE PUBLIC GOOD One of the fundamental normative values of and justifications for democracy is that it benefits people. Its appeal is wrapped up in modernity with its unique ability to claim value for every member of a political community. In this sense, democracy’s wide inclusion capacity is the source of its strength. Importantly, this has flow-on effects for how political justification occurs within democratic dialogue and the public sphere where, generally, it is important to justify decisions, policies or institutions by reference to the idea that they serve the people. This is especially important in a representative system, where the opportunity for direct popular participation is limited. Ideas of the ‘common good’ or ‘public interest’, as the aim of some decision, support the claim to rule democratically and the idea that government serves the people. While appeals to the common good and public interest in everyday politics are often banal, this notion has played a vital role in political theory, and constitutes a major plank of the democratic ideal. It has, however, been subjected to stern scrutiny, especially since the late twentieth century. First, many scholars, especially in the liberal tradition, have argued that it is difficult to distinguish between the private interests of each citizen and their collective or public interests. For some, the concept is misleading or simply incoherent. Second, there has been considerable debate over how the public interest can be defined. Finally, this has precipitated debate about measuring the public good, and led to the suggestion that, though democracy may be desirable, there may be no constitutional or electoral mechanism adequate to gauge it.

Private and public interests In liberal theory, the idea of the public good has often been framed through interests and the distinction between private and public. As discussed in Chapter 4, in political theory ‘interest’ is usually defined as a benefit or advantage; something someone wants or is good for them. The public interest is what is ‘good’ for the people as a group. However, several issues emerge here. First, defining interest requires more detail. What does this ‘good’ consist of, and who can define it? Are interests simply desires, defined subjectively by everyone. If so, interests must be consciously acknowledged or manifest in

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behaviour. Liberal thought, for example, tends to identify interests as ‘stated preferences’. However, an interest can be thought of as a need, requirement or even necessity, of which the individual may be entirely unconscious. This suggests a distinction between ‘felt’ or subjective interests, and genuine or ‘objective’ interests. Second, the idea of a public good or interest raises a deeper problem of definition: what is the nature of an interest that is held collectively? Assuming even moderate diversity within a group, is a public good simply what most individuals want or need? Or is there a distinct level of interest in a democratic society, a level of collective being, that goes beyond individuals and constitutes the common good? The theoretical problem of defining interests stands behind any discussion of the public interest. Those who insist that all interests are ‘felt’ interests, or revealed preferences, hold that individuals are the only, or best, judges of what is good for them. By contrast, theorists who favour ‘real’ interests may argue that the concept of interest is critical only if they are taken to be something objective that individuals can be mistaken or systematically manipulated around. However, Brian Barry (2011) attempted to bridge the gap between these two concepts by defining a person’s interests as ‘that which increases his or her opportunities to get what he or she wants’. This accepts that interests are ‘wants’ that can only be defined subjectively by the individual, but suggests that those individuals who fail to select rational means of achieving their ends do not recognize their own best interests. ‘Private’ interests are normally thought to be self-regarding, and usually materialistic, interests of individuals or groups. This idea is based on long-established liberal beliefs about human nature, in which individuals are separate and independent agents, each advancing his or her perceived interests. In short, individuals are egoistical and selfinterested. This notion of private interests is inevitably linked to conflict, or at least competition. If private individuals act rationally, they will prefer their own interests to others’. Socialists, however, have typically rejected this image. Rather than being narrowly self-interested, socialists believe human beings to be sociable and cooperative, bound to one another by a common humanity. The belief that human nature is essentially social has profound implications for any notion of private interests. To the extent that individuals are concerned about the ‘good’ of their fellow human beings, their private interests become indistinguishable from the collective interests of all. In other words, socialists challenge the very distinction between private and public interests, a position that inclines them to natural social harmony (see Chapter 6), rather than conflict and competition. Despite these extremes, most debates in political theory operate with a distinction between private and public interest. The difficulty this causes tends to be on the public end. Because of the dominance of liberal political thought in modernity, it has often been the conception of public or common good that has been treated sceptically, and the onus of justification has, as a result, fallen there. Any concept of the public interest must, in the first place, be based on a clear understanding of what ‘public’ means. ‘The public’ stands for all members of a community, not merely the largest number or even the overall majority. Whereas private interests are multiple and competing, the public interest is single and indivisible; it is that which benefits every member of the public.

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However, there are two, rather different, conceptions of what might constitute the public interest. The first is based on the idea of shared or common interests. In this view, individuals share an interest if they perceive that the same action or policy will benefit them, in the sense that their interests overlap. The public interest therefore constitutes those private interests that all members of the community hold in common. For example, defence against external aggression, a goal that all citizens could be expected to share, is a prime example. The more radical notion of the public interest is not based on shared private interests but the interests of the public as a collective body. Instead of seeing the public as a collection of individuals, whose interests may or may not overlap, this view portrays the public as a collective entity possessed of distinct common interests. The classic proponent of this idea was Rousseau, who conceptualized it as the ‘general will’. In The Social Contract, Rousseau defined the general will as that ‘which tends always to the preservation and welfare of the whole’ ([1762] 1969). The general will represents the collective interests of society; it will benefit all citizens, rather than merely private individuals. Rousseau thus drew a clear distinction between the general will and the selfish, private will of each citizen. The general will is what the people pursue when they think from the perspective of the political community. The difficulty with this notion of the public interest is that, so long as they persist in being selfish, it cannot be constructed based on the felt preferences of individuals. It is possible, in other words, that citizens may not recognize the general will as their own, even though Rousseau clearly believed that it reflected the collective interests of the political community. As a result, Rousseau argues that public interest can only be pursued dialogically through the active participation of every citizen.

THINKER JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU (1712–78) Geneva-born French moral and political philosopher. Rousseau moved to Paris in 1742, and became an intimate of leading members of the French Enlightenment, especially Diderot. His autobiography, Confessions (1770), examines his life and his often difficult personal and social relations. Rousseau was perhaps the principal intellectual influence on the French Revolution. His writings, which ranged over education, the arts, science, literature and philosophy, reflected a deep belief in the potential of ‘natural man’ and corruption of ‘social man’. Rousseau’s political teaching, summarized in Émile ([1762] 1978) and developed in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969), advocates a radical form of democracy that has influenced liberal, socialist, anarchist and, some would argue, fascist thought. He departed from earlier social contract theories in being unwilling to separate free individuals from the process of government. His aim was to devise a form of authority to which the people can be subject without losing their freedom. In this light, he proposed that government be based on the ‘general will’, reflecting the collective good of the community as opposed to the ‘particular’, and selfish, will of each citizen. Rousseau believed that freedom consists in political participation, obedience to the general will, meaning that he was prepared to argue that individuals can be ‘forced to be free’. He envisaged such a political system operating in small, relatively egalitarian communities united by a shared civil religion.

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Justifying the public good Despite the centrality of the common good to modern and contemporary political theory, the concept has often been subject to a variety of criticisms. The most dramatic version is the argument that it is nonsensical: the public cannot have an interest. This position is often associated with the classical liberal tradition. For example, Jeremy Bentham developed a moral and political philosophy on the basis that individuals sought to maximize what he called ‘utility’, calculated in terms of the quantity of pleasure over pain experienced by each individual. In other words, only individuals have interests, and they alone can define their interest. From this perspective, any notion of a public interest is a fallacy; the interests of the community are at best what Bentham called ‘the sum of the interests of the several members who compose it’ (1948). The notion of a public interest as shared private interests therefore makes little sense simply because each member of the community will strive for something different: a collection of private interests does not add up to a coherent ‘public interest’. Critics of the common good attack both major conceptions of the public interest. On the one hand, in terms of the understanding of public good as overlapping interests, they often argue that the issues over which all citizens would agree (e.g. the need for public order or defence) are limited. Even when there is general agreement about a broad goal, there will be profound differences about how to realize it. For instance, is order more likely to be promoted by social equality and respect for civil liberty, or by stiff penalties and strict policing? On the other hand, Bentham’s views contrast even more starkly with the notion of the collective interests of the community. Rousseau’s idea of the general will is problematic, on this account, because collective entities such as ‘society’, the ‘community’ and the ‘public’ do not exist as entities that can have an interest. The nearest Bentham came to acknowledging a collectivity was his notion of general utility, defined as ‘the greatest happiness for the greatest number’. However, this formula merely accepts that public policy should be designed to satisfy the ‘greatest number’ of private interests, not that it can serve the interests of all members of the public. In fact, its very logic of calculating where most interests lie assumes this is impossible. Similar debates and criticisms have operated in political science. Modern pluralist theorists, such as Robert Dahl (p. 188) and rational choice or ‘public choice’ theorists, agree in viewing politics in terms of competition between various private groups or interests. The emergence of organized groups is explained in terms of rational, selfinterested behaviour. Individuals who are powerless when they act separately can exert influence by acting collectively with others who share similar interests. For example, this can explain the emergence of trade unionism: the threat of strike action by a single worker can be disregarded, but an all-out strike by the entire workforce cannot. This interpretation acknowledges the existence of shared interests and the importance of collective action. However, it challenges the collective idea of a public interest. Interest groups are ‘sectional’ pressure groups, representing a part of society (e.g. ethnic or religious groups, trade unions, professional associations, employer’s groups). Each sectional group has a distinctive interest, which it seeks to advance through a process of influence. This leaves no room, however, for a public interest: each group places its interest before those of the whole society. Indeed, the pluralist view of society as a collection of competing interests does not allow for society itself to have collective interests.

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Despite these criticisms, the concept of a public interest has been defended by many theorists. Its defence usually takes one of two forms. The first rejects the philosophical assumptions on which the individualist attack is based, questioning the image of human beings as essentially self-interested. It is clear, for example, that Rousseau regarded selfishness not as a natural impulse but as evidence of social corruption; human beings are plastic and historical creatures deeply affected by the norms of their communities, and subject to development across time. He argued their communal nature was key to social development and genuine autonomy and so he was anti-individualist in this sense. Socialists uphold the idea of the common good on the same grounds. Individuals are not isolated creatures vying against one another, but social animals who share a genuine concern about fellow human beings and are bound together by common human needs. The second form defends the concept of the public interest from the perspective of overlapping interests, without relying on overt claims about human nature. This can be done through reference to what economists call ‘public goods’: goods or services from which all individuals derive benefit but that none has an incentive to produce. Environmental concerns such as energy conservation and pollution are strong examples of a public interest. The avoidance of pollution and the conservation of finite energy resources are undoubtedly public goods in that they are vital for both human health and the long-term survival of the human species. These can therefore be said to constitute the ‘real’ interest of individuals. However, following Barry, this can perhaps be a case of individuals and groups demonstrating that they do not recognize their own best interests. All people acknowledge the need for a healthy environment, but acting only on their own interests, they may not act to secure one. In economics, this has been called ‘the Tragedy of the Commons’. In such circumstances, the public interest can only be safeguarded by government intervention, designed to curb the pursuit of private interests for the collective benefit of the whole society.

Measuring the public good The concept of the public good raises a problem for the representative and electoral focus of contemporary liberal democracies. As discussed above, in liberal democracy representatives have a key role in connecting the people to government; in a sense, they are the conduits through which the government accesses public interests to, ideally, act on them. These democracies operationalize the public good in terms of the conceiving of it as the overall balance of interests in the political community. However, this claim relies on elections being reliable mechanisms for measuring voter preferences. Only in this way can governments hope to be selected who have proposed what most citizens want. So, this model requires that the electoral process ensures government in the public interest. One of the most influential arguments for this has actually come from outside political theory in Anthony Downs’s An Economic Theory of Democracy (1957). Downs explained the democratic process through an economic model of behaviour. He believed that electoral competition creates, in effect, a political market, in which politicians act as entrepreneurs bent on achieving government power, and individual voters behave like consumers, voting for the party whose policies most closely reflect their preferences. Downs believed that a system of open, competitive elections guarantees democratic rule because it places government in the hands of the party whose values and policies

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most closely correspond to the preferences of the largest group. Moreover, democratic competition incentivizes policy consensus, as parties are encouraged to shift their policies towards the ‘centre ground’, to appeal to the largest number. Although the ‘economic theory of democracy’ does not contain an explicit concept of the public interest, it attempts to explain how electoral competition ensures that government pays regular attention to the preferences of most of the enfranchised population. This is a rough approximation of the public interest. Downs’s model of democratic politics has its limits. In the first place, it assumes a relatively homogeneous society, forcing parties to develop moderate policies that will have broad appeal. In deeply divided societies, party competition may ensure government in the interests of the largest sectional group. Second, it could be argued that party competition shifts politics away from the public interest since it encourages parties to frame policies which appeal to the immediate private or sectional interests of voters rather than more abstract, shared interests. For example, parties are noticeably reluctant to propose policies to limit the use of finite fossil fuels, or to tackle problems such as climate change, because such policies, though in the long-term public interest, bear significant short-term costs that may cost votes. Third, Downs’s model may have questionable assumptions about the rationality of the electorate and the pragmatic nature of electoral politics. As discussed previously, voters may be poorly informed about political issues and their electoral preferences may be shaped by a range of ‘irrational’ factors such as habit, social conditioning, the image of the party and the personality of its leader. Similarly, parties are not always prepared to construct policies simply based on their electoral appeal; to some extent, they attempt to shape the political agenda and influence the values of voters. Finally, the responsiveness of the political market to voters’ preferences may also be affected by the level of party competition, or lack of it. In countries such as Japan and Sweden where single parties have enjoyed long periods of uninterrupted power, the political market is distorted by monopolistic tendencies. Two-party systems, such as in the United States, can be described as duopolistic. Even the multiparty systems of continental Europe can be seen as oligopolistic, since coalition partners operate like cartels restricting competition and blocking entry into the market. On a more theoretical level, there is a more fundamental problem that there may be no constitutional or elective mechanism that can reliably measure public interest. Downs’s ‘economic’ theory assumes voters only have a single preference because traditional electoral systems offer a single vote. However, in any issue-area a wide range of policy options are available. In the face of many options, voters will have a scale of preferences that could be indicated through a preferential voting system. The significance of such preferences was first highlighted in welfare economics by Kenneth Arrow, whose Social Choice and Individual Values ([1951] 2013) discussed the problem of ‘transitivity’. This suggests that when voters can express a number of preferences it may be impossible to establish which option genuinely enjoys public support. Take, for instance, the example of an election in which candidate A gains 40 per cent of the vote, candidate B receives 34 per cent, and candidate C gets 26 per cent. In such a situation it is clearly possible to argue that no party represents the public interest because none receives an overall majority of votes – though candidate A could obviously make the strongest claim to do so on the

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grounds of achieving a plurality, more votes than any other single candidate. However, from another perspective, each candidate had a majority voting against it. The situation becomes more confused when second preferences are considered. Let us assume that the second preferences of all candidate A supporters go to candidate C, the second preferences of candidate B favour candidate A, and the second preferences of candidate C go to candidate B. This creates a situation in which each candidate could claim to be preferred by most voters. The combined first and second preferences for candidate A add up to 74 per cent (40 per cent plus B’s 34 per cent); candidate B could claim 60 per cent support from the electorate (34 per cent plus C’s 26 per cent); and candidate C could claim 66 per cent support (26 per cent plus A’s 40 per cent). In other words, an examination of the second (or more) preferences of voters can lead to the problem of ‘cyclical majorities’ in which it is difficult to arrive at a collective choice that could reasonably be described as being in the public interest. Although A’s claim to office may still be the strongest, it is severely compromised by the majorities that B and C also enjoy. Arrow described this as the ‘impossibility theorem’. It suggests that even if the concept of a public interest is meaningful, it may be impossible to define that interest in practice through any existing electoral arrangements. The implications of Arrow’s work for democratic theory are profound. The challenges of connecting electoral mechanisms to the public good motivated what, arguably, has become the dominant theory of democracy in the contemporary literature: deliberative democratic theory. Associated with figures such as Jürgen Habermas, Joshua Cohen, James Fishkin and John Dryzek, deliberative theory is a theory of democracy focused on improving the quality and legitimacy of democratic mechanisms. They reject both the economic conception of democracy in Downs and social choice theory, as well as the fixation on elections generally in liberal theory. Instead, they argue the legitimacy of democracy as a decision-making system is not about its relation to the actual will of voters, but its relation to the formation of ‘reasonable’ political judgement. For deliberationists, democracy is a process of reasoning, of giving and asking for reasons in dialogue with others. The point is not to measure fixed preferences but to engage people in processes that encourage them to reflect on and challenge those preferences. As Cohen notes (1997), ‘The notion of a deliberative democracy is rooted in the intuitive ideal of a democratic association in which the justification of the terms and conditions of association proceeds through public argument and reasoning among equal citizens.’ When people deliberate under appropriate conditions, they produce legitimate outcomes because they are forced to discuss considering the common good. Much of deliberative theory has been about how to establish these deliberative exercises to achieve these ends. As such, for a normative theory it has been remarkably applied, producing deliberative ‘experiments’ and ‘exercises’ in a variety of national contexts on contentious issues such as climate change policy, Indigenous recognition and transitional justice. Finally, radical democratic theory questions both the standards of measurement and rational deliberation as measures of the public good. As discussed above, radical democratic theory is a broad church of critical positions on democracy. Most often it is associated with the agonist theories of democracy that have entered the mainstream of Anglo-American democratic theory since the 1980s. While there are many positions, it is broadly radically pluralist, arguing that notions of the common good homogenize

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complex political societies structured by deep power differences and contending identities. It is critical of all the major theories of democracy: liberal, social choice, deliberative (and beyond). While normatively valuing democracy and inclusion, it also sees deep tensions, what Chantal Mouffe called ‘The Democratic Paradox’ in democracy. For example, in Democracy and Political Theory (1988) Claude Lefort, characterized democracy as ultimately based on the authority of an ‘empty space’. Since sovereignty and legitimacy flow from the people, a broad and inchoate body that does not have substance, it ‘appears to belong to no one, except to the people in the abstract’. Radical democrats have thus employed critical approaches to expose the constitutive tensions and ongoing exclusions of liberal democracies, and have been substantive critical interlocutors for deliberative theory.

CONCLUSION The concerns around representation and the possibility of a public good in democracy have led to a unique scholarly field in contemporary democratic theory. In one sense, this is a deeply rich field of enquiry, with live theoretic debates and many connections to empirical work in political science and beyond. The most recent decades have been consumed by the debates within deliberative theory, undoubtedly, as well as, to a lesser extent, radical democratic criticisms thereof. Further, liberal democracy remains a substantial discussion, especially around concepts of representation, the public good and, increasingly, non-Western democratic theory. Unsurprisingly, recent instability in Western liberal democracies has become a substantial focus. Populism is a live area of theoretical debate as there is substantial debate over what the term even refers to. Similarly, forms of ‘democratic scepticism’ and critique are alive again, often repeating classical criticisms of democracies problematic assumptions about voter competence and willingness. This trend is demonstrative. Debates in democratic theory in the Western tradition from the long view are cyclical between advocates of more and direct participating and sceptics seeking to limit the involvement of the masses in favour of elite, expert government. This cycle, at present, seems unlikely to end soon.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS JEAN-JACQUES ROUSSEAU’S THE SOCIAL CONTRACT ([1762] 1969), BK 1, CHS 6-7; BK 3, CHS 1 AND 4 The Social Contract occupies at least two important junctures in the history of modern political thought. On the one hand, it represents the linking of the social contract tradition (p. 47) with modern democratic theory (p. 187). Rousseau uses the social contract to argue for a model of political community that places legislative authority firmly in the broad populace. On the other hand, this model has not only been deeply influential on both liberal and republican thought but also represented a reconciliation between the two. Rousseau argues for a form of collective political community he thinks would protect and provide for the development of individuals. The assigned sections represent his key reflections on the social contract, the nature of sovereignty and the viability of democracy. He argues for a totalizing contract that prescribes the full wedding of the individual with their political community and a model of absolute popular

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sovereignty. This represents one of the clearest endorsements of democracy in the modern Western tradition. However, this is not total democracy, as Rousseau argues that the people are solely legislative in their political role.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘These clauses, properly understood, may be reduced to one —the total alienation of each associate, together with all his rights, to the whole community; for, in the first place, as each gives himself absolutely, the conditions are the same for all; and, this being so, no one has any interest in making them burdensome to others.’ 2. ‘each man, in giving himself to all, gives himself to nobody; and as there is no associate over whom he does not acquire the same right as he yields others over himself, he gains an equivalent for everything he loses, and an increase of force for the preservation of what he has’. 3. ‘But the body politic or the Sovereign, drawing its being wholly from the sanctity of the contract, can never bind itself, even to an outsider, to do anything derogatory to the original act, for instance, to alienate any part of itself, or to submit to another Sovereign.’ 4. ‘We have seen that the legislative power belongs to the people, and can belong to it alone. It may, on the other hand, readily be seen, from the principles laid down above, that the executive power cannot belong to the generality as legislature or Sovereign, because it consists wholly of particular acts which fall outside the competency of the law, and consequently of the Sovereign, whose acts must always be laws.’ 5. ‘Besides, how many conditions that are difficult to unite does such a government presuppose! First, a very small State, where the people can readily be got together and where each citizen can with ease know all the rest; secondly, great simplicity of manners, to prevent business from multiplying and raising thorny problems; next, a large measure of equality in rank and fortune, without which equality of rights and authority cannot long subsist.’

Reading questions 1. What model of social contract does Rousseau argue for? 2. How does Rousseau try to reconcile freedom and authority? 3. What is Rousseau’s understanding of sovereignty? 4. What role must the people as a body play in political life? 5. What are the conditions of successful democracies?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What Is the difference between direct and

Indirect democracy? yy What is liberal democracy and what tensions appear to be fundamental to it? yy Is representation a precondition for democracy, or a substitute for democracy?

yy What different rationales can

representation take? What is the strength of these different theories? yy Can a meaningful distinction be drawn between private interest and the public interest? yy Why has the notion of the public good been in tension with liberalism?

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yy Why is it difficult to establish the public interest by electoral means?

yy How do deliberative and radical

democratic theory challenge liberal democracy?

FURTHUR READING Dunleavey, P. and Dryzek, J. Theories of the Democratic State (2009). A very clear overview of classical and contemporary theories of democracy, and the various assumptions they make about politics, people and equality. Held, D. Models of Democracy (2006). A lucid and cogent introduction to central accounts of democracy from classical Greece to the present, which also contains a wide-ranging discussion of what democracy should mean today.

Vieira, M. B. and Runciman, D. Representation (2007). A very clear account of the concept of representation, which considers its history, different analytical approaches to it, and related contemporary issues including representation beyond the state. Weale, A. Democracy (2007). A comprehensive text that identifies and assesses the main conceptions of democracy from participatory to elitist, and, in this context, examines key issues in democratic theory.

CHAPTER 9

THE PROBLEM OF POLITICAL COMMUNITY: TOLERATION, THE NATION AND COSMOPOLITANISM Introduction213 Toleration215 •• The foundational case for toleration215 •• Toleration versus difference217 •• The limits of toleration 219 The Nation •• What is a nation? •• The value of nations? •• Nationalism and the world

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Cosmopolitanism230 •• Globalization and the end of the nation state? 231 •• Transnational communities and identity 232 •• A cosmopolitan political community?233 Conclusion237

INTRODUCTION The concept of political community in modern and contemporary Western political thought concerns the nature of the community (i.e. the group) that is created by political institutions. On the one hand, this question flows from modern states and citizenship, which create a body of formally equal citizens who are linked by common conditions and institutions. On the other, it becomes more tangible by the growing importance of democracy (see Chapter 8) and its placement of political legitimacy in the people. Together, these raise the question: what sort of unity (i.e. community) does the democratic state require and what does that mean for how citizens are related to each other as a group? While previous chapters have concerned the vertical relationship between individuals (as citizens) with the state, the problem of political community concerns the horizontal political relationship between 213

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citizens: how to conceive of their community and what that means for how they relate to each other. The definition of community and political community are notoriously controversial in social and political theory. Much of this debate has surrounded the nature of communities in general and at the level of the state, whether political units require communities, and the normative value of different types of political community (e.g. liberal vs nationalist). Generally, political communities concern the identities, norms, beliefs, structures, modes of interaction and symbols of the political level of group life associated with the state. As such, they set out how and in what ways citizens are bonded to each other. Bhikhu Parekh (1995) argues they can include the central organizing principles of the polity, its structural tendencies, characteristic ways of thinking and living, the ideals that inspire its people, the values they profess and to which its leaders tend to appeal, the kind of character they admire and cherish, their propensities to act in specific ways, their deepest fears, ambitions, anxieties, collective memories, traumatic historical experiences, dominant myths and collective self-understandings. In this, the concept of political community identifies the sociocultural dimension of modern states. These are not just laws and institutions; they are values, practices and cultures. For example, every modern state has an official language, public holidays (many of which recognize majority religious or cultural events) and the recognition of some cultural heritage. However, how states include, describe and organize culture differs widely. Some have a recognized religion, some recognize multiple nations within, and some have a contested settler-colonial past. What is common is that every political community understands: itself (the political community), others (other specific political communities it differs from) and the global human community. The modern and contemporary debate over political community has been structured through a series of concepts. Perhaps the most foundational was the debates over toleration that emerged in the seventeenth-century Wars of Religion. This conflict on the Protestant-Catholic divide concerned the role, entitlement and responsibility of the state in religious difference and it spawned a corresponding debate in political thought. Toleration is often related to fundamental modern commitments to freedom (see Chapter 7). As the willingness to put up with actions or opinions we disagree with, toleration may either be a precondition for civic harmony that broadens individual freedom, or a permissiveness that destroys political cohesion? Even more importantly, how does toleration treat diversity within our communities? Is toleration repressive or oppressive? In the nineteenth century, these individualist debates over our unity with fellow citizens developed into discussions over the appropriate unit of political rule. In other words, over what population group and within what territorial boundaries should state power operate? For the last two hundred years the dominant answer to that question has been ‘the nation’. It is assumed that the nation is the only legitimate modern political community and that the nation state is the highest form of political organization. But what sort of unity do nations offer, and what is it based

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on? Also, what happens when this model comes under pressure from economic and cultural globalization, and the growth of transnational communities. These conditions cast doubt on the state and its model of political community (i.e. the nation state). As a result, many theorists have argued that nationalism should give way to cosmopolitanism as the dominant form of political community.

TOLERATION The debate on toleration is the first confrontation in modern Western political thought with the problem of sociocultural difference: what is the proper disposition of the state to religious difference, and what do co-citizens owe each other in the face of significant divides? In the liberal tradition, where the main debate occurred, toleration is about the proper realm of individual freedom. How far should we tolerate others and when, if ever, are we justified in constraining their actions? By the same token, what kind of behaviour, opinions and beliefs should society or the state be prepared to endure? Toleration is both an ethical ideal and a social principle. On the one hand, it represents the goal of personal autonomy, on the other, it establishes a set of rules about how citizens should interact with each another within their political communities. In neither case, however, does toleration simply mean allowing people to act in whatever way they please. It is a complex principle, whose meaning is often confused with related terms such as ‘permissiveness’ and ‘indifference’. However, like freedom, the value of tolerance is often taken for granted; it is regarded as little more than a ‘good thing’. What is the case for toleration, what advantages or benefits does it bring, either to society or to the individual? Further, toleration is rarely considered to be an absolute ideal: at some point a line must be drawn between actions and views that are acceptable and ones that are simply ‘intolerable’. What are the limits of toleration? Where should the line be drawn?

The foundational case for toleration Toleration is one of the core political values of modern Western culture. Indeed, it is commonly argued that social progress is tied up with increasing toleration and that intolerance is ‘backward’. For example, it is widely argued that abandoning restrictions on religious worship, ending confining women to subordinate social roles and attempting to counter racial discrimination makes society more ‘socially enlightened’. As toleration has spread from religious to moral and political life, it has enlarged the realm of individual liberty. The cherished civil liberties that underpin liberal democratic political systems – freedom of speech, association, religious worship and so on – are all, in effect, guarantees of toleration. Moreover, although it may be impossible to legislate prejudice out of existence, the law has increasingly been used to extend toleration rather than constrain it, as in the case of broad anti-discrimination legislation. In this way, a discourse of toleration has become central to modern and contemporary political thought and communities. What this does not demonstrate, however, is why toleration was so highly regarded initially.

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The case for toleration first emerged during the Reformation of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, when rising Protestant sects challenged the authority of the Pope and Catholic Church. Preaching the radical doctrine of ‘individual salvation’, Protestantism generated a tradition of religious dissent, and a deep question of how modern states should deal with religious controversy reflected in the work of writers such as John Milton (1608–74) and John Locke. In A Letter Concerning Toleration ([1689] 1963), Locke advanced several arguments in favour of toleration. He argued the proper function of the state is to protect life, liberty and property, it has no right to meddle in ‘the care of men’s souls’. However, Locke’s central argument was based on a belief in human rationality. ‘Truth’ will only emerge out of free competition among ideas and must therefore be left to ‘shift for herself ’. Religious truth can only be established by the individual for himself or herself; it cannot be taught and should not be imposed by government. Indeed, Locke pointed out that even if religious truths could be known, they should not be imposed on dissenters because religious belief is ultimately a matter of personal faith. Locke’s argument is an endorsement of individual privacy; there should be elements of individual life ring-fenced from state or collective intrusion. This idea is deeply engrained in most Western liberal democracies in the distinction between public and private life, though they will draw the exact line differently. On this conception, toleration should be extended to all matters ‘private’ on the grounds that, like religion, they fall within a realm of personal belief. Many would argue, therefore, that moral questions should be left to the individual to decide because no government can define ‘truth’, and even if it were it would have no right to impose it. In ‘public’ affairs, however, where the interests of society are at stake, there is a clearer case for limiting toleration. Locke, for example, was not prepared to extend the principle of toleration to Roman Catholics, who in his view were a threat to the state given their allegiance to a foreign pope, or atheists based on their moral inability to honour contracts. Perhaps the most famous defence of toleration in the liberal tradition is in J. S. Mill’s On Liberty ([1859] 1972). For Mill, toleration was fundamental to both the individual and society. Whereas Locke’s argument was for toleration in itself, Mill saw toleration as one facet of liberty that had important consequences for individuality. For Mill, individuals are autonomous agents, free to exercise sovereign control over their own lives and circumstances. Autonomy is an essential condition for any form of personal or moral development. Thus, intolerance, restricting the range of individual choice, inhibits the intellectual, moral and spiritual progress of the individual. Mill was, consequently, fearful of the threat posed by the spread of democracy and what he called the ‘despotism of custom’. While in a majoritarian community the greatest threat to individual freedom may not be formal restrictions, public opinion could actually cause social conformity. Mill feared that the spread of ‘conventional wisdom’ would promote dull uniformity and encourage individuals to subordinate their rational faculties to popular prejudices. As a result, he extolled the virtues of individuality and ‘experiments in living’. In Mill’s view, toleration is not only vital for the individual but also an essential condition for social progress. Toleration underpins every healthy society. Like many liberals, Mill had an essentially empiricist theory of knowledge: ‘truth’ will only emerge out of continued observation, experimentation, argument, discussion and debate. If society is

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to progress, good ideas must displace bad ones, truth must conquer falsehood. This is the virtue of cultural and political diversity: it ensures all theories will be ‘tested’ in free competition against rival ideas, a ‘marketplace of ideas’ or what Karl Popper called ‘The Open Society’. This process has no end because no final truth can be established. Even democratic elections are not reliable means of establishing truth because, as Mill argued, the majority may be wrong. The intellectual development and moral health of society demand the scrupulous maintenance of toleration. Mill even insisted that if the whole of society apart from a single individual held the same opinion, they would still have no right to impose their views on the individual. All of this demonstrates that the classical liberal argument for toleration is deeply individualistic. While it arises within a debate about group (i.e. religious) difference, it conceives and responds to diversity as something about individuals. We are different, on this view, because individuals have different beliefs. Insofar as these beliefs are private, they are protected. Toleration, as a result, is about other individuals, the majority and the state refusing to interfere in the ‘private’ realms of individuals. The political community, on this view, must tolerate (religious) diversity in the private.

Toleration versus difference In everyday language, tolerance, the quality of being tolerant, is a willingness to ‘let be’, with little reflection on the motives behind this attitude. Indeed, from this perspective, toleration suggests inaction, a refusal to interfere or willingness to suffer something. Toleration, however, refers to a particular form of inaction, based on moral reasoning and specific circumstances. It must be distinguished from permissiveness, blind indifference and willing indulgence. For example, a parent who simply ignores the unruly behaviour of his or her children, or a passer-by who chooses not to interfere with a crime, is not exhibiting ‘tolerance’.

THINKER JOHN LOCKE (1632–1704) English philosopher and politician. Locke studied medicine at Oxford before becoming secretary to Anthony Ashley Cooper, first Earl of Shaftsbury. His political views were developed against the background of the English Revolution. Locke was a consistent opponent of absolutism (see p. 139) and is often portrayed as the philosopher of the ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688, which established a constitutional monarchy in England. He is usually seen as a key antecedent of early liberalism. His Two Treatises of Civil Government ([1690] 1965) used social contract theory to emphasize the importance of natural rights, the right to ‘life, liberty and estate [property]’. As the purpose of government is to protect such rights, government should be limited and representative; however, the priority he accorded property rights prevented him from endorsing political equality or democracy in the modern sense. His A Letter Concerning Toleration ([1689] 1963) defends freedom of religious conscience claiming rulers are always uncertain about the meaning of true religion. Religion could only be constrained if it threatened order, which meant, Locke argued, not extending toleration to atheists or Roman Catholics.

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Toleration is a refusal to interfere with the behaviour or beliefs of others, when the behaviour and beliefs are disapproved of. Toleration, in other words, is not morally neutral. As such, it is a form of forbearance: it exists when there is a capacity to impose one’s views but a deliberate refusal to do so. Enduring what cannot be changed is not toleration. It would be absurd, for example, to describe a slave as tolerant of his servitude simply because he does not rebel. Although toleration means forbearance, it does not mean non-interference. Toleration allows for influence to be exerted over others, but only in the form of rational persuasion. There is undoubtedly a difference, for example, between ‘permitting’ a person to smoke and ‘tolerating’ their smoking. In the latter case, the fact that smoking is disapproved of, or disliked, may be registered, and an attempt made to persuade the person to stop smoking. However, toleration demands that forms of persuasion be restricted to rational argument and debate because once any form of cost or punishment is imposed, even in passive forms (e.g. mockery), the behaviour is constrained. It is difficult, for instance, to argue that smoking is tolerated if it leads to the loss of friendship or damaged career prospects, or if it can only take place under restrictions. In fact, these are better examples of intolerance. Intolerance refers, to a refusal to accept the actions, views or beliefs of others. Not only is there moral disapproval, there is also some kind of attempt to alter behaviour by imposing constraints. However, the term intolerance is deeply appraisive, including a negative moral valuation in contemporary liberal democratic discourse. Whereas ‘tolerance’ is usually thought to be laudable and even enlightened – a tolerant person is seen as patient, forgiving and inclusive – ‘intolerance’ suggests an unjustified objection, close to prejudice. Intolerance suggests an objection to that which should have been tolerated. Thus, laws that discriminate against people on grounds of race, colour, religion, gender or sexual preference, are described as intolerant. Since the late twentieth century, however, some political thinkers have eschewed the concept of toleration, usually on the grounds of its liberal connotations. In ‘Repressive Tolerance’ (Wolff, Marcuse, and Moore 1969) Herbert Marcuse argued that tolerance, when applied to institutionally and socially dominant ideas that limit the real freedoms of some people, are deeply intolerant. For example, tolerance towards a justification of freemarket ideas that denigrates the poor and naturalizes their oppression under capitalism is deeply intolerant and repressive of progressive social change because it allows for the continued dominance of these ideas. In contrast, some have endorsed the more radical idea of difference. Difference speaks to the irreducible plural nature of contemporary social identities. As a concept, it suggests going further than toleration in endorsing, rather than merely grudgingly accepting, various forms of diversity. Iris Marion Young and Charles Taylor have argued that assuming the neutrality and superiority of liberal values is deeply exclusionary to other perspectives. Liberals have traditionally sought to uncover a set of universal values that allow personal autonomy to coexist with political order. By doing so they have tended to ignore that liberalism is just one of many perspectives. This led to the emergence of what Taylor called ‘The Politics of Recognition’: the call from a variety of social identities (sexual, racial, cultural, etc.) to have their difference acknowledged and positively valued within contemporary liberal democratic cultures. These debates around recognition are questions of identity and so are discussed in Chapters 12 and 13. What is key now is that the politics of difference implies what John Gray (1996) termed a

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‘post-liberal’ position in which liberal values, institutions and regimes no longer enjoy a monopoly of legitimacy. This undermines any attempt to discourage beliefs by claiming they are intolerant or illiberal. In this way, concepts such as tolerance have been put in question claiming they suggest a hierarchy between liberal and non-liberal beliefs. It also illustrates how debates about diversity and recognition in the late twentieth and twentyfirst century develop these questions of political community (see Chapters 12–13).

The limits of toleration Although positively valued in Western liberal democratic culture, toleration is not absolute. In fact, critics of liberal toleration have often claimed it has two in-built assumptions: (1) that there is a limit to it, that which is intolerable; and (2) that there is a power differential between the group tolerating (i.e. the majority) and the group tolerated (i.e. the minority). Liberals would generally agree that toleration should be limited because it can become ‘excessive’. However, debates about the limits of toleration have played out rather differently depending on whether the question is about action or speech. In one sense, the simplest question of limiting toleration relates to actions that are damaging. Very few would advocate, for instance, that toleration should be extended to actions that, in Mill’s words, do ‘harm to others’. However, as discussed in Chapter 12, this has been complicated recently when the actions are practices or rituals common in certain minority groups but considered controversial by majorities. Female genital mutilation (FGM), arranged marriages, and Muslim veiling practices have been just a few of the most prominent examples in recent years in Western multicultural states. Bhikhu Parekh (2000) describes these as conflicts between the operative public values of the majority, and their institutionalization in the state, and minority practice, and argues they constitute one of the focal points of debates around cultural diversity and tolerance. The issue of tolerating speech, what people say, write or depict, raises more difficult questions. One line of argument, usually associated with the liberal tradition, suggests that what people think and the words they use should not be constrained. Words, after all, do not harm like actions. To interfere with freedom of conscience, or freedom of expression, violates personal autonomy. On the other hand, some argue that both the individual and society may be endangered by the failure to set limits to what people can say. For example, toleration itself may need to be protected from intolerant ideas. In addition, words themselves may be harmful, either in the sense that they can cause anxiety, alarm or offence, or in that they may foster aggressive or hateful behaviour. The issue of political toleration demonstrates these tensions well. It is also one of the most virulent twentieth-century examples of tolerance. Political toleration is usually regarded as an essential condition for both liberty and democracy. Political pluralism, the unrestricted expression of all political philosophies, ideologies and values, ensures individuals can develop their own views within an entirely free market of ideas, and that political parties compete on a level playing field. However, should toleration be extended to the intolerant? Should parties that reject political pluralism and that, if elected to power, would suppress open debate, be allowed to operate? The basis for banning such parties is surely that toleration is not granted automatically; it must be earned. In that sense, all moral values are reciprocal: only the tolerant deserve to be tolerated, only political parties that accept the rules of democracy can participate. John Rawls (1971) famously argued that for a doctrine to be reasonable, and so included within public debate, it had

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to accept cooperating with others and the reasonable existence of a plurality of other views. The danger of this was dramatically underlined by the example of Hitler and the German Nazis, who, despite the failed Munich Putsch in 1923, could operate legally and succeeded in being elected to power in 1933. The charade of democratic respectability was abandoned within weeks as the Nazis took the first steps towards the construction of a one-party Nazi dictatorship. Similar concerns have arisen in recent years with political figures on the Right refusing to commit to acknowledging defeat in an election and crying fraud with deeply unclear grounds, as in the case of former US President Donald J. Trump after the 2020 American Election. On the other hand, suppressing the expression of political views, even in defence of toleration, may simply contribute to the disease itself. Intolerance in the name of toleration is certainly ambiguous and may be impossible. In the first place, political intolerance of any kind can compromise a democratic culture of open dialogue. This famously occurred in the United States in the 1950s when Senator Joseph McCarthy’s House Un-American Activities Committee’s attempt to root out ‘card-carrying communists’ turned into an purge against democratic socialists, left liberals and progressives. Second, many argue that banning parties for offensive views does little to combat them; it only drives them underground, helping them to grow stronger. Intolerance cannot be combated by intolerance; the best way of tackling it is to expose it to criticism and defeat it in argument. At the heart of such an argument lies faith in the power of human reason: if the competition is fair, good ideas will push out bad ones. The problem is, however, as demonstrated by the rise of Hitler and the Nazis, that at times of economic crisis and political instability ‘bad’ ideas can possess a remarkable potency. The issue of censorship has been central in discussions of toleration’s limits. The traditional liberal position is that what a person reads or watches, and how a person conducts his or her personal life and sexual relationships, is a matter of individual choice. No ‘harm’ is done to anyone – as long as ‘consenting adults’ are involved – or to society. Others argue, however, that tolerance amounts to nothing more than the right to allow that which is ‘wrong’. Mere disapproval of immorality is no way of fighting evil. Such a view has been, for example, advanced in the United States since the 1980s by groups such as Moral Majority and by a growing number of neoconservative critics, who warned that a society that is not bound together by a common culture and shared beliefs faces the prospect of decay. This position, however, assumes that there is an authoritative moral system – in this case, usually fundamentalist Christianity – which can distinguish between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. In the absence of an objective definition of ‘evil’, society is in no position to define moral corruption. A further argument in favour of censorship is based on the belief that what people read, hear or think is likely to shape their social behaviour. In the case of pornography, for example, an unlikely alliance has been forged between feminist groups concerned about violence against women, and neoconservatives who support the ‘New Puritanism’. Both groups believe that the demeaning portrayal of women in newspapers, television and cinema has contributed to a rise in sexual violence. Such a link between the expression of views and social behaviour has long been accepted in the case of racism. The incitement of racial hatred is illegal in many liberal democracies on the grounds that it encourages, or legitimizes, racist attacks and creates a climate of genuine apprehension within minority

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communities. However, the prohibition of racist literature that may openly call for attacks on minority groups sets a high and explicit standard of ‘hate speech’. In recent years, these debates have broadened out in many liberal democracies to consider the issue of offence and wider psychological notions of harm. The 2005 Danish Cartoons controversy, where the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten published a series of cartoons depicting the Muslim prophet, Muhammed, was paradigmatic of how these debates have an ethno-cultural dimension. Beyond the fact that it is prohibited in Islam to depict Muhammed, several of these cartoons linked Islam to terrorism in a country with a small Muslim minority that has high reported experiences of everyday and institutional forms of discrimination. Another live area is ongoing debates around transphobia and the expression of ‘gender-critical feminist thought’. Often localized around university campuses and other public spaces, trans-rights activists have sought to de-platform or otherwise prevent the expression of views they argue are harmful to trans-people. What constitutes harmful speech and how that can be used to regulate public spaces that are meant to tolerate as many views as possible is thus a central topic of discussion in contemporary political theory. It re-raises the key, second-order question that Locke originally confronted: how should the state react to the fact that some people find the actions or speech of others deeply offensive or harmful? What level of toleration do we owe members of our political community? The idea of tolerance, thus, still motivates current discussions of religious diversity and secularism, as well as ‘post-secularism’ in political thought. What sort of forbearance we owe to those whose practices and views offend us, and what obligations we have to avoid offending others, are live issues in debates around ethnic-cultural diversity, racism, religion and multiculturalism. For example, In her Toleration as Recognition (2002), Anna E. Galeotti attempts to reframe contemporary debates in identity politics and recognition (see Chapter 12) around a re-reading of the concept of toleration. She argues that toleration is not so much about moral disagreement as inequality.

THE NATION While toleration raises the important question of what we owe others in the political community, the nation surrounds the issue of its unity and identity. For over two hundred years the nation has been regarded as the only legitimate unit of political rule. This belief has been reflected in the remarkable appeal of nationalism, one of the most widely assumed and yet difficult to define political ideologies. Nationalism is the doctrine that each nation is entitled to self-determination, that the boundaries of the nation and those of the state should coincide. Thus, the idea of a ‘nation’ has been used as a way of establishing a non-arbitrary basis for the boundaries of the state. This implies that the highest form of political organization is the nation state; in effect, each nation should be a sovereign entity. The idea of the nation also expands the idea of political community. Traditionally, liberal political thought has emphasized the formal aspects of citizenship (citizenship and rights) in defining the political community. On this understanding, that community is circumscribed to certain sorts of formal activities or issues: identity and community have usually been thought of as outside politics in the realm of civil society. Nationalism, in

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contrast, argues that political community entails an ethical relation of common identity, practice and symbol. It argues that political communities need a group of commonfeeling and common-thinking individuals. So, the model of the state and community it offers is close to Hegel’s idea of the ethical community (see Chapter 5). The nation is built on the wide inclusion of all citizens, it is a ‘universal’ form of political community that governs in a general interest, rather than the interest of some group. This is made real in nationalism by a robust identity. Nationalism has recreated the modern world, from the process of European nationbuilding in the nineteenth century, through the national liberation struggles of the post-1945 period, to the creation of a numerous new nations in the aftermath of state communism. Further, its shape inside states is equally dynamic. In the 1990s, liberal nationalism seemed to have triumphed in many Western liberal democracies as they increasingly embraced ‘civic’ and even multicultural forms of self-definition. However, in the last decade, even the most inclusive national identities have seen a return of ethnic, exclusivist and nativist elements that connect nationalist rhetoric to a rejection of immigration, globalization and international institutions. Unsurprisingly, the nation and nationalism continue to be the focus of significant theoretical and ideological debate, not least because of disagreements over how the nation should be understood. What are the defining features of the nation? Are nations cultural entities or political entities? Similarly, the benefits of the nation and national identity are often assumed rather than explicitly elaborated. How can the nation be defended? Finally, controversy has surrounded the impact of nationalism on world politics. Do national political communities bring international peace and stability, or are they a recipe for expansionism and war?

What is a nation? The concept of ‘nation’ is often used confusingly. For example, it is often used as a synonym for ‘country’ or ‘state’. This confusion is also found in the name United Nations, an organization that is one of states rather than nations. Part of this misunderstanding is due to the significant contestation over the term itself: what a nation is, is deeply contested. In one sense, a nation is a cultural entity, a body of people bound together by a shared cultural heritage. It is not, therefore, a political association, nor is it necessarily linked to a territorial area. Nations may lack statehood either because, like all African and many Asian nations in the early twentieth century, they are the subjects of an imperial power, or because they are incorporated into multinational states such as the UK, Canada or Belgium. However, in another sense, nations are inherently political. To call a group a nation in modern political thought and discourse is to raise a claim to sovereignty: an entitlement to self-determination. This tension between nations as a description of groups and as normative claims to rule is what makes defining a nation so difficult. The factors usually used to define a nation are a common language, religion, traditions, historical consciousness and so on. These are objective characteristics but they do not provide a blueprint for deciding when a nation exists, and when one does not. There are, in other words, many examples of enduring nations that contain, like Switzerland, several languages, or, like Indonesia, more than one religion, or, as in the case of the United States, a diverse range of historical traditions and ethnic backgrounds. Ultimately, nations can only be defined subjectively, that is by a people’s awareness of its nationality or their

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national consciousness. This consciousness encompasses a sense of belonging or loyalty to a community, usually referred to as national identity. Theorists such as Ernest Gellner (see p. 228) have, however, insisted that the defining feature of national consciousness is not merely loyalty but the aspiration to self-government. In effect, a nation defines itself by its quest for independent statehood; if it is contained within a larger state it seeks to separate and redraw state boundaries. An alternative perspective, however, sees the quest for statehood as merely one expression of nationalist sentiment, the defining feature of nationalism being its capacity to represent the interests of a national group. This view would accept, for example, that the desire of the Quebecois to preserve their language and culture in Canada is every bit as ‘nationalist’ as the separatist struggle waged by the Basques in Spain. Because asserting nationhood carries significant political demands, the definition of ‘nation’ is fiercely contested. Many of the most enduring political conflicts turn on whether a group is a nation. This is evident in the Sikh struggle for an independent homeland, ‘Khalistan’, in the Indian state of Punjab, the former campaigns in Quebec to break away from Canada, and demands by the Scottish National Party (SNP) for independence from the UK. Not infrequently, national identities overlap and are difficult to disentangle from one another. This is particularly clear in the UK, which could be regarded either as a single British nation or as four separate nations: English, Scots, Welsh and Northern Irish. Such complications occur because the balance between the political and cultural components of nationhood is significantly variable. The German historian Friedrich Meinecke ([1907] 1970) tried to resolve this issue by distinguishing between what he called cultural nations and political nations, but when cultural and political considerations are so closely interlinked this task is notoriously difficult. These tensions have led to competing emphases in nationalist theory. Some have argued that there are strong reasons for believing that all nations have been shaped by historical, cultural or ethnic factors. In The Ethnic Origins of Nations (1986), Anthony Smith stressed the extent to which modern nations emerged from the symbolism and mythology of premodern ethnic communities, which he calls ‘ethnies’. In this ‘ethno-symbolist’ view, nations are historically embedded; they are rooted in a common cultural heritage and language that may long predate the quest for national independence. Smith’s ethno-symbolism is often thought of as the contemporary form of the now-defunct ‘primordialist theory’, which had a similar emphasis on the longevity of nations but tended to emphasize bloodrelations more. On the ethno-symbolist view, modern nations emerged when established ethnicities were linked to the emerging doctrine of popular sovereignty and associated with a historic homeland. This explains why national identity is so often expressed in the traditions of past generations (e.g. as in many European nationalisms). From this perspective, nations are ‘organic’, fashioned by natural or historical forces rather than political ones. This may, in turn, mean that ‘cultural’ nations are stable and cohesive, bound together by a historical sense of national unity. Some forms of nationalism are very clearly cultural rather than political in character. For instance, despite the demands of Plaid Cymru for a separate Welsh state, nationalism in Wales consists largely of the desire to defend Welsh culture and language. Equally, the nationalism of the Breton peoples of Brittany is a cultural movement without any attempt to secede from France. Cultural nationalism is perhaps best thought of as a form of ethnocentrism, an attachment to a culture as a source of identity and explanatory frame

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of reference. Like nations, ethnic groups such as the Afro-American and Afro-Caribbean communities of the United States and UK share a distinct, and often highly developed, cultural identity. However, unlike nations, ethnic groups preserve their cultural identity without demanding political independence. However, ethnic diversity can have its own effects on nationalism. In multicultural societies (see p. 314), which lack ethno-cultural unity to ground national identity, the diverse social identities may replace the nation as the primary source of personal and political identity. However, the idea of multicultural nationalism, such as that of Tariq Modood, suggests that national identity can transforms as a commitment to diverse, inclusive political community. Such matters have also stimulated debate in relation to Indigenous peoples or ‘First Nations’ (see p. 225). The modernist theory of the nation is the main competitor to ethno-symbolism. Associated with figures such as Eric J. Hobsbawm (1917–2012), Ernest Gellner (1925–95) and Benedict Anderson (1936–2015), modernists argue that the nation and nationalism are uniquely modern political identities and forms tied to the development of modern political conditions. Indeed, ‘modernist’ approaches to nationalism have suggested that, rather than being historically embedded, nations emerged in response to socio-economic changes that undermine the sense of social belonging. Gellner (1983), for example, emphasized the degree to which nationalism is linked to the process of industrialization. He suggested that, while pre-modern or ‘agro-literate’ societies were structured by a network of feudal bonds and loyalties, emerging industrial societies promoted social mobility, self-striving and competition, and so required a new source of social solidarity. This was provided by nationalism, and its institutionalization in a public sphere, education system and national media. Similarly, Anderson ([1983] 1991), emphasizing the subjective, ‘imagined’ quality of nations, particularly highlighted the invention of print media as the key modern, technological precursor of national identity. These together created a form of political belonging tied to institutions and political values. There are many contexts that seem to demonstrate this more political form of national identity. The UK and the United States have often been classic examples. In the UK’s case, the British nation was founded on the union of four ‘cultural’ nations: English, Scots, Welsh and Northern Irish. The United States is, in a sense, a ‘land of immigrants’ and so contains peoples from all round the world. In such circumstances, a sense of US nationhood has developed more out of a common allegiance to the liberal democratic principles expressed by the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution than out of a recognition of cultural ties. Such nations are founded on a voluntary acceptance of a common set of principles as opposed to an already existing cultural identity, and so have been called civic rather than ethnic. It is sometimes argued that the style of nationalism in such societies is typically tolerant and democratic. The United States has, for example, sustained a high degree of social harmony and political unity against a background of profound religious, linguistic, cultural and racial diversity. On the other hand, ‘political’ nations can at times fail to generate the social solidarity and sense of historical unity that is found in ‘cultural’ nations. This can be seen in the UK, particularly since the introduction of devolution, in the strengthening of Scottish and Welsh nationalism and the rise of ‘Englishness’, but the decline of a sense of ‘Britishness’. Particular problems around nationalism have been encountered by developing-world states, which are ‘political’ in one of two senses. First, in many cases they achieved statehood only after a struggle against colonial rule, and so their national identity is deeply

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influenced by the unifying quest for ‘national liberation’. This tied their nationalisms to anti-colonialism and, in the decolonial period, has assumed a distinctively postcolonial character (see p. 336). Second, these nations have been shaped by territorial boundaries inherited from the colonial period. This is particularly evident in Africa, whose ‘nations’ often encompass a wide range of ethnic, religious and regional groups, bound together by little more than a common colonial past and state borders shaped by imperial rivalries.

The value of nations? The nation and nationalism have been the focus of ideological and theoretical debate that goes well beyond how nations should be understood. Of equal focus is the question of the value or justification of the nation. Much of liberal theory has traditionally been hostile to cultural identities, and so is there any defence for the nation? Such defences have been made along several lines. Perhaps the most common justification for the nation is that national identity provides the surest basis for political solidarity. This is because nations are, in essence, organic communities. In this view, humankind is naturally divided into a collection of nations,

BEYOND THE WEST INDIGENOUS PEOPLES AS FIRST NATIONS The term ‘First Nation’ was first used in the 1970s to refer to the Indigenous people of Canada, other than the Inuit and Métis peoples, a collection of over 630 groups. Subsequently, it has been used to refer to Indigenous peoples around the world (also called ‘aboriginal’, ‘native’ or ‘tribal’ peoples). It is estimated that there are more than 370 million Indigenous people (roughly 5 per cent of the world’s population) spread across ninety countries. In view of the diversity of Indigenous peoples, no official definition of ‘indigenous’ has been adopted by the UN, leading to a general reliance instead on self-identification at both an individual and community level. The idea that these groups are ‘first’ peoples or nations acknowledges that they are descendants of those who inhabited a country or geographical region in pre-colonial times. Their distinct language, art, music, social, economic and political practices are therefore historically embedded. Modern nations, by contrast, came into existence only from the late eighteenth century onwards, and were commonly based on traditions that were ‘invented’ by processes of nationalization (Hobsbawm 1983). To portray Indigenous peoples as ‘nations’ is to assert that they are political entities entitled to rights beyond those associated with ethnic or cultural minorities. These have included the right to self-government, possibly extending to the ability of Indigenous communities to restrict the mobility, property and voting rights of non-Indigenous people, thereby bringing collective rights into conflict with traditional individual rights. Ownership rights have also commonly been claimed over territory, including surrounding natural resources, to which Indigenous peoples have been tied in various ways. Nevertheless, such demands have typically in twentieth- and twenty-firstcentury indigenous politics not been based on full independence or secession, in part because these groups are often geographically dispersed and internally very different in contemporary states. Nonetheless, the assertion of Indigenous nationhood is a key part of the politics around the legacy of colonialism today.

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each of which possesses a distinctive character and a separate identity. This, nationalists argue, is why a ‘higher’ loyalty and deeper political significance attaches to the nation than to any other social group. Whereas, for instance, class, gender, religion and language may be important in particular societies, or may come into prominence in particular circumstances, the bonds of nationhood are found in all societies, they endure over time, and they operate at an instinctual, everyday, level. Strong societies are therefore founded on a clear national consciousness. As discussed above, ‘modernist’ approaches to nationalism have suggested that, rather than being historically embedded, nations emerged in response to socio-economic changes that required a new source of social belonging. This was provided by nationalism, especially through the device of the nation state. The great strength of the nation state is that it offers the prospect of both cultural cohesion and political unity. When a people who share a common cultural identity gain the right to self-government, nationality and citizenship coincide. In this light, attempts to promote national patriotism, through national anthems, national flags, commemorative days and oaths of allegiance, can be seen to have advantages for the individual and wider society. This view implies that immigrants should take on at least essential elements of national character, as the growth of multiculturalism (see p. 314) may threaten the social solidarity modern states require. The nation has also been defended as key to ensuring freedom. This was evident at the birth of nationalism, during the French Revolution, when the idea of national community was linked to popular sovereignty. This connection is usually seen as originating in JeanJacques Rousseau’s Considerations on the Government of Poland (1782). Using Rousseau’s idea of the ‘general will’, revolutionaries in France argued that government should be based not on the absolute power of a monarch, but on the indivisible collective will of the entire community. Sovereign power thus resided in the ‘French nation’. In this view, nationhood and statehood are intrinsically linked. The litmus test of national identity is the desire to attain political independence, usually expressed in the principle of national self-determination. Nationalism is therefore orientated around the nation state ideal, expressed by J. S. Mill ([1861] 2011) in the principle that ‘the boundaries of government should coincide in the main with those of nationality’. Such thinking, most clearly elaborated in the tradition of liberal nationalism, accords the nation a moral status broadly equivalent to that of the individual, in that both are endowed with basic rights. National self-determination is a collective expression of individual freedom, nationalism being an essentially liberating force that opposes foreign domination, whether by multinational empires or colonial powers. Moreover, self-determination has implications for the domestic organization of government power, establishing a clear link between nationalism and democracy. The final justification of the nation is that it constitutes an ethical community, an effective basis for moral conduct. This can be seen in at least three ways. First, a sense of moral concern, possibly extending to moral obligation, arises amongst people who share a common cultural identity and way of life. So, it is only within national communities, where people accept a social responsibility for one another, that welfare provision and redistribution are possible. Second, the nation gives morality an important collective dimension and helps liberate people from narrow self-interest. A sense of loyalty is an important component of national consciousness, making personal existence more

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meaningful and social existence more secure. This sense of duty can extend to a willingness to fight and possibly die to ‘save the nation’. Finally, ethical nationalism, the theory that the rights of, and obligations towards, members of one’s nation enjoy moral priority over those related to others, makes morality more robust and realistic. In part, this applies because, as communitarian theorists (see p. 57) argue, morality is only possible if it is grounded in the communities that have shaped our lives. People consistently morally prioritize those closest to them (most obviously family, close friends and members of their local community). As Walzer (1994) argued, a ‘thick’ sense of morality can only operate within a single culture. This not only implies that morality is fashioned by the distinctive history, culture and traditions of a society, but also explains why obligations cannot extend beyond the ethical (or national) framework.

TRADITION: Nationalism The modern Western idea of nationalism is often thought to have emerged in the wake of the French Revolution, as ‘crown subjects’ were encouraged to self-identify as ‘citizens of France’. Nationalism is the belief that the national community is the central principle of political organization. As such, it is based on two assumptions. First, humankind is naturally divided into distinct nations and, second, the nation is the only legitimate unit of political rule. Classical political nationalism set out to bring the borders of the state into line with the boundaries of the nation. Within so-called ‘nation states’, nationality and citizenship coincide. However, nationalism is a complex and diverse theoretical body. Not only are there distinctive political, cultural and ethnic forms of nationalism, but also the political implications of nationalism have been wide-ranging and contradictory. Liberal nationalism is a principled form of nationalism. Instead of upholding the interests of one nation over others, it proclaims that nations are equal in their rights to freedom and self-determination, and that they involve internal norms of basic freedom and equality. It attempts to reconcile the desire to support the interests of one community, with universalistic liberal norms. Liberal nationalism thus views nationalism as a mechanism for securing a peaceful domestic and world order. Conservative nationalism is concerned less with

universal self-determination, and more with the social cohesion and public order embodied in the sentiment of national patriotism. Above all, conservatives see the nation as an organic entity emerging out of a basic desire of humans to gravitate towards those who have the same views, habits, lifestyles and appearances as themselves. Anti-colonial nationalism overlaps with liberal nationalism except that it was typically associated with revolutionary Marxism-Leninism and sought to fuse national liberation with the goal of social, economic and political development. Nationalism can be viewed as the most historically significant political tradition. It has caused the birth of new states, the disintegration of empires and the redrawing of borders. Over the last two hundred years the political world has been reconfigured as the basis of the nation state ideal, and this has been underpinned by international law’s assumption that nations, like individuals, have inviolable rights. However, nationalism has always attracted deep hostility. Critics have alleged that all forms of nationalism are regressive, intolerant, chauvinistic and morally impoverished (in that ethical obligations are limited to our people). Nationalism has also been viewed as increasingly anachronistic, because the advance of globalization has fatally compromised the nation state. However, the return of ideals of national sovereignty in recent years has also questioned that idea.

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Key figures Johann Gottfried Herder (1744–1803)  A German poet, critic and philosopher, Herder is often portrayed as the father of cultural nationalism. A leading critic of the Enlightenment, Herder’s emphasis on the nation as an organic group characterized by a distinctive language, culture and spirit (Volksgeist) produced a nationalist theory that stresses the intrinsic value of national culture. Herder’s major work is Reflections on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind (1784– 91). Ernest Gellner (1925–95)  A British social philosopher and anthropologist, Gellner was the most prominent figure in the modernist camp in the study of nationalism. He explained the rise of nationalism in terms of the need of industrial societies, unlike agrarian ones, for

homogeneous languages and cultures in order to work efficiently. Gellner’s major writings include Nations and Nationalism (1983), Culture, Identity and Politics (1987) and Reason and Culture (1992). Benedict Anderson (born 1936)  A leading social scientist of nationalism, Anderson’s main work is Imagined Communities ([1983] 1991). He defined the nation as an ‘imagined community’, in the sense that it generates a deep, horizontal comradeship regardless of actual inequalities within the nation and despite the fact that it is not a face-to-face community. Anderson’s other works include The Specters of Comparison (1998) and Under Three Flags (2005). See also J.-J. Rousseau (p. 205), J. S. Mill (p. 168) and Gandhi (p. 340)

Nationalism and the world The problem of political community raises the question of the effect of nationalism on the world; in a world structured by nations, how will they interact? There have been deep disagreements on the nation’s implications for international stability. Two starkly contrasting visions have been presented, one in which nationalism is a guarantee of peace and order, and the other in which it is inherently destabilizing. This reflects both the highly contested nature of nationalism and the extent to which nationalism has been fused with other political doctrines, thereby creating ‘rival nationalisms’. The belief that a world of independent nation states creates peace and stability is most clearly associated with liberal nationalism. This reflects an underlying liberal faith in the principle of natural harmony, which applies not only to the economy and groups in civil society but also to the nations of the world. Although such thinking can be found in the writings of Giuseppe Mazzini and may be traced back to Immanuel Kant (see p. 230), it was perhaps most famously articulated by US President Woodrow Wilson (1856–1924) during the Paris Peace Conference of 1919. For Wilson, the First World War had been caused by an ‘old order’, dominated by autocratic and militaristic empires. Democratic nation states, on the other hand, would respect the national sovereignty of their neighbours and have no incentive to wage war or subjugate others. For a liberal, nationalism does not divide nations from one another, promoting distrust, rivalry and possibly war. Rather, it is a force that can promote both unity within each nation and brotherhood amongst all nations based on mutual respect for national rights and characteristics.

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That said, liberals have long accepted that national self-determination is a mixed blessing. While it preserves self-government and forbids foreign control, it also creates a world of sovereign nation states in which each nation has the freedom to pursue its own interests, at the expense of other nations. Liberal nationalists have certainly accepted that constitutionalism and democracy reduce the tendency towards militarism and war, but when sovereign nations operate within conditions of ‘international anarchy’, self-restraint alone may not be sufficient to ensure Kant’s ‘perpetual peace’. Liberals have generally proposed two means of preventing conflict. The first is national interdependence, aimed at promoting mutual understanding and cooperation. This was why liberals have traditionally supported a policy of free trade: economic interdependence means that the material costs of international conflict are so great that warfare becomes less likely. Second, national ambition should be checked by the construction of international organizations capable of bringing order. This explains Woodrow Wilson’s support for the first, if flawed, experiment in world government, the League of Nations, set up in 1919, and far wider support for its successor, the United Nations, founded in 1945. Critics of liberal nationalism have nevertheless alleged that it ignores the darker face of nationalism, the irrational bonds or tribalism that distinguish ‘us’ from a foreign and threatening ‘them’. Liberals see nationalism as a universal principle, but underestimate its emotional power. Through its capacity to generate restless ambition expressed in projects of military expansion, nationalism has been a major component in explaining, amongst other things, European imperialism in the nineteenth century and the outbreak of both the First and Second World Wars. The recurrent, and, many would argue, defining, theme of this form of expansionist nationalism is the idea of national chauvinism. Derived from the name of Nicholas Chauvin, a (possibly apocryphal) French soldier noted for his fanatical devotion to Napoleon and the cause of France, chauvinism is underpinned by the belief that nations have characteristics and qualities and so have very different destinies. Some nations are suited to rule; others are suited to be ruled. Typically, this form of nationalism is articulated through doctrines of ethnic or racial superiority, thereby fusing nationalism and racialism. The chauvinist’s own people are unique, in some way a ‘chosen people’, while other peoples are viewed either as inferior or threatening. An extreme example is the case of German Nazism, whose Aryanism portrayed the German people (the Aryan race) as a ‘master race’ destined for world domination. Fascism has been associated, more widely, with a form of populist ultranationalism, which fuels myths about past national greatness and the prospect of national reawakening. Charles Maurras (1868–1952), a leading figure in the French far-right political movement Action Française, called this form of nationalism ‘integral nationalism’: an intense form of nationalistic enthusiasm in which individual identity is absorbed within the national community. Some, however, argue that such tendencies are not restricted to ‘illiberal’ or ‘expansionist’ forms of nationalism, as all forms of nationalism are based on partisanship, a preference for one’s own nation, underpinned by claims it its unique qualities. In this view, nationalism is inherently chauvinistic and potentially aggressive. Such concerns have resurged recently as more aggressive forms of nationalism have resurged in Western liberal democracies such as the United Kingdom and United States, connected to increased hostility to regional and global institutions such as the European Union and United Nations.

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THINKER IMMANUEL KANT (1724–1804) German philosopher and political thinker. Kant spent his entire life in Königsberg (in East Prussia), becoming professor of logic and metaphysics at the University of Königsberg in 1770. Apart from his philosophical work, Kant’s life was distinguished by its uneventfulness. Kant’s ‘critical’ philosophy holds that knowledge is not merely an aggregate of sense impressions; it depends on the conceptual apparatus of human understanding. His political thought was shaped by the central importance of morality. He believed that the ‘law of reason’ dictates certain categorical imperatives, the most important of which is the obligation to treat others as ‘ends’, and never only as ‘means’. Freedom, for Kant, is more than the absence of external constraints on the individual; it is a moral and rational freedom, the capacity to make moral choices. Kant’s ethical individualism has had considerable impact on liberal political thought. It also helped to inspire the idealistic tradition in international political thought, in suggesting that reason and morality combine to dictate that there should be no war and that the future of humankind should be based on ‘universal and lasting peace’. Kant’s most important works include Critique of Pure Reason (1781), Critique of Practical Reason (1788) and Critique of Judgement (1790).

COSMOPOLITANISM Modern Western political thought has been focused on the state. The question of political community is a question of the type of community of citizens appropriate to state politics and citizenship. The debates on tolerance and nationalism are key to the developing themes of those discussions (see also Chapters 12–13). However, the problem of political community, as discussed in the last section, raises questions about its limits: at what point does human politics exceed the state, nation and political community? In earlier phases of modern Western political thought, nationalism and political community were contrasted with ‘internationalism’. The latter can mean several different things. Socialist internationalism is about creating an internationalist socialist movement seeking to globalize the overcoming of capitalism, and other forms of class conflict. Liberal internationalism is the theory of politics based on cooperation between nations or states. The latter is rooted in universalist assumptions about human nature that put it at odds with political nationalism, which emphasizes how political identity is shaped by nationality. However, liberal internationalism is compatible with nationalism, in the sense that it is a political call for cooperation among pre-existing nations, whereas socialist internationalism was about creating a transnational political movement that exceeds national affiliations. The idea of cosmopolitanism includes both senses, inter- and trans-nationalism. It concerns sustained relationships, patterns of exchange, affiliations and social formations that cross-national borders. As such, cosmopolitanism is the idea that there is a level of political community that exceeds the domestic/international divide in politics and may include the claim that it has been fatally undermined, casting doubt on the continuing importance of sovereignty and the state.

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However, cosmopolitanism concerns several different types of issues in social and political thought. First, empirically and sociologically, it highlights ideas of globalization, which is commonly viewed either as the chief cause of cosmopolitanism or as its primary manifestation. What is globalization, and what have been its main implications? Second, an alternative issue central to cosmopolitanism has emerged since the mid-twentieth century from the upsurge of international migration. This has led to speculation about the growth of ‘transnational communities’. Are territorial nation states giving way to deterritorialized transnational communities? Finally, the most radical implication of cosmopolitanism is the potential to reconfigure identities, loyalties and obligations around the world, based on the vision of the global population as a single moral community. In this sense, cosmopolitanism is a largely moral question that has become more complicated due to (1) globalization and (2) transnational communities. Could or should cosmopolitanism (see p. 235) become the dominant political identity and community?

Globalization and the end of the nation state? Contemporary debates about political community have been saturated in larger discussions of globalization. The idea of the eclipse of the nation state has fuelled a rejection of the national political community in many theoretical conversations. In its best form, this opens new questions of global citizenship and political identity. At its worst, it leads to simplistic rejections of the nation that leave the issue of political community unasked. This section provides context to the later discussion of cosmopolitanism by giving some framework to globalization. Globalization is a complex, elusive and controversial term. It has been used to refer to a process, a policy, a marketing strategy, a predicament or even an ideology. Some have tried to bring greater clarity about globalization by distinguishing between globalization as a process or set of processes (highlighting the dynamics of change) and ‘globality’ as a condition (highlighting the end-state of globalization, a totally interconnected whole). Others have used the term ‘globalism’ to refer to the ideology of globalization, the theories, values and assumptions that have guided or driven the process (Ralston Saul 2009). The problem with globalization is that it is not so much an ‘it’ as a ‘them’: it is not a single process but a complex of processes, sometimes overlapping but also sometimes contradictory. It is therefore difficult to reduce globalization to a single theme. Nevertheless, the various developments that are associated with globalization can be traced back to the underlying phenomenon of interconnectedness. Globalization, regardless of its forms or impact, forges connections between previously unconnected people, communities, institutions and societies. Held et al. (1999) thus defined globalization as ‘the widening, intensifying, speeding up and growing impact of worldwide interconnectedness’. The interconnectedness that globalization has spawned is multidimensional and operates through distinctive economic and cultural processes, giving globalization several dimensions. Although some commentators have been primarily concerned with what is called ‘cultural globalization’ (see p. 322), most of the debate about cosmopolitanism is prompted by economic globalization, and its impact on political life. Economic globalization is the process whereby all national economies have, to a greater or lesser extent, been absorbed into an interlocking global economy. However, economic globalization should be distinguished from ‘internationalization’. The latter results in

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intensive interdependence between national economies, brought about, for instance, by increased international trade. This so-called ‘shallow’ integration forces national economies to work more closely but does not mean that they lose their national character. The former marks a qualitative shift towards ‘deep’ integration, transcending territorial borders through constructing a consolidated global marketplace for production, distribution and consumption. In that sense, globalization is a comprehensive system of economic transnationalism. It is difficult to argue that the state and sovereignty have been unaffected by globalization. This particularly applies to the territorial jurisdiction of the state. The principle of external sovereignty was based on the idea that states had supreme control over what took place within their borders, implying that they also controlled what crossed their borders. Economic globalization, however, has led to the rise of ‘supraterritoriality’, reflected in the declining importance of territorial locations, geographical distance and state borders. This is particularly clear in relation to financial markets that have become increasingly globalized, in that capital flows around the world. For example, no state can be insulated from the impact of financial crises abroad. It is also evident in the changing balance between the power of territorial states and deterritorialized transnational corporations, which can switch investment and production to other countries if state policy is not conducive to the pursuit of corporate interests. Economic sovereignty, then, may no longer be meaningful in what Ohmae (1990) called a ‘borderless world’, national government having given way to ‘post-sovereign governance’ (Scholte 2005). In the most extreme version of this argument advanced by hyperglobalists, the state is so ‘hollowed out’ as to have become, in effect, redundant. However, the rhetoric of a ‘borderless’ global economy can be over-exaggerated. For example, there is evidence that, while globalization may have changed the state strategies for ensuring economic success, it has by no means rendered the state redundant as an economic actor. Indeed, rather than globalization having been foisted on unwilling states by forces beyond their control, economic globalization has largely been created by states. This was evident in the role that the United States played in the 1970s and 1980s in bringing about a shift towards a more open and ‘liberalized’ world trading system, and in the enthusiasm of China, the ‘rising hegemon’, for globalized economic arrangements. Moreover, although states when acting separately may have a diminished capacity to control transnational economic activity, they retain the facility to do so through macroframeworks of economic regulation: the World Bank, the World Trade Organization and the International Monetary Fund.

Transnational communities and identity A transnational community is a community whose cultural identity, political allegiances and psychological orientations cut across national borders. In that sense, transnational communities challenge the nation state ideal of political community, which links politicalcultural identity to a specific territory. Transnational communities have therefore been thought of as ‘deterritorialized nations’ or ‘global tribes’. There is, of course, nothing new about scattered communities that have maintained their cultural distinctiveness and resisted assimilation. The Jewish diaspora (literally meaning ‘dispersion’), which can be traced back to the eighth century BCE, is the classic example of a transnational community. Ironically, the remarkable resilience of Judaism and the Hebrew language in the absence

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of a Jewish homeland can be significantly explained by a history of persecution through anti-Semitism. Other examples include the Armenians, many of whom have been forced into exile by successive invasions, dating back to the Byzantine Empire. However, many argue that the emergence of transnational communities is one of the chief features of the modern, globalized world. An increase in international migration does not in itself create new, transnational social spaces. For transnational communities to be established, immigrant groups must sustain relations that link their societies of origin and of immigration. This is made easier in the modern world by a variety of developments. Whereas, say, Irish immigrants to the United States in the nineteenth century had little prospect of returning home and only a postal service to keep them in touch with their friends and families, modern communities of Filipinos in the Gulf states, Indonesians in Australia and Bangladeshis in the UK benefit from cheap transport and improved communications. Air travel enables people to return ‘home’ on a regular basis, creating fluid communities that are linked both to their society of origin and their society of settlement. The near-ubiquitous mobile phone (and increasingly smartphone) has also become a basic resource for new immigrants, helping to explain, amongst other things, its increased penetration in the developing world, including the rural parts of Asia and Africa. Transnational communities, moreover, are bound together by a network of family ties and economic flows. Migration, for example, may maintain rather than weaken extended kinship links, as early immigrants provide a base and working opportunities for other members of their community who subsequently emigrate. The idea of a transition from territorial nation states to deterritorialized transnational communities should not be overstated. The impact of modern migration patterns, and of globalization in its various forms, is more complex than is implied by the simple notion of transnationalism. In the first place, the homogeneous nation that has supposedly been compromised was always, to some extent, a myth created by nationalism itself. In other words, there is nothing new about cultural mixing, which long predates the emergence of the modern hyper-mobile planet. Second, transnational communities are characterized as much by difference as they are by commonality. The most obvious divisions within diaspora communities are those of gender and social class, but other divisions may emerge along ethnicity, religion, age and generation. Further, transnational communities can merge and alter. For example, amongst second- and third-generation members, individuals take on larger ethnic or racial hybrid identities (e.g. Asian-American) rather than holding two more specific identities (e.g. Vietnamese and American). Third, it is by no means clear that transnational loyalties are as stable as those built around the nation. Quite simply, social ties that are not territorially rooted may not be viable in the long term. Finally, it is misleading to suggest that transnationalism has somehow displaced nationalism when, each has influenced the other, creating a complex web of hybrid identities. Hybridity has thus become one of the major features of modern society, in relation to multiculturalism (see Chapter 12).

A cosmopolitan political community? Structural globalization and transnational migration offer two key contexts for the contemporary prominence of cosmopolitan ideas. This is because global interconnectedness and the incredible movement of peoples does not merely challenge how we understand

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the  world, but our moral relationships and political identities. Cosmopolitanism (see p. 235) is the main tradition in Western political thought examining how moral and political relationships can and should take a global dimension. While it is associated with Kant’s Perpetual Peace (1795) and other nineteenth-century discussions of internationalism, globalization renewed interest in forms of cosmopolitanism, often expressed through ideas such as global justice, or world ethics. As the world has ‘shrunk’, in the sense of people having a greater global awareness, it has become more difficult to ignore the global dimension of our ethical relationships and confine moral obligations to a single political society. For cosmopolitan theorists, the world constitutes a single moral community. People thus have obligations towards all other people, regardless of nationality, religion, ethnicity and so forth. Cosmopolitan theory is usually informed by a critique of nationalism, and so the two are often pitted against each other as direct competitors. This critique has two dimensions. First, flowing from the constructivist approach to nationalism that emphasizes its subjective dimensions, nations are seen as ‘imagined’ or ‘invented’, not as organic or ‘natural’ communities. National identity is not rooted in social psychology, but is an ideological construct, and usually one that serves the interests of powerful groups. Second, nationalism inculcates narrow moral thinking. In giving moral preference to members of one’s ‘own’ nation, it not only treats non-nationals as not fully human but also encourages us to deny our own humanity. Human beings, therefore, can and should evolve beyond nationalism. Cosmopolitan theory is often specified through a distinction between political and moral cosmopolitanism. Moral cosmopolitanism is focused on examining the ethical duties we have to other individuals as persons (e.g. are we obliged to help others in extreme circumstances), while political cosmopolitanism (sometimes called ‘legal’ or ‘institutional’ cosmopolitanism) is associated with both justifying and determining the norms and principles for supranational political institutions. Additionally, some authors also discuss the idea of cultural cosmopolitanism often in the form of ‘cosmopolitan multiculturalism’ (see p. 314), which focuses on how cultural mixing and hybridization can transform communities and identities in ways that move toward global political community. Nevertheless, cosmopolitan theory is generally focused on moral questions. Moral theorizing cannot but extend to a consideration of the political arrangements most conducive to promoting it of course. However, most cosmopolitans work from the normative methods associated with analytic, liberal theory and there, theorizing is focused primarily on moral issues. At the core of moral cosmopolitanism is the idea of a common humanity, within which ethical sensibilities are expanded to embrace all people in the world. Thomas Pogge (2008) broke this basic ethical orientation into three elements. First, cosmopolitanism is committed to individualism, in that individual human beings, or persons, are the basic and ultimate unit of moral concern. Second, it embraces egalitarianism, in that it holds that moral concern attaches to every living human equally. This is often called a commitment to the basic moral equality of persons. And third, it acknowledges universalism, in that moral concern applies to everybody everywhere, taking all people to be citizens of the world. Other forms of cosmopolitanism have also been advanced. Onora O’Neill (1996) employed one of Kant’s ‘categorical imperatives’, that we should act on principles that we

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would be willing to apply to all people in all circumstances, to argue that people have a commitment not to injure others and that this commitment has a universal scope. Peter Singer (2004), on the other hand, used utilitarianism (see p. 22) to argue that the ethics of globalization demands that we act so as to reduce the overall level of global suffering, thinking in terms of ‘one world’ rather than a collection of discrete countries or peoples.

TRADITION: Cosmopolitanism Cosmopolitanism can be traced back to the Cynic movement in Ancient Greece, and the assertion by Diogenes of Sinope (400–323 BCE) that he was a ‘citizen of the world’. Interest in cosmopolitan themes revived during the Enlightenment. For example, Kant’s Perpetual Peace (1795), perhaps the most famous nineteenth-century cosmopolitan text, outlined the proposal for a ‘league of nations’. Contemporary cosmopolitanism is largely shaped by the desire to explore the moral and political implications of increased interdependence. Cosmopolitanism literally means a belief in a cosmopolis or world state/political community. Although contemporary cosmopolitanism has a primarily moral orientation, being particularly concerned with the idea of humanity as a single moral community, it also deals with political and institutional themes, not least the need to reform existing global governance (see p. 117) in accord with cosmopolitan moral principles. Cosmopolitan thinking has drawn on a variety of traditions in modern political theory, including Kantianism, utilitarianism and human rights theory. For Kant (see p. 230), the obligation to treat people as ‘ends in themselves’ and not merely as means for the achievement of the ends of others was a ‘categorical imperative’, dictated by practical reason. On this basis, he argued that we have a universal duty of hospitality towards foreigners; as citizens of the world, we should treat every human being with consideration and respect. The cosmopolitan implications of utilitarianism derive from the belief that, in making moral judgements based on maximizing happiness, ‘everybody counts as one, nobody as more than one’. The

principle of utility does not acknowledge the moral significance of borders, a stance that has underpinned calls for the eradication of world poverty (Singer 1993). Most contemporary cosmopolitan theorizing is nevertheless based on the doctrine of human rights. Human rights have cosmopolitan implications because they emphasize that rights are universal, belonging to all human beings, regardless of culture, citizenship, gender or other differences. Such thinking underpins the idea of global social justice (see p. 286) and provided a justification for humanitarian intervention based on a ‘responsibility to protect’ citizens of other states from large-scale suffering or loss of life. Cosmopolitanism has many critics. For instance, communitarians and others have taken issue with the moral universalism that underpins cosmopolitanism, arguing that moral systems are only workable when they operate within a cultural context. From this perspective, moral duties significantly differ based on our relations with a group. Others have argued that moral cosmopolitanism amounts to little more than ‘wishful thinking’ in a world that lacks an institutional framework capable of upholding its principles. This problem is compounded by the fact that it is difficult to see how such a framework, even if it could be established, could either enjoy a meaningful degree of democratic legitimacy. Key figures Martha Nussbaum (born 1947)  A US philosopher and public intellectual, Nussbaum has written prolifically on subjects such as education, gender, sexuality, religious tolerance

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and human rights. She has championed a form of cosmopolitanism that is rooted in Stoic thinking and stresses that being a world citizen does not mean giving up local identifications, as both are a source of enrichment. Nussbaum’s bestknown works include The Fragility of Goodness (1986) and The Therapy of Desire (1994). Thomas Pogge (born 1953)  A German philosopher, Pogge’s areas of interest include Kant, moral and political philosophy, especially global justice and, more recently, global health. Pogge has developed a rights-based approach to global justice that allows people to make moral claims on social institutions that impact substantially on their lives, accepting that these claims can only be addressed through

global institutional reform. Pogge’s key work in this area is World Poverty and Human Rights (2008). Daniele Archibugi (born 1958)  An Italian economic and political theorist, Archibugi has developed a form of cosmopolitanism that stresses the importance of cosmopolitan democracy. Criticizing what he sees as unaccountable, undemocratic and failed global institutions, he has outlined the constitutional architecture of a cosmopolitan alternative. Archibugi’s chief works include (with D. Held) Cosmopolitan Democracy (1995) and The Global Commonwealth of Citizens (2008). See also Immanuel Kant (p. 230)

Moral cosmopolitanism has its critics. Some radical and postcolonial critics of cosmopolitanism reject ideas such as global justice or world ethics, as they are framed primarily with liberal political ideas, claiming it is impossible to establish such universal values. This critique has been used to argue that human rights are essentially a Western ideal and therefore have no place in non-Western cultures; when they have, they have often been used to justify cultural or actual imperialism. Communitarian critics of cosmopolitanism argue that moral values only make sense when they are grounded in a society. This implies that human beings are morally constituted to favour the needs and interests of those with whom they share a cultural and national identity. In this light, the notion that cosmopolitanism could ever supplant nationalism (or other partial, associational obligations) would appear to be baseless. Finally, since the 1990s liberal nationalists have consistently argued that nationalism is in fact a prerequisite for liberal political ends (i.e. social justice and political equality). This is perhaps the most direct conflict with cosmopolitanism as it is similarly situated with liberal political norms and similar methodological approaches to political thinking. Unlike many cosmopolitan theorists seemed to assume only a couple of decades ago, nationalist political thought is not at all on the wane. Indeed, there are reasons to believe that the advent of a global age may be leading to a revival, rather than decline, of nationalism. In addition to the resurgence of ethnic nationalism in the aftermath of the fall of communism, nationalism has gained renewed impetus since the late twentieth century as a means of resisting immigration and globalization, and as a part of modernization projects in rising states such as China and Russia. The recent explosion of exclusivist, nationalist political movements in Western liberal democracies (which were often thought to have the weakest nationalism) since 2016 has renewed these views. In this way, current cosmopolitan theory is characterized by continued criticism of nationalism and a great wealth of work examining questions of ‘global justice’. Drawing

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on works such as John Rawls’s The Law of Peoples (1999), these debates ask about the conditions of justice that operate at the global level. For example, what principles should undergird international action? What responsibilities do we have to the global poor? Is inequality between peoples morally problematic?

CONCLUSION The problem of political community in modern and contemporary Western political thought concerns the nature of the community (i.e. the group of individuals) that is created by political institutions. In what way is that community constituted and how does that mean its members are related? This debate has moved through a variety of positions and phases. However, the account above has not suggested a progressive replacement of positions. Rather, liberal toleration, nationalism and cosmopolitanism all exist as live theoretical positions in modern and contemporary debates on political community. Toleration was perhaps the first way of framing this issue. In what areas of cultural life can citizens demand uniformity? What sort of forbearance do we owe to those whose practices and views offend us, and what obligations do we have to avoid offending others? The social principle of toleration, as we saw, was a largely individualistic, liberal answer to this question that delimited the political community to non-private affairs. Subsequently, the debate over the nation as the dominant model of political community absorbed the tradition. But what is a nation and what is it based on? Can the nation be reconciled with liberalism, diversity and the international world? Relatedly, can political community exceed the nation and take on a global, cosmopolitan form? Ideas of globalization and transnationalism seem to suggest such a possibility. All of this demonstrates that the problem of political community continues to pose key questions to theory today.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS JOHN LOCKE’S LETTER CONCERNING TOLERATION ([1689] 1963) The Letter Concerning Toleration ([1689] 1963) is a letter written by John Locke during his time in exile in the Dutch Republic. Addressed to an ‘Honoured Sir’ (his friend Philipp van Limborch who published it without Locke’s permission), it was prompted by debates in Europe at the time on religious toleration that resulted from conflict between Protestants and Catholics and widespread state action on religious conformity. As one of Locke’s most accessible writings that applies much of his political theory, it is perhaps his most widely read text. Locke’s main strategy in Letter is to firmly distinguish the spheres of religion and politics as having separate forms of authority, goods and relations to individuals to make any overlap between them inappropriate. Governments have nothing to do with ‘the care of men’s souls’ and religious groups are fundamentally voluntary in nature and so have no authority over non-members or members who choose to leave. Further, since the state’s action is defined by the use of force, which is inappropriate to change minds and beliefs, politics is an inappropriate realm to pursue religious ends. For these reasons, Letter is usually understood to offer one of the most influential versions of the liberal public-private divide: a conception of political life that firmly carves off voluntary individual life from politics to protect each from the other.

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Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘The commonwealth seems to me to be a society of men constituted only for the procuring, preserving, and advancing their own civil interests. Civil interests I call life, liberty, health, and indolency of body; and the possession of outward things, such as money, lands, houses, furniture, and the like.’ 2. ‘A church, then, I take to be a voluntary society of men, joining themselves together of their own accord in order to the public worshiping of God in such manner as they judge acceptable to Him, and effectual to the salvation of their souls.’ 3. ‘no private person has any right in any manner to prejudice another person in his civil enjoyments because he is of another church or religion. All the rights and franchises that belong to him as a man or as a denizen are inviolably to be preserved to him. These are not the business of religion.’ 4. ‘Nobody, therefore, in fine, neither single persons nor churches, nay, nor even commonwealths, have any just title to invade the civil rights and worldly goods of each other upon pretense of religion … No peace and security, no, not so much as common friendship, can ever be established or preserved amongst men so long as this opinion prevails that dominion is founded in grace and that religion is to be propagated by force of arms.’

Reading questions 1. 2. 3. 4.

How does Locke distinguish civil government from religious association? Is Locke right that toleration should involve a limited freedom of speech? What are the limits of toleration as Locke describes? Does toleration require us to never discuss differences such as religion?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What type of concept is tolerance? yy How do liberal theories of tolerance

divide political and non-political life? yy Is tolerance repressive? Does it violate a wider valuation of difference? yy Are nations subjective or objective entities? yy How convincing is the distinction between cultural and political nations?

yy What is the effect of national political

community on the international world?

yy How do globalization and transnational

communities challenge ideas of political community? yy Does cosmopolitanism offer a convincing criticism of nationalism? Is it a plausible alternative?

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FURTHER READING Cohen, A. J. Toleration (2014). A comprehensive introduction to the issue of toleration that investigates what should be tolerated and why, as well as the proper limits of toleration, using clear examples. Galeotti, A. E. Toleration as Recognition (2004). An examination of the problems that toleration encounters, which argues that, by treating toleration as recognition, account can be taken of the unequal status of different social groups.

Miller, D. National Responsibility and Global Justices (2012). An analysis of the moral claims that have been made on behalf of the nation, which also advances a noncosmopolitan theory of global justice that gives nationhood a central place. Őzkirimli, U. Theories of Nationalism: A Critical Introduction (2010). A comprehensive and insightful introduction to the key theories of nationalism, which examines the major criticisms that have been levelled at each.

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THE TWENTIETH AND TWENTY-FIRST CENTURIES: PROBLEMS OF EXCLUSION

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CHAPTER 10

THE PROBLEM OF PROPERTY: PLANNING AND THE MARKET Introduction243

INTRODUCTION

The problem of property concerns the social institution and mode of distribution that organize ownership. This is a question not only of what we The Market 253 own but also how we own and what sort of relations we establish individually and •• The idea of the market 254 collectively around ownership. This has •• The ideal of the market 256 been one of the most heated debates •• Critiques of the market 258 in the tradition of Western political Planning262 thought in modernity. In one sense, this chapter should come earlier, as questions •• The planning process 262 of property arise early in the modern •• The value of planning 264 tradition, often serving as metaphors for •• Perils of planning 265 civil society. However, these questions Conclusion267 have not disappeared and have also been the primary mover of the political thought of the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries as well. This fact is often not apparent because there is substantial agreement within traditions on the broad form of property and the broad economic system they endorse. Where there is controversy (lasting and deep) is between traditions. Liberalism, and to a certain extent conservatism, have long been divided from critical traditions such as Marxism, anarchism and socialism in terms of their Property244 •• Private property 245 •• Common property 250

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basic understanding of economics, their view of property and their prescribed economic system. These basic ideological divisions conditioned the politics of the last two centuries where ideological debate has revolved around a battle between capitalism and socialism, a clash between two rival economic philosophies. This struggle was regarded as fundamental to the political spectrum itself, right-wing ideas were sympathetic to capitalism, left-wing ones to socialism. In effect, this tendency reduced politics to a debate over two issues: (1) the way we should organize ownership of property and (2) the desirability of one economic system over another. The first question asks how ownership should be organized. Should property be owned by private individuals and be used to satisfy personal interests? Or should it be owned collectively, by the community or the state, and be harnessed to the common good? At stake is a fundamental division in viewpoint. Should we approach politics through the lens of the individual or the collective? Questions about property are closely related to conflicting models of economic organization, the second question. Two rival economic systems dominated much of Western twentieth-century political thinking: market capitalism and central planning. At times, politics has been simplified to a choice between the market and the plan. The idea of the market has arguably been the dominant framing throughout modern political thought. It is aligned to the liberal constitutional model of the state and the individualistic culture of modern Western political societies. What is it that has made market-based systems of economic organization so pervasive? But why, nevertheless, has there been a continual argument for government intervention in economic life to supplement or regulate the market? Although forms of planning have been adopted in many countries, the principle was applied most rigorously in orthodox communist states. What are the arguments for the planning process? On what basis has it been criticized?

PROPERTY One of the most significant barriers to the political theory of property stems from our everyday use of the term to refer to inanimate objects or ‘things’. In political thought, property is a social institution, defined by custom, convention and law. To describe something as ‘property’ is to acknowledge that a relationship of ownership exists between the object in question and the agent (person or group) to whom it belongs. In that sense, there is a clear distinction between property and simply making use of an object. For example, to pick up a pebble from a beach, to borrow a pen or drive away someone else’s car, does not establish ownership. This is because ownership is something asserted by an agent and accepted (or contested) by others. It is a social relationship with meaning, practices and history. The concept of property is thus an established and enforceable claim to an object or possession; it is a ‘right’, not a ‘thing’. The ownership of an object is reflected in the existence of rights and powers over it and the acceptance of duties and

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liabilities in relation to it. From this perspective, property may confer the ability to use an object, but it may also involve the responsibility to conserve it. The range of objects that can be property has varied considerably throughout history. Some societies, for instance certain Indigenous peoples of North America, may have little conception of property by Western standards. In such societies, inanimate objects and land belong to nature; human beings do not own property, they are custodians responsible for its welfare. The modern Western notion of property (which admittedly dominates global conceptions) dates from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and stems from the liberal political thought and economics and the growth of commercialized economies. To emancipate individuals from the inflexible social hierarchies of feudalism, which contained deep inequalities around ownership, property was conceived of as something all individuals could own, and in fact key to individual well-being. Individual liberty was primarily actualized through the institution of property and the activity of owning. However, this new liberty came with consequences. As material objects came to be regarded as economic resources – as ‘commodities’ capable of being bought or sold – the question of ownership became absolutely central to political thought. The natural world was turned into ‘property’ to enable it to be exploited for human benefit. Similarly, the individual model of ownership was not uncontested. Different forms of property have developed, depending on who or what was entitled to make a claim of ownership: private property, common property and state property. Each form of property has radically different implications for organizing economic and social life, and each has been justified by different moral and economic principles. In this way, how to organize ownership and economic production have constituted ongoing controversies in the Western tradition.

Private property The idea of private property is deeply naturalized in Western political and intellectual culture. In everyday language, it is not uncommon for all property to be thought of as ‘private’. Nevertheless, private property is a distinctive form of property and nowhere is it completely exclusive. That is, even where an emphasis on private property is strongest, there are forms of common and state property. Nonetheless, it is the dominant conception in Western political thought. This is for at least three reasons. First, in early modern discussions, the private conception of property quickly took hold to resist the engrained social hierarchies of feudal societies. Second, mainly articulated by thinkers that came to be associated with the liberal tradition (e.g. John Locke and Samuel Pufendorf), the private conception of property became deeply embedded in the liberal constitutional model of the state that became the increasingly dominant model during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Third, the main critics of private property in the Western tradition have come from the socialist and anarchist traditions, and the fate of this model has often been tied to their status. Private property is a social system of ownership allocation that organizes the ownership of things by allocating them to individuals. The latter can use and manage them as they please, to the exclusion of others. Similarly, this individual exerts control over the object to the exclusion of control by society or the state at large. As a result, private property is defined by C. B. Macpherson (1973) as the right of an individual or institution to ‘exclude others’ from the use or benefit of something. The ‘right to exclude’ does not necessarily

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THINKER ROBERT NOZICK (1938–2002) US political philosopher. Nozick’s major work, Anarchy, State and Utopia (1974) is widely seen as one of the most important examples of the re-rise of classical liberal political thought in the late twentieth century. It had a profound influence on neoliberal theories. Nozick’s work is often interpreted as a response to John Rawls (see p. 283), and a part of a critical backlash against the post-1945 growth in state power. He developed a form of libertarianism (see p. 260) that draws on the ideas of Locke (see p. 217) and was influenced by nineteenthcentury individualists such as Spooner (1808–87) and Tucker (1854–1939). At the core of his view of justice is a theory of entitlement that takes certain rights to be inviolable, and rejects the notion that social justice requires wealth redistribution according to a particular pattern. Nozick argued that property rights should be strictly upheld, if wealth has been justly acquired in the first place and has been justly transferred from one person to another. In short, ‘whatever arises from a just situation by just steps is itself just’ (Nozick 1974). On this basis, he rejected all forms of welfare and redistribution as theft. Nozick nevertheless supported a ‘minimal state’, which he believed would inevitably develop from a hypothetical state of nature. Some of the conclusions of Anarchy, State and Utopia were moderated in The Examined Life (1989).

deny access totally. Rights of access or ‘easements’ can often exist (e.g. if people need to cross land because it is the only way to access a key resource) but in general owners have a power to exclude others from use. The notion of property as ‘private’ developed in the early modern period and provided a legal framework within which commercial activity could take place. Private property thus became the cornerstone of the growing capitalist economic order. Liberal (see p. 37, 280) and later conservative (see p. 142) theorists have been the most committed defenders of private property, but its justification has taken multiple forms over the several centuries of discussions. Most influentially, there are four key arguments for private property. One of the earliest arguments for private property is the self-ownership argument. It originated in the seventeenth century in natural rights theories such as John Locke’s (see p. 217, 237). A similar position has been adopted by mid-twentieth-century theorists such as Robert Nozick (see p. 246), who have returned to classical liberalism. The basis of this argument is a belief in ‘self-ownership’, that each individual has a right to own his or her person. If, as Locke argued, each person has exclusive rights over his or her self, it follows they have an exclusive right to the product of their own labour – what they have crafted, produced or created. Property rights are based on unowned inanimate objects that have been ‘mixed’ with human labour to become the exclusive property of the labourer. It is important to emphasize that Locke’s theory is significantly concerned with justifying the creation of property rights in the first instance: the problem of how private property was created originally before anyone owned anything. Our natural self-ownership solves this by deriving ownership of things from our ownership of our labour. As Locke ([1690] 1965) notes, Though the earth, and all inferior creatures, be common to all men, yet every man has a property in his own person … Whatsoever then he removes out of the state that

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nature hath provided, and left it in, he hath mixed his labour with, and joined to it something that is his own, and thereby makes it his property. This argument justifies not only exclusive property rights but also unlimited ones; individuals have an absolute right to use or dispose of property in whatever way they wish. This is evident in Nozick’s theory of distribution (see Chapter 11); providing property has been acquired or transferred ‘justly’, there is no justification for infringing property rights, whether in the cause of social justice or the interests of society. Such a position, for example, sets very clear limits to the capacity of government to regulate economic life or tax its citizens. The second major justification of private property is the economic efficiency argument. Private property is an incentive to labour. Found in Aristotle (see p. 101) and developed by utilitarian (see p. 22) and economic theorists, this defence is based less on moral principles than instrumental claims. In short, it is only the possibility of acquiring and consuming wealth, in the form of private property that encourages people to work hard and develop the skills they were born with. Classical liberal economists such as Friedrich Hayek argue that through the mechanism of market competition private property ensures that economic resources are attracted to their most efficient use, ensuring a productive and growing economy. Such an argument is based on the belief that human beings are self-seeking and that work is essentially instrumental. In other words, work is at best a means to an end. The driving force behind productive activity is simply the desire for material consumption. Third, there is the moral benefits argument. Here, private property promotes important political values, notably individual liberty. Property ownership gives citizens independence, enabling them to formulate and pursue individual life plans. By contrast, the propertyless can easily be controlled, either by the wealthy or by government. Thus, even political theorists who feared the emergence of economic inequality, such as JeanJacques Rousseau (see p. 205), the anarchist Pierre-Joseph Proudhon (see p. 34) and modern social democrats (see p. 194), have been unwilling to completely abolish private property. This argument has, however, been put forcefully by free-market economists, such as Friedrich Hayek (see p. 261). In The Road to Serfdom ([1944] 1976) Hayek portrayed property ownership as the most fundamental of civil liberties and a key way to limit government power over individuals. He argued that personal freedom can reign only within a capitalist economic system, which limits state power. In his view, government intervention in economic life necessarily escalates to the point where all aspects of social existence are brought under state control. In effect, any encroachment on private property contains the seeds of totalitarianism. In addition to its economic and political advantages, private property promotes important social values. Property owners have a ‘stake’ in society, an incentive to maintain order, be law-abiding and behave respectfully. Conservatives and liberals have, as a result, praised the notion of a ‘property-owning democracy’ offered by John Rawls in A Theory of Justice (1971). Such thinking underpinned Ackerman and Alstott’s (1999) proposal that all young Americans should be given a financial stake in society in the form of a capital sum of $80,000 (the estimated cost of a four-year education at a top US university). This attempt to establish a ‘stakeholder society’ rejects the idea that property is an individual right based on merit or just transfer. Indeed, it seeks

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to counter the unfairness that results from rights-based property ownership, which allows for entrenched inequalities in the distribution of wealth resulting from the inheritance of property or its ‘just’ transfer. The stakeholder justification for private property is, by contrast, that asset ownership engenders freedom and responsibility, widening opportunities and encouraging people to think and act with longer-term considerations. A final justification for private property, the personal fulfilment argument, sees property not as an economic resource or consumable wealth, but a source of personal fulfilment. In this sense, the enjoyment that property ownership brings may be psychological. This can take two forms. At one level, this can be seen in the capacity of property to provide security in an insecure world, giving people a sense of stability. Beyond this, property may bring a form of ‘inner’ satisfaction, even serving as an exteriorization of an individual’s personality. People are attached to their personal possessions in a deep emotional sense: they ‘realize’ themselves through, even ‘see’ themselves in, what they own – their cars, houses, books and the like. This dimension of property ownership explains why, aside from the physical loss of possessions, the burglary often leaves its victims with feelings of personal violation. There have been substantial criticisms of private property in the history of Western political thought, mainly advanced by socialists and anarchists, although others have recognized the need to limit property rights. One of the earliest and most influential critiques is Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s The Discourse on Inequality (1754), which argued that the institution of property is the source of most social ills (want and violence). It is only with property that evils such as social rank and competition enter humanity. As a result, the creation of property as an institution constituted a deeply violent act, one that without precedent compromised common and natural forms of ownership. In one of the most famous passages, Rousseau ([1755] 2000) claims The first man, who after enclosing a piece of ground, took it into his head to say, this is mine, and found people simple enough to believe him, was the real founder of civil society. How many crimes, how many wars, how many murders, how many misfortunes and horrors, would that man have saved the human species, who pulling up the stakes or filling up the ditches should have cried to his fellows: Beware of listening to this impostor; you are lost, if you forget that the fruits of the earth belong equally to us all, and the earth itself to nobody! Rather than the just outcome of labour, Rousseau sees the original act of claiming property as deeply violent. This idea was also expressed notably in Proudhon’s ([1840] 1970) famous dictum, ‘Property is theft’. What Proudhon meant was not so much that individuals have no right to property but simply that the accumulation of wealth in private hands ignores the collective creation of wealth and allows the rich to exploit the poor. The most influential critique of original private property is undoubtedly found within the Marxist tradition. In Capital (1968) Marx referred to this as primitive accumulation, and argued that it was deeply violent. ‘The so-called primitive accumulation, therefore, is nothing else than the historical process of divorcing the producer from the means of production’ (Marx and Engels 1968). It is the act that divides humanity into two (or more) classes and creates inequality and conflict.

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In modern Western political thought this led to a broad trend of arguing that private property is not a condition of liberty and equality, but its most fundamental threat. One version of this argument warns that unfettered property rights leads to a grossly unequal distribution of wealth, allowing property to become a means of controlling, even enslaving, others. For example, Marxists argue that private property allows for a fundamental power differential around wealth between those who produce value through labour and those who control wealth as owners. Adopting a labour theory of value that was based on the writings of Locke, Marx (see p. 263) argued that production and accumulation of wealth, or capital, involves class exploitation; the bourgeoisie extracts ‘surplus value’ from the labour of the proletariat and controls what happens to it without any power from those who produce it. In The Communist Manifesto ([1848] 1976), Marx and Engels thus summed up communism in a single phrase: ‘Abolition of private property’. Further concerns about private property have focused on its tendency to distort human nature by breeding acquisitiveness and greed. This is a stance that has been adopted not only by socialists but also traditional conservatives, who have emphasized that, as custodians, not owners, of property, we have a duty to preserve it for the benefit of future generations. Similar thinking is evident in environmental political theory (see p. 180) in the idea of ‘ecological stewardship’, sometimes linked to the notion of ‘Buddhist economics’ (see p. 253).

TRADITION: Marxism Marxism as a theoretical system developed out of the writings of Karl Marx. However, ‘Marxism’ as a tradition emerged only after Marx’s death. It was the product of later Marxists condensing his ideas into a systematic world view. However, a variety of Marxist traditions can be identified, including ‘classical’ Marxism (the Marxism of Marx), ‘orthodox’ Marxism or ‘dialectical materialism’ (the mechanistic form of Marxism that served as the basis for twentieth-century communism), and ‘Western’, ‘modern’ or ‘neo-’Marxism (which tend to view Marxism as a humanist philosophy). Neo-Marxism, mixed with Hegelian philosophy and Freudian psychology, motivated the Frankfurt School of Critical Theory (see p. 78). The cornerstone of Marxist philosophy is what Engels called the ‘materialist conception of history’. This highlights the importance of economic life and the conditions under which people produce their means of subsistence. This has been glossed, simplistically, as the idea

that the economic ‘base’, consisting essentially of the ‘mode of production’, or economic system, conditions the ideological and political ‘superstructure’. While there is more nuance on this in Marx, the idea is that social, historical and cultural development is significantly shaped by material and class factors. The basis of the Marxist tradition is Marx’s theory of history, which suggests that history is driven forward through a dialectical process in which internal contradictions within each mode of production are reflected in class antagonism. Capitalism is only the most technologically advanced of class societies, and is itself destined to be overthrown in a proletarian revolution, which will lead to the establishment of a classless, communist society. This would bring what Marx called the ‘prehistory of mankind’ to an end. In political thought since the late nineteenth century Marxism has constituted the principal alternative to liberalism (see p. 37, 280). It is distinctive in its critical, historical and structural

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approach that explains the economic, social and political institutions and relations of modern and past societies in a holistic way that exposes new forms of oppression and liberation. Politically, it has attacked oppression, and had a particularly strong appeal to disadvantaged groups and peoples. However, Marxism’s status in political thought has declined slightly in the late twentieth century. To some extent, this occurred as other critical traditions in political thought, such as post-structuralism and postcolonialism, claimed to transcend Marxism (even while drawing on its insights). These theories have often claimed that Marxism is too rigid, deterministic or fixated on class, rather than other social divisions (e.g. gender, race or colonialism). Nonetheless, it offers one of the key inspirations for critical approaches to contemporary liberal democracy and continues in current discussions of ‘postMarxist’ critical theory. Key figures Friedrich Engels (1820–95)  A German industrialist and lifelong collaborator of Marx, Engels elaborated Marx’s theories for the growing socialist movement. By emphasizing the role of the dialectic as a force operating in social and political life, he helped to establish dialectical materialism as a distinct brand of Marxism. Engels’s major works include Anti-

Dühring (1877–8), The Origins of the Family, Private Property and the State (1884) and Dialectics of Nature (1925). Vladimir Illich Lenin (1870–1924)  A Russian revolutionary and leader of Russia/ USSR, 1917–24, Lenin’s primary theoretical concern was with organization and revolution, emphasizing the central importance of a tightly organized ‘vanguard’ party to lead the proletarian class. He analysed colonialism as an economic phenomenon and was committed to the ‘insurrectionary road’ to socialism. Lenin’s best-known works include What Is to Be Done? ([1902] 1968), Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism ([1916] 1970) and The State and Revolution ([1917] 1973). Antonio Gramsci (1891–1937)  An Italian Marxist and social theorist, Gramsci tried to redress the emphasis within orthodox Marxism on economic and material factors. Gramsci highlighted the degree to which ideology is embedded at every level in society, a hegemony, and called for the establishment of a rival ‘proletarian hegemony’ based on socialist principles. Gramsci’s major work is Prison Notebooks ([1929–35] 1971). See also Karl Marx (p. 263)

Common property Despite the common misconception of property as private property, common property has a history that long predates modern socialist thought. Plato (see p. 49) recommended that, among the philosopher-kings who should be entrusted to rule, property should be owned in common, and Thomas More’s Utopia ([1516] 2012) portrays a society without private property. As such, the common conception of property is the main rival tradition in the West. Whereas private property is based on the right to exclude others from use, common property can be defined, in Macpherson’s (1973) words, as ‘the right not to exclude others’. In other words, a right of access to property is shared by the members of a collective body and no member is entitled to detach a portion from the common and exclude others, thereby establishing ‘private’ domain. This does not necessarily mean that no one is excluded from use of common property. The right of common ownership may

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be restricted to the members of a cooperative, a commune or a locality. For example, access to common land may be restricted to people designated as ‘commoners’, ‘noncommoners’ being excluded, just as the free use of ‘public’ facilities such as libraries, museums and schools may not be extended to ‘non-citizens’. In other cases, common ownership may be universal in the sense that no human being is, or can be, excluded from use, as has sometimes been advocated in the case of land. The case in favour of collective property has usually been advanced by socialists, communists and collectivist anarchists, and has usually focused on two issues. First, central to this is a very different theory of labour than Locke’s. Locke believed that the right to private property could be traced to the labour of an independent and specifiable individual. Supporters of common property, on the other hand, regard labour as a social activity, depending on group cooperation rather than independent effort. The wealth produced should be owned in common and should be used to promote the collective good. This is revealing. A key part of the conception of common property is about control. For example, Marx was under no illusion that surplus value, the fact that some of the value produced by a labourer would not go to satisfy their direct needs, would disappear in a socialist society. However, it would be held in common, used for the collective good and so all who produced it would have a say in its use. Second, common property has also been justified on grounds of social cohesion and solidarity. When property is owned in common, anti-social instincts such as selfishness and competition are diminished, while social harmony and collective identity are strengthened. Plato, for instance, believed common ownership to be essential because it would ensure that the class of rulers would act as a united, selfless whole. Socialists have typically seen common property as ensuring that all citizens are full members of society; it harnesses the collective energies of the community, rather than the selfish drives of the individual. Common property has also attracted severe criticism. Opponents allege that in robbing the individual of a ‘private’ domain of possessions, common ownership creates a depersonalized and insecure social environment. Some socialists have implicitly acknowledged this problem in drawing a distinction between productive property, the ‘means of production’, which should be collectively owned, and personal property, the ‘means of consumption’, which remains private. Others argue that common property is inherently inefficient in that it fails to provide a material incentive to work and realize one’s talents. A final problem is that collective property includes no mechanism for restricting access to scarce resources, except cooperation. Garrett Hardin (1968) explained this by reference to what he called the ‘tragedy of the commons’. Before the enclosure of land, all commoners had an unrestricted right of access, being able to graze as many animals as they wished. The problem was that in many cases land was overgrazed and became unproductive, a tragedy which affected all commoners. Systems of private property ownership address this problem by allowing the market to ration scarce resources through the price mechanism. Where systems of common ownership have been introduced, however, access to scarce resources has required some form of decision-making body to decide how and who can use that resource. One of the most dominant forms this has taken in political theory is through the imposition of some form of political authority; thus, often in practice common ownership becomes state ownership.

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The notions of common property and state property are often confused. Terms such as ‘public ownership’ or ‘social ownership’ appear to refer to property owned collectively by citizens, but in practice usually describe property controlled by the state. ‘Nationalization’ similarly implies ownership by the nation but through a system of state control. Nevertheless, state property constitutes a form of property that is distinct from both private and common property, although it exhibits characteristics of each. State property is like common property insofar as, unlike private corporations, the state acts in the name of the people and the public interest. Further, in a democratic system, elected officials control state property in a way that establishes a relationship of ownership with the citizenry. A distinction is sometimes made between the ownership and control of state property: ownership, nominally at least, is in the hands of ‘the people’, while control rests with the government of the day. However, state property is also akin to private property. Ordinary citizens, for example, have no more right of access to state property, such as police cars, than they do to any other private vehicle. Moreover, state institutions such as schools, public libraries and government offices must guard their property like private corporations. However, the extent of state property ownership varies considerably from society to society. All states own some range of property to enable them to carry out their basic legislative, executive and judicial functions, but in some countries state property may encompass an extensive range of economic resources and even entire industries. In the case of state collectivization, as found in regimes such as the Soviet Union, all economic resources – the means of production, distribution and exchange – were designated as ‘socialist state property’. Arguments for state property have often drawn on those that favour common ownership. If state property is regarded as ‘public’, it reflects the fact that collective social energy was expended in its production, and, unlike private property, it promotes cooperation rather than conflict. However, state property may also be said to enjoy advantages over common property. In particular, the state can act as a mechanism through which access to, and the use of, scarce resources is controlled, thereby avoiding the ‘tragedy of the commons’. In the case of state property, however, accessing economic resources is limited not for private gain but long-term community interests. As a result, unlike common property, state property ensures property is organized along rational lines. This is usually operationalized through a planning system. State property has nevertheless been sternly criticized. Advocates of common ownership point out that state property is neither ‘public’ nor ‘social’. When resources are controlled by state officials they engender the same alienation as occurs in the case of private property. There is little evidence, for example, that workers in nationalized industries feel ‘closer’ to the service they provide, or more in control of work, than those in private industry. In addition, state property has often been linked to centralization, bureaucracy and inefficiency. Whereas private property leaves the organization of economic life to the vagaries of the market, and common ownership relies on the sociable and cooperative instincts of ordinary people, state property places its faith in a centralized system of economic planning. However, state property requires massive numbers of state officials and, from some perspectives, they tend to become detached from the needs of the economy and citizens. Moreover, the state can develop separate interests, as when state property is used to benefit state officials rather than the public. Collectivist regimes have sometimes, therefore, been portrayed as state capitalism.

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BEYOND THE WEST BUDDHIST ECONOMICS The idea of Buddhist economics was popularized by E. F. Schumacher in his pioneering work, Small Is Beautiful (1974). In this, he set out to expose the philosophical underpinnings of the Western economic system and to examine what the economy would look like if it were based on Buddhist principles. According to Schumacher, Western economists suffer from a kind of ‘metaphysical blindness’, in which their own beliefs are treated as ‘absolute and invariable truths’. One of these ‘truths’ is that consumption is the sole purpose of economic activity, labour having no value in itself. The aim of the economic system is thus to maximize consumption by achieving ever higher levels of production. The Buddhist approach to economics is founded, by contrast, on the idea of ‘right livelihood’, which forms part of the so-called Eightfold Path, the path to enlightenment. For labour to constitute ‘right livelihood’, it must conform to several requirements. First, and most basically, in the Buddhist tradition work is not a ‘disutility’ (a sacrifice we make that is only compensated for by the wages we receive); rather, it is an opportunity to develop our faculties. Work should therefore be stimulating, not meaningless. Second, by facilitating social interaction, work should help people overcome egocentredness. This suggests that work should be non-exploitative, although there is no agreement in Buddhism about how, in practice, this should be achieved. Third, while it is acknowledged that one of the purposes of work is to produce goods and services, these should be sufficient only to provide a decent existence, and not to foster greed. This reflects the emphasis in Buddhism on ‘simple living’. Finally, for Schumacher and others, ‘right livelihood’ implies ecological awareness, and especially the need for production to be balanced with an appreciation of the long-term interests of the environment, other species and future generations.

THE MARKET Within the problem of property, and the dominance of the private model, there arises as issue: if the original accumulation of property is just (and that was contested above), how should we organize the exchange of property? This is a question of the economic system in general that asks how we should organize, manage and regulate economic activity? It is important to recall the context of these debates. Modern Western debates about the economy occurred within wider discussion of the state model, the question of individual–state relations, and the general set of normative priorities around natural rights, stability, limited government and the basic, formal equality of individuals. These issues made economics central to modern political thought as it was often believed to be the archetypal realm free of the state. It was the paradigmatic ‘non-political’ activity. In fact, so important was this image of economics to the emancipation of non-aristocratic classes, that modern thinkers employed economic metaphors of contract and exchange to understand the state’s and citizens’ mutual obligations. However, despite the centrality of the idea of civil society, there was deep contestation over economics. The heart of the economic question has been a choice between two fundamentally different economic systems – capitalism and socialism – and therefore between two rival mechanisms for

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allocating resources within the economy: the market or the plan. In this section we address the idea of the market as well as the major arguments for and against it. Planning is addressed in the following section.

The idea of the market A market, in its everyday sense, is a place where goods are bought or sold, such as a fish market or a meat market. In economic theory, however, the term ‘market’ refers not to a geographical location but the commercial activity occurring there. In that sense, a market is a system of commercial exchange in which buyers wishing to acquire goods or services interact with sellers. Although transactions can take the form of barter, a system of goodfor-good exchange, commercial activity in modern economies is organized around the use of money as the means of exchange. For modern political thinkers, this had significant consequences. Locke argued that it is only with the invention of money that inequality becomes an issue, as people can amass more than they can use. For Marx, in capitalist economies money becomes the main mechanism of social interaction between humans; it is ‘the bond which ties me to human life and society to me, which links me to nature and to man, is money not the bond of all bonds? Can it not bind and loose all bonds? Is it therefore not the universal means of separation?’ (Marx and Engels [1844] 1978) The idea of a modern market depends on money as a neutral mechanism of exchange. The earliest attempts to analyse the workings of the market was undertaken by the Scottish economist, Adam Smith (see p. 261), in The Wealth of Nations ([1776] 1930). Though significantly elaborated by subsequent thinkers, in many ways Smith’s work still constitutes the foundational account of the market in social and political theory. Smith attacked constraints on economic activity, such as the survival of feudal guilds and mercantilist restrictions on trade, arguing that as far as possible the economy should function as a self-regulating market. He notably described market competition as an ‘invisible hand’, helping to organize economic life without the need for external control. At the root of his account lies a conception of human nature. For Smith, humans are defined not by morality or hostility, but an activity that has slowly developed our economic behaviour. There is, as he says, a ‘certain propensity in human nature which has in view no such extensive utility; the propensity to truck, barter, and exchange one thing for another’. The activity of exchange, for Smith, is a root social behaviour, one that gives rise to the basic division of labour. It is the necessary consequence of our abilities to reason and speak, which allow us to interact and cooperate. However, such cooperation is not entirely benevolent, but self-interested: ‘But man has almost constant occasion for the help of his brethren, and it is in vain for him to expect it from their benevolence only. It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest.’ Despite this, Smith did not see human beings as blindly self-interested, and indeed in The Theory of Moral Sentiments ([1759] 1976) he developed a complex theory of motivation that included a series of other sentiments beyond interest. Nevertheless, he argued that, by pursuing our own ends, we unintentionally achieve broader social goals. For example, Smith ([1759] 1976) argued that wealth is created through a process of self-interested market competition: ‘It is the great multiplication of the productions of all the different arts, in consequence of the division of labour, which occasions, in a well-governed society,

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that universal opulence which extends itself to the lowest ranks of the people.’ In this sense, he was a firm believer in the idea of natural order (see Chapter 6). This notion of unregulated social order, arising out of the pursuit of private interests, was also expressed in Bernard Mandeville’s The Fable of the Bees ([1714] 1924), which emphasizes that the success of the hive is based on the bees giving in to their ‘vices’, that is, their passionate and egoistical natures. Later economists developed this idea into the model of ‘perfect competition’. This assumes that the economy has an infinite number of producers and consumers, each possessed of perfect knowledge about every part of the economy. In such circumstances, the economy will be regulated by the price mechanism, responding to ‘market forces’ of demand and supply. ‘Demand’ is the willingness and ability to buy a good or service at a particular price; ‘supply’ refers to the quantity of a good or service available for purchase at a particular price. Prices thus reflect the interaction between demand and supply. When demand exceeds supply, the market price rises, encouraging producers to step up output. Similarly, new and cheaper methods of producing goods will increase supply and allow prices to fall, encouraging more people to buy. Although decision-making in such an economy is highly decentralized, lying in the hands of an incalculable number of producers and consumers, it is not random. An unseen force is at work ensuring stability – Adam Smith’s ‘invisible hand’. Ultimately, market competition tends towards equilibrium because demand and supply come into line with one another. The price of shoes will, for instance, settle at the level where the number of people willing and able to buy shoes equals the number of shoes available for sale, and will only change when the conditions of demand or supply alter. For liberal political economists such as Smith, a market economy is nothing more than a vast network of commercial relationships, in which consumers and producers indicate their wishes through prices. The implication of this is that government does not need to regulate or plan economic activity; economic organization can be left to the market. Indeed, if government interferes, it risks upsetting the delicate balance. In short, the economy works best when left alone by government. In its extreme form, this leads to the doctrine of laissez-faire, literally meaning ‘allow to do’, suggesting the economy should be entirely free from government influence. However, few political thinkers have argued that the market can in all respects replace government. Most free-market economists follow Adam Smith in acknowledging that the government has a vital, if limited, role. The liberal theory of the market includes a role for the state. They accept that only a sovereign state can provide a stable context for the economy to operate, by deterring external aggression, maintaining public order and enforcing contracts. In this respect, they have a minimal or ‘nightwatchman’ view of the state. Later classical liberals, such as Milton Friedman (p. 38), have additionally acknowledged that government has a legitimate economic function, though one largely confined to the maintenance of the market mechanism. For example, government must police the economy to prevent competition being restricted by unfair practices such as price agreements and the emergence of ‘trusts’ or monopolies. Moreover, government is responsible for ensuring stable prices. A market economy relies above all on ‘sound money’, in other words, a stable means of exchange. By controlling the supply of money, governments are therefore able to keep inflation at bay.

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THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL CAPITALISM The term ‘global capitalism’ suggests that capitalism has been reconstructed, particularly since the 1980s, into a single, interlocking world economy. This has occurred through the development of transborder and transnational economic structures, of which three have been particularly important: (1) an enormous expansion in the scale of the international trading system; (2) transnational corporations (TNCs) have come to dominate more economic sectors and now account for most world production; and (3) a global financial system has emerged that allows capital to flow round the world, literally, at ‘the speed of thought’. However, two starkly different images of global capitalism have been advanced. From a liberal perspective, a globalized economy is a consequence of the market tendency to break down barriers to production, distribution and exchange that arise from the existence of sovereign nation states. In this view, global capitalism promotes prosperity and opportunity. Although it makes the rich richer, it also makes the poor less poor. This occurs, for example, because international trade allows countries to specialize in the production of goods and services in which they have a ‘comparative advantage’, with other benefits accruing from the economies of scale that specialization makes possible. Similarly, transnational production is a force for good, as TNCs spread wealth,

widen employment opportunities and improve access to modern technology in the developing world. Marxists, by contrast, have drawn attention to inequalities that operate within global capitalism. World systems theorists, for instance, argue that the interlocking capitalist system is characterized by structural inequalities that are based on exploitation and a tendency towards crisis rooted in economic contradictions. From this perspective, ‘core’ areas in the developed North benefit from concentrations of capital, high wages and advanced technology, while ‘peripheral’ areas in the less developed South are exploited by the core through their dependency on the export of raw materials, subsistence wages and weak frameworks of state protection. Global capitalism thus perpetuates global inequality. Nevertheless, the demise of national capitalism may have been greatly exaggerated. Not only does the bulk of economic activity continue to occur within a national framework, but also the image of economic globalization as an irresistible force may serve largely ideological purposes, in making the trend towards the free market seem inevitable (Hirst and Thompson 1999). However, rather than dismissing the very idea of global capitalism, whether as liberating or exploitative, as a myth, it is perhaps better to think of it as part of a more complex reality that combines national, regional and global elements.

The ideal of the market The idea of the market in the liberal tradition is tied to the important consequences it is meant to have. Markets do certain things in this ideal conception, and that has been key to their justification. This justification has centred on the market’s supposedly unique ability to create wealth, by generating an unrelenting impetus for enterprise, innovation and growth. In the idea of a market, growth is the central goal – the measure of success imposed on any exchange or production. But just how does the market ensure growth?

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First, markets ensure that resources are used most efficiently. The market is a highly sophisticated communication system, constantly sending messages or ‘signals’ between consumers and producers. The price mechanism acts as the central nervous system of the economy, transmitting signals through fluctuating prices. The point here is rationality. Markets function as complex communication networks that use signals (such as prices) to direct resources and labour to wherever will generate more wealth. As Friedrich Hayek (1988) argued, ‘decentralised control over resources, control through several property holders, leads to the generation and use of more information than is possible under central direction’. For example, a rise in the price of saucepans conveys to consumers the message ‘buy fewer saucepans’, while producers receive the message ‘produce more saucepans’. The market is thus able to accomplish what no rational allocation system could possibly achieve because it places economic decision-making in the hands of individual producers and consumers. As a result, market economies constantly adapt to changes in commercial behaviour and economic circumstance. Economic resources are used efficiently because they are drawn, irresistibly, to their most profitable use. New and expanding industries will win out against old and inefficient ones, as healthy profit levels attract capital investment and labour is drawn by the prospect of high wages. In this way, producers are encouraged to calculate costs in terms of ‘opportunity costs’, that is, in terms of the alternative uses to which each factor of production could be put. Only a market economy is therefore capable of meeting the criterion of economic efficiency proposed by the Italian economist and elite theorist Vilfredo Pareto (1848–1923), namely that resources are allocated so that no possible change could make someone better off and no one worse off. Efficiency also operates at the level of the individual firm. The market decentralizes economic power by allowing vital decisions about what to produce, how much to produce and at what price to sell, to be made by each business. Again, Hayek (1988) summarizes this well in his critique of planning: ‘Once we realise what the task of such a central planning authority would be, it becomes clear that the commands it would have to issue could not be derived from the information the local managers had recognised as important, but could only be determined through direct dealings among individuals or groups controlling clearly delimited aggregates of means.’ Capitalist enterprises operate in a market environment that rewards the efficient and punishes the inefficient. To compete in the marketplace, firms must respond to relevant information, and keep their prices low. They are thus forced to keep costs down. Market disciplines therefore eradicate waste, over-manning and low productivity. There is no doubt that in certain respects these disciplines imposed are harsh – the collapse of failed businesses and the decline of unprofitable industries – but the market justification is that this is the price for a overall prosperous economy. Second, market economies are consumer responsive. In a competitive market, the crucial output decisions – what to produce and in what quantity – are made in light of consumer behaviour: what they are willing and able to buy. In other words, the consumer is sovereign. The market is thus a democratic mechanism, governed by the purchase decisions, or ‘votes’, of individual consumers. This point was made by Milton Friedman in Capitalism and Freedom (1962): By removing the organization of economic activity from the control of political authority, the market eliminates this source of coercive power. It enables economic strength to be a check to political power -rather than a reinforcement … if economic

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power is kept in separate hands from political power, it can serve as a check and a counter to political power. For Friedman, the market draws on individual choice in a democratic way and is a decentralized social form of democracy as a result. This is reflected in the bewildering variety of consumer products in capitalist economies and the range of choice confronting purchasers. Consumer ‘sovereignty’ drives technological innovation by encouraging firms to develop new products and improved production. This latter argument has led some twentieth-century classical liberal theorists to justify the market for moral and political reasons, not just economic ones. For instance, the market is morally desirable as it provides a mechanism through which people can satisfy their own desires. Market capitalism is justified in utilitarian terms: it leaves the definition of pleasure and pain, and therefore of ‘good’ and ‘bad’, with the individual. This is clearly linked to individual liberty. Within the market, individuals can exercise freedom of choice: they choose what to buy and where to work, whether to set up in business, what to produce, who to employ and so on. As Friedman (1962) again notes, ‘So long as effective freedom of exchange is maintained, the central feature of the market organization of economic activity is that it prevents one person from interfering with another in respect of most of his activities.’ Furthermore, market freedom is closely linked to equality. In a market economy, people are evaluated based on individual merit, their talent and work ethic; all other considerations – race, colour, religion, gender and so on – are irrelevant. In addition, it can be argued that the market tends to strengthen moral standards. For example, successful employer–worker relations demand reliability and integrity from both parties, while business agreements would be very difficult to conclude without honesty and trust. The market is thus a training ground for ethical behaviour.

Critiques of the market There have been significant criticisms of the market. Most have focused on how the market is the central feature of a capitalist economy. Capitalism is, in Marx’s words, a ‘generalized system of commodity production’, a ‘commodity’ being a good or service produced for exchange; that is, it has market value. The market is therefore the organizational principle that operates within capitalism, allocating resources, determining what is produced, setting price and wage levels and so on. Criticisms of the market tend to focus on capitalism much more than advocates, and these criticisms take several forms. Especially important are normative criticisms of market inequalities and instrumental criticisms of market consequences. Normative criticisms of the market take several forms. A wide body of theorists in modernity (conservative, republican and socialist) have argued the market is destructive of social values. By rewarding selfishness, the market creates atomized individuals, with little incentive to fulfil social or civic responsibilities. For example, in The Communist Manifesto ([1848] 1976), Marx famously claimed that in capitalism ‘all that is solid melts into air’. Capitalism tends to destroy and transform existing social relationships, replacing feudal categories of blood and kinship with market relations that treat someone based on their labour value. This not only destroys existing social bonds (a point communitarian and conservatives have bemoaned) but also makes people more egoistic, as their behaviour

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is shaped by this market logic. This directly contradicts the claim, made by many classical liberals, that markets encourage social conscience and a kind of cooperation. Normative criticisms of the market also focus on its tendency to create deep social inequality. Again, Marxist and socialist critics loom large. These critiques often place the market within the general institution of private property and the unequal economic power between those who own wealth and those who do not. For Marx, ‘Labour produces works of wonder for the rich, but nakedness for the worker. It produces palaces, but only hovels for the worker; it produces beauty, but cripples the worker … It produces culture, but also imbecility and cretinism for the worker’ (Marx and Engels 1968). An unregulated market will also generate wide income differentials. It is mistaken that the market is a level playing field based solely on individual merit. Rather, the distribution of wealth is influenced by the ruling class’ interests and their use the market to reinforce their dominance. This means that markets tend to distort our understanding of social relations. As Marx notes in The German Ideology ([1846] 1970), ‘The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas … The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material relations, the dominant material relations grasped as ideas; hence of the relations which make the one class the ruling one, therefore, the ideas of its dominance.’ On the other hand, many critiques of the market focus on its instrumental consequences. Such criticisms do not tend to address the ability of the market to create wealth. Marx and Engels acknowledged that capitalism had created previously undreamed of technological progress. However, they also argued that markets, and capitalism generally, are afflicted by fundamental contradictions that tend to produce economic crises. The most common of these criticisms relates to ‘overproduction’, a crisis of supply and demand being out of equilibrium, where supply starts to drastically exceed demand. For Marx, it is an inherent tendency to a competitive market’s structural incentive to continual growth and expansion. As technology improves and productivity rises, wealth in a market will increase while simultaneously diminishing the value of this wealth (as more is produced for cheaper). This leads to a ‘falling rate of profit’ (one of Marx’s most famous and influential economic ideas) in capitalism, that creates unemployment amongst labourers and general immiseration, further driving down demand. In Capital (1968), Marx argued this is what causes economic globalization, as capitalists need new sources of demand. ‘The English, for example, are forced to lend their capital to other countries in order to create a market for their commodities’, Marx argued (Marx and Engels 1968). This criticism has been taken up by other perspectives. For example, criticism has focused on the consumer responsiveness of the market and its ability to address genuine human needs. This occurs because of a powerful tendency towards monopoly. The internal logic of the market is, by contrast with normal expectations, to reward cooperative behaviour and punish competition. Just as individual workers gain power by acting collectively, private businesses have an incentive to form cartels, make pricing agreements and exclude potential competitors. Most economic markets are therefore dominated by a small number of major corporations. Not only does this restrict the range of consumer choice, but it also gives corporations, through advertising, the ability to manipulate consumer desires. As economists such as J. K. Galbraith warned, consumer sovereignty may be an illusion. Moreover, the market responds not to human needs but to ‘effective

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demand’, demand backed up by the ability to pay. This often means that vital resources are devoted to producing expensive cars, high fashion and other luxuries for the rich, rather than providing decent housing and an adequate diet for the people. Quite simply, the poor have little market power. Despite Adam Smith’s faith in natural order, the market may also be incapable of selfregulating. In The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money ([1936] 1965) John Maynard Keynes (see p. 281) argued that there were circumstances in which the capitalist market could spiral into deepening unemployment, without having the capacity to reverse the trend. In the context of the great depression, he suggested that the level of economic activity was geared to ‘aggregate demand’, the total level of demand in the economy. As unemployment grows, market forces dictate a cut in wages, which merely reduces demand and leads to yet more jobs lost. Keynes did not reject the market altogether; rather he insisted that a successful market economy has to be regulated by government. Government must manage the level of demand, increasing it by higher public spending when economic activity falls, leading to a rise in unemployment, but reducing it when the economy is in danger of ‘overheating’. Although the highpoint of Keynesianism came during the ‘long boom’ of the 1950s and 1960s, its influence remains today especially considering the 2008 global financial crisis and the significant recessions resulting from the Covid-19 pandemic. In the latter, the huge level of government investment has suggested a turn away from classical liberal views on government intervention. However, there is an obvious difficulty with understanding the consequences of the market: there has never been a ‘pure market’ system. ‘Impurities’ have been present in all market-based economies, the most obvious of which is government intervention. Indeed, during the twentieth century the predominant economic trend in the capitalist West was for laissez-faire to be abandoned as governments assumed wider economic and social responsibilities. Welfare states (see Chapter 11) were established that affected the labour market by providing a ‘social wage’; governments ‘managed’ their economies through fiscal and monetary policies and, in many cases, government exerted direct influence by taking industries into public ownership. Some have gone as far as to suggest that it was precisely this willingness by government to intervene, rather than leave the economy to the market, that explains the widespread prosperity enjoyed in advanced capitalist states. It is notable, for instance, that even though, this trend has been reversed since the 1980s, in no country has this meant the resurrection of the ‘nightwatchman’ state.

TRADITION: ‘Libertarianism’ Some trends in political thought lack a good name. Such is the case with the deep tendency to value individuality and the social sphere of the market in nineteenth-, twentieth- and twenty-first-century Western political thought that is broadly referred to as ‘libertarianism’, a popular rather than academic term. This group occupies a theoretical

position that ranged from classical liberalism to individualist anarchism. The libertarian tradition is characterized by the strict priority allocated to liberty (understood in negative terms) over other values, such as authority, tradition and equality. Libertarians seek to maximize the realm of individual freedom and minimize public authority, typically

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seeing the state as the principal threat to liberty. This anti-statism differs from classical anarchist doctrines, in that it is based on an uncompromising individualism that places little emphasis on human sociability. The two best-known libertarian traditions are rooted in, respectively, the idea of individual rights and laissez-faire economic doctrines. Libertarian theories of rights stress that the individual is the owner of his or her person and that people have an absolute entitlement to the property their labour produces. They are thus founded on an extreme faith in the individual and freedom. Libertarian economic theories emphasize the self-regulating nature of the market and portray government intervention as unnecessary and counterproductive. Although all libertarians reject government’s attempts to redistribute wealth and deliver social justice (see Chapter 11), a division can be drawn between libertarian anarcho-capitalists who view the state as an unnecessary evil, and those who recognize the need for a minimal state. The relationship between libertarianism and liberalism (see p. 37, 280) is complex and contested. An important tendency in modern libertarianism is revived interest in ideas associated with classical liberalism, such as spontaneous market order and a rights-based theory of social justice. Most libertarians nevertheless argue that liberalism, even in its classical form, fails to sufficiently prioritize liberty over order and accepts too much of the state. On the other hand, it has often been pointed out that neoliberalism or “market liberalism” in the twentieth century significantly overlaps with libertarian views on rights and the market. Outside the realm of economics, however, libertarians and neoliberals have differed sharply over foreign policy and social regulation. Criticisms of libertarianism generally fall into one of two categories. The first sees the rejection of any form of welfare or

redistribution as an example of capitalist ideology, linked to the interests of private wealth. The second highlights the imbalance in libertarian philosophy that allows it to stress rights but ignore responsibilities, and which values individual ability but fails to account for the extent to which these are a product of the social environment. Key figures Adam Smith (1723–90)  Scottish economist and philosopher, Smith was a critic of mercantilism and made the first systematic attempt to explain the workings of the economy in market terms, emphasizing the role of the ‘invisible hand’ of market competition. A classical liberal, his best-known works include The Theory of Moral Sentiments ([1759] 1976) and The Wealth of Nations ([1776] 1930). Max Stirner (1806–56)  A German philosopher, Stirner developed an extreme form of individualism based on egoism: a philosophy that places the individual self at the centre of the moral universe. He argued that individual action should be unconstrained by law, social convention or moral and religious principles. His most important political work is The Ego and His Own ([1845] 1963). Friedrich Hayek (1899–1992)  An Austrian economist and political philosopher, Hayek was the most influential free-market theorists. An exponent of the so-called Austrian School, he portrayed the market as the only means of ensuring economic efficiency, and attacked government intervention as totalitarian. Hayek was a classical liberal rather than a conventional libertarian. His best-known works include The Road to Serfdom ([1944] 1976), The Constitution of Liberty (1960) and Law, Legislation and Liberty (1979). See also Robert Nozick (p. 246)

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PLANNING Some idea of planning constitutes the key alternative to the market as the way to organize an economy. This is not only an alternative system but also an intellectual approach. The spontaneous market is in some ways diametrically opposed to the rational planning of economic life. To ‘plan’ is to draw up a scheme or devise a method for achieving a specified goal. All forms of planning therefore have two essential features. First, planning is a purposeful activity, presupposing the existence of clear objectives. These goals may be highly specific, as in the case of the output targets set in Soviet-style central planning, or they may be more generalized, for example: increasing economic growth, reducing unemployment. Second, planning is a rational activity. It assumes that economic and social problems are capable of being solved through the exercise of human ingenuity. The problem of scarcity can best be overcome by constructing a rational mechanism of resource allocation, geared to established human goals. However, the idea of planning is often poorly understood, being linked in many minds only to the machinery of central planning once found in orthodox communist states. Yet planning has assumed a wide variety of forms, having been employed by states in the developing world and advanced industrial countries. Moreover, although some argue that historical developments have discredited the planning process, others argue the same about unregulated markets. Finally, it is difficult to see how economic activity can take place without some element of planning.

The planning process The idea of planning has traditionally been associated with socialist economics, particularly with Marxism (see p. 249). However, Marx never developed a blueprint for organizing a socialist society and, believing that it was impossible to envisage how a historically different society would work, he restricted himself to broad principles. His central claim was that private property would be abolished and replaced by a system of collective or social ownership. At this point, the ‘relations of production’, the sum of social relationships, would cease being a fetter on the further development of the ‘forces of production’, meaning that a communist society would be characterized by material abundance. This would finally solve the problem of scarcity, allowing economic resources to be geared to the satisfaction of human needs, a requirement that presupposes some kind of planning. Unfortunately, Marx did not specify what that arrangement would entail. What is certain is that neither Marx nor Engels envisaged the level of central control and bureaucratic complexity that characterized the planning process in the Soviet Union. Marx consistently supported broad popular participation at every level, and his prediction that the state would ‘wither away’ as full communism was established suggests support for common property and self-management rather than state collectivization. As such, many of the reflections on planning do not come from political theory properly, but political actors and movements. There planning approach reached its highest stage of practice in the Soviet Union, a model later adopted by state socialist regimes in Eastern Europe and elsewhere. Lenin (see p. 250) described communism as ‘Soviet power plus electrification’, indicating a broad commitment to modernization and the task of bringing the economy under democratic control. This vision, however, was not realized until the launch of the First Five-Year Plan

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THINKER KARL MARX (1818–83) German philosopher, economist and political thinker. After a brief career as a university teacher, Marx took up journalism and became increasingly involved with European socialist movements. He moved to Paris in 1843, later spent three years in Brussels and finally, in 1849, settled in London. Marx worked for the rest of his life as an active revolutionary and writer, supported by his lifelong collaborator Friedrich Engels (see p. 250). With few competitors, he is the most theoretically significant thinker in the socialist tradition, spawning his own distinctive academic and practical socialist theory, Marxism (see p. 249). Marx’s systemic theory was derived from a synthesis of Hegelian philosophy, British political economy and French rationalism. His early writings, known as the Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts (1844), outlined a humanist conception of communism based on the prospect of unalienated labour in conditions of free and cooperative production. The ideas of historical materialism started to emerge in The German Ideology ([1846] 1970) and are given their most succinct expression in A Contribution to the Critique of Political Economy (1859). Marx’s bestknown and most accessible work is The Communist Manifesto (with Engels) ([1848] 1976), a popular text that summarizes his critique of capitalism and highlights its transitional nature by drawing attention to systematic inequality and instability. Marx’s classic work is the threevolume Capital (1867, 1885 and 1894), which analyses the capitalist process of production and is based on a structural account of materialist, economic development.

in 1928 and the collectivization of Soviet agriculture. This led to the construction of a centrally planned economy. Except for private plots of land, supposedly for the personal use of peasants, all economic resources came under the control of the state. Under Stalin a ‘command economy’ was established, which involved a system of so-called ‘directive’ planning operating through a hierarchy of party and state institutions. Overall control of economic policy was retained by the Communist Party, the Politburo and the Central Committee. Gosplan, the State Planning Committee, was responsible for drawing up fiveyear plans, which were then implemented by a sprawling network of economic ministries. In other countries, however, planning has been a way of supplementing rather than replacing the market. In such cases, a system of ‘indicative’ planning has developed in which plans do not establish directives instructing enterprises what to produce and how much, but rather seek to indirectly influence the economy. Economists sometimes refer to this form of government intervention as economic ‘management’ to distinguish it from Soviet-style ‘planning’; nevertheless, it still seeks to exercise a purposeful and rational influence over the organization of economic life. After 1945, state intervention became increasingly commonplace in the West as governments sought to meet a broad range of economic objectives: maintaining high economic growth, controlling inflation, boosting international trade, ensuring full employment and fairly distributing wealth. In countries such as the UK and France this led to the nationalization of strategic industries and the construction of mixed economies. Formal systems of planning were also established. In the UK, some steps were taken in this direction under the National Plan, drawn up in 1966 by the ill-fated Department

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of Economic Affairs. However, in France and the Netherlands, more developed and successful systems were introduced. A form of planning was also applied in Japan, clearly distinguishing it from the free-market model of economic development found in the United States. The ‘economic miracle’ Japan experienced in the 1950s and 1960s was overseen by the Ministry of International Trade and Industry, which guided the investment policies of private industry, helped to identify growth industries and targeted export markets. A similar system of careful government intervention to promote exportled growth was adopted elsewhere in East Asia, notably by the ‘tiger’ economies of Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea and Taiwan. India, however, developed a system of planning that drew from Soviet experience, with the Indian Planning Commission set up in 1947 drawing up five-year plans. Although this planning system gave the Indian government considerable influence over investment and trade, it did not amount to direct control.

The value of planning Justifications of planning tend to frame their arguments on economic, political and moral considerations. The economic case for planning focuses on how it is a rational approach to the economy. Planning places the economy firmly in human hands, rather than leaving it to the capricious whims of the market. This is particularly important in establishing overall economic goals – what to produce, and how much to produce. Relieved of the profit goal, planners can organize a system of ‘production for use’ geared to the satisfaction of human needs, instead of a system of ‘production for exchange’ that responds only to market forces. Although human needs are highly complex and variable, especially in consumer taste and popular fashion, there is broad agreement about the basic necessities of life. These include shelter, a healthy diet, primary health care and basic education. Unlike capitalist countries, state socialist regimes orientated their economies around the satisfaction of such needs. Although the central planning systems employed in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe failed to produce Western-style consumer goods, they were nevertheless often successful in eradicating homelessness, unemployment and absolute poverty, problems that continue in advanced capitalist countries. Such achievements required not only that economic resources were channelled into the construction industry, agriculture and the building of schools and hospitals, but also that the prices of basic necessities were subsidized and controlled by the planning process, delivering cheap food, affordable housing, free education and health care. ‘Planning for need’ also offers the prospect of efficiency. Having decided what to produce, planning offers a rational solution to the problem of how to produce, distribute and exchange the goods and services that are desired. In this respect, planning draws on the experience of capitalist firms that have long organized production on rational lines. Although private corporations respond to external market conditions, their internal organization is directed by senior managers, whose task is to ensure the efficient use of resources. In a sense, Soviet planning was an attempt to transfer this mechanism of rational control from the private corporation to the entire economy. In this way, planning was able to avoid some of the irrationalities of market capitalism. For instance, planning systems can avoid the scourge of unemployment and the gross waste of economic resources that

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this represents. Unemployment means that the most vital of all resources, human labour, lies idle while important social needs, such as building of houses or improving schools and hospitals, go unmet. A system of planning also means that the economy can be organized with long-term goals rather than short-term profit. This has been particularly important in the Global South where market pressures can seriously distort economic prospects, as the dependence of many developing states on cash crops clearly demonstrates. Soviet economic development in the 1930s was based on the priority planners gave to heavy industries (the steel industry in particular), seeing these as the basis for both national security and future economic progress. By 1941, the central planning system had created a sufficiently strong industrial base to enable the Soviet Union to withstand the Nazi invasion. Similarly, in the 1950s, Japanese planners rejected the advice of economists to concentrate resources in traditional, labour-intensive industries such as agriculture in which Japan had a ‘comparative advantage’, but instead promoted capital-intensive industries such as steel, automobiles and electronic goods, which they believed were the industries of the future. The political case for planning largely rests on the prospect of bringing the economy under political, and therefore democratic, control. Market capitalism strives to separate economics from politics in the sense that the economy is driven by internal, market forces not by government regulation. The economy is accountable to the owners of private businesses, in whose interests decisions are taken, rather than to the public. In fact, this separation is central to the justification of the market as we saw in the twentieth-century classical liberalism of Hayek and Friedman. Planning, by contrast, creates a democratic economy. Undoubtedly, the image of planning has been tainted by its association with the authoritarian political structures of orthodox communism. However, there is no necessary link between planning and authoritarianism. Indicative planning, as practised in countries such as France, Germany and the Netherlands, is carried out in stable parliamentary democracies in which economic decisions are open to genuine public scrutiny, argument and debate. A moral case can be made in favour of planning. As an alternative to private enterprise, planning attempts to serve public interests rather than selfish ones. If actual systems of planning have failed in this respect, notably the Soviet system of central planning, this may have more to do with political circumstances than with the planning process itself. If the planning mechanism is subject to open and democratic accountability and thus addresses genuine human needs, it will give all citizens a ‘stake’ in their economy. Planning can therefore foster social solidarity and strengthen community, in contrast to capitalism, which encourages only self-striving. There is, moreover, a clear link between planning and egalitarianism, which helps to explain why planning has been so attractive to socialists. Not only does planning often go hand in hand with collective ownership, ending structural inequalities rooted in the class system, but planned economies are also likely to be characterized by more egalitarian systems of distribution, as material rewards reflect social needs rather than individual productivity.

Perils of planning Despite its attractions, several criticisms have been made of planning. However, such criticisms require the caveat that, as in the case of market economies, planning has never

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stood alone as a principle of economic organization, but has always existed alongside market ‘impurities’. Forms of the market existed in the Soviet Union. For example, private consumption was never controlled, allowing a measure of consumer choice to survive; except in wartime, a market in labour was tolerated; peasants’ ‘private plots’ supplied almost half the potatoes and 15 per cent of the vegetables in the Soviet Union; and thriving ‘black’ markets developed in goods that the official Soviet system did not produce. However, the central problems that confronted planned economies have been economic inefficiency and low growth. While the gap between the Soviet Union and the capitalist West continued to diminish until the 1950s, thereafter growth levels declined till the early 1980s when the Soviet economy was shrinking. Political historians tend to agree that the sluggish performance of centrally planned economies, particularly in contrast to the affluent West, significantly contributed to the fall of communism in 1989–91. Theoretically, twentieth-century classical liberal thought has supplied most criticisms of planning. One of the first such criticisms was Friedrich Hayek’s The Road to Serfdom ([1944] 1976). Hayek suggested that planning was inherently inefficient because planners were confronted by a complexity of information that was simply beyond their capacity to handle; ‘the totality of resources that one could employ in such a plan is simply not knowable to anybody, and therefore can hardly be centrally controlled’. Central planning means making ‘output’ decisions about what each enterprise is to produce, and therefore ‘input’ decisions which allocate resources to them. However, given there were over 12 million products in the Soviet economy, the volume of information within the planning system was staggering. For Hayek, ‘Once we realise what the task of such a central planning authority would be, it becomes clear that the commands it would have to issue could not be derived from the information the local managers had recognised as important.’ Economists have, for example, estimated that even a relatively small central planning system is confronted by a range of options which exceeds the number of atoms in the entire universe. However competent planners may be and, however well served by modern technology, any system of central planning is doomed to inefficiency. A further explanation of the poor economic performance of planned economies is their failure to incentivize enterprise. An egalitarian system of distribution may be morally attractive, but it does not promote economic efficiency. Although centrally planned economies achieved full employment, they typically suffered from high levels of absenteeism, low productivity and a general lack of innovation. All Soviet workers, for example, had a job, but it was more difficult to ensure they worked. This problem was acknowledged in the Soviet Union, where an initial emphasis on moral incentives, based on social prestige, soon gave way to differential wage levels and material rewards, albeit more egalitarian than in capitalist countries. Some have gone further and argued that the incentives in planned economies tend to inhibit rather than stimulate growth. Because the overriding goal in such an economy is to fulfil planning targets, industrial managers are encouraged to underestimate their productive capacity in the hope of getting more achievable output targets. Planners themselves are likely to set modest targets since promotion, prestige and other rewards are linked to the successful completion of the plan. The planning machine is thus biased to low growth. Finally, planning has been attacked on political and moral grounds. Planned economies have been associated with bureaucracy, privilege and corruption. In the absence of

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market competition, planners impose their own preferences and values on society. This can lead to the ‘tyranny of the planners’, as economic and social priorities are determined ‘from above’, without the wishes of ordinary people being understood. Centrally planned economies have certainly suffered from the problem of bureaucratization as vast armies of state officials, estimated at over 20 million in the Soviet Union, enjoyed unique privileges. Milovan Djilas (1957) termed this sprawling state bureaucracy the ‘new class’, drawing parallels between it and the Western capitalist class. At the very least, the concentration of economic power in the hands of state officials can foster widespread corruption, a problem that became endemic in state socialist regimes. The fiercest attack on planning was Hayek’s, who argued that it contains the seeds of totalitarian oppression. Once economic life is regulated, all other aspects of human existence will be brought under (often brutal) state control. In this view, Gosplan led to the gulags. In perhaps a more muted form Friedman argued that economic activity needs to act as a barrier to, rather potential support for, state power just to prevent this situation. In Djilas’s (1957) words, ‘By removing the organization of economic activity from the control of political authority, the market eliminates this source of coercive power. It enables economic strength to be a check to political power - rather than a reinforcement.’

CONCLUSION The problem of property concerns the social institution and mode of distribution by which ownership should be organized. Such debates concern the way in which we own, in the first instance, but also larger questions of how we exchange, produce and consume within the economic system. While in some way these debates sit at the genesis of modern political thought, they have also been key movers in the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries where there has been substantial intellectual and political controversy over property and the economy. Even recently, when global capitalism has for some no major competitor, there are deep concerns around inequality, capitalism and the political consequences of economics. For example, how does continued inequality within and between states connect to the deep intransigence of exclusion, racism, ethnic nationalisms and climate change today? However, the controversy around property and economics is often not as apparent because there is substantial agreement within traditions on the broad form of property and the broad economic system they endorse. Where there is controversy (lasting and deep) is between traditions. Liberalism, and to a certain extent conservatism, have long been divided from critical traditions such as Marxism, anarchism and socialism. That said, differences do abound. Marxists and socialists have been concerned to continue understanding the changing shape of global capitalism (branching out into international political theory), as well as bringing their frameworks more into debate with other critical schools such as Frankfurt critical theory and post-structuralism. On the other hand, the twentieth century featured deep debates between more classically and modern-oriented liberals around how to political and socially limit market (and capitalist) negative tendencies. Divisions between neo- and egalitarian liberals, in this regard, have been stark (see Chapter 11). Such divisions continue today in light of ardent questions around the state, the economy and our political communities.

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FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS KARL MARX AND FRIEDRICH ENGELS’S THE COMMUNIST MANIFESTO ([1848] 1976), PTS 1 AND 2 The Communist Manifesto ([1848] 1976) is one of the most widely read and influential political statements of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Written on the eve of the outbreak of the 1848 revolutions in Europe, it was intended to offer a programmatic statement for European socialist movements. Readers thus must keep in mind the public nature of the document. Unlike some of Marx’s other writings, the Manifesto is neither journalism (which Marx often wrote) nor a technical, theoretical text. It is a political manifesto intended for distribution to a working-class, European population to encourage their participation in a revolutionary political movement. Nonetheless, the theoretical impact of the document stems from its succinct summarization of key aspects of Marx and Engel’s ideas. In Part 1, ‘Bourgeois and Proletarians’, it articulates their ‘historical materialist’ approach to understanding economics, as well as applying this to a history from feudalism to modern capitalism. This discussion illustrates the centrality of class struggle, the role of the working class in overcoming capitalism, and the understanding of capitalist dynamics in their theory. Part 2, ‘Proletarians and Communists’, lays out the relationship between the communist movement and the working class. It moves from general claims about why communism serves the broad interests of that group to specific measures it endorses.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘When people speak of the ideas that revolutionize society, they do but express that fact that within the old society the elements of a new one have been created, and that the dissolution of the old ideas keeps even pace with the dissolution of the old conditions of existence.’ 2. ‘All property relations in the past have continually been subject to historical change consequent upon the change in historical conditions.’ 3. ‘The history of all past society has consisted in the development of class antagonisms, antagonisms that assumed different forms at different epochs.’ 4. ‘The executive of the modern state is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie.’ 5. ‘Labour produces works of wonder for the rich, but nakedness for the worker. It produces palaces, but only hovels for the worker; it produces beauty, but cripples the worker … It produces culture, but also imbecility and cretinism for the worker.’

Reading questions 1. What is the role of material structures in Marx and Engels’s theory? How do they relate to ideas? 2. What moves history? 3. How do Marx and Engels understand class? 4. How is the state related to material structure?

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QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What is property? yy How do liberals justify private property yy Why have Marxists and others viewed property as ‘theft’? yy Is state ownership collective? yy What is the relationship between capitalism and the market? yy How, supposedly, does the market mechanism generate economic equilibrium?

yy What types of criticisms have social and political theorists made of the market?

yy What is the relationship between

socialism and planning? yy How has planning been upheld on moral grounds? yy Are planned economies inefficient?

FURTHER READING Ingham. G. Capitalism (2008). An accessible introduction to classical accounts of capitalism in the works of Smith, Marx, Schumpeter, Weber and Keynes, which goes on to analyse capitalism’s key institutions and their interactions. Mack, E. and Gaus, G. ‘Classical Liberalism and Libertarianism: The Liberty Tradition,’ in The Handbook of Political Theory (2004). An Incredibly useful chapter not only explaining classical liberalism and its twentieth-century recreation, but doing so In terms of libertarianism.

Ryan, A. Property (1988). A clear and insightful introduction to some of the moral, political and sociological issues associated with the institution of ownership, reflecting an underlying concern with the relationship between property and liberty. Wood, A. Karl Marx (2004). Now in its second edition, this is one of the most comprehensive and updated account’s of Marx’s theory and its relevance to contemporary social and political theory. Running through most of Marx’s key concepts and ideas, this is a key text.

CHAPTER 11

THE PROBLEM OF EQUALITY: SOCIAL JUSTICE AND WELFARE Introduction270 Equality271 •• Criticizing inequality 272 •• Formal equality 274 •• Equality of opportunity 276 •• Equality of outcome 277 Social Justice •• According to needs •• According to rights •• According to deserts

279 280 284 285

INTRODUCTION The problem of equality a central issue confronting modern and contemporary political thought. Like property (Chapter 10), it links early modern conversations with deep controversies in the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries. As such, this chapter could also have come earlier in this work, however, placing it here illustrates how equality has and continues to be a central problematic for political thinking.

Welfare287 •• The idea of welfare: Fighting poverty and exclusion288 •• Justifications of welfare 290 •• Criticizing welfare: Roll-back, reform and governmentality293

This problem takes an enigmatic form. Whereas classical and medieval thinkers assumed social hierarchy, modern ones have argued that all human beings are, in some important sense, equal. This is the ‘the egalitarian plateau’: the broad consensus in the West that all individuals are equal and that this should be reflected politically. However, in what way people are Conclusion295 equal (morally, politically, economically?) and how that should be institutionally manifested, has been intellectually and politically controversial. Many, for example, have seen the traditional left/right political spectrum as mapping differing 270

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attitudes towards equality. Yet, few modern thinkers have been prepared to reject egalitarianism, be it in relation to legal rights, political participation, or life chances or opportunities. The modern battle about equality is not about whether to support the principle, but between different views of where, how and to what equality should be applied. Such debates occur across different conceptions of equality as formal, opportunity and outcome. The issue of equality has provoked particularly intense debate when it has been applied to the distribution of wealth or income in society, what is commonly referred to as ‘social justice’. How should the cake of society’s resources be cut? Whereas some insist that an equal, or at least more equal, distribution of material rewards is desirable, others argue this risks ignoring natural differences among people. However, in almost all parts of the world, the cause of equality and social justice has been associated with calls for the growth of social welfare. During the twentieth century, a ‘welfare consensus’ emerged across significant traditions of political thought and public ideologies. Welfare provision was widely seen as a cornerstone of a stable state. Since the late twentieth century, the consensus has broken down, leaving welfare within a bitter ideological dispute that echoes earlier political battles over equality. What are the attractions of the welfare state? And why has the principle of welfare been so stridently criticized? How have movements in critical thought, oddly, participated in this critique of welfare, undermining political equality?

EQUALITY The problem of equality concerns the areas in social, political and/or economic life where we should be equal. Equality is a fundamental norm and problem for modern thinkers because of its wide appeal and deep ambiguity. Despite contestation, there is a shared scope of questioning. Political equality concerns exactly where, and around what conditions, human life should be levelled. The general concept of equality tends to refer to uniformity overall: two things are equal when they are the same. But when it is applied to specific things (whether people, objects or something else) it is inevitably about a dimension around which equality is relevant for those specific objects. For example, attributing equal cost to two objects is about equal economic value. In political theory the equality of humans is not about their general ‘uniformity’. In fact, it is exactly because humans are different in many ways (beliefs, talents, attributes, dispositions) that equality is raised. The question is, despite being different, in what ways should humans be understood and treated as equals? This is the question: ‘equality of what?’ In what should people be equal, when, how, where and why? The goal is to establish the legal, political or social conditions in which people are equal in the way they should be. There are as many forms of equality as there are conditions of human existence. It is thus possible to talk about moral equality, legal equality, political equality, social equality, sexual equality, racial equality and so on. Such a proliferation is not simply conceptual. Rather, the great variety of forms stems from the live critical tradition in political thought concerned with identifying and criticizing forms of inequality. What will be key in

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the discussion below is to draw some lines around these critical debates. This will set up the normative question of the different ways in which equality has been conceived and implemented. The most significant of which have been formal equality, equality of opportunity and equality of outcome. Although the ideas of equal opportunities and equal outcome developed out of an original commitment to formal equality, they point in very different directions. For instance, supporters of legal equality may roundly denounce equality of opportunities when this implies discrimination in favour of the poor or disadvantaged. Similarly, advocates of social equality may attack the notion of equal opportunities claiming it amounts to the right to be unequal. Egalitarianism thus encompasses a broad range of views, and its political character has been deeply contested.

Criticizing inequality The critical approach to equality in modern Western political thought is concerned with the sources and consequences of sociopolitical inequalities. It includes a variety of perspectives: liberalism, republicanism, socialism and Marxism, feminism, Frankfurt critical theory and post-structuralism. As such, it is difficult to generalize about, and a comprehensive account is not possible, especially as these issues are addressed in other chapters under various topics. Rather, this section will illustrate how the critique of inequality entered the modern tradition, to contextualize the dominant normative accounts of equality that follow. The concept of equality was not widely endorsed in pre-modern Europe. Ancient Greek thinkers were generally hostile. Plato famously argued that inequality (in talents, roles and capacities) was natural and that sociopolitical structure should reflect that fact. In Book III of the Republic, he describes this through the idea that citizens have souls of gold, silver and bronze, and only those with the first are meant for the task of ruling. Aristotle, despite being more ambivalent on equality, similarly saw no problem with the restrictive application of citizenship in Athens and widespread use of slavery. Roman thinkers were not much more positive. To the extent that equality was relevant, it was only in a reduced formal sense: generally, those within the same legal category should be treated equally. However, Roman law acknowledged several different statuses of persons (e.g. patricians and plebeians). Even medieval Christian thinkers had a very limited idea of equality. This is despite the deep theological commitment in Christian thought to the moral equality of humanity as created in God’s image. No medieval thinker used this as a basis for social, political or economic equality and most actively distinguished between the equality of our souls and the need for hierarchy in this life, as in the case of Augustine’s The City of God. With this heritage, early modern thinkers were not originally fixated on equality. Nonetheless, it took an early theoretical significance. For example, Thomas Hobbes is often credited with the first modern emphasis on equality. For Hobbes equality was a natural aspect of the state of nature. However, this is not a normative but factual claim. Hobbes is simply claiming that all else being equal, humans are of relatively equal capacity to the point that we all pose a threat to one another. Additionally, Hobbes’s view of the social contract contains an element of equality. Despite the radical difference between the sovereign and the body of citizens, he suggests that citizens are fundamentally equal in some ways. John Locke, in contrast, introduces a distinctively liberal notion of equality. For him, all individuals were fundamentally morally equal. We have the same list of

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natural rights and these rights have the same status and are due the same protection. As he notes in The Second Treatise on Government ([1690] 1965), ‘there being nothing more evident, than that creatures of the same species … promiscuously born to all the same advantages of nature, and the use of the same faculties, should also be equal one amongst another without subordination or subjection’. However, for Locke our equal natural rights (even to property) are formal: we have an equal legal capacity to own property, not an equal amount of property. His view of equality has almost no distributive implications. It is, rather, with the work of Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712–88) that we get the West’s first major treatment on inequality. Rousseau offers a deep set of concerns with social, material and political inequality that are drawn from his ideal of community. And he roots inequality in the social institution of property and its impacts on political life. This is not only deeply influential on later accounts of inequality within critical traditions such as socialism, it represents a deep criticism of inequality from within the republican political tradition. This critique mainly occurs in Rousseau’s Discourse on the Origin and Basis of Inequality among Men ([1755] 2000). This text was a response to an essay prize competition opened by the Academy of Dijon that asked what is the origin of inequality among people, and is it authorized by natural law? Rousseau’s originality stems from his starting point. He argues that social and political inequality (what he calls ‘moral inequality’) is his concern. For him, this form is unrelated to ‘natural inequality’ (i.e. differences between human physical bodies and minds). Moral inequality is not natural but the product of convention and history. So unnatural is inequality (i.e. distinctions of class and rank) that they can only operate after a series of intellectual changes in humanity arrive. As he notes in Part 2 of the Discourse, ‘inequality, almost non-existent among men in the state of nature, derives its force and its growth from the development of our faculties and the progress of the human mind, and at last becomes permanent and lawful by the establishment of property and of laws’. Inequality is thus a social and historical invention, which requires acculturation to even be possible. It is no surprise then that once the institution of private property arises, inequality causes a host of other problems: ‘In a word, competition and rivalry on the one hand, and an opposition of interests on the other, and always a secret desire of profiting at the expense of others. Such were the first effects of property, and the inseparable attendants of nascent inequality.’ Inequality creates conflict among humans by introducing rank and the inequalities of power and reputation. Not only does this lead to new social ills for Rousseau, but it has deep political consequences. On his argument, inequality leads to the need for coercive laws and non-consensual government. Inequality creates political oppression: ‘By pursuing the progress of inequality in these different revolutions, we shall discover that the establishment of laws and of the right of property was the first term of it; the institution of magistrates the second; and the third and last the changing of legal into arbitrary power.’ In this way, Rousseau’s critique of inequality sets out several key elements of the critical tradition on property: (1) seeing inequality as rooted in social institutions, (2) seeing it as causing destructive and conflictual behaviour and (3) examining the political effects in the way that it pits government and the unequal against each other. This approach to inequality is extended by a variety of thinkers and traditions. As discussed in Chapter 3, social class in the socialist and Marxist traditions dominates

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the discussion of inequality in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. However, issues of feminism, racism and colonialism slowly intrude into the discussion from the nineteenth century as well, something that has often been ignored in mainstream political thought till recently. We take up some of these threads in Chapters 12 and 13.

Formal equality Modern liberal and republican thought has been concerned with normative arguments on how people should be equal, rather than critical questions on inequality. The earliest influential notion of equality in Western political thought is ‘foundational’ equality. It understands people as equal by their shared humanity. This idea arose out of the natural rights theories that dominated political thought in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The American Declaration of Independence (1776), for example, declares that, ‘All men are created equal’, and the French Declaration of the Rights of Man and of Citizen (1789) states that, ‘Men are born and remain free and equal in rights.’ However, what form of equality did such declarations endorse? These are normative assertions about the moral worth of each human life. But what does this form of equality mean? In the early modern period, foundational equality was not associated with the idea of equal opportunities, or equal wealth and social position. Locke (see p. 217), as suggested above, saw no contradiction in endorsing that ‘all men are created equal’ while defending absolute property rights and restricting the franchise to property owners – to say nothing of the exclusion of women from ‘human beings’. ‘Men’ are equal only in that all human beings are invested with identical natural rights. The right to property is a right to potentially own property, not to actually have some. The idea that all human beings possess equal rights is the basis of this ‘formal’ equality. Because of their common humanity, each person is entitled to equal treatment by the rules of social practice. As such, formal equality is a procedural rule that grants each person equal freedom to act however they choose and to do whatever they can do, without regard to their starting opportunities, resources or wealth. The most important manifestation of formal equality is the principle of legal equality, or ‘equality before the law’. This holds that the law should treat each person as an individual, showing no regard to social background, religion, race, gender and so forth. Justice should be ‘blind’ to all factors other than those relevant to the case. Legal equality is thus the cornerstone of the rule of law (see Chapter 6). The principle of formal equality is essentially negative: it is confined to eradicating special privileges and discrimination. This was evident in that calls for formal equality were first made to remove the hierarchy of feudal social ranks (e.g. aristocratic privilege). It also explains why formal equality meets with near-universal approval, enjoying support from conservatives (see p. 142), liberals (see p. 37, 280) and socialists. Indeed, this form of equality seldom needs justification in liberal democratic states in the West: privileges granted to group on grounds of ‘accidents of birth’ (e.g. gender) are now widely regarded as irrational prejudice. Nevertheless, many regard formal equality as limited, perhaps incapable of fostering genuine equality. In On the Jewish Question ([1844] 1978), Marx argued that the political emancipation of liberal thinkers and political rights fell short of fuller human emancipation, not only of the Jews but of all people from the tyranny of class oppression: ‘None of the

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so-called rights of man, therefore, go beyond egoistic man, beyond man as a member of civil society – that is, an individual withdrawn into himself, into the confines of his private interests and private caprice, and separated from the community.’ For Marx, formal equality offers an atomistic form of equality that ignores how class difference divides humans. Marxists have thus portrayed legal equality as ‘bourgeois’ equality, arguing that it disguises the reality of exploitation and economic inequality. These limitations in formal equality are more stark in relation to racial and sexual equality. Formal equality requires that no one should be disadvantaged by race or gender, and is consistent with anti-discrimination laws. However, merely banning racial discrimination does not necessarily counter cultural or ‘institutionalized’ racism, nor does it address the economic or social disadvantages that racial minorities may suffer. Similarly, early feminists such as Mary Wollstonecraft (see p. 275) and J. S. Mill (see p. 168) based their arguments on liberal individualism, holding that gender is irrelevant to public life because each ‘person’ is entitled to the same rights in education, law and politics. Wollstonecraft argued that women should be judged as human beings, regardless of the ‘distinction of sex’. However, although women have achieved forms of formal equality with men in liberal democratic societies, deep cultural, social and political inequalities persist. Many contemporary feminists have, as a result, moved beyond the idea of equal rights and endorsed more radical equality. Socialist feminists, such as Catharine A. MacKinnon (1946–) (see p. 309), highlight the economic inequalities that enable men to be ‘breadwinners’ while women may remain either unwaged housewives or be confined to low-paid and poor-status occupations. Poststructuralist and radical feminists, such as Iris Marion Young, argue that formal equality is inadequate because it applies only to public life and ignores how patriarchy, ‘rule by the male’, is rooted in unequal family and personal life.

THINKER MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT (1759–97) British social theorist and feminist. Drawn into radical politics by the French Revolution, Wollstonecraft was part of a creative and intellectual circle that included her husband, the anarchist William Godwin. She died giving birth to her daughter, Mary, who later married the poet Shelley and wrote Frankenstein. Wollstonecraft developed the first systematic feminist critique fifty years before the emergence of the female suffrage movement. Her feminism, which was influenced by Lockean liberalism and Rousseau’s democratic radicalism (see p. 205, 210), even though she objected to his exclusion of women from citizenship, was characterized by a belief in reason and equality. In A Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790) she criticized the structures and practices of British government from the standpoint of what she called the ‘rights of humanity’. Her best-known work, A Vindication of the Rights of Woman ([1792] 1967), emphasized the equal rights of women based on the notion of ‘personhood’. She claimed that the ‘distinction of sex’ would become unimportant in political and social life as women gained access to education and were regarded as rational creatures. However, Wollstonecraft’s work did not merely stress civil and political rights but also developed a more complex analysis of women as the objects of desire, while presenting the domestic sphere as a model of community and social order.

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Equality of opportunity The equality of opportunity is the second major normative specification of equality in modern political thought. In one sense, it flows naturally from formal equality: equal formal status could lead to the equalization of opportunities before individuals. This connection seems supported by the status of the principle amongst different political traditions. Like formal equality, equality of opportunity enjoys wide support in the political thought and public culture of Western liberal democracies. Social democrats (see p. 194) and modern liberals (see p. 280) see equal opportunity as the cornerstone of social justice, and even modern conservatives now extol the virtues of a society based on individual effort. However, despite links between the two, they can have very different implications, and a consistent application of equality of opportunity may endanger formal equality, or have otherwise perverse effects on equality generally. Equality of opportunity is concerned with initial conditions, the starting point of life, the circumstances in which they live and the prospects available. There is an overwhelming tendency to employ sporting metaphors to clarify the concept. Equality of opportunity is about an ‘equal start’ in life, or a ‘level playing field’. The sporting metaphor is particularly apt as it reveals that the focus on initial circumstances assumes inegalitarian outcomes. Advocates of equal opportunities do not expect all runners to finish a race together, simply because they left the starting blocks at the same time. Indeed, it is precisely the ‘equal start’ to the race that legitimizes its unequal outcome, the difference between winning and losing. Unequal performance can be attributed to differences in natural ability and effort. In effect, the principle of equal opportunity implies an ‘equal opportunity to realize one’s unequal potential’, an equal opportunity to be unequal. For this reason, equality of opportunity relies on a distinction between two forms of equality, one acceptable, the other unacceptable. Natural inequality, arising from personal talents, skills, hard work and so on, is either inevitable or morally ‘right’; people, in this sense, have a ‘right to be unequal’. However, inequalities from social circumstances, such as poverty, homelessness or unemployment, are morally ‘wrong’ because they mean some start the race under much better conditions. In contrast to Rousseau who above argued that social and natural inequalities seldom were related, proponents of equality of opportunity thus assume that, when appropriately constrained, only natural inequalities will result. This is eminently clear in John Rawls’s (see p. 283) conception of ‘fair equality of opportunity’, (see p. 296). For Rawls, an egalitarian liberal, fair quality of opportunity exists when those with the same talents and motivation have the same chance at achieving their aims in a society. As Rawls summarizes, ‘assuming there is a distribution of natural assets, those who are at the same level of talent and ability, and have the same willingness to use them, should have the same prospects of success regardless of their initial place in the social system’ (1999). This highlights the important sense in which equality of opportunity is connected to the idea of fairness. Equality of opportunity, thus, points towards an inegalitarian ideal, but a very particular one: a meritocratic society. The term meritocracy was coined by Michael Young (1961) to refer to rule by a talented or intellectual elite, merit being defined as IQ + effort (although Young used the term satirically). In a meritocratic society, both success and failure are ‘personal’ achievements, reflecting the simple fact that while some are born with skills and a work ethic, others lack them. Not only is such inequality morally justified, but it

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provides a powerful incentive by encouraging people to realize their talents. However, the idea of meritocracy relies heavily on the ability to distinguish between ‘natural’ and ‘social’ causes of inequality in the institutions and practices that create unequal outcomes. In practice, critics argue that social outcomes are always influenced by a wide range of social and cultural factors which contaminate any estimate of ‘natural’ ability. Thus, wherever systems of selective education have been introduced, based on examination, they invariably result in a process of social selection, which systematically favours children from middle-class homes. The problem is that if natural talent cannot reliably be disentangled from social influences the very idea of ‘natural inequality’ may have to be abandoned, and with it the principle of meritocracy. The justification of equality of opportunity is often focused on how it maximizes equal liberty for all. Equal opportunities means removing obstacles to personal development and self-realization. With this logic, it has been a remarkably successful principle in liberal democratic culture. It is widely accepted, for instance, that careers should be open to talent and that promotion should be based on ability. However, some have argued that a rigorous application of the principle may lead to widespread state intervention in social life, violating the principle of formal equality. For example, the family could be regarded as one of the major obstacles to the achievement of equal opportunities. Through the inheritance of wealth and the provision of different levels of parental encouragement, social stability and material affluence, the family ensures people do not have an equal start. To push equality of opportunity to its extreme would mean contemplating banning inheritance and regulating family life through a wide range of compensatory programmes. This issue is often referred to as the ‘family freedom’ issue. In this sense, there may be a trade-off between equality and freedom, with the need to balance between equalizing opportunities and protecting individual rights and freedoms. One controversial equal opportunity policy is reverse or ‘positive’ discrimination. This policy, associated with ‘affirmative action’ on race issues in the United States, discriminates in favour of disadvantaged groups to balance out continued inequality. Such a policy can be justified in terms of equal opportunity. When racial minorities are socially underprivileged, formal equality does not give them a meaningful opportunity to gain an education, pursue a career or enter political life. This was recognized, for instance, in the US Supreme Court case Regents of the University of California v Bakke (1978), which upheld reverse discrimination in educational admissions. Some argue this application of the principle amounts to ‘equal but different’ treatment and so conforms to the strictures of formal equality. Others suggest that unequal treatment, even to compensate for disadvantage, violates equal rights. In the Bakke case, a student was denied a university place by the admission of other candidates with poorer educational records than his own.

Equality of outcome Equality of outcome is the most controversial face of egalitarianism. Whereas equal opportunities requires significant steps towards achieving greater social and economic equality, far more dramatic changes flow from equalized ‘outcomes’. As such, this understanding of equality elicits a fundamental ideological divide: socialists, communists and some anarchists regard a high level of social equality as a fundamental goal, while conservatives and liberals argue that equalizing outcomes is either impossible,

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unsustainable or morally problematic. The dividing line is often around other values and the equality of outcome’s implication for them. Particularly prominent is the relationship with liberty. While for supporters of equality of outcome, equality is a prerequisite for liberty, for critics, equality of outcome precludes freedom. ‘Outcomes’ shifts attention away from the starting point to end results, from chances to rewards. Equality of outcome implies that all runners finish the race simultaneously, regardless of starting points (social position) and running speeds (talents and motivation). What is not immediately clear is exactly what outcome is equalized. Sometimes ‘outcome’ refers to levels of welfare or fulfilment. This is the normative standard of the welfare state and can be interpreted broadly. More often equal outcomes are associated with a substantive material or social equality: an equality of social circumstances, living conditions and possibly even resources or wages. The difficulty is that this is a high standard, which is often thought to make equality conflict with other political values, such as freedom. Rawls argued in A Theory of Justice (1971), that liberal political thought in the middle of the twentieth century had been stuck in the normative conflict between liberty and equality: how to weigh and relate these competing values that are important for the tradition. For many thinkers, material equality is merely one of several desirable goals, and a trade-off must be negotiated between social equality and individual liberty or economic incentives. Even Rousseau (see p. 205), the great critic of property, in The Social Contract ([1762] 1969) did not think we could mandate more than that ‘no citizen shall be rich enough to buy another and none so poor as to be forced to sell himself ’. This is a relative sense of equality, rather than an absolute one, consistent with the modern idea of redistributing wealth from rich to poor, which aims to narrow ‘distributive’ inequalities rather than eradicate them. This results in a theory of relative equality, which accepts rather that social equality can become ‘excessive’, for example when it discourages individual effort. As a result, it is only in the socialist tradition that we find thinkers who argue for a far higher degree of social equality as possible and desirable, getting close to a theory of absolute equality. Marxism (see p. 249) seeks the abolition of the class system through the collectivization of productive wealth. At least in economic terms, this suggests an absolute lack of differentiation. However, even Marx argued the ultimate treatment of individuals would be different, because of differing needs. He famously noted, ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs’ in the ‘Critique of the Gotha Programme’ ([1875] 1968). Supporters of equality of outcome, whether in its moderate or radical sense, usually argue that it is the most vital form of equality, since, without it, other forms of equality are counterproductive. Equal legal rights are, for example, of little benefit to citizens who do not possess material security. Moreover, the doctrine of equal opportunities is commonly used to defend material inequalities by suggesting these reflect ‘natural’ rather than ‘social’ factors. In contrast, defenders of social equality argue that differences among human beings result from unequal treatment by society than unequal natural endowment. Some thinkers argue that equality of outcome is a prerequisite for individual liberty. They argue that a certain level of material prosperity is essential for an individual to be fulfilled. Rousseau feared that material inequality would lead to the enslavement of the poor and deprive them of intellectual autonomy. Equally, inequality would corrupt the rich, making them selfish, acquisitive and vain. Furthermore, a high level of social equality is

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sometimes regarded as vital for social harmony. In Equality ([1931] 1969), R. H. Tawney argued that social equality constitutes the practical foundation for a ‘common culture’, one founded on the unifying force of ‘fellowship’. He castigated equality of opportunity as the ‘tadpole philosophy’: although all may start out from the same position, they are left to the vagaries of the market where some will succeed but many will fail. Marxist support for the collectivization of productive wealth similarly reflects the desire to build a society that is founded on universal fulfilment. This argument, of course, also has critics. They reply that the pursuit of equality of outcome will lead to stagnation, injustice and tyranny. David Hume, in the Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals ([1751] 1983), summed it up well: ‘Render possessions ever so equal, men’s different degrees of art, care, and industry will immediately break that equality. Or if you check these virtues, you reduce society to the most extreme indigence, and instead of preventing want and beggary in a few, render it unavoidable to the whole community. The most rigorous inquisition too is requisite to watch every inequality on its first appearance; and the most severe jurisdiction, to punish and redress it.’ Hume argues social levelling is (1) unsustainable, always remerging and so will require constant correction; (2) economically inefficient; and (3) requires tyranny to be enforced. For conservative and classical liberals, stagnation results because social ‘levelling’ caps aspirations and removes the incentive for enterprise. To the extent that a society pursues social equality it will suffer inertia. The economic cost of equality is also compounded by the moral price. Friedrich Hayek (1979) (see p. 261) and Keith Joseph argued the socialist principle of equality is based on social envy, the desire to have what the wealthy already possess. Policies that promote equality by redistributing wealth rob the rich to pay the poor. The simple fact is, Hayek argued, that people are different and have different aspirations, talents, dispositions, and to treat them as equals therefore results in inequality. As Aristotle (see p. 101) put it, injustice arises not only when equals are treated unequally but also when unequals are treated equally.

SOCIAL JUSTICE The term ‘social justice’ is equally controversial. For some, it is inextricably linked to egalitarianism and a deeply suspect moral project. These conservative and classical liberal thinkers recoil from the term. Hayek, for instance, regarded social justice as a ‘weasel word’, used intentionally to mislead. Social democratic and modern liberal thinkers, on the other hand, treat social justice favourably, as the attempt to reconstruct the social order in accordance with moral principles and rectify social injustices. However, there is no necessary link between social justice and the idea of equality. All theories of social justice can be used to justify inequality, and some are profoundly inegalitarian. Nonetheless, the concept has been a key forum for (mainly) twentieth-century thinkers to offer moral arguments for how the benefits and burdens in society should be distributed. A distinctive concept of ‘social justice’, as opposed to the more ancient ideal of ‘justice’, first emerged in the early nineteenth century. Social justice refers to a morally defensible distribution of benefits or rewards in society. Such benefits usually refer to social, or what Rawls called ‘primary’, goods: things such as wages, profits, housing, medical care, welfare benefits and so forth. Social justice is therefore about ‘who should get what’.

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For example, when do income differentials become so wide they are ‘unjust’? Or, on an international level, is the unequal distribution of wealth between the Global North and South ‘immoral’? Unsurprisingly, political thinkers have not agreed on answering these questions and significantly contest a just distribution of material rewards. Like justice itself, social justice is an ‘essentially contested’ concept. In Social Justice (1979), David Miller therefore identified the major normative options for principles of social justice. These are needs, rights and deserts.

According to needs A theory of social justice based on needs determines distribution through an objective standard all humans are due. Needs differ from wants and preferences. A ‘need’ is a necessity, it demands satisfaction; it is not a desire, which can have an irrational basis. For this reason, needs are often regarded as ‘basic’ to human beings, their satisfaction is the foundation of any human life. While ‘wants’ are matters of personal judgement, shaped by social and cultural factors, needs are objective and universal, belonging to all people. The attraction of a needs-based theory of social justice is that it addresses the most fundamental requirements. Such a theory accepts as a moral imperative that all people are entitled to the satisfaction of basic needs because worthwhile human existence would otherwise be impossible. Attempts to identify human rights are, for instance, often grounded in notions of basic needs. The difficulty is that needs arguments can be challenged that their account of needs is not truly universal, and so fails as an theory of social justice. Any argument based on needs assumes a model of humanity, and is subject to the difficulties of that mode of argumentation (see Chapter 3). The need standard has most commonly been proposed by socialist thinkers, and is sometimes regarded as the socialist theory of justice. As mentioned above, in the ‘Critique of the Gotha Programme’ ([1875] 1968) Karl Marx proclaimed that a fully communist society would inscribe on its banners the formula: ‘From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs!’ It would be a mistake to reduce socialist social justice to need satisfaction. Marx distinguished between the distributive principles appropriate  to full communism and to the transitional ‘socialist’ society. He argued that capitalist practices could not be transformed overnight and that many (e.g. material incentives) would linger in a socialist society. He therefore recognized that under socialism labour would be paid according to its individual contribution and that this would vary according to the worker’s capacities. In effect, in Marx’s view, the ‘socialist’ principle of justice amounted to ‘to each according to his work’. The criterion of need is the ‘communist’ principle of justice because it is appropriate only to a future society of material abundance where the distribution of wealth becomes almost irrelevant.

TRADITION: Modern Liberalism Modern liberalism is a sub-tradition within liberal political thought that emerged from the late nineteenth century and dominated liberal thinking in the twentieth. It revised

classical liberalism (see p. 37), claiming the development of industrialization appeared to deliver not general prosperity, but urban poverty and growing class divides. In the late

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twentieth  century, modern liberal ideals became key to the ‘egalitarian’ liberalism of John Rawls (see p. 283) that continues to dominate liberal thought today. Modern liberal thought is distinguished by an expansive attitude to state intervention, abandoning the classical liberalism ideal of a minimal state. This shift was underpinned theoretically by a re-evaluation of human nature. Modern liberals see egoism as balanced against social responsibility, emphasizing less the quest for wealth, and more individuals’ intellectual and moral development. Such thinking has often included a broader, ‘positive’ view of freedom. Instead of implying that individuals should rise or fall in society strictly based on talents and work, freedom is equated with human flourishing and realizing individual potential. As such, it justifies social and economic intervention. Social interventions safeguards individuals from social evils – disease, poverty, ignorance, squalor and so on. Economic intervention rectifies the imbalances of laissez-faire capitalism, especially the problem of long-term unemployment. Nevertheless, modern liberal support for collective provision and state intervention is conditional. The goal of modern liberalism is to help people to help themselves. This means raising the vulnerable to the point where they can make their own moral choices. Modern liberals have always emphasized that they built on, rather than betrayed, classical liberalism. They do not recommend that negative freedom is replaced by positive freedom, but endorse whichever form of freedom is more appropriate in the circumstances. Similarly, they support economic management not to displace market capitalism, but to make it work more effectively. However, for classical liberals, modern liberalism abandoned individualism and embraced collectivism, breaking with fundamental liberal values. Furthermore, while classical liberalism is characterized by clear theoretical consistency, modern liberalism has been accused of a deep theoretical tension:

its attempt to theorize state action to support individuality may be basically incompatible with its high valuation of individual autonomy. Key figures T. H. Green (1836–82)  A British philosopher and social theorist, Green highlighted the limitations of early liberal doctrines and laissez-faire capitalism. Influenced by Aristotle (see p. 101) and Hegel (see p. 18), he argued that humans are by nature social creatures. Green’s idea of ‘positive’ freedom provided the foundation for the emergence of so-called ‘new’ liberalism in the UK. His chief works include Lectures on the Principles of Political Obligation (1879–80) and Prolegomena to Ethics (1883). William Beveridge (1879–1963)  A British economist and social reformer, Beveridge is best known as the author of Social Insurance and Allied Services (1942, known as the Beveridge Report), which served as the basis for the expansion of the UK’s welfare state. Using the ideas of modern liberalism, the report attacked the so-called ‘five giants’ – want, disease, ignorance, squalor and idleness, and memorably promised to protect citizens ‘from the cradle to the grave’. Beveridge’s 1944 report, Full Employment in a Free Society, endorsed Keynesian demand management. John Maynard Keynes (1883–1946)  A British economist, Keynes’s reputation was established by his critique of the Treaty of Versailles, outlined in The Economic Consequences of the Peace (1919). His major work, The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money ([1936] 1965), departed significantly from neoclassical economic theories, and contributed to establishing the discipline of macroeconomics. By challenging laissez-faire principles, he provided a theoretical basis for the policy of demand management, widely adopted by post-Second World War Western governments. See also J. S. Mill (p. 168) and John Rawls (p. 283)

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Although need and equality have often gone together, modern egalitarian theories have sometimes drawn on broader arguments. The most influential, John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice (1971), has significantly shaped liberal and social democratic concepts of social justice. Though not strictly a needs theorist, Rawls (see p. 283) employed an instrumental notion of needs in his idea of ‘primary goods’. Primary goods are things every rational individual desires, and we desire more of them rather than less. They can include rights, liberties, opportunities, wealth, self-respect and health, amongst others. They are common means for attaining human ends. Social justice therefore concerns how these primary goods, or needs-resources, are distributed. Rawls proposed a theory of ‘justice as fairness’, based on two principles: 1. Each person is to have an equal right to the most extensive liberty compatible with a similar liberty for others. 2. Social and economic inequalities are to be arranged so that they are both: (a) to the greatest benefit of the least advantaged; and (b) attached to positions and offices open to all under conditions of fair equality of opportunity. The first principle (the ‘liberty principle’) reflects a traditional liberal commitment to formal equality. The second (the ‘difference principle’) is a significant measure of social equality. However, this does not justify absolute social equality. Rawls accepts the argument that material inequality is an economic incentive. Nevertheless, he argues that material inequalities are only justifiable when they advantage the least well-off. There has been much debate about what types of systems meet this standard and it has been variously interpreted as requiring a high and fairly low standard. However, generally, this position has been understood to be compatible with a market economy in which wealth is redistributed through the tax and welfare system up to the point this disincentives enterprise and disadvantages even the poor. What is more notable about Rawls’s theory is the way he comes to this conclusion. Rawls’s egalitarian liberalism is based on a reconstruction of social contract theory (see p. 47). Central to this is his infamous thought experiment the original position. Rather than asking his readers to imagine a pre-social state of nature, he imagined a hypothetical situation in which people were deprived of knowledge about (1) their society (beyond general features) and (2) their position in it. They stood behind what he called ‘the veil of ignorance’, and were unaware of their talents, social identities and any other personal features. In this condition, he asked by what principles would people distribute the benefits and burdens of society (i.e. would they choose an egalitarian society or an inegalitarian one). Rawls argued that individuals would ‘maximin’: they would ensure that the lowest in society still lived an acceptable standard. In Rawls’s view, people are likely to opt to live in an egalitarian society simply because, however enticing the prospect of riches are, it would never counterbalance the fear of being disadvantaged. Thus, Rawls began with traditional liberal assumptions about human nature, believing individuals to be rationally self-interested, but created a decision-making structure that would produce a broadly egalitarian distribution of wealth as ‘fair’. Any needs-based theory of social justice clearly has egalitarian implications insofar as it tends to create a minimum standard no one can fall beneath. If needs are the same, material resources should be distributed to satisfy the basic needs of every person. This

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means that every person is entitled to food and water, shelter, adequate health care and personal security. This can have global implications. To allow people, wherever in the world, to be hungry, thirsty, homeless, sick or to live in fear, when the resources exist to make them otherwise is therefore immoral. The need criterion implies that people who live in prosperous contexts have a moral obligation to relieve suffering globally. Indeed, it suggests a global redistribution of wealth, in line with the principle of global social justice (see p. 286). Distribution according to need therefore points towards the public provision of welfare services, rather than any system of private provision where ability to pay affects outcome. Nevertheless, a needs-based theory of justice does not always lead to equal distribution because needs may sometimes be unequal. For example, if need is the criterion, the only proper basis for distributing health care is ill-health. The sick should receive a greater proportion of the nation’s resources than the healthy because they are sick. Distribution according to human needs has received significant criticism, largely because needs are difficult to define. First, conservative and sometimes liberal thinkers criticize the concept of ‘needs’ on the grounds that it is an abstract and metaphysical category, divorced from the desires of actual people. They argue that resource allocation should correspond to the more concrete ‘preferences’ that individuals express, for instance, through market behaviour. Second, it is also pointed out that if needs exist they are in fact conditioned by the historical, social and cultural context in which they arise. If this is true, the notion of universal ‘human’ needs is deeply problematic. People in different parts of the world, with different social conditions, may have different needs. Finally, the idea that the needs of one person constitute a moral imperative on another, encouraging him or her to forgo material benefits, is based on moral and philosophical assumptions. For example, it assumes that human beings have a social responsibility for one another. While such a belief is fundamental to socialism and many world religions, it is rejected by many conservatives and classical liberals, who see human beings as essentially self-striving.

THINKER JOHN RAWLS (1921–2002) US political philosopher. Rawls’s major work, A Theory of Justice (1971), is regarded as the most important work of political philosophy written in English since the Second World War. It has influenced the modern liberal and social democratic traditions, and is sometimes credited with re-establishing the status of normative political theory. Rawls employed the device of the social contract to develop an ethical theory that represents an alternative to utilitarianism (see p. 22). His theory of ‘justice as fairness’ is based on principles that he believed people would support if they were placed behind a veil of ignorance, which deprived them of knowledge of their own social status. He proposed that social inequality is justified only if it works to the benefit of the least advantaged (in that it strengthens incentives and enlarges the size of the social cake). This presumption in favour of equality is rooted in the belief that people cooperating for mutual advantage should have an equal claim to the fruits of their cooperation and should not be penalized because of social inequalities, for which there is no rational justification. Redistribution and welfare are therefore ‘just’ because they conform to widely held views of fairness. Rawls developed a similar justification for the principles of equal liberty and equality of opportunity. In The Law of Peoples (1999), he sought to apply his theory of justice to the larger world of ‘peoples’, and thus explored how far the international realm could be reformed.

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According to rights Despite the prominence of egalitarian trends in political theory, the late twentieth century has seen increasing criticism of egalitarianism and welfarism from classical, neoliberal and conservative thinkers. For example, Robert Nozick (see p. 246) in Anarchy, State and Utopia (1974) rejected both the needs-based principle of justice and equality, instead championing a principle of justice based on the idea of ‘rights’ and ‘entitlements’. In so doing, he built on a tradition of distributive thought dating back to Plato and Aristotle, which suggests that material benefits should correspond to personal ‘worth’. This was also the cornerstone of the classical liberal concept of social justice, advocated by writers such as John Locke and David Hume (1711–76). Just as the concept of ‘needs’ provides the foundation for an egalitarian justice, so ‘rights’ has usually served as the basis for a rival, liberal principle. ‘Rights’ are moral entitlements to act or be treated in a particular way (see Chapter 7). In distributive theory, however, rights have been regarded as entitlements that have been ‘earned’, usually through work. For example, classical liberals argued that the right to own property is based on the expenditure of human labour. Those who work hard are entitled to the wealth they produce because they have added their labour to that thing. In that sense, rights-based theories are not concerned with ‘outcomes’ – who has what – but with how that outcome is arrived at. Rights-based theories are thus a theory of procedural justice. By contrast, needs-based theories are concerned with substantive justice because they focus on outcomes, not on how those outcomes are achieved. Rights theories are therefore properly thought of as non-egalitarian rather than inegalitarian: in themselves, they endorse neither equality nor inequality. From this perspective, material inequality is justified only if talents and the willingness to work are unequally distributed among humankind. This contrasts with Rawls’s theory of justice, which he also claims is procedural, insofar as his method does not require an outcome, but which he asserts would still have broadly egalitarian outcomes built into its major principles. The most influential modern rights-based theory of justice is Robert Nozick’s. Nozick (1974) distinguished between historical principles of justice and end-state principles. Historical principles relate to past actions that have created differential entitlements. In his view, end-state principles such as social equality and human needs are irrelevant to distributing rewards. Nozick identified a set of historical principles through which we can determine if a distribution of wealth is just. He suggested three ‘justice-preserving’ rules. First, wealth must be justly acquired in the first place; that is, it should not have been stolen and the rights of others infringed. Second, wealth must be justly transferred from one responsible person to another. Third, if wealth has been acquired or transferred unjustly this injustice should be rectified. These rules can be used to justify gross inequalities in the distribution of wealth. Nozick rejected absolutely the idea that there is a moral basis for redistributing in the name of equality or ‘social justice’, a term of which he was deeply suspicious. If wealth is transferred from rich to poor, either within a society or between societies, it is only as an act of private charity, undertaken through personal choice rather than moral obligation. On the other hand, Nozick’s third principle, the so-called ‘rectification principle’, could have dramatically egalitarian implications, especially if the origin of personal wealth lies in acts of duplicity or conquest.

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Rights-based theories have been subject to several criticisms. Any exclusively procedural theory of justice is, for instance, forced to disregard end-state conditions. This may mean that circumstances of undeniable human suffering are regarded as ‘just’. A just society may be one in which the many are unemployed, destitute or starving, while the few live in luxury – providing wealth has been acquired and transferred justly. Furthermore, any historical theory of justice, such as Nozick’s, must explain how rights are acquired in the first place. The crucial first step in Nozick’s account is the assertion that individuals can acquire rights over natural resources, yet he fails to demonstrate how. An additional objection to rights-based theories of justice is that they are grounded in what C. B. Macpherson (1973) called ‘possessive individualism’. Individuals are seen to be the sole possessors of their own talents, and they are thought to be morally entitled to own whatever their talents produce. The weakness of such a notion is that it abstracts the individual from his or her social context, and ignores society’s contribution to cultivating individual skills.

According to deserts Deserts-based theories undoubtedly resemble rights-based theories in several ways, notably in rejecting any presumption in favour of equality, and connecting distribution to individual ‘worth’. However, the idea of deserts is distinctive, suggesting a different basis for worth and, thus, material distribution. This basis can take very different forms but is decidedly moral and social-communitarian. Thus, while the notion of ‘needs’ has been understood as a socialist (or egalitarian) principle, and ‘rights’ has been linked to classical liberal theories, the idea of ‘deserts’ has been employed by conservative or communitarian (see p. 57) thinkers intent on justifying, not abstract ‘social justice’, but concrete ‘natural justice’. However, the ideological leanings of deserts theories are difficult because of the broad, even slippery, nature of the concept. A ‘desert’ is a just reward or punishment, reflecting what a person ‘deserves’. In this wide sense, all principles of justice can be said to be deserts, as justice means giving each person what he or she is ‘due’. In a sense, the broader notion of just deserts encompasses both needs-based and rights-based theories. For example, it can be said that the hungry ‘deserve’ food, and the worker is ‘due’ a wage. Nevertheless, there is a narrower concept of deserts. This is related to the idea of innate or moral worth, that people should be treated according to their ‘inner’ qualities. For example, the theory that punishment is a form of retribution is based on the idea of deserts because the wrongdoer is thought to ‘deserve’ punishment not simply because of his actions, but in view of the moral quality that action demonstrates. Conservatives have been attracted to deserts precisely because it grounds justice in the ‘natural moral order’, rather than in the principles of political theorists. To hold that justice is somehow rooted in nature is to believe its principles are inevitable. While a critic of desert theory, J. S. Mill largely agreed with its intuitiveness; for him, desert is the most common theory of justice. In Utilitarianism ([1863] 1972), he comments ‘It is universally considered just that each person should obtain that (whether good or evil) which he deserves; and unjust that he should obtain a good, or be made to undergo an evil, which he does not deserve. This is, perhaps, the clearest and most emphatic form in which the idea of justice is conceived by the general mind.’

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THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL SOCIAL JUSTICE Theories of justice have traditionally focused almost entirely on justice within states or communities. Since the 1980s, however, attempts have been made to extend arguments for social justice to the global arena. This has happened against the backdrop of ‘accelerated’ globalization, and the perception that economic globalization has deepened global inequality. There are at least two contrasting principles of global social justice. The first is grounded in humanitarianism and reflects a basic moral duty to alleviate suffering and severe need. This ‘humanitarian’ model of social justice focuses on the limited task of eradicating poverty. Peter Singer (1993) argued that the citizens and governments of rich countries have a basic obligation to end absolute poverty in other countries on the grounds that (1) if we can prevent something bad without sacrificing anything of comparable significance, we ought to do it, and (2) absolute poverty is bad because it causes suffering and death. The second conception of global social justice is rooted in cosmopolitanism (see p.  235) and goes beyond poverty by seeking to reduce or remove global inequality. The ‘cosmopolitan’ model of social justice is linked to a substantial

redistribution of wealth from rich to poor countries. Most accounts of ‘cosmopolitan’ social justice have emerged out of attempts to extend Rawls’s (see p. 283) theory of justice, (see p. 296), developed in relation to the domestic realm, to the global realm. A globalized version of Rawls’s ‘difference principle’ has thus been used to justify major constraints on economic and social inequality by requiring that the global order operates to the greatest advantage of the worst-off. Influenced by such thinking, Pogge (2008) has argued that the existing global system is unjust and in need of radical reform because it is structured around the interests of rich countries. The idea of global social justice has attracted significant criticism. Some have dismissed the idea arguing that social justice is only meaningful if applied to a substantive political community. Rawls (1971) applied his theory of justice only to the state, on the grounds that it constitutes a closed and self-sufficient system of social cooperation. Second, the principle of global social justice perpetuates the idea that poor countries are somehow ‘victims’ of global injustice, who need to be rescued by others, rather than masters of their own destiny.

Desert theory is, thus, decidedly moral. What we deserve is determined not by the system of entitlements that exist, but by the value of our work, contribution or character. As such desert is usually defined by one of several principles: contribution focuses on the social value of one’s work. Effort focus on the exertion one uses. Recompense focuses on the burdens one incurs. The common thread in desert theory is that justice is a product of people engaging in socially productive work. People deserve different incomes because of their involvement in producing that work. Justice is the result of a system of distribution that matches incomes to the level of socially productive input a person puts in. Thus, all desert theories ultimately measure justice by whether, and to what extent, an individual has raised or improved society. These theories do not generally engage in substantial theorizing over what ‘social improvement’ constitutes but depend on broader ideas of ‘standards of living’ or other metrics.

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The desert theory of justice is related to conservative ideas of ‘natural justice’. Conservative thinkers have often followed Edmund Burke (see p. 28) in regarding the market as little more than the ‘laws of nature’ or the ‘laws of God’. Although Burke accepted the classical economics of Adam Smith (see p. 261) which suggested that intervention in the market is inefficient, he also believed that government regulation of working conditions or assistance for the poor amounts to interference with Divine Providence. If the prevailing distribution of wealth, however unequal, can be regarded as the ‘natural course of things’, it is also ‘just’. Herbert Spencer (see p. 38) also developed a theory of distributive justice that relies heavily on ‘natural’ factors. In Spencer’s view, people, like animals, are biologically programmed with a range of capacities that determined what they were able to do. In The Principles of Ethics ([1892–3] 1982), he argued that ‘each individual ought to receive the benefits and the evils of his own nature and consequent conduct’, a formula that underpinned his belief in the ‘survival of the fittest’. In other words, there is little point in defining justice on abstract concepts such as ‘needs’ or ‘rights’ when material benefits simply reflected individual ‘natural’ endowments. While this is not exactly the desert theory, which does not usually make claims about the naturalness of people’s work, it bears an important similarity. This similarity between desert and natural justice reveals an important limitation. Natural justice can be regarded as an unforgiving principle of justice, what is sometimes referred to as ‘rough justice’. Material circumstances are put down to the roll of nature’s dice: the fact that some people find themselves in favourable circumstance and others do not is not an issue of justice. The simple fact is that some are lucky, and others are not. Many would argue that this is not a moral theory at all, but rather a way of avoiding moral judgements. There is no room for justice in nature, and to base moral principles on the workings of nature is absurd. To portray the prevailing distribution of material resources in terms of ‘natural deserts’ may be no more than an attempt to find justification for ignoring suffering. Similarly, desertism harms in its focus solely on social value. One’s capacity to contribute is often a product of many factors beyond individual control. Making income depend on contribution focuses justice on factors that are often beyond our control while leaving those inequalities intact. In A Theory of Justice (1971) Rawls made this point, calling desert theory the idea that ‘justice is happiness according to virtue’. But tasking a government with matching outcomes in material distribution (happiness) according to the incredibly vague standard of contribution (virtue) is an impossible task.

WELFARE Discussions of equality and social justice in political theory substantially overlapped with discussions of the idea of welfare in the twentieth century. The way welfare arose in these debates is atypical. The focus derives substantially from outside political theory, in political practice, amongst proponents of the welfare state. In this instance, political theory has had to catch-up with actors by turning to a concept already in use. However, in another sense, the focus on welfare derives from an important development in political theory: the late nineteenth-century growth of the tradition of ‘modern’ or ‘social’ liberalism. This school of liberal thought developed out of a sustained critique of classical liberalism and a reconstruction of its understanding of freedom. The result was a different understanding

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of the role of the state in the pursuit of equality. In many ways, this development laid the groundwork for a prioritization of welfare and the pursuit of it through the state. Overall, ‘welfare’ refers to happiness, prosperity and well-being, not mere physical survival but some measure of health and contentment. As such, ‘general well-being’ is a widely accepted political ideal: few political parties would argue against widespread welfare and for deprivation. However, there is substantial room to debate what constitutes ‘well-being’, ‘prosperity’ or ‘happiness’, and so the term has been used variously. The concept derives its contentious character from the twentieth century when it became tied in public discourse to one means of well-being: collectively provided welfare, delivered by government through the ‘welfare state’. The welfare state is linked to the idea of equality in that it aims to secure a basic level of equal well-being for all citizens. For many theorists (e.g. needs theorists), it is a necessary means to pursue social justice. Nevertheless, welfare is narrower than equality and social justice. Whereas theories of social justice usually relate to how the whole of society’s resources are distributed, welfare is concerned with a minimum quality of life, accepting that much wealth is distributed through the market. The first section examines the idea of welfare and the model of the welfare state. The second section looks at the major justifications of welfare and the welfare state across public discourse and political thought in the early to mid-twentieth century. The principle proponents are the modern liberals and social democrats. The third section examines the severe criticism welfare has received from neoliberals, neoconservatives and others. Such criticisms have construed welfare as a solely collectivist principle. As a result, two alternative welfare principles have been offered. The first is the individualist theory of welfare, which holds that well-being is more likely to result from the pursuit of individual self-interest, regulated by the market, than from public provision. This notion of ‘welfare individualism’ is rooted in the classical economics of Adam Smith, but has been revived by market liberal thinkers such as Hayek and Friedman (see p. 38, 261). Second, attempts have been made to develop a ‘third way’ in welfare thinking, which balances collectivism and individualism emphasizing both welfare rights and moral responsibilities. In many ways, the debate over welfare brings discussions of social justice and equality to a head in terms of how they are applied by a state. These have been central questions over the last century and remain ongoing areas of debate.

The idea of welfare: Fighting poverty and exclusion The term ‘welfare state’ emerged in the twentieth century to describe the social responsibilities of government. However, the term has at least two contrasting senses. The broad meaning, in the form of ‘a welfare state’, sees welfare provision as a, or the prominent, function of the state. This is how William Temple, Archbishop of York, first used the term in 1941 to distinguish Western ‘welfare states’, orientated around the promotion of social well-being, from what he called the ‘power states’ of Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia. This is also the sense in which modern welfare states can be contrasted with the minimal or ‘nightwatchman’ states, whose domestic functions were largely confined to maintaining domestic order and international security. The latter illustrates that this is a particular conception of the state and its role. Welfare states are versions of an ethical theory of the state as a form of civil association that constitutes a real moral community. For G. W. F. Hegel in The Philosophy of Right ([1821] 1942), ‘The essence of the modern

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state is the union of the universal with the full freedom of the particular, and with the welfare of individuals.’ Welfare states fully link and integrate individuals into community through seeking the fulfilment of each individual. However, the term is more commonly used in the narrower sense, ‘the welfare state’. It describes the policies and institutions through which welfare is delivered. Institutions such as the social security system, health service and public education are often referred to collectively as ‘the welfare state’. It is, nevertheless, difficult to determine which institutions and policies are part of the welfare state in this sense because a wide range of public policies can have a ‘welfare’ goal. The most common image is of positive welfare provision, the delivery of services such as pensions, benefits, housing, health and education, which the market either does not provide or does not provide adequately. In this sense, the welfare state is a supplement or replacement for a private provision system. This was the form of welfare state constructed post-1945 in the UK, modelled on the Beveridge Report (1942), and subsequently adopted throughout Western Europe. However, welfare provision can also be negative, in that it promotes social well-being not through service provision but regulation of market behaviour. For example, any government influence on working conditions – legal protection for trade unions in industrial action, minimum wage legislation and health and safety regulations – serves a welfare purpose. It is sometimes difficult, however, to determine if a state has a welfare state. This problem is particularly apparent in the United States. On the one hand, the United States clearly does not possess the comprehensive institutions typically found in European states; on the other, a wide range of benefits are available in the form of social insurance, based on the Social Security Act 1935, Medicare and Medicaid, the food stamps programme and so on. Following Gosta Esping-Andersen (1990), it is possible to identify three distinct forms of welfare provision found in developed industrialized states. The US, Canadian and Australian systems can be described as liberal (or limited) welfare states since they provide little more than a ‘safety net’. In countries such as Germany, conservative (or corporate) welfare states provide a more extensive range of services but depend heavily on the ‘paying in’ principle and link benefit closely to jobs. Social democratic (or Beveridge) welfare states, such as the classical Swedish and the original UK system, are based on universal benefits and the maintenance of full employment. Nevertheless, the distinctions between these models have become increasingly blurred since the 1990s, because of the tendency towards welfare reform. Whatever form they take, all welfare states are defined by particular political values and norms. Although they may address more ambitious goals, the eradication of poverty is their most fundamental objective. But what is ‘poverty’? On its face, poverty means being deprived of the ‘necessities of life’, sufficient food, fuel and clothing to maintain ‘physical efficiency’. Originally, this was an absolute standard, below which human existence became difficult to sustain. From this perspective, poverty hardly exists in developed states such as the United States, Canada, the UK and Australia; even the poor in such countries have ‘the necessities’. However, regarding as ‘poor’ only those beneath an absolute standard ignores how poverty may consist in being deprived of the standards, conditions and pleasures enjoyed by the majority. This is relative poverty, defined as lacking ‘the living conditions and amenities which are customary, or at least widely encouraged and approved, in the society to which they belong’ (Townsend 1974). In this sense, the poor

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are the ‘less well-off ’ rather than the ‘needy’. This suggests that welfare may be about social division as much as poverty. The concept of relative poverty is thus theoretically and politically contentious because it links poverty and inequality, and suggests that the welfare state’s task of eradicating poverty can only be achieved through redistributing wealth and promoting social equality. Consequently, recent debates about welfare often focus on social exclusion rather than poverty. The traditional idea of poverty has two important implications. It suggests that disadvantage is essentially economically linked to material deprivation, whether absolute or relative, and that disadvantage is a structural matter; in effect, the poor are the ‘victims’ of social injustice. ‘Social exclusion’ is a broader concept: it includes the processes and conditions that detach individuals and groups from the social mainstream. The socially excluded suffer from multiple deprivation, in that, although they are materially poor, they also are marginalized by educational failure, crime or anti-social behaviour, a dysfunctional family, or the absence of the work ethic. In short, cultural factors may be as important as economic ones in explaining social disadvantage. The language of social exclusion has shifted thinking on welfare. For instance, whereas a concern with poverty links welfare provision to the pursuit of social equality achieved through the redistribution of wealth, a social concern leads to boosting life chances by improving education and skills, and widening access to work. Equality is therefore redefined as social inclusion and the range of issues thought relevant (beyond the material) expands. This can be seen dramatically in the range of issues discussed in Chapter 12 under the headings of exclusion and recognition.

Justifications of welfare Justifications for welfare as the guiding principle of government have taken many forms. These arguments range across political theory and applied political traditions. What is distinctive about the concept of welfare, compared to other political concepts addressed in this work, is that political actors and movements have led on the concept of welfare. That said, important theoretical developments, particularly in modern liberalism and social democracy, paved the way. Finally, despite all this variety and difference, welfarism is founded on the common belief that social well-being is properly the responsibility of the political community, the ethical state, and that this responsibility should be met through government. In the post-1945 period, a ‘welfare consensus’ developed across much of the world, which saw parties of the left, right and centre competing to establish their welfarist credentials, backed up by a wider body of thought that in different ways emphasized alleviating poverty. Perhaps its most distinctive form is ‘liberation theology’ in Latin America (see p. 291). This consensus was underpinned by powerful electoral factors, as a large body of voters recognized that the welfare state provided social safeguards which freemarket capitalism did not. Nevertheless, welfarism is by no means a coherent philosophy. Although liberals, conservatives and socialists have each recognized its attractions, they have often been drawn to welfare by different considerations and endorsed different systems of welfare provision. In public discourse, several justifications of the welfare state became prominent in the early twentieth century. Particularly prominent has been the national efficiency argument.

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BEYOND THE WEST LIBERATION THEOLOGY Liberation theology is a movement in the Roman Catholic Church that arose in the 1960s, mainly in Latin America. The central theme in liberation theology is that there is a special duty of the believing Christian to work for the liberation of the poor and the oppressed, based on the belief that Christ came not merely to redeem, but to liberate. This was expressed through the idea of a ‘preferential option for the poor’. Liberation theology gained its distinctive theoretical character from attempts to merge Christian theology with aspects of Marxism. While liberation theology drew on moral imperatives that were supposedly rooted in Catholicism, Marxist class analysis was used as an analytical tool to explain poverty and oppression in Latin America and elsewhere, and means of addressing it. In A Theology of Liberation (1971; English translation 1973), Gustavo Gutiérrez, a Peruvian priest often portrayed as the founder, argued that the social context of human existence plays an important, if not the primary, role in mediating between the will of God and humankind. This implied that religious truth must be interpreted in the light of changing social conditions. Some went further than Gutiérrez, in holding that socialist revolution was the only option for Christians, a position adopted, for example, by the Christians for Socialism movement, founded in 1972. However, under Pope John Paul II (1978–2005), the Vatican stamped out what it called the ‘singular heresy of liberation theology’, a task entrusted to Cardinal Ratzinger, who later became Pope Benedict XVI (2005–12). This coincided with a tendency towards deradicalization, as leading liberation theologians moved their writings in a more spiritual and communitarian direction, distancing themselves from Marxism and abandoning revolution. Since 2012, Pope Francis, a former Argentine bishop and the first pope to come from Latin America, has placed a particular emphasis on leading a ‘church for the poor’, suggesting that liberation theology, shorn of its Marxist dimensions, may be back in fashion and may even have entered the Catholic mainstream.

When a country’s workforce is sickly it cannot build a prosperous economy, still less develop an effective army. It is therefore no coincidence that in countries such as Germany and the UK the foundations of the welfare state were laid in the decades before the outbreak of the Second World War, a period of colonial expansion and growing international rivalry. Although such motives have little to do with altruism, it can be argued that a productive workforce is beneficial for the whole of society. Indeed, it is often suggested that the growth of social welfare is linked to a stage of economic development. Whereas early industrialization makes use of a largely unskilled, manual workforce, further industrial progress requires educated workers, who can utilize modern technology. The function of the welfare state is to bring this workforce into existence and maintain it. Several traditions in political thought have also offered distinctive justifications of welfare. First, welfare has been justified as key to social cohesion and national unity. This concern was prominent among conservative thinkers, who feared that grinding poverty and social deprivation would generate revolution. In the UK, the Conservative statesman Benjamin Disraeli (1804–81) thus justified social reform on the grounds of ‘one nation’ principles,

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arguing that it would counter the prospect of the country being divided into ‘two nations: the Rich and the Poor’. Similar concerns underpinned the construction of the world’s first modern welfare state, in Germany during the 1880s, as Chancellor Bismarck’s aimed to wean the working masses from socialism by improving their conditions. The conservative welfare tradition is based on a combination of prudence and principle. Prudence is evident in the recognition that reform is preferable to revolution; concessions made to the working class, in terms of welfare rights, help to uphold established institutions and serve the long-term interests of the rich. Such thinking is nevertheless linked to the principle of paternalism and belief that the ‘price’ of privilege is an obligation to help the ‘deserving poor’. This is a stance that is sometimes rooted in the neo-feudal idea of noblesse oblige, the obligations of the aristocracy to be generous. The liberal case for welfare, by contrast, has been based on political principles and rooted in the work of modern liberal political thinkers. These thinkers have focused on how welfare broadens our conception of freedom. Although early liberals feared that social reform would sap initiative, modern liberals saw it as an essential guarantee of individual self-development. Such a theory was advanced in the late nineteenth century by the ‘new’ liberals, T. H. Green (see p. 281), Leonard Hobhouse (1864–1929) and J. A. Hobson (1858–1940), whose views created the intellectual climate for later welfare reforms. They argued that liberal principles required the state to intervene to ensure equality and democracy as a requirement of citizenship, rather than just to alleviate poverty. For all citizens to be full members of the political community, we need to understand ‘it is the business of the state, not indeed directly to promote moral goodness, for that, from the very nature of moral goodness, it cannot do, but to maintain the conditions without which a free exercise of the human faculties is impossible’ (Green 1911). In Liberalism ([1911] 1964), Hobhouse went further, reconstructing liberalism and its conception of freedom. For him, freedom is not non-interference, ‘the struggle for liberty is also, when pushed through, a struggle for equality’. The state needs to enlarge liberty by making the liberty of all citizens effective so they can actually make choices and exercise their rights. This is thus a positive conception of freedom (see Chapter 7) that justifies an active state equalizing opportunities. It is the responsibility of the state to ‘secure the conditions upon which mind and character may develop themselves’. The impact of this reconstruction of liberalism is twofold. On the one hand, in political thought, egalitarianism becomes a dominant strand in twentieth-century liberal theory. For example, John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice continued this question of reconciling freedom and equality in a way that broadly justifies a welfare state. Its impact was perhaps even greater in political liberalism, which increasingly assumed that it should safeguard individuals from social evils such as deprivation, unemployment, sickness and so on. These motives influenced the introduction of social welfare in the United States in the 1930s, under F. D. Roosevelt’s ‘New Deal’, as well as Lyndon Johnson’s ‘War on Poverty’ in the 1960s. This theory was still decidedly liberal. Liberal welfarism’s ultimate purpose was to enable individuals to make their own moral decisions, to help individuals to help themselves. Once deprivation has been alleviated, liberals hope that individuals will take responsibility for their own economic and social circumstances. The socialist or social democratic case for welfare goes further. Although social democratic politicians have increasingly come to adopt the language of liberal welfarism, they traditionally

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based their support for welfare on two radical principles: communitarianism and equality. Social democrats have, for example, seen welfare provision as a means of promoting the bonds of sympathy that characterize a genuine community. In The Gift Relationship (1970), for example, Richard Titmuss suggested that the welfare state is an ethical system, based on reciprocal obligations amongst citizens. People should receive welfare as if it is a gift from a ‘stranger’, as an expression of human sympathy, as in the case of blood donations. In the alternative argument, social democrats have linked welfare to equality, portraying the welfare state as a counterweight to the injustices of market capitalism. Social welfare is a redistributive mechanism, transferring wealth from rich to poor, through a benefits system that is financed by progressive taxation. Such a vision was outlined in Anthony Crosland’s The Future of Socialism ([1956] 2006), which defined socialism in terms of equality as opposed to common ownership. Nevertheless, the welfare state can never bring about absolute social equality; its goal is rather to ‘humanize’ capitalism by reducing distributive inequalities. As such, social democratic welfarism is dedicated not merely to fostering equal opportunities but also to bringing about a greater measure of equality of outcome.

Criticizing welfare: Roll-back, reform or governmentality? While arguments justifying the welfare state have spanned intellectual and political discourses, the more recent substantial criticisms have been popular in origin. This is often portrayed, in the usual narrative, as the breaking down of the ‘welfare consensus’ since the 1970s, precipitated by a fiscal crisis of the welfare state. As the ‘long boom’ of the post-1945 period petered out, governments across the developed world confronted the problem of how to sustain their welfare programmes amidst falling tax revenues. Two options were available: push up taxes or cut the welfare budget. And against this background, a growing body of anti-welfarist thinking emerged. However, this is only true in terms of political parties and associated social movements. The main parties here are New Right theorists, who have led the attacks on welfare, and so-called ‘new’ social democrats and ‘third-way’ thinkers have focused on the need to rethink welfare provision and reform the welfare state. This means the political ‘turn against welfare’ has been as ideologically diverse as welfarism itself. However, this ignores that the criticism of welfare has also been, partly, intellectual. Specifically, post-structuralist thinkers such as Michel Foucault have offered a substantial critical account of welfare states in terms of the concept of governmentality, which has split leftist thinkers and political movements, thereby undermining one of the welfare state’s key support bases. New Right criticisms of welfare range over moral, political and economic considerations. The centrepiece of this critique is the idea that the welfare state enslaves the poor by creating dependency turning them into ‘welfare junkies’. George Gilder’s Wealth and Poverty (1982) and Charles Murray’s Losing Ground (1984) were among the most influential attempts to portray welfare as counterproductive. Job creation programmes only push up unemployment by weakening individual initiative, and classifying people as ‘unemployed’, ‘handicapped’ or ‘disadvantaged’ merely convinced them they were ‘victims of circumstance’. In this way, a welfare-dependent underclass had emerged, lacking the work ethic, self-respect and supportive structures of conventional family life. By suggesting that the less well-off can be responsible for their own lives, the New Right revived the idea of the ‘undeserving poor’. In its extreme form, this implies that some

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of the poor are simply lazy and inadequate, interested in living off charity rather than working. However, in its more sophisticated form, it suggests that, regardless of the causes of poverty, only the individual can get himself or herself out of it; society cannot be held responsible. Welfare should be provided to promote individual responsibility. The welfare state should be nothing more than a ‘safety net’, designed to relieve absolute poverty, and benefits should be ‘targeted’ at cases of genuine deprivation. When welfare is a system of rights, as in new liberalism, people are sucked into dependency. The New Right has consequently placed a heavy stress on civil obligations, believing that welfare must be ‘earned’. Therefore many in the New Right have been attracted by the idea of ‘workfare’, which forces welfare recipients to work for their benefits. A further proposal, popularized by Milton Friedman (1962), was that welfare should be replaced by a ‘negative income tax’. This would mean all those below a certain income would receive money from the tax authorities instead of paying tax (as those above this level do). However, the new politics of welfare in the United States and the UK that developed during the Reagan–Thatcher years has not been confined to the New Right or to these countries. The ‘golden age of the welfare state’ has been replaced by substantial welfare reform agendas in most Western liberal democratic states. The language of welfare reform emerged out of the search for a middle way between the anti-welfarism of the New Right, and the welfarism of social democracy. In a sense, traditional social democrats believe that the poor are poor because they do not have enough resources, so the solution is to redistribute wealth through the social security system, while the New Right holds that the poor are poor because they have too much money, so the solution is to scale down over-generous welfare. Advocates of welfare reform argue that the poor are poor because they lack the opportunities and cultural resources to achieve full participation. Welfare reform must replace ‘curative’ welfare policies with ‘preventative’ ones. Welfare reform programmes therefore focus on ideas such as ‘workfare’ and ‘welfare to work’, as well as on attempts to boost citizens’ employability by improving access to education or training. Alongside these largely popular debates, political theory has been oddly situated. On the liberal side, despite ongoing classical liberal detractors, most liberals tend to agree with Rawls’s justification of redistribution in broad strokes and are seeking to work out the principles of egalitarianism. In this sense, there is broad support for the welfare state as a mechanism, with specific questions about its justification and scope. On the other hand, radical and critical debates in political theory have significantly affected the support for welfarism on the political left. Much of this seems to be due to the influence of the work of Michel Foucault and post-structuralism (see p. 82) on political theory. As discussed in Chapters 4 and 5, Foucault offered a wide theory of power as constitutive of all social relations and norms. This account informs a reconstruction of the idea of government. Government concerns the way in which the actions and behaviours of individuals are constrained and limited by states: ‘To govern, in this sense, is to structure the possible field of action of others’ (Foucault 1982). States use their power in a variety of ways to guide conduct towards certain outcomes for a population. For Foucault, modern forms of government, which reach their apotheosis in the welfare state, are defined by government as biopower: their focus on pursuing the welfare of citizens leads them to deploy a range of knowledge and techniques of control designed to push people towards certain outcomes (seen as good for them). By providing services, benefits, resources and knowledge, they limit individual possibilities through government by channelling

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behaviour towards certain norms and actions. The very notion that states have a role to play in the health, mental well-being, education, etc., of a population entails this expansive control. ‘Governmentality’ is then the rationality, techniques and procedures through which the state enacts this control. While Foucault saw this point as mainly explanatory, many other critical thinkers have pointed out that he made these criticisms in the late 1970s during the dramatic expansion of neoliberal and anti-welfare political thinking. What he did, in this, was to undermine support for active, welfare states among critical traditions by portraying them not as pursuing citizen empowerment, but as subtle forms of the state domination of the individual.

CONCLUSION The problem of equality is one of the central issues confronting modern and contemporary political thought. Like the problem of property (Chapter 10), it links together early modern conversations with deep controversies in the nineteenth, twentieth and twentyfirst centuries. For many thinkers, the two problems are deeply interwoven in the history of political thought: thinkers such as Rousseau and a wide variety of socialist, Marxist and other critical thinkers locate inequality in the institution of private property. However, this focus illustrates the foundational and continuing divide between critical and normative thought on equality. While critical thinkers tend to link property and inequality in a way that justifies deep forms of equality (as outcome) and theories of social justice with very high standards, others from liberal and conservative traditions focus on forms of equality that do not require significant redistribution. Nonetheless, what we can see in debates around equality, social justice and welfare is the centrality of egalitarianism in the late nineteenth- and twentieth-century Western political thought. This is a time when concerns around inequality, and normative discussions of how and to what extent to address this, dominate political thinking and public discourse. Despite this unity at one level, this conversation was still subject to a series of theoretical and ideological divisions. Social democrats and modern liberals largely focused on justifying and supplying guiding principles for the welfare state. Classical liberals and conservatives were largely resisting these arguments. And socialists and Marxists were concerned to continue critiques of the changing shape of global capitalism. In many ways, these remained parallel and exclusive conversations that ignored the details in each other. This is not to suggest, of course, that debates around equality have not been central in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. The centrality of welfare has dropped off as welfare states in the West have changed shape. However, debates over equality (how to conceive and justify it) and social justice (how to distribute it) remain central to normative political thought. The prominence of T. M. Scanlon’s work, What We Owe to Each Other (1998), in the recent American television programme The Good Place (2016–20), is only the most obvious example. On the critical side, critiques of inequality have addressed new and pernicious forms of inequality. These perspectives have increasingly been part of the mainstream, as concerns around inequality and its effect on stability in Western liberal democracies has grown. The widespread popularity of Thomas Piketty’s book Capital in the Twenty-First Century

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(2013) is indicative of that. However, this ongoing work has been replaced by a large focus in critical traditions on issues around identity and recognition since the 1970s (see Chapter 12). While this work has sometimes considered economics, they have also been a significant standalone focus pushing critical traditions away from debates on equality, social justice and welfare.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS JOHN RAWLS’S JUSTICE AS FAIRNESS: A RESTATEMENT (2001), PT 1, SEC. 2-4, 6-7; PT 2, SEC. 13 Justice as Fairness: A Restatement (2001) is a concise restatement of John Rawls’s deeply significant A Theory of Justice (1971) that re-articulates the key elements of his theory considering a variety of criticisms. This makes it both a clearer summary and improved version of his theory, though the key architecture and concepts remain the same (with some additional ones from later works such as Political Liberalism). Nonetheless, it represents a concise and full version of his theory. In the selected sections Rawls lays out some of the key parts of his approach and substantive theory. Society as a fair system of cooperation, the idea of a well-ordered society and the basic structure, and the device of the original position all provide key insights into his analytic method, and the limits and opportunities of his theory. The discussion of his ‘Two principles of Justice’ represents the answer these methods produce: his guiding norms for distribution in free and equal liberal democratic states. What readers should note is that Rawls offers a very particular way of asking normative questions that elicits a very specific answer to the questions of justice and equality. Thus, beyond a deep understanding of Rawls and these issues, readers will gain deep insights into one of the most influential thinkers in the liberal tradition in the twentieth century.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘what is the most acceptable political conception of justice for specifying the fair terms of cooperation between citizens regarded as free and equal and as both reasonable and rational, and (we add) as normal and fully cooperating members of society over a complete life, from one generation to the next?’ 2. ‘In using the conception of citizens as free and equal persons we abstract from various features of the social world and idealize in certain ways. This brings out one role of abstract conceptions: they are used to gain a clear and uncluttered view of a question seen as fundamental by focusing on the more significant elements that we think are most relevant in determining its most appropriate answer.’ 3. ‘reasonable persons are ready to propose, or to acknowledge when proposed by others, the principles needed to specify what can be seen by all as fair terms of cooperation. Reasonable persons also understand that they are to honor these principles, even at the expense of their own interests as circumstances may require, provided others likewise may be expected to honor them.’ 4. ‘the basic structure of society is the way in which the main political and social institutions of society fit together into one system of social cooperation, and the way they assign basic rights and duties and regulate the division of advantages that arises from social cooperation over time’.

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5. ‘we must specify a point of view from which a fair agreement between free and equal persons can be reached; but this point of view must be removed from and not distorted by the particular features and circumstances of the existing basic structure’.

Reading questions 1. 2. 3.

Define and discuss the following ideas from Justice as Fairness: a.  society as a fair system of cooperation b.  well-ordered society or basic structure of society c.  the original position. What is the significance of the distinction between the reasonable and the rational? What are Rawls’s ‘Two principles of Justice’?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy On what basis has inequality been

yy How egalitarian is Rawls’s theory of

yy

yy

yy yy yy yy

criticized? What does it mean to suggest that people are ‘born’ equal? In what sense does equality of opportunity uphold inequality? Is equality of outcome a manifestation of envy? Does the notion of social justice imply equality? What is the needs theory of social justice and is it problematic?

yy yy yy

justice? What is the difference between rights and deserts? How did ideas of welfare link poverty and inequality? How does this differ from inclusion? What is the strongest justification for welfare? Do post-structuralist critiques of the welfare state undermine egalitarianism?

FURTHER READING Barry, B. Why Social Justice Matters (2005). A book that emphasizes the importance of social justice and examines both its economic and political feasibility in the light of recent attempts to subvert its meaning and application. Miller, D. Principles of Social Justice (2001). A  useful, thorough and innovative overview of social justice, which examines the implications of the competing principles of desert, need and equality.

Pierson, C., Castle, F. and Naumann, I. (eds) The Welfare State Reader (2014). A very useful and wide-ranging collection of readings that discuss contrasting approaches to welfare, recent challenges to the welfare state and emerging thinking on the subject. White, S. Equality (2006). A clear and accessible introduction to the concept of equality and to the debates, both historical and contemporary, that surround it, which explains how the demand for equality arises in different spheres.

CHAPTER 12

THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION I: RECOGNITION, GENDER AND CULTURE Introduction298 Recognition, Identity and Difference300 •• Exclusion and identity 300 •• What is recognition? 302 •• Recognition versus rights and redistribution: Critical perspectives 304 Gender307 •• Gender and exclusion 307 •• Re-reading the history of political thought 310 •• Feminism, recognition and gender 311 Culture314 •• Culture and exclusion 316 •• Multiculturalism and liberalism: Recognition as fair integration 318 •• Multiculturalism beyond liberalism320 Conclusion322

INTRODUCTION The problem of exclusion illustrates the dynamic nature of political thought. Debates can appear settled and established within a certain set of priorities. But suddenly, a new framing or voice can disrupt the status quo and re-describe the political landscape in new terms: exposing new problems while side-stepping established ones, and challenging existing traditions. The American political theorist William E. Connolly (1995) described this in terms of a pluralism (rather different from the pluralism of Chapter 8). The nature of our pluralistic societies in late liberal democracy means we encounter new claims to inequality, from groups that previously had no presence in the public debate or symbolic universe of the political community. As a result, there is deep need to understand, what Connolly 298

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calls, ‘the precarious political process by which a new claim to identity is drawn onto the register of justice from a nether region residing below it’. Such a project deeply questions the historical and ongoing ways in which we go about the business of political theory. It suggests that if our political theory is not attuned to new claims, we may participate in exclusion. Exclusion is a broad concept that captures any kind of sociopolitical relegation in society that pushes people outside the various rights, opportunities and resources available. In many ways, the discussions of, on the one hand, political democracy and citizenship and, on the other hand, class and economic inequality were about forms of political and economic exclusion. As we saw, liberal democratic government and the welfare state were two dominant normative and institutional responses. However, the exclusion we address here is slightly different (though of course related). What makes issues around gender and culture (as well as race and colonialism in Chapter 13) distinct is that, theoretically, they shift critical accounts of modern liberalism to a focus on groups, identities and legacies that had never been deeply addressed. This is often framed as a shift from class to identity politics where the concern is the cultural, social and political effects of the historical legacy of oppression. Such oppression can take different forms: � c itizenship – or exclusion from the political, civil and economic forms of inclusion

within Western liberal democratic states and political communities

� s ociocultural – or exclusion through systemic forms of devaluation and hostility

(e.g. sexism, racism, etc.)

� c anonical – or exclusion from the historical development and present

configuration of political thought. This is about the inclusion of authors (from excluded groups), concerns around these forms of exclusion, and the hegemony of certain norms (e.g. Western) over others.

This chapter begins examining a common framing for exclusion through the concepts of recognition and identity. With few competitors (perhaps ‘justice’ or ‘power’), these concepts have framed a large part of contemporary debates. The reason is that recognition or identity, and the idea of a ‘politics of recognition’ or ‘politics of identity’ as a distinctive activity, claims to explain a fundamental shift in the recent development of political thought and the politics of Western liberal democratic states. The four areas of exclusion examined in Chapters 12 and 13 are culture, gender, race and colonialism. This list is not exhaustive; it highlights some of the major focal points around exclusion that have attracted significant attention in political thought. In this, the purpose is not to offer comprehensive treatments of these important topics, but to use them as examples of the various dimensions that have motivated discussions of recognition, identity and exclusion in recent Western political thought.

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RECOGNITION, IDENTITY AND DIFFERENCE In many accounts of the development of contemporary political thinking in Western liberal democracies, there is broad agreement that something fundamental starts to change around the 1970s. The common narrative is of a transition (or expansion) from collectivist (and universalist) politics oriented around class to ‘particularist’ politics oriented around identity and culture. This transformed the way groups both organize and act politically, and their claims for justice. Broadly, while social movements and political groups previously struggled to be included within the dominant social consensus around citizenship (e.g. by arguing for broader citizenship and the inclusion of previously excluded groups), this shift is defined by claims to have the distinctiveness of groups integrated into political life, community and the state. These changes are often related to concepts of identity and recognition, which entered the discourses of political theory and public culture at this time. Together, they transform our understanding of how exclusion occurs and how it can be addressed. The normative ideal of recognition becomes central to this new type of politics. But recognition can mean different things and this concept, offered often as a master concept to replace justice and power, has been severely criticized by both liberals focused on rights, and egalitarians focused on redistribution. Nonetheless, it is key to understanding the dimensions of exclusion discussed in this chapter and the next.

Exclusion and identity The purported cause of this shift in politics (from universalistic class to particularistic identity) is a change in social divisions. A ‘social division’ is a split or divide in society that both reflects the diversity of social positions within it and some sort of inequality or exclusion in social, economic or political life. Highlighting social divisions in a political theory or discourse casts these groups (be they economic, racial, religious, cultural or sexual) as political actors with explanatory and normative significance. In this way, the idea of social division politicizes social groups. Between the eighteenth and midtwentieth centuries, economic inequality and class were the main social divisions of concern in Western political thought. Class highlights socio-economic divides, based on an unequal distribution of wealth, income or social status. A ‘social class’ is a group of people who share a similar economic and social position who are thus united by a common interest. Because of the strong relationship between economics and resulting social power, theories of class (e.g. Marxism) have tended to be materialist; in explaining social division they give explanatory significance to material economic organization. In contrast, the new social divisions of recent decades have not been class-focused. Rather, they have circled around a variety of other social divisions we have discussed earlier in the book, including race, culture, gender and colonized peoples (amongst others beyond our present scope). While each is discussed below, the present point is that these social divisions have often been construed as matters of identity, rather than class. This does not suggest that these excluded groups do not experience material or classbased forms of exclusion. Rather, the issue is that the intellectual and political discourse surrounding these social divisions has tended to overwhelmingly frame them in a way that gives explanatory and normative primacy to the categories of race, culture, gender and colonialism themselves, rather than seeing these as issues stemming from class.

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Identity, in a general sense, refers to a relatively stable and enduring sense of selfhood. As Bhikhu Parekh (2008) defines it, ‘the identity of a thing consists in those constitutive features that define it as this thing or this kind of thing rather than some other, and distinguish it from others’. The key word here is constitutive: the elements of a thing that form its identity are those, without which it would be fundamentally different. This already presents a deep difficulty around identifying and justifying which features meet this bill. However, this difficulty is compounded when discussing the identity of a people or group because people are ‘self-conscious and self-determining agents, they are able to reflect on who they are and decide what they wish to make of themselves’. People and groups actively interpret, present and contest their identities and others in ways that make identity a matter of interpretation rather than empirical description. Parekh argues that this matter is further complicated by the fact that any individual’s identity is three-dimensional – personal, social and human. Emphasizing personal identity treats people as individuals. This implies that each person is separate and unique. As discussed in Chapter 3, while individualism is defined by a deep focus on the ‘inner’ qualities of a person, it is a universalist theory in that all human beings are taken to share the same status and are entitled to the same rights. Emphasizing human identity treats people as members of a distinct species, drawing attention to the qualities that all humans exemplify. The notion that our identity is rooted in a common humanity suggests that the characteristics that human beings share are more significant than any individual or social differences. This is a key assumption of both socialism and liberal cosmopolitanism (see p. 235), which are universalist in character. Finally, emphasizing social identity suggests that people are shaped by the attributes of the ethnic, religious, cultural, sexual and other groups to which they belong. In the collectivist version of such thinking, identity arises from social experience and a process of conditioning, allowing us to treat social groups as political actors. Theories and political movements that primarily frame exclusion and political actors in terms of social identities conceive of politics and inclusion in different ways. Specifically, the distinctiveness (i.e. identity) of any group affected by these social divisions becomes deeply important in a way it was not previously for class groups. It is not that class or economic groups do not have identities (e.g. working-class culture) but that their identities are not the justification for removing their social division. It is usually on the basis that all classes are humans that Marx and others argue for the eradication of classes. The category of class highlights economic inequality in light of universal human identity. In contrast, the category of identity highlights cultural-political inequality along different dimensions in light of particular identities. It argues that a group is subject to an unjust exclusion that can be rectified through giving value to their identity. The difference between class and identity is thus the difference between universalism and particularism, or, as Iris Marion Young (1989) glosses this, the difference between a ‘politics of universalism’ and a ‘politics of difference’. This means that the wrongs suffered through identity-based social divisions are distinctive. In the context of class, exclusion constitutes a form of unequal power and wealth that means some people fall short of the standard of wealth and collective control others enjoy. That is, they are not all treated equally. In contrast, the exclusion of identities concerns the harm, not of economic inequality (though that can be a contributing factor) but of the exclusion of their identity as an object of value. These harms generally either take the form

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of being unrecognized (not even being understood as a category of relevance), like when a ‘race-blind’ justice system claims to treat all people equally ignoring the embedded racism within its system, or inferiorized (having a demeaning image), such as when a political culture is built on a devaluation of a groups’ culture or history. As James Tully (2008) notes, ‘The injustice and unfreedom distinctive of identity politics occur therefore when subjects … identities are mis-recognised or not recognised at all in the prevailing relations of mutual recognition. Instead, an alien identity is imposed upon them through processes of subjection, either assimilating them to the dominant identity or constructing them as marginal and expendable others – “lower”, “less developed”, “inferior race”, and so on.’ In this way, identity-focused theories and politics highlight a new set of political actors, harms and demands. Whereas individualism encouraged us to see the individual as the primary political actor and unit of value, collectivism encouraged us to put humanity itself in those roles. Both focused on universal categories and thus offered modes of politics appropriate (liberal citizenship and international socialism or cosmopolitanism respectively). In contrast, this new thinking linked the personal to the social, in seeing individuals as ‘embedded’ in a cultural or social context. Identity thus acknowledges that self-perception is shaped by a web of social and other relationships that distinguish them from other people. Identity therefore implies difference, an awareness of different others sharpens our sense of identity. This has revised our understanding of citizenship and political community, linking it to ideas such as recognition, as Tully did above.

What is recognition? The concept of recognition is the central normative concept for identity politics in contemporary political thought. As previously noted, the concept has come to deep current prominence. This is, at least in part, due to the expansive nature of the idea. Recognition purports to identify a shift in political behaviour organized around a distinctive set of normative, political demands groups are making to both the state and other groups within the political community. It is both an empirical claim about a shift in politics and a normative claim about what justice requires currently. This dual focus has made the idea of recognition quite large. Rather than focusing on specific groups or problem-situations, theories of recognition tend to approach it as an overall theory of harm and resolution meant to capture all aspects of contemporary social oppression and opposition. It is a general critical theory of oppression and reconciliation that speaks to the harms or exclusion peoples can experience as a result of their identities. This makes it both uniquely influential and very difficult. The major theories of recognition in contemporary Western political theory stem from the work of Charles Taylor, Nancy Fraser and Axel Honneth. We focus on Taylor’s ‘The Politics of Recognition’ (1994), as it provides the original and most general framing. There are, at least, three key claims Taylor makes in this essay: (1) a descriptive claim about current recognition politics as he sees it, (2) a normative criticism of ‘procedural liberalism’s’ ability to recognize groups and (3) his intermediate position that combines liberalism with a recognition of particularity and a predisposition to approach groups assuming the value of their identities. Taylor famously begins his essay by arguing that there has been a proliferation of political movements in recent decades that organized their politics around demands

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for recognition. This is the politics of ‘minority or subaltern groups’ who claim they are entitled to recognition they do not receive. Taylor’s account of recognition depends on a series of claims about identity and the unique harms it can suffer. This is his ‘social thesis’ that identity is intersubjective. It is a result of processes of social interaction and interpretation that flow between individuals and groups. Our identities are not solely the product of the individual asserting an identity. Rather, ‘we define our identity always in dialogue with, sometimes in struggle against, the things our significant others want to see in us’ (Taylor 1994). This means that our identity is partly shaped by recognition (from others) or its absence. As a result, the absence of recognition (being ignored) or mis-recognition (being understood in ways that do not match your understanding and/ or are denigrating) constitute serious harms from one person or group to another: ‘A person or a group of people can suffer real damage, real distortion, if the people or society around them mirror back to them a confining or demeaning or contemptible picture of themselves.’ Taylor does not claim this need for recognition is human nature. Rather, it is a result of modern individualism which has so glorified the individual, while breaking down previous social hierarchies, that one of its principle ideals is authenticity: being true to one’s deep inner self. The result is a fundamental tension in modern culture. On the one hand, there is the ‘politics of universalism and equal dignity’, ‘based on the idea that all humans are equally worthy of respect’ and which has led to a universalist politics of rights concerned with shared citizenship (see Chapter 7). On the other hand, it has also created a ‘politics of difference’, focused on ‘the potential for forming and defining one’s own identity, as an individual, and also as a culture’. The problem, for Taylor, is that currently states are much more oriented to the former universalist project, rather than the latter particularist one. As such, he criticizes the ‘procedural’ liberalism that dominates political theory, and institutionalized models of citizenship within Western, liberal democratic states. Procedural liberalism is usually thought to invest legitimacy in neutral rules and procedures that do not have any substantive position on the goals, aims or cultures of any group. It is the highest ideal of the neutral, liberal constitutional state. For Taylor though, it fails to provide recognition to distinct groups. As he summarizes, the politics of equal respect, as enshrined in a liberalism of rights, is inhospitable to difference, because (a) it insists on uniform application of the rules defining these rights, without exception, and (b) it is suspicious of collective goals. I call it inhospitable to difference because it can’t accommodate what the members of distinct societies really aspire to, which is survival. His main examples are distinct cultural communities such as the French-speaking Quebecois in Canada (his home province). As linguistic minorities in a larger Englishspeaking dominated Canada, the Quebecois aspire to, and need recognition for, the real goal of their community: the continued existence of a French-speaking Quebec. However, a liberalism of neutral rules cannot recognize such a ‘collective goal’, and the way it will require differentiated and non-uniform forms of citizenship for the Quebecois (e.g. the ability to impose tough language laws that limit personal freedom). The problem is that when uniform images of citizenship reign and no recognition of groups is permitted, liberal societies assume the superiority of their values over minorities’ and tend to

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reflect back demeaning images of those groups to their members in the form of non- or mis-recognition. The final parts of Taylor’s essay begin articulating his own normative conception of recognition. He rejects claims that we must equally value all cultures and identities. Instead, he argues that dominant and minority communities must engage actively in intercultural dialogue. This entails presuming the value of other cultures, and engaging in a robust interpretive exercise of mutually discussing their respective identities and cultures. This would allow a ‘fusion of horizons’ and the creation of ‘a regime of reciprocal recognition among equals’. In this way, recognition will involve the removal of mis- and non-recognition, and the empowerment of certain identities to maintain their cultures and communal integrity. In all this, it amounts to a process of politico-cultural self-assertion, as subordination is challenged by reshaping identity to give the group concerned a sense of usually publicly proclaimed pride and self-respect, for example, ‘black is beautiful’, ‘gay pride’ and so on. Embracing and proclaiming a positive social identity thus serves as an act of defiance or liberation, freeing people from others’ power to determine their identity. Moreover, it is an assertion of group solidarity, in that it encourages people to identify with those who share the same identity.

Recognition versus rights and redistribution: Critical perspectives While the impact of Taylor’s recognition theory cannot be overestimated, it has also been deeply controversial. In fact, debates around recognition have uniquely drawn on a variety of traditions, approaches and perspectives in contemporary political thought including liberals, communitarians, Marxists, critical theorists, post-structuralists and pragmatists (amongst others). This critical literature is so very large that it cannot be treated comprehensively here. Instead, it is helpful to understand recognition by contrast to two competitor concepts consistently deployed in criticisms of it: rights and redistribution. This will highlight both how recognition is often criticized and how it has been reconstructed in various ways. As we saw in Taylor’s original essay, the relation between recognition and liberalism is central to the debate. The notion of the politics of rights derives largely from liberalism, although it has also been embraced by republican thinkers (see p. 107). From a liberal perspective, disadvantage is largely understood as legal and political exclusion, some groups lacking the rights enjoyed by their fellow citizens. Liberals are committed to the principle of universal citizenship, where all members of society enjoy the same status and entitlements. In this sense, liberalism is ‘difference-blind’: it views difference as ‘the problem’ (because it leads to discriminatory or unfair treatment) and proposes that difference be banished from politics in the name of equality. Liberals therefore believe that social advancement can be brought about primarily through formal equality, guaranteeing that people enjoy the same status in legal and political rights, and equality of opportunity, ensuring an equal starting point to those from excluded groups. First-wave feminism (see p. 308) had a distinctive liberal character, in that its campaign for female emancipation focused on the struggle for votes for women and equal access to education, careers and public life in general. Due to this emphasis, many liberals have been critical of the idea of recognition. Brian Barry, probably most famously, argued that the concept of recognition (and identity politics

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generally) misunderstood the importance of identity vis-à-vis liberal rights. In Culture and Equality (2002) Barry argues that liberal rights aid individuals should they choose to transform and develop their identities in new ways undetermined by their social groups. The existence of an identity, for Barry, does not provide political reasons for treating that group in a way different to all others. The logic of the argument for recognition seems to suggest, on this view, that identities and groups by virtue of their existence are due forms of particular recognition. Instead, Barry’s egalitarianism argues that a liberal polity is dedicated to the moral equality of individuals in a way that means no preference can be shown amongst them. From a more cosmopolitan angle, Michael Waldron (1953–) has similarly argued that liberalism’s commitment to understanding individuals as defined by their human, rather than social, identity ignores that the increasingly global and hybridized nature of identity means that any official recognition of some identity is reifying something already in flux and changing. In this way, some liberal theorists have argued that recognition is incompatible with liberal ideals. However, as we will see in the discussion of culture below, other liberals have used a liberal focus on rights to argue for a recognition of cultural difference through theories of multiculturalism (see p. 314). The concept of redistribution has also been a prominent critical framework for recognition. While historically redistribution is rooted in socialist thought, particularly social democrats (see p. 194) and Marxists (see p. 249), the egalitarian liberal thought in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries were also fundamentally concerned with it. The idea arose out of the belief that universal citizenship and formal equality are not sufficient to tackle the problems of marginalization. People are held back not merely by legal and political exclusion, but by social disadvantage – poverty, unemployment, poor housing, lack of education, etc. To paraphrase Richard Tawney (see p. 195), the right to eat at The Ritz is meaningless if you cannot afford it. From the social democratic perspective, the key idea is the principle of equal opportunities, the belief that a ‘level playing field’ allows people to rise or fall in society strictly based on personal ability or work. This is a shift from legal to social egalitarianism, the latter involving a system of redistributing wealth to alleviate poverty and overcome disadvantage. In such an approach, difference is acknowledged as it highlights the existence of social injustice. Nevertheless, this amounts to a provisional acknowledgement of difference, in that different groups are identified only to expose unfair structures, which can then be removed. In the Marxist version of this argument, this can only be achieved through the abolition of the class system and the establishment of a classless society. In contemporary political theory, the redistributive critique of recognition thus spans liberal and critical or Marxist traditions. For example, Barry (2002) also criticizes recognition as diverting ‘political effort away from universalistic goals’ and destroying ‘the conditions for putting together a coalition in favour of across-the-board equalization of opportunities and resources’. Similarly, Rorty (2000) argues that recognition threatens to replace redistribution as the central emancipatory framework for progressive politics. In his, pragmatist liberal theory, these two priorities are incompatible. He argues, ‘The difference between the old and the new demands is the difference between asking not to be singled out for ill-treatment and asking for attention to, and respect for, one’s distinctive features.’ This highlights what has broadly come to be known as the recognitionredistribution debate associated with Nancy Fraser and Axel Honneth, who both offer critical theories of recognition that attempt to integrate redistributive theory within a

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theory of recognition that accepts the political importance of identity. For example, Fraser contrasts the identity model of recognition, which she associated with Taylor, with her own status model. The latter is concerned not so much with how an identity is recognized but the social and economic status of disadvantaged groups. Fraser (2001) clarifies, ‘My proposal is to treat recognition as a question of social status. From this perspective – I shall call it the status model – what requires recognition is not group-specific identity but rather the status of group members as full partners in social interaction. Mis-recognition, accordingly, does not mean the depreciation and deformation of group identity. Rather, it means social subordination in the sense of being prevented from participating as a peer in social life.’ For Fraser, most situations of oppression involve both cultural and economic factors, disrespect and exploitation. That is discriminatory ideas and economic exclusion usually come together. As a result, a critical theory must see them as connected. She thus offers her own normative standard, the ‘parity principle’. Participatory parity means being treated and participating as a full peer in social life in both cultural and economic senses. Finally, beyond rights and recognition, there is a body of criticisms commonly made of recognition. Several deserve attention. First, like toleration (see Chapter 9), recognition may be a hierarchical concept. States and majorities may be obliged to give it, but the theory suggests they (1) hand it down at their discretion and (2) require no similar recognition from subordinate groups. In his reconstruction of recognition, James Tully (2008) argues that recognition must be understood as a dialogical (a product of negotiation between oppressed groups and the state) rather than monological (handed down by the state) norm. And that this involves increasing access to democratic mechanisms to ‘contest the current norms of recognition’. The hierarchical nature of recognition has particularly concerned theorists of indigenous and postcolonial politics (see Chapter 13). Second, recognition, as Waldron suggests, can unnecessarily fix the identities of the groups it recognizes, inhibiting their natural cultural development. Amartya Sen (2006) developed a particularly sustained attack on what he called the ‘solitaristic’ theory, which suggests that human identities are formed by membership of a single social group. This, Sen argued, not only leads to the ‘miniaturization’ of humanity but also makes conflict more likely, as people identify only with their own monoculture and fail to recognize the rights and integrity of people from other cultural groups. Finally, as recognition arguments can be focused around many different types of social identity – gender, sexuality, culture, ethnicity, religion and so on – recognition may have contradictory implications. Recognizing one identity may disempower and further the oppression of another. This has been particularly evident in the tension between feminism and multiculturalism (discussed below). The politics of recognition developed out of the belief that group marginalization has deep origins. Influencing debates across issues of culture, gender, race and colonialism (among others), group marginalization is understood not merely as a legal, political or social phenomenon but as a cultural one. It operates through values developed by dominant groups that structure how marginalized groups see themselves and are seen by others. These inculcate a sense of inferiority, even shame, helping to entrench marginalized groups in their subordination. From this perspective, egalitarianism has limited value, in both its legal and social forms, and it may even be part of the problem if it conceals deeper structures of cultural marginalization. In this light, those who embrace recognition for social and political theorizing are inclined to emphasize difference rather than equality.

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This manifests as an emphasis on a positive politics of endorsement, even celebration, of identities, allowing marginalized groups to assert themselves by claiming an authentic sense of selfhood.

GENDER Since the 1970s, the concept of gender has become a central idea in contemporary political theory. It was a product largely of feminist thinkers and their attempt to disentangle the social domination of women from arguments naturalizing it. Gender arose as a concept opposed to sex in the sex-gender distinction. Further, its purpose was fundamentally emancipatory: to reveal the constructed and oppressive nature of the social norms, rules and institutions governing women in Western social, economic, political and intellectual life. In this sense, the idea of gender (and the sex/gender distinction) is foundational to considerations of the situation of women and other sexual minorities. It defines the dimension of their self and the social groups that are excluded in some way in contemporary politics, and has been key to assessing women in the history of political thought. It further offers an identification of the particularity (i.e. their gender identity) that needs to be recognized to treat this group justly. However, while the distinction between sex and gender is foundational, it has also been criticized in ways that challenge contemporary feminism. Much of this has to do with the continuing debates between liberal, critical-radical and post-structuralist traditions in feminist thought, as well as related issues around other sexual minorities.

Gender and exclusion The concept of gender attempts to identify forms of exclusion that stem from the social divisions that exist around ideas of sex, gender identity and sexual preference. That is, it facilitates theorizing on how the division of people into different gender groups has resulted in various forms of exclusion in social, economic and political life. As such, the sex/gender distinction is foundational to theories of gender. Broadly, in the distinction, sex is taken to signify human biological features related to the differences between men and women (e.g. chromosomes, hormone levels, sex organs, sexual maturity processes and other physical differences). In contrast, gender signifies the social-cultural practices of differentiation between different identities (social roles, behaviours and dress, modes of interacting and identity). Sex and gender are thus ways of differentiating men and women based on their respective standards. For feminists the point of distinguishing between the two was to counter the idea that social differences (e.g. in roles in the family and social life) flowed from the natural differences of sex. The sex/gender distinction was thus a theoretical means of undermining the oppression of women and seeking their recognition. The history of political thinking on sex and gender in the modern Western tradition is surprisingly long. However, much of this theorizing lacked an explicit concept of gender and was focused more on the exclusion of women. The concept of gender, in fact, does not arise in political thought until the 1970s. However, the sense that there are cultural and identity-related aspects to sex is a long-standing aspect of feminism in political thought. That said, the exclusion of women in political life has been matched by an exclusion from the tradition of Western political thought. This is true in at least two senses. First, female

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thinkers who have contributed to the tradition have tended to be ignored, and thereby silenced, from later discussion. As Susan Okin (2004) notes, this is the legacy: Even when issues of sex and gender preoccupied the great philosophers, as they did Rousseau, they tended until the 1970s to be virtually ignored by subsequent interpreters and teachers of the ‘tradition.’ Within the tradition (if that word is interpreted liberally), while rare feminists … had challenged it, the norm was to assume, or to argue, that the division of labor between the sexes and the sexual hierarchy it was presumed to justify were natural, not political. The naturalness (and justness) of the division between men and women has thus characterized most of modern Western political thinking. Second, the history of Western political thought has tended to assume or explicitly argue that women are justly excluded from political life. In Women in Western Political Thought (1979), Okin illustrated the central role of these arguments in thinkers such as Plato, Aristotle and Rousseau. Similarly, Carole Pateman, in The Sexual Contract (1988), offered a re-reading of the social contract tradition (see p. 47) in modern political thought that attempted to illustrate how liberal understandings of contract justified the systematic exclusion of women from social, economic and political life. Pateman argued that the social contract relied upon an implicit sexual contract between the state and adult men, which made women subordinate to individual men: ‘Women are not party to the original contract through which men transform their natural freedom into the security of civil freedom. Women are the subject of the contract. The (sexual) contract is the vehicle through which men transform their natural right over women into the security of civil patriarchal right.’ Pateman and Okin both attempt to illustrate one of the key arguments of contemporary feminist political thought, that modern citizenship is constitutively built on the exclusion of women and that including women would radically transform existing politics. The feminist project around recognizing gender thus rides the uncomfortable line of both attempting to include women in male-dominated politics while unsettling that structure in a way that genuinely makes women a part. As Okin (1979) asks, this is the question of ‘whether the existing tradition of political philosophy can sustain the inclusion of women in its subject matter, and if not, why not?’

TRADITION: Feminism Feminist political thought has been concerned with three key issues. First, it analyses the institutions, processes and practices through which women have been subordinated to men; second, it explores the most effective ways to challenge this subordination; and third, it applies these insights to political thought to both understand how political theory has historically been complicit in excluding women and to create a feminist practice of political theory. The ‘first wave’ of feminism was closely associated with the

women’s suffrage movement, which emerged in the 1840s and 1850s. Feminism’s ‘second wave’ arose during the 1960s and expressed the more radical demands of the growing Women’s Liberation Movement. The third wave, in turn, has been concerned both with inequalities within feminism itself and between women (typified by intersectional questions on the relation between feminism and race and gender), and with the persistent oppression of women in the twenty-first century. The result has been that

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since the early 1970s, feminism has diversified into several different theoretical bodies and is a distinctive tradition of political theory. During the late twentieth century, feminist political theory has traditionally been divided into liberal, socialist and radical sub-traditions. Liberal feminism, which dominated early forms of feminism and continues in contemporary debates, is shaped by a commitment to individualism and equal rights. This ‘equal-rights feminism’ is concerned to enhance the legal and political status of women, and to improve their educational and career prospects. Socialist feminism, drawing on Marxism (see p. 249), highlights links between female subordination and capitalism, drawing attention to the economic significance of women’s confinement to domestic life. Radical feminism portrays gender divisions as the most fundamental and politically significant cleavages in society, and calls for the radical restructuring of personal, domestic and family life. In this view, all societies, contemporary and historical, are characterized by patriarchy, or institutionalized male power. However, the threefold division has become problematic as feminist thought has become more diverse. This is reflected in the growth of Black feminism, psychoanalytical feminism, ecofeminism and post-structuralist feminism. Similarly, the rise of broader debates in gender and queer theory in the social sciences, though not yet having a significant presence in political theory, has complicated the theoretical terrain, especially as disagreements between some feminists and gender theorists have brought theory out into the public. The major strength of feminist political theory is that it provides a perspective on political understanding that is uncontaminated by the gender biases that pervade conventional thought. Feminism has not merely reinterpreted the contribution of major theorists and shed new light on established concepts such as power, domination and equality, but also introduced into political theory ideas such as connection, voice and difference. Feminism has nevertheless been criticized claiming its internal divisions

are now so sharp that feminist theory has lost all coherence and unity. Post-structuralist feminists, for example, even question whether ‘woman’ is a meaningful category, which is a concern to other feminists who still see the oppression of women as historically and culturally distinctive. Key figures Betty Friedan (1921–2006)  A US political activist, Friedan is sometimes seen as the ‘mother’ of women’s liberation. In The Feminine Mystique (1963) (often credited with having stimulated the second-wave feminism) she attacked the cultural myths that sustained domesticity, highlighting the frustration that afflicted suburban American women confined to the home. In The Second Stage (1983), Friedan modified her liberal feminism by warning that the quest for ‘personhood’ should not encourage women to deny children, home and the family. Juliet Mitchell (born 1940)  A New Zealandborn British writer, Mitchell is a key theorist of socialist feminism. Adopting a modern Marxist perspective that allows for the interplay of economic, social, political and cultural forces in society, she warned that, since patriarchy has cultural and ideological roots, it cannot be overthrown simply by replacing capitalism with socialism. Her major works included Women’s Estate (1971), Psychoanalysis and Feminism ([1974] 2000) and Feminine Sexuality (1985). Catharine A. MacKinnon (born 1946)  A US academic, lawyer and activist, MacKinnon has made a major contribution to feminist legal and political theory. In her view, law is one of the principal devices through which women’s subordination is maintained. She has also addressed pornography, rape, domestic violence and international human rights. MacKinnon’s major works include Towards a Feminist Theory of the State (1989), Only Words (1993) and Are Women Human? (2006). See also Mary Wollstonecraft (p. 275) and Simone de Beauvoir (p. 314)

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Re-reading the history of political thought In this way, feminist scholars have attempted to both revitalize female voices in political thought and challenge the fundamental exclusion of women from politics. One way to do this has been highlighting an alternative, critical feminist trajectory in political thought. Mary Wollstonecraft (1759–97) (see p. 275) looms large in this narrative for several reasons. Prominent amongst these is that Wollstonecraft, even more than other female writers, was largely ignored until feminist political thought ‘rediscovered’ her in the 1960s, dubbing here the first English feminist thinker. Her unique brand of republican feminism also offers a critical lens on liberal theory, which would become one of the main critical objects of feminist theory generally. Wollstonecraft roots her feminism in liberal individuality and republican active citizenship. She argues that women require the same freedoms to develop if the goals of liberal and republican societies can hope to be achieved. She famously criticized Edmund Burke’s rejection of the French revolution in her A Vindication of the Rights of Men (1790), and Rousseau’s relegation of women to the non-citizenship in A Vindication of the Rights of Woman ([1792] 1967). The latter is especially important as she responds to his claims that a strong republic requires cloistered women and uses his own socialhistorical method for thinking of inequality to highlight gender and exclusion. An undeniably modern thinker she roots women’s entitlement to education and citizenship in their reason. Responding to the common claim that women lack the mental abilities for public life, she retorts ‘if women are to be excluded, without having a voice, from a participation of the natural rights of mankind, prove first, to ward off the charge of injustice and inconsistency, that they want reason’ ([1792] 1967). Reason, she argues, requires cultivation through education. If the women of her society lacked reasoning and were too concerned with appearance and romantic love, as she claimed, it was because they were taught to be so. For Wollstonecraft, denying women a political existence was the principle cause of this limitation. Women ‘denied all political privileges, and not allowed, as married women, excepting in criminal cases, a civil existence, have their attention naturally drawn from the interest of the whole community to that of the minute parts’. In this way, Wollstonecraft challenges the idea that gender differences flow from natural sexual differences. And she argues that this justifies a political role for women. She argues that the nature of modern political societies requires free women. Principally, this is about a change in morals. Women for her have been cloistered in the private sphere through moral structures such as ‘propriety’ that seclude women in private life and cordon them off from political virtues. ‘And how can woman be expected to co-operate unless she know why she ought to be virtuous? Unless freedom strengthen her reason till she comprehend her duty, and see in what manner it is connected with her real good?’ Social conditions, on this account, dramatically affect behaviour. John Stuart Mill’s The Subjection of Women ([1869] 2006) has also been fundamental for the feminist re-reading of Western political thought. Not only is it a major argument for women’s equality, but it was largely ignored until the second half of the twentieth century. However, Mill’s utilitarian case for the social benefit of gender equality is not the focus here but his understanding of the unique nature of gender oppression. For Mill, there is psychology of male power over women, and his claims forecast later critical feminist thought. He argues that the oppression of women is unique among forms of social oppression in its totality:

The Problem of Exclusion I: Recognition, Gender and Culture

They [women] are so far in a position different from all other subject classes, that their masters require something more from them than actual service. Men do not want solely the obedience of women, they want their sentiments. All men … desire to have, in the woman most nearly connected with them, not a forced slave, but a willing one … They [men] have therefore put everything in place to enslave their [women’s] minds. Mill suggests that a deeply engrained and pervasive form of oppression structures relations between men and women. However, it is only a century later, in the work of Simone de Beauvoir (1908–86), that we see a deeper analysis. Her The Second Sex ([1949] 2010) is often credited with introducing the sex/gender distinction into political thought (though she does not do so explicitly), through a critical analysis of the myth of femininity and its constitutive devaluation against masculinity. For her, femininity is a real but constructed social structure. Women do exist for de Beauvoir, as there is a common experience of being a woman, but there is no essence to women: ‘To decline to accept such notions as the eternal feminine, the black soul, the Jewish character, is not to deny that Jews, Negroes, women exist today - this denial does not represent a liberation for those concerned, but rather a flight from reality.’ Women have no essential nature that makes them fundamentally different to men. And perhaps more importantly, the current social idea of women, femininity, is deeply devalued in relation to masculinity: The terms masculine and feminine are used symmetrically only as a matter of form, as on legal papers. In actuality, the relation of the two sexes is not quite like that of two electrical poles, for man represents both the positive and the neutral, as is indicated by the common use of man to designate human beings in general; whereas woman represents only the negative, defined by limiting criteria, without reciprocity. For de Beauvoir, in Western intellectual and public culture masculinity represents the norm, and femininity its negative image. Thus, the generally devalued side of most distinctions are associated with women: masculine reason vs feminine irrationality, active men vs passive women, strong man vs weak woman, logical masculinity vs emotional femininity, etc. For this reason, she argues, women are the Other: the excluded non-entity that represents everything outside what masculine political culture takes to be valuable. The feminism of the 1970s onwards drew on these thinkers, and the many others beyond our discussion here (see p. 308) to critically interrogate the oppression of women throughout modern and Western political thought. Importantly, with claims such as those of Wollstonecraft, Mill and de Beauvoir, there emerged the idea that gender itself, the socially constructed identity of women, might be part of the male domination of women.

Feminism, recognition and gender The concept of gender arose initially to criticize the oppression of women. By separating (social) gender out from (biological) sex, feminist theorists could denaturalize women’s inequality, criticize its social origins, and begin transforming social relations. As a result, the concept of gender has been, unsurprisingly, central to contemporary feminist political thought. This has also pushed it increasingly toward issues of identity and recognition,

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so much so that second- and third-wave feminisms have often been one of the most prominent forms of identity politics. While this raises many tensions within feminist thought, we will focus on two to illustrate some of the difficult debates around recognition and gender: the equality vs difference debate, and the debate over the category of woman. The equality vs difference debate concerns a divide within feminism over how to address the inequality of women in Western societies: is the liberation of women going to occur through a quest for equality or by the recognition of difference? Feminism has traditionally been closely associated with, some would say defined by, the quest for gender equality. While elements of this approach can be found in feminist approaches across traditions, such as socialist feminism’s connection of gender equality to broader socio-economic equality and some radical feminist ideas of equal personal power, it is the liberal feminist focus on equal rights that is paradigmatic of gender equality. Liberal feminists such as Martha Nussbaum and Linda McClain have argued that while liberalism requires revisions, as a normative framework it is capable of recognizing the importance of gender and offering key resources for overcoming the oppression of women. For example, Susan Okin, one of the most influential contemporary liberal feminists, distinguishes between feminist critiques of liberalism in its entirety, which she rejects, and feminist critiques of particular commitments within liberalism (e.g. the public-private divide), which she endorses. Taking Rawls as an example, she agrees that his method of the original position (see Chapter 11) in A Theory of Justice (1971) ignores gender. And he further problematically assumes that the subjects included in this mechanism would be ‘heads of households’, thereby suggesting they are male leaders. But Okin argues that his method can be revised and applied within family structures in a way that does not privatize the subjection of women, and this means that a ‘consistent and fully developed liberalism, quite radically revised so as to include women, has great potential for feminism’ (2004). In equality feminism, ‘difference’ implies oppression or subordination; it highlights legal, political, social or other advantages that men enjoy but which are denied women. Women, in that sense, must be liberated from difference. Such thinking is based on the belief that human nature is basically androgynous. All human beings, regardless of their sex, possess moral and intellectual properties. Women and men should therefore not be judged by their sex, but as ‘persons’. The difference strategy, in contrast, is associated with those variously and imperfectly called ‘cultural’ or ‘relational’ feminists. These groups are theoretically varied in background. What unites them tends to be (1) an alternative conception of human nature focused more on social and communitarian emphases, and (2) a critique of liberalism as inherently masculine. The former is often associated with the work of Carol Gilligan. In In a Different Voice (1982), Gilligan famously argued that women exhibited a unique form of moral reasoning that deeply contrasted with the rationalist, logical, abstract reasoning of male liberalism. Female moral thought is built on an ‘ethics of care’ that is contextual, relational and highly values community. Feminist political thinkers such as Iris Marion Young and Seyla Benhabib argued that the liberal ideals of impartiality and universality as guiding principles of the state attempt to exclude feminine difference and otherness by valuing reasoning and devaluing other sources of normative reasoning (e.g. emotion). This led to what has been called ‘standpoint feminism’, in which the world is understood from the unique perspective – or ‘standpoint’ – of women’s experience (Tickner 1992). Standpoint feminists hold that women’s experience at the margins of political life have

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given them a distinctive perspective on social issues. Although not necessarily superior to men’s, women’s views constitute valid and worthwhile insights into the complex world of politics. In this way, difference feminists tend to argue that women and men are distinct, but that women’s valuable difference has been ignored or vilified. Difference feminists tend to theorize the nature of this difference in different ways (i.e. as having biological, politicocultural or psychosexual origins). However, regardless of their origins, a belief in deeprooted and possibly ineradicable differences between women and men suggests that the traditional goal of gender equality is misguided. Equality implies that women are ‘male-identified’, in that they define their goals in terms of what men are or what men have. The demand for equality therefore embodies the desire to be ‘like men’, adopting the competitive behaviour that characterizes male society. Difference feminists, by contrast, argue that women should be ‘female-identified’: women should seek liberation not as supposedly sexless ‘persons’ but as fulfilled women, celebrating female values and characteristics. In that sense, women gain liberation through difference. This emphasis on difference rather than equality has deepened since the emergence of ‘third-wave’ feminism in the 1990s. Whereas earlier feminism had tended to emphasize women as different from men, these feminisms are concerned with (1) differences between women and (2) unsettling the male-female binary itself. The former concerns the overemphasis within feminism on the experience of middle-class white women in developed societies. This has allowed the voices of low-income women, women in the developing world and ‘women of colour’ to be heard more effectively. Black feminism (e.g. the work of bell hooks) has been particularly significant in this respect, challenging the tendency within feminism to ignore racial differences and to suggest that women endure a common oppression. Especially in American work on race and gender, Black feminism portrays sexism and racism as linked systems of oppression, and highlights the complex range of gender, racial and economic disadvantages that confront women of colour. The consequences for the category of woman itself has been more controversial. Informed by post-structuralist accounts of identity and language, contemporary feminists such as Judith Butler and Drucilla Cornell have theorized gender in a way that destabilizes the idea of woman as an emancipatory identity. Woman, as a category, no less than man participates in a gender hierarchy that excludes other lived possibilities of identity. On this argument, to emancipate women as women, participates in delegitimizing others. As Cornell (1992) notes, feminists must ‘value our difference as sexuate beings while, at the same time, breaking down and delegitimizing—and I have suggested this deconstruction engages in precisely this delegitimization—the imposed sexual choices of our current gender hierarchy’. Feminists critical of post-structuralism have argued that this ignores the real experiences of many oppressed women around the world and how their oppression is linked to their biology and the social roles of motherhood and care-giving. As a result, a substantial controversy has emerged between feminist and queer theory. Largely this has occurred in social and broader cultural theory outside debates in contemporary political theory, but it is likely to become a prominent topic soon. All of this demonstrates that ideas of recognition and identity have been central to the development and emergence of gender. Mainly housed within feminism, these debates have exposed the deep exclusion that can exist around gender in liberal democratic societies and the continuing challenges they pose.

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THINKER SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR (1906–86) A French philosopher and social critic, de Beauvoir came from a formerly wealthy Parisian family. At the age of twenty-one, she was the youngest person to ever sit and pass the agrégation in philosophy, a competitive national exam conducted annually in France. She quickly became one of the central figures of French intellectual life in the middle of the twentieth century. Her main theoretical contributions are in her existentialist analyses of gender inequality in Western society. She is often credited with re-opening the issue of gender politics and foreshadowed themes later developed in radical feminism. In The Second Sex (1949), she famously argued that ‘One is not born but becomes a woman’, implicitly raising the sex/gender distinction that would become key to social and political feminist theory from the 1960s onward. In that work she also highlighted, not only the constructed nature of gender but also its deep hierarchy. She argues that in Western ideas of gender, the masculine is represented as the positive or the norm, while the feminine is portrayed as ‘other’. Such ‘otherness’ fundamentally limits women’s freedom and prevents them from expressing their full humanity. De Beauvoir placed her faith in rationality and critical analysis as the means of exposing this process.

CULTURE The concept of culture has been central to debates about exclusion, identity and recognition politics. This is for at least two reasons. First, culture is often a unifying category for all the dimensions of exclusion addressed in this chapter (and others). For example, gender, race and postcolonial exclusion can all have cultural dimensions and the cultures of the groups involved will often be deeply relevant to the way they are excluded. Second, in the first instance the idea of multiculturalism as a fact and norm was often extended to all forms of recognition and identity politics in a similar way to the notion of a ‘politics of difference’. In this sense, multiculturalism is taken to capture all these forms of recognition politics. However, in this section we examine culture and multiculturalism in the narrower sense that those terms now have in public discourse and political theory. Together, they highlight the idea that the cultural differences of ethno-cultural minorities (usually because of immigration) present a challenge to the forms of citizenship and models of political community of contemporary liberal democracies. Recognizing these challenges requires multiculturalism, a normative framework that revises the rights and obligations of citizenship and the model of unity sustaining the identity of the polity.

TRADITION: Multiculturalism In contrast to most traditions in Western political thought, multiculturalism developed out of existing state practices and discourses. It emerged first as a political project in Canada, with Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s 1971 parliamentary statement on multiculturalism where he claimed the state must accept ‘the

contention of other cultural communities that they, too, are essential elements in Canada’. Quickly followed by similar policies in Australia (1973) and other states, it was not until the 1990s that multicultural political theory offered clear principles. In this way, the theory has been shaped by both state action and by the growing

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political assertiveness of established cultural groups in various parts of the world and the cultural diversity of many Western societies. Multiculturalism as a political theory reflects a positive endorsement of communal diversity, usually arising from racial, ethnic and linguistic differences, and its role in Western political communities. As such, multiculturalism is motivated more by a distinctive normative project (to value diversity) than a coherent political doctrine. One key source of multicultural thinking stems from the attempt to refashion liberal beliefs to account for the importance of communal belonging. In this view, individuals are culturally embedded creatures, who derive their understanding of the world and their framework of moral beliefs and personal identity from the culture in which they live. Distinctive cultures therefore deserve to be protected, particularly when they belong to minority or vulnerable groups. This leads to an emphasis on the politics of recognition and support for minority or multicultural rights, which, in the case of national minorities or ‘First Nations’, may extend to the right to selfdetermination. However, another trend within current multicultural theory is to move beyond the liberal normative framework, attempting to understand how broader democratic accounts of multiculturalism can met the continuing challenges of racial and ethnic minorities today. From this pluralist or ‘post-liberal’ perspective, liberalism ‘absolutizes’ values such as toleration and personal autonomy, and so provides an inadequate basis for diversity. A further strain within multicultural theory attempts to reconcile multiculturalism with cosmopolitanism (see p. 235), emphasizing hybridity and cultural mixing. Multiculturalism seeks to offer solutions to challenges of cultural diversity that cannot be addressed in any other way. Only enforced assimilation or the expulsion of ethnic or cultural minorities will re-establish monocultural nation states. Indeed, in some respects, multiculturalism is a reaction to globalization. However, multiculturalism is by no means universally accepted. Its critics argue that, since it regards values and practices as acceptable

so long as they generate a sense of group identity, non-liberal forms of multiculturalism may endorse oppressive practices, particularly ones that subordinate women. Moreover, multiculturalism’s model of group identity pays insufficient attention to diversity within cultural or religious groups and risks defining people based on group membership alone. The most common criticism of multiculturalism is nevertheless that it is the enemy of civic cohesion, precluding the shared values and common culture necessary for a stable political community. Key figures Charles Taylor (born 1931)  A Canadian political philosopher, Taylor has been primarily concerned with the construction of the self. His communitarian portrayal of persons as ‘embodied individuals’ led him to argue for the politics of recognition, based on the belief that mis-recognition from others is harm, and that liberalism requires revision to accommodate this politics. His key works include Sources of the Self (1992) and Multiculturalism and ‘the Politics of Recognition’ (1994). Bhikhu Parekh (born 1935)  A British political theorist, Parekh has advanced a pluralist theory of cultural diversity which highlights the limitations of liberal multiculturalism. His multiculturalism is based on rethinking political community in light of cultural diversity, and highlighting the role that intercultural dialogue can play in resolving cultural controversies. Parekh’s works include Rethinking Multiculturalism (2000; 2nd edition 2002) and A New Politics of Identity (2008). Will Kymlicka (born 1962)  A Canadian political theorist, Kymlicka has sought to reconcile liberalism with the ideas of community and cultural membership. He has advanced the idea of multicultural citizenship, based on the belief that cultures are valuable and distinct, and provide a context in which individuals are provided with meaning, identity and belonging. Kymlicka’s main works include Multicultural Citizenship (1995) and Multicultural Odysseys (2007). See also Isaiah Berlin (p. 169)

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Culture and exclusion Defining culture in political theory is notoriously difficult. While debates about multiculturalism often take for granted that culture and cultural groups are their focus, these issues tend to overlap and include discussions about religion, language, ethnicity, nationality and race amongst others. Part of this is an issue of context. Discussions of culture in political theory came out of the liberal-communitarian debates of the 1980s. While related, these focused more on issues of the community, the model of the self, and resulting views of citizenship in liberal theory. Communitarians (see p. 57) broadly argued that the value of the community was largely absent as a political ideal in the work of contemporary liberal thinkers. Instead, they offered social conceptions of the self, such as Taylor’s social thesis discussed earlier. While such discussions at times employed the concept of culture, it was not the central focal point of their understanding of community. It is only with multicultural theory that the category of culture has become centrally thematized in political theory. The amount of thought and criticism that literature has been subject to, especially around its ideas of culture, means many theorists have now offered a view of it. For example, Bhikhu Parekh argues that the focus on culture is what makes multiculturalism distinctive as a form of recognition politics. As he notes in Rethinking Multiculturalism (2002), ‘Multiculturalism is not about difference and identity per se but about those that are embedded in and sustained by culture; that is, a body of beliefs and practices in terms of which a group of people understand themselves and the world and organize their individual and collective lives.’ For Parekh, culture contains the beliefs and practices that sustain the identity of groups. What differentiates cultural from other sorts of identity groups is the comprehensiveness of cultural identification. Culture does not extend only to some areas of our identity but provides an encompassing framework of meaning for all our identity. It is for this reason that it fundamentally challenges our relations to other citizens and the state, and so is a part of the problem of political community (see Chapter 9). However, the dominant and most influential understanding of culture in political theory has come from liberal theory. Will Kymlicka (1962–), the most prominent multicultural theorist, offered a distinctive liberal multicultural theory of citizenship. For Kymlicka, cultures must be understood as contexts of choice: frameworks that structure the ways in which individuals make choices and given meaning to their lives. As he notes in Liberalism, Community, and Culture (1989), ‘We decide how to lead our lives by situating ourselves in these cultural narratives, by adopting roles that have struck us as worthwhile ones, as ones worth living.’ In this way, the cultural structure of a society determines the context of choice for an individual. As a liberal, Kymlicka values autonomy and self-respect for individuals and emphasizes the ability of individuals to make choices. Culture frames, limits and enables those choices by giving meaning and value to them. Human individuals could not decide what jobs to have, what family models to pursue, how to relate to friends and family or strangers at large without culture. In this sense, for Kymlicka, culture is indispensable to and necessary for human freedom in two ways. First, one’s culture is a necessary condition for personal autonomy as it provides the necessary options for personal choice. Second, it is key to personal identity. In Multicultural Citizenship (1995), he argues culture is an ‘anchor for their self-identification and the safety of effortless secure belonging’. All of this emphasizes the deep instrumental value of culture.

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However, minorities encounter a difficulty. Their cultural context of meaning is different from the national ‘societal’ culture of the dominant community. So their culture, as a context choice that enables how they participate in larger society, disadvantages their ability for just that participation. For Kymlicka, the national political culture of liberal democracies is far from neutral. National cultures are societal cultures in that they also provide members meaningful ways of life across many human activities. Further, these cultures are embedded in common political institutions and practices (e.g. education, media, the economy and various state institutions). In claiming this, he is criticizing liberal ideals of neutrality in relation to the state. The aim of liberal ideals ‘seems to be a “colour-blind” constitution – the removal of all legislation differentiating people in terms of their race or ethnicity’ (Kymlicka 1989). However, for Kymlicka, the argument for liberal neutrality ignores the privilege of the dominant culture, and how it is already embedded in the laws, practices and political ideals of the majority culture. Kymlicka’s work importantly clarifies that multiculturalism is not concerned with just any kind of cultures. It is focused on non-dominant cultures in contemporary liberal democratic states. This attention is premised on a criticism that existing forms of recognition through universal citizenship, ignoring difference and uniform rights are inadequate to the forms of exclusion that cultural minorities experience. The emphasis on the exclusion in multicultural theory has only increased in more recent thinkers. Tariq Modood (2013), for example, argues that multicultural theory must begin with the ‘fact of negative difference’: the existence of group differences that have created unequal relations of ‘alienness, inferiorization, stigmatization, stereotyping, exclusion, discrimination, racism, etc.; but also the senses of identity that groups so perceived have of themselves’. On this account, multiculturalism is not just about cultural distinctiveness, but situations of distinctiveness related to the inequality and exclusion of some groups that results in the unequal experience of citizenship. The importance of culture is how it is involved in this exclusion and the different impacts between minority and majority communities in this area. As such, the concept of culture is so important in multicultural theory because it offers its main account of exclusion as a justification for multicultural solutions and politics (i.e. multiculturalism). As a primarily normative theory rooted in liberalism, multiculturalism has often had a fairly common-sense approach to exclusion, assuming it exists and is relatively obvious in form. This, and its general prioritization of culture in general as a good, have led to many criticisms. These criticisms have tended to come from within liberal theory (opposed to criticisms of multiculturism, which come from both within and beyond) and have focused around two core claims. First, one of the most substantial avenues of criticism has focused on the ‘essentialist’ nature of conceptions of culture. As Anne Phillips notes in Multiculturalism without Culture (2007), in this view theories of culture are a straightjacket ‘forcing those described as members of a minority cultural group into a regime of authenticity, denying them the chance to cross cultural borders, borrow cultural influences, define and redefine themselves’. For Phillips and others, these views assume that members of a cultures share certain features that are essential and core, without which the culture ceases to exist. Jeremy Waldron (1995), in his cosmopolitan liberalism, has made this point in relation to hybridity. Actual cultures now are so deeply global and hybridized that any sense of cultural integrity as of normative value is lost. Waldron argues,

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We are not the self-made atoms of liberal fantasy, certainly, but neither are we exclusively products or artefacts of single national or ethnic communities. We are made by our languages, our literature, our cultures, our science, our religions, our civilization-and these are human entities that go far beyond national boundaries and exist, if they exist anywhere, simply in the world. For Waldron, the idea of culture has tended to ignore this, homogenizing groups. Second, liberal egalitarians have rejected the normative status of culture. In a more invective way, Brian Barry’s Culture and Equality (2001) provides the most damning criticism. For Barry, it is normatively confused to ascribe value to culture as such. In his view, culture is not a dimension of individuals which can justify altering citizenship or political institutions because culture is not a form of justification that is meaningful to others (who do not share your culture). As Barry claims, “Culture is no excuse”. If there are sound reasons against doing something, these cannot be trumped by saying – even if it is true – that doing it is a part of your culture. The fact that you (or your ancestors) have been doing something for a long time does nothing in itself to justify your continuing doing it […] the appeal to “culture” establishes nothing. In these ways, liberals have argued against the idea of culture as a politically relevant dimension of inclusion and exclusion.

Multiculturalism and liberalism: Recognition as fair integration The main substantive debate within political theory around how to recognize and remedy cultural exclusion in contemporary liberal democracies has been articulated within liberal theory. Like many of the dimensions of exclusion, liberalism as a normative framework looms large both as a critical object and as the basis of a theory attempting to address said exclusion. In this way, liberalism both attempts to provide recognition and is argued to be inadequate. However, in the realm of culture, liberalism is probably even more dominant, providing the main accounts of cultural recognition conceived of as ‘differentiated rights’. That said, there are substantial non-liberal criticisms of liberal multicultural recognition, as well as more recent attempts to frame multicultural recognition in non-liberal theories. Before addressing these topics, it is important to understand the context of the rise of liberal multicultural theory. The history of modern Western political thought has been increasingly preoccupied with the issue of group diversity and its relation to political community. As discussed in Chapter 9, debates around toleration, while beginning in reflections on religious difference in the seventeenth century, have had to confront a variety of political and cultural controversies around difference, political censorship and offence or harm in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. In general, questions of toleration concern the principles that should guide citizens in accepting views and practices they find deeply offensive. Toleration asks, what level of forbearance do we owe our co-citizens? In the nineteenth century, debates about nationalism and the ‘rights of peoples’ raised deep questions in political thought about self-determination

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and the nature of political community in modernity. What are nations as groups and how bonded, uniform and solidaristic need they be? What sorts of demands can nations place on members in terms of beliefs, practices and loyalties they must hold? What rights can such groups have to self-determination? Such questions were not settled; debates on nationalism continue in the twenty-first century around immigration, xenophobia, sovereignty and social cohesion in contemporary states. Finally, as discussed above in relation to recognition, the 1960s and 1970s saw a variety of new social conflicts that politicized minority groups. Inside Western states, this raised issues of racial, cultural and ethnic discrimination (amongst others), raising important questions as to the pervasive forms of inequality and how these undermined the ideals of modern political community and citizenship. At the same time, at the global level the national liberation struggles and anti-colonialism movements of a variety of colonized peoples led to a new awareness in Western political thought of the domination of nonEuropean peoples, and the deep disparity between Western political ideals and their state’s treatment of these groups. All of these debates and contexts illustrate a fundamental concern throughout modern political thought with unity, difference and the nature of political community. Despite these intense pressures, multicultural theory was rather late in arriving. In fact, it is distinctive in political thought in following rather than precipitating associated political movements. The turn to multiculturalism as a normative political project arose first in countries such as Canada (1971) and Australia (1973) before entering debates in political thought generally in the late 1980s and 1990s. Further, even once it does, it remains geographically confined in Western political thought. It is no surprise that Canada, Australia, the UK and a few other European states have produced most if not all of the multicultural political theorists as the policy itself has been unevenly taken up across the Western world. What is common is that much of the multicultural theory, especially initially, has been framed within liberal theory. Liberal multiculturalism has thus dominated that debate. In liberal theory, Kymlicka’s Multicultural Citizenship (1995) offers the most influential normative justification of multiculturalism. Like most liberal multiculturalists, Kymlicka’s theory seeks to reconcile liberalism with claims to culture by understanding recognition (as a norm and goal) as achievable through the provision of certain sort of rights: group or collective rights. After establishing his instrumental account of the value of cultural membership, discussed above, he argues that liberal commitments to equality require that minorities, who are disadvantaged in terms of access to their culture, are entitled to special protections for their culture. Since the state can never be neutral, antidiscrimination measures and universal individual rights are not adequate to this task of ensuring minority equality. What is needed, in contrast, are special rights for groups affected by these challenges. His theory argues ‘how minority rights coexist with human rights, and how minority rights are limited by principles of individual liberty, democracy, and social justice’. That is, his theory argues that minority rights are a form of general liberal rights targeted at specific groups in specific circumstances and that their guiding principles remain compatible with liberal democratic societies. The applied nature of this argument is revealed by the different types of rights Kymlicka argues for in relation to different types of groups. For example, he fundamentally

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distinguishes two types of cultural minorities his theory addresses: national minorities and ethnic minorities. National minorities are peoples who were previously self-governing. They are usually territorially concentrated and have been non-voluntarily (through conquest or colonization) incorporated into a new state in which they are minorities. His main examples here are groups such as the Quebecois in Canada or Catalan in Spain who are national minorities or Indigenous peoples. For Kymlicka, these groups are entitled to both self-government rights, which delegate some government powers to these groups to self-administer, and special representation rights (e.g. dedicated parliamentary seats) to ensure their representation in the larger state. In contrast, ethnic minorities are peoples who have voluntarily migrated (e.g. through immigration programmes) to a state and wish to retain their cultural identities and traditions. For Kymlicka, these groups are entitled to a very different type and level of rights. They are not entitled to self-government and special representation because they have chosen to leave their national culture and enter a new one. Rather, they are entitled to fair integration: rights that allow and aid them to integrate into their new societies while retaining the autonomy to maintain aspects of their culture they choose to. These ‘polyethnic rights’, ‘help ethnic groups and religious minorities express their cultural particularity and pride without it hampering their success in the economic and political institutions of the dominant society’ (Kymlicka 1995). Such ‘group-differentiated rights’ allow ethnic minorities to do or not do certain things within social and political life that their cultures demand or proscribe that would not be otherwise possible for citizens. For example, it may be an exemption right from something required (e.g. a law requiring military service), an assistance right to do something the majority does unaided (e.g. translation services), among many other types. The point is that unlike national minorities whose rights focus on the cultural survival Taylor argues for, polyethnic rights for Kymlicka are about facilitating integration into the dominant political culture and community in a fair and respectful manner.

Multiculturalism beyond liberalism Despite all these qualifications, liberal multicultural theories such as Kymlicka’s have been subject to many criticisms. We addressed some of the liberal critiques around culture above so the present focus is non-liberal ‘radical’ criticisms, which have come from several perspectives. Feminists have been quite critical of multiculturalism. Like liberal egalitarians, many feminists worry that multicultural rights undermine equality for women, particularly within minority groups. By seeking exemptions and special rights for cultural groups, it empowers those groups to maintain beliefs and practices which highly disadvantage women. In this way, feminists like Katha Pollitt (1999) argue that feminism and multiculturalism are incompatible ideals: ‘In its demand for equality for women, feminism sets itself in opposition to virtually every culture on earth … multiculturalism demands respect for all cultural traditions, while feminism interrogates and challenges all cultural traditions.’ Similarly, postcolonial and indigenous political theorists have argued that multiculturalism, despite distinguishing between groups as Kymlicka does, undermines indigenous politics by misconstruing it as an issue of cultural diversity rather than colonialism. As

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discussed in Chapter 13, these thinkers are often critical of recognition politics generally, arguing that it has failed to address the historical injustices and legacies stemming from colonialism. Multicultural citizenship on their view reproduces the exclusion of Indigenous peoples. As Glen Coulthard (2014) notes, ‘instead of ushering in an era of peaceful coexistence grounded on the Hegelian idea of reciprocity, the politics of recognition in its contemporary form promises to reproduce the very configurations of colonial power that indigenous peoples’ demands for recognition have historically sought to transcend’. Finally, post-structuralists have often criticized multicultural theory and policies as imperialistic in some way. Often this criticism seems to be simply an extension of their general critique of liberalism. The result is they see multiculturalism primarily as a coercive framework, along the lines of Foucauldian discussions of government and power addressed in Chapter 4. The point here seems to be that liberal multicultural recognition is essentially conditional; it requires minorities to basically accept the legitimacy of the state and seek inclusion within political community. As Ghassan Hage (2010) argues, multiculturalism is ‘a mode of governing cultural minorities and intercultural relations … to create and interrelate cultural subjects and regulate their interaction within a more general framework of intercultural relations’. To one extent or another, these criticisms have, of course, been responded to by multicultural theorists in various ways. The final point to make is that debates over multicultural recognition are very much continuing. Despite a well-known public backlash against multiculturalism in the 2000s and the introduction of a competitor concept, interculturalism, in the social sciences (which has been somewhat lukewarmly received), multicultural theory is alive and well. Perhaps the most prominent trend in political theory is an attempt to push multiculturalism outside and beyond its liberal origins. Particularly prominent are British thinkers of multiculturalism such as Bhikhu Parekh and Tariq Modood, who have attempted to argue for multicultural recognition from a democratic, rather than liberal, perspective. This involves not just rights, as liberals tend to focus on, but the creation of common forms of belonging. Democratic political community for these multiculturalists involves reshaping political community in light of immigration and cultural diversity (as well as the inequalities it has brought). For example, Parekh (2000) argues for the goal of a ‘multiculturally constituted common culture’ created by the deep interaction between culturally different citizens and groups, all of whom must adapt to each other’s culture. Political community for him should be a ‘community of communities’ where both minority cultures and majorities modify their beliefs, values and practices in interaction with others. This theory takes recognition beyond rights and fair integration to think about how national or political identity and unity must adjust to the changing face of diverse liberal democracies. In this way, they throw up some of the challenges of cosmopolitan forms of multiculturalism and discussions of cultural globalization which have made similar arguments on the global level (see p. 322). Debates about culture and recognition have fundamentally challenged the liberal model of citizenship and community. Including thinkers from across the traditions of political thought they have considered the nature of what recognizing culture can and should mean in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries.

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THINKING GLOBALLY CULTURAL GLOBALIZATION Cultural globalization is the process whereby information, commodities and images produced in one part of the world enter a global flow that tends to ‘flatten out’ cultural differences between nations, regions and individuals. It is closely linked to economic globalization and the communications and information revolution. One of the chief implications of this form of globalization is that, in weakening the cultural distinctiveness of the nation state, it undermines the capacity of the nation to generate social solidarity and political allegiance. The dominant image of cultural globalization is one of homogenization, the establishment of a global culture that imprints itself on all parts of the world. From this perspective, cultural globalization could amount to a form of cultural imperialism; cultural flows take place between unequal partners and are therefore a means for powerful states to dominate weak states. Hence, cultural globalization is ‘Westernization’ or, more specifically, ‘Americanization’. The two main ingredients of cultural globalization have been the spread of consumerism and the growth of individualism. The former is evident in the worldwide advance of a culture of consumer capitalism, sometimes seen as ‘turboconsumerism’. One aspect of this is ‘Cocacolonization’, referring to the emergence of

global goods and brands (Coca-Cola being a prime example) that dominate economic markets in increasing parts of the world. The latter, the rise of individualism, is widely seen as a consequence of the establishment of industrial capitalism as the dominant mode of social organization, first in Western societies and, due to globalization, beyond. Although liberal theorists associate rising individualism with the spread of progressive social values such as toleration and equality of opportunity, communitarians (see p. 57) have warned that it profoundly weakens community and social belonging. The image of globalization as homogenization is at best a partial one, however. The threat of homogenization, especially when it is perceived to be ‘from outside’, has provoked cultural resistance. This can be seen in the resurgence of interest in declining languages and minority cultures as well as in the spread of religious fundamentalism. Barber (2003) thus advanced an image of world culture shaped by symbiotic links between ‘McWorld’, which seeks to turn the world into a ‘commercially homogeneous theme park’, and ‘Jihad’, representing the forces of religious militancy. There is evidence, moreover, that all societies are becoming more varied and diverse through the growth of ‘hybridity’ and creolization (the crossfertilization that takes place when different cultures interact).

CONCLUSION This chapter has attempted to provide a common framing for discussions of sociopolitical exclusion through the political thought of recognition and identity and apply this initially to the concepts of gender and culture (with race and colonialism discussed in Chapter 13). This general framing is prompted by the way in which recognition and identity dominate contemporary discussions of exclusion. What it would mean to recognize these forms of exclusion, and the groups therein, and how their identities as members of genders, cultures, races and colonized peoples could be included are fundamental to these debates.

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As such they not only saturate discussions within each one of these areas, but across them as well. As we have seen, the concepts of identity and recognition highlight cultural dimensions of exclusion. There is a common idea that since the 1970s a politics of recognition has emerged within minority groups that sees the exclusion of identity as a deep form of harm, challenging universal forms of liberal democratic citizenship. This has led to a politics of equal respect, in Taylor’s terminology, and a critical response from rightsbased and redistributive theory that sees recognition as inhibiting egalitarianism. These tensions have played out in debates about gender and culture. In the former, feminist theory has used the concept of gender to highlight the sociocultural dimensions of the oppression of women both in political society and political theory itself. However, its use of the sex/gender distinction has raised difficult questions over strategy (equality vs difference) and the concept of woman itself. In the latter, the exclusion of cultural minorities through the ‘neutral’ liberal democratic state, led to the emergence of liberal multiculturalist theory. This theory has focused on normatively prescribing modes of fair integration and self-government for different groups, but has been the object of deep criticism from a variety of perspectives, including feminism. All of this demonstrates the complex, mutually shifting and overlapping nature of exclusion.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS CHARLES TAYLOR’S ‘THE POLITICS OF RECOGNITION’ (1994) ‘The Politics of Recognition’ (1994) is a landmark essay in contemporary political theory. It began as Taylor’s Inaugural Lecture for the University Center for Human Values at Princeton University but was eventually published in a volume dedicated to the essay, and critical responses from prominent theorists, entitled Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition. The essay remains one of the most broadest and influential discussions of recognition in the AngloAmerican tradition. Part of its influence stems from the scale and ambition of the discussion. The essay begins with a broad account of the rise of recognition politics in modern and contemporary Western politics. Taylor roots this in a theory of identity that places language and dialogue at the centre of our individual selves. We require recognition from peers to make sense of ourselves and suffer harm when this is denied or perverted. Taylor then goes on to argue for a history development of a particular universalist form of recognition in procedural liberalism that runs awry of the particularistic forms of recognition currently being demanded by minority groups. He closes the essay with a tangential discussion of the question of equally valuing cultures. Readers should remember that this essay was originally written as a lecture and so raises more issues than it answers. It also is introducing a concept into a context it was not commonly used, and so lacks clear answers. Nonetheless, it represents a key resource for understanding the politics of identity and difference in political theory and beyond today.

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Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘This crucial feature of human life is its fundamentally dialogical character. We become full human agents, capable of understanding ourselves, and hence of defining our identity, through our acquisition of rich human languages of expression.’ 2. ‘A person or a group of people can suffer real damage, real distortion, if the people or society around them mirror back to them a confining or demeaning or contemptible picture of themselves.’ 3. ‘Where the politics of universal dignity fought for forms of nondiscrimination that were quite “blind” to the ways in which citizens differ, the politics of difference often redefines nondiscrimination as requiring that we make these distinctions the basis of differential treatment.’ 4. ‘These two modes of politics, then, both based on the notion of equal respect, come into conflict. For one, the principle of equal respect requires that we treat people in a differenceblind fashion. The fundamental intuition that humans command this respect focuses on what is the same in all. For the other, we have to recognize and even foster particularity.’

Reading questions 1. Why is identity important to humans for Taylor? 2. What sorts of harm can people suffer in relation to identity? 3. How has recognition become more difficult in modernity? 4. What is the difference between the politics of universal dignity and the politics of difference? 5. Can states recognize particularity?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What is recognition and how does it yy yy yy yy yy

relate to identity? In what sense does the politics of recognition go beyond egalitarianism? What is Taylor’s social thesis? What is gender? In what way can we can social and political Institutions are gendered? Do women and men have the same ‘essential’ nature? What tensions does

this question raise in contemporary feminism? yy Is culture politically significant? yy How has multiculturalism attempted to reconcile cultural diversity with liberal political communities? yy How have criticisms of multicultural challenged its project?

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FURTHER READING Butler, J. (ed) Feminists Theorise the Political (1992). Still one of the best engagements of feminism from a variety of theoretical traditions that draws out the differences between approaches. Okin, S. Women in Western Political Thought (1979). One of the most Influential rereadings of the history of Western political thought from a feminist perspective. It considers much of the canon.

Parekh, B. A New Politics of Identity: Political Principles for an Interdependent World (2008). A thought-provoking assessment of the fate of a range of identities, which considers how these could be reconstituted in a global age. Taylor, C., et al. Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition (1994). A definitive collection with Taylor’s original essay and responses from a variety of central voices in the field.

CHAPTER 13

THE PROBLEM OF EXCLUSION II: RACE AND COLONIALISM

Introduction326 Race327 •• Race and exclusion 328 •• The classical critical tradition on race 329 •• The philosophy of race and critical race theory: Recognizing systemic racism331 Colonialism335 •• Colonialism and exclusion337 •• Criticizing colonialism 339 •• From post- to settlercolonialism: The problem of liberal recognition 341 Conclusion345

INTRODUCTION This chapter is in deep dialogue with the discussion in Chapter 12 of recognition, gender and culture. Not only do the forms of exclusion around race and colonialism intersect with those of gender and culture (e.g. when groups suffer from multiple forms of exclusion), but the framework of exclusion, recognition and identity are equally operative in contemporary debates about race and colonialism. The nature of race and racial identity, and recognition as a framework for resetting relations within liberal democratic states with a history of colonization, are just two ways these concepts sit at the centre of these live and ongoing debates. So, in that sense, this chapter should be read alongside the discussion of recognition and theory from the previous.

That said, the problem of exclusion takes on new forms with race and colonialism. While also structural and pervasive, as in gender and cultural exclusion, in some ways the issues of race and, particularly, colonialism challenge the very legitimacy of Western states in ways that feminism and multiculturalism do not. Except for some radical feminists, most of these thinkers assume that Western citizenship and political community can be made (after significant change) inclusive of those 326

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groups. However, with discussions of race, we see the idea of a systemic level of exclusion which challenges that ideal. Despite the concept being deeply undermined as a scientific claim, the exclusionary consequences of modern and contemporary racism suggest a form of inequality that may not be recognizable within liberal democratic frameworks. Equally, if not more so, the challenge presented by settler political communities and citizenship, stemming from colonialism, goes to the heart of the legitimacy of some Western states. If that legitimacy cannot be reconstructed for Indigenous peoples in a way they can recognize but must be refused, as some political theorists claim, what does this mean for the project of ever-widening inclusion in Western citizenship?

RACE While the concepts and problems of gender and culture have in some ways dominated the last four decades, political theory has had a surprisingly difficult time discussing race. This is despite the concept’s increasing importance in the social sciences generally. As discussed in Chapter 3, race has been one of the most fundamental social divisions within modern Western political thought and sociopolitical life generally. This silence is even more problematic as Western political thought has often served in the role of justifying and propagating ideas of racial hierarchy, sometimes implicitly but at others quite vehemently. While that has not been the case for quite some time, the continued lack of attention to race in contemporary political theory illustrates the deep myopia that can sometimes emerge in a discipline. Nonetheless, race and racial exclusion have been key to political theory in a variety of ways. In recent years, historians of political thought have exposed how canonical Western thinkers accepted and developed racist arguments. In some cases these thinkers also argued for the exclusion of non-Western peoples from the normative demands of citizenship and global justice they argued for in relation to the West. Further, these historians of political thinking have also resurrected a critical tradition, mainly of racial minority authors, writing on race in nineteenth- and twentieth-century political theory. This tradition serves as a foundation for the two current literatures, both somewhat outside political theory proper, theorizing race in contemporary political thought: the philosophy of race and critical race theory. Together they constitute the main forums in which racial exclusion is being recognized in Western theory. Further they illustrate that race is unique among the dimensions addressed in Chapters 12 and 13 in at least one way: the debate over recognizing race, unlike other social identities, involves considerable arguments over whether we should simply stop talking about it, as the category itself is the problem. While many other theorists disagree, this illustrates a level of contention over the concept that makes the ‘recognition of race’ deeply unclear.

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Race and exclusion Race has been one of the most fundamental social divisions within modern Western political thought and sociopolitical life generally. However, as discussed above, there has often been a deep silence in political thought on race, and a subterranean justification of racial hierarchy pervades the work of many pre-twentieth-century political thinkers. As a result, it is difficult to understand the role of race in political thought and just what sorts of critical and normative resources political theory might bring to understanding and addressing racial exclusion. The concept of ‘race’ refers to the identification of fundamental differences, usually biological or physical (e.g. skin or hair colour, physique, physiognomy), that supposedly distinguish people from one another in socially and politically significant ways. However, this simple definition belies fundamental paradoxes around the category of race that structure how contemporary theorists navigate the idea. As many contemporary scholars emphasize, race is a fluid concept that has taken on different forms in different places and times. On the one hand, there is a deep ontological controversy around what race is. Previously, those controversies surrounded the historical origin of racial difference. However, once race was seen to be a social and exclusionary category (a form of oppression), and so generally a fictitious or constructed idea, the issue has been how to understand this falsity while asserting its real consequences. Race is both false (as a justification for hierarchy) and true (as a form of oppression). This makes studying race deeply problematic in some ways. Theorists of race must walk a difficult line of attempting to use the idea of race to expose its consequences without reinforcing the category itself or its effects. As a result, increasingly over the development of modern and contemporary discussions of race there has been a tendency to focus more on racism or prejudice and racialization (as processes of exclusion) rather than race as a category itself. Modern political theory’s problematic relation to race comes out of the modern scientific debate over race. While there is a lot of debate over this history, scholars seem to agree that the concept of race is a distinctly modern phenomenon. This concept took its main shape from the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries within the fields of natural philosophy and its conception of science as principally concerned with taxonomy: categorization through observation. In the first instance, such as in the work of François Bernier (1625– 88), this involved the idea of race as the product of human lineages. Thus, a key aspect of early race debates was monogenesis (which asserted a common ancestor to all human races) vs polygenesis (which asserted different ancestral routes to distinct races). However, with the dominance of evolutionary thought in the nineteenth century, the focus fully shifts to a monogenetic focus on topologizing different races through an analysis of physical and mental ‘types’. The increasingly scientific (opposed to biblical) explanation of race then led to four key claims in the modern conception of race: (1) races reflect some type of biological difference; (2) biology produces discrete racial groups that each share key biological characteristics; (3) this biological foundation is inherited and so can be traced to geographical origin (usually a continent); and (4) this biological foundation results in both physical and mental or behavioural differences between the races. While many thinkers were silent on the issue, to its discredit modern political thought was often a collaborator (or at least non-objector) with the scientific justification of racial difference. In this, it assumed the reality of races, while periodically adding examinations

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of their political consequences. The latter usually took the form of arguments justifying why non-Europeans and non-whites were not due the same treatment as white Europeans. This often meant denying them forms of sociopolitical inclusion. While thinkers such as John Locke’s justification of colonialism surely had racial overtones (which we examine in the section below on colonialism), political thinkers in his time largely operated without the modern concept of race. However, David Hume, writing a century later, explicitly justified racial difference as a form of hierarchy that justifies sociopolitical exclusion. In ‘Of National Characters’ ([1748] 2018), Hume addresses the question of differences among European peoples, specifically disagreeing that they are down to any biological differences. Rather, cultural and political influences for him explain the variation among white peoples. In what is now an infamous footnote to the 1754 edition, he added ‘I am apt to suspect the negroes and in general all the other species of men (for there are four or five different kinds) to be naturally inferior to whites. There never was a civilized nation of any other complexion than white, nor even any individual eminent either in action or speculation.’ Hume thus introduces a basic political distinction into humanity: civilized whites vs non-civilized others. The former are characterized by cultural variation, the only thing relevant about the latter is their varied inferiority. This point is even more disturbing if read with his Treatise on Human Nature ([1739] 1985) where he imagines a subspecies of humans along similar lines of ‘inferiority’ that he argued would not be due to equality or the aims of justice. Similar references, often sporadic and brief in nature, have been found in the works of Kant, Rousseau, Hegel and Mill (among others). What is clear is that many modern political thinkers, even of progressive stripes, endorsed racial hierarchy and justified the exclusion of non-white peoples from Western political norms.

The classical critical tradition on race In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, a critical tradition on race emerged in political thought contesting these claims and the normative arguments stemming from them. It is important to emphasize that this ‘classical race theory’ is not a formally identified tradition with shared characteristics but a loose collection of thinkers contesting race. The purpose of calling them classical is to distinguish them from the contemporary debates around philosophy of race and critical race theory discussed below. Thinkers here include Frederick Douglass, W. E. B. Du Bois, Alain Locke and Frantz Fanon. These figures and the intellectual currents they represent deeply overlapped with political movements such as Negritude, Black Identity, Philosophy of Liberation and Black nationalism. The heavy American focus here is indicative of the importance race has in American political thought early on, but also the tendency to view race through the American lens in Western political thought generally. In many ways, early race theorists such as Douglass (1818–95) laid out the key concerns of this tradition. Douglass was an African American social reformer, abolitionist, orator, writer and statesman writing largely in the wake of institutionalized slavery in the United States. He confronted the various problems of the legacy of slavery, and the continued social, economic and political inequalities of African Americans. For example, in The Nation’s Problem ([1886] 2018), he takes on the idea of the ‘Negro Problem’: the narrative that racial inequality was a result of cultural problems with African Americans instead

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of continued racism. Instead, he argues that the source of racial inequality is not Black people, ‘The real question, the all commanding question, is whether American justice, American liberty, American civilization, American law and American Christianity can be made to include and protect alike and forever all American citizens.’ Douglass here claims that racial injustice is a problem located in the US state; it is a deep structural problem of its political institutions, which are incapable, for him, of being inclusive of Black Americans. On the normative side, Douglass argued for two controversial goals: integration and amalgamation. The former argued against Black separatism (which suggested African Americans either return to Africa or seek social and political autonomy elsewhere), while the latter argued for ethnic intermixing with whites (and others) to form an ‘American Race’ as the solution to social division and inequality. Amalgamation would prove a deeply controversial goal in Black and anti-racist political thought as it seems to suggest the solution to racism is the destruction of minority identities (as well as, arguably, majority ones). Du Bois (1868–1963) represents a fundamental turn in race theory insofar as his concern was not only to understand and solve racial inequality as a sociopolitical problem but also to illuminate the psychological and phenomenological nature of racism. His work spanned a variety of disciplines and a career of writings, though he is perhaps best known for his The Souls of Black Folk ([1903] 2007), where he addressed his most notable idea of the effects of slavery on African American psychology: double-consciousness. This is a split within their consciousness, a division caused by their unequal status in their own society. For Du Bois, it is a ‘sense of always looking at oneself through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity’. African Americans experience their sociopolitical lives through the lens of privileged whites. They thus always see themselves through a depiction of their inequality. Fanon (1925–61), who we address in more detail in the discussion of colonialism, was one of the most important writers in the race theory of the twentieth century. In Black Skin, White Masks ([1952] 2021), which has become one of the central texts of contemporary race theory, he examines the operation of racial inferiorization. In what has become one of the most famous passages, he discusses an anecdote in which, during his time in France, a white child points at him and says, ‘Look, a Negro!’. For Fanon, in a racially unequal society, the white gaze and recognition of race is itself a kind of slur (even from a child). The identification of race fixes the identity of the minority, laying their race upon their skin (so to speak) and locking them within it and within the whole set of social meanings of political inequality associated with it in larger society. This is race’s ‘epidermal’ or visual quality. Interestingly, while thinkers such as Fanon and Du Bois identify such deep forms of racial oppression, they also find value in racial identity. In ‘The Conservation of Races’ ([1897] 2014), one of his most famous essays, Du Bois argues that races have within them a kind of historical experience and perspective of deep value to humanity. He thus argued against amalgamation and for the retention of Black identity and ideals. This classical critical tradition on race, thus, established an important set of ideas on race, racism and racial exclusion in Western, liberal democratic societies. It illustrated, amongst other things, the complexity of the phenomenon of racial exclusion, in its social-psychological dimensions, and the deep normative tensions (e.g. integration, amalgamation, recognition and identity) around equality that result. This complements

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THINKER FRANTZ FANON (1926–61) A Martinique-born French revolutionary theorist, Fanon was born under French colonial rule, trained as a psychiatrist and physician and served in the Free French Army in North Africa and Continental Europe. All of this gave him a deep experience of the intersections between racism and colonialism, which would become the two main focuses of his sociopolitical theory. In France, he was deeply influenced by the French existentialist movement of Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus and Simone de Beauvoir, integrating some of its ideas into his work. There are two key struts of Fanon’s work. First, in Black Skin, White Masks he offered an existential analysis of the experience of European racism for non-white peoples. His key argument is that racism, as applied to and attached to skin colour, inferiorizes the everyday experience of Black people forcing them to both attempt to be white but always fail. Second, in A Dying Colonialism and The Wretched of the Earth he analysed the logic of Western colonialism, particularly its construction of a world of stark inequality between ‘settler’ and ‘native’, in both material and psychological terms. Fanon is best known for his emphasis on violence as a feature of the anticolonial struggle. Given his emphasis on the psychological dimension of colonial subjugation, decolonialization cannot merely be a political process, but one through which a new ‘species’ of man is created. Fanon argued that only the cathartic experience of violence is powerful enough to bring about this psychopolitical regeneration. Fanon’s major works include Black Skin, White Masks ([1952] 2021) and The Wretched of the Earth (1962).

the identification of modern political thought’s complicity, and active involvement, in excluding non-white peoples from the normative arguments for inclusion otherwise being made. Racial exclusion in the modern period has been about denying the human and foundational rights of some people. It has not been so much about privatizing difference, as in the case of gender and culture, as about the denial of personhood.

The philosophy of race and critical race theory: Recognizing systemic racism While the classical critical tradition on race illustrated a strong contingent of American authors (but with more global contributions), contemporary race theory is dominated by American political thought and the American political context generally. This means that there is a kind of prominence in contemporary political theory of the example of African Americans as Black-skinned people subject to racism, which defines the literature on race in the Anglo-American world. This is best demonstrated through the two closest literatures to contemporary political theory examining race today: the philosophy of race (PR) and critical theory race (CRT). While emerging out of distinct disciplines, philosophy and sociolegal theory respectively, PR and CRT are both defined by their historical and systemic approaches to race and racism that attempt to recognize the pervasive nature of racial exclusion in contemporary sociopolitical society. What they illustrate is that race and racial exclusion are deeply complex in contemporary theoretical discussions in ways that present fundamental challenges to contemporary liberal democratic states.

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Philosophy of race refers to a broad set of philosophical debates about race and racial exclusion since the late twentieth century. Unlike earlier work on race, which was often focused on incredibly overt forms of racism and the illegitimacy of race as a social division, PR is focused on understanding the complex ontology of race as a socialhistorical construction, the systemic nature of racist exclusion, the deep impact of race on individual psychology and identity, and the consequences of race for reassessing the canon of Western thought. In this sense, it is a large and multifaceted literature that goes well beyond the scope of our discussion here, which can only raise two key discussions: (1) the ontological and, consequent, moral status of ‘race’; and (2) the relation between racism and liberal democratic inclusion. The ontological question about race concerns what race as a category is and identifies. However, it operates with a fundamental difficulty. Increasingly, social scientists and political thinkers have agreed that race is a social and exclusionary category (a form of oppression), and so generally a fictitious or constructed idea. This creates the difficulty of simultaneously trying to understand this falsity while keeping in view its real consequences. Race is both false (as a typology of peoples) and true (in how it divides people politically). Theorists of race must walk a difficult line of attempting to use the idea of race to expose its consequences without reinforcing the inequality it creates. The main division in PR is between thinkers of racial scepticism vs racial constructivism. The former, such as Anthony Appiah (1996) and Naomi Zack (1998), argue that the complete lack of a scientific justification for race (something that emerged in the early twentieth century) means we should stop using the term. Rather, we should focus on the phenomena of racism and racialization. For example, Lawrence Blum (2002) argues we should focus more on the processes of ‘inferiorization’ and ‘antipathy’ that affect ‘racialized groups’, rather than races themselves. This highlights that race is an externally imposed category that creates deep power imbalances. Many racial sceptics argue for eliminativism: the normative argument that recommends discarding the concept of race. Appiah (1996), following Du Bois, argues that this position is perfectly compatible with being ‘for racial identities’, if we remain critical of those identities themselves. As he notes, ‘Racial identity can be the basis of resistance to racism; but even as we struggle against racism … let us not let our racial identities subject us to new tyrannies.’ This threads quite close to racial constructivism, which argues that even though races are scientifically false, they exist as cultural and social products. While there are several camps within this constructivist approach, they all generally argue that the concept of race retains some meaning and use in social and political thought because it serves as a basis for understanding the experience of racialized minorities and a ground for their emancipatory identities or movements. Members of races share experiences, practices, beliefs and culture in ways that make their groups real on this argument. Philosophy of race has also led to a deep attempt to reconsider the history of Western political thought and its relation to race. Perhaps the most influential figure is Charles Mills (1970–). His work The Racial Contract (1997) builds on Carole Pateman’s genderfocused reassessment of the social contract by examining its relation to race. The idea of the social contract is to conceive of society as consensually brought into existence to argue for just terms of social and political life. However, Mills argues that the social contract is not neutral with respect to race. Rather the theory and the model of the state,

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citizenship and political community it proposes, relies on racial domination. He calls this the ‘domination contract’, an implicit (though periodically explicit) agreement among the contracting parties (who are white, male Europeans) to ensure that the social contract does not disturb the existing racial hierarchy of Western societies. For Mills, if we think of the contract as embedded within systemic forms of domination, a global system of white supremacy (see p. 334), then its inadequacy is obvious. It fails to address and so reinforces that hierarchy by ignoring the concept of race and the way race structures present political power. This lack of an attention to race is, in reality, an ‘epistemology of ignorance’: a way of seeing the world that ignores a significant structuring factor to exclude it. As Mills notes, ‘on matters related to race, the Racial Contract prescribes for its signatories an inverted epistemology, an epistemology of ignorance, a particular pattern of localized and global cognitive dysfunctions (which are psychologically and socially functional), producing the ironic outcome that whites will in general be unable to understand the world they themselves have made’ (1997). In this way, Mills uses a systemic understanding of racism to criticize the liberal tradition of political thought as excluding racial minorities in covert ways. An emphasis on both the systemic nature of racial exclusion and on the implications of this for liberal political institutions is also key to CRT, our second major contemporary focus on race theory. Critical race theory now dominates the social sciences as the main critical lens on race. Theoretically, it derives its critical approach from elements from both Frankfurt School Critical Theory and post-structuralism to examine law, culture, social life and political institutions as they relate to race and power. In this, it is defined by a systemic view of racism as a structure embedded within social and political life. This structure advantages white people and disadvantages people of colour. For example, Bonilla-Silva in White Supremacy and Racism in the Post-Civil Rights Era (2001) argues his approach has been to look for a ‘coherent theory of how racism works, operates, and becomes institutionalized. For me, race was but an epiphenomenon of a system of racial domination, a system I believed emerged in modernity.’ The result was his ‘racialized social system’ approach that examines ‘societies in which economic, political, social, and ideological levels are partially structured by the placement of actors in racial categories or races’. While CRT is a diverse literature spanning various social-scientific and theoretical disciplines, it does tend to have a series of common views and arguments on race that distinguish its systemic approach. First, it holds to the idea that racism in modern liberal democratic societies is embedded and normal. Because it is interested in going beyond overt prejudice, it argues that racism is, as Richard Delgado claims, ‘an ingrained feature of our landscape, it looks ordinary and natural to persons in the culture’ (Delgado and Stefancic 2000). On this view racism is not simply the rantings of racial supremacists but is found in the racial make-up of powerholders and the disempowered, the assumptions of law and jurisprudence, education curriculum and all other institutions. Second, racism is also persistent or even permanent. As a structure, racism is enduring within institutions and social practices. Derrick Bell has argued for a ‘racial realism’ that sees racism as a long-standing social dynamic not subject to assumptions of progress. The dynamic nature of racism, which has taken on more insidious and less overt forms, identified by ideas of cultural racism or colour-blind racism are only evidence of this. Finally, CRT

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is fundamentally critical of liberalism as a way of understanding and addressing racial inequality. As racism is embedded and persistent, CRT rejects liberal ideals around neutral and colour-blind forms of law and citizenship, on the one hand, and commitments to incremental change through liberal institutions, on the other. For example, Bonilla-Silva calls colour-blind racism the dominant ideology of post-civil rights liberalism. Its claims to have moved ‘post-race’ actually reinforce racial hierarchy by suggesting, like Mills’s view on the social contract, equality where there is systemic exclusion. In this way, PR and CRT are deep contributions to the emergent and needful debate in political theory on recognizing race. Unlike issues of gender or culture, the silence on race places political theory under a deep onus to understand how the category itself has been insufficiently addressed in our discussions of citizenship, the state and political community (amongst others). As they emerge from outside political theory proper, neither PR and CRT can be considered political theories of race. However, they are both deeply relevant to political theory (and of course do overlap with it substantially), which has an urgent need to more properly consider issues of recognizing race and addressing racial exclusion today. This need is more urgent given the pervasive presence of racism in the history of political thought, and the fractious nature of debating race today (nowhere better demonstrated than in the controversies over CRT in the United States itself).

THINKING GLOBALLY GLOBAL WHITE SUPREMACY The idea of ‘global white supremacy’ comes out of the work of Charles Mills and his work in his The Racial Contract (1997). This work represents one of the most influential critiques of the role of race in political theory and philosophy. One of its central claims is for the idea of ‘global white supremacy’, which Mills calls ‘the unnamed political system that has made the modern world what it is today’. Global white supremacy is similar to ideas of patriarchy in feminist theory insofar as it attempts to identify a systemic and structural form of disempowerment and oppression of a particular group (nonwhites). As such, it ‘is itself a political system, a particular power structure of formal or informal rule, socio-economic privilege, and norms for the differential distribution of material wealth and opportunities, benefits and burdens, rights and duties’. Mills describes global white supremacy in (at least) two senses. On the one hand, global

white supremacy must be understood as de facto: as a material reality reflecting a generally different distribution of wealth, power and opportunities between whites and non-whites. This ‘globally color-coded distribution of wealth and poverty’ persists despite the end of explicit colonization and the presence of racially diverse states in the West and around the world. For Mills, because of the great disparities of wealth and power between the West and non-West, and because of the situation of white privilege within the West, whites ‘control a percentage of the world’s wealth grossly disproportionate to their numbers’. On the other hand, global white supremacy is also de jure: it is part of the institutional, legal and political past and present of West. During the period of explicit colonization, the de jure aspects of white privilege were obvious, ‘the Racial Contract was explicit, the characteristic instantiations – the expropriation contract, the slave contract, the colonial contract – making it clear that whites were the privileged race

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and the egalitarian social contract applied only to them’. Subsequently, the contract was formalized and generalized to nominally include non-whites. At this point the de jure and de facto senses of global white supremacy come into conflict as formal equality and real inequality meet. In this situation, Mills argues that global white supremacy now exists within an ‘epistemology of ignorance’ where it writes itself out of existence. Its pernicious nature in contemporary liberal democratic politics is that global white supremacy has plausible claims to simply not exist, to not be a system. For Mills, race is simply disregarded as a problematic and, in fact, is thought to no longer have political importance. The very attempt to de-race citizenship, by formally

making it open to all peoples, is then an aspect of continued white supremacy. While still in development in some ways, the idea of global white supremacy has become deeply influential, being taken up by a variety of philosophers of race, social theorists and social scientists. It is also open to criticism. For example, several scholars have noted that his theory is unclear about its implications for mainstream political theories such as liberalism, which have both argued against racial injustice and participate in it. Mills himself muddied the waters by endorsing a form of liberalism in Black Rights/White Wrongs: The Critique of Racial Liberalism (2017). Nonetheless, the power and influence of the idea are growing, though its future is still unclear.

COLONIALISM While the debate on race in political theory is in some ways yet to arrive, the problems of colonialism and its legacy in liberal democracies are increasingly established questions in contemporary political theory. In this sense, political theory mirrors deep trends in the social sciences and humanities in the Anglo-American world, that have substantially turned to colonialism in recent decades. However, the question of recognizing colonialism arises in political theory in a distinct way: in relation to the Indigenous and aboriginal peoples present in many ‘settler-colonial’ Western liberal democratic states (e.g. ‘First Nations’ in Canada, Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders in Australia, or the Maori people of New Zealand). Such groups were originally considered within theories of multiculturalism, as in Kymlicka’s (1995) influential theory. Their inequality was thus seen through the lens of culture. What defines the current conversation is the way in which the colonial past of these types of societies and the continued presence of these types of communities directly challenge modern questions of the nature of political community, the role of the state and meaning of modern citizenship. In short, Indigenous people challenge the basic legitimacy of the modern state, the idea of equal democratic political community and the model of uniform citizenship. To understand the shape of this challenge and debate, this section examines the idea of colonialism and the challenge it presents to the history of modern political thought, particularly liberal theory. This illustrates the forms of exclusion colonialism is thought to engender and the task before political theory. It then contrasts the dominant postcolonial (see p. 336) lens in the social sciences with the debate over recognition in settler-colonial societies that has come to dominate the political theory of colonialism. Thus, in contrast to debates over race, the theoretical and public debates around colonialism circle the

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concept of recognition. It has been the dominant way of normatively reconstructing relations between the state, and majority community, and Indigenous peoples. However, in political thought and from within Indigenous political communities, there is contestation over the adequacy of recognition.

TRADITION: Postcolonialism Postcolonial thinking developed out of the collapse of the European empires in the early post-Second World War period. Its characteristic feature was that it sought to give current and formerly colonized peoples a distinctive political voice separate from the universalist pretensions of Western thought, particularly as represented by liberalism and socialism. This is not to say that postcolonial thinking is not deeply impacted by these traditions. As hegemonic normative and critical discourses within Western political thought, both were deeply present during and after Western colonialism. The former, liberalism, often participated in justifying Western colonialism through a universalization of liberal values, liberal democratic institutions and a progressive model of historical development. The latter, especially in Marxism, provided key resources for a systemic critique of Western colonialism, though one still implicated in Western assumptions and in need of critical revision.

political hegemony over the rest of the world. For example, Edward Said’s identification of orientalism highlights how stereotypical depictions of ‘the Orient’, or Eastern culture generally, are based on distorted and demeaning Western assumptions that maintain claims of cultural and political superiority. Second, this has resulted in a normative project within postcolonialism of establishing the legitimacy of non-Western and sometimes anti-Western political ideas and traditions. However, as it draws inspiration from Indigenous religions, cultures and traditions, postcolonial theory in this mode tends to be highly disparate. It has been reflected in Gandhi’s attempt to fuse Indian nationalism with an ethic of nonviolence rooted in Hinduism, as well as in forms of religious fundamentalism, especially Islamic fundamentalism, all the way to a current resurgence of indigenous political thought and practice in the ‘settler-colonial’ states of the United States, Canada and Australia.

As a theoretical stance, postcolonialism originated in literary and cultural studies that sought to address the cultural conditions characteristic of newly decolonized societies. From the 1970s onwards, however, postcolonial thinking acquired an increasingly political orientation, aimed at two key projects. First, it attempted a critical project of exposing and overturning the cultural and psychological dimensions of colonial rule. Crucial to this was the critical recognition that ‘inner’ subjugation can persist long after the political structures of colonialism have been removed. In this, postcolonialism has perhaps had its greatest influence as a critical approach examining how Eurocentric values and theories have helped to maintain Western cultural and

Postcolonialism has had a far-reaching impact on political theory. By attempting to both highlight the impact of colonialism and give formerly colonized peoples a distinctive political voice, it has encouraged a broader reassessment within political thought, of the inclusive Western project of liberal democratic citizenship. How normatively desirable, for instance, is a set of political ideals and institutions that participated in the legitimization of colonialism and continues to devalue non-Western sociopolitical thought? Like feminism, this has led to internal reassessments of the history of political thought and its exclusion of non-Western authors and its silence on colonialism. Critics, nevertheless, have argued that in turning its back on the Western intellectual tradition it has abandoned

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progressive politics and been used, too often, as a justification for traditional values and authority structures. This has been evident, for instance, in tension between the demands of cultural authenticity and calls for women’s rights. Key figures Marcus Garvey (1887–1940)  A Jamaican political thinker and activist, Garvey was a pioneer of Black nationalism and an early advocate of pan-Africanism. His political message mixed a call for Black pride with an insistence on economic self-sufficiency. A leader of the ‘back to Africa’ movement, Garvey developed a philosophy based on racial segregation and the re-establishment of Black consciousness through African culture and identity. Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini (1900– 1989)  An Iranian cleric and leader of Iran, 1979–89, Khomeini was the foremost modern exponent of militant political Islam. His world

view was rooted in a clear division between the oppressed (understood largely as the poor and excluded of the developing world) and the oppressors (seen as the twin Satans: the United States and the Soviet Union). Khomeini’s theopolitical project aimed at the establishment of an ‘Islamic republic’ as a system of institutionalized clerical rule. Edward Said (1935–2003)  A Palestinian Jerusalem-born US academic and literary critic, Said was a major influence on postcolonial theory. He developed a humanist critique of the Western Enlightenment that uncovered its links to colonialism and highlighted ‘narratives of oppression’, cultural and ideological biases that disempowered colonized peoples by representing them as the non-Western ‘other’. His best-known works include Orientalism (1978) and Culture and Imperialism (1993). See also Mohandas Gandhi (p. 340) and Frantz Fanon (p. 331)

Colonialism and exclusion The concept of colonialism has been of increasing importance across the social sciences and humanities over the last five decades. In general, the concept refers to the practice of domination where one people subjugates and controls another. In this, it concerns the collective control of a group, usually one that was self-determining in some sense previously. It is in this sense that colonialism is defined by a radical centre-periphery difference: a dominant central political organization that controls the internal and external policy of subordinate groups on the periphery. Thus, colonialism is defined by foreign rule, a focus on control across formal and informal systems of power, and a radically unequal relationship. However, at this point it is difficult to add extra detail. The concept of colonialism is often thought, for example, to refer to forms of this control that involved settlement, and so distinguished from imperialism (its cousin), which involves more indirect control. But the term is also widely used to capture all cases of coercive collective control. Part of this is historical. Our understanding of colonialism tends to be defined by the modern European colonial period, and the term is often used to refer to all forms of domination in that period and into the present. In fact, there is often a strong desire to use the term to refer to a single collective phenomenon of ‘Western colonialism’ with a shared essence, structure or set of practices or ideals. However, the focus on collective control between groups already presents a problem for political theory. The focus on the domination of one people by another, and ostensibly

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occurring between rather than within states, has meant political theory has often ignored or underemphasized colonialism (at least overtly). As we have seen, modern and contemporary political theory has an overwhelmingly domestic focus. While it acknowledges the importance of global political questions, its main normative concern has been within states, political communities and the relations between individuals, these entities and each other. Even in contemporary political theory, where the recognition of Indigenous peoples is a live question, this has resulted in a narrow focus. Recognizing colonialism in political theory has not tended to consider postcolonial politics in former colonies that were not settled by Western powers, as there is not a settler majority or settler state that may be under some duty to augment its relationship to citizens in light of colonialism. There the issue is framed more through explanatory postcolonial examinations of the logic and consequences of colonialism on formerly colonized peoples, and the continuing legacy of colonial violence on those populations. The normative question, as a result, is not framed as a question of citizenship and political community, as in settler-colonial contexts, but as a question of legacy, historical injustice and present pathways to addressing those wrongs (e.g. the controversial issue of reparations for systematic oppression such as slavery). As a result, the main literature considering this in political thought has usually focused on the concept of historical injustice. It is concerned with normatively theorizing the responsibilities of descendants of perpetrators and victims of historical forms of injustice and laying out the duties for reparations and other forms of redress. That said, there has been an unfortunately strong tradition in modern political thought legitimizing colonialism. Much of this history, as in gender and race above, has been exposed in recent years by historians of political thought. Of significant concern is the relation between liberalism and such justification. While not uniform, it is now clear that some of the most foundational thinkers in the liberal tradition justified and legitimized the Western colonization of non-European peoples, usually in terms that contradicted the moral and political principles they otherwise argued for. For example, John Locke (see p. 217) argued that the ‘underdeveloped’ state of North American Indigenous peoples meant they were not entitled to the forms of ownership and political self-determination that European peoples were. For Locke, these groups had not established relations of property ownership with the land, as they roamed over it and did not enclose it and make it productive (a point historically disputed by some scholars now). As he argues ([1690] 1965), ‘if either the Grass or his Inclosure rotted on the ground, or the Fruit of his planting perished without gathering, and laying up, this part of Earth, notwithstanding his Inclosure, was still to be looked on as Waste, and might be the Possession of any other’. Locke argues that because these Indigenous peoples did not accumulate wealth and make the land productive, they lacked a basic drive to civilization. They thus remained in the state of nature and were not entitled to the political autonomy other peoples were due. John Stuart Mill, whose work on liberty we discussed in Chapter 7, extended this argument in what is often thought to be one of the most common justifications of colonialism: the developmental view of history. Here, colonialism is justified as a temporary measure, a form of tutelage, that pushes an underdeveloped people along the historical track toward selfdetermination. In perhaps one of the most infamous passages of On Liberty (1972), Mill qualifies the entitlement to freedom: ‘Despotism is a legitimate mode of government in dealing with barbarians, provided the end be their improvement, and the means justified by actually effecting that end. Liberty, as a principle, has no application to any state of

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things anterior to the time when mankind have become capable of being improved by free and equal discussion.’ For Mill, freedom is only for those who have already developed Western political norms. In this way, liberalism participated in some of the most influential intellectual justifications of Western colonialism. However, the liberal justification of colonialism can be overstated and often is by critics. Many liberals were either critical of the violence and barbarity of actual colonialism in practice, or outright opposed to the entire project. In terms of the latter, for example, Adam Smith (see p. 261) opposed colonialism on classical liberal grounds: the domination of colonies by European states distorted individual freedom and the market upon which it depends. Additionally, recent work has illustrated how Denis Diderot (1713– 84), the French Enlightenment thinker, was a deep critic of colonialism on several fronts. He not only opposed the project of dominating non-European peoples but also deeply criticized the claims to cultural and intellectual superiority that legitimized that project. So the tradition, while surely needing to question its history, is not uniform by any means.

Criticizing colonialism A concerted critical tradition on colonialism, however, only properly begins with Marxism. While Marx himself never develop a theory of Western colonialism, his analysis of capitalism included an understanding of its inherent expansionism. In both the Grundrisse (1968), and Capital (1968) Marx argued that the forces of capital would be increasingly pushed to create more global markets, removing local and national barriers to trade. Such expansionism is a key product of an inherent tendency to crisis in capitalism caused by overproduction. To be brief, competition in the market pushes employers to cut wages to maintain profits. This immiserates workers and drives consumption down, which then forces employers to find new markets for their commodities. As a result, for Marx some form of imperialism is inevitable in capitalist societies. In fact, much like his view of capitalism itself, Marx was somewhat ambivalent about colonialism. Because it could be similarly viewed as a process that pushed non-Western states further along the historical pathway to socialism (by destroying existing social and economic relations), Marx saw it as ultimately advancing the conditions in which class conflict would disappear. He did also note its deep violence and dispossession though. Later Marxist theory, such as in J. A. Hobson’s Imperialism (1902) and Vladimir Lenin’s Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism ([1916] 1970), furthered this analysis by understanding imperialism as the inevitable result of the drive for accumulation in capitalism. Lenin famously argued that imperialism is a historical stage of capitalism itself, an essential part of its own development. As he notes, ‘Capitalism has grown into a world system of colonial oppression and of the financial strangulation of the overwhelming majority of the people of the world by a handful of “advanced” countries.’ The Marxist account of imperialism proved fundamental to the development of critiques of colonialism. In many ways, postcolonial theory (discussed in the next section) is a direct development of Marxist accounts of global capitalism. However, it also importantly disagrees with Marxists in several ways. Perhaps the most paradigmatic example is Frantz Fanon’s theorization of colonialism in The Wretched of the Earth (1962). Fanon argues that colonial exploitation and exclusion is distinctive in form and not totally explained by economics. It is worth quoting Fanon at length:

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The originality of the colonial context is that economic reality, inequality, and the immense difference of ways of life never come to mask the human realities … what parcels out the world is to begin with the fact of belonging to or not belonging to a given race, a given species … you are rich because you are white, you are white because you are rich. This is why Marxist analysis should always be slightly stretched every time we have to do with the colonial problem. For Fanon, the colonial distinction between settler and native, colonizing state and colonized, changes the nature of exclusion and oppression. Group and, in some cases, racial difference becomes key. As in the discussion of race above, the visual nature of this distinction and oppression makes it more potent. The colonized context is a divided one where the exclusion is obvious. And as a result it is all the more pervasive. Fanon famously argued that colonialism was not just about domination but denigration. The colonized people are not simply dominated but devalued as inferior, or incompatible with civilization. As Fanon notes, ‘The colonial world is a Manichean world … the settler paints the native as a sort of quintessence of evil. Native society is not simply described as a society lacking in values … The native is declared insensible to ethics; he represents not only the absence of values, but also the negation of values’ (1962). Colonial exclusion is deep and pervasive. It is not only an act of power that dominates physically, politically and economically. It is a moral and cultural form of domination as well. All of this illustrates the deep and multidimensional forms of exclusion that colonialism raises in political theory. Colonized peoples have been excluded from citizenship in Western political community, the canon of political thought and a recognition of the basic legitimacy of their ways of life. These dimensions have been key to more contemporary debates.

THINKER MOHANDAS KARAMCHAND GANDHI (1869–1948) Indian political leader and thinker. Later called Mahatma (‘Great Soul’), Gandhi trained as a lawyer in the UK and developed his political philosophy whilst working in South Africa where he organized protests against discrimination. After returning to India in 1915, he became one of the leaders of the nationalist movement, campaigning for independence, finally achieved in 1947. Gandhi was assassinated in 1948 by a fanatical Hindu. Gandhi’s ethic of non-violent resistance, satyagraha, gave the Indian independence movement enormous moral authority and provided a model for later civil rights activists. First outlined in Hind Swaraj (Home Rule) (1909), it was based on a philosophy ultimately derived from Hinduism in which the universe is regulated by the primacy of truth, or satya. As humankind is ‘ultimately one’, love, care and a concern for others is the natural basis for human relations. Indeed, he described love as ‘the law of our being’. For Gandhi, non-violence not only expressed the proper moral relationship among people but also, when linked to self-sacrifice (tapasya), constituted a powerful social and political programme. He condemned Western materialism and moral weakness, and regarded it as the source of violence and injustice. Gandhi favoured small, self-governing and largely self-sufficient rural communities, and gave support to the redistribution of land and the promotion of social justice.

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From post- to settler-colonialism: The problem of liberal recognition The contemporary discussion of colonialism and its legacy in political theory is informed both by general criticisms of colonialism from across the social sciences and humanities, and the concerns and forms of exclusion most relevant to the discipline. The former is dominated by postcolonialism: the intellectual framework that emerged from literary and cultural studies in the 1970s around key figures such as Frantz Fanon (1925–61), Gayatri Spivak (1942–), Homi Bhabha (1949–), Albert Memmi (1920–) and Edward Said (1935–2003). In one way or another, all these figures attempted to (1) expose the legacies and impacts of Western colonialism on colonized peoples, (2) highlight the deep cultural and psychological nature of these effects beyond the economic and political, and (3) give space and voice to non-Western perspectives and criticisms of Western political ideas, much like the recent emergence of comparative political theory (see p. 344). For example, in Dominated Man (1968) Memmi argues that decolonization is a long and deeply protracted process. As Memmi argues, ‘And the day oppression ceases, the new man is supposed to emerge before our eyes immediately. Now, I do not like to say so, but I must, since decolonisation has demonstrated it: this is not the way it happens. The colonised lives for a long time before we see that really new man’ (1968). The cultural and psychological effects of colonialism, on this argument, extend well past overt colonization. Such claims have gone beyond postcolonial thinking in recent discussions of ‘decolonial theory’ and calls to decolonize curriculums and institutions that often attempt to identify elements of colonialism in the continued dominance of Western forms of institutional and intellectual life. These calls, by their very nature, stretch the concept of colonialism beyond its original meaning. The idea of a basic cultural power imbalance stemming from colonialism is most closely associated with the work of Edward Said (see p. 337). In Orientalism (1978), Said used Michel Foucault’s (see p. 83) post-structuralist approach to discourse to examine how the West used knowledge produced about the non-Western world (in this case, the Middle East) to create and continue colonial domination. Orientalism was a set of concepts, ideals and practices of knowledge used to produce knowledge. However, that knowledge both made a categorical distinction between West and non-West, and did so in a way that created a fundamental negative valuation of the latter and positive valuation of the former. As Said argues, ‘The relationship between Occident and Orient is a relationship of power, of domination, of varying degrees of a complex hegemony … The Orient was Orientalized not only because it was discovered to be “Oriental” in all those ways considered common-place by an average nineteenth-century European, but also because it could be—that is, submitted to being—made Oriental’ (1978). Orientalism accomplishes this by always describing Europe through a contrasting image or idea within the Orient. Such contrasts are based on a series of binary oppositions (rational/irrational, mind/body, order/chaos) that associate the positive term (e.g. rationality) with European civilization, and the negative (irrationality) with the nonWest. Orientalism is thus an intellectual power structure of domination, produced by the West and distributed to the world, that celebrates Western culture and denigrates others. It creates a ‘positional superiority, which puts the Westerner in a whole series of possible relationships with the Orient without ever losing him the relative upper hand’. In this way, Said’s work is an application of the general post-structuralist critique of Western rationalism to the historical construction of colonialism. What it illuminates is

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the rich critical tradition in postcolonial theory of theorizing how identity and culture continue the forms of colonial domination after the end of the explicit colonization of non-Western peoples. While providing a great deal of important inspiration and conceptual resources, postcolonialism is not the main theoretical framework or voice in political theory addressing questions of colonialism. As discussed above, because most conversations in the discipline have a fairly domestic focus, its main normative concerns has been within states, political communities and the relations between individuals, these entities and each other. The problems discussed in this book around power, citizenship, democracy and political community (amongst others) all tend to focus on the issue of political relations between states and citizens, and amongst citizens themselves. As a result, political theory, when it has addressed colonialism, has tended to focus more on the situation of settler-colonial states (e.g. Australia, Canada, the United States and New Zealand): where colonized, Indigenous peoples live within the same political communities as the descendants of settlers and immigrant communities. As noted above, indigenous political thinkers and activists were historically opposed to attempts to include them within normative frameworks of multicultural citizenship. In their view, this form of recognition made them one of many cultural minorities, ignoring their historical presence as first peoples, their unique relationship to the land, and their contestation of the legitimacy of the settler-colonial state. Similarly, these scholars have critiqued postcolonialism as ignoring the situation of settler-colonial states where the critical and normative questions are very different as the colonized people continue to live under a state defined and controlled by non Indigenous peoples. In fact, many of these scholars have been deeply critical of the reconciliation and recognition agendas that have arisen in many of these states in recent decades, arguing that any attempt to reconcile with or accept recognition from a settler state continues colonization and reproduces the domination of Indigenous peoples. For example, Audra Simpson (2014) has argued that contemporary reconciliation processes in liberal democratic states convert Indigenous peoples from groups demanding self-government to ethnic minorities. Reconciliation and recognition work within Western liberal assumptions about the sovereignty of states rather than carving out a distinctive normative political space for Indigenous peoples. She agrees with Taiaiake Alfred (2005) that ‘indigenous resurgence’ requires a more lasting transformation of settler-colonial societies, and so calls for a politics of refusal that refuses the inclusionary efforts of Western states in relation to Indigenous peoples as requiring the acceptance and continuation of colonial domination by making those groups simply members of the existing political community. Instead, refusal calls for Indigenous peoples to imagine and construct alternative practices and relations that lie outside Western norms and institutions. The most direct contribution to a political theory of indigenous politics, and the politics of refusal, is found in the work of Glen Coulthard. In Red Skin, White Masks (2014) Coulthard draws on the work of Fanon (adapting Fanon’s title to his own) to criticize the politics of recognition and reconciliation. He particularly focuses on Taylor’s vision of recognition politics, which, as discussed in Chapter 12, is aimed at some acknowledgement of the value of minority identities in ways that can legitimize their cultural survival. For Coulthard, like Simpson and Alfred, this maintains the colonial

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relationship between settler state and Indigenous peoples by allowing states to hand down forms of recognition. Coulthard argues, ‘in situations where colonial rule does not depend solely on the exercise of state violence, its reproduction instead rests on the ability to entice Indigenous peoples to identify, either implicitly or explicitly, with the profoundly asymmetrical and nonreciprocal forms of recognition either imposed on or granted to them by the settler state and society’ (2014). Instead, he notes that any attempt to remove the domination of settler-colonialism will require struggle from Indigenous peoples themselves, because ‘struggle serves as the mediating force through which the colonized come to shed their colonial identities, thus restoring them to their “proper places”’. It is only through struggling in relation to colonial oppression that Indigenous peoples can hope to remove the psychological and cultural forms of domination that continue in settler-colonialism. Such struggles involve delegitimizing the state and its relation to Indigenous peoples, and seeking recognition not from the state and non-Indigenous citizens but from a re-articulation of Indigenous cultural and political practices. However, indigenous political theory is not only characterized by refusal. Dale Turner (2006), for example, argues that the way to remove the power dynamics through which colonialism continues in settler states is through Indigenous participation in legal and political norms and institutions. For Turner, any change to the situation of Indigenous peoples requires a dialogue between Indigenous communities and both the state and non-Indigenous communities. The former thus require ‘word warriors’: members of their communities who can bring indigenous norms, voices and practices to the very process of negotiation that can, potentially, transform the relation between settlers and Indigenous peoples. In a similar vein, non-Indigenous authors have attempted to transform liberal and democratic theory in light of postcolonial and indigenous criticisms. James Tully and Duncan Ivison are the most prominent non-Indigenous thinkers working in this area. Ivison has examined the way in which indigenous politics challenge liberalism as a normative framework. For Ivison, ‘indigenous claims have attracted attention because they strike at the heart of liberal conceptions of political community and justice’ (2020). Ivison’s Postcolonial Liberalism (2002) attempts to lay out this fundamental challenge and reset the normative relationship between these groups in a model of ‘complex coexistence’ focused on normative dialogue. However, while his theory stays at an abstract level, James Tully’s (1995, 2008) has tried to supply specific institutional norms and mechanisms for reconciliation. His framework of dialogical ‘mutual recognition’ tries to reframe the Indigenous–setttler relationship, not as a hierarchy, but as a relationship between peoples: ‘On this view reconciliation is neither a form of recognition handed down to Indigenous peoples from the state nor a final settlement of some kind. It is an on-going partnership negotiated by free peoples based on principles they can both endorse and open to modification’ (Tully 2008). The viability of these transformations of liberalism and democracy is still open to question. Debates in indigenous politics in Western liberal democracies are so incredibly recent and live that their shape and direction are still unknown. What is key is that the forms of exclusion they focus on, and the challenges they bring to Western states and political communities, are profound.

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BEYOND THE WEST COMPARATIVE POLITICAL THEORY Comparative political theory is a recent and fledging area of focus in contemporary Western political thought. As its name suggests, it is focused on the task of comparison, specifically of comparing texts, thinkers, approaches and ideas within the Western tradition with those in the non-West. First named in the early 2000s, the tradition is often cast as a response to globalization and the increasingly fragile distinctions between Western and non-Western thought. As a project, it overlaps with postcolonialism’s (see p. 336) desire to give a voice to non-Western peoples, particularly through their traditions of reflection on politics. As a theoretical tradition, then, it is aimed at (at least) two key projects. First, comparative political thought attempts to decentre Western political thought as the hegemonic standard of political thinking. Second, following from this it aims to create a common, global tradition of political theory inclusive of all intellectual reflections on sociopolitical life. However, while calling for global engagement, much of the focus to date has been on the Islamic world, the Indian subcontinent (the Hindu tradition), and East Asia (particularly Daoism and Confucianism), as these have provided significant textual traditions conducive to comparison with the West. Often at the centre of debates in comparative political theory is the tense issue of methods. By what theoretical means, with what resources, and in what approach should a comparison between texts from very different traditions be engaged in common analysis? The problem here is one of power. How can a genuine comparison be made that does not privilege the theoretical assumptions and normative values of one tradition over another? If there is no neutral universal starting point, an assumption made by comparativists, how to begin on an even plane? This problem is more acute given the exclusionary history of modern Western intellectual life generally, and political theory specifically. Both have often either specifically denigrated or implicitly excluded non-Western forms of thought from its disciplines. In this, comparative political thought represents an important response to the broad accusations in the social sciences now of both the exclusionary and parochial nature of Western academic disciplines that have often assumed the sufficiency of their own models of intellectual engagement. While not going as far as calls to ‘decolonize’ Western thought, comparative political theory is motivated by an important attempt to rebalance global intellectual relations. However, the difficulty of doing comparative political thought has led to a series of criticisms. On the one hand, methodological debates in comparative political thought are still very initial and it remains unclear how two texts, traditions or thinkers with deeply diverging standards of thought can be compared except in the broadest of terms. On the other hand, others have charged that the very field relies on the assumption of siloed and distinct traditions between West and non-West and that this has not been true for many centuries. For example, Gandhi (see p. 340) is often a figure of comparison with Western texts, however, he was trained as a lawyer in the West and took on many of its norms and views, even while being critical of some of them.

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CONCLUSION The problem of exclusion and its manifestation in questions of race and colonialism presents one of the most fundamental challenges to both contemporary political theory and Western liberal democratic states. This intellectual tradition and institutional form have largely legitimized themselves through a gradual inclusion of various excluded groups. From the individualism of classical liberalism, to socialist collectivism, to democratic enfranchisement, welfare egalitarianism and nationalism, the common thread has been how to establish relations of unity and freedom amongst a diverse citizenry. Social divisions of class, culture, gender, race and colonialism have challenged these inclusive forms at various points, requiring reconstruction and adaptation. However, while none are settled, it is perhaps race and colonialism that present the most continuing challenge to political theory. With race, the question of an exclusion so systematic that the present system is incapable of enough change arises. The dramatic nature of this challenge perhaps explains the discipline’s continuing failure to dedicate attention to race. This intersects with discussions of colonialism (peoples often also racialized) where the very legitimacy of the Western political community is challenged by the refusal of Indigenous peoples. The status of this refusal, its justification, and the implications of it for contemporary thought are thus key continuing questions. Can political theory recognize and address race and colonialism? This raises several deep tensions and questions that have recurred across Chapters 12 and 13 as food for further thought on political theory and its past, present and future. First, there is a deep question over whether recognition is an adequate concept to deal with group difference and exclusion. In all these debates, it is questioned, critiqued and qualified in various ways. While the concept has persisted (maybe due to a lack of alternative), its capacity to answer the critical and normative questions of exclusion is in question. Second, there is a real turn in political theory to the question of the legacy of past oppression. In all the dimensions considered, the ongoing, subtle, pernicious and structural forms of exclusion experienced by groups over long periods has raised difficult questions about the normative importance of the past for the present. What is the appropriate normative response to claimed long-standing and deep-seated forms of exclusion when they go to the heart of our political communities? What happens when they challenge the forms of inclusion (i.e. liberal citizenship and democratic community) we otherwise value? Political theory is still struggling with these questions. Third, perhaps most overt, there is deep critical focus on liberalism. Both liberal institutions and liberal political thought have been a primary focus of this historical and contemporary work on exclusion, challenging its viability as the dominant theoretical tradition in political thought. Can liberalism adequately recognize, respond and transform considering these criticisms? Does it have a role to play in addressing them and solving them (if that is possible)? Finally, there is an associated problem of the status of Western thought itself. Perhaps only emerging in our discussion of colonialism, nonetheless all these bodies of debate seem to question whether Western thought is defined by these various exclusions. Does modernity have a fundamental problem with difference, identity and recognition that compromises its ability to guide Western liberal democratic societies? Can it be engaged with other traditions on equal terms, as in the emerging subfield of comparative political theory (see p. 344). Such questions at the very

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least call us to reappraise the modern Western project of political thought as one both aimed at a deep programme of inclusion but whose fits, starts and mistakes raise deep questions over its future.

FOCUSING ON THE TEXTS W. E. B DU BOIS’S THE SOULS OF BLACK FOLK ([1903] 2007), ‘OF OUR SPIRITUAL STRIVINGS’ The Souls of Black Folk ([1903] 2007) is one of the most significant texts in both the history of African American writing, and fundamental contributions to the development of critical perspectives on race in the Anglo-American tradition of political thinking. Written as a collection of essays, it sits between theory and the social sciences in including both philosophical reflection and deep empirical analysis. Despite this long significance, the work is also deeply embedded in his time. It is a direct response to the integrationism of Booker T. Washington, and represents Du Bois’s arguments for the political empowerment of African Americans. ‘Of Our Spiritual Strivings’ is the first and, in many ways, most famous essay. It contains a summary of his main arguments in all the essays, that equality for African Americans requires a robust cultural change in the United States that learns to value and develop the Black identity and culture. It also famously contains both the concept of ‘double-consciousness’ and his metaphor of the veil for which Du Bois is primarily known in race theory. Both together illustrate the deep inequality of African Americans, both materially and psychologically, but also the unique opportunity they represent to reform American politics. Their veil, for Du Bois, quite literally gives them a privileged critical viewpoint on America that could lead to a freer and more egalitarian society.

Demonstrative quotations 1. ‘How does it feel to be a problem?’ 2. ‘It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.’ 3. ‘One ever feels his twoness,—an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.’ 4. ‘The History of the American Negro is the history of this strive-this longing to attain selfconscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self. He simply wishes to make it possible for a man to be both a Negro and an American, without being cursed and spit upon by his fellows, without having the doors of Opportunity closed roughly in his face.’ 5. ‘Work, culture, liberty,––all these we need, not singly but together, not successively but together, each growing and aiding each, and all striving toward that vaster ideal that swims before the Negro people, the ideal of human brotherhood, gained through the unifying ideal of Race; the ideal of fostering and developing the traits and talents of the Negro, not in opposition to or contempt for other races, but rather in large conformity to the greater ideals of the American Republic.’

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Reading questions 1. What is the situation of African Americans in the United States for Du Bois? 2. What is double-consciousness? 3. How do African Americans exist behind a veil? 4. What critical lens does racial inequality offer American politics, and what are the risks?

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION yy What is race and why has political theory

had trouble discussing it? yy Should the concept of race be maintained or eliminated? yy What is global white supremacy and is this a good idea to explain racial injustice? yy What challenge does the colonial past present to Western citizenship?

yy Is liberalism compromised by its partial past complicity with colonialism?

yy What is the politics of refusal and is it a

coherent response to colonial exclusion? yy How do race and colonialism challenge the future of political theory?

FURTHER READING Eze, E. (ed.) Race and the Enlightenment: A Reader (1997). A powerful collection of readings from major modern political thinkers where they discuss race and themes around modernity. Kohn, M. and McBride, K. Political Theories of Decolonization: Postcolonialism and the Problem of Foundations (2011). A rare indepth examination of the significance of postcolonial theory for political theory.

Levy, F. and Young, I. (eds) Colonialism and Its Legacies (2011). One of the few edited collections In political theory entirely dedicated to colonialism with a host of contributions from central voices In the field. Rattansi, A. Racism: A Very Short Introduction (2007). A comprehensive introduction to the concepts of race and racism.

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INDEX Notes: bolded term = term has boxed feature; bolded page numbers = extended discussion or term highlighted in text in these pages; b = boxed feature on this term in bolded page numbers (‘Beyond the West’, ‘Focusing on the Texts’, ‘Thinker’, ‘Thinking Globally’, and ‘Tradition’ boxes) absolutism 47–48b, 67, 74, 112–13, 130, 139–40b; see also Hobbes accountability 115, 189, 190–1, 201, 265 Adorno, Theodor 78–9 affirmative action 277 agency 19, 61, 75, 134, 157, 176 versus structure 39, 44, 58, 59, 73 agonism 64, 108, 187, 192, 209; see also democracy: radical Alfred, Taiaiake 342 alienation 89, 158, 172, 211, 252 Althusser, Louis 95–6 altruism 18, 56, 171, 291 Analects (Confucius) 86 analytic philosophy 182; see also Berlin, Isaiah; Rawls, John; Nozick, Robert; Anglo-American thought; continental philosophy anarchism socialist or communist 34–5, 51–2, 61, 89, 104, 114, 143–45, 149, 151, 166, 187, 247–48, 251, 277 individualist 35, 53, 104, 144, 260 anarcho-capitalism 35, 114, 246, 260–61, 284 eco-anarchism 180–81; see also libertarianism; socialism; Marxism; Anarchy, State and Utopia (Nozick, 1974) 246, 284 Ancient Greek political thought 48–9, 50, 63, 105, 156–57, 159, 185, 187–88, 235, 272; see also Aristotle, Plato, Socrates Anderson, Benedict 112, 224, 228 Anglo-American thought 22, 26, 28, 30, 36, 55, 74, 82, 96, 103, 131, 142, 146, 182, 187, 209, 323, 331, 335, 346 Animal Liberation (Singer, 1995) 23, 179 animal rights 23, 179–80 anomie 56; see also alienation anti-foundational perspectives 8–9, 12, 36–7, 39, 80 anti-Semitism 233 Appiah, Anthony 332 Aquinas, Thomas 7, 57, 103, 133–4b Archibugi, Daniele 236 Arendt, Hannah 24, 88, 89b, 106 aristocracy 28–29, 63, 101, 107, 154, 292 Aristotle 7, 57, 89, 90, 101b, 103, 105–7, 133, 185, 247, 272, 279, 284 Arrow, Kenneth 208 ‘Asian Values’ 177–8b assimiliation 141, 232, 322, 315; see also multiculturalism atomistic view 37, 63, 275 Augustine of Hippo 31, 120, 121b, 134, 272 Austin, John (1790–1859) 122, 134 authoritarianism 49, 57, 61, 84, 86, 142, 147, 150–151, 196, 265

authority arguments against 53, 89–90, 104, 114, 143–4, 150–3, 260 argument for limited authority 87–8, 237 argument from need 88, 151 as expertise 84–5, 198 charismatic 85–6 democratic 190, 201, 205, 210–11 justification 74, 87–90, 96 legal-rational 87, 93, 121, 130 of the state or sovereign 111–12, 120–1, 123–5, 145–7 relation to legitimacy 90, 97,1 relation to power 72, 83–5, 97, 100, 121 traditional 27, 85; 140, 142, 177–8 types 59, 85–7; see also Confuscianism and authority; legitimacy; power; social contract tradition; sovereignty; Weber, Max; autonomy (see liberty) Bachrach, P. and M. Baratz 75–6 Bakunin, Michael 61, 89, 114, 149 Ball, Terence 72 Bangkok Declaration (1993) 177 Barber, Benjamin 187, 322 Barry, Brian 164, 204, 304–5, 318 Beetham, David 25, 91 behaviourism 5, 74 Bell, Derrick 333 Bentham, Jeremy 21, 22, 50, 62, 92, 134, 175, 179, 193, 206 Berlin, Isaiah 8, 35–6, 165, 169b, 170–2, 182 Bernier, Francois 328 Bernstein, Eduard 23, 34, 195 Beveridge, William 281, 289 bills of rights 131, 175 Birth of Biopolitics (Foucault, 1978–1979) 109 Black Skin, White Masks (Fanon, 1952) 330–1 Bloch, Ernst 34 Blum, Lawrence 332 Bodin, Jean 113, 120, 125, 140 Bonilla-Silva, Eduardo 333–4 Bookchin, Murray 114, 181 Buddhist thought Buddhist economics 181, 253b Buddhist doctrine of No-self 51, 54b in ecology 179, 181, 249 Bureaucracy 12, 85, 87, 103, 189, 192, 252, 262, 266–7 Burke, Edmund 20, 27, 28b, 29–30, 49, 50, 141, 198–9, 287, 310 Burnham, James 115

362

INDEX 363 Capital (Marx) 35, 248, 259, 263, 339 capitalism advocates 35, 37–38, 53, 70, 116, 167, 170, 190, 192, 247, 256–8, 260–1 history and concept 26, 244, 246, 253–60 reform and regulation 23, 25, 34, 161, 194–5, 280–1, 293 socialist and critical analysis 18, 23, 34, 49, 51–52, 65, 77–9, 81, 93–5, 132, 144, 172, 180, 192, 249, 258–60, 263, 267–8, 280, 309, 339 markets versus planning 264–7; see also global capitalism Capitalism and Freedom (Friedman, 1962) Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (Schumpeter, [1944] 1994) 115 categorical imperative 230, 235 censorship 168, 220–1 centralization 7, 147, 199, 252 charisma; see under authority: charismatic checks and balances 93, 118, 123, 131, 190–1, 196, 197 Chesterton, G. K. 27 Chomsky, Noam 94 Christian thought 7, 31, 66, 121, 272, 291 citizenship active or social 160–2, 310 concept 111–12, 145, 156–60, 181, 195, 226, 227, 299, 302, 314, 316, 321, 323 democratic 195, 292 differentiated/multicultural 159, 164, 303, 315–19, 318, 320, 342 formal 163–4, 169, 221 freedom 165–73, 182 racial and colonial critique 326–7, 333–7, 340 rights 173–80, 292 ‘second-class’ 158, 161, 163 universal 162–5, 275, 300, 303–5, 308, 310, 326; see also obligations and duties; rights; global citizenship; freedom; nationalism Citizenship and Social Class (Marshall, [1950] 1997) 158, 160 City of God (Augustine) 31, 121, 272 civic virtue 49, 107, 159 civil disobedience 151–53 civil rights movements 151, 161, 163 civil society 18, 106, 108–9, 111, 116–118, 158, 186–7, 190–1, 248, 253 civilization 17, 19–20, 338, 340–1 class bourgeoisie 65, 77, 94, 114, 249 conflict/struggle 25, 59, 64–5, 94, 268, 339 consciousness or solidarity 60, 65, 78, 81, 94 divides 64–5 middle class 33, 101, 195, 277, 313 peasantry 24, 52, 104, 195, 263, 266 working class/proletariat 23–4, 35, 65, 78, 81, 94, 198, 202–3, 249–50, 268, 292 ‘classless society’ 57, 109, 249, 305 climate change 76, 208, 209 coercion 83–4, 90–1, 112, 116, 130, 143–5, 150, 182, 196; see also power Cohen, Joshua 209 collectivism 43, 53–4, 60–1, 281, 302 colonialism challenge to Western political thought 335, 338 effects and exclusions 80–1, 132, 143, 150, 299, 224–5, 225, 227, 326–7, 334–45

legitimization 137, 338–9 liberal opposition 339 Marxist views 227, 250, 339–40 responses of colonized 119, 191, 319, 330–1, 340; see also postcolonialism; exclusion; settlercolonialism; indigenous politics ‘colour-blind’ 317, 333–4 commodities 172, 245 258–9, 322, 339 common good, the 57, 90, 101, 106, 113, 121, 128, 148, 159, 185, 187, 194, 198, 203–11 Common Sense (Paine, 1776) 199 communism 25, 32, 34–5, 249, 262–3, 265–6, 268, 280 Communist Manifesto (Marx and Engels) 34, 114, 143, 249, 258, 268b communitarianism 57b, 101, 194, 293 comparative political theory 86, 344–5b Concept of the Political (Schmitt, 1927) 142 conflict 24, 32, 34–6, 46, 62–4, 67, 75–6, 78, 82, 89, 104, 108–10, 113, 125, 143–4, 193, 196, 203–4, 229, 248, 252, 273, 319, 339 Confucianism and Authority 86b Connolly, William E. 192, 298 consent implicit 27, 92, 148 as contract 47, 53, 63, 74, 146–8, 150 personal 220 source of legitimacy 87–8, 91–93, 118, 190 conservatism 28–30, 49–50, 56–7, 63, 82, 87–8, 106, 138–41, 142–3b, 149–50, 158, 161, 220, 227, 146–7, 249, 258, 276–7, 283, 285–7, 291–2, 295; see also New Right Considerations on the Government of Poland (Rousseau, 1782) 226 Constant, Benjamin 108, 165 constitutionalism 91–3, 113, 129, 132, 190 Continental theory/philosophy 82, 90, 96, 118, 131 cooperation 31, 50–4, 57, 60, 104, 144–5, 149, 178, 229, 230, 251, 254, 259, 296–7 Cornell, Drucilla 313 cosmopolitan democracy 199, 201b, 236 cosmopolitanism 33, 62, 160, 199, 201, 230–7, 234, 235b cosmopolitan political community 233–7 moral vs. political cosmopolitanism 234; see also globality; world society; global governance; world law; global citizenship; global social justice Coulthard, Glen 132, 321, 342–3 Crick, Bernard 189 crisis 35, 37, 79, 91, 178, 180–1, 220, 256, 259, 260, 293, 339c critical race theory (CRT) 65, 326–335 critical theory 78–9b, 88, 96, 153, 249–50, 267, 302, 304–6, 333 Crito (Plato) 146 Crosland, Anthony 195, 293 cultural globalization 231, 321, 322b culture 8, 12, 59, 65, 137–8, 141–4, 159, 163–5, 177, 195, 214–15, 219–21, 222–8, 232–7, 277, 279–80, 290, 314–23 critique of concept 317–18 exclusion and recognition 300–7, 316–18 source of meaning 315–17; see also exclusion, recognition, multiculturalism, nationalism, tradition customs; see tradition

364 INDEX Dahl, Robert 74–5, 115, 188, 206 Daoism and Natural Harmony 144–5b Darwin, Charles 38, 44–5, 51–2 De Beauvoir, Simone, 46, 79, 311, 314b de Maistre, Joseph 28, 140, 151 Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen (1789) 176, 274 decolonization 225, 331, 336, 341, 344 Delgado, Richard 333 demagoguery 86, 88 democracy 96, 132, 171, 184–211, 216 classical conceptions 105, 186 critiques 192, 195–6 deliberative 92, 122, 187, 209–10 developmental 193–4 direct 23, 31, 92, 186–9 elitist 188, 190–1 indirect 186, 189, 198–199 justifications 193–4 Marxist views 192 participative 106 pluralist 190–1, 197, 206, 209 protective 193 radical (see also agonism) 64, 108, 192–3 representative 118 social and rational choice theory 206, 208–9 totalitarian 196; see also representation; liberal democracy; republicanism; social democracy; Democracy in African Thought; Cosmopolitan Democracy; Democratic Theory Democracy and Political theory (Lefort, 1988) 210 Democracy in African Political Thought 191b Democratic Theory 171, 186, 187–8b, 189–211 Derrida, Jacques 12, 83, 153 despotism 27, 216, 49, 120, 137, 150, 193, 338 development 18, 20, 31–2, 39, 45, 49, 52, 108, 129, 137, 172–3, 177, 193–4, 224, 263–4, 280, 291, 336, 338–9 Devlin, Patrick 137–8, 141 Dicey, AV 120, 131 dictatorship/autocracy 119, 123, 139–40, 152, 220 difference 73, 79, 141, 159 ‘politics of difference’ 218–19, 301, 300–7, 314 vs. equality 45–6, 65, 159, 162–5, 179 vs. tolerance 217–19; see also equality; exclusion; identity; multiculturalism; recognition; toleration dignity 53, 134, 162, 303 disability 163–4, 174, 177 discipline 119, 138–42 discourse 81–2, 86, 90, 96, 341 Discourse on Inequality (Rousseau, 1754) 143, 166, 248 Discrimination 158, 215, 218, 221, 274–5, 304, 306, 317, 319, 340 positive discrimination 164, 178, 277; see also exclusion distribution of wealth and income 64, 108, 169, 172–3, 226, 243, 246–9, 259, 261, 265–6, 271, 273, 276, 278–90, 293–5; vs. recognition 304–7, 323, 334, 340; see also inequality diversity 33, 36, 66, 93, 137, 202, 224, 315, 318, 320–1 citizenship 162–5 toleration 217–21; see also difference; exclusion; multiculturalism; toleration divine right of kings 74, 92, 130, 140, 173

domination 71–4, 79–82, 85, 93–7, 109–10, 114–16, 150, 166–7, 192, 229, 295, 307, 311, 333, 337, 339–43 Douglass, Frederick 329–30 Downs, Anthony 207–9 Du Bois, W.E.B. 329–30, 332, 346b Durkheim, Emile 56 Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts (Marx) 35, 263 economic determinism 58–9 economic growth 262–3 economic planning 252, 262–66 economic value 264–5 indicative planning 263 inefficiency critique 257, 266 political and moral critique 266–7 political and moral value 265 process 262–4; see also the market; socialism; Marxism; communism; central planning egalitarianism 234, 265, 270, 272, 276–7, 279, 282–4, 292, 294–5, 305–6, 233, 345; see also equality egoism; see individualism and libertarianism electoral systems 200–2 elite theory 58, 64, 74, 114–15, 192, 196, 277 elitism 190–1 emancipation 32, 35, 157, 179, 253, 274–5, 304–5, 307 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 55 emotion 48–9, 202, 229, 248, 311–12 empire 29, 95, 226–8, 336; see also imperialism empiricism 5–6, 8, 10, 44, 102 Engels, Friedrich 24, 35, 49, 77–8, 94, 129, 192, 248–50, 254, 259, 262–3 Enlightenment, the 7, 31, 33, 36, 48–9, 82, 90, 160, 169, 205, 228, 235, 337, 339 Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals (Hume, 1751) 279 environmental political thought 180b; see also Buddhist economics; climate change epistemology 20, 333, 335 equality 271–97 ancient views 195, 272 cultural-political 301–2, 317, 319 early modern concept 272–4 equality and freedom 166, 168 equality of opportunity 161, 194, 258, 276–7 equality of outcome 172, 277–9 equal rights 160, 168, 274–5, 277, 309, 312 formal/legal equality 93, 132, 163, 169, 179, 253, 274–5 inequality justification 63, 195, 272, 277–9, 284–7, 293–4 inequality origins 143, 161, 248, 254 moral 234 natural and foundational 67, 176, 274 political 158, 164–5, 190, 192, 211, 217 racial 202, 327–40 relative vs. absolute 278 sex equality 159, 178, 202, 275, 308–15, 319 social/economic 53, 55, 143, 160–1, 192, 194–5, 247, 259, 263, 267; vs. difference/recognition 304–6, 312–13, 318 see also exclusion, social justice, socialism; welfare essentially contested concepts 11, 113, 165, 280 ethics of care 45, 312 ethnicity 65–6, 164–5, 223–4, 229, 236, 315, 317–20

INDEX 365 European Union 124, 229 exclusion 299–343 colonialism 202, 335–45 culture 218, 314–22 gender 45–6, 79, 109, 202, 307–14 identity 163, 300–7 race 202, 220, 327–35 forms of exclusion 299; see also difference; identity; recognition; toleration executive (government) 107, 114, 118–19, 154, 199, 211, 252, 268 fairness 27, 45, 247, 276, 282–3, 296–7 family, the 18, 57, 63, 85, 105–6, 109, 141, 170, 177–8, 277, 309, 312 Fanon, Frantz 329–30, 331b, 339–42 fascism 29, 45, 56, 58, 63, 85, 108, 152, 196, 205, 229 Federalist Papers (Madison, 1787–8) 113, 190, 197 femininity 79, 311 feminism 33, 45–6, 49, 57, 60, 79, 109, 132, 143, 159, 165, 168, 180–1, 188, 202, 220–1, 275, 304–14, 320, 323 black 313 difference vs. equality 45, 312–13 first-wave 275, 304 ‘gender-critical’ 221 liberal 309, 312 radical 9, 309, 314 recognition and gender 311–13 relational 312 second-wave 309, 311–12 standpoint 312 third-wave 311–13 vs. multiculturalism 165, 320; see also gender feudalism 37, 130, 245, 268 Filmer, Sir Robert 140 ‘forced to be free’ 205 Foucault, Michel 80–3, 90, 109–10, 141, 293–5, 341 foundationalism 8–9, 12, 20, 80, 82 Frankfurt School, the 78–9, 96, 249, 267, 272, 333; see also critical theory Fraser, Nancy 82, 302, 305–6 Freeden, Michael 96, 183 freedom 24, 32, 34–5, 43, 47, 78, 79, 81, 118, 157–8 economic 53, 116, 167, 192, 247–8, 257–8 free speech 166, 168, 216–17, 219 free will 48, 137, 165 individual 48, 63, 136–7, 167–8, 230, 260–1 license vs liberty 166–7 limits 166–8, 277–8 national 124, 226–7, 229 negative vs. positive 107, 161, 165, 169–73, 182–3 non-interference/negative 37–8, 106, 139, 161, 165, 169–71, 274 non-domination 79, 107, 124, 166–7 positive/social 53, 61, 89 107, 160–1, 165, 171–3, 187, 194, 205, 281, 287–9, 292, 316 toleration of difference 215–19 free trade 37–8, 229 Freud, Sigmund 50, 78, 249 Friedan, Betty 309 Friedman, Milton 38, 59, 116, 167, 170, 255, 257–8, 265, 267, 288, 294 friend and enemy distinction 108, 142 Fukuyama, Francis 190 Functionalism 63

Galbraith, J. K. 115–6, 259 Galeotti, Anna E. 221, 239 Gallie, W. B. 11 Garvey, Marcus 337 Gellner, Ernest 223–4 gender and sex 45–6, 79, 81, 159, 181, 221, 275, 298–313, 322–3, 332 sex-gender distinction 307; see also difference; exclusion; feminism General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money (Keynes, [1936] 1965) 260, 281 general will 90, 92, 106, 122–3, 147–8, 186, 194, 205–6, 226 German Ideology (Marx) 77, 94, 259, 263 Geuss, Raymond 88, 153 Gandhi, Mahatma 151, 336, 340b, 344 Giddens, Anthony 54 Gilligan, Carol 45, 312 global capitalism, 95, 256b, 267, 295, 339 global citizenship 159, 160b, 231 global governance 117b, 235 global hegemony 94–5b global social justice 235, 283, 286b global white supremacy 334–5b globality 33b, 62, 231 globalization 33, 94, 160, 201, 222, 227, 231–7, 256, 259, 286, 315, 321–2, 344 Godwin, William 35, 104, 144, 275 good life, the 32, 57, 82, 101, 105, 133, 176 governance 116–17, 201, 232, 235 government 99–127 forms of government 101; see also authority; citizenship; democracy; law; legitimacy; power; the state ‘government of the people’ 186 governmentality 293–5 Gramsci, Antonio 78, 94–5, 250 green politics see environmental political thought Green, T. H. 53, 108, 172, 281, 292 Grotius, Hugo 62, 92 Gutiérrez, Gustavo 291 Habermas, Jürgen 78–9, 81–2, 92, 96, 209 happiness 21–2, 50, 54, 56, 80, 92, 148, 150, 176, 206, 235, 287–8 Hardin, Garrett 251 harm principle 136–8, 167–9, 219–21 extension 138, 301–2, 315, 318, 323 harmony 32, 37, 63, 104, 138, 143–5, 177–8, 204, 224, 228, 251, 279 Hart, H. L. A. 134, 145 Hayek, Friedrich 54, 59, 63, 116, 247, 257, 261, 265–67, 279, 288 Hegel, G. W. F. 18b, 89, 103, 106, 108, 182, 222, 263, 288–9, 321 hegemony 80, 91, 93–6, 250 Heidegger, Martin 82–3, 89 Herder, Johann Gottfried 228 Hindu thought 179, 181, 336, 340, 344 historicism 19, 39, 125, 143 Hitler, Adolf 58, 85–6, 220 Hobbes, Thomas 19, 46–8, 50, 67–8b, 73–4, 87, 92, 103, 108, 111, 113, 120–1, 125, 134–5, 138–9, 142, 146–8, 150–1, 170, 272 Hobhouse, L. T. 53, 292 Hobsbawm, Eric J. 224–5 Hobson, J. A. 292, 339

366 INDEX Hohfeld, Wesley 174 Honneth, Axel 78, 302, 305 hooks, bell 313 Horkheimer, Max 78–9 Human Condition (Arendt, 1958) 89, 106 human nature 42–67, 106, 126, 140, 142, 153, 195–6, 249, 303 community vs. individuals 35, 52–64, 204, 250, 281–2 competition vs. cooperation 34, 50–2, 74, 139, 143, 145, 230 existence vs. essence 43–4, 311 homo economicus 50, 254 homo faber 46 intellect versus instinct 48–50 nature versus nurture 44–6, 312 perfectibility of human nature 35, 147 racialization 329 social divisions 64–6 humanitarian intervention 124, 136, 235 social justice 286 Hume, David 45, 65, 279, 284, 329 ideal types 11–12, 85–7 idealism 18, 34–5, 108, 168, 230 identity collective/social 50, 56, 60–1, 88, 141, 162–5, 203, 218, 251, 282, 301 concept 81, 159, 300–7, 322–4 cosmopolitan/human 79, 231, 233–4, 236 ethnic/cultural 65, 303, 314–22 gender and sex 307, 311–13 human 79, 301 hybridity 233–4, 305, 315, 317 indigenous and colonial 343 national and citizen 60, 112, 141–2, 157, 159, 162–5, 221–31, 234, 236 personal 52, 81, 301 racial 327, 329–30, 332, 337, 346; see also culture; gender; difference; exclusion; nationalism; race; recognition; toleration ‘identity politics’ 64, 154, 221, 298–325 ideology Marxian concept 78–81, 91, 93–5, 151, 249–50, 259 non-critical approaches 95–6 ‘non-ideological politics’ 142 origin of term 93 rejection of concept 96 ‘imagined communities’; see under nations imperialism 229, 236, 321–2, 337, 339 see also colonialism, postcolonialism Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism (Lenin, 1916) 339 In a Different Voice (Gilligan, 1982) 312 In Defence of Politics (Crick, [1962] 2000) 127 inclusion 9, 163, 203, 210, 222, 290, 301, 318, 321, 327, 329, 331–2, 342, 345–6; see also citizenship; democracy; equality; exclusion; political community; recognition Indigenous peoples as First Nations 225b Indigenous politics 132, 164, 191, 202, 209, 224–5, 306, 320, 320–1, 335–43; see also postcolonialism; settler-colonialism; recognition; exclusion individualism 52–6, 230, 303, 309, 322 anti-individualism 56–8 anti-statist 52, 55, 161–2, 261 developmental 53

egoistical 18, 37, 50, 56, 89, 139, 204, 255, 258, 261, 274, 281 ethical 230, 234 individualism and collectivism 43–5, 49, 51, 53–4, 57, 59–63, 66, 149, 281, 178, 281, 302 individuality 52 methodological vs normative 50; 54–5, 58; see also anarchism; freedom; human nature; liberalism; libertarianism; property individuals 52–9 atomized vs embedded 56–7, 285 institutions and society 59 inequality; see equality insecurity; see security institutionalism 103 interest groups 64, 206 international relations 5, 62, 125, 136; see also political community; sovereignty; internationalism 230, 234; see also cosmopolitanism intersubjectivity 57, 303 invisible hand 35, 63, 254–5; see also the market Islamic State 119b Islamic thought 28, 66, 101, 119, 336–7, 344 Ivison, Duncan 343 Jefferson, Thomas 63, 134, 176, 197 judiciary 131, 135, 175, 190 justice; see law; social justice Justice as Fairness: A Restatement (Rawls, 2001) 282–3, 296b Kant, Immanuel 45, 47, 65, 78, 90, 134, 148, 160, 228–9, 230b, 234–5, 329 Kautsky, Karl 192 Keynes, John Maynard 38, 59, 260, 269, 281 Khomeini, Ayatollah 66, 337 King, Martin Luther Jr. 151 Kristeva, Julia 50 Kristol, Irving 56, 141, 143 Kropotkin, Peter 51–2b, 57, 104, 144, 149 Kymlicka, Will 164, 180, 315–17, 319–20, 335 labour theory of value 38, 249 Laclau, Ernesto 65, 96 laissez-faire economics 22, 37–8, 53, 170, 255, 260 language and meaning 9–12, 82 Laozi (Lao Tzu) 144 law 128–138 international and supranational 124, 134–6, 161, 227, 234 justifying law-breaking 151–3 liberty 136–8 obligation to obey 145–53 and order 129, 138–41, 144 vs. justice 151–3, 155 natural vs. positive 133–5 world law 135–6b; see also rule of law leadership 58, 84–6, 88, 97, 100, 102–4, 112, 119, 125–6, 191, 196, 208; see also authority; power; legitimacy Lefort, Claude 210 Leftwich, Adrian 100, 108, 127 left/right divide 244, 270 legacy of oppresion 80, 225, 299, 308, 329, 335, 338, 341, 345

INDEX 367 legal realism 135 legal systems 119, 129, 131–2, 135, 145 legislature 118, 123–4, 132, 139, 211 legitimacy 71–2, 90–8 consent arguments 91–3 custom argument 27 critical and explanatory approaches 91, 93–6 democratic 184, 196–7, 209–10, 213, 235 legitimacy as ideological hegemony 93–5 link to power and authority 71–2, 83, 90, 96–7 normative approaches 90–1 postcolonial challenge 326–7, 335, 342, 345 utilitarian arguments 92; see also authority; constitutionalism; power; the state legitimate force 102 legitimation crises 91 Lenin, V. I. 59, 78, 109, 114, 192, 250, 262, 339 Leopold, David 15, 95 Letter 8 from Oeuvres Completas (Rousseau) 166 Letter Concerning Toleration (Locke, [1689] 1963) 216–17, 237b Leviathan (Hobbes) 47–8, 67–8b, 74, 103, 111, 120, 139, 147 liberal democracy 93, 114, 115, 186–7, 189–93 197, 200, 207, 210, 250, 298 liberalism classical liberalism 22, 37–8b, 45, 47, 51, 55, 63, 142, 167, 246, 260–1, 265, 269, 280–1, 287, 345 exclusion critiques 302–5, 312, 315, 318–23, 334, 336, 338–9, 343 modern liberalism 18, 22, 38, 52–3, 81, 106, 108, 136, 142–3, 160–1, 169–73, 194, 274, 276, 279, 280–1b, 283, 288, 290, 292, 295, 299 ‘market liberalism’ (see neoliberalism); see also Berlin, Isaiah; Locke, John; Mill, John Stuart; Kant, Immanuel; Smith, Adam Liberalism, Community, and Culture (Kymlicka, 1989) 316 liberation theology 51, 290, 291b libertarianism 51, 53, 61, 89, 161, 246, 260–1b, 269 liberty (see freedom) ‘life, liberty and property’ 48, 66, 90, 122, 131, 150, 176, 178, 216–17 limited government 52, 118, 142, 158, 178, 190, 253 Lincoln, Abraham 186 Lindblom, Charles 115–16 Locke, Alain 329 Locke, John 35, 45–8, 66, 87, 90, 92, 103, 107, 113, 122, 130–1, 134, 146–7, 150, 166, 170, 176, 193, 216, 217b, 221, 237–8b, 245–6, 249, 251, 254, 272–5, 284, 338 Louis XIV (King of France) 111, 122, 139 Lukes, Steven 11, 68, 73, 76–7, 80, 93, 95, 98 Luxemburg, Rosa 192 Macaulay, Thomas 18 MacCallum, G. C. 173 Machiavelli, Niccolò 19, 102, 104b, 125–6b, 196 MacIntyre, Alasdair 57 Mackinnon, Catherine A. 275, 309 Macpherson, C. B. 53, 187, 189, 245, 250, 285 Madison, James 113, 190, 196, 197b Man Versus the State (1884) 38, 44 Mandeville, Bernard 255 Mao Zedong 24–5b, 86 Maoist Revolutionary Tradition 24–5b Marcuse, Herbert 25, 32, 34, 50, 78–9, 218

market, the efficiency 116, 247, 251–2, 257, 261, 287 freedom and democracy 116, 167, 170, 257–8, 267, 339 idea of the market 254–5 ideal 256–8 impurity 260 mixed economy (see social welfare) monopoly critique 259–60 morality 258 normative critiques 259, 171 overproduction critique 259, 339 responsiveness to need 257, 259–60 self-regulation 35, 65 254–5, 259–60, 261, 265; see also economic planning Marshall, T. H. 158–61 Marx, Karl 17–19, 24, 34–5, 38, 46, 49, 59, 64, 77, 93–4, 109, 114, 129, 132, 143, 172, 179, 192, 248, 249b, 251, 254, 258–9, 262, 263b, 268b, 269, 274–5, 278, 280, 301, 339 Marxism 249b, 263b, 268b classical 81, 114, 151, 170 class and inequality 57, 64–5, 77, 81, 114, 273, 278–9, 291, 295, 305 critiques 23, 61, 74, 96 democracy 186–7, 192, 194–5, 199 exclusion and identity 305, 309, 336, 339–40 foundationalist metanarrative 36, 80 freedom and rights 170, 179, 275 historical materialism 18, 34–5, 46, 109, 263, 268 Marxism-Leninism 24–5, 227 means of production 65, 248, 251–2 neo-Marxism 34, 78–9, 93, 95–6 on ideology (see under ideology) Orthodox 58–9, 78 post-Marxism 80, 96 primitive accumulation 248 property and markets 248–9, 256, 259, 262, 267, 295 state power 80, 91, 114–15, 151 superstructure 109, 132, 249 surplus value 64, 249, 251 utopian features 34–5, 143–4 see also communism; critical theory; global capitalism, socialism masses, the 25, 64, 101, 139, 159, 185, 187, 192, 196, 198, 210, 292 Maurras, Charles 229 Mazzini, Giuseppe 228 McCarthy, Joseph 220 McClain, Linda 312 McLuhan, Marshall 62 means and ends 8, 10, 36, 40, 169, 204, 230, 235 media 62, 85–6, 224 Meinecke, Friedrich 223 Memmi, Albert 241 Merchant, Carolyn 181 meritocracy 86, 276–7 metanarratives 82 metaphysics 20, 179, 230, 253, 283 methodology in political inquiry 5–12, 38–9, 50, 52, 54–5, 58, 72–5, 78, 236, 344 Michels, Roberts 115, 196 Miliband, Ralph 93 military government 119 military-industrial complex 115 Mill, James 22, 168

368 INDEX Mill, John Stuart 22, 27, 45, 49, 106, 136–7, 144, 167, 168b, 172, 193, 196, 198–9, 216–17, 226, 275, 285, 310–11, 329, 338–9 Miller, David 280 Millett, Kate 109 Mills, C Wright 115 Mills, Charles 48, 332–3, 334–5 Minogue, Kenneth 36 minorities elite 64, 196 excluded groups 23, 161, 163, 202, 219–21, 275, 277, 303, 307, 314–15, 319, 321–3, 327, 330, 332–3, 342 rights 164–5, 174, 178, 225, 303, 319–20 versus dominant majority 132, 138, 152, 159, 164, 188, 191, 196, 304, 317 See also difference; exclusion; identity; multiculturalism; recognition; toleration Mitchell, Juliet 309 mixed economies see social welfare mob rule 185 modernity 7, 14, 17–21, 29, 38–40, 47, 52, 82, 88, 140, 161, 195, 203–4, 243, 258, 319, 333, 345 modernization 20, 66, 86, 236, 262 Modood, Tariq 224, 317, 321 Monarchy 74, 101, 130, 154 absolutist monarchy 28–9, 139–40 constitutional monarchy 24, 85, 107, 150, 217 see also absolutism, republicanism money 254–5, 260, 294 monism 36, 169 Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de Secondat 47, 107, 113–14, 118, 154b moral duties; see under obligations and duties morality 81, 102, 128, 130, 133–8, 141, 143–53, 166, 174–5, 220, 226–7, 230, 254 More, Thomas 30 Mosca, Gaetano 115, 196 Motherhood 313 Mouffe, Chantal 65, 96, 192, 210 Multicultural Citizenship (Kymlicka, 1995) 315–21, 342 multiculturalism 226, 234, 305, 314–15b, 316–19, 323 democratic feminist critiques 165, 306, 320 rights see under culture postcolonial and Indigenous critiques 320–1, 325 poststructuralist critiques 321 vs. liberalism 164–5, 318–21 see also difference; exclusion; identity; recognition; toleration multinationalism 66, 159, 222 Murray, Charles 293 Mussolini, Benito 58, 85, 108 mutual aid 51–2 mutualism 34 Napoleon Bonaparte 86, 229 Nation’s Problem (Douglass, 1886) 329–30 national interest; see common or public good national/international divide 120 nationalism 8, 227–8b Black 329, 337 civic vs ethnic 65, 224 critiques 49, 229, 234–5 ethical 227 liberal 57, 222, 226–9, 236 minority 320

multicultural 66, 164, 224 nationalism and the world 60, 125, 199, 201, 228–9 postcolonial 191, 202, 224–6, 315, 335–6, 340; see also cosmopolitanism; nations nationalization nations 213–15, 221–8 economic policy 252, 291–2 ‘end-of ’ nation-states 231–3, 236 ethno-symbolism and primordialist theory 223–4 identity 141–2, 159, 224, 236, 317–21 ‘imagined communities’ (modernist theory) 112, 224 nation-states 111, 159, 189, 201 ‘national sovereignty’ 124–5 value of nation-states 201, 225–7; see also citizenship; imagined communities; First Nations; nationalism Nazism 29, 45, 65, 88–9, 142, 220, 229, 288 neoconservatism 88, 141–2, 220, 288 neoliberalism 37, 51, 56, 95, 116, 125, 142, 161–2, 246, 261, 284, 288, 295; see also liberalism, libertarianism, New Right New Deal 292 New Left (from 1960s) 34, 50, 187 New Right 29, 38, 55–6, 61, 142, 161, 173, 293–4; see also conservatism, neoliberalism New View of Society (Owens, [1816] 2013) 34, 46 Nicomachean Ethics (Aristotle) 101 non-political 100, 105–6, 109, 152, 159, 238, 253 non-violent resistance (satyagraha) 151, 340 Nozick, Robert 167, 246b, 247, 284–5 Nussbaum, Martha 235–6, 312 Oakeshott, Michael 20, 26–7, 35, 106, 141–3 obligations and duties 129, 145–53 contractual 47, 74, 146–8 legal vs moral 145, 175 national 226–7 natural 149 reciprocal 159, 163, 293 social duties 47, 142, 148–9 mutual benefit 146, 148 unconditonal 135, 147, 151 universal 230–1, 234–5, 283, 286, 292 see also legitimacy ‘Of National Characters’ (Hume [1748] 2018) 65, 329 Okin, Susan 165, 308, 312 oligarchy 101, 196, 208 ‘On Being Conservative’ (Oakeshott, [1962] 1991) 26 On Liberty (Mill, [1859] 1972) 136–7, 167–9, 216, 338–9 On Revolution (Arendt, 1963b) 24, 89 On the Jewish Question (Marx, 1844) One-Dimensional Man (Marcuse, 1964) 25, 78 O’Neill, Onora 234–5 ontology 44, 48, 145, 328, 332 oppression 9, 34, 71, 79, 89, 94, 114, 151, 163, 167, 176, 181, 194, 218, 250, 267, 273, 274, 291, 299, 302, 306–13, 328, 330, 332, 334, 337–41, 343, 345; see also authority; exclusion; power order 138–9 order as social control 139–41 order as natural harmony 143–5 organicism 57, 60, 62, 63; 64, 140–2, 149, 180–1 see also conservatism; environmental political thought; fascism Orientalism (Said) 80, 336–7, 341–2

INDEX 369 original position 47, 148, 282, 296–7, 312 original sin 103, 121, 134, 139 Origins of Totalitarianism (Arendt, 1951) 88–9 Ortega y Gasset, José 196 Other, the 79, 311 Owen, Robert 31, 34–5, 46, 57 ownership; see property Paine, Thomas 27, 31, 37, 107, 199 Parekh, Bhikhu 66–7, 159, 214, 219, 301, 316, 321 Pareto, Vilfredo 115, 196, 257 particularism 45, 300, 301, 303, 323 Pateman, Carole 47, 79, 187–8, 308, 332 Paternalism 137–8, 142, 171, 292 patriarchalism 85, 140 patriarchy 45, 79, 109, 143, 180, 202, 275, 308–9, 334 Peace of Westphalia 124 Perpetual Peace (Kant, 1795) 229, 234–5 personal is the political 109 personal, the 32, 105, 248, 302 Phenomenology of Spirit ([1807] 1977) 18 Phillips, Anne 317 Philosophy of Right (Hegel, [1821] 1942) 18, 108, 288 Piketty, Thomas 295 Pitkin, Hanna 197 Plato 7–8, 31, 48, 49b, 101, 133, 146, 148, 169, 182, 195, 250–1, 272, 284, 308 pluralism social and political 57, 64, 76, 93–4, 96, 103, 115–16, 118, 188, 190, 191, 197, 206, 209, 219, 298, 315 value pluralism 164, 169; see also democratic theory; exclusion; liberal democracy; liberalism; multiculturalism; Isaiah Berlin Pogge, Thomas 234, 236, 286 polis 105, 186 political animal 105 political change 16–40 political community 33, 79, 101, 105, 108, 112, 147, 157–160, 162, 165–6, 181, 202–3, 205, 207, 210–11, 213–38, 286, 290, 292, 298, 302, 314–16, 318–19, 321, 333–345 political concepts 3, 6, 10–12, 72, 95–6, 100, 122, 165 Political Liberalism (Rawls, [1993] 2005) political philosophy 5–7, 22, 49, 90, 136, 138, 175, 182 political science 5–6, 54, 58, 72–4, 83, 90, 96–7, 115, 206, 210 political violence 36, 39–40, 83, 102, 109, 112, 114, 144, 149–50, 331, 338 politicians 189–91, 196–201 Politics (Aristotle, 2000) 7, 107 politics (concept of) essence or meaning of politics 11, 36, 62, 82 100–9 politics as power, conflict, and distribution of resources 108–10 politics as dialogue (see democracy: deliberative) politics as government 101–5 politics as public affairs 105–8 scope or extent of politics (see non-political) Politics of Recognition (Taylor, 1992) 164, 218, 299, 302–4, 306, 315, 321, 323–4, 342 polity 101, 163–4, 214, 305, 314 Polity and Group Difference (Marion, 1989) 163 Pollit, Katha 320 pollution 180, 207 polyarchy 115, 188

polyethnic rights 164–5, 320 Popper, Karl 36, 39b, 217 popular sovereignty 31, 107, 122–3, 132, 186–7, 190, 193, 199, 223, 226 populism 33, 37, 86, 132, 196, 210, 229 postcolonialism 80, 179, 250, 336b, 341–3 Indigenous critiques 342–3 post-structuralism/postmodernism 8, 12, 57, 81, 82–3b, 90, 96, 109, 141, 153, 179, 192, 250, 267, 272, 275, 293–4, 304, 307, 309, 313, 321, 333, 341 Poulantzas, Nicos 114 poverty 30, 32, 44–5, 140, 143, 160, 172–3, 235–6, 264, 276, 280–1, 286, 288–94, 305, 334 power 11, 71–98 agenda-setting 75–6 decision-making 74–5 elite centralized versus distributed 72, 192, 196 faces 73–82 feminist views 79 Foucaultian views 81–3, 110, 141 Marxian views 78, 93–6 as the political 108–10 postcolonial views 80 preference manipulation 76–80 vs authority 83–5 see also authority; legitimacy; governmentality Power Elite (Mills, 1956) 115, 192 Power: A Radical View (Lukes, [1975] 2005) 73, 98 prejudice 50, 138, 141, 215–16, 218, 274, 328, 333 Prince (Machiavelli) 102, 104, 125–6b Principles of Ethics (Spencer, [1892–3] 1982) 287 privacy/private life 66, 106, 159, 170–1, 216–17, 310; see also toleration private interests 63, 203–7, 255, 275 private property criticisms 64, 143, 192, 248–9, 259, 273, 295 justifications 116, 167, 192, 246–8, 257, 261, 284 Profession and Vocation of Politics/’Politics as a Vocation’ (Weber, 1919) 97b, 102, 112 progress 17–21, 23–4, 26–7, 29, 31, 34, 39, 41, 45, 48, 180, 215–17, 259, 273, 333 property 243–68 common property 250–2 personal property 251 private property (see main entry) state property 252 protest 151–2 Protestantism 21, 51, 214, 216 Proudhon, Pierre-Joseph 34, 149, 247–8 public good/interests; see common good public life 100, 105–9, 164, 171, 202, 275, 304, 310 public/private dichotomy 31, 105, 109, 117 Pufendorf, Samuel 92, 245 punishment 84, 112, 121, 129, 130, 131–2, 140–1, 143–4, 170, 177 retribution 285 queer theory 309, 313 race classical critical tradition on race 329–31 concept 327–8 double-consciousness 330, 346 exclusion 328–9 philosophy of race 331–4 ‘racial realism’ 333

370 INDEX ‘science’ 45, 327, 328, 332 see also colonialism; exclusion; critical race theory; philosophy of race; racism Racial Contract (Mills, 1997) 332–4 racism 202, 220–1, 331 anti-racism 9, 202, 330 challenge for Western political thought 65, 327–9, 332 ‘epistemology of ignorance’ ‘racialism’ 45, 49, 65, 229 systemic racism 275, 302, 313, 331–5 see also colonialism; critical race theory; philosophy of race; race rationalism 8, 18–19, 27, 33, 35–6, 48–50, 67, 74, 106, 134, 140, 312, 341 Rationalism in Politics (Oakeshott, [1962] 1991) 35, 41, 106, 143 Rawls, John 8, 36, 47, 88, 92, 146, 148, 153, 169, 182, 219, 237, 246–7, 276, 278–9, 281, 282–3b, 284, 286–7, 292, 294, 296–7, 312 reactionary politics 21, 28–9 Reagan, Ronald 55, 59, 180 ‘realism’ legal 135 international relations 94, 117, 136 political 102, 142 rebellion 147, 149–50, 153 recognition 298–325 concept 164, 218, 221, 300, 302–4, 323 contradiction critique 306 cultural survival 303, 320, 342 fixity critique 306 Indigenous, postcolonial, and settler-colonial critiques 306, 338, 342–3 misrecognition 306, 315 non-recognition 304 status model 306 vs. liberalism and rights 164–5, 218–19, 304–5 vs. redistribution 305–6 see also exclusion; difference; identity; muliculturalism; toleration Red Skin, White Masks (Coulthard, 2014) 342 redistribution; see distribution referendums 188–9 Reflections on the Revolution in France (Burke) 27–8 reform 21–3, 90, 143, 194, 289, 291–2, 293–4 vs. revolution 17, 25, 29–31, 34, 39, 49 Reformation 21, 216 Regan, Tom 180 relativism 57, 82 religion 34, 51, 66, 119, 179, 237–8; see also Buddhist Thought; Christian thought; Daoism and Natural Harmony; Hindu thought; Islamic thought, liberation theology; toleration religious fundamentalism 66, 119, 220, 322, 336 representation independence theory 198–9 likeness theory 202–3 mandate theory 199–202 vs direct democracy 186–9 see also democracy ‘Repressive Tolerance’ (Marcuse, 1965) 218 Republic (Plato) 7, 31, 49, 195, 272 Republicanism 47–8, 57, 88, 91–2, 104, 107–8b, 156–7, 159, 161–2, 166, 181, 197, 199, 210–11 Rethinking Multiculturalism (Parekh, 2000) 68, 315–16

revolution American 24, 28, 150 Chinese 24–5 English 29, 73, 217 French 24, 27–8, 31, 35, 48, 89, 107, 140, 142, 151, 176, 193, 196, 205, 226–7, 275, 310 Islamic 24, 28, 66, 119 Russian 24–5, 250 Ricardo, David 38, 59 ‘right to rule’ 83, 91, 122, 130, 139, 146 rights civil 158–9, 161, 163, 238, 333 critiques 179 disability 164 economic 159 human 33, 132, 134, 136, 152, 160–1, 165, 174–9, 235–6, 280, 319 Indigenous critiques legal vs. moral 174–5 Marxist critiques natural 22, 48, 50, 53, 90, 122, 131, 133–4, 147, 176, 150, 157, 176, 178–9, 217, 246, 273–4, 310 political 158–9, 274–5, 304 positive vs. negative 161, 174–8 postcolonial critiques property 34, 132, 217, 246–9, 274 social 158 special 164, 174, 178, 319, 320 universal 156, 176, 164 utilitarian critiques women’s 159, 164, 178, 337 see also animal rights; citizenship; multiculturalism: multicultural rights Rights of Man (Paine, 1791–2) 27, 31 Road to Serfdom (Hayek, [1944] 1976) 247, 261, 266 Rogues (Derrida 2005) 192 Rorty, Richard 305 Rothbard, Murray 35, 114 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 31, 36, 46–8, 87, 90, 92, 106, 122–3, 143, 146–8, 166–7, 172, 186, 192–4, 196, 199, 205b, 206–7, 210–11b, 226, 248, 273, 276, 278, 295, 308, 310 rule of law concept, aims, and origin 87, 93, 130–2 feminist views 132 Indigenous political theory 132 Marxist views 132, 143–4, 151 multiculturalist views 159 as separate from politics 131, 135 vs. democracy 132, 135 see also constitutionalism, law, liberal democracy, obligations and duties Ruling Class (Mosca, [1896] 1939) 196 Said, Edward 80, 336–7, 341 Sandel, Michael 58 Sartre, Jean-Paul 43, 331 Scanlon, T. M. 295 Scarcity 108, 121, 262 post-scarcity 32 Schattschneider, E. E. 76 Schmitt, Carl 108, 142 Schumacher, Ernst Friedrich 181, 253 Schumpeter, Joseph 115, 188, 191–2 Science 5–7 Scruton, Roger 56, 88 Second Sex (1949, De Beauvoir) 46, 79, 311, 314

INDEX 371 secularism 66, 119, 221 security 26, 47, 50, 87, 102–3, 106, 113, 116, 121, 138–42, 145, 147 150–1, 161, 170, 176, 248, 278, 283, 288 self-determination 48, 172, 221–2, 226–7, 318–19, 338 self-development 31, 34, 53, 61, 167, 171, 173, 292 self-government 34, 108, 124, 164–5, 171, 186, 223, 225–6, 229, 320, 340, 342 self-help 51, 55 self-interest 22, 34, 37, 44, 50, 53, 56, 61–3, 84, 108, 117, 147, 204, 207, 226, 254–5, 282, 288 self-realization 18, 49, 169, 172, 182, 277 self-/other- regarding action 136–7 self-reliance 29, 37, 55, 61, 161–2 separation of powers 107, 114, 118, 154, 197 settler-colonialism critique of recognition 342 Indigenous participation 343 settler-colonialism vs. liberalism 338–9, 343, 345 sex see gender and sex Sexual Contract (Pateman, 1988) 79, 308 Sexual Politics (Millett, [1970] 1990) 109 sexuality 50, 79, 137–8, 220, 307 Simpson, Audra 342 Singer, Peter 23, 179, 235, 286 Skinner, Quentin 12 slavery 65, 89, 152, 170, 193, 272, 278, 311, 329–30, 334, 338 Small is Beautiful (Schumacher, 1974) 181, 253 Smiles, Samuel 55 Smith, Adam 28, 35, 38, 59, 63, 254–5, 260, 261, 287–8, 339 Smith, Anthony 223 Social Choice and Individual Values (Arrow, [1951] 2013) 208 social class (see class) social contract tradition 27, 31, 34–5, 46, 47–8b, 53–4, 63, 74, 87–8, 91–2, 103, 113, 138, 146–8, 150, 151, 193, 205, 210–11, 217, 218 Social Contract (Rousseau, [1762] 1969) 210–11b social democracy 194–5b social deprivation 49, 140, 143, 173, 291 social divisions 64–6; see also class; gender; race; identity Social Insurance and Allied Services [Beveridge Report] (Beveridge, 1942) 281, 289 social justice 279287 deserts-based 285–7 needs-based 281–3 rights-based 284–5 global see main entry social security 158, 289, 289, 294 social solidarity 52, 55–6, 60, 129, 144, 171, 194, 224, 226, 265, 322 social welfare ‘third way’ welfare reform 54, 194, 288, 293 concept 287–90 conservative argument 291–2 consensus 289, 293 exclusion vs. poverty 290 Foucaultian critique 294–5 liberal argument 280–1, 283, 292 means testing 55 national efficiency argument 290–1 New Right critique 161–2, 293–4 social democratic argument 292–3 varieties of welfare state 289

poverty elimination 289 social inclusion 290 state 288 socialism authority and order 89, 143–4 cooperation vs. competition 149, 204, 207 democracy, reform and revolution 23, 192, 194–5, 199 ecosocialism 180 equality and needs 280, 293 goals/principles/beliefs 44, 46, 49, 51, 53–4, 143, 167, 172, 230, 278–9, 301 individual and society 53–4, 56, 59, 60–1 property, markets, and planning 248–9, 250–2, 259, 262, 265 utopian 33–5 see also anarchism; economic planning; equality; Marxism; property; social democracy; social welfare society 18, 59–60 individualist view of society 62–3 organic view of society 63 social conflict vs consensus 63–4 see also individuals; world society; state, the; political community Socrates 49, 146, 149 Souls of Black Folk (DuBois, 1903) 330, 346b sovereignty (see also state, the) de jure vs. de facto 121 emergence 120 internal vs. external 122–5 legal versus political 120–2 popular 122 Spencer, Herbert 38, 44–5, 287 Spirit of Laws (1748, Montesquieu) 107 Spivak, Gayatri 341 Stalin, Joseph 86, 263 Stalinism 78, 88–9, 288 State and Revolution (Lenin, [1917] 1973) 114, 250 state capitalism 252 state of nature 46–7, 62, 67, 74, 87, 103, 104, 113, 131, 139, 146–7, 166, 246, 272–3, 282, 338 state, the absolutist theories 47–8, 67, 74 113, 130, 139–40 constitutional theories 47–8, 88, 91–3, 107–8 113–16, 120, 122, 130, 132, 154, 190, 197, 217, 244–5, 303 anarchist and Marxist theories 114, 143, 151 compulsory jurisdiction 61, 111, 130 contemporary states 118–19 elite theories 114–15 governance 116–17 key features 97, 110–12 neoliberal critique 116 pluralist theory 115 state vs. individuals 53, 61, 142, 145, 147, 150, 157, 159, 162–3, 181, 190, 217 state vs. society 105, 108 stateless society 33, 67, 74, 111; see also authority; citizenship legitimacy; economic planning; nation-states; political community; sovereignty status quo 21, 26–7, 29, 31, 76, 142 stereotypes 65, 317, 336 Stirner, Max 261 structure versus agency; see under agency Subjection of Women (Mill, 1869) 168, 310

372 INDEX suffrage suffrage of racialised groups 152 universal 21, 114, 118, 158, 190, 193 women’s suffrage 198, 275, 308 working class male suffrage 22 Summa Theologiae (Aquinas, 1963) 103, 133 ‘superstructure’ see under Marxism ‘surplus value’ see under Marxism ‘survival of the fittest’ 38, 44, 287 Talmon, J. L. 196 Tawney, R. H. 166, 195, 279, 305 taxation 38, 152, 173, 178, 193, 247, 293–4 Taylor, Charles 164, 168, 218, 302, 303, 306, 315, 320, 323–4b, 325 Technology 32, 62, 78, 181, 188, 224, 249, 256, 258–9, 266, 291 Thatcher, Margaret 29, 55, 59, 62, 294 the people 25, 107, 114, 122, 123, 126, 132, 150, 184, 185–91, 193, 196–9, 203, 205, 207, 210–11, 213, 252, 339 theocracy 24, 119, 121 theology 7, 42, 51, 85, 101–3, 119, 121, 133, 140, 176, 272, 290–1 Theology of Liberation (Gutiérrez, 1971) 291 Theory of Justice (Rawls, 1971) 8, 36, 47, 49, 57, 148, 153, 182, 247, 278, 282–4, 286–7, 292, 296, 312 theory of labour and value 38, 249, 251 Theory of Moral Sentiments (Smith, [1759] 1976) 254, 261 Theses on Feuerbach (Marx, [1845] 1968) 17 third way 54, 194, 288, 293 Thoreau, Henry David 53, 89, 151–2 Titmuss, Richard 293 toleration the case for it 215–17, 239 intolerance 36, 215–16, 218, 220 limits and limitations 219–21, 306, 318 political 219–20 religious 237 vs. difference 217–19 see also difference; exclusion; identity; recognition Tolstoy, Leo 104, 144 Tonnies, Ferdinand 56 Totalitarianism 35–6, 78, 88–9, 108, 139, 169, 185, 196, 247, 261, 267 Touraine, Alan 19 trade unions 78, 159, 206 tradition 26–30 transnational communities 231–3 Treatise on Human Nature (Hume, 1739) 329

truth 6, 35, 48, 66, 77, 80–3, 86, 96, 102, 140, 142, 144, 151, 196, 216–17, 253, 291, 340 Tully, James 132, 302, 306, 343 Turner, Dale 343 Two Concepts of Liberty (Berlin, [1958] 2002) 35, 165, 169, 182b–3 Two Treatises on Government (Locke, 1690) 48, 92, 122, 150, 217 tyranny 94, 101, 147, 197, 267, 274, 279 ‘of the majority’ 196 unemployment 170, 259–60, 262, 264–5, 281, 293 United Nations 117, 160, 201, 222, 229 Universal Declaration of Human Rights, 160, 161, 175 universalism 8, 45, 52, 234–5, 301, 303 US Bill of Rights 175 USSR (Soviet Union) 24–5, 30, 37, 58, 94, 190, 252, 262, 264–7, 337 utilitarianism 21–2b, 33, 50, 134, 148, 168, 235, 285 Utilitarianism (Mill, [1861] 1972) 168, 285 utility 21–2, 50–1, 58, 92, 134, 206, 235 Utopia 17, 30–7, 39–41, 226, 250, 284 Utopia (More, [1516] 2012) 250 Utopia and Violence (Popper) 39–40b Vindication of the Rights of Women (Wollstonecraft, [1792] 1967) 275 310 virtue 49, 55, 107, 133–4, 159, 194–5, 217, 279, 287 310 ‘wage slavery’ 65, 170 Waldron, Jeremy 305–6 Walzer, Michael 57, 227w Weale, Albert 132 Wealth of Nations (Smith, [1776] 1930) 254 Weber, Max 11–12, 51, 59, 78, 83, 85, 87, 91, 96, 97b, 102–3, 112 welfare state (see social welfare) Westminster-style government 107, 123, 178 White Supremacy and Racism in the Post-civil Rights Era (Bonilla-Silva, 2001) 333 Williams, Bernard 88, 153 Wolff, Robert Paul 145, 218 Wollstonecraft, Mary 49, 275b, 310–11 work ethic 178, 258, 276, 290, 293 world society 60, 62b Wretched of the Earth (Fanon, 1967) 331, 339 Yack, Bernard 90 Young, Iris Marion 163 Young, Michael 276 Zack, Naomi 332