Abstract
Paul Bowman locates the aim of intervention as the raison d'être of post-Marxism and cultural studies, and pinpoints the under-theorisation of this central concept. What are the responsibilities of post-Marxism and cultural studies? What is it to intervene responsibly? Taking these questions as a springboard into his discussion, the author analyses the conflict that arises between post-Marxism and cultural studies in light of the question of ‘universal responsibility’. The book ultimately searches for the appropriate orientation and focus of both disciplines and seeks to help reactivate the theory of intervention.
With an awareness of the institutional basis of academia, this study explores the political implications of university academic work in post-Marxism and cultural studies. Throughout the book the ‘versus’ in the title is applied to several sub-themes such as banal pragmatism vs. high theory, theory vs. practice, academic vs. political and theoretical vs. practical.
For Bowman, deconstruction is central for both cultural studies and post-Marxism. They are most different, first on ‘culture’, which is deconstructed in the former but little analysed in the latter, and second, on the question of ‘politics’, which is theorised in post-Marxism yet adopted with reservations by the other (pp. 9–10). Cultural studies claims to be practical and political, while post-Marxism comes out with a macro-political strategy. In this stalemate, cultural studies mostly outweighs the other as its anti-disciplinarity and micro-political perspective enable greater institutional deconstruction and the possibility of intervening politically. In addition, high theoreticism in post-Marxism facilitates ‘the forgetting of the political problematic of the institution’ (p. 174). Yet one should also note that Bowman's study is quite theoretical, unlike cultural studies.
The book does not leave the discussion without proposing an alternative perspective. In order to make academic work politically effective, the author firstly proposes ‘interdisciplinarity’, which is more like anti-disciplinarity in his reading of Mowitt (p. 177). In addition to disciplinary transgression, Bowman's second remark is that the textual, deconstructive, micro-political focus will enrich and ‘politicize’ both cultural studies and post-Marxism (p. 186). In this way, the book reintroduces Derridean deconstruction into these disciplines for the sake of transforming macro-political scholarship through/to micro-political anti-disciplinary textual politics.
This book offers a much-needed contribution to a delayed debate on the orientation of both disciplines. Its discussion of the relation between academic work and the institutional political terrain will attract specialised readers in particular.
Hakki Tas
(Bilkent University and Yale University)
This volume features 38 papers, including classics old (Aquinas, Hobbes, Kant) and new (Buchanan on secession, Singer on famine, Walzer on non-combatant immunity), divided into eleven unequal sections covering sovereignty, self-determination, human rights, Rawls' Law of Peoples, nationalism and patriotism, cosmopolitanism, global poverty, just war, terrorism, women and global justice, and environmental justice. As this list implies, it is a broad selection, though it could be accused of lacking balance. Whether it is simply a consequence of the post-9/11 world or the fact that this collection is made up of political philosophers rather than international relations scholars, there are lengthy sections on both just war and terrorism, but no sections devoted to issues such as open borders/migration or global governance (which could have been well represented by, say, Robert Goodin and David Held), both of which surely raise issues of justice. Of course, there is so much literature in the field of global justice that one could always argue with any choice of categories and selections for such an anthology and the range of coverage is actually pretty good. The purpose of the text is, presumably, to accompany taught courses on issues in global justice, and it can always be supplemented with additional readings and topics to suit the instructor.
As for the volume's coverage, a wide range of viewpoints is included, and although several authors are represented twice or more, this is largely due to their importance in several debates. While the contributions generally come from philosophers rather than policy makers, many are practically oriented and there are also excerpts from UN documents on human rights and just war. Each section features a short introduction that briefly sets out what each contribution argues, making the structure of the dialectic clearer. For instance, in the section on global poverty, Singer's emphasis on individual obligations is contrasted with Nagel's argument that global institutions are necessary for global justice and Pogge's claim that there is a global basic structure and institutions need to be reformed to prevent the exploitation of the global poor. Finally, the bibliography offers a fairly comprehensive list of further reading, although it would have been a more useful guide if it had been divided thematically. Despite my cavils, this compilation fills a gap in the market and will serve as a very useful introduction or course text, although I would not use it exactly ‘as is’ myself.
Ben Saunders
(University of Oxford)
In a world not suffering from a lack of literature on the work of John Rawls, any new collection of essays focused on his political philosophy has to justify its existence in terms of what it adds to the debate. Unfortunately, this collection of essays fails to do this on two counts. Firstly, six out of the ten essays collected in this book are available in a special symposium edition of the Journal of Moral Philosophy published in 2004; a journal which I assume the majority of UK university libraries subscribe to. Secondly, and more importantly, most of these essays do little more than cover debates and arguments that will feel like old friends to Rawls scholars, and like close acquaintances to anyone with a primary interest in contemporary political philosophy. This might be justifiable if the essays offered novel and important interventions in these debates or provided good reasons to revisit largely exhausted issues, but for the most part they do neither. The exceptions to this are the essays by Leif Wenar and Fred D'Agostino, which examine the unity of Rawls' oeuvre and his continuing importance, respectively, though both of these essays were included in the original symposium.
The theme of the legacy of Rawls' work offers the opportunity to take a step back from familiar and tired debates and investigate some genuinely underdeveloped and interesting themes that arise when we ask ourselves about the lasting impact and worth of his remarkable theory. With one eye on how he changed political philosophy, our understanding of concepts such as justice, pluralism and equality, and the aims and method of political philosophising, and another eye on those aspects of his work that deserve more attention or could form the basis for future developments, we could have an important contribution to Rawls scholarship and political philosophy more generally. To be fair, the editors do gesture towards some of these themes in their introduction, but this only begs the question of what they thought chapters defending the lexical priority of fair equality of opportunity or exploring the polarising effects of excluding persons from public reason tell us about Rawls' legacy. These are essays on Rawls' work to be sure, but what they have to do with his legacy is unclear. As such, this is a missed opportunity and, combined with the fact that over half of the essays are available elsewhere, a largely unnecessary book.
Matt Sleat
(University of Sheffield)
This book draws together the main debates about the institutional viability of global democracy in light of recent phenomena emerging within the context of globalisation, such as international development practice, US dominance, and nationalisms for global democracy. The articles revolve around discussions of liberal and republican democracy and overall the book advocates the thesis of republican democracy against liberal and cosmopolitan approaches.
Crocker, using Stiglitz's division between economic and social globalisation and placing the mission of democratisation upon the latter, examines liberal internationalism's suggestions for democratising globalisation. Gould takes a critical look at the concept of ‘localities’, in an attempt to move beyond the dilemma of universal human rights vs. cultural diversity (of nations and localities). Nickel and Reidy explore the versions of (moral) relativism on the basis of which the arguments for and desirability of the universality of human rights have been challenged. They suggest that a modest version of prescriptive relativism can be maintained while universally defined human rights posit borders to morally grounded units of self-determination.
Nussbaum develops a strong constitutionalist liberal case against the vague openness of Sen's capabilities approach, and argues that when not supported by some kind of understanding of social justice with a specific list of rights as the basis of the capabilities, then the precariousness of the approach with regard to how and by whom ‘freedom’ should be defined is multiplied. Oldenquist takes up the negative discourse on ethnic nationalism and claims that ethnic nationalisms do not necessarily contradict political globalisation or its agenda. Instead, recognising the demands of small nations for sovereignty may be a way of finding local groundings for the political globalisation of democracy. Kok-Chor Tan similarly renders problematic the suggestions of the cosmopolitan democratic thesis, arguing instead for a nationally centred international democracy of democratic nations.
McBride makes a robust criticism of Rawlsian political liberalism by pointing out its failure to respond to the challenges of our time when seen through the problematic of globalisation, and the changing difficulties of the task of reformulating democracy under conditions of globalisation and US unilateralism. Cunningham, making use of the works of Dewey, asks if it is possible to identify a global public.
Not all the articles in the book are of equal sophistication or analytical depth. However, some contain strong arguments, presenting the thesis of republicanism for the viability of global democracy in a convincing manner.
Asli Coban
(Middle East Technical University)
This book contains twelve chapters plus an introduction covering a wide range of state theories and ideologies. The strength of the book is that it contains not only classical democratic and liberal ideologies but also non-democratic and non-liberal ones such as fascism and fundamentalism. The authors also engage with popular academic debates by including chapters on feminism and globalisation. Although the book mostly uses ‘the West’ (US, UK, France, Germany, etc.) as case studies, where relevant, some chapters focus on other countries in different continents, and therefore the content of the book is quite satisfactory.
Another strong point to be mentioned is that the book locates the state and theories of the state within a historical context. For example, the introduction deals with the emergence of the modern state and each subsequent chapter includes two separate sections called ‘context’ and ‘practical politics’, which give a historical account of the theory in question and concrete political circumstances. Nevertheless, the three authors do not always follow the same flow of ideas. For example, while Cudworth deals with the historical account mostly in the ‘practical politics’ section of the chapter on anarchism, Hall, in a chapter on social democracy, prefers to give the historical account in the ‘context’ section. Moreover, McGovern keeps the ‘context’ section short while giving more details in the ‘practical politics’ section of his chapter on conservatism.
Each chapter also comprises two more sections called ‘definition’ and ‘theorists’. These uniform sections in each chapter generally facilitate the reading and comparison of each theory covered in the book, and cross-referencing between chapters is also a helpful guide. Although it will sometimes be possible for an undergraduate reader to get lost due to the many names of the theorists cited, the book seems successful in explaining the complex issues.
Hasan Engin Sener
(Akdeniz University, Turkey)
The meaning context of democracy is itself constitutive of politics at specific moments of historical trajectory. In more than one sense, the essence of the very meaning context of democracy is not constrained by limits posed due to the methodological dictum. It does not imply that the trait of universalism can be attributed to democracy as both a theoretical construct and a methodological device. René Descartes once wrote: ‘It is not enough to have a good mind; the main thing is to apply it well’. Attempting to foreground the quintessence of this avowal of Descartes might solve the problematic implicit in the construction of democracy as an institution that has evolved over time and across space. Putting it succinctly, agency at times fails to make the structure work.
With a view to enriching this deliberation, The Construction of Democracy: Lessons from Practice and Research covers a wide spectrum of ideas, ranging from macro issues of democratic construction, to elected institutions of the democratic state, to implementing the policies of the democratic state, to the democratic state in practice. The splitting and yet splicing of practice and research in the construction of democracy as an institution across continents is the central political phenomenon of this edited volume. In other words, the distinction between the ontological claims, the epistemological roots and the praxeological concerns of the ethos of democracy is not rigid but opaque. The editors and contributors to this volume emphasise that the construction of a democratic regime rests on the relational balance between society and its constitution and institutions. Citing examples from Latin American countries, Eastern Europe and Asiatic nations like India, they insist that democracies that deliver must do more than merely kneel before the altar of formal institutions; above all, the democratic state must be capable of empowering its citizens to develop to their fullest. The democratic state must nevertheless also constrain those officials who could succumb to corruption and those soldiers who could attempt to seize power, and it must restrain itself by allowing – and thus enabling – free markets to generate economic growth.
One measure of the success of democratic theory will be the extent to which it can loosen the grip of liberal minimalism on those who study the comparative politics of democracy and democratisation. A second, more demanding measure would be found in the degree to which it can contribute to the global conversation about democratic development – in established liberal democracies and the transnational arena no less than in transitional societies and new democracies. These are, of course, external tests. The internal conversation currently flourishes without them being passed, though there are sporadic exceptions (for example, in connection with deliberative opinion polls and citizens' juries). The fact that the internal conversation is full of vigour is cause for self-congratulation. But democratic political theory, precisely because it is democratic political theory, cannot get off so lightly in this respect as do most other areas of political theory.
Sambit Mallick
(Indian Institute of Technology, Guwahati)
In this his latest book Gregory Elliott traces the theoretical and methodological underpinnings of three rather different theorists of our time: Francis Fukuyama, Eric Hobsbawm and Perry Anderson. These three writers have, since 1989, proclaimed that there is an end to history, at least as we knew it, where capitalism has triumphed. Elliott uses The Communist Manifesto as the thread that unites these three writers. He argues that the thread is stronger than it may appear at first sight, even though ideologically these three writers could not be further apart, which is expressed in the diagnosis of their respective ends: ‘Fukuyama proclaimed the end of history, Hobsbawm feared a descent into darkness, and Anderson announced an utterly unprecedented neoliberal ascendancy’ (p. 116). Elliott structures the book in four main chapters. Firstly, he offers an assessment of Marx's writings in the first chapter in order to open the door to the three endings proposed. It is Marx, then, who provides the thread. The other three writers form the basis of the following three chapters. In each of them, Elliott traces the argumentative logic used by each author to reach their conclusions and it is via this exercise that he manages to draw out the commonalities running through them.
Elliott successfully presents the three authors' views in a clear and dispassionate manner. In the conclusion, the idea of an end of history is set against the claims of the anti-capitalist movement, and particularly against the two theoretical works that appear more influential: Empire (Hardt and Negri) and An Anti-capitalist Manifesto (Callinicos). Here, the idea of an end of history is deeply criticised. But their critique is not sufficiently grounded, according to Elliott, for it fails to grasp reality with its utopian-tinted glasses. This is important, as Elliott presents how Marx has also been used to reach a rather different conclusion regarding the end of history, albeit not a fully satisfactory one in Elliott's view. Instead, Elliott advances a conclusion built from Anderson's sad resignation and Marx's historical materialism to open the door to the possibility that for every end there is a new beginning. The book contains primarily new material, yet some of the chapters draw heavily from Elliott's previous publications and talks. Overall, the book approaches a theoretical paradigm (the end of history) often mentioned but rarely analysed in such a contentious manner.
Monica Clua Losada
(University of York)
Contemporary political theorists have not found a great deal to say about issues of insecurity and conflict. It is one of the chief merits of Ioannis Evrigenis' enjoyable book that it restores those issues to the centre of attention. The book examines the concept of ‘negative association’ through ‘metus hostilis’ (fear of enemies). The idea is that an essential part of what defines and sustains any group is its sense of difference from some other, external entity. And while any negative social emotion can lead to negative association, when it comes to negative political association, it is the fear of enemies that provides the most potent stimulus.
Evrigenis charts the emergence and development of the concept of negative association through metus hostilis across the history of political thought. Six of the seven short chapters are dedicated to this enterprise and manage to engage a quite breathtaking array of thinkers: Thucydides, Aristotle, Machiavelli, Gentillet, Bodin, Botero, Hobbes, Rousseau, Kant, Hegel, Simmel, Schmitt and Morgenthau are all recruited to the tradition. It would be easy to criticise the superficiality of these historical vignettes, and certainly Evrigenis' account skates terribly quickly across vast tracts of time and thought. But criticism of that form would be largely misplaced, for Evrigenis' eye is on the big picture, and the image that emerges is very interesting indeed.
For Evrigenis, negative association through metus hostilis is a perennial concern in the history of political thought. Recognition of the way in which conflict and the fear of enemies can play a powerful (albeit dangerous) role in securing and enriching the life of the polity was extremely widespread, and the idea preoccupied many of the greatest political minds. Against this background it is all the more remarkable that we hardly talk about negative association any more. For the language of conflict, we have substituted ‘reasonable disagreement’, and the distance of our theories from the tumultuous reality has never seemed greater. Nevertheless, reading Evrigenis one struggles to shake off the impression that one is hearing only half of the story. Of itself, the fear of enemies leads as readily to resignation and surrender as it does to negative association and resistance. In order to get from metus hostilis to negative association, a further ingredient is surely required. Beneath the surface of Evrigenis' unremittingly negative tale of enmity and fear, one searches largely in vain for a glimmer of hope.
Derek Edyvane
(University of Leeds)
Lois McNay argues that theories of recognition – such as that of Charles Taylor – are analytically and normatively flawed for a number of interrelated reasons. First of all, recognition theorists rely on an inadequate account of power. They typically locate recognition in face-to-face relations, and they locate the desire for recognition within the individual psyche. They do not consider how these are permeated and shaped by social structures and relations of power. The second problem with theories of recognition is that they take a particular form of subject formation (recognition) as universal, and they attribute the desire for recognition to all individuals regardless of time and place. Furthermore, theorists of recognition usually focus on the cultural domain, and thereby they overlook the importance of other domains, above all the economic one. Third, for theorists of recognition, identities tend to be given prior to the politics of recognition. Thereby the politics of recognition comes merely to reflect and, thus, reify existing identities. A variation of this problem arises when identities are taken as prior to agency and as leading to agency. McNay argues that identity is constituted through practice, and that agency does not follow automatically from identity or from recognition. Finally, recognition theorists endow recognition with a positive normative value, and this blinds them to the ways in which recognition is mediated by relations of power.
For these reasons, McNay is ‘against recognition’. However, she shares certain assumptions with the recognition theorists, including the dialogical, situated and embodied nature of subjectivity. However, she believes that these insights are better cashed in through Pierre Bourdieu's sociology and, in particular, his notions of habitus and practice. There McNay finds an account of structures and power that nonetheless leaves room for agency. In addition, she finds in Bourdieu an account of identity and subjectivity that is ‘externalised’ into social relations; that is, identities and subjectivities are always mediated by the surrounding society.
Against Recognition is an important critique of some of the recognition theorists, and McNay analyses some important blind spots in the recognition literature. It is certainly a recommendable book. I have two problems with it though. First, McNay stretches the label of recognition to cover theorists such as Žižek, Habermas and Benhabib. The result is that the focus of the book tends to slide from recognition to agency more generally. Second, although the reading of the different theorists of recognition is generally fair and nuanced, McNay presents a caricature of what she calls ‘post-structural’ thought.
Lasse Thomassen
(Queen Mary, University of London and Centro de Estudios Políticos y Constitucionales, Madrid)
In this concise book, Craig Parsons does exactly what his title suggests: he offers a clear typology of the available causal arguments about political action. For the author, it is crucial to draw a clear analytical line between four types of causal explanation: structural, institutional, ideational and psychological. On one hand, structural and institutional explanations are grounded in a logic-of-position, which ‘explains by detailing the landscape around someone to show how an obstacle course of material or man-made constraints and incentives channels her to certain actions’ (p. 13). Throughout the book, the term ‘structural’ refers to material (exogenously given) causal factors, while the term ‘institutional’ refers to man-made causal factors. On the other hand, ideational and psychological explanations are grounded in a logic-of-interpretation, which ‘explains by showing that someone arrives at an action only through one interpretation of what is possible and/or desirable’ (p. 13). For Parsons, the key difference between ideational and psychological forces is that the former are man-made and contingent, while the latter are embedded in hard-wired mental processes.
After sketching his typology, Parson devotes one chapter to each of the four types of explanation. In his review of the structural, institutional, ideational and psychological literatures, the author demonstrates that labels such as ‘institutionalism’ are often misleading, and that authors who claim to focus on one type of explanation are wrong about what they are actually doing. Yet although he offers a truly critical review of the existing scholarship, Parsons refuses to take a broad stance in favour of any of the four types of explanation at the centre of his book. Moreover, he argues that combining different types of causal logic is potentially fruitful, as long as scholars clearly identify the nature of the causal factors to which they refer.
Overall, this fascinating book is a call for clarity in the formulation and assessment of causal claims about political action that rejects the positivistic assumption that universalistic causal claims are necessarily superior to contextualised, particularistic ones. Written for both graduate students and more experienced scholars, How to Map Arguments in Political Science offers an insightful and sometimes provocative overview of several major scholarly literatures. Although his terminology is potentially confusing (for example, why not talk about ‘material explanations’ rather than ‘structural explanations‘?), Parsons has written a most useful book that is a must read for all students of politics.
Daniel Béland
(University of Saskatchewan)
This book is about the quality of democracy, and how the quality can be improved. Ringen's worry is that democracy is cheered by almost everyone, but few actually look at how democracies work and perform. Therefore it is necessary to ask: what is democracy for? The answer is that democracy is about freedom. Democracy can realise this freedom by protecting individual rights and providing for its citizens' welfare. When the performance of democracies is measured, the findings display that the performance of even the most advanced democracies can be improved. Thus the need for reform is pressing.
Two types of reform are suggested. The first concerns reform of the democratic system; the second concerns reform of the welfare state. The democratic system can be reformed in two ways: firstly, by revitalising local democracy; and secondly, by changing the funding of political parties. Revitalising local democracy means delegating power from central government to local communities and accepting the differences that may follow from this. Political parties should rely financially on paying members rather than private donations (as in the US) or public funding (as in Scandinavia). By relying on membership, participation will be important both for the parties and for citizens.
The reforms of the welfare state discuss to what extent economic democracy is possible, the possibilities of eradicating poverty and the role of the family in advanced capitalist economies. These discussions are highly engaging and illuminating, and raise important questions about the possibilities of politics. Can politics really eradicate poverty or realise economic democracy? The answer is ‘yes’ – under favourable conditions, politics can do this, but it is difficult and highly demanding. The proposals are supported with solid empirical evidence, although some of the reforms may seem controversial, as they are detailed and far-reaching.
The normative framework underlying Ringen's analyses relies on a notion of freedom and autonomy derived from Joseph Raz, and a model of deliberative democracy based on Jürgen Habermas' philosophy. Even if many of the ideas in this book are controversial and provocative, that is precisely why it is worth reading. I think this book can be of great interest for everyone interested in social justice, democratic theory and the institutional implication of democracy and social justice.
Harald Borgebund
(University of York)
Andrew Robinson's book provides useful theoretical insight into the complex relationship between individual and community identity. The book offers an instrumental alternative for deliberating how best to reconcile ‘liberal principles with the accommodation of cultural and other communities’ (p. 3) in the context of multiculturalism. Robinson unpacks definitional assertions and encapsulates ways that communal groups capture ‘the complexity of fluid self-identities’ and discordant aspects of social contradictions.
The book's main arguments spring from Robinson's purposeful attempt to alter the ontological platforms for building societal cohesion. He posits a need for ‘equal respect’ for which ‘situated autonomy can provide a justification … where people's governing assumptions are not unified and even where they conflict' (p. 51), and therefore can be overcome on the basis of openness moulded through a centrality of respect for ‘situated autonomy’ and ‘meaningful life’. Meaningful life becomes a cornerstone for individual goals and a principle for identification with the ‘context-of-value’ within community that ultimately enables people to form and pursue ‘significant purposes’ (p. 50, p. 53, p. 155, p. 166) without disregard for ‘reciprocal relationships’ that are reflected through changes in ‘the salience of identities’.
Robinson's objective pliancy comes through meticulous comparative analysis. He articulates alternatives alongside gaps found in Kymlicka, Young and Carens, among others. His partitioning of the focal points surrounding identity, agency and transformation within social units is sometimes circuitous but nevertheless influential. Robinson opens moral and political spaces for the individual and community as a reflection of the simultaneous adjustments necessary in relation to traditions, socialisation and cultural diversity on the road towards societal cohesiveness. ‘Awareness of the potential negative effects’ that constitute the imagery of communities ‘requires that we attempt to minimize such effects’ (p. 97) in light of the various demands that a multicultural society will make in response to those admitted or rejected, and those who become subjected to myriad disruptions when asserting autonomous action.
Multiculturalism and the Foundations of Meaningful Life is a reflexive work despite some ambitious claims for setting a principled course unimpeded by questions of legitimacy or obligation. Obtaining a synergistic outlook for the attainment of a subjectively defined ‘meaningful life’ is partially stifled by Robinson's desire to appeal for idealism outside ‘a liberal and universalist theory of multiculturalism’, notwithstanding the usefulness of his work. It is a signal for further social and political discovery. If ‘new solutions’ for accentuating ‘just relations in culturally diverse states’ (p. 168) are the objective, then committed readers will find Robinson's views provocative.
George Christopher Brathwaite
(University of Newcastle)
In Deconstructing Habermas Lasse Thomassen brings together the political philosophy of Jürgen Habermas and deconstruction in a dialogue that reaches far beyond reconstruction of the disagreements between Habermas and Jacques Derrida from the 1980s, or their more recent (and more amenable) encounters. Thomassen positions critical theory and deconstruction in a non-polemical engagement with each other, which, following Habermas and Derrida, he calls a ‘discussion’. He argues that the ethics of such a discussion does not only require a careful and respectful reading of the other position, but also, and more importantly, points in the direction of its irreducible (and demanding)‘otherness’. The objective of the book is to employ the Derridean post-structuralist and deconstructive insights for the purpose of staging an innovative reading of some of the key concepts and ideas of Habermasian critical political theory. Deconstructing Habermas is largely successful in this task and thus brings interesting and new insights to existing Habermasian scholarship. As such, this book also engages with some of that scholarship, in particular with texts written on Habermas' thought by, among others, theorists Simon Critchley and Bonnie Honig in The Derrida-Habermas Reader (2006), which Thomassen co-edited.
Thomassen's deconstructive take on Habermas centres on the identification and investigation of aporias and paradoxes in Habermas' theoretical democratic and theoretical discursive conceptualisations. The five chapters of the book focus on aporetic traits present, yet hidden, in five concepts: rationality, constitutionalism, tolerance, (civil) disobedience and discourse ethics. Rather than follow Habermas' attempts at resolving (and thus pacifying) the contradictions and paradoxes inherent in these conceptualisations, Thomassen tries to ‘unlock’ or ‘open them up’ in order to affirm the constitutive instabilities involved in both theorising and practising democracy.
Deconstructing Habermas will be an interesting read for researchers and postgraduate students in political philosophy. It will also be a useful addition to courses in critical theory, democratic theory and discourse theory, in particular because it is very well positioned within the current political theoretical debates. However, despite Thomassen's proficiency in Derrida's philosophy, it is less certain whether this book makes a contribution to theorising deconstruction, or, to phrase it possibly too simplistically, says what Derrida would learn from Habermas in the ‘discussion’ staged by Thomassen. Of course, to be fair, this book does not aim at ‘binarity’ or ‘symmetry’ in its positioning of critical theory and deconstruction. Given Thomassen's expertise, however, it would be interesting to read his ‘sequel’ to deconstructing Habermas: on critiquing Derrida.
Magdalena Zolkos
(University of Western Sydney)
The central question Geoffrey Vaughan attempts to answer in this book is: ‘apart from advocating a strong central government, did [Hobbes] make any practical recommendation’ about politics, and if so, what is the content of his recommendation? In answering this question, the author gives a comprehensive image of Hobbes’ political project.
Vaughan begins with an examination of Hobbes' intentions in and for his political doctrines. Rejecting the misleading interpretation of Hobbes' theory as an abstract philosophical study by taking as his guide and analysing ‘the introductions and dedicatory letters’ (p. 9) of Hobbes' writings, the author suggests that at the core of Hobbes' political project is the ambition to avoid sedition and maintain peace. This practical intention runs through Hobbes' political philosophical works. After clarifying the aim in Hobbes' mind, Vaughan goes further, to suggest that Hobbes' method is not to pursue truth by scientific or geometric reasoning. Rather, to reach consent, Hobbes ‘intends to use opinion to govern the actions of citizens’ (p. 40). Vaughan suggests that governing people's private opinions can be achieved only if a political education is firmly established alongside sovereign rule. In emphasising the distinction between political education and political philosophy, the author combines Hobbes' abstract political system and his practical interests in solving his political problem and gives a convincing argument to justify this combination. To illustrate his claims, by exploring Hobbes' attitude towards history, the author elucidates the role and the function of Behemoth as a vehicle for Hobbes' political education.
However, the possible difficulty the author faces is that the paradox of political education itself seems insoluble. That is, how can political education escape distortion or effacement by people's private judgement any more successfully than the principles of political philosophy? To make this picture of Hobbes' project as one of political education rather than speculative or practical political philosophy convincing, Vaughan needs to show how Hobbes' claims for political education address the worry that private judgement is radically destabilising for politics. If people are naturally prone to self-assertion, is not political power simply being re-presented as political education to draw the sting of what is, in the end, suppression?
Despite this difficulty, Vaughan compellingly refutes in this book many traditional interpretations of Hobbes' political projects and develops his own intriguing alternative account of Hobbes' project both skilfully and persuasively.
Chiayu Chou
(University of York)
This book is a collection of essays focusing on the work of Ralph Miliband – one of the most influential Marxist political theorists of the late twentieth century. The essays examine diverse aspects of Miliband's work and draw out the continuing relevance of his thought for political theory today. In the first essay, Michael Newman examines Miliband's relationship with the British ‘New Left’. This is followed by two essays concentrating on Miliband's work on socialist strategy – one (by Peter Burnham) broadly sympathetic and the other (by Paul Blackledge) more critical. The next three essays focus on Miliband's state theory. Clyde W. Barrow defends Miliband's approach to the study of the capitalist state. Paul Wetherly presents a rigorous restatement of the ‘instrumentalist’ theory of capitalist state power, taking Miliband's work as his major point of reference. Bob Jessop provides a detailed rereading of the ‘Miliband–Poulantzas debate’ of the 1970s. In the next essay, John Hoffman criticises what he sees as an implicit statism and authoritarianism in Miliband's approach to political strategy. The final two essays are empirical and historical in focus. John F. Manley draws on ‘Milibandian’ theoretical concepts in order to frame and interpret his analysis of the development of the US welfare state, and George A. Gonzalez utilises Miliband's work to help understand water manipulation policies in the Florida Everglades.
All the essays are well written and interesting, although the essays by Manley and Gonzalez both draw on Miliband's ideas in what seems to me to be a somewhat simplistic and superficial manner. Among the most interesting essays are those by Wetherly and Barrow who both, in different ways, defend the ‘instrumentalist’ approach to state theory associated with Miliband. This approach is often rather cursorily dismissed and is widely regarded as having been superseded by other theories, but Barrow shows that Miliband's state theory has been caricatured and severely distorted by its critics. Barrow's essay deserves to be widely read. Wetherly manages to clarify and defend the key claims of the ‘instrumentalist’ approach quite successfully, and, furthermore, convincingly argues that any theory of state power that allows room for agency must, in so doing, incorporate some form of ‘instrumentalism'. Wetherly's argument goes against the grain of much contemporary state theory and, as such, will make interesting reading for scholars in this area. I would certainly recommend this book to scholars in political theory and especially to those interested in Marxist state theory.
Edward Rooksby
(University of Southampton)
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