Abstract
The study of democracy has become a battlefield over the last 30 years with formidable troops arranged, trenches criss-crossing the theoretical terrain and ever fewer chances of fraternisation. While transitologists wanted to conceptualise contingent factors in regime changes such as elite pacts, or disposition of key actors on the political scene, institutionalists emphasised the slow and gradual processes of institution building, favouring rational choice approaches on one side of the spectrum and historical narratives on the other. Somewhat distant to and unmoved by these discussions, political theorists have toiled away at carving out a plausible normative concept of democracy.
Entirely novel approaches that deliberately transcend the battle lines are rare, and sadly, only one of the books reviewed here manages to open up genuinely new territory for further theoretical mining. It is probably fair to say that Axtmann's book is not of this quality. The central themes of the book are developed by contrasting patriotic cosmopolitanism with liberal cosmopolitanism; a critical examination of promoting democratic governance; the globalisation of democracy and human rights (which Axtmann terms liberal anti-pluralism), and a discussion of sovereignty and democracy.
The author dives right into the matter with a critical exploration (that borders on a text analysis) of Kant's perpetual peace. He ties this in with what he considers the challenges and advantages of republicanism. These sections of the book are scholarly and perceptive if only slightly unexciting to read, yet the author fails to tell us why republicanism is so critical to matters regarding democracy.
The substantial part of the book deals with the impact of global human rights discourse on democratic theory. However, as germane as this issue is, once again, didactically the book works in mysterious ways. Whole chapters read like brief outlines of the main ideas of thinkers. Pretty much everybody in the history of thought makes an appearance but it is not clear how Axtmann weighs their arguments. Text exegesis seems to be his favourite methodological approach, which becomes a little tedious when page after page of UN declarations and conventions are outlined and interpreted. It remains unclear what the exact relationship is between the ample documentary evidence that Axtmann laudably musters and his normative argument that the articulation of human rights on a global scale undermines democracy. In fact, the normative relationship between human rights and political rights remains curiously obscure.
If I had to point to those chapters that are particularly worthy of attention I would single out the initial chapters for scholars of Kantian political philosophy and chapter 4 which charts some important revisions of state theories by assessing the impact of democracy on sovereignty. Who is this book for? It cuts across quite a few interests in political theory without actually managing to weave them into a coherent normative model of democracy, but it may provide students of political theory with a first encounter of debates surrounding state theory and cosmopolitanism.
The second book is a joy to discover simply because it does what is rare in academic discussions on democracy. It ventures into genuinely new territory and attempts to forge a novel synthesis between the issues of transition to democracy in Eastern Europe and the nature of democratic politics. If I had to characterise the book I would call it a revisionist account that utilises sociological perspectives for an understanding of why democracies sometimes succeed and sometimes fail.
The core of Wydra's argument is that the experience of communism and democracy must be placed at the centre of analysis of transitional as well as consolidation politics. In very perceptive and astute sections on the emergence of the Soviet regime, as well as its disintegration at the end of the twentieth century, Wydra manages to transcend current paradigms of interpretation that construct artificial divides between pre-democratic and democratic phases. Differentiated accounts of human agency and memory functions act as Wydra's main analytical devices that, justifiably, push into the foreground various processes of symbolisation and meaning formation. His examination of ‘second reality’ and its slow but inexorable disintegration during the communist era is fascinating and stimulating reading.
Wydra has succeeded in challenging the current (myopic and fragmentary) terms of reference in the theory of democracy and has made an excellent attempt at a synthesis which repositions human experiences and the formation of meaning in the political process at the centre of democratic politics and its analysis. My only criticism would be that the language derived from French sociologists sometimes makes the book hard to read and that it is still necessary to integrate his approach into the analytical tradition of political thought. This is a greatly rewarding book that will frame future discussions on democracy and compel scholars to re-evaluate their epistemological and analytical armour in the current debate on the subject.
Axel Kaehne
(Cardiff University)
Noam Chomsky, one of the most prominent leading thinkers of our time, has numerous supporters and detractors. The central theme of this book deals with Chomsky's impact in the fields of education, law, linguistics, media studies and politics, along with the wide range of reactions to his work. As his biographer Barsky puts it, the Chomsky effect ‘is important not only for those interested in understanding Noam Chomsky as a person [going beyond the confines of academic discourse] but also for those who hope to change the current situation of systemic inequality in the direction of the ‘good society’ he [Chomsky] describes' (p. xii).
The Chomsky Effect is organised into two main sections. It begins with Chomsky's popular appeal, and the various debates Chomsky has sparked. It then moves on to the anger and venom which his disparagers, such as Christopher Hitchens, harbour towards him, and the charges Chomsky confronted, such as in the Faurisson affair. This part of the book is a compendium of the interaction between Chomsky and his critics. To capture critical references in Chomsky's works, Barsky establishes a connection between Chomsky's thought and his numerous precursors ranging from anarchists, Cartesians, liberals and anti-Bolshevik Marxists. In particular Barsky singles out Zellig Harris, Rudolph Rocker and Wilhelm von Humboldt, who laid the intellectual groundwork for Chomsky's intensive analysis. Examining the intellectual roots of Chomsky's writings enables Barsky to make a case for Chomsky as a catalyst, political activist and inspiration in the second part of this book.
The second half of The Chomsky Effect examines in fine-grained detail the academic fields with which Chomsky engaged. It first clarifies the misunderstandings associated with the anarchist thinking which underpins Chomsky's politically charged works and clarifies what Chomsky does not consider anarchism to be. This clarification plays a crucial role in grasping Chomsky's influential critique of American intervention around the globe, of media propaganda in liberal democracies and his call for observing international law and legitimate values. Barsky then proceeds to a study of the historical and contemporary roles of educators and public intellectuals, drawing into his theme the regimentation of schooling and Chomsky's discourses questioning widely held knowledge claims, as opposed to truth.
Barsky does a spectacular job of offering an essential introduction to Chomsky's works. For those who are not acquainted with Chomsky's writings in a wide range of social science disciplines, Barsky's book is intellectually enlightening and stimulating.
Shih-Yu Chou
(University of Sheffield)
The relationship between liberal rights and democratic procedures has been much discussed in recent years and each of these books makes an instructive contribution to that literature. Corey Brettschneider's book, Democratic Rights, seeks to demonstrate in detail what a commitment to democracy means for an account of rights and in so doing he articulates in detail what has been assumed, or only briefly argued for, by a number of political theorists writing about (deliberative) democracy. Drawing on Habermas' idea of co-originality (and more broadly on Rawls' political liberalism) Brettschneider argues that democracy is an ideal of self-government constituted by core liberal values (political autonomy, equality of interests and reciprocity) with the consequence that substantial rights can be defended under the banner of democracy. Brettschneider seeks to demonstrate this by criticising and rejecting (pure) procedural and epistemic conceptions of democracy (ch. 1), by outlining his own ‘value theory of democracy’ (chs 2-3) and then illustrating through a number of examples, including privacy rights, criminal justice rights and welfare rights (chs 4-6), the intuitive appeal of his substantive conception of democracy. He concludes by arguing that the judiciary has a substantial role to play in upholding rights (though not welfare rights) as guardians of democracy (ch. 7).
Richard Bellamy's Political Constitutionalism is a more broad-ranging and ambitious book which seeks to overturn much of the recent philosophical and legal literature on democracy and rights by arguing for a thinner, procedural conception of democracy in which the policing of rights is undertaken by democratic majorities (or their representatives) rather than the judiciary. The first half of the book (chs 1-3) is primarily critical in so far as Bellamy seeks to undermine many of the presumptions of what he calls legal constitutionalism (the view that the judiciary ought to uphold rights). In so doing he argues that judges are liable to be as unreliable, and perhaps more so, than majorities; that the rule of law is the rule of democracy and not the rule of judges; and that constitutionalism cannot be assimilated into the definition of democracy. The second half of the book (chs 4-6) proceeds to outline Bellamy's preferred account —; political constitutionalism —; which draws on the republican political theory of Philip Pettit (among others) and defends a majoritarian conception of democracy in which substantive rights are protected by the balancing rather than the separating of powers.
Although these books are of the same liberal democratic family, in so far as each is premised upon a commitment to the fundamental importance of treating persons with equal concern and respect (and so places autonomy and equality at the heart of their political theories), they are divided on how this general moral commitment is to be politically interpreted. Brettschneider is concerned with defending the role of the judiciary by showing that the upholding of liberal rights by constitutional courts is not undemocratic because many rights (including privacy and criminal, but not welfare rights) can be defended as constitutive of democracy. In this respect Brettschneider's approach is not dissimilar to Dworkin's in Freedom's Law, though Brettschneider, unlike Dworkin, recognises that such interventions entail some loss to democracy on the procedural side. Nonetheless, one cannot help but suspect that his argument is rigged from the start by the claim that democracy properly defined entails a commitment to core liberal values. Once this is conceded, the conclusion that rights normally thought of as liberal can be defended in the name of democracy is not such a surprise, as it is very much a case of what you get out depends upon what you put in. So while Brettschneider develops an impressively refined and detailed set of arguments, he includes from the outset rather more in the name of democracy than many, Bellamy included (see ch. 3), would be prepared to accept.
Bellamy's book is wider in scope and it is impossible in a short review to do justice to the many arguments that he develops. However, two points are particularly worth noting. First, because Bellamy, like Jeremy Waldron and Stuart Hampshire, recognises that reasonable disagreement extends to matters of justice as well as the good, he draws our attention to the basic procedural element of democracy (to hearing the other side) and the significance of this for treating others with equal respect. In so doing Bellamy reminds us of the basic importance of democracy at a time when, like Brettschneider, many democratic theorists are keen to extend and enrich the meaning of democracy with the insights of liberal conceptions of justice. Secondly, because Bellamy is much more comfortable with and appreciative of the significance of the rough and tumble of politics that is all too often smoothed away by legal constitutionalists and deliberative democrats, he does the great service of reminding us of the important role that political actions (such as bargaining and compromising) and political institutions (such as political parties and various electoral systems) have to play as (democratic) alternatives to judicial intervention in the upholding of rights. This does not mean that what Bellamy has to say is without problem; he downplays the value of judicial review and exaggerates the case for democratic majoritarianism (both politically and philosophically). Yet given the dominance of constitutional liberalism in the recent literature (to which Brettschneider's book is an impressive addition) it is refreshing and important to hear the other side of the story.
Richard North
(University of Birmingham)
Robert Bishop explores in a critical fashion the various premises and methodologies of the social sciences in an effort to unveil the hidden assumptions and prejudices which they involve. He successfully argues that this is an important endeavour since in the understanding of social inquiry lies a picture of human beings that permeates our institutions and policies. In this sense, a central and thought-provoking feature of his analysis concerns the myth of the value neutrality of social sciences. This deceiving characterisation emerges from the positivist desire of conceiving social sciences as if they were natural sciences: such is the ‘physics-envy’ (p. 141) that has pervaded the self-understanding of the disciplines in question.
Although this book is presented as an introductory textbook for advanced undergraduate and postgraduate students in philosophy and social sciences, it is far from being merely descriptive or purely informative. Bishop's argument is primarily directed at dissolving the subject-object model and the instrumental conception of actions and reason in the social sciences, his alternative being to offer a rather contextual and dialogical account of each: since experiences, values and meanings influence and shape both the inner self and the world ‘out there’ (p. 71), he posits that a conversational frame should be central to investigating and thinking on human action and behaviour. This is a hermeneutic model underpinned by the idea that social sciences are undertaken within and not from a point beyond the context of their object of study.
Although welcome, this proposal also generates some doubts. Bishop convincingly offers an account of the impossibility of value-neutral social sciences, but his ambivalence about the need for value-free social inquiry is problematic. His idea that in so far as we are aware of the values we hold and their effect on our research, and that as long as these values are not ‘enmeshed in sexism, racism or hyper-individualism’ (p. 147) we may not want to root them out, does not escape from those same criticisms that Bishop applies against alternative accounts. This distinction between acceptable and unacceptable values seems biased and ungrounded and, unless we accept a thick liberalism that Bishop labels as partisan and morally loaded, there is no argument for endorsing a liberally laden account instead of a competing alternative.
Nonetheless, these difficulties do not undermine the value of the book as a whole, which should be seen as a helpful development towards a better understanding of the particular nature of the social sciences.
Alfonso Donoso
(University of York)
The Liberal Democrat History Group, as its name suggests, is a study group dedicated to historical research and discussion on the Liberal Democrats (and both predecessor parties —; the Liberals and the Social Democratic party [SDP]) and on liberalism as a political philosophy in general. The group has compiled and published several reference books on liberalism, including the Dictionary of Liberal Biography and the Dictionary of Liberal Quotations. Now, in its most recent publication, the group has looked at the broader history of liberalism in the Dictionary of Liberal Thought, a book which claims to cover the key theorists, ideas and organisations that have shaped more than three centuries of liberal philosophy in Great Britain.
The Dictionary of Liberal Thought is organised alphabetically, but the ideas, organisations and thinkers included in the text have their own separate indexes for quick reference. The book's scope is slightly broader than might be expected —; the entries on individuals, for instance, include not only classical liberals such as John Locke and John Stuart Mill but also individuals who have contributed to the overall development of British liberal thought, such as John Milton and Edmund Burke. More modern ‘liberals’ given a place in the dictionary include former Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau, Labour MP Anthony Crosland and academic and Liberal Democrat peer Conrad Russell. Seemingly contrary ideologies and philosophies of liberalism are likewise included; barely three dozen pages separate Keynesianism and libertarianism, for instance. A brief summary of the key ideas and a short list of suggested further readings on the individual, idea or organisation in question serve as the introduction and conclusion to each of the entries in the dictionary.
Liberalism has had almost as many definitions as it has had people to define it, and the changing philosophies and ideologies that have accompanied these shifting perceptions of liberalism make it a challenge to compile a concise but comprehensive dictionary on the subject. As a reference book, the Dictionary of Liberal Thought provides a single-volume resource for those who are interested in studying these changing perceptions. And even though the dictionary's primary focus is on British liberalism, the wide-reaching range of entries may prove useful to those curious about liberalism as it developed in Europe and America.
Shannon Granville
(Independent Scholar)
The editors have assembled ten chapters, each of which addresses a significant aspect of Phillip Pettit's work. The first two essays —; by Cynthia and Graham Macdonald and by Peter Menzies —; tackle the problem of mental causation and the ‘program model’ advocated by Pettit. Susan Hurley and Alva Noë discuss Pettit's explanation of colour in terms of the manifest powers of colours to enable particular responses. T. M. Scanlon considers the structure of rationality in the context of Pettit's contributions to the relationship between rationality and norms. Richard Holton examines Pettit's work on free will. John Ferejohn provides an analysis of the issue of conversability and the discursive dilemma. Jeremy Waldron develops his critique of Pettit's conception of republican liberty. John Braithwaite explores the idea of a republic as a contestory democracy and its implications for the decentralisation of power. Nicola Lacey considers institutional design in the arena of criminal justice in the light of arguments about responsibility. Rae Langton considers the role of silence in political debate.
Merely listing these topics identifies this as a collection of unusually broad scope. And identifying the authors goes a long way towards suggesting the quality of the debate. Each essay is a serious, detailed and critical work —; Pettit does not get an easy ride. If that were the end of it, the book might be thought to suffer from the problem of being less than the sum of its parts. But the book does not end there. In such books there is often a ‘response to my critics’ type of final chapter. But here this idea has been developed into an extended essay of some 125 pages in which Philip Pettit attempts not only to respond to the various contributions but also to connect together the various themes and restate some of the particular arguments in a way that emphasises their interconnections.
As is clear from the essays collected here, Pettit's perspective on each of a number of issues from metaphysics to political regulation is controversial. These controversies connect and are of considerable importance, and this volume, as a whole, both interrogates some of the micro-level details and surveys the macro-level programme. While some readers may initially suspect that some significant part of the material here will lie beyond their interests, my experience is that this suspicion will be rejected on reading.
Alan Hamlin
(University of Manchester)
Since Hegel wrote each of his works (after the Phenomenology) as instantiations of a larger, metaphysical system, commentators are faced with a difficult question: how much of his system should one engage to elucidate, appropriate or critique any of its parts? The answer depends on whether one is interested in exegesis or contemporary problem solving. Thom Brooks chooses exegesis, advocating a ‘weak systematic approach’ in his book, which seeks ‘to break new ground and forever change the views of commentators who believe we can understand the Philosophy of Right without reference to Hegel's larger system’ (p. 11). His aim is thus not to provide a comprehensive reading —; taking us step by step down the path from abstract to concrete personality and right —; but rather to elucidate certain elements of the Philosophy of Right within Hegel's system. These include: property; punishment; morality; family; law; monarchy; and war. Brooks' book is, therefore, neither directed at the uninitiated, nor intended as an introductory text. It is rather a series of critical engagements with secondary literature on Hegel's political thought.
Despite the harsh tone taken towards perceived methodological foes —; ‘I will leave the task of selling Hegel to others’ (p. 10) —; Brooks himself rarely looks beyond Hegel's political text. This is not to say that Brooks is wrong to consider Hegel's metaphysics as essential to understanding his political philosophy, but rather that much of Hegel's metaphysics is addressed within the Philosophy of Right. What is missing, i.e. an account of the historical and dialectical unfolding of Spirit and the nation state's place within it, is not, however, taken up by Brooks. Neither are Hegel's notions of concept, idea, self, subjectivity, capitalism or the social contract. The chapters are also relatively inconsistent in their treatment of historical context. While Kant dominates the chapter on morality, Rousseau, Grotius, Pufendorf, Locke, Kant and most importantly, Fichte, are absent from the chapter on Hegel's theory of law. Lastly, Brooks does not engage the work of scholars who share his espoused methodology, such as Adriaan Peperzak's Modern Freedom (Kluwer, 2001), the most systematic reading of Hegel's political philosophy available. The only mention of Peperzak's text is in a footnote where he is criticised for not turning ‘his attention to the Philosophy of Right until p. 174’ (p. 137). That Peperzak's text is almost 700 pages, and that the first few hundred pages outline elements of Hegel's system necessary for a systematic understanding of his political thought, curiously goes unmentioned.
Chad Kautzer
(University of Colorado)
The aim of this volume is to bring together a range of commissioned chapters that survey and extend the theoretical and empirical research undertaken from the rational choice perspective on the interrelated issues of democratic constitutional design and the impact of alternative detailed constitutional structures on political and economic performance. The collection consists of twelve chapters and a useful introduction, and focuses on five broad areas of the constitutional landscape: electoral systems; legislative structure; decentralisation and federalism; legal institutions; and the stability of constitutions over time. The editors have assembled a distinguished list of authors from economics and politics, including Torsten Persson and Guido Tabellini, Barry Weingast, Dennis Mueller and Bruno Frey.
The literatures that attempt to provide a relatively detailed and comparative analysis of the likely consequences of particular constitutional constructs, and empirical assessments of the differential performance of differently constituted political structures, is relatively young and still somewhat crude. Some might object that by limiting attention to the rational choice perspective, this collection ignores other viewpoints, although in truth much of the empirical work surveyed here should be of interest well beyond the rational choice community. Others might object that by looking for impacts of constitutional structure on broadly economic and policy-related phenomena, these literatures are ignoring other potentially important, and more qualitative, implications of constitutional design. This may well be the case, but it should be taken as a spur to other researchers rather than a criticism of this project. At present, we have only a patchy and partial understanding of, for example, the impact of bicameralism or the effects of alternative voting rules, and still less of the interaction between such structural issues. The chapters presented here do a good job both of informing the reader of the current state of play in these literatures and introducing some of the modes of analysis. The authors provide some preliminary and tentative, but nevertheless interesting, conclusions —; for example, that plurality voting systems tend to provide greater accountability than systems of proportional representation, and that these two electoral systems also result in rather different patterns of public expenditure. They also offer some diagnoses of what makes some constitutions stable while others (the majority) fail.
Alan Hamlin
(University of Manchester)
Re-Presenting the Good Society rests on an important insight: if critical theory is to be possible it must reconcile the ideals of immanence and transcendence. Cooke's proposed reconciliation is perceived by her to address the central problematic of contemporary critical theory, while the failure of previous critiques is a failure to strike the appropriate balance between the two ideals. The claims of immanence are those of a situated reason that takes off from the intuitions and expectations of those involved, via processes of open-ended, all-inclusive and fair deliberation. For critique to get beyond the Rortian conventional ‘we’, however, to permit its applicability trans-contextually and to see paradigm shifts as rationally motivated rather than arbitrary or power based, the commitment to situated reason must coexist with a pari pasu commitment to sufficient context-transcending validity. Whereas immanence without sufficient transcendence results in a self-defeating contextualism (Rorty, Butler, Laclau), transcendence without sufficient immanence leads invariably to one or another form of authoritarianism (Marx, Adorno, Negri).
This, at least, is the central thesis of the book and what follows is a wide-ranging, lucid and authoritative attempt to do justice to the two ideals by circumspectly sublating the insights of competing critical-theoretic traditions and carefully neutralising possible objections. This results in a unique synthesis and an argument which is in many respects compelling.
Despite her obvious command of the literature, clear exposition and persuasive argumentative style, all evident here, the work is not beyond rebuke. Her choice of interlocutors is somewhat orthodox and predictable; alternative critical thinkers might at times have been more appropriate and helpful. Both MacIntyre 1 and Bhaskar 2 have been working on the immanence/ transcendence problematic in their respective ways since the 1970s within a post-Marxist framework. The latter's non-reductionist naturalism in particular might help caution Cooke from venturing too far down the currently fashionable anti-science road and curb her confessed aversion to causal-explanatory analyses.
On a second count, she admonishes Adorno and Negri for their ‘authoritarianism’ in resisting the liberal-individualistic model of rational agency, yet her own somewhat cavalier commitment to intentional agency sits in tension with a ‘Rousseauean’ acknowledgement that human nature is not given but malleable, and formed by context (p. 2). This suggests room for further consideration of the way in which the dialectic between universal and particular plays out on the subjective level, in terms of, for example, the competing polarities of freedom and determinism, or structure and agency. This might then also enable a more differentiated account of the scope and tasks of critical theory.
Nonetheless, this is an authoritative, timely and engaging work and will no doubt further cement Cooke's reputation as one of the most important critical thinkers on the contemporary scene.
Philip O'Hanlon
(Queen's University Belfast)
Since his death in November 1997, Isaiah Berlin, one of the leading members of the English intellectual ‘aristocracy’, has enjoyed an ambiguous legacy, somewhat out of tune with the accolades bestowed on him during his lifetime. This has much to do with the nature of Berlin's contribution to English intellectual life, which usually took the form of learned, but decidedly un-academic, essays in intellectual history, political theory and literary criticism. Generally regarded as a superb essayist, and equally renowned for his talents as a lecturer and raconteur, Berlin was long viewed as a gifted conversationalist, even the most learned man in Oxford, but, fundamentally, a sensitive expositor of the thoughts of others. His essays in the history of ideas were highly regarded, while his inaugural lecture,Two Concepts of Liberty, attained canonical status, but the view persisted that Berlin's insight and erudition did not translate well into academic scholarship. He might have said a great deal, but, like Our Lord and Socrates, he published very little, to paraphrase a witticism by Maurice Bowra.
Few have done more to dispel this notion than Henry Hardy and George Crowder, who, in addition to their individual labours, have ably edited this important volume of critical essays, whose apposite title, The One and the Many, is an allusion to Berlin's essay on Tolstoy's divided artistic personality. Significantly, of the fourteen essays in the collection, four explore neglected, but intellectually central, areas of Berlin's thought: his early work on Marx, his contribution to Russian Studies, his engagement with Zionism, as well as his early political thought, before the publication of Two Concepts of Liberty. Although the editors have not privileged one aspect of Berlin's thought over others, these four essays, especially those by Andrzej Walicki and Shlomo Avineri, make clear that his work on Zionism and the ‘Russian Question’ forms the core of his response to the ‘short’ twentieth century. While Berlin's contributions to political theory are significant, his concentration on these themes provides the moral ‘source’ of his work, while his excursions into political philosophy offer a translation, into the ‘language’ of political theory, of his reflections on Russian intellectual history and the Jewish experience of modernity. While this volume makes many valuable contributions to our understanding of Berlin's legacy, it is the subtle and probing essays on Russian and Jewish themes that make it such an insightful appraisal of Berlin's achievement.
Mark Bode
(University of Adelaide)
Dorter aims to prove that the Republic is not a compilation of material written at different times but a unified book. Its apparent discontinued structure responds to Plato's conscious choice to explain fully the world of forms and its relation to the visible world.
Dorter argues that Plato introduces concepts in their simplest form before gradually complicating them until they reflect their form, so that even those placed in the visible world can understand the intelligible one. To do this, according to Dorter, Plato uses levels of the ‘divided line’ to explain what justice and goodness are. To explain these concepts he alternates the use of eikasia (thinking in images about visible things such as shadows and reflections [Books 1 and 10]) and pistis (opinions through which the visible world itself is observed [Books 2–4 and 8–9]) with dianoia (visible images for thinking about the intelligible world, as with the simile of the captain) and noesis (intellectual intuition, a level of understanding that cannot use images and which rests exclusively in rationality [Books 5-7]). As a result, ‘the dialogue as a whole provides an image of the progress of the prisoners who ascend through stages to a vision of the ultimate principle, and transformed by that vision, return to the cave to benefit their successors’ (p. 8).
This book is ideal for those approaching Plato and the Republic for the first time, as it explains clearly its structure and the meaning of the similes, concepts and opposites needed to arrive at the Idea of the Good. There are only two major criticisms to be made. First, Dorter relates the theories of some more contemporary authors such as Marx, Freud and J. S. Mill to Plato's influence, but it is unclear why he selects these authors in particular to emphasise Plato's role in political theory. Second, the final chapter, ‘The Limits of the Timaeus’, does not sit well with the rest of the book, because even if the Timaeus is ‘the Republic's sequel’ (p. 351), the chapter's contribution to achieving a better understanding of the Republic is questionable.
Olalla L. Segade
(University of Sheffield)
Hackett Press continues its tradition of publishing thoughtfully edited volumes of political thought with the ‘American Heritage’ series edition of The Social and Political Thought of American Progressivism. This volume is edited and introduced by Eldon J. Eisenach and his expertise is evident in the succinct introduction that prefaces the assembly of representative writings that comprise this volume. ‘The ideas and institutions of the Progressives’, Eisenach notes, ‘outlasted, and had a much greater influence on American political institutions and culture than their efforts in the party-electoral and legislative arenas; these coherent, enduring ideals will be the focus of this collection’ (p. vii).
The text is effectively organised. Each chapter is prefaced with a brief editorial introduction and each selection includes a biographical account of the specific author. Every section is clearly dated, thus enabling readers to situate temporally the ideas expressed in the sundry writings. Helpful suggestions for further reading close each chapter.
The collection begins with proto-Progressives including David Francis Bacon. Next, democracy and the common good appear in the work of thinkers such as Herbert Croly. The relationship between society and political economy is taken up by Richard Ely, John Bates Clark and others. John Dewy and Herbert Croly, among others, speculate about the possibility of a ‘democratic public’, and consider the relationship between the law, the state and the economy, and labour too. Modern-day Progressives may be especially interested in the section on the ‘social gospel’ and ‘social Christianity’, addressed by Zane Batten et al. Women and families are fittingly represented in the work of Jane Addams and others. The collection ends by recounting the successes of Progressivism in the US and suggests its potential to affect the world in a positive way.
Instructors interested in facilitating learning in an introductory survey course on American Progressive thought —; especially those who desire to address the multiple facets of Progressivism in a relatively short time —; will find this volume useful. For more advanced courses, however, this text may not enable students to delve deeply enough into the social and political thought of any one Progressive thinker. If the latter is the goal, reliance upon full primary texts is recommended. That said, The Social and Political Thought of American Progressivism does precisely what one would expect an approximately 300-page anthology to do —; and it does it quite well.
Jeffrey D. Hilmer
(Merrimack College)
This book brings together eight essays on cultural politics in postmodernity, including contributions by such significant names as Chantal Mouffe, Edward Said and Mark Bevir. The collection examines how democratic values originating from the Enlightenment fare in the postmodern world. The contributors explore how democracy can respond to the challenges/problems raised by postmodernity, and rewrite democratic codes/values to ensure their survival. The book does not try to produce a single vision; it is not ‘a collection where everything concentrates in one direction … these chapters exfoliate in several different directions and … registers' (pp. xi-xii).
The first chapter, by Ermarth, sets up the topic, acting as an introduction rather than an essay with its own objective/vision. Ermarth explains what postmodernity is, its historical context and its importance. She gets bogged down in the postmodern theory of language, but provides an excellent discussion on what differentiates modernist pluralism and postmodern difference, and why this leads to different political visions: a modernist politics, striving for consensus, and a postmodern politics which avoids trying to reconcile/resolve difference. Ermarth exposes the challenge postmodernity poses to our current system of beliefs, asking, ‘can democracy survive these changes to the value system it inherited from the Renaissance?’ (p. 5). Her response is that yes, it can, and in fact, postmodernity could be good for democracy, if we allow it to revolutionise and rewrite democracy. Indeed, the working hypothesis of Rewriting Democracy is that postmodernity offers ‘profound and positive possibilities … [for] the renewal of democratic systems' (p. 6).
The postmodern political vision elucidated by Ermarth at the end of chapter 1 —; a politics based around individualism and difference —; is further articulated in chapters 2 and 3. Said tries to foster individualism through education; he wants people to think for themselves and become sceptical/dissenting, thinking against authority/orthodoxy. Mouffe provides a polemic against consensus and deliberative democracy and promotes a politics of perpetual contest. Chapters 4 and 5 illustrate the link between postmodernity and ‘the left’, arguing that post-foundationalism, which rests on individuals' dependence on community, requires equality and social justice. However, the book loses some coherence in chapters 6 and 7. Chapter 6 provides an interesting look at the sociology of feminism but does not engage with the ideas of a postmodern politics or democracy. And although chapter 7 returns to the core themes of the book such as universalism and particularism, the context hinges on a discussion of French politics and Bourdieu, which does not fit with the overall project of Rewriting Democracy. However, chapter 8 provides an important original argument which illustrates how democracy and postmodernity can accommodate absolutist positions, for example the Christian who believes in the absolute system of God.
Chris Hughes
(University of Manchester)
This text begins as it means to go on with a readable introduction that helpfully draws together the main threads of the literature in political philosophy on the public/private distinction. I have to admit that I chose this book for review based only on the title and I was expecting a political economy volume. I am therefore an interested, but non-expert reader: exactly the kind who needs an accessible style and a real ‘introduction’.
Various interesting themes are introduced; especially fascinating is the discussion around the feminist perspective from which the author manages to pull contemporary value out of a tricky theoretical and historical perspective. It is striking that in the tussle between private and public there is little glory for either the left or right of the political spectrum. Subjects such as dodgy data disks and post-9/11 intrusions into privacy are covered in the chapter on technology. The philosophical underpinnings of increasing technological sophistication are linked to contemporary and historical issues from outing gays to accessing medical records.
Sex is entered into with brio. The North American puritanical Christian tradition is examined while romantic love and sexual orientation are more or less convincingly linked to the central theme of the book. However, I had the feeling that the mass of material available regarding attitudes to, and legal-political change regarding, same-sex relationships dictated the in-depth coverage as much as the undoubted importance of the issue. I would have welcomed more wide-ranging examples and analysis of the role of prudery and prejudice. Perhaps an examination of the coverage of UK footballers' exploits by the tabloid press?
The discussion around contemporary moral issues regarding intellectual property rights (often downloading pirated music to you and I) is also raised. For a slightly heterodox economist such as I am, the notion of ideas being public or private property that is excludable or not is enhanced by seeing it in this broader context.
This book is useful in the particular, but even more useful in the general sense for pointing to inherent paradoxes in a world that detests speed cameras, loves internet banking, still has vapours about what gay men get up to in private but continues to be addicted to reality TV.
Stuart Astill
(Department for Work and Pensions)
Justice, Democracy and Reasonable Agreement addresses a question central to the vocation of political theory: should political theory seek to be ‘practical’ in its orientation and engage the issues confronting the residents of existing societies, or is such an approach not only unnecessary but, more importantly, undesirable, a bastardisation of the ‘true’ purpose of political theory? The distinction in question is that between ‘ideal’ theory and ‘non-ideal’ theory; the former focuses on identifying abstract principles that can serve to generate ‘the kind of world we want to have’ (p. x), while the latter attempts to respond to the challenges associated with life in the ‘real’ world. Farrelly argues forcefully in favour of a practical/non-ideal approach to political theorising about matters of distributive justice. In making his case, Farrelly examines the ‘principle-oriented’ theories of justice developed by a number of the most famous and influential contemporary political theorists, including John Rawls, Ronald Dworkin, Robert Nozick, Philippe van Parijs, Michael Otsuka and Robert Goodin, and concludes that all are guilty of ‘adopt[ing] a cost-blind approach to rights and a narrow view of possible human misfortune’ (p. 7, emphasis in original) which, in turn, generate ‘impotent or misguided normative prescriptions’ (p. 6) and often ‘make democracy and politics superfluous’ (p. xii).
As an alternative, Farrelly proposes a ‘virtue-oriented’ theory of justice, which he labels ‘civic liberalism’, ‘that seeks to take seriously the moral and pragmatic demands of toleration, civility and fairness’ (p. 23) —; the three ‘central civic virtues’ on which he focuses. He applies his theory to various significant policy issues present in existing affluent liberal democracies in order to demonstrate its ability to overcome many of the problems that trouble principle-oriented theories. Farrelly suggests that the end result of his efforts is a theory of distributive justice ‘that combines our forward-looking aspirations with an appreciation of the empirical realities of liberal, unequal, multicultural societies that exist in an era of rapid globalization’ (p. xii).
If the ultimate purpose of political theory is to improve the human condition —; a proposition it seems reasonable to believe all political theorists would endorse —; then surely its potential for concretely doing so will be significantly determined by the degree to which it considers and responds to the complexities and challenges associated with life in the ‘real’ world. Justice, Democracy and Reasonable Agreement offers a theory of distributive justice that thoughtfully and productively embraces such a belief, and the discipline would be well served by ensuring widespread engagement with Farrelly's study.
Shaun P. Young
(Carleton University, Ottawa)
Philosophical traditions come and go. Canons are revised. Philosophers are canonised at one point and ignored at another. Some sink below the surface. John Grote, the brother of the better known nineteenth-century Whig historian of ancient Greece, George Grote, is one particular figure who has suffered from such neglect. John Grote spent his working life as a cleric and university teacher in Cambridge; in fact, he was Knightsbridge Professor of Moral Philosophy. Like T. H. Green he died comparatively young, at 53 years old, leaving many unfinished manuscripts. Regrettably many of these manuscripts were destroyed by his literary executor Joseph Mayor in 1916. Consequently Grote has not really figured much in writings about nineteenth-century thought, with the exception of atypical commentators such as F. C. Copleston and John Passmore. The present volume is clearly a labour of love, going back to Gibbins' doctoral work some four decades ago. The book will no doubt, for the present, become the standard text on Grote. The study is linked closely to Gibbins' work on the remaining Grote archive, which does provide some insights into the intellectual Victorian milieu. The major question focused on is: how could a Cambridge philosopher in the 1860s produce such a sophisticated statement of Idealism before the advent of the more famous Oxford Idealist movement of the 1870s? This, in turn, necessitates a reassessment of the standard histories of nineteenth-century British thought. Gibbins considers Grote's work as comparable to that of T. H. Green and Henry Sidgwick, in terms of its overall achievements. Grote provided powerful responses to many key issues in Victorian thought. He developed, for example, his own distinctive vision of a liberal tolerant society. He also constructed a number of perceptive critiques of nineteenth-century positivism, empiricism and utilitarianism, as well as formulating one of the more effective early statements of Idealism (an idealism developed independently of Hegelian influence). For Gibbins, Grote is someone who —; in his unusual commitment to the thesis that language exists prior to thought, that meaning lies in use and that use of language develops in the context of social relations and conventions —; prefigures the work of both Wittgenstein and Oakeshott, among others. Oakeshott curiously even admits his intellectual debt to Grote. Gibbins, probably a little optimistically, suggests that Grote's writings are still serviceable today, providing a balanced response to anti- and post-foundationalist argumentation. Overall Gibbins' book is a valuable contribution to the study of nineteenth-century thought.
Andrew Vincent
(University of Sheffield)
What is nationalism? Is it a feeling, an identity, an ideology, a social movement or a historical process? Is it inherently human or is it something invented? These points remain contentious in social sciences, spanning disciplines such as politics, sociology, history and anthropology.
Rethinking Nationalism: A Critical Introduction offers an interdisciplinary and innovative analysis of nationalism. Although Jonathan Hearn does not aim to propose a new theory of nationalism, agreeing with most scholars that perhaps it is impossible to advance a single unified theory, he tackles the major debates in the field. The book begins with an analysis of various definitions of nationalism. Rather than detailing all major theories, it then focuses on two of the most dominant, namely primordialist and modernist. Hearn's main argument is that power and culture are dominant forces for the understanding of nationalism. He argues that the theories of nationalism find a common source in these two concepts. In his opinion, power and culture are transhistorical processes and dominant forces at the very core of the institutional organisation of societies. From this perspective, the diversity of means and methods derived from power and culture are influential in the construction of the nation.
The book is written in an accessible style for both novices and advanced scholars in the field. A particular feature is that chapters have insertions with references to useful historical examples and invite the reader to consult further readings. Drawing from interdisciplinary sources and offering an engaging critique of the main theories, the book is a welcome contribution to the study of nationalism.
Lucian N. Leustean
(Aston University)
As with other volumes in the ‘Re-Reading the Canon’ series, this anthology seeks to disrupt the often one-dimensional interpretations of canonical figures in the history of Western political theory from a broadly feminist perspective. The editors have succeeded by assembling a superb collection of essays reflecting the tension and ambiguity of John Locke's thoughts and silences on gender, women and patriarchy by Mary Lyndon Shanley, Teresa Brennan, Carole Pateman, Melissa A. Butler, Gordon Schochet, Nancy J. Hirschmann, Terrell Carver, Joanne H. Wright, Jeremy Waldron, Carol Pech and Linda M. G. Zerilli.
Avoiding the danger of supplanting one narrow reading with another, the editors have chosen essays divergent in orientation (liberal, democratic and postmodern) and method (historical, philosophical and interdisciplinary), addressing texts and topics spanning Locke's political, epistemic, religious, economic and even medical writings. Each essay is scholarly and well argued, making this an important volume in Locke scholarship, seventeenth-century political theory and gender studies. It would also serve as a useful resource for readings in survey and introductory courses, giving counterpoint to traditional secondary literature on Locke, or Locke's own work.
Since some of the first published articles in feminist political theory engaged Locke's work and are anthologised here, this volume also reflects something of the trajectory of feminist political theory over the past three decades. This complementary history itself becomes reflexive when ‘classic’ essays such as Shanley's ‘Marriage Contract and Social Contract in Seventeenth-Century English Political Thought’, Butler's ‘Early Liberal Roots of Feminism: John Locke's Attack on Patriarchy’ and Pateman and Brennan's ‘Mere Auxiliaries to the Commonwealth: Women and the Origins of Liberalism’ are followed by their own ‘re-readings’ or afterwords written by the authors specifically for this volume —; except, in part, for the last. The exception is Brennan's contribution, begun in 2002 but left unfinished due to her untimely death. It is included here together with Pateman's own reflections.
That Locke enjoys a more ambiguous position in contemporary feminist thought than, say, Aristotle, Machiavelli, Rousseau or Mill is attributable to the ambiguity of gender in his work. The tension between the implicit inclusion of women in his Enlightenment universalism and his explicit claims about the necessity of male dominance in family and political life is productively interrogated in this versatile volume. It is a tension all too prevalent today, making this anthology relevant far beyond the particular context of Locke's own thought.
Chad Kautzer
(University of Colorado)
John Hoffman's book sets out to introduce, briefly and succinctly, key concepts and thinkers in the political tradition. The selection, based on the experience of the author, is made according to those terms most used by teachers and is intended to offer students both historical context and contemporary significance. What connects the entries of this glossary is the claim that it is theory, due to its potential to be presented abstractly, that alienates students from political theory.
As such, Hoffman aims to present theoretical concepts by relating them to present political realities, thereby making them engaging for students today. Furthermore, the author adopts the premise that politics cannot be studied without theory, claiming that politics without a theoretical background is seriously lacking, a claim which I avidly support but was disappointed not to find further developed within the introduction. It is quite unfortunate today that politics is all too often approached, and limited to, a quantitative approach without recourse to conceptual tools which, once properly understood, often help to clarify empirical facts. Hoffman is quite explicit about his contention that all normative theories are connected to empirical facts and have ethical consequences. Once again, while I agree, I would have hoped for further elucidation of this position for the sake of the students using this glossary.
Turning to the entries, Hoffman seeks both to present the ‘traditional usage’ and his own, recognisably quirky position. While the latter does make several of the entries more engaging and accessible, the downside is that it leads to several gaps. While no glossary can be complete, Hoffman's own position and preferences are perhaps too clear —; based on his entry on postmodernism (probably the weakest entry of all). This weakness is also apparent in his discussion of Schmitt and the tradition of political agonism, and the lack of a distinct entry for the political (or French political thinkers such as Raymond Aron). Yet these gaps are complemented by a few original entries, such as Hoffman's notion of momentum concepts, which brings to light the relationship between theory and practice as well as the importance of historical context. This book is aimed at students in an introduction to political theory course or who are studying politics but are somewhat thrown by the theory that is being referred to by their lecturer. For both audiences this is an easily manoeuvrable text written in a very accessible manner.
Anya Topolski
(Catholic University of Leuven)
Hegel's work is so multidimensional and comprehensive, indeed, almost imperialistic in its annexation of world history, that it never ceases to inspire and frustrate, particularly in uncertain times for political theory. David James' book is a defence of Hegel's theory of subjectivity, which he interprets as justifying political resistance —; a conclusion that Hegel either did not recognise or dared not articulate. James situates his interpretation between two rather extreme readings of Hegel. The first, attributed to Kierkegaard, holds that Hegel simply suppresses subjectivity, while the second, attributed to Charles Taylor, holds that Hegelian subjectivity is ‘an absolute independence of anything other than oneself’ (p. 2). James splits the difference, claiming that Hegel does integrate subjectivity into a social whole (Sittlichkeit), but retains a robust concept of individuality.
Of the five chapters in James' book, which assumes a familiarity with German Idealism, the first four are exegetical and defend Hegel's theory. The final chapter contains James' thesis that ‘Hegel's conception of right … implies that the poor do indeed have a right of rebellion because society, in virtue of the way in which it is organized, prevents them from giving existence to their own subjective wills' (p. 126). James is speaking here of capitalism, which Hegel innovatively recognised as structurally producing inequality and poverty. The latter is an unresolved problem for Hegel, since private property is necessary for the manifestation of individual will, yet he never ascribes a right of rebellion to the poor. James, however, claims that he must.
Contra James, it is the sovereign's duty, not the individual's right, to provide the means for materialising subjective will in Hegel. The poor are by definition excluded from right —; right follows from social recognition beginning in property, not vice versa —; which is why Left Hegelians, such as Marx, never argued for rebellion in terms of rights. James is here giving a liberal reading to an old Left Hegelian argument, but because the Left and Right Hegelian positions of the 1830s and 1840s are not discussed, one must look beyond James' text for this context. Indeed, 150 years of secondary literature on Hegel's theory of subjectivity and poverty is absent from James' account and those, like Taylor, who are mentioned, enjoy a swift and misleading presence. Overall, James has largely restated Hegel's own treatment of subjectivity and the reader is left wondering what problems have been solved or theoretical innovations provided by his text.
Chad Kautzer
(University of Colorado)
This book is meant as a brief introduction to the quintessential questions surrounding the concepts of objectivity and the rule of law. As such, it is a book of the highest quality. Kramer does well to approach this discussion in a logical fashion. The first chapter of the book jumps head first into the field of objectivity. As with all of Kramer's books, it is methodical in its presentation of the major sub-categories of objectivity; the sub-categories are not merely described, but are offered by means of persuasive argument. An example: Kramer illustrates that one of the hotly contested debates within objectivity and the law is the sceptic's argument against judicial discretion —; the claim that granting legal officials discretion when coming to certain specific legal decisions undermines the legal system's claim to being objective. Kramer counters this claim convincingly and argues that such a sceptical account has confused a vital distinction: ‘the distinction between a liability-to-undergo-punitive-measures and the actual undergoing of punitive measures … the sheer fact that the officials responsible for enforcing legal requirements are vested with discretion in carrying out their task is not sufficient to undermine the objectivity of the working of their legal regime’ (p. 29). This sort of explanation by means of argument is rampant throughout the first chapter of the book, achieving both an introduction to objectivity and arguments in favour of law's objectivity.
Chapter 2 conducts a similar exercise concerning the elements comprising what Kramer understands as the rule of law. At the outset Kramer gives a fresh account of his jurisprudential loyalties as an inclusive legal positivist and then proceeds to illustrate what comprises the rule of law. The claim is that the rule of law is made up of two elements: ‘Firstly, as a general juristic phenomenon … Secondly … [in a liberal democracy] it is a morally cherishable expression of commitment to the dignity and equality of individuals' (p. 102). Kramer is drawing heavily from Lon Fuller here, and does well to do so. The rest of the chapter is dedicated to a discussion of Fuller's ‘eight principles of legality’ (Fuller, 1969).
In the final chapter Kramer offers a compelling and highly original account of the objectivity of the rule of law and it is here that he takes this text from an outstanding introduction of the topic to a convincing argument for the rule of law's objectivity. As with all of Kramer's texts, the prose complements the discussion. However, one word of advice: equip yourself with a good dictionary before taking on this book, for while the vocabulary may be overwhelming at times, it is well worth the effort.
Britain Brady
(University of York)
Political Keywords contains 66 short essays collected together in a free-standing though cohesive manner, which work together as a dictionary of the discipline. While the choice of words to include in this type of publication must of necessity be a subjective undertaking, some of the explanations appear overly subjective and reflect the author's view on political processes and phenomena. This is particularly obvious in all the entries connected to political values (such as liberty or equality), though much less observable when it comes to more neutral categories (such as terrorism or revolution).
The author claims that when selecting the keywords his first criterion was the importance of the word: ‘The prime consideration motivating the inclusion of the entries in this volume was therefore my sense of the need to (re)familiarize readers with the cogent and still vital universe of discourse’ (pp. 3-4). However, a European reader will be very aware of the author's American context. The book concentrates on categories of particular importance to American politics as well as American political scientists, whereas in some cases it ignores such fundamental phenomena and processes (in the European context) as regional integration, which is the key word to understanding politics on this side of the Atlantic.
After the explanation for each term there are suggestions for further reading and the potential further interest of the reader is directed to the most valuable volumes in the enormous literature on each topic. The volume concludes with a glossary which comprises short explanations for some of the words used in the essays, which might not be understandable to a more general readership.
Rafal Riedel
(University of Opole, Poland)
Lewin seeks to challenge a range of intellectual motifs in political science, which, he argues, undermine the notion of politics as purposive rational activity and hence suggest that politicians cannot meaningfully be held accountable for their actions. He develops this analysis in thematic chapters, each discussing the intellectual origins and political science manifestations of one such argument, then critiquing it through an empirical counter-example.
Politicians are, he argues, not prisoners of historical forces, whether structural or ideological. Some strategic choices, such as the US policy makers' decision to implement the Marshall Plan, not only radically affect historical outcomes, but are contingent and contested. Nor are policy makers deprived of choice by inherent tendencies towards conflict in the international system or the recent globalisation of the world economy. The formation of the European Economic Community (EEC) in 1957, Lewin argues, shows political actors can opt for deep, long-term cooperation. Tentative international agreements on climate change suggest that the global market is (potentially) subject to political regulation. Neither can we discount politicians' accountability because of the trade-offs and compromises involved in consensus building and coalition formation. Inclusive power-sharing arrangements can simply generate corrupt, collusive political systems.
Lewin also doubts whether accountability is always diminished because politicians' strategies are distorted by self-interested bureaucrats or because social complexity and the longue durée inevitably produce unintended consequences. Margaret Thatcher's reforms of the 1980s show how even a long-established, independently minded civil service can be made to implement policies it dislikes, while successful Social Democratic strategies for Sweden's unemployment insurance system of the 1920s, which aimed to promote unionisation, suggest that long-term consequences can be intended. He concludes with an appeal for a democratic politics centring on choice and competition and a more informed, open and reflexive political class willing and able to face up to issues of democratic accountability.
Lewin's hypothesis that political science agendas inadvertently combine to deny democratic accountability is an arresting one. However, the quality of his book's argumentation largely fails to match its ambition. Authors and cases selected as counter-examples are sometimes idiosyncratic and unconvincing. Italy, for example, is an odd test for Lijphart's consensus democracy model, and Lenin and Hobbes are not perhaps the best representatives of neo-realist views in modern politics. Despite a nod towards Mill's comparative method, the book's broad-brush discussion also offers no compelling argument that cases are genuinely critical rather than simply exceptions proving the rule. Democratic Accountability is thus perhaps best read as an interesting, if undemanding, essay in democratic theory.
Caplan, by contrast, sees democratic accountability as possible, but not highly desirable. Backed by survey evidence, he argues that the failures of democratic governance stem less from the rational ignorance of voters, as traditional Public Choice models suggest, than their irrational anti-liberal economic prejudices. Compared both to professional economists and a minority of well-informed voters, most Americans he finds suffer from marked irrational biases when assessing the working of the economy and economic policy: an anti-market bias stigmatising profit seeking and unequal remuneration as greed; an anti-foreign bias favouring protectionism and autarkic measures costly to most consumers; a ‘make-work’ bias which wrongly sees employment as something to be husbanded and protected, rather than a resource whose input should be minimised; and a pessimistic bias, which wrongly assesses the economic situation and most aspects of economic policy as negative and deteriorating. Adapting the classic ‘rational ignorance’ perspective, Caplan suggests that such biases, in fact, represent ‘rational irrationality’: citizens cling to populist beliefs that bolster psychological well-being and identity when (as in politics) the marginal costs of doing so are low, but behave rationally in consumer markets when confronted with narrower, more immediate cost-benefit decisions.
Such systematic biases, he claims, void conventional Public Choice arguments for the essential rationality of voters such as the use of cognitive short cuts, cues from acquaintances, retrospective voting or the ‘miracle of aggregation’. Rational politicians thus demagogically play to majority economic prejudices, but then ignore campaign promises knowing that the electorate will punish them if the economy deteriorates because its populist nostrums were implemented. This explains why democracies make policy with some degree of efficiency. Contrary to the prevailing ‘democratic fundamentalism’, we are, Caplan concludes, already bumping up against the desirable limits of democracy. We should therefore introduce economic literacy tests for voters and abandon efforts to boost turnout likely to mobilise less educated, less economically rational voters.
Although refreshingly iconoclastic, Caplan is not wholly convincing. The case for systemic voter ignorance seems made, but empirical evidence for ‘rational irrationality’ appears patchy. Even given its US focus, the book's dismissal of self-interested (class-based) voting is sweeping. Politics is often a zero-sum game with clear winners and losers, not (just) an exercise in generating a single, rational socially optimal outcome. Caplan's ‘democratic pessimism’ also seems to point as much to technocratic elitism as to the greater marketisation he clearly favours. His book nevertheless poses considerably more challenging and interesting questions for democratic governance than those tackled by Lewin.
Seán Hanley
(University College London)
Hume is presented here as ‘a precautionary conservative’, which is nearer to being a liberal and a reformer than he is commonly thought to have been. McArthur writes: ‘It has been the task of this book to explain the standards Hume uses for judging certain governments to be better or worse than others, and how these standards are grounded in his philosophy as a whole’ (p. 135). Whereas most commentators on Hume's political philosophy focus particularly upon the relevant passages of Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, McArthur takes a far broader view. He quotes extensively from Hume's voluminous writings on history as well as from many of his other political and philosophical essays. It will come as a surprise to many people to discover how philosophical and speculatively theoretical Hume could be even while he was writing qua historian. According to McArthur and contrary to a commonly held view, ‘Hume's legal and political theory may be seen as a single coherent whole, with the account of justice in the Treatise laying the foundation on which Hume will construct his account of how law functions in a “civilized” society’ (p. 7).
In Hume's view, it is on the calibre of our political institutions rather than that of our politicians that we depend for our liberty and security. The realistic aim of politics is to aspire to be governed by good laws rather than by good men. Good laws, for Hume, are general laws. McArthur proposes and discusses four criteria which, he argues, define what counts as such good laws for Hume. They are: applicability; rigidity; clarity; and the knowledge of their promulgation.
This is a very clearly written book that covers a lot of ground succinctly and elegantly. Its major strength is that it reminds us or makes us aware for the first time of many subtle and interesting features of Hume's remarkably broad range of thought. As a work of exposition it is very successful. McArthur's ability to convey Hume's ideas cogently, economically and enthusiastically is very impressive.
As a polemical work of critique and interpretation, the extent of its merit is less certain. For instance, a coherent political philosophy can, one might agree, be gathered from Hume's intellectual output. It might not be inconsistent with Hume's theories of knowledge and of ethics. However, the notion that it could be ‘grounded’ in them remains tantalising.
Hugh V. McLachlan
(Glasgow Caledonian University)
‘Global justice’, writes David Miller in his new book, ‘must be understood as justice for a world of culturally distinct nation states each of which can legitimately claim a considerable degree of political autonomy’ (p. 278). National Responsibility and Global Justice thus defends a more modest account of global distributive justice than recent cosmopolitan contributions, though in Miller's characteristically clear and constructive way. The core of the book is a careful analysis of responsibility. Miller introduces the notions of outcome responsibility (where an agent is responsible for bearing the benefits and burdens of justice) and remedial responsibility (where an agent is responsible for redressing a wrong); the latter is not triggered by outcome responsibility alone since an agent may, for example, be more capable than others of remedying a situation he or she was not outcome responsible for. Miller goes on to defend the idea that nations as collective agents can be outcome responsible for their activities, as well as remedially responsible.
At a global level, both notions of responsibility raise questions of how, in a world of many states, responsibility should be distributed between them, a question which Miller raises but does not comprehensively address. Members of nations can, he thinks, inherit responsibilities to redress the wrongs of their ancestors. By contrast, richer nations have few obligations to admit migrants from poorer ones. The most controversial chapter in the book is likely to be the one on human rights, where Miller argues that rich nations owe citizens of poorer ones only the minimal rights that would allow them to live decent lives, as well as fair terms of cooperation in order that they can improve their situation, for example through trade.
Cosmopolitans are also unlikely to be convinced by Miller's denial that there is a global economic order that systematically harms the poor. However, Miller's fairly modest articulation of global justice does not rest on this denial, but rather on the idea that nations ought to take responsibility for their own collective fate. This book may become the one against which cosmopolitans define their position, but it offers a great deal more than that; in particular a theory of global justice which gives nationhood a central place, and a nuanced and insightful analysis of the idea of responsibility.
Jonathan Seglow
(Royal Holloway, University of London)
Walter F. Murphy's book deals with the question of how to create and maintain a constitutional democracy rather than offering a new political order. It starts with the paradoxical imperative that ‘any political system sensitive to the needs of citizens and aware of the human propensity to sin has two objectives: to empower government and to limit government’ (p. 1). Murphy assumes that constitutional democracy as a hybrid political order, born out of the marriage of constitutionalist and democratic views, can best achieve these two objectives.
The book is divided into two main parts. Part I examines the establishment of a constitutional democracy in a fictional country emerging from a long period of dictatorship. After fierce debates among the members of the ‘caucus’ empowered to create the new constitutional order, constitutional democracy is selected as the best political model. The chapters in Part II take up the ways and methods of maintaining and consolidating the constitutional democracy in an embryonic regime. The constitutional maintenance aims to tackle certain problems that involve: (a) creating self and other-regarding citizens; (b) establishing a competent professional public service including military and security forces; (c) interpreting the constitution to settle disputes between citizens and public officials; and (d) amending the constitution to adapt the political order to new circumstances. The author concludes that no reasonable alternative is currently available to replace constitutional democracy, even though he does not completely rule out the possibility of creating a better political system in the future. Even representative democracy is rejected on the ground that ‘it would have to operate within a political culture that imposed the same kinds of normative restraints as do constitutionalism's institutional checks' (p. 529).
One may, however, find this argument insufficient and unconvincing for at least two reasons. First, it appears to ignore the role of factors other than political culture in choosing political systems. Second, it underestimates the impeding impact of constitutionalism's institutional checks such as judicial review on the development and consolidation of democratic political culture. Overall, Murphy's book not only significantly contributes to ongoing theoretical debates on the idea of creating a just political order, but also provides learned and usable political guidance to decision makers and constitutional engineers regarding the establishment, consolidation and maintenance of constitutional democracy. Thus it is required reading for those who are interested in both theoretical and political problems of constitutional democracy.
Zuhtu Arslan
(National Police Academy, Ankara)
Leo Strauss is a hot topic these days. Nearly every month a new book on him or his thought appears and the most publicised ones tend to be negative and full of insinuation rather than critical, either of his style, method or views. These two recent books represent friendly readings of his thought, one by a student and partisan of Strauss and another by a German scholar who is the editor of the authoritative German edition of Strauss' writings.
Pangle's book is composed of a brief introduction and four chapters. The first chapter deals with Strauss' take on relativism and the crisis of both modern liberalism and modern thought. Chapter 2 tackles Strauss' revival of classical political philosophy and its implications while chapter 3 addresses his treatment of modern thought. Finally, chapter 4 deals with Strauss' legacy in political science, especially with reference to the various directions of political science scholarship that students of Strauss or those influenced by him have taken. (Unfortunately, Pangle's partisanship does tend silently to exclude the achievements of those students of Strauss with whom he disagrees.)
For someone looking for a short introduction to Strauss and his thought, Pangle's little book is a good place to begin. The only caveat one would have is that his exposition is far from neutral. He not only represents a minority of Strauss' students, but his perspective is heavily informed by the opinions of a group tacitly led by the late Allen Bloom. Without getting into a complex tax-onomy of the various camps of Strauss' students and their differences, one should realise that Pangle's analysis, while the most even-handed treatment of him to date, still reflects the biases of one particular camp.
Turning to the book by Meier we encounter a work which is not quite intended as an introduction to Strauss. It is a collection of various essays that Meier has published previously in different places in German and English. Unlike most similar collections, however, this one holds together rather well. Furthermore, the addition of two of Strauss' unpublished lectures from the 1940s in the appendix —; important as documentation to support parts of his argument —; adds to the value of the book for those interested in Strauss' thought, who otherwise would not have access to such rare material.
The reason why this book may not provide the best entry into Strauss' thought is due to its narrow focus. The work deals with what is assumed to be the key focus of Strauss' concern, namely the theologico-political question. This problem can be summed up as either the choice between Jerusalem and Athens or, more baldly, the choice between the primacy of reason and the primacy of revelation. Meier focuses explicitly on this problem in Strauss' work because he wishes to make the case that it was not merely a question for the early Strauss of the 1930s, but one that framed his whole intellectual career. Meier's analysis is, thus, highly controversial among scholars interested in Strauss.
Meier's book is his third one to deal with this subject. Whereas his earlier books focused on Carl Schmitt and his intellectual relationship to Strauss, this one focuses exclusively on Strauss and the question of political theology in Strauss' works. A notable feature of Meier's approach to Strauss is his willingness to utilise Strauss' correspondence and unpublished material. Some may quibble with this but it is Meier's usage of the correspondence and unpublished writing that makes his work on Strauss so original and compelling.
Clifford Bates
(American Studies Center, Warsaw)
The term ‘political constructivism’ has been introduced by Rawls in his later work to describe an approach to political justifications that takes seriously the reasonable pluralism existing in contemporary democratic societies. Rawls' constructivism has been interpreted by critics and supporters alike as a retreat from the more ambitious project of delivering a universally justifiable theory of justice to providing a more contextualised and particularist form of political justification. Political liberalism has been seen as a limited method of justification applicable only to certain contexts and ‘preaching only to the already converted’ (i.e. democratic citizens).
In his book Peri Roberts takes up the challenging task of reclaiming political constructivism as a theory able to deliver a thin universalism about justice. Roberts pursues two aims: firstly, to develop an understanding of what constructivism in political theory is, and secondly, to develop his own account of political constructivism as a theory able to justify at least some universal principles of justice.
The first three chapters develop a general account of constructivism through the critical examination of two prominent constructivist positions, that of Rawls (chs 2 and 3) and O'Neill (ch. 4). Chapters 5 and 6 are devoted to Roberts' own account of political constructivism as a theory able to deliver at least some universal principles of political justice in the face of pluralism.
At the heart of Roberts' argument lies one crucial distinction: that between primary and secondary constructivism. The author claims that the constructivisms of both Rawls and O'Neill face difficulties due to a failure duly to observe the constraints implied by that distinction. There is, however, Roberts claims, a way of arguing for a primary constructivism that relies on very thin assumptions and can thus justify at least some universal principles of justice. Those principles can then be ‘filled in’ and fleshed out more fully by a plurality of secondary constructions which would rely on thicker and more contextualised assumptions. Roberts' argument for such a universally justifiable primary construction gives rise to a ‘principled pluralism’ —; a concept related to but distinct from the Rawlsian ‘reasonable pluralism’.
This book offers finely developed arguments and some very stimulating discussions of the work of Rawls and O'Neill, of the constructivist understanding of objectivity, etc. One would perhaps expect a more detailed discussion of primary and secondary constructions, but as the author admits, the aim of the book is only to flesh out the first stage of a more ambitious project (p. 141). The book will appeal to anyone interested in the debates between liberals and communitarians, and in issues of justification, identity, pluralism and multiculturalism.
Mihaela Georgieva
(University of Manchester)
Deliberative democracy, although not the only show in town, is the undoubted darling of democratic theory. Since the late 1980s —; a period John Dryzek associates with the ‘deliberative turn’ in democratic theory —; an impressive body of work has been generated on the subject. Despite this, however, a relative paucity of systematic empirical research on the nature and effects of democratic deliberation, on the locations within which deliberation is taking place and on the manner in which location impacts upon the quality and form of deliberation, has threatened to turn the deliberative camp into something of a refuge from reality. Thankfully, though, an increasing number of researchers are journeying to the coalface of deliberation-in-practice in an attempt to redress this imbalance, and this edited collection provides an excellent introduction to the type of work they are engaged in. Its contributors explore, variously, how and to what extent Americans talk about politics; the nature and potential of civic dialogue; the nature of deliberation in the UK, Swiss, German and US assemblies; the risk that deliberation operates so as to marginalise minority perspectives; the different forms of discourse which may be employed in deliberation; and the manner in which deliberation may rectify the limitations, identified by social choice theorists, of voting as a means of making collective decisions. The sheer diversity of research focus and methodology will ensure that this collection is of use to advanced postgraduates, academic researchers and practitioners alike. It should also appeal to researchers of both empirical and theoretical bent —; informing the former in questions of research design and providing the latter with the means to bolster their own normative stances (or otherwise, of course). Indeed, the icing on the cake is that some of the big hitters of deliberative theory are invited in the last sections of the book to wade through and comment upon the mine of empirical data served up in the main body. This allowance of a response from deliberative democracy's theoretical wing, and the manner in which this in turn facilitates a more general exploration of the interface of theoretical and empirical research, lends the book a balance and roundedness often lacking in edited collections. Fittingly, it gives it a deliberative quality.
Stewart Davidson
(Glasgow Caledonian University)
One usually does not think of Heidegger as a political thinker, but rather as a thinker whose main concern was about being, and the problem of historicity upon being. But Gregory Bruce Smith argues that it is exactly how Heidegger addresses the problem which makes his thought political, and that this political dimension of his thought has had a profound impact on the numerous political thinkers of the later twentieth century who either have followed the path Heidegger took or tried to rebel against it.
The book is composed of a preface, which asks the question ‘why Heidegger now?’, an introduction and conclusion and ten chapters that deal with the scope of Heidegger's thinking in relation to periods of his life, and which also cover a number of themes such as the end of philosophy and the essential historicity of thought, technology, art and post-metaphysical thinking. Smith does an excellent job with the narrative of Heidegger's impact on European philosophy and its political character. He does an equally good job of explaining some of the very difficult aspects of Heidegger's thought in a way that readers can readily grasp and understand. In all of this, Smith carefully proceeds from the historical record, showing how and under what circumstances the different stages of Heidegger's thought developed; nor does he whitewash some of the darker and more sinister aspects of his life and thought.
In chapter 10, Smith explores the different directions into which Heidegger's thought has been taken by other scholars who have been influenced by him. He sketches out the way in which the political and philosophical thought of Hannah Arendt, Jacques Derrida, Leo Strauss, Hans Georg Gademer, Herbert Marcuse and Richard Rorty has been impacted by Heidegger, as well as the way Heidegger has reshaped aspects of the political spectrum —; left, right and centre. In the conclusion, Smith tackles how one can get beyond Heidegger, and the consequences implied by his understanding of the nature of thought for the human condition. As the book's subtitle suggests, the ultimate impact of Heidegger and his thought is not only the paths that he took, but also the paths that are now opened because of what his thought has revealed. All in all, this book is a very welcome contribution to the discussion of the political character of Heidegger's thought.
Clifford Bates
(American Studies Center, Warsaw)
Among the recent wave of books addressing the tensions between multiculturalism and feminism, Sarah Song's Justice, Gender, and the Politics of Multiculturalism stands out in at least two respects. First, she attempts to demonstrate the compatibility of gender equality and the accommodation of cultural diversity by developing a constructivist account of culture, which is contrasted favourably with some of the rival views currently prominent in the multicultural literature. Thus, after a neat exposition of the ‘minorities within minorities’ problem, the bulk of the first half of the text is devoted to developing a ‘rights-respecting accomodationism’ approach to multiculturalism that dovetails neatly with Song's preferred account of the mechanisms of cultural construction, interaction, maintenance and change. As such, the book is likely to be relevant for scholars interested in the wider debates about the significance of culture and identity for political theory, as well as for those specifically interested in the relationship between feminism and multiculturalism.
Second, Song's account of the conditions under which egalitarian justice permits and requires special treatment for cultural minorities is worked out and illustrated with three sustained and detailed case studies. These take up most of the second half of the book and concern, respectively, the use of ‘cultural defences’ in criminal law, membership rules among the Santa Clara Pueblo and the evolution of debates about polygamy in the United States. Although the selection of cases may be frustrating for some readers outside North America, the analyses are constituently accessible, comprehensive, sophisticated and even-handed. Not only will they be of interest for scholars of law, politics and philosophy, but they could also be an excellent resource for advanced-level classroom discussion.
Consistent with the constructivist account of culture endorsed throughout, the most revealing parts of Song's case studies concern the complex and subtle ways in which majority and minority cultures can interact to undermine the interests of vulnerable group members. For example, ‘cultural defences’ in criminal law tend to be more successful where there is a ‘congruence’ between the patriarchal practices of a minority group and the norms of wider society. Likewise, reformist criticism of minority patriarchal practices (such as Mormon polygamy in nineteenth-century America) can obscure inequalities within majority culture, and fuel a dangerous sense of cultural superiority. Song's optimism about the capacity of intercultural democratic dialogue to foster an understanding of the ways in which interactions among majority and minority cultures sustain and support oppressive practices is not unwarranted, although the argument might have benefited from a clearer account of the deliberative preconditions necessary to resolve fairly gendered cultural conflicts.
Andrew Shorten
(University of Limerick)
A platform for exploring the relevance of Lacanian theory for politics, the Lacanian Left designates for Stavrakakis an emerging, heterogeneous field of approaches which, in drawing on Lacanian psychoanalysis, sheds new light on contemporary political issues. At the same time, the Lacanian Left paves the way for the radicalisation and reactivation of the democratic imaginary. Castoriadis, Laclau, Žižek and Badiou are the key figures whom Stavrakakis associates with the Lacanian Left. He argues that while they all engage —; to varying degrees —; with central Lacanian themes, they are caught in a dialectic of disavowal: disavowing either the negative, the alienation and lack constitutive of the human and social condition, or the positive, the dimension of affect and jouissance (enjoyment) which drives identification processes. Positive and negative, therefore, lack and jouissance, constitute the main Lacanian contribution to the analysis of politics.
To make this contribution more explicit, the second part of the book engages in an analysis of concrete political phenomena. From nationalism to European identity, consumerism and post-democratic trends, Stavrakakis argues that what is missing is a thorough examination of their affective dimension. Such an examination would enable us to explain what sticks and does not stick in politics, opening new paths for social change (pp. 164-5). An ‘enjoyable democratic ethics of the political’, an ethics which acknowledges negativity, yet ‘manages also to offer access to enjoyment’ (p. 269) could provide one such path, concludes Stavrakakis.
The Lacanian Left is a well-researched, thought-provoking book, which makes a refreshing contribution to contemporary discussions in political theory. Stavrakakis critically evaluates the work of the thinkers he associates with the Lacanian Left and he successfully convinces us that psychoanalysis could be of significant use to the study of politics. Although the book is not aimed at readers unfamiliar with psychoanalysis, it is accessible enough to enable such readers to follow its argument. Therein lies the greatest strength of the book, in the argument that while reflections on negativity, alienation and lack further our understanding of democratic politics, so do reflections of affect and jouissance. Its limitation is that while Stavrakakis explores an alternative approach to the study of politics, the reader does not get a clear sense of what the author's own conception of politics involves. This limitation aside, the book is a must read for all those engaged in critical reflection on democratic politics today.
Paulina Tambakaki
(University of Westminster)
Immanuel Kant's Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785) is easily one of the most profoundly influential works in the history of ethics. Broadly speaking, ‘Kantians’ clearly dominate contemporary work in ethics and moral philosophy today. Unsurprisingly, a vast literature has evolved defending (and arguing against) the many arguments found in Kant's Groundwork since its initial publication, and perhaps even more so now. The standard for work in this area is generally high and one might doubt the need for yet another book on the topic.
Yet this is a book on the topic like no other. Jens Timmermann adeptly takes the reader argument by argument through the entirety of Kant's Groundwork in an amazing display of clarity. First, Timmermann presents the background to Kant's Groundwork and the expectations we should have for its project. Secondly, he moves through it argument by argument, unpacking every move Kant offers us and then going beyond to help us make best sense of each and every step of Groundwork. Thirdly, Timmermann's commentary concludes with a multi-part appendix —; easily worth the price of the book alone —; which addresses several topics, such as certain puzzles concerning maxims, Kantian morality's pervasiveness, the corresponding project of Kant's following Metaphysics of Morals, and others. Together, these discussions shed light where there is often much darkness. Moreover, Timmermann's style is never dry and often interlaced with humour.
Timmermann's commentary is nothing short of magisterial. This is without a doubt the best book available on one of the most important books in the history of philosophy. I cannot recommend it more highly to anyone with an interest in ethics and moral philosophy.
Thom Brooks
(University of Newcastle)
Unelected bodies, parastatals, extra-governmental organisations, quasi-autonomous non-governmental organisations —; call them what you may —; are a ubiquitous feature of both developed and developing state systems. However, for much of the twentieth century the study of unelected bodies was dominated by an almost polemical anti-delegatory thrust. It is in this context that Vibert's The Rise of the Unelected contributes a refreshing and provocative rejoinder to much of the literature that has been published on delegation, autonomy and democracy in recent years. ‘The unexpected message of this book is that the rise of the unelected is not a danger to democracy. On the contrary, their rise has the potential to make democratic systems of government more robust’ (p. 2). For Vibert the danger posed to modern democracies by an increased use of unelected arm's-length bodies comes from failing to adapt systems of government to the empirical and theoretical realities of modern (delegated) governance. ‘In systems of government that fail to make good use of what the unelected do best and what only the elected can do, democratic governments will neither be able to solve contemporary problems effectively nor be able to articulate the voice of democracy’ (p. 2).
Vibert's analysis is unapologetically sweeping and confrontational and, like all important books, it raises as many questions as it answers. In a sense The Rise of the Unelected provides a proto-theory or glimpse of how a reformed delegated state sector might represent a tool of (rather than a threat to) democracy. This involves unelected bodies existing within an open and transparent governance framework in which they create an ‘informed citizenry’ through the collection, analysis and dissemination of information. Through this process not only are citizens better able to make their own decisions about critical life choices but they are also in a stronger position vis-à-vis elected politicians to assess specific political statements or explanations.
And yet as the Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development's (OECD) 2002 research report Distributed Public Governance concluded, it is in fostering clear and transparent governance frameworks for unelected bodies that previous reform attempts in a range of countries have been unsuccessful. Unelected bodies are useful tools of governance and were always intended to exist within an administrative and democratic hinterland —; ‘government by moonlight’ as Harden, Lewis and Birkenshaw labelled them in 1990 —; and yet The Rise of the Unelected provides little sense of either the politics of delegation in terms of the inbuilt barriers to reform which have thwarted previous reform efforts, or the complex interplay of variables that may facilitate a critical juncture leading to far-reaching reforms and the creation of a clear fourth branch of the separation of powers.
However, the contribution of Vibert's analysis lies in its attempts to deconstruct the concept of legitimacy into its component parts and by so doing shift the focus of analysis from a fixation with elections as the only legitimate source of decision-making capacity. This line of reasoning opens up a much broader intellectual terrain which illuminates the relationship between unelected bodies and a range of issues including public apathy and disenchantment with politics, questions regarding the limits and residual core of the state and the nature of resource dependencies within increasingly multi-levelled governance systems. At the broadest level, however, the significance of The Rise of the Unelected lies in its willingness to challenge the mainstream view regarding delegation and democracy. Vibert is correct to conclude that ‘When unelected bodies strip away official secrecy, or provide more trustworthy information or guidance untarnished by spin, democracy is the gainer not the loser’ (p. 166), but history suggests that realising the democratic potential of unelected bodies is likely to be difficult to achieve.
Matthew Flinders
(University of Sheffield)
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Footnotes
1
MacIntyre, A. (1989) Whose Justice, Which Rationality? Notre Dame University Press.
2
Bhaskar, R. (1998) The Possibility of Naturalism, third edition, Routledge.