Abstract
Diana Coole sets herself three main tasks with this book: to demonstrate that Maurice Merleau-Ponty's evolving philosophy always had political concerns at its heart; to show how his later work contained continuities with his earlier output and also prefigured the (less convincing) post-structuralist literature; and to argue that his later ontology gives us a new way of understanding politics.
In meeting these challenges Coole is supremely adept, especially when discussing Merleau-Ponty's later ontology. Unlike most notions of intersubjectivity, which view it in terms of ideas in and of themselves (and thus abstracted from human social practice), Merleau-Ponty views the intersubjective as the intercorporeal or the inter-world. This enables him to overcome the mind/body dualism that bedevils much political philosophy and theory, because he highlights the ‘political significance of the flesh’ (p. 2). Moreover, this theory of thick intersubjectivity is able to accommodate notions of agency because ‘generative agentic capacities are now attributed to the flesh itself’ (p. 249), which leaves open the possibility for the emergence of ‘more or less coherent forms or singularities’ (p. 249) such as inspirational leaders, political parties and other collective agencies.
Coole relates Merleau-Ponty's work to other phenomenologists – such as Heidegger, Husserl and Sartre – plus structuralism, Marxism, Machiavelli, Weber and the post-structuralist literature that flowered after his death in 1961. Moreover, she also discusses how his evolving philosophy was inextricably linked to his political concerns, such as developments in the Soviet Union and the spread of capitalist democracy across the world. While always aware of his limitations, Coole makes a strong case for Merleau-Ponty's continued relevance, not least because of the prevalence of anti-humanist discourse in recent decades. Indeed, she shows how Merleau-Ponty's later work, which was (through the shift from the subjective to the inter-world) to some extent imbued with anti-humanism, provides us with the basis for a renewed humanism and – consequently – a more progressive, transformative politics.
Without doubt this is a highly impressive book. It is written with clarity and is full of (often counter-intuitive) arguments which force one to reflect deeply. Nevertheless, through choosing not to discuss more applied and/or empirical issues, Coole sells herself short. As a result, readers unfamiliar with her 2005 article in the British Journal of Political Science on the Hutton Report and her exemplary 2007 piece in The British Journal of Politics & International Relations on visceral and stylistic aspects of embodiment may wonder whether this is yet another attempt to connect theory and practice in an overly abstract manner. However, this should not dissuade them from reading this timely and ground-breaking book.
Ian Bruff
(Edge Hill University)
The aims of New Waves in Political Philosophy are simple and they are threefold. First, assemble a select group of emerging political philosophers, divergent both in their interests and methodological predilections. Second, compile a volume of their essays on topics perennial, topics passé and topics pertinent. And third, break new ground while doing so. What emerges is a volume of eleven essays which make for sophisticated, if challenging, reading.
Using its own demarcations as a guide, the book's themes can be roughly divided into three categories: perennial, passé and pertinent topics. In the first category sit essays on liberty (Lena Halldenius), loyalty (Simon Keller), reflexive democracy (Kevin Olson) and democratic legitimacy (Fabienne Peter). What unites these ‘perennial’ topics is perhaps less than what divides them. Despite this, their emphases on agency, mutuality and heterogeneous understandings of these issues stand out as unifiers.
The second category includes essays on political judgement (Lawrence Hamilton), ideology (Rahel Jaeggi) and freedom (Ajume H. Wingo). What is most apparent in these contributions, crudely summarised, is the relationship between fact (human needs, political institutions, ideological practices and free acts) and value (good political institutions and judgements, ideal ideologies and aesthetics).
Lastly, essays on feminist subjectivity (Amy Allen), the precariat, or the condition of being precariously employed (Mika LaVaque-Manty), social suffering (Emmanuel Renault) and multiculturalism (Sarah Song) categorise those ‘topics more recently put on the agenda'. Being topical these are broadly, though not necessarily or exclusively, the most patently practical of the eleven essays. Indeed, what inspires these contributions is their dedication towards the everyday, the social and the specifics of reality.
Taken together, this selection of essays provides an in-depth glimpse at some of the key issues within political philosophy today. That said, no work of this scale or ambition is ever accomplished without compromise and New Waves in Political Philosophy is no exception. By offering eleven distinct and distinctly different essays of the highest quality, it inevitably resigns itself to doing two things. The first is to demand of its readers a high level of competency, being a book that assumes a depth of knowledge not typically possessed by the non-specialist. Consequently, the book's appeal may be limited to philosophers or political philosophers, even though the topics broached are no respecters of these limits. The second concession is the book's failure adequately to justify how the eleven distinct and distinctly different essays were selected and why they fit together. This oversight leaves the book feeling disjointed and devoid of a clear overlying theme; a cacophony of voices and views evocative both of Western liberal democracy and the commentaries provided on it within this volume. But none of this, it stands reiterating, does anything to detract from the quality and poignancy embodied in these essays.
Mark Chou
(University of Queensland, Australia)
In keeping with the contemporary nature of the pluralising of human society, this book rightly positions itself around an extensive inquiry into the history of pluralist discourse. Introducing the topic, Rainer Eisfeld situates pluralism as a ‘group and participatory theory – a theory of individual participation by social association in the political process’ and underlines the need to treat pluralism as both a descriptive and prescriptive notion. He narrows the focus down to (a) providing a broad base of societal participation in public policy making and (b) reducing disparity in the social distribution of political resources.
Developing the discussion in chapter 1, Theodore J. Lowi focuses on the dangers of working with unidimensional concepts without ‘unpacking’ and contextualising them. Taking a hypertextual approach, he sets the concept of pluralism in a matrix of logically consistent relationships with other concepts and identifies four types of pluralism: feudal; market-driven; party-driven; and corporate. While Lowi's logical relation matrix is pertinent, it fails to capture the complex reality of Third World pluralism.
In chapter 2 Eisfeld focuses on the evolution of ‘empirical and normative research programmes’ and points out that radical pluralism found its advocates in the ‘economic democracy’ of Laski and ‘functional representation’ of Cole. Liberal or interest group pluralism became more of a norm during the Cold War era when plural groups bargained for power through their leaders in the political marketplace. Dahl and Lindblom tried to reinterpret liberal pluralism by marrying it with participation. Liberal pluralism then came to grapple with European corporate pluralism and a resurrection of cultural pluralism worldwide. The history of pluralism, argues Eisfeld, continues to develop as it engages with new ethnic-cultural formations, exclusion and globalisation.
In the next chapter Eisenberg focuses on the inconsequential growth of pluralism literature for political science theory because of its methodological bias. Pluralism moves away from reality by seeing individuals as rationally choosing group membership, or groups as instruments for advancing the aggregate of individual interests. In today's multicultural society, most social groups are identity-based rather than interest-based, which means that most social groups are misfits in the plural schema.
Philip Cerny, in the last chapter, tries to juxtapose the pluralist debate with discourses of multiculturalism, state fragmentation, transnationalism and globalisation, and posits that the challenges thrown up by these are in fact opportunities for pluralisation to reshape global politics. Cerny sees pluralism as a coalition-building process which can thrive only if there exists a ‘pluralism generating and pluralism reinforcing playing field’ (p. 88). Globalisation leads to a proliferation of identity, interest and cause groups, group leaders and institutional apparatuses for shrinking the state–policy space. The pluralisation of society depends on the degree of flexibility and democratisation of these local–global groups.
With its disciplinary tilt towards political pluralism this book will prove useful for students and academics. The chapters all draw extensively from different sources to establish pluralism as a distinct democratic paradigm, although the language used by some authors seems a little more conjectural than necessary.
Chittarnjan Das Adhikary
(Banaras Hindu University, Varanasi, India)
Jon Elster's work on reason and rationality has been ground-breaking for over two decades. This short book, a transcript of his inaugural lecture to the Collège de France on 1 June 2006 translated by Steven Rendall, presents a succinct introduction to the main themes of his work during that time, notably the potential conflict between objective reason and private rationality (as witnessed in the ‘paradox of voting’), the extent to which far-sighted egoism is capable of mimicking the behaviour of impartial virtues (in order to win the approval of others or for reasons of self-esteem) and the limits and failures of rationality (e.g. in cases of indeterminacy or lack of information, at which point to seek answers from reason is to exhibit the vice of ‘hyperrationality’ that blights much of Western society). To someone familiar with Elster's work, these issues – and even some of his examples and illustrations – will be familiar, although this neat summary weaves different threads of his work together into a coherent whole with considerable skill.
The text itself is short – just 68 pages of this pocketsized book – but covers a lot of ground with, for the most part, remarkable lucidity. In the process, Elster is able to dispel numerous common confusions, for instance insisting that rational preference maximisation should not be identified with or mistaken for self-interested egoism (p. 61). Sadly, much of the presentation is probably too compressed for this book to serve as an introduction for the complete novice to the study of human rationality, with certain ideas, such as Bernard Williams’ distinction between internal and external reasons, introduced more or less in passing. Consequently, the book is unlikely to find service as an undergraduate text. Nonetheless, for those with some grounding in the study of human behaviour, Elster does a remarkable job of bringing together seemingly disparate concerns, ranging from claims about reasons and motivation in moral philosophy to the rational choice paradigm of political science and economics. Anyone interested in any of these fields, and particularly those who wish to explore the potential relevance of work in other related disciplines, should know of Elster's work. While many will no doubt wish to explore further, and turn to Elster's earlier books such as Ulysses and the Sirens and Solomonic Judgements, this essay (as it effectively is) provides a concise overview of his dominant concerns and a useful introduction to his thought.
Ben Saunders
(University of Oxford)
This book by Alison Kadlec is a welcome addition to the scholarship on American philosopher John Dewey and pragmatism. Given the increasing amount of research on these subjects, the reader may ask: What novel contribution does Kadlec make to the extant body of literature? This is a fair question, and one that this reviewer thinks the author clearly answers.
Kadlec seeks to recover and resurrect ‘Dewey's democratic vision', which is a ‘pragmatic vision of participatory democracy’ (p. 2). Such a ‘recovery’ is needed because Dewey's participatory vision ‘remained in eclipse for nearly three decades', aside from a brief resurgence in the 1960s and 1970s (p. 3).
Chapter 1 revisits Dewey's critique of classical epistemology, highlighting differences between it and Dewey's critical pragmatism. Chapter 2 addresses Dewey's conception of ‘critical', as used in critical pragmatism, although this chapter seems somewhat unnecessary. Chapters 3 and 4 constitute the heart of Kadlec's book, and are well done. The emphasis is on Dewey's political work: the relationship between education and democracy, and his famous debate with Walter Lippmann regarding the possibility of a ‘democratic public'. Kadlec's discussion of The Public and Its Problems and Liberalism and Social Action are quite good. Chapter 5 affirms the potential of Dewey's democratic thought for citizens and theorists interested in deliberative democracy.
All worthwhile books – and Dewey's Critical Pragmatism is a worthwhile book – inject themselves into a pre-existing body of literature and contribute something novel. In this case, Kadlec is working within the field of democratic theory and so this book will be of interest to scholars debating the merits of deliberative democracy. Specifically, Kadlec argues: ‘It is my basic contention that Dewey firmly establishes a framework for rethinking deliberative democracy that is self-consciously purged of dogmatic foundationalism while still oriented by the critical reflection that is necessary for the realization of democratic ends’ (p. 5). Thus, the novel contribution that Kadlec makes is a demonstration that deliberative democrats need not be concerned about charges of ‘philosophical foundationalism’ – of assuming the existence of universal truths about democracy – because the pragmatic approach of deliberative democracy rests not on assumed truths about democracy, but rather on a self-critical, self-correcting and self-justifying bundle of discursive practices. Towards this end, Kadlec makes a persuasive case.
Jeffrey D. Hilmer
(University of British Columbia, Vancouver)
Despite extensive and growing research into the function of democracy, the origins of democratic rule remain ambiguous. To Andreas Kalyvas, these origins can be found in an idea of ‘extraordinary politics', the moment of revolutionary chaos before constitutional, ‘normal’ politics kicks in. In that ‘extraordinary’ space, constitutions are written, systems are created and the people assert their sovereignty in a direct and forceful manner. Only afterwards, in the sphere of ‘normal’ politics, does democracy settle into direct and indirect representation based on actors and interests.
The study of extraordinary politics is not new, and has become more common in recent years. Kalyvas himself draws on the work of such scholars as Bruce Ackerman and Andrew Arato. Kalyvas’ task in this book is to investigate how democratic legitimacy is created, through the thought of Max Weber, Carl Schmitt and Hannah Arendt. In addition, Kalyvas shows how certain ambiguities in the interpretation of these theorists can be clarified when seen through the lens of extraordinary politics. In this view, Weber's concept of charisma, Schmitt's musings on constituent power and Arendt's work on new beginnings are easily explicable when related to the founding of constitutional democracies. In order to achieve his aim, however, Kalyvas takes each theorist out of their original context and reads extraordinary politics into, rather than out of, their respective oeuvres.
The one problem with this book is its awkward expression. Kalyvas introduces his key concepts in an all-too-short introduction. His framework of ‘three levels of democratic politics’ (p. 12) – an extraordinary, a ‘normal’ and a kind of post-normal level of spontaneous mobilisation – is hinted at just once at the beginning and is once to be read into Schmitt (p. 85), before finally it becomes the focus of his work on Arendt. A whole chapter dedicated to these terms would have provided a stronger framework through which the reader could be guided. Although Kalyvas excels in his depth and insight into the work of the three scholars he has studied, occasionally a less informed reader can get lost in Kalyvas’ words, and his most perceptive points are often underemphasised, hidden throughout the text. His deliberately ‘selective and reconstructive’ (p. 11) approach means this book offers little for purists, but as a step toward advancing a coherent theory of extraordinary politics it is an important, fascinating and highly illustrative read.
Ben Revi
(University of Adelaide)
With the exceptions of Debra Candreva and Paul Franco, few scholars have examined the influence of Plato on Michael Oakeshott's thought. Eric Kos’ book is thus a welcome contribution to Oakeshott scholarship, offering readers a detailed and often fascinating study of Oakeshott's notebooks on the ancient Greeks. While Kos discusses Oakeshott's treatment of pre-Socratics briefly, the bulk of his book is concerned with Oakeshott's ambivalent reading of Plato. Kos argues that if Oakeshott was attracted by Plato the philosopher, he was repelled by Plato the zealous political reformer (p. 13, p. 108). If Oakeshott preferred Socrates to Plato, it is because he saw in the former a healthy and necessary separation between theory and practice.
Kos’ hope is that a study of these notebooks can say something about Oakeshott's understanding of the relationship between theory and practice (the book could, in fact, be summarised as an apology for a distinction between the two). But Kos also wants to shed light on the question of continuity in Oakeshott's thought, as well as that of the nature of his idealism and conservatism (the former is described as ‘eccentric’ [p. 5], the latter as ‘sceptical’ [p. 11]). Finally, Kos believes that studying Oakeshott's notebooks may be instructive for scholars concerned with the battle between Cambridge and Chicago (i.e. between Skinnerians and Straussians). For Kos, Oakeshott's work offers a ‘third approach’ (p. 4): an approach to political philosophy that has one foot in history and one foot in eternity (p. 15, p. 132). This argument about Oakeshott's ‘third way’ is the aspect of Kos’ book that is most relevant to political theorists today; unfortunately, the claim is insufficiently developed. While Kos devotes several pages to Oakeshott and Skinner, for instance, he gives Strauss but a footnote.
This book ought to be read by Oakeshott specialists, but students of Plato may abstain. Regrettably, Kos does not analyse critically what Oakeshott affirms about Plato (beyond the point of discussing what all this tells us about Oakeshott, that is). Much could have been made, for example, of the odd characterisation of Socrates as more philosophical and conservative than his more practical student Plato – indeed, current scholarship most typically gives the opposite portrait.
Kos effectively shows the degree to which Oakeshott's lectures and notebooks on Plato rely heavily on the work of others – particularly Nettleship and Bosanquet. But by insisting so eagerly on Oakeshott's heavy debts, the author may unwittingly raise questions in his readers’ minds about the value of studying these notebooks.
Sophie Bourgault
(University of Ottawa)
Rethinking Democracy principally focuses on the inevitability of democracy despite several philosophical/conceptual challenges to it. The book has a strong theoretical argument, seeking the conditions of adaptability in civil and political spheres to changing situations and presenting the reasons for strengthening democracy for a fairer society. The book also critically pins down the failures of democracy.
Rajni Kothari rightly argues that democracy can be strengthened only when it is guarded against various tumultuous situations, and he makes his argument more pertinent by bringing both Western and Indian perspectives into focus. There is a greater need for democracy, he opines, in the post-colonial societies amid the strong influences of the free market and globalisation, and an equally strong need for egalitarianism. A positive role of the state is perceived to be necessary to achieve the egalitarian goals of democracy. For Kothari, such a new impetus becomes the harbinger of revolutionary change and could possibly play an emancipatory role in realising the goals of freedom, equality, justice and self-determination while we are surrounded by the aggressive logics of capitalism.
Rethinking Democracy has to a large extent succeeded in making a case for directing democracy towards its proposed goals. It provides both a strong theoretical statement and also several empirical reference points throughout. The need constantly to mould according to contingent conditions yet also retain the conceptual/philosophical foundations of democracy is central to this book. The author conjures the nature of democracy in our time very well.
However, there are other issues that could have been the focus for understanding contemporary democracy. First, conceptualising democracy ought to be freed from unrealistic idealisations. Second, we also have to note that aspects of democracy coexist alongside certain assumed non-democratic factors, and take care of both traditional forces and progressive democracy, especially in post-colonial societies. Third, relinquishing unrealistic assumptions would make clear the difference between the promise of democracy and its practice. Fourth, the author could have taken a more critical view of the Indian framework, leaving all biases behind. Finally, and despite our belief in democracy, we have to state honestly that it is not as emancipatory as we imagine it to be, although it is certainly preferred over other socio-political forms. Nevertheless, the author's treatment of democracy makes it an ethical question and he provides sufficient ethical arguments toward a workable democracy.
Chidella Upendra
(Centre for Contemporary Theory and General Semantics, Gujarat, India)
Terry Macdonald's book is an impressive achievement which lifts the debate on global democracy to a new level. She argues that not only states but also a range of non-state agents in global politics have an impact on the autonomy of populations and therefore should be subject to democratic control. Against the view that legitimate social choice in global politics can be achieved only through nation states, Macdonald develops a theory of democratic representation that is based on deliberation among representatives of multiple and overlapping stakeholder constituencies. She then discusses mechanisms of authority and accountability that could ensure legitimate democratic representation at the global level without holding elections. Her argument is mostly theoretical, but its implications are fruitfully illustrated with reference to how NGOs exercise ‘public’ power in global politics and what kind of institutional mechanisms could ensure that they democratically represent stakeholder groups.
The book is a veritable treasure box full of original insights, sharp and sophisticated arguments and sometimes unexpected but always relevant connections between different literatures in political science and political philosophy. To be sure, the book is not without weaknesses. For instance, Macdonald criticises conventional liberal democratic theory for neglecting non-state actors as actors that can problematically affect individual autonomy and that therefore need to be subject to democratic control. Such criticism may apply to some liberal approaches, but not to most democratic theorists and activists, who are unlikely to deny that non-state power is a problem, but nonetheless maintain that the best solution generally consists of indirect control exercised through the democratic state, as opposed to direct control through non-state mechanisms. Social democrats, for instance, never ignored the power exercised by capitalists over workers, but aimed at limiting it by gaining control of state power and legislating on trade union rights, employment relations, health and safety, taxation, etc. (even though this priority did not rule out direct democratising strategies such as Mitbestimmung in Germany). Also, Macdonald's theoretical critiques of nation-state models of global representation are problematic, since a defence of the nationalist model does not necessarily depend on the ‘Burkean’ view that representatives can ignore the ‘subjective’ preferences of the represented, and a defence of the statist model of global representation does not necessarily depend on the denial of a role for deliberation within decision-making institutions. But even when she fails to persuade, Macdonald's arguments are always instructive and stimulating. This excellent book should be studied by anyone interested in the democratisation of global governance and indeed in the future of democracy.
Mathias Koenig-Archibugi
(London School of Economics and Political Science)
Do not be misled by the title of this book. Raffaele Marchetti is all ‘for’ global democracy and not even a little bit ‘against’ it. That said, his partisan case in favour of radical reform of international institutions towards ‘cosmo-federalism’ is a compelling one, as is his critique of the exclusionary practices that underpin the current administration of world affairs.
Three aspects of this book make it a distinctive contribution to an increasingly popular literature on global justice. Firstly, there is its interdisciplinary approach, which combines the stringency of normative argument with great attention to empirical detail. Thus while presenting an original normative argument in favour of global democracy, Marchetti also provides the general reader with an elegant introduction to several issues ranging from philosophical discussions on well-being, social choice and individual agency, to institutional critiques of state-based models of participation in the international order, as well as sociological analyses of democratisation from below.
The second important aspect is the distinctive normative approach that the author has chosen to make his case against transnational exclusion and in favour of a federalist model of cosmopolitan democracy. Current normative approaches to international relations are heavily dominated by either a contractarian or a rights-based agenda influenced by Rawls’ late work, and arguments focusing on individual capacity for choice from a global consequentialist point of view make only a limited appearance. Marchetti's book develops consequentialist approaches not just by proposing distinctive solutions to long-standing controversies such as the problem of comparing interpersonal utility and its further application on the global scale, but also by focusing on the institutional arrangements that reflect moral consequentialist goals from a political perspective.
After reviewing various state-mediated or culture-based responses to the issue of global participation (e.g. realism, nationalism, democratic internationalism and cosmopolitan governance) Marchetti defends his own cosmopolitan federalist model, according to which every person is democratically represented in a global assembly where decisions are taken on the basis of ‘one head, one vote’ (p. 154). Here all major social institutions (from courts of justice to the police, from the legislative to the executive) are accountable to every citizen of the world. One might easily criticise this proposal for being politically unfeasible or technically ill-conceived, and the author, to his credit, acknowledges the legitimacy of these reservations (pp. 155ff.). But this would be a cheap critique and in any case (here is the third important aspect) the strength of Marchetti's response lies not so much in the success of his counter-arguments as in the effort to link the desirability of global political institutions to the demands of real existing social movements.
Of course, one might also object to the latter argument by insisting that few members of the global networks mentioned actually make cosmo-federalism part of their political agenda. However, one could hardly fail to appreciate that Marchetti's contribution represents one of the few intellectual attempts to combine an ambitious normative account of global justice with a sober reflection on the achievements of democratic social movements. Even though entrenched globalisation sceptics will ultimately fail to be persuaded by the core proposal of this book, in particular the federalist recipe prescribed in its disappointingly short final part, they will certainly hesitate before reproaching Marchetti for having offered yet another cosmopolitan utopia with little care for how the ‘real world’ works.
Lea Ypi
(University of Oxford)
Frederick Neuhouser's book Rousseau's Theodicy of Self-Love claims to be ‘the first comprehensive study’ of amour propre. Given the extensive Rousseau scholarship, this is a bold claim – and one on which Neuhouser ultimately makes good. His true achievement is in the clarity, breadth and depth of the book. He carefully navigates Rousseau's primary three works – the Second Discourse, The Social Contract and Emile – and defines amour propre, identifies its dangers, details Rousseau's remedies and explains its significant role in creating rational and moral beings. Neuhouser is a philosopher, and so not surprisingly provides an analytical, rather than historical, account of amour propre. The discussion of talent, while not problem free, is particularly effective, as is the treatment of the positive aspects of amour propre and its role in creating rational and moral agents. Neuhouser smartly moderates his claim for the role of amour propre, and doubts whether Rousseau himself believes humans will ever rise above their current condition. Interestingly, Adam Smith (and to a lesser extent Freud), rather than Hegel, is the hero of this section of the book. Finally, it is worth noting that the book is eminently readable and should appeal to specialists and non-specialists alike. Assistant professors cobbling together their first lectures on Rousseau would be wise to consult this book.
To be sure, Neuhouser's fundamental theses are familiar. The first, that amour propre is a neutral emotion that can be either positive or negative, is well worn among specialists and finds ample expression in the literature. The second claim, which argues that Rousseau's treatment of amour propre is best understood as a secular theodicy, is likewise somewhat derivative. Neuhouser cites Kant, Cassirer and Starobinksi as predecessors in forwarding this contention. Despite this impressive pedigree of philosophical support, however, Neuhouser's claim is still debatable. It remains unclear whether or not Rousseau consistently holds amour propre to be a cause or an effect of evil; that is, is inequality, or at least certain forms of it, the source of evil and amour propre only a psychological consequence? Furthermore, Neuhouser's philosophical approach neglects the political elements of Rousseau's writings. Part of his solution to the problem of talent, for example, is ideological – he wants to puncture the philosophes’ claims that social status ought to be determined by ability. Nevertheless, this is an excellent book that is highly original in its execution and should become the standard text on amour propre for years to come.
Michael Locke McLendon
(California State University)
In Democracy and Knowledge Josiah Ober applies contemporary ideas from the social sciences in order to explain how its democratic procedures enabled Athens to become the most influential and prosperous ancient Greek city state. Even in moderately large communities, aggregating dispersed knowledge in order to make good collective decisions can be problematic. The premise of this book is that ancient Athenian democratic processes were designed in order to facilitate innovation (through aggregating dispersed knowledge), alignment to common goals (through common knowledge and commitment mechanisms) and learning (through easily available codified laws). Each of these aspects of the decision-making process is superbly illustrated with the help of a historical example. The author also shows how changes in institutional design led to changes in the fortunes of Athens. Throughout the book, Ober innovatively combines findings from history, archaeology, political science and organisational theory. He argues that the problems faced by ancient city states were similar to those faced by contemporary medium-sized firms and that our knowledge of how such firms are able to overcome coordination problems and successfully innovate can help us to understand Athenian democracy better. At the same time, the problems faced by the Athenian state are framed in the terms of contemporary political science.
However, despite the fact that a strong link is drawn throughout the book to contemporary theories of politics and democracy, it is not immediately obvious how these findings are applicable beyond the bounds of relatively small polities. Contemporary democracies are not only vastly larger in terms of territory and population size, but are also inextricably and increasingly interlinked with each other through processes of globalisation. Thus the problems faced in aggregating dispersed knowledge, introducing institutional innovation and making sure that there is widespread knowledge of key institutional features are very different from the ones faced by the ancient Athenians. Nor is it clear how these findings could be applied to ideas in contemporary democratic theory, such as the theory of deliberative democracy. Yet even if the book tells us relatively little about contemporary application, the innovative way in which Ober ties the success of ancient Athens to knowledge-producing processes and explains the success of these processes is a significant achievement. The book is written in a very accessible style and it should be of interest to a wide range of scholars working in the area of ancient history, political science and democratic theory.
Zsuzsanna Chappell
(London School of Economics and Political Science)
The focus of the book is on Franklin's political writings and his thoughts on citizenship, federalism, constitutional government, the role of civil associations, and religious freedom. In this book the author first provides an excellent introduction to Franklin's philosophy which seems to gather together the best information anyone needs to know. As Lorraine Pangle states in the opening sentence, ‘Benjamin Franklin is and has always been the most American of Americans'.
The book comprises five chapters, each of which explores significant issues. The first chapter is concerned with the ‘Economic Basis of Liberty'. The next chapter considers ‘The Virtuous Citizen’ and relates that Franklin thought long and hard about the virtues needed for self-government and for private happiness. The third chapter is on ‘Philanthropy and Civil Associations’ and the fourth chapter comprises ‘Thoughts on Government'. The title of the final chapter is ‘The Ultimate Questions', and in this chapter Pangle examines the basis for Franklin's rationalist claims and his views on civil religion. She also explores Franklin's thoughts on human mortality and the yearning for eternity.
In my opinion Pangle has produced an extraordinary and exceptional piece of work. She presents innovative and novel insights into Franklin's thought, and her comparison of Franklin with Socrates and with the high tradition of political philosophy is among the other outstanding features of this book. Pangle also digs deep into Franklin's writings and the history of his doings.
This is an innovative and rigorous piece of writing and its well-written format will encourage the reader to devour it from cover to cover. It will be of use to all those who wish to learn about Franklin's thought and to students of politics and related subjects.
Iman Tohidian
(University of Kashan, I. R. Iran)
In The Origins of Totalitarianism, Hannah Arendt describes the paradox of human rights: those human rights that we are supposed to possess independently of our membership in political community turn out to be worthless precisely when individuals are deprived of their citizenship and so have nothing but the fact of their humanity to appeal to. Serena Parekh reads Arendt's subsequent work as an effort to overcome this paradox by rehabilitating the ‘ontological significance of the common world’ as the ground for human rights. On this account, the ‘rise of the social’ explains why it becomes necessary to assert human rights against the threat to human dignity that modernity poses and how the modern ethos prevents human rights from being fully realised; the activities of promise making, opinion formation and judgement are shown to be fundamental for establishing a culture of human rights as part and parcel of a sensus communis; the interdependence of the private and public realms can be seen to underpin the fundamental relation between social and economic rights (that protect the conditions which relate to the life process) and those civil and political rights (that sustain the space for freedom); and the situation of conscience within the experience of thinking provides a subjective foundation for human rights.
The book makes a valuable contribution by locating Arendt's work in relation to normative debates about human rights. In doing so, however, it flattens out some of the difficulties of Arendt's thought. For instance, Parekh distinguishes Arendt's position both from ‘essentialists’ who ground human rights in an essential aspect of the human being (since she disavows the notion of human nature) and from pragmatists who eschew metaphysical questions (since she gives a good reason for believing human rights are necessary conditions for both biological life and the good life of public action). Yet surely Arendt is an essentialist in holding that ‘full human existence is dependent upon instituting human rights’ because they guarantee the conditions necessary for self-disclosure (p. 147). Indeed, this ontological essentialism is what makes Arendt's analysis of human rights both so rich and so problematic. I would have welcomed a more critical probing of the constitutive opposition between necessity and freedom, which gives rise to the opposing figures of the world-poor refugee and the world-forming citizen in Arendt's thought.
Andrew Schaap
(University of Exeter)
Christian Rostboll argues that his book has something novel to contribute to the literature on deliberative democracy, namely the concept of ‘deliberative freedom'. Deliberative freedom is a theory of freedom specific to deliberative democracy and it integrates several ‘dimensions of freedom', including popular sovereignty, negative freedom, personal autonomy and freedom as praxis. The author argues that the connection between democracy and freedom is evident in Western political thought from Aristotle to Habermas. Yet questions such as ‘what exactly is it about democracy that makes citizens free? Which conception of freedom does democracy promote? And which model of democracy makes citizens most free?’ (p. 1) have not been addressed. These are the questions Rostboll endeavours to answer by developing his theory of deliberative freedom. His method is a close textual analysis of the theoretical work on deliberative democracy and related literature.
In his attempt to illuminate deliberative freedom Rostboll takes the reader on a selective tour of contemporary democratic theory, highlighting the theory of freedom associated with major theories. Chapter 1 illuminates the theory of negative freedom and personal autonomy characteristic of liberal democracy. Chapter 2 emphasises the theory of popular sovereignty and freedom of praxis associated with republican theory. Chapter 3 evaluates liberal and republican theories and argues that while the liberal and republican models focus on freedom of action, deliberative democracy is more expansive. Chapters 4 and 5 concentrate on Rawlsian and Habermasian models of deliberative democracy, arguing that each helps to highlight the theory of deliberative freedom. While Rostboll does make a strong case, it may be that in his attempt to develop his theory of deliberative freedom he sidesteps some of the problematic and overt disparities in Rawls’ and Habermas’ theories of deliberative democracy. Chapter 7 focuses on the connection between freedom, reason and political participation and argues that deliberative democracy is not elitist, but rather incorporates various theories of freedom. Chapter 8 summarises the book and is followed by an up-to-date bibliography.
Scholars of deliberative democracy will benefit from reading Deliberative Freedom, but given the massive literature on deliberative democracy and the relatively minor, if worthwhile, contribution of Rostboll, the reader's time may be better spent reading books that propose alternatives to deliberative democracy, such as Chantal Mouffe's On the Political (Verso, 2005) and Aletta J. Norval's Aversive Democracy (Cambridge, 2007). Books like these prod democratic theory forward in ways that a book on an already hegemonic theory cannot.
Jeffrey D. Hilmer
(University of British Columbia, Vancouver)
In The Politics of Truth, John Summers brings together a collection of C. Wright Mills’ essays, reviews and public lectures from ‘The Powerless People’ (1944) to ‘Letter to the New Left’ (1960). He traces the development of Mills’ thought through his response to the major political, economic and military issues of the early Cold War years. Mills’ work addressed a wide range of topics including power, responsibility, moral sensibility, freedom, security, communication, liberty and change. The central concern in this collection is the declining space for reason and freedom, ideas and intellectuals in an overdeveloped society dominated by conditions of insecurity due to the threat of thermonuclear warfare, and uncertainty due to the collapse of liberalism and socialism ‘as adequate explanations of the world and ourselves’ (p. 194).
A dominant theme throughout this collection is the interconnection of morality and politics. Mills is concerned with the correlation between heightened levels of communication, knowledge and awareness, and an increase in apathy, passivity and sense of powerlessness. He develops a radical critique of the ‘moral insensibility’ and ‘organized irresponsibility’ he sees as dominant in American culture. This collection traces the development of his thought from despair to radical proposals for action. The ‘sense of tragedy’ for the intellectual in the first essay, where knowledge leads to a greater understanding of our powerlessness, is replaced with a sense of empowerment as intellectuals are identified as ‘a possible, immediate, radical agency of change’ (p. 263) in the final essay.
Mills’ concern for intellect and ideas is central to his critique of the ‘fetish’ of ‘theory’ and ‘method’ (p. 67) that dominates contemporary social science, to the detriment of the ‘sociological imagination'. In ‘On Intellectual Craftsmanship’ (1952), Mills provides a wonderfully insightful, beautifully simple overview of his methodological approach. Developed to assist students beginning independent research, it unfolds into a commentary on the role of the intellectual and, with echoes of Aristotle, identifies the action of reflection as the ‘most passionate endeavour of which a man is capable’ (p. 62).
Summers’ introduction provides a skilfully crafted overview of the context of Mills’ life and work. His decision to exclude Mills’ earlier technical essays is, perhaps, lamentable. For those interested in the concepts of legitimacy, sovereignty, responsibility, civic virtue and the ideals of democracy, this collection offers only an appetiser. However, the collection provides a fresh perspective on Mills’ intentions and focus as a radical cultural critic.
Susan Murphy
(University College Dublin)
This short and highly accessible text is a discussion on the sheer irrationality of rational choice theory (RCT) – that ideology of self-interest that has spread, virus-like, over the globe. Michael Taylor's argument is that RCT has been used to justify the dissolution of community, the alienation of individuals from their ancestral homes and, most regularly in this book, the destruction of the environment. The arrogance with which certain interests have used legal apparatuses to demand land from peoples (who themselves never believed it was something that could be owned) has been enabled and justified by the normative, reductive, short-termist perspective of neoclassical economists, who themselves would not have to live with the consequences of their own prescriptions.
This is not merely a polemic about how economics has been used to change the balance of power towards existing elites as in Naomi Klein's Shock Doctrine (2007). Rationality and the Ideology of Disconnection is important for many reasons. Firstly, it is written from the perspective of a thinker who has, in the past, actually been a practitioner of the theory he unpicks. It is rare to find such intellectual courage among the advocates of cost–benefit analysis and the market ideal.
Secondly, although Taylor studies the devastating effects of the application of these theories, he rigorously explains and analyses the fundamentals of each aspect of RCT, demonstrating how fluid and vague the key principles are and underscoring the reductive and dehumanising nature of its prescriptions. He looks inside the engine of modern neoclassical economics and finds a system that ultimately can only lead to social, economic and environmental disaster.
This leads to the third and most important reason for this being one of the most significant texts to emerge at this critical juncture in our shared histories. Many of the economists who provided the rationale for public policy decisions that contributed to the current global imbroglio are not radically different in their thinking from those who are advising on recovery. Failed financial institutions have been recapitalised, but the victims of their greed have been cut adrift. In effect, the application of RCT has been a prescription for poverty, pollution and pain for many people. The economists who advocated this have walked away from the social train wreck it has produced and washed their hands of responsibility, blithely quoting Keynes’ remark that when the facts changed, he changed his mind. This simply will not do anymore, and Taylor's work suggests how we may attempt to repair our damaged social structures.
John Cullen
(National University of Ireland, Maynooth)
Over the last twenty years the German philosopher and critical theorist Axel Honneth has developed Frankfurt School critical theory with his own research programme around the concept of recognition. Drawing on Hegel as well as earlier Marxists and critical theorists, Honneth has argued that we need the concept of recognition in order to understand the basic moral grammar of society and to understand distortions of this basic morality. He divides recognition along three axes: love, respect and esteem, and these ideals form the basis for a critical theory of the family, legal rights and the workplace.
As the title of Bert Van den Brink and David Owen's edited volume suggests, the contributors to the book discuss Honneth's concept of recognition in the context of power and ideology (but less so in the context of the tradition of critical theory). The book contains eleven original chapters by leading scholars in the field, with the chapters divided into three parts: philosophy, social theory and political theory, of which the latter two will be of particular interest to this journal's readers. The book also contains a short but useful introduction to Honneth's work as well as two pieces by Honneth: a reply to his critics and a chapter on recognition, power and ideology. While the latter illuminates Honneth's own approach to the question of the relationship between recognition and power, the reply to his critics only contains rather brief replies which do not always do justice to the very careful critiques put forward by the contributors.
Although the contributions do not all share the same conception of power and the same theoretical background, they all address – and shed light on – the questions of power and ideology in Honneth's theory of recognition. Simplifying a little, the contributors address the question of whether recognition is inherently distorted by power and ideology. To quote the editors’ introduction, the contributors ask whether ‘Honneth's specification of the principle of recognition … itself inadvertently plays the ideological role of disguising and legitimating certain operations of power’ (p. 22). This is also the subject of Honneth's own contribution to the volume, where he argues that it is possible to distinguish ideological instances of recognition (which reproduce existing relations of domination) by specifying the normative content of recognition and, thus, specifying how true recognition can be distinguished from ideological recognition. Needless to say, most of Honneth's critical interlocutors disagree with him on this, but together they move the debate on recognition forward by addressing this very central question of the relationship between recognition and power and ideology.
Lasse Thomassen
(Queen Mary, University of London)
In this ambitious and meticulously researched book, David Lay Williams provides a vigorous defence of the thesis that Rousseau's ‘commitment to Platonism animates his entire belief system’ (p. 88) and that he should be considered one of ‘the greatest and most consistent Platonists of the modern era’ (p. 94). Williams’ metaphysical interpretation departs from those readings – associated with Leo Strauss and followers – that ascribe to Rousseau a positivist understanding of the social contract and a correspondingly conventionalist account of justice. Against this line, Williams argues that Rousseau understands justice in transcendental but also indeterminate terms, unlike Hobbes, who accepted the latter construal but not the former, and unlike Locke, who accepted the former but not the latter. Justice is thus metaphysical in form, but also sensitive to political contexts in its content.
Why does this metaphysical commitment render Rousseau a Platonist specifically? For Williams, the explanation is partly historical: eighteenth-century France witnessed the rise of materialism (and a corresponding proto-utilitarianism) through the writings of La Mettrie, Helvétius, D'Holbach and Diderot. As Williams points out, Rousseau – influenced by neo-Platonic figures like Malebrance and Fénelon – regarded materialism as a moral and political menace. The book begins by reconstructing this bifurcation of philosophical camps as intellectual context and then moves to a textually scrupulous analysis of Rousseau's writings, discussing the parallels with Plato's understanding of justice (in the Laws) and of education (in the Republic).
Rousseau's employment of metaphors of chains and his account of education are fruitfully explored, as is the relationship between his understanding of the ‘general will’ and the version subsequently developed by Kant. His oft-ignored worries about tyranny and the consequent ‘checks and balances’ required for legitimate government are revealingly examined across his corpus, as are the resources for critique provided in his commitment to equality, where, as Williams acknowledges, Rousseau and Plato diverge (p. 172), as they do also on the political status of women (p. 178).
Williams’ Platonic reading of Rousseau is refreshing, illuminating and compelling. The only possibly superfluous chapter traces the idea of critique in Marx and Foucault back to Rousseau. Williams suggests that because Foucault's anti-foundationalist critique is question-begging at the normative level, we need to return to the sort of transcendental arguments found in Rousseau (p. 270), which strikes me as unconvincing. This is a very minor criticism, however, and Williams’ accomplished book is a highly significant contribution to our understanding of a perennially beguiling political thinker.
Robert Lamb
(University of Exeter)
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