The Theory and Practice of Recognition 9781032195070, 9781032196008, 9781003259978

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“This volume is an unforeseen synthesis of a wide range of expertise, an essential reading to any scholar working in the field of social philosophy.” Joona Taipale, University of Jyväskylä, Finland

The Theory and Practice of Recognition

This volume presents new essays on the theory and practice of recognition. In order to retain its overall plausibility as a critical social theory, contemporary recognition theory needs to be able to successfully combine theory with real-life perspectives, in both contemporary and historical contexts. Contemporary recognition theory has developed into an established and active multidisciplinary research programme. The chapters in this volume have two main purposes. First, they engage in theoretical development of the contemporary theories of recognition. They explore the conceptual histories and the environments of recognition, as well as the connection between recognition and authenticity, emancipation, and social ontology. Second, they connect the theoretical insights of contemporary recognition with analyses of contemporary and ­historical social practices. These contributions explore themes such as populism and polarization, models of harmful invisibilization and social ignorance, the problem of evil and suffering, and social justice phenomena such as the #MeToo movement. The Theory and Practice of Recognition will be of interest to scholars and advanced students working in social and political philosophy, social ontology, political theory, and sociology. Onni Hirvonen is Senior Researcher in philosophy in the Department of Social Sciences and Philosophy at the University of Jyväskylä. His main interests are in Hegelian philosophies of recognition and contemporary social ontology. His recent publications in these areas include the peer-reviewed articles “Recognition and Civic Selection” (2021), “The Problem of the First Belief: Group Agents and Responsibility” (2020), and “Recognitive Arguments for Workplace Democracy” (with Keith Breen, 2020). He has edited a book on the philosophy and politics of recognition in Finnish (2020). Heikki J. Koskinen is a PhD and a docent of theoretical philosophy. He works as a Senior Advisor at the University of Helsinki, Finland. Koskinen is the author of From a Metaphilosophical Point of View: A Study of W. V. Quine’s Naturalism (2004). He has co-edited several books, including Categories of Being: Essays on Metaphysics and Logic (2012) and Recognition and Religion: Contemporary and Historical Perspectives (Routledge, 2019). Koskinen’s recent journal publications include “Antecedent Recognition: Some Problematic Educational Implications of the Very Notion” (2018), “Mediational Recognition and Metaphysical Power: A Systematic Analysis” (2020), and “Recognition, Identity, and Authenticity in the Blues” (2021).

Routledge Studies in Contemporary Philosophy

Existentialism and the Desirability of Immortality Adam Buben Recognition and the Human Life-Form: Beyond Identity and Difference Heikki Ikäheimo Autonomy, Enactivism, and Mental Disorder A Philosophical Account Michelle Maiese The Philosophy of Fanaticism Epistemic, Affective, and Political Dimensions Edited by Leo Townsend, Ruth Rebecca Tietjen, Hans Bernhard Schmid, and Michael Staudigl Mental Action and the Conscious Mind Edited by Michael Brent and Lisa Miracchi Titus Epistemic Injustice and the Philosophy of Recognition Edited by Paul Giladi and Nicola McMillan Evolutionary Debunking Arguments Ethics, Philosophy of Religion, Philosophy of Mathematics, Metaphysics, and Epistemology Edited by Diego E. Machuca The Theory and Practice of Recognition Edited by Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen For more information about this series, please visit: https://www.routledge. com/Routledge-Studies-in-Contemporary-Philosophy/book-series/ SE0720

The Theory and Practice of Recognition Edited by Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen

First published 2023 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 and by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2023 selection and editorial matter, Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this title has been requested ISBN: 978-1-032-19507-0 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-19600-8 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-25997-8 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978 Typeset in Sabon by SPi Technologies India Pvt Ltd (Straive)

Contents

Preface Acknowledgements List of Contributors

ix x xi

The Theory and Practice of Recognition: An Introduction

1

ONNI HIRVONEN AND HEIKKI J. KOSKINEN

PART I

Recognition, Personal Life, and Constitution of the Self

15

1 Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition

17

CILLIAN MCBRIDE

2 Recognition and the Human Life-Form: Towards an Anthropological Turn in Critical Theory

34

HEIKKI IKÄHEIMO

3 Mutual Recognition and Well-Being: What Is It for Relational Selves to Thrive?

53

ARTO LAITINEN

4 Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect

76

ANTJE GIMMLER

5 Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment

96

CARL-GÖRAN HEIDEGREN

6 The Gift Model of Recognition VERONIKA HOFFMANN

113

viii Contents PART II

Political Practice and the Theory of Recognition

129

7 Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition

131

CHRISTOPHER F. ZURN

8 The Environment of Recognition

150

SIMON THOMPSON

9 Creating Irrelations: The #MeToo Phenomenon in the Light of Recognition Theory

168

JAANA HALLAMAA

10 How to Criticize? On Honneth’s Method

190

MIKAEL CARLEHEDEN

11 Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms in Contemporary Recognition Theory

214

HEIKKI J. KOSKINEN

12 Institutionally Mediated Recognition: A Vicious Circle?

228

ONNI HIRVONEN

PART III

Historical and Religious Practices of Recognition

249

13 Recognition and Fides: Old and New Paths of Conceptual History

251

RISTO SAARINEN

14 “I Am Not Like Other People!” Desire for Esteem within the Community of Equals

270

RITVA PALMÉN

15 Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire

290

MAIJASTINA KAHLOS

16 Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy: Pragmatism, Antitheodicy, and the Recognition of Suffering

305

SAMI PIHLSTRÖM

Index

323

Preface

In June 2018, the Academy of Finland Centre of Excellence Reason and Religious Recognition and Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies organized a working conference with the preliminary book title Recognition: Its Theory and Practice. Those were beautiful sunny days, full of interesting discussions and debates. Talks were given about autonomy, populism, consent, institutions of recognition, historical practices of recognition, failures of human relationships, the meaning of recognition for human life, and much more. In short, we were aiming to broaden our understanding of our shared social life and its practices. Those were also the days when the first steps were made to organize those ideas into book form. As anyone who has ever edited a collection of philosophical articles knows, thinking and writing take their time. During the years from those first steps into the finished collection, a lot has changed in the world itself. Happy days of sunny Helsinki soon shifted into a global pandemic that has plagued us for the past two years and put a strain on the lives of billions of individuals. As if that was not enough, right now, as we are making the finishing touches to the book, a war rages in Europe again – destroying life, breaking apart social bonds, and showing us the results of the ultimate negation of respect and solidarity. No philosophical text can fix that sort of tragedy, but we hope that the readers will find from this book some hints at what makes human social life worth living and what makes sociality and reciprocity so important for us. There are multiple ways in which we can be wrong in our relations with others, but there is also a myriad of potentialities for recognizing each other in a meaningful way in our everyday life. March 2022, Jyväskylä and Helsinki Onni Hirvonen Heikki J. Koskinen

Acknowledgements

The editors would like to thank Andrew Weckenmann and Sam Schuman at Routledge and Saritha Srinivasan and Melissa Brown Levine at Straive for their guidance and support in completing this volume. They would like also to thank the contributors, without whom this volume would not be. Thank you Antje, Arto, Carl-Göran, Chris, Cillian, Heikki, Jaana, Maijastina, Mikael, Risto, Ritva, Sami, Simon, and Veronika! The editors are deeply grateful to Alison Beale for helping to straighten some stylistic and linguistic kinks in most of the chapters. A big thank you belongs also to Akseli Ekola for helping with the index. The Centre of Excellence Reason and Religious Recognition made the whole book project possible by providing the funding for organizing our initial work meeting, and the Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies kindly provided us with the wonderful facilities for the work during the meeting. Chapter 10 has also appeared as Carleheden, Mikael (2021). ‘How to criticize? On Honneth’s method’ in Distinktion: Scandinavian Journal of Social Theory (Volume 22, Issue 3, pages 299–318) and is reprinted by permission of the publisher, Taylor & Francis Ltd.

Contributors

Mikael Carleheden is Associate Professor of Sociology, co-director of Centre for Anthropological, Political and Social Theory at the University of Copenhagen, and Coordinator for Research Network 29 (Social Theory), European Sociological Association. His recent publications include “The Ideal of Freedom in the Anthropocene: A New Crisis of Legitimation and the Brutalization of Geo-social Conflicts,” Thesis Eleven (forthcoming 2022), written together with Nikolaj Schultz; “How to Theorize? On the Changing Role and Meaning of Theory in the Social Sciences,” in M. Nagatsu and A. Ruzzene (eds.), Contemporary Philosophy and Social Science, Bloomsbury (2019); and “Habermas in Schweden: Eine Rezeption mit Hindernissen,” in L. Corchia, S. Müller-Doohm and W. Outhwaite (Hrsg.), Habermas global: Wirkungsgeschichte eines Werks, Suhrkamp (2019), written together with Carl-Göran Heidegren. Antje Gimmler is Professor of Applied Philosophy and Director of the Centre for Applied Philosophy at the University of Aalborg. Her main research fields are applied philosophy of science, social philosophy, theory of democracy, and philosophy of technology. Recent articles are “Recognition: Conceptualization and Context,” in Leiulfsrud and Sohlberg (eds.); Concepts in Action, Brill Publishers (2018); “Practices We Know by – Knowledge as Transformative,” in Buch and Schatzki (eds.), Questions of Practice in Philosophy and Social Theory, Routledge (2018); “The Relevance of Relevance for Research Ethics,” in Otrel-Cass, Andree and Ryu (eds.), Examining Ethics in Contemporary Science Education Research: Being Responsive and Responsible, Springer (2020); and “Expertise That Matters,” Philosophical Inquiries (2020). Jaana Hallamaa is Professor of Social Ethics at Helsinki University and Life Member of Clare Hall, Cambridge. In her recent publications, she has dealt with various topical issues: “Hate Speech as a Form Action,” in O.-P. Vainio and P. Kärkkäinen (eds.), Apprehending Love: Theological and Philosophical Inquiries, Luther-Agricola Gesellschaft

xii Contributors (2019); “What Could Safety Research Contribute to Technology Design?,” in M. Rauterberg (ed.), Culture and Computing. Design Thinking and Cultural Computing, Springer (2021); and “AI Ethics as Applied Ethics,” in Frontiers in Computer Science Human-Media Interaction (2022) with Taina Kalliokoski. Carl-Göran Heidegren is Professor of Sociology at Lund University. His main research interests are sociology of philosophy, recognition theory, and sociology of culture. Among his recent publications are “Prospects of the Sociology of Philosophy,” Analyse & Kritik 41(1), 2019, 117–123, “Recognition in Philosophical Anthropology,” in Ludwig Siep, Heikki Ikäheimo and Michael Quante (eds.); Handbuch Anerkennung, Springer (2021), 385–389; and “Hegelianism Goes North. Hegel in the Scandinavian Countries,” Hegel-Jahrbuch (forthcoming 2022). Veronika Hoffmann is Professor of Systematic Theology at the Faculty of Theology at the University of Fribourg (Switzerland). Her main research interests are in religious epistemology (religious doubt, the use of models in theology) and the interrelatedness of concepts of reality and of the reality of God. Her latest publications include Wirklich? Konzeptionen der Wirklichkeit und der Wirklichkeit Gottes (2022), “Individualised versus Institutional Religion: Is There a Mediating Position?,” in Jörg Rüpke et al. (eds.), Religious Individualization: Types and Cases (2020), and “Glaube, Zweifel – Freiheit? Beobachtungen in einem wenig ausgeleuchteten Diskursfeld,” in Klaus von Stosch and Saskia Wendel (eds.), Streit um die Freiheit. Philosophische und theologische Perspektiven (2019). Heikki Ikäheimo is Senior Lecturer in Philosophy at the School of Humanities and Languages at the University of New South Wales Sydney. He is the author of Recognition and the Human Life-Form: Beyond Identity and Difference (2022), Anerkennung (2014), and Self-Consciousness and Intersubjectivity (2000) and co-editor of Handbuch Anerkennung (2021), Recognition and Ambivalence (2021), Recognition and Social Ontology (2011), and Dimensions of Personhood (2007). Maijastina Kahlos is a Docent at the University of Helsinki and Visiting Fellow at Clare Hall, University of Cambridge. She is the author of Religious Dissent in Late Antiquity (2020); Forbearance and Compulsion: The Rhetoric of Tolerance and Intolerance in Late Antiquity (2009); Debate and Dialogue: Christian and Pagan Cultures, c. 360–430 (2007); and Vettius Agorius Praetextatus (2002). She has edited and co-edited several books, e.g. The Faces of the Other: Religious Rivalry and Ethnic Encounters in the Later Roman World

Contributors  xiii (2012), Recognition and Religion: Contemporary and Historical Perspectives (2019), and Slavery in the Late Antique World, 150–700 CE (2022). Arto Laitinen is Professor of Social Philosophy at Tampere University, Finland. He has written a number of publications on recognition, solidarity, social pathologies, and social ontology. Cillian McBride is Senior Lecturer in Political Theory at the School of History, Anthropology, Philosophy, and Politics, Queen’s University Belfast. His research focuses on the ethics and politics of recognition and on social and political freedom. He is the author of Recognition (Cambridge: Polity Press, 2013) and co-editor of Recognition, Equality, and Democracy: Theoretical Perspectives on Irish Politics (London: Routledge, 2008) and Exploring Republican Freedom (London: Routledge, 2018). Ritva Palmén is Finnish Academy Research Fellow affiliated with the Faculty of Theology, University of Helsinki. Her research interests include history of philosophy, medieval philosophical theology, and the study of social emotions. Her recent publications include the coedited volume Recognition and Religion: Contemporary and Historical Studies (co-authored with Maijastina Kahlos and Heikki J. Koskinen, Routledge 2019) and journal articles such as a “Recognition Theory and Agreement in Conflict: The Case of Peter Alfonsi’s Dialogus Contra Ludaeos,” in Recontres de Philosophie Medievale, Brepols [coauthored with Heikki J. Koskinen, forthcoming 2022]; “Comparing Oneself to Others and Estimating Oneself in Thomas Aquinas’s Moral Philosophy,” History of Political Thought 42(3), 414–440 and “I Need to Be Individually Loved, Lord, Let Me Recognize Your Gift! The Gifts of Love in Hugh of St. Victor’s (d. 1141) Soliloquium,” in Speculum, A Journal of Medieval Studies 95(1), 167–185. She has also co-edited (with Heikki Haara) a book on philosophy, religion, and recognition in Finnish (2017). Sami Pihlström is Professor of Philosophy of Religion at the University of Helsinki, Finland. He is currently also the President of the Philosophical Society of Finland. He has published widely on, for example, pragmatism, transcendental philosophy, and philosophy of religion. His recent books include Pragmatic Realism, Religious Truth, and Antitheodicy: On Viewing the World by Acknowledging the Other (Helsinki University Press, 2020), Why Solipsism Matters (Bloomsbury, 2020), and Pragmatist Truth in the Post-Truth Age: Sincerity, Normativity, and Humanism (Cambridge University Press, 2021). Risto Saarinen is Professor of Ecumenics at the University of Helsinki. He was the Director of the Academy of Finland’s Centre of Excellence

xiv Contributors “Reason and Religious Recognition” from 2014 to 2019. His recent books include Recognition and Religion: A Historical and Systematic Study (Oxford University Press, 2017) and Luther and the Gift (Mohr Siebeck, 2017). His current research interests deal with the intellectual history of reconciliation, hope, and justice. Simon Thompson is Associate Professor of Political Theory at the University of the West of England, Bristol, United Kingdom; he is also an Affiliated Member of the Centre for the Study of Ethnicity and Citizenship, University of Bristol. He is author of The Political Theory of Recognition (2006) and co-editor of Global Justice and the Politics of Recognition (2013); The Politics of Misrecognition (2012); Politics and the Emotions (2012); Emotions, Politics and Society (2006); and Richard Rorty: Critical Dialogues (2001). He has co-edited special issues of Ethnicities (2012, 2022) and Res Publica (2012). He has also published articles in a wide range of journals including Constellations, Contemporary Political Theory, Ethnicities, European Journal of Political Theory, Philosophy and Social Criticism, Political Studies, Res Publica, and Social and Legal Studies. His current research focuses on the relationship between politics and religion, in particular how the expression of religious identities is regulated in public space. Christopher F. Zurn is Professor of Philosophy at the University of Massachusetts Boston. He works in social and political philosophy, and his publications include the monographs Axel Honneth: A Critical Theory of the Social (Polity, 2015) and Deliberative Democracy and the Institutions of Judicial Review (Cambridge UP, 2007) and the coedited books Anerkennung (Akademie, 2009)/The Philosophy of Recognition (Lexington, 2009) with H.-C. Schmidt am Busch and New Waves in Political Philosophy (Palgrave, 2009) with B. de Bruin.

The Theory and Practice of Recognition An Introduction Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen

Based largely on the foundational work of Axel Honneth since the early 1990s, contemporary recognition theory has developed into an established and active multidisciplinary research programme in social and political philosophy. Among the topics that contemporary recognition theory analyses are the various social preconditions of fully functional adult personhood, individual autonomy, and participatory citizenship. According to a common conceptualization, respect, esteem, and emotional support constitute crucial dimensions of social interaction that make individual, social, and political good life possible (see, e.g., Honneth 1995; Ikäheimo 2014; Thompson 2006). In addition, this threefold articulation offers effective tools for analyzing the darker side of social pathologies in the forms of misrecognition and non-recognition. The concepts and phenomena of recognition are also at the heart of many globally pressing issues of identity politics, multiculturalism, and religion. Contemporary recognition theory has received ever more sophisticated treatment in the growing research literature, and its applications have been extended to new grounds, ranging from international politics and immigration to social ontology.1 In this context, we find that it is important to ask careful philosophical questions about the relationship between the theoretical and practical dimensions of recognition. To retain its concrete and pragmatic motivation, as well as its overall plausibility as a critical social theory with emancipatory intent, contemporary recognition theory needs to be able to successfully combine the top-down contributions of concepts and theory with the bottom-up perspective of the concrete interests of real-life situations, in both contemporary and historical contexts. In addition, the relating of recognition’s theoretical and practical aspects is of central import due to the multidisciplinary nature of recognition theory’s research library. This volume offers a range of independent contributions that delve into the interface of recognition and practical life. However, to begin with, this introduction gives an outline of the concept of recognition and DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-1

2  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen the current state of recognition theory, identifying some central issues worth attention and highlighting the points that the contributors to this volume have raised. The introduction finishes with an overview of the contributions to this volume.

Theories of Recognition As with most of the terms of any natural language, the meaning of ‘recognition’ is by no means self-evident.2 The sense in which the term is used in recognition theories is commonly distinguished from two other senses of ‘recognition’: recognition as identification and recognition as acknowledgement (Ikäheimo & Laitinen 2007). In the first sense, one can identify or understand what an object is: re-cognize it. The second sense refers to the positive acknowledgement of something, such as recognizing a norm or a law. Here, the object is a norm or a normative object – however these are understood. One may, for example, recognize the rules of the local community and through their recognition agree to follow them. Beyond these two, there is a third sense of the word which refers to recognition in interpersonal relationships. This third, so-called Hegelian,3 sense of recognition is the one used in the philosophical and political literature on recognition. It is most commonly taken to refer to attitudes towards others in which we take the other as a person. In short, recognizing another person is to relate to the other in a particular person-regarding way. The appeal of the philosophical and political theories of recognition stems largely from the fact that the concept of recognition ties together multiple aspects of human life. Recognition is both a personal and a political concept. Starting from the former, Hegelian recognition deals with the very constitution of personhood. As the classic formulations have it, recognition is a vital human need (Taylor 1994, 26) or a quasitranscendental feature of human life (Honneth 2003, 174). Indeed, one of the central claims of recognition theories is that social recognition is something that we as social beings need to become who we are. The debate over whether the constitution claim is merely causal (recognition being a central part of those human actions that causally go into our making) or rather ontological (recognition being in some sense necessary for the development of personhood) is one of the theoretical questions within recognition theories that is discussed in this book (see especially Chapter 2 by Heikki Ikäheimo). Furthermore, recognition is also a response to others and their personhood. The responsive element is important for the political theories of recognition, as the theories get their normative force from the idea that recognition is a normative response to certain features or achievements. This normative response is something that can be demanded or expected from others; in other words, we have various normative expectations for the recognition of others.

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  3 However – and this presents a central theoretical crossroad4 – it could be said that in formulating claims about recognition expectations, most theoretical approaches assume a positive or affirmative view of recognition (see Ikäheimo et al. 2021, 6). Recognition in this positive picture is a relationship that builds and affirms (Honneth 1995; see also Anderson 2013), a resource that is wanted and shared (McBride 2013). Against this idea, recent theoretical developments see recognition as more ambivalent and, while imbued with power to make us what we are, it contains the dangers of being formed against one’s will or which can compel us to play by the rules of a normative order that moulds us in a fashion that is not just. This danger was certainly seen already by Jean-Jacques Rousseau (2012 [1755]) in his discourse on the origins of inequality, where the concept of amour propre anticipates that the desire for social recognition can be the root cause of inequality. Similarly, Judith Butler acknowledges that the desire for recognition is dangerous precisely because of the desire that we have for it (Butler 2021; see also McQueen 2015). In short, it is clear that whereas theories of recognition often portray recognition as a positive force, in practice it is much more ambiguous whether all the forms and institutions of recognition are positive. A potential explanation for this ambivalence of recognition is the historicity of the practices of recognition, combined with the fact that recognition-relationships are interlaced with power. Whereas recognition has been formulated as an ‘anthropological constant’, something that is essential for the human life-form or the life-form of persons, most theorists agree that the practical forms of recognition and their realizations in the institutional realm are a product of historical development and social struggle. Put differently, recognition is institutionally mediated, and the recognition expectations – what sort of responses we expect from other persons to our actions and our very being – are historical. This presents a theoretical dilemma: can recognition theorists have their cake and eat it? On the one hand, they suggest an anthropologically grounded normative theory, but on the other hand, they present a social dynamic that is shaped in historical struggles, and that is prone to biases, power dynamics, exploitation, and domination. The question here is how a theory of social dynamics can be both descriptive and prescriptive in a way that is faithful to the given social practices and the normative elements within them and still have compelling normative force, managing to extract an ‘ought’ from an ‘is’ in a justifiable manner. Although a number of chapters in this volume engage in theoretical development of the contemporary theories of recognition, this volume will not provide a final answer to these theoretical dilemmas. Our more modest contribution highlights some of the historical developments, conceptual histories, and the environments of recognition to show how various practices embody recognition and normative expectations. The volume also discusses the anthropological grounds of recognition, its relation to authenticity, and human life.

4  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen

Practices of Recognition One guiding idea behind this volume is that the theoretical dilemmas can be at least highlighted but also perhaps mitigated through an analytical discourse on the very practices of recognition. The strongest theoretical strand of ‘recognition theory’ from the 1990s onwards is firmly situated within critical social philosophy or ‘critical theory’, even though the role of the concept (and phenomena) of recognition and its usefulness for the emancipatory project is hotly debated (see, e.g., Fraser & Honneth 2003; Thompson 2016). This brand of critical philosophy explicitly aims to tie philosophical analysis into an analysis of actual social life and social practices – as well as break down the barriers between social philosophy and empirical social science. Critical theory also separates itself from ideal theory (see, e.g., Chapter 10 by Mikael Carleheden) or positive utopian projects that set models for future societies. Instead, the focus is on the analysis of social wrongs, social suffering, and the diagnostics of social pathologies (Honneth 2014b; Laitinen & Särkelä 2020; Renault 2017). Here the connection between recognition and the institutional world becomes especially relevant. Recognition is tied to institutional practices that are interwoven with habits and cultural practices, and the practical forms of recognition shift through historical processes of progress or regress. Alongside the well-noted theoretical ambivalence of recognition itself, there is also ambivalence to be found in the practices of recognition. This is present in two forms: first, if recognition is institutionally mediated or directed, how do we distinguish good recognition practices from bad practices? Here of course analyses of ideologies and social suffering are especially relevant, but recognition theories also need to rise to the challenge to demonstrate recognition’s normative import. Secondly, following Hegel, it is common to divide the institutional realm into three separate spheres of recognition that express the three separate forms of recognition: institutions of care; institutions that are based on merit, achievements, and work; and legal and governmental institutions. Indeed, the institutional differentiation between family, markets, and civil society is central for modern society. A recent and widely known example of a critical rehabilitation of Hegel’s ideas is offered by Honneth, who argues that each of these basic institutions is based on a particular form of interpersonal recognition (Honneth 1995, 2014a). Family has love and care at its core, markets revolve around esteem for achievements and capabilities, and civil society requires equal and mutual respect between citizens. However, it is unclear whether real institutions and social practices fit neatly into these theoretical frameworks. Perhaps the family sphere ought to have components of love in it, but it certainly has reflected various legal arrangements throughout its history as well; similar challenges

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  5 could be presented for any institution of recognition. Moreover, it seems that the contents of recognitive attitudes – the criteria and the objects of recognition – are subject to change.5 This volume suggests that, on the one hand, recognition theories need to draw from actual practices and have a clear-sighted view of the plurality of those practices. On the other hand, we believe that recognition still provides a normative grammar that is helpful in the analysis of social practices. In line with this, the volume provides an analysis of social practices from two temporal perspectives: contemporary and historical. The contemporary analysis helps to highlight some current practices and the social suffering and misrecognition bound to them. On the one hand, chapters in this volume reaffirm the potential of the recognition approach to analyze social life, applying it to phenomena to which it has thus far rarely been applied: populism and polarization, good life, invisibilization and various negative forms of recognition, #MeToo and relational social justice, and the physical environments of social life. The historical perspective, on the other hand, brings to the fore first of all the relevance of recognition even in times when the theory of the phenomenon did not exist at all. It shows the relevance of social affirmation in the practices of ancient and medieval life. However, the historical analysis also has a critical function, as it demonstrates the changes in our practices and our potential blindness to whatever forms of recognition have been currently institutionalized from our contemporary perspective. In other words, the failures of our institutions of recognition might go unseen while we are struggling for the recognition that fits these institutional realizations of recognition.

In This Volume This volume contains new chapters by top international experts on recognition, as well as by emerging voices in the discussion. Many of the authors have themselves been instrumental both in shaping our understanding of the phenomena and in developing the theory further. This book applies the recognition paradigm to phenomena to which it has not yet been applied, connecting the theoretical approach with social life and enhancing the scope of recognition theories while at the same time testing their limits and practical applicability. In short, this is a philosophical exploration of different models of recognition, their connection with emancipation, and critical social theory. Beyond this introduction, the book is divided into three thematic but partly overlapping sections. The first section focuses on the personal side of recognition, highlighting its relevance for self-relations and authenticity. The second section includes contributions that focus more on the political side of recognition. Here recognition theory is applied to

6  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen political phenomena and practices. This section also includes chapters that analyze the role of recognition in critical theory. The book concludes with a section that takes a historical perspective of the practices of recognition. This perspective is often overlooked in the recognition debate but we believe that it highlights both the relevance of recognition for the human life-form, as well as the historicity of recognition practices. To start the section on the personal life and constitution of the self, Cillian McBride writes on the ideal of authenticity and its relation to recognition. Whereas recognition is often interpreted as something that we desire for our authentic selves – to be recognized as we are – McBride argues that there may be a fundamental conflict between being oneself and the desire for social recognition, such that to be concerned with social recognition is necessarily to be inauthentic. McBride criticizes atomistic assumptions in the contemporary ethics of authenticity and argues that authenticity requires self-reflection, which in turn is aided by social recognition. Nonetheless, McBride aims to retain a sense of selfcentred authenticity which aids us to resist being merely at the mercy of social recognition. According to this contribution, recognition should not be an end in itself – as Rousseau already warned in his analysis of amour propre – but rather a guide to our place in the social world. Heikki Ikäheimo’s contribution argues that recognition characterizes our human life-form at a very deep level. Although some forms of recognition are historically and culturally variable, Ikäheimo argues that there are three universally constitutive facts about human co-existence that are linked to the three dimensions of recognition. Ikäheimo distinguishes between ‘conditional’ and ‘unconditional’ modes of recognition and argues that the latter can provide an anthropological grounding for social theory. Instead of being tied to a particular historical framework of norms, they are tied to human life-form, and thus, the argument goes, they can function as immanent ethical yardsticks for any variation of human life. Arto Laitinen’s chapter concerns what good life means when we take selves to be relational. His approach is to reflect how dominant theories of well-being can account for the relevance of recognition – love, respect, and esteem. The chapter suggests that the relevance of these phenomena is better understood through a new multidimensional conceptualization of well-being in which well-being partly consists of standing in relation to other people. Laitinen’s addition of an irreducibly relational or social dimension to well-being contributes, on the one hand, to theories of wellbeing, but the chapter also argues that a focus on well-being lends support to the relevance of social recognition in general. Antje Gimmler argues that, although the theoretical formulations of recognition that draw from Honneth’s work can be challenged in multifarious ways, there is also a heuristic use of the term ‘recognition’ which is helpful for analyzing human intersubjectivity and self-respect. In her text, Gimmler discusses the concept of recognition within Honneth’s

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  7 work and its reception in critical social theory. She ultimately turns to the eighteenth-century German novel Anton Reiser to make explicit how self-respect can have multiple sources, such as labour, which have been overlooked in Honneth’s work. Carl-Göran Heidegren makes a reference to the very same novel, in addition to other literary works and classical sociology, in his analysis of the varieties of social invisibilization and nonperson treatment. Through these examples, Heidegren provides distinctions between classes of non-recognition and outlines a novel typology of negatively treating others as less than persons. To conclude the first section, Veronika Hoffmann presents a link between the concept of a gift and the concept of recognition. Hoffmann draws from the theories of Marcel Hénaff and Paul Ricœur to argue that the social practice of gift-giving serves, at least on a theoretical level, as a model for certain types of recognition. The second section of this book moves from immediate self-relations to a broader political context of recognition and to the use of recognition theory as a critical theory of society. The section starts with three chapters that analyze contemporary political issues through the lens of recognition. These are followed by three chapters that take a more theoretical stance and evaluate the possibilities and limits of recognition theory as a social theory. Christopher F. Zurn commends recognition theory as a useful tool in the diagnosis of the recent success of populist politicians and parties across many consolidated democracies, and also in the diagnosis of the increases in social polarization of citizens. Zurn argues that recognition theory manages to tie together an analysis of social changes, moral psychology, and the politics of identity while remaining sensitive to the historical changes in the normative orders of society. In this picture, supporters of populist politics are active subjects, motivated by their moral experiences of misrecognition that stem from social life. Zurn suggests that recognition has a causal role in the rise of populism and polarization, as changes in normative recognition orders might elicit practical responses which can turn political participation and freedom into their opposites. Simon Thompson discusses identity politics and its relation to the physical environment of recognition. In the usual reading, recognition is something that happens between human persons, although some theoretical approaches allow recognition between humans and non-human entities – like institutions or corporations – as well. Thompson’s contribution extends this thinking to the social environment in general and discusses what sort of role social environments play in recognition. He approaches this theme by considering whether a concept of collective or accumulative harm could be used to understand how an environment may play a part in a network of recognition-relationships. The theoretical issues are highlighted through a practical example of the former Colston Hall in Bristol – a public music hall building which has been recently

8  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen renamed the Bristol Beacon in acknowledgement of the slave-traderelated past of the original name. Jaana Hallamaa’s chapter applies the recognition paradigm to the #MeToo phenomenon to highlight failures of recognition at the individual as well as at the social level. According to her argument, this phenomenon sheds light upon various forms of non-, ir-, and misrecognition between humans. Hallamaa concentrates on the social space of action that such relations create between the non-/ir-/misrecognizer and the object, as well as the impact such relationships have on the agent. The focus on #MeToo allows us also to better understand the nature of reciprocity in relations that are not based on positive recognition. Moving onto the more theory-focused contributions, Mikael Carleheden outlines the meaning and the role of social critique in Honneth-inspired recognition theories. Social criticism is an essential part of critical social theory, but this seems to clash with the ideal of the value-neutrality of science. Carleheden outlines that social criticism rests on practical and normative reasoning, and his chapter outlines how normative reasoning is done in the context of Honneth’s social theory. Carleheden claims that Honneth’s method of normative reconstruction is in fact too blind to ongoing transformations of ethical life. Instead of adopting a singular model of normative reconstruction, social criticism should be based on a pluralistic method, using different ways of normative reasoning in different contexts. Heikki J. Koskinen’s chapter focuses on the emancipation and interpretation of norms in the context of contemporary recognition theories. The chapter raises four theoretical tensions within recognition theory, the first of which is the tension between autonomy and heteronomy in emancipation: what social dependencies must or can remain from the perspective of emancipation? The second is the potential reach of the immanent criticism present in the critical theory of recognition. Koskinen asks how far we can get by relying solely on reinterpretations of the existing norms. The third theoretical challenge concerns the normative criteria of expectations of recognition: where do the concrete evaluative standards for legitimate expectations of recognition come from? Finally, Koskinen relates recognition theory to ideal political theory and analyses whether the ideals of appropriate recognition amount to an ideal theory. Koskinen suggests that these tensions could be avoided by connecting the critical theory of recognition more explicitly with pragmatism and naturalism. Onni Hirvonen analyzes the potential contradictions in talking about institutional recognition. He argues that institutions only exist if they are accepted or recognized by those who participate in them. However, many of the Hegelian theories of recognition seem to also state that any practical form of recognition is always mediated by institutions, resulting in an apparent circularity: the collective acceptance of institutions is always

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  9 already mediated by institutions. Hirvonen’s chapter aims to solve the apparent contradiction by, firstly, specifying how recognition is precisely mediated through social roles and institutions. This step of the argument makes it explicit what roles different institutions play with regard to practical forms of recognition. In the second step of the argument, Hirvonen argues that the forms of recognitive attitudes that we take towards institutions need to be specified. Hirvonen argues that the common distinction between vertical recognition of institutions and horizontal recognition between individual agents is not in fact conceptually clear nor helpful in this regard. Hirvonen claims that recognition theorists ought to better distinguish different senses of recognition and different kinds of relevant institutions to sidestep the problem of circularity. This contribution clarifies the role of recognition in the formation of institutions and the extent of institutional determination of recognition practices. The third section, on historical and religious practices of recognition, is slightly shorter than the previous ones. This reflects in part the lack of contemporary research that would map historical practices via the concept of recognition. Whereas this volume cannot claim to have filled this lacuna, this section demonstrates the fruitfulness of approaching historical practices through the lens of the concept of recognition. The section starts with Risto Saarinen’s chapter on older and newer paths in the conceptual history of recognition. Saarinen approaches historical religious communities as communities of trust and confidence among their members. This provides an ‘internalist’ approach that relies on the recognition within the group, instead of an ‘externalist’ approach that would categorize religious groups through, for example, their religious doctrines. In addition to arguing for the relevance of an internal recognition perspective in historical research, Saarinen defends the relevance and primacy of conceptual history for an adequate historical understanding of the modern idea of recognition. In her chapter, Ritva Palmén analyzes how practical relations-to-self and identity-formation have been explained in varying cultural and historical conditions. This contribution critically re-evaluates the claims present in contemporary recognition theory about the constitution of selfconfidence, self-respect, and self-esteem by drawing from textual material ranging from late antiquity to twelfth-century spiritual rehearsals and medieval university theology. Palmén focuses especially on the desire for esteem in the context of the medieval Christian cloister, which presents an interesting configuration of the desire for esteem. On the one hand, social life and cohesion in cloisters were founded on the idea of compliance and total submission, which left no room for distinctions based on individual merit. Simultaneously, however, religious communities had highly hierarchical social structures, regulated communication between members of different levels, and strict commands to obey the elders or men of a higher

10  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen rank. Palmén notes that this created the challenge of how to react towards the socially observed desire for esteem and in what way it was possible to either gain or show esteem within a community. The chapter reads historical cases in the light of recognition theory and presents a clearer view of how esteem as a form of recognition has historically changed and, ultimately, what its role in a human society might be. In a parallel to contemporary discussions of citizenship, Maijastina Kahlos’ chapter discusses the historical example of the criteria for recognition of citizenship in the Roman Empire. According to Kahlos, the Roman Empire held an “ethos of asylum”, welcoming refugees and newcomers. Despite this ethos, however, not all the inhabitants of the Roman Empire were its citizens. Kahlos discusses the criteria for citizenship and their changes throughout the centuries – as well as the meaning and the contents of Roman citizenship. She observes that during the expansion of the Empire in the Republican period, to gain citizenship as a mark of membership in the Roman community meant abandoning one’s former lifestyle and embracing a new one. However, when the Roman power in the Mediterranean was consolidated during the Early Imperial period (the first and second centuries C.E.), the strong conception of citizenship based on cultural criteria (such as the Latin language) eroded, and citizenship was built more around the display of loyalty to the ruling power. Kahlos’ main focus is on the criteria for citizenship during the later Roman Empire (200–400 C.E.), which saw the return of the cultural criteria, which, in turn, was impacted by immigration in late antiquity. According to Kahlos, defining Romanness in religious terms became more and more emphasized from the early third century C.E. onwards, and recognition was connected to the correct performance of religion. Kahlos’ chapter highlights the shifting criteria and content for recognition, and thus underlines the historicity of the practices of recognition. To end the volume, Sami Pihlström challenges the idea that theodicies are merely theoretical approaches to suffering. From his pragmatist point of view, the very attempt to defend theodicism by drawing this sharp theory-practice dichotomy is in itself a failure of recognition. Pihlström insists – against much of the Christian tradition – that antitheodicism, which is here understood as the resistance to attempts to explain away the meaninglessness of suffering, is a necessary condition for the possibility of adequately recognizing the suffering of another person. This chapter briefly suggests a way of investigating the relations between attitudes such as recognition and toleration by allowing iterations of the attitudinal ‘operators’ representing these attitudes. Pihlström concludes his chapter by showing how these conceptual developments come to fruition in Primo Levi’s contributions to understanding the Holocaust and the suffering of others. ***

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  11 All the chapters in this volume present insightful and independent contributions to contemporary recognition theory. However, we also hope that the book as a whole serves to show the multiplicity of the theoretical approaches to recognition, as well as the diverse ways in which recognition-relationships can be and have been realized in practice. Our aim has been to advance recognition theory and to emphasize its connection to everyday social practices, which are important to our understanding of ourselves, as well as to broader political life throughout history. We hope that the reader will find our contributions an interesting and thoughtprovoking addition to the developing understanding of our historically formed (and historically forming) social practices and their normative evaluation.

Notes 1 Recent contributions to the literature include such collections as Recognition and Power (van den Brink & Owen 2007), Recognition and Social Ontology (Ikäheimo & Laitinen 2011), Recognition and Ambivalence (Ikäheimo et al. 2021), and Migration, Recognition and Critical Theory (Schweiger 2021). 2 For example, Paul Ricœur (2005) finds 26 different dictionary meanings for the word in the French context alone. 3 Hegel is often taken as the key historical reference for theories of recognition, and, indeed, he is one of the first philosophers who systematically developed the themes of recognition. However, Hegel is by no means the earliest philosopher to analyze interpersonal recognition. Fichte’s detailed analysis predates Hegel’s work, and as shown by Risto Saarinen (2016), medieval authors had complex views on interpersonal and human–God recognition (see also Saarinen’s contribution to this volume in Chapter 13). As long as the assumption is that the phenomena what we now call recognition is an intrinsic part of the human life-form, it should not be surprising that it has been theorized even before Hegel. Although, as Taylor (1994) argues, it might be the case that recognition becomes an issue only in modernity. 4 See Jean-Philippe Deranty (2009) for an extensive mapping of these crossroads within Honneth’s theory of recognition. 5 See, e.g., Smith (2012) for an analysis of the change of standards of esteem at work or Chapter 15 by Maijastina Kahlos in this volume for an outline of the change in standards of citizenship.

References Anderson, Joel. 2013. The Fragile Accomplishment of Social Freedom. Krisis: Journal for Contemporary Philosophy 1: 18–22. Butler, Judith. 2021. Recognition and the Social Bond: A Response to Axel Honneth. In Recognition and Ambivalence, eds. Heikki Ikäheimo, Kristina Lepold, and Titus Stahl, 31–53. New York: Columbia University Press. Deranty, Jean-Philippe. 2009. Beyond Communication: A Critical Study of Axel Honneth’s Social Philosophy. Boston, MA: Brill.

12  Onni Hirvonen and Heikki J. Koskinen Fraser, Nancy, and Honneth, Axel. 2003. Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange. Trans. J. Golb, J. Ingram, and C. Wilke. London: Verso. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition. The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Trans. J. Anderson. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Honneth, Axel. 2003. Redistribution as Recognition: A Response to Nancy Fraser. In Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange, eds. Nancy Fraser, and Axel Honneth. Trans. J. Gold, J. Ingram, and C. Wilke, 110–197. London: Verso. Honneth, Axel. 2014a. Freedom’s Right: The Social Foundations of Democratic Life. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2014b. The Diseases of Society: Approaching a Nearly Impossible Concept. Social Research 81(3): 683–703. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2014. Anerkennung. Berlin: De Gruyter. Ikäheimo, Heikki, and Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Analyzing Recognition: Identification, Acknowledgement, and Recognitive Attitudes towards Persons. In Recognition and Power: Axel Honneth and the Tradition of Critical Social Theory, eds. Bert Van Den Brink, and David Owen, 33–56. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki, and Laitinen, Arto (eds.). 2011. Recognition and Social Ontology. Leiden: Brill. Ikäheimo, Heikki, Lepold, Kristina, and Stahl, Titus (eds.). 2021. Recognition and Ambivalence. New York: Columbia University Press. Laitinen, Arto, and Särkelä, Arvi. 2020. Social Wrongs. Critical Review of International Social and Political Philosophy, Online First https://doi.org/10.1 080/13698230.2020.1853435. McBride, Cillian. 2013. Recognition. Cambridge: Polity. McQueen, Paddy. 2015. Honneth, Butler and the Ambivalent Effects of Recognition. Res Publica 21(1): 43–60. Renault, Emmanuelle. 2017. Social Suffering: Sociology, Psychology, Politics. London and New York: Rowman & Littlefield International. Ricœur, Paul. 2005. The Course of Recognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. 2012 [1755]. Discourse on Inequality. In The Major Political Writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau: The Two Discourses and the Social Contract, ed. and trans. John T. Scott, 37–151. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Saarinen, Risto. 2016. Recognition and Religion. A Historical and Systematic Study. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schweiger, Gottfried (ed.). 2021. Migration, Recognition and Critical Theory. Cham: Springer. Smith, Nicholas H. 2012. Work as a Sphere of Norms, Paradoxes, and Ideologies of Recognition. In Recognition Theory as Social Research, eds. Shane O’Neill, and Nicholas H. Smith, 87–108. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Taylor, Charles. 1994. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition, ed. Amy Gutmann, 25–74. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Thompson, Simon. 2006. The Political Theory of Recognition: A Critical Introduction. Cambridge: Polity.

The Theory and Practice of Recognition  13 Thompson, Michael J. 2016. The Domestication of Critical Theory. London and New York: Rowman & Littlefield International. Van den Brink, Bert, and Owen, David (eds.). 2007. Recognition and Power: Axel Honneth and the Tradition of Critical Social Theory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Part I

Recognition, Personal Life, and Constitution of the Self

1 Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition Cillian McBride

The ideal of authenticity looms large in contemporary life. Emerging as one of the central ethical concerns of modern life in the eighteenth century, its grip on us has not diminished despite widespread scepticism about the value and coherence of the project of achieving authenticity (Guignon 2004). The repeated debunking of particular claims to authenticity may prompt some to conclude that we should simply give up attempting to distinguish the authentic from the inauthentic. The fact that such debunking is so common, however, suggests that the modern attachment to the ideal of autonomy remains as strong as ever: the drive to expose inauthenticity is central to the ethical project of authenticity itself, an ethic which is first and foremost concerned with the importance of avoiding becoming a fake, of losing track of who we are and being lured into trying to be something that we are not. The modern world greatly expands our opportunities for self-realization and self-transformation, but in doing so, it also risks increasing the odds of these projects going awry and one important way in which they can do so is by falling into the trap of wanting to be something one is not and of living a life that is, in some sense, false. As this strikes me as a real possibility, I take it that the concern with authenticity is not fundamentally incoherent or trivial, even if it should not be allowed to trump other moral obligations and ethical concerns.1 What does this ideal of authenticity entail, and is it even a unified ideal in the first place? Trilling famously contrasts it with sincerity: if sincerity is a matter of being what you seem to be and of assuring others that this is the case, authenticity turns inwards, dropping the concern with how one appears to others (Trilling 1972, 5). Authenticity requires us to simply be ourselves. Other formulations stress the way that being authentic is a matter of being natural, rather than forced or overly sophisticated (Larmore 2010), and one particularly persistent thought is that authenticity is a matter of being pure and unadulterated. This is especially evident in ideas about cultural authenticity while in terms of individual, or personal, authenticity this shades into the idea that one must not be subject to external influences. Sometimes the formulation has a distinctly DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-3

18  Cillian McBride moral ring to it, as when we are told, ‘to thine own self be true,’ which in some variants is taken to mean not simply that one should have integrity and resist external pressures (McFall 1987) but that one’s true self provides one with the only moral compass there is, thereby elevating authenticity above ordinary moral and ethical norms. In what follows, I shall foreground the idea of not being false, which is to say that I interpret the concern with authenticity as primarily a matter of resisting pressures to try to be something one is not. The ideal of authenticity does, however, appear to pose a significant problem for the recognitive account of the self, i.e. the view that one’s relation to oneself is inextricably linked to one’s relations to others, specifically the ways in which one is recognized by them. As Ferrara puts it, “Nothing is more inauthentic than an identity constructed with a view to recognition” (Ferrara 1998, 16). This accords well with our ordinary intuitions about inauthenticity: if you’re only in it for the money or the recognition, you can’t be genuinely authentic. To be motivated by the desire for social recognition, including the desire to be recognized as authentic, is necessarily to be inauthentic. If the central thrust of the ideal of authenticity is the idea that one must be oneself – i.e. for oneself rather than being ruled by a concern for what one appears to be for others – then our sensitivity to social recognition appears to represent a fundamental threat to our authenticity. Given the high value attached to authenticity in modern culture, we often encounter the claim to authenticity being deployed to enhance social esteem and the social authority that comes with it or to undermine the status of others who can be represented as in some way ‘inauthentic.’ This move is especially common in political life where authenticity is closely connected to questions of authority, often on grounds of representativeness: the authentic group member is the one whose voice carries the most weight, and of course, authenticity then plays a central role in the internal recognition struggles of social groups. This is an important feature of contemporary struggles for recognition and especially evident in the phenomenon of populism, for example, but it is not our primary concern here, which is rather with the ethical problem of being authentic and avoiding the trap of trying to be someone who one is not. This, however, does not require us to seek social recognition of our authenticity: my concern here is primarily with my own relationship to my life and not with exploiting cultural norms regarding authenticity to enhance my status, as a populist politician may do in claiming to be one of ‘the people.’ The issue here is whether sensitivity to social recognition can play a positive role in my pursuit of an authentic life or whether it exists solely as a threat to this pursuit? In what follows, I will, accordingly, outline a route to reconciling authenticity – one interpretation of it at least – and social recognition. As our recognition sensitivity genuinely makes us vulnerable to being led

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  19 into inauthentic ways of being this reconciliation is a partial one – the tension between authenticity and recognition cannot be overcome once and for all. Rather the reconciliation is to the idea that we must live with this tension as both are inextricably linked to each other. The vulnerability which is an essential feature of the recognitive view of the self is not, however, something we should simply guard against, rather the pursuit of authenticity requires the sort of openness which this vulnerability implies. If there is a way of thinking about authenticity and recognition which allows their coexistence and treats the tension between them as potentially productive, there is also a way of thinking about authenticity which treats it instead as promising a sort of invulnerability to others. On this view, our recognition sensitivity can only appear as a threat. While we are right to make room for authenticity in our ethical deliberations, then, and to want to better understand its relationship to recognition, we have reason to reject this particular modern conception of authenticity as incompatible with the recognitive self and with our social nature per se.

1.1 Authenticity: Individuality and Immersion The tension between authenticity and social recognition has a long history (see Chapter 14 in this volume) and can be found in Augustine, who worries that his youthful self cared too much for the social recognition of his skills as an orator and too little for his relationship with God: “I was praised by people whose approval was at that time my criterion of a good life. I did not see the whirlpool of shame into which ‘I was cast out of your sight’ (Ps.30: 23)” (Augustine 1991, 21). We might note, however, that the opposition here is not so much that between social recognition and the true self but between mundane recognition and God’s recognition. The modern ethics of authenticity does not emerge out of the blue: rather its modern form is the product of a transformation of a preexisting theological discourse about authenticity and inauthenticity, which sees the mundane, secular world as a threat to our authenticity, but identifies the authentic self as that aspect of ourselves that partakes in the divine, rather than as something unique to us.2 The modern, secular, understanding of authenticity takes shape in eighteenth-century France. Here the emergence of civilized ‘polite’ society gives rise to widespread reflection on the tensions between the demands of playing one’s various roles across different contexts and holding on to one’s true self. I must not only conceal my true feelings in order to maintain the good opinion of my interlocutors, to flatter and defer as the occasion demands it, but I must also be a different person depending on who I am interacting with – praising one man to his face but gossiping about him with others as soon as he has left the company. While Rameau’s nephew in Diderot’s story (1976) appears to relish this life, Moliere’s

20  Cillian McBride misanthrope, Alceste, is disgusted by it and concludes, “I plan to leave this world, this filthy den of vice, and find a place where I don’t need to socialise, where I can be myself, don’t have to compromise” (Moliere 2001, 273). Montesquieu resists Alceste’s conclusion and insists that the mask of civility actually helps to conceal our vices from others and facilitates social interaction, a concern echoed in our own time by Richard Sennett (Montesquieu 1989, 317; Sennett 1977, 264). Rousseau, however, famously draws a more radical conclusion: that we should cast off our dependence on such masks and seek to simply be ourselves. This is signalled in the famous opening to his Confessions: I have resolved on an enterprise which has no precedent, and which, once complete, will have no imitator. My purpose is to display to my kind a portrait in every way true to nature, and the man I shall portray will be myself. Simply myself. I know my own heart and understand my fellow man. But I am made unlike any one I have ever met; I will even venture to say that I am like no one else in the whole world. I may be no better, but at least I am different. (Rousseau 1954, 17) In Rousseau, however, we find the seeds of two distinct versions of the ideal of authenticity, connected at the outset by the idea that authenticity is a matter of being ‘natural.’ The view expressed in the Confessions might be called authenticity as individuality, while the second, which we find in the Discourse on the Origins of Inequality, we might call authenticity as collective immersion. Both of these came to influence the Romantics but subsequently parted company, with authenticity as individuality shaping movements such as existentialism and contemporary ideas about individuality, while authenticity as immersion while initially straightforwardly anti-modernist, now shapes much discourse about cultural groups and their ‘traditional’ identities and practices. Despite their common origin in the idea of being ‘natural,’ they come to represent sharply opposed visions of the self and the social order. In the case of authenticity as individuality, we see Rousseau railing against the way that civilized, social, man comes to live in the eyes of others as he learns to compare himself to others and then to seek their recognition, i.e. their esteem, for his traits and deeds. Rousseau laments the way that we lose ourselves in the process, although in the Discourse, his focus is on freedom and equality, rather than on authenticity per se. In becoming socialized in this way, and sensitive to the recognition of others, we are lured into relations of unequal dependence on others (Rousseau 1997, 185). In his political philosophy, Rousseau suggests that we can replace this with the equal dependence of citizens upon one another, rather than hoping to regain our natural freedom by returning to

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  21 the forests, as he puts it. The Confessions, however, suggests that the ideal of radical independence remains alive, and it is this thought which drives authenticity as individualism. Given that we cannot simply return to the forests – i.e. cast off our civilized, social, second nature – the path of authenticity must be one perpetually beset by obstacles, rather as the path to salvation was for Augustine. The dream of effortlessly ‘being oneself’ is transformed in this way into the burden of the radical individualist who must be constantly policing the boundaries of the self in order to purge it of the influence of the ‘crowd.’ The project of authenticity – pursuing authenticity rather than simply being, requires constant reflection on the myriad ways in which one might fail in the task of being responsible for oneself. We must be hyperreflective in order to resist the lure of the social. Take for example Kierkegaard’s worries about the self that allows itself to be, so to speak, cheated of itself by “the others”. By seeing the multitude of people around it, by being busied with all sorts of worldly affairs, by being wise to the ways of the world, such a person forgets himself, in a divine sense forgets his own name, dares not believe in himself, finds being himself too risky, finds it much easier and safer to be like the others, to become a copy, a number along with the crowd. (Kierkegaard 2004, 63–64) The second version of authenticity, collective immersion, takes a different tack. Here, one is natural in being immersed in an unreflective, collective way of life. Rousseau’s natural man, was, of course, an individualist, incapable of speech and free from any social bonds whatsoever, but while Rousseau himself distinguishes, in Emile, between the ‘savage’ – the authentically uncivilized individual – and the peasant who dully conforms to social norms (Rousseau 1911, 83), modern culture has from the outset been preoccupied with the thought that some simpler life is possible and that this is the life being lived somewhere by simple peasants or ‘primitive’ peoples untouched by the stresses and strains of modernity. Rousseau articulates this as a prelapsarian fantasy which we cannot recover, but the hope that perhaps such communities can be found far from the cities in the rural heartland or in distant lands where peoples live closer to nature, unspoiled by civilization, remains a persistent theme in modern culture. In such a simple community, no gap can open up between oneself and what others take you to be because the fundamental unity of such communities excludes the possibility of rival perspectives emerging. These would prompt individuals to engage in reflection on themselves and their social roles to the extent that these require us to respond in different ways to the different contexts we find ourselves in and the different

22  Cillian McBride normative demands these make in us. Scepticism about the possibility of such a communal life marked the difference between Hegel and his contemporaries (Beiser 2005; Pinkard 1994), although this appears to have been overlooked in the communitarian appropriation of Hegel in the 1980s. The search for an authentic, unreflective, collective life is doomed to fail, of course, for on closer inspection, possible candidates always turn out to be more internally complex and self-reflective, more ‘civilized,’ than they may have appeared at first to the uninitiated, a lesson learned early on by Western anthropologists, for example, despite their early fascination with the ‘primitive’ (Evans-Pritchard 1951; Hsu 1964). Where nationalism traditionally sought to find the pure expression of the spirit of nation in peasantry – the activity of “athletic youths and the laughter of happy maidens,” (DeValera 1943)3 such national myths are constantly exposed as inventions, i.e. as inauthentic (Gellner 1983). Similarly, contemporary multiculturalism is dogged by the difficulty of formulating criteria for identifying authentically traditional cultural practices from those shaped by interaction with modern life (Povinelli 2002). Such a life must always remain out of reach to the extent that the moment it has been grasped as ‘authentic’ it has already become reflective and therefore inauthentic – the paradox which fatally undermines all forms of ‘traditionalism.’ These individualist and collectivist models of authenticity appear to be radically opposed to one another. The latter offers an idealized vision of a traditional society, pure, natural, unreflective in which all are automatically home, while the former is a radical, modernist vision in which the individual must become authentic by casting off the dead hand of tradition and liberating itself from the chains of social convention and expectation. The collective version holds out the prospect of effortless authenticity, the second presents authenticity as a challenge, requiring constant vigilance and self-examination. One common way to think of threats to authenticity is simply in terms of an opposition between spontaneity and routine – the deadening demand of social convention crushing our individuality. This idea underlines traditional critiques of industrial society, in particular, with individuality contrasted with the insidious march of standardization and bureaucratization. Rousseau, like his contemporaries, however, seems more concerned with a different sort of threat, that of the pluralism of social life, with the conflicting demands that it brings (Charvet 1974). Each, in different ways, holds out the prospect of invulnerability to this pluralism – one presenting this as already achieved in a world in which deep consensus effectively turns society into a macro-subject, while the other demands a retreat into the ‘inner citadel’ of the self and constant vigilance against social incursions. On this view, it is the pull of social recognition, not of social convention per se, which is the primary threat to authenticity.

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  23

1.2 Being Oneself: Making or Finding? One long-standing worry about the authentic self is that it embodies an unfortunate essentialism, as if our selves are ultimately fixed and can, at most, be revealed or realized rather than be modified. To this extent, the idea of authenticity seems to have too much in common with Aristotelian teleology, albeit with a novel emphasis on our unique individuality. This, together with the problem that reflection of one’s authenticity appears to have a transformative effect, has led some to conclude that authenticity is not only impossible but also embroiled in a reactionary metaphysics. Instead of aiming to discover or realize an already given ‘true’ self, one should rather embrace an ideal of self-creation. In its Nietzschean incarnation, this entails an endless cycle of self-creation and self-destruction. For existentialists, however, the assumption that we have an essential ‘true’ self is simply another way to evade responsibility for oneself. It is, however, possible to think of authenticity in a third, non-essentialist way. On this view, the self may be transformed through self-interpretation, but the practice of self-interpretation is distinct from the aesthetic business of self-creation in that it entails reflection on oneself and one’s relations to others.4 It is still a self we discover, more than one we make, even if it is not essentially fixed. Some versions of self-creation appear to amount to a reassertion of invulnerability through shifting the site of this invulnerability from the particular ideal of self which one takes to be essential, to the formal, choosing, subject which formulates the project of self-creation and then implements the steps required to realize it. Once again, others appear simply as potential obstacles to the carrying out of one’s plan against whom one must be on one’s guard, and this is unsatisfactory from the perspective of the recognitive self, which refuses such a stark contrast between self and other. In this way, authenticity collapses into autonomy. It reflects the same concern with heteronomy and with defending one’s independence against the possibility of external influences. It also suggests that there is a procedural route to authenticity – that if we choose or create our lives following the right procedure, free from the sort of influences that would undermine our choice, our authentic self would be unassailable. It is not obvious, however, that the authentic self and the autonomous subject must be identical. One obvious objection is that, as Williams insists, there is no procedure we can follow which guarantees us success in the pursuit of a good life (Williams 1981). The idea that a life chosen or created autonomously could provide us with such a guarantee seems obviously wrong. Rahel Jaeggi in her discussion of alienation suggests, in effect, one way in which authenticity and autonomy can come apart such that an autonomously chosen life might still fail, in an important sense, to be one’s own life. Jaeggi invites us to consider the case of a young academic who has moved

24  Cillian McBride to the suburbs, married, and had a child. In place of his earlier life, which alternated between partying and intense work, with little structure or routine, his life now is structured around the imperatives of parenthood and the routines of suburbia (Jaeggi 2014, 52). What is vital, in Jaeggi’s interpretation of this case, is that although the young academic is unhappy and feels that this is not his life in some sense, this life is the product of his own informed choices: it has not been imposed upon him but is the product of his own autonomous choice (Jaeggi 2014, 53). While he is alienated from his life, it is not a simple case of heteronomy, of being subject to an alien power. Jaeggi goes on to provide an account of this form of alienation in terms of an interruption of the process of ‘appropriation’ of those unchosen, uncontrolled features of our situation, thereby establishing the sort of relationship to them that renders them consistent with our freedom (Jaeggi 2014, 64). The young academic is alienated because he has failed to appropriate those aspects of his life, the routine commitments that followed from his autonomous choice, and until he does so, he will remain alienated. In Jaeggi’s account, he does not reject his life as such: he sees that it has value but experiences it in a way that suggests he is not fully ‘present’ in it (Jaeggi 2014, 53). Jaeggi identifies a sort of alienation that appears not to stem from heteronomy. It’s not clear, however, whether her solution – a fresh act of appropriation – does not end up treating the problem as one of autonomy/heteronomy after all. The academic, in this interpretation, has simply failed to endorse those routine features of his life which follow from his autonomous choice to adopt this life. These are, if you like, simply overlooked implications of his choice for which he is responsible and which he must now appropriate, i.e. make his own.5 The other possibility would be to take this as an example of the way an autonomously chosen life could, nonetheless, turn out to fail to be one’s own – i.e. inauthentic. Despite having freely placed oneself in this situation, then, this life still feels like a bad fit somehow, and to endorse it would not necessarily serve to make it one’s own but would simply amount to trying to be someone which one is not. On this view, an authentic life is distinct from an autonomous life as such, as it need not be freely chosen, and being freely chosen might not ensure that one’s life is authentic. It must, however, feel ‘natural’ in the sense that it can be experienced as a good fit. Just as one might wear clothes that fit well or badly in which one can be more or less at ease, one’s life may or may not be a good fit in much the same way. This is not some metaphysical fit with one’s unique essence but simply a question about the fit between the person one has become and one’s current life. It does not exclude the possibility that one can over time come to be comfortable in this life, nor does it suggest that one ought not try to come to terms with a life which does not currently fit – one might have powerful reasons to make this effort

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  25 after all. While an autonomy-based understanding of authenticity stresses freedom from external influences, this account simply takes authenticity to be a matter of being natural in the sense of not being counterfeit or phoney. The authentic person is one who is not trying to be something she is not, rather than someone who is beyond the reach of external influence.6 We cannot necessarily fix the problem of feeling one’s life to be inauthentic by an act of appropriation – i.e. by extending our autonomous choice in the previously suggested manner. The appropriation metaphor suggests a deliberate voluntary act, whereas the idea of having a life which is a natural fit for the sort of person you are, which does not require you to falsify yourself, suggests rather a process of reflection on oneself and one’s life. This, of course, counts against the Romantic view that an authentic life must be spontaneous and unreflective (Larmore 2010), but it retains the idea that I must be myself. It simply relies on the idea that this cannot be wholly disconnected from knowing who I am. We do not make ourselves authentic, rather we hope to discover a life which does not require us to be inauthentic by coming to know ourselves and our lives. If autonomy is a procedural value, focusing on how we formulate and carry out our plans, authenticity focuses our attention on the particularities of the lives themselves. This allies it with ideas about selfrealization to the extent that these are concerned with the realization of particular projects and/or capacities but also differs to the extent that whether one finds a life to be a good ‘fit’ or not also directs our attention back to ourselves as we currently are in order to assess the relationship between who we are and the life we are leading. By contrast, self-realization focuses our attention on the goal of becoming something we currently are not or at least actualizing some potential, and in this important respect, it is distinct from questions about how authentic our lives are. If I know myself to be a shy, retiring person who shrinks from the limelight, I should avoid a life that requires me to be the centre of attention. Knowing myself well, I do not try to be something I am not. It may be, of course, that I am attracted to lives that do not appear to be good fits for me. In this case, it may be simply the depth of the contrast between these lives and the person I am that renders them fascinating to me but without any real thought that I would embark upon them. Equally, however, I might suppose that lives other than the one I am leading could be lives I might grow into, calling into play aspects of myself which are little more than dormant capacities at present. While the former is simply a fantasy of a life I know I could not lead, in this latter case, I am attracted by the thought of bringing out untapped potentialities in myself. In this way, reflection on authenticity may feed into a project of autonomous self-realization – the idea of living a life that is a good fit for me need not be a life without ambition, and inhabiting a life in which I am comfortable need not be a matter of foregoing challenges or of resisting change.

26  Cillian McBride It is simply a matter of discovering and maintaining some equilibrium between the demands of my life and the person that I am. This way of thinking about authenticity retains the idea that an authentic life is not fake or phoney but abandons the idea that such a life must be wholly independent of external influences or that it be unreflective. My authentic life might, of course, conform to one of Rousseau’s archetypes – I might indeed feel most myself when immersed in the shared practices of a relatively closed community or in living the life of the ‘heroic’ individual resisting such influences. I may find that my authentic life is the one in which I pursue celebrity – the esteem and admiration of others, something which seems at odds with the traditional notions of an authentic life. These may, or may, not be good lives, and they may or may not be wholly coherent ways of understanding ourselves – the life of the heroic individual in particular – but this does not mean that they cannot be authentic ways of being for someone. Authentic lives need not conform to the idealized models we have inherited from Rousseau, nor, indeed, do they have to be good lives per se – although we obviously have reason to want our authentic life to align with some plausible conception of a good life.

1.3 Recognition and Authenticity It is assumed here that it is for individuals to judge whether their lives are authentic or not, that they alone have the authority to make this judgement – it is not for anyone else to determine whether their lives are authentic or not. There is no standard model an authentic life must conform to – all that matters is that it feels natural to the person concerned and does not demand that they act in ways they feel to be false to who they are. This does not, however, make one’s authenticity a wholly inner, subjective, matter, walled off from our involvement in social relations. If authenticity is best thought of in terms of being oneself rather than being a fake in some sense rather than also in terms of independence from social influences, then we can begin to see how the pursuit of authenticity can be reconciled with our unavoidable sensitivity to social recognition. If social recognition can play a positive role in this project, it can also lead us astray at times as Augustine, Rousseau et al. rightly claim. But this is not the same as supposing that it is necessarily at odds with personal authenticity. There is, ultimately, no way to proof ourselves against this possibility of being led astray by the recognition of others, and the pursuit of authenticity should not be thought to represent a way of eliminating the vulnerability which recognition sensitivity entails. The recognitive account of the subject clearly stands in direct contradiction to the modernist interpretation of individuality which sees our subjectivity as something necessarily undermined by the influence of others. If we only exist as subjects insofar as we are recognized as such by others, then we cannot become subjects by seeking to arm ourselves

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  27 against the pull of social recognition. The path to becoming an individual subject must lie through the recognition of others – a ‘detour’ which we must take if we are to become ourselves (Hegel 1977). Our becoming someone for ourselves is achieved by becoming someone for others and seeing ourselves in them. This is anathema to the idea that authenticity rests on total independence of others and to the idea that an authentic life can be collective without being reflective – the ideal of social immersion. To get a sense of whether I am leading an authentic life or not I cannot simply outsource my judgement to others in the hope that they will simply confirm my authenticity. The practical project of leading an authentic life and being myself in leading this life is a project that requires me to reflect on the relation between myself and my life. I can, however, take my bearings from others in the hope that they can provide me with some perspective on myself and my life. This is primarily because to have a life at all, beyond bare physical existence, is to have a certain set of relations with these others. While my authenticity is an ethical problem for me to address, I need the sort of productive resistance provided by my social relations to others to have an authentic life and to be satisfied that I do. Adam Smith succinctly makes the positive case for social recognition as the necessary condition of self-understanding. Without the ‘mirror’ that others hold up to us, our ideas about ourselves would lack any substance. Were it possible that a human creature could grow up to manhood in some solitary place, without any communication with his own species, he could no more think of his own character, of the propriety or demerit of his own sentiments and conduct, of the beauty or deformity of his own mind, than of the beauty or deformity of his own face. All these are objects which he cannot easily see, which naturally he does not look at, and with regard to which he is provided with no mirror which can present them to his view. Bring him into society, and he is immediately provided with the mirror which he wanted before. It is placed in the countenance and behaviour of those he lives with, which always mark what they enter into, and when they disapprove of his sentiments; and it is here that he first views the propriety and impropriety of his own passions, the beauty and deformity of his own mind. (Smith 2009, 134) Smith makes an important point here: if we cannot know ourselves in isolation from others, then we cannot know ourselves well enough to know if our lives are a good fit for us. The modernist version of authenticity assumes that we can know ourselves through simple introspection and that the perspectives of others are, at best, distractions, and at worst, actively misleading. On this view, however, we have no such privileged

28  Cillian McBride perspective, and while that of others is not necessarily superior to our own, it can play a positive role in helping us to get a clearer understanding of who we are and who we are not. At the same time, Smith’s metaphor perhaps oversimplifies the situation to a degree by suggesting that we can be who we are in isolation from others, even if we cannot really know ourselves. From a recognitive perspective, however, we come to be what we are through our practical relations with others. What Smith’s mirror shows us is not an unchanging form, but the self we have become through our relationships with others, a self that could no doubt have been different had these relations been otherwise but which has taken shape over the years as we have formed commitments, taken on roles, and discovered ourselves in situations not of our choosing and altered our relations to ourselves as we reflect on these relations to others and their reactions to us. We are a product of these interactions, and so the self is, in this sense, made, even if it has not been chosen, through a process of continual interaction and reflection, of mutual adjustment and reorientation. The way we recognize ourselves is inextricably bound up with the ways in which we are recognized by others and the ways in which we recognize them and ourselves in relation to them. So, while Smith’s account of recognition as a mirror is important in showing how social recognition provides a check on our self-knowledge, reassuring us that our self-understanding is sound or alerting us to the possibility that we are not really the person we have taken ourselves to be, this view must be supplemented by consideration of the practical dimension of social recognition. Social recognition, sometimes thought of as a sort of symbolic good in contrast to ‘material’ resources, is fundamentally practical, concerned with our orientation to others and theirs to us. This is why it can be virtually impossible to lead certain sorts of life in its absence – the life of an equal in the absence of respect, for example. Social recognition does not simply confirm or deny facts about us but pulls us in particular directions. It calls us to see ourselves in particular ways, as genuine members of a group, or as interlopers or outcasts, as this sort of person or that.7 The normative quality of social recognition is what exerts this gravitational pull upon us, sometimes holding us back, drawing us back into a life in which we are no longer comfortable. At other times, it tempts us away from the life we have been leading, the responses of others showing us the possibility of leading a different sort of life and of being a different sort of person and calling us to take a step in this direction. These steps can be hazardous, of course, for attractive as these new lives might be, they are not always lives we can comfortably inhabit or lives that are initially comfortable and yet somehow unsatisfactory as the feeling that we are not being true to ourselves comes to take hold. The recognition of others can prompt us to lead more authentic lives, but we can never be secure against the possibility that it is calling us away from such lives and into inauthenticity.

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  29 While Moliere’s misanthrope feared that the pluralism of social life might pull him apart, we should, in fact, take solace from the fact that the social world does not address us simply as a generalized other (Mead 1934, 154) but in a plurality of voices (Benhabib 1992). Faced with this variety of calls to recognize ourselves in different, sometimes contrasting ways, we are prompted to reflect on which of these calls us to be who we truly are and which does not. In this way, we cannot help but achieve a measure of independence from the pull of any particular call to recognize ourselves as this or that. It is, however, a relative, fragile, independence always at risk of being undermined by false moves on our own part. While the temptation to imagine we could be wholly independent of such relations, or that we could immerse ourselves in a univocal communal life that would insulate us from the tensions of existing in a pluralist social world are both strong, the route to an authentic life requires us to live with these tensions and to see them as productive of possibilities, as well as occasional hazards. Being open to social recognition may prompt us to give up trying to lead lives which are not truly ours and find ourselves in lives which are, but equally, it can lure us into making mistakes in this respect, tempting us to see ourselves in ways which turn out to be false and which prompt us to try to be what we are not. The possibility of leading an authentic life, however, requires us to accept this vulnerability to error if we are also to avail of the guidance which recognition provides.

1.4 Conclusion The attempt to make sense of the value of authenticity and to reconcile it with our nature as social, recognition-sensitive, creatures brings to the fore the challenge of coping with our vulnerability to the recognition of others. While the two historically dominant modern strategies for achieving or maintaining authenticity seek to eliminate or minimize this vulnerability, the aim here has been to challenge the value of this strategy by stressing the importance of remaining open to the recognition of others both to help us to correct false self-understandings and to allow us to take advantage of new possibilities of being which these interactions can reveal to us. While the recognition of others can indeed lead us astray, encouraging us to live in ways which we may ultimately judge to be false, there is no way to secure the advantages of openness without accepting the potential costs of such vulnerability. Surprisingly, the theme of vulnerability to others through our sensitivity to recognition is somewhat under-explored in contemporary discussions of recognition. Butler’s discussion of the ever-present possibility that we can be ‘undone’ by the recognition of others is a notable exception in this respect (Butler 2006). It is an important consideration, however, not only for its relevance to the ethical problem of leading an

30  Cillian McBride authentic life but also for larger questions about the politics of recognition. As such, it merits closer attention. The popular notion of ‘cultural’ recognition takes recognition to be a simple matter of affirming the value of cultural identities and traditions (Fraser 2003). To the extent that esteem recognition features here as a sort of symbolic good potentially conferred by majorities on deserving minorities, the idea that the selfrelations of those concerned might be thrown into question or that these might not survive a struggle for recognition does not appear to figure in such accounts.8 On this view, any vulnerability is strictly limited to the power of dominant groups to impose their stereotypes on those subordinate to them (Taylor 1994, 25), but the role of recognition in drawing us into relations of domination or the way in which recognition struggles aim to destabilize and transform existing social identities is apparently neglected. While Honneth’s philosophical anthropology does not fall into the traps which bedevil cultural recognition debates, it might be argued that his focus on identifying basic recognition needs, while valuable, cannot supply a comprehensive account of the politics of recognition, one which must include the centrality of such struggles and accordingly attach greater weight to vulnerabilities which the recognitive self is exposed. In this respect, there may be more to learn from discussions such as Fanon’s (2008) subtle insights on the role of recognition in constituting and resisting colonialism and racism (see also McBride 2013). Such struggles are not resolved or transformed through the simple affirmation of identities, but this struggle can be resolved through dissolving the existing identities of those involved and the social relations which sustain them. This move, however, is not a challenge to the recognitive subject per se as some suppose (Fraser 2003) but only to inadequate conceptions of social recognition that fail to grasp the vulnerabilities and interdependencies involved in being recognition-sensitive beings. This takes us some distance from the sort of personal authenticity, perhaps, but it does show that the theme of vulnerability and the failure of attempts to escape it has resonances far beyond the particular problem of the relation between personal authenticity and social recognition with which we have been concerned here.

Acknowledgements Thanks to Onni Hirvonen, Heikki Koskinen, Ritva Palmén, Seiriol Morgan, Alan Wilson, and the participants in the Recognition: Its Theory and Practice Workshop Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies, the Authenticity Workshop, QUB, and the ‘Conflict, Solidarity, and Recognition’ Workshop at the University of Bristol for their comments on earlier drafts of this chapter, and special thanks to Tom Walker for pointing out one especially glaring inconsistency.

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  31

Notes 1 Ferrara (1998) argues that we should consider abandoning the rigors of autonomy for a suitable theory of authenticity. Honneth, however, warns that authenticity typically represents a one-sided Romantic conception of freedom (2004, 383). Larmore (2010) wants to preserve the moment of spontaneity in authenticity but opposes elevating it above other values. 2 See Palmén in this volume for a further exploration of these themes. 3 These particular expressions appear in a famous speech made by Irish president and independence leader Eamon DeValera (1943). The role of authenticity in ethnic nationalism is complex – on the one hand, the idealized rural heartland suggests collective immersion, but in practice, the hyperreflexivity associated with of individual authenticity is also to be found as the normative ideal of the pure, authentic nation requires the constant weeding out of impure foreign influences. 4 Heidegger (2010) famously offers a non-essentialist, but also apparently nonsocial, version of authenticity, while Taylor (1989) develops a more thoroughly social account of the self along similarly hermeneutic lines. 5 The idea of appropriating or endorsing unchosen features of our lives and rendering them consistent in doing so reconciles autonomy with our social existence by repudiating Kant’s requirement of causal independence, a requirement that would make autonomy impossible (Dworkin 1988). 6 If authenticity and autonomy can come apart in this way, just as morality and authenticity can, then we cannot exclude the possibility that some lives may be authentic but not autonomous, e.g. that of the person who genuinely feels at ease with being an instrument of others – the servile person, for example. We may indeed have reason not to prize authenticity above other values. 7 Althusser (2001) famously sees the call of recognition as purely ideological, but see Honneth’s nuanced 2012 discussion. 8 Honneth (2004) has always resisted treating recognition simply as a matter of distributive justice.

References Althusser, Louis. 2001. Ideology and Ideological State Apparatuses in Lenin and Philosophy. New York: Monthly Review Press. Augustine. 1991. Confessions, 397–400. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Beiser, Frederick. 2005. Hegel. London: Routledge. Benhabib, Seyla. 1992. Situating the Self. Cambridge: Polity Press. Butler, Judith. 2006. Violence, Mourning, Politics. Precarious Life. London: Verso. Charvet, John. 1974. The Social Problem in the Philosophy of Rousseau. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. DeValera, Eamon. 1943. The Ireland That We Dreamed Of. Radio Teilifís Éireann. https://www.rte.ie/archives/exhibitions/eamon-de-valera/719124-address-bymr-de-valera/ Accessed 30 July 21. Diderot, Denis. 1976. Rameau’s Nephew. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Dworkin, Gerald. 1988. The Theory and Practice of Autonomy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Evans-Pritchard, Edvard Evan. 1951. Social Anthropology. London: Cohen and West

32  Cillian McBride Fanon, Frantz. 2008. Black Skin White Masks. London: Pluto Press. Ferrara, Alessandro. 1998. Reflective Authenticity: Rethinking the Project of Modernity. London and New York: Routledge. Fraser, Nancy. 2003. Social Justice in the Age of Identity Politics: Redistribution, Recognition, and Participation. In Redistribution or Recognition? A PoliticalPhilosophical Exchange, eds. Nancy Fraser, and Axel Honneth. Trans. J. Gold, J. Ingram, and C. Wilke, 7–109. London: Verso. Gellner, Ernest. 1983. Nations and Nationalism. Oxford: Blackwell. Guignon, Charles. 2004. On Being Authentic. London: Routledge. Heidegger, Martin. 2010 [1953]. Being and Time. New York: State University of New York Press Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 1977 [1807]. Phenomenology of Spirit. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Honneth, Axel. 2004. From Struggles for Recognition to Plural Concepts of Justice. Acta Sociologica 47: 383–391. Honneth, Axel. 2012. Recognition as Ideology: The Connection between Morality and Power. In The I in We, 75–97. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hsu, Francis L.K. 1964. Rethinking the Concept “Primitive”. Current Anthropology 5: 169–178. Jaeggi, Rahel. 2014. Alienation. New York: Columbia University Press. Kierkegaard, Søren. 2004. The Sickness unto Death: A Christian Psychological Exposition of Edification and Awakening by Anti-Climacus. London: Penguin. Larmore, Charles. 2010. The Practices of the Self. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. McBride, Cillian. 2013. Recognition. Cambridge: Polity Press. McFall, Lynne. 1987. Integrity, Ethics 98: 5–20. Mead, George Herbert. 1934. Mind, Self, and Society. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago. Moliere. 2001. The Misanthrope. In The Misanthrope, Tartuffe, and Other Plays. Trans. M. Slater, 207–274. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Montesquieu. 1989. The Spirit of the Laws. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pinkard, Terry. 1994. Hegel’s Phenomenology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Povinelli, Elizabeth A. 2002. The Cunning of Recognition. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. 1954. The Confessions of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. 1997. The Discourses and Other Early Political Writings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. 1911 [1762]. Emile. London: Dent. Sennett, Richard. 1977. The Fall of Public Man. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Smith, Adam. 2009. The Theory of Moral Sentiments. London: Penguin. Taylor, Charles. 1994. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism, ed. Amy Gutmann, 25–74. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Taylor, Charles. 1989. Sources of the Self. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Authenticity and the Problem of Social Recognition  33 Trilling, Lionel. 1972. Sincerity and Authenticity. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Williams, Bernard. 1981. Moral Luck. In Moral Luck: Philosophical Papers 1973–1980, 20–39. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press.

2 Recognition and the Human Life-Form Towards an Anthropological Turn in Critical Theory Heikki Ikäheimo Is there an ideal for inter-human relations? What I mean is not ideals, but an ideal, or rather the ideal for inter-human relations in general. For many in contemporary social and political philosophy, as well as in the Frankfurt School tradition of critical theory, this way of putting a question may sound strange, if not blatantly absurd. How can we possibly talk of something like “the ideal for inter-human relations in general”? Talking about ideals is talking about ‘the good,’ and that, we have learned, is an issue on which there are many views and no perspective from which to adjudicate between them. The received view in liberal political philosophy after Rawls has been that the state should remain neutral on views of the good, or of ‘the good life’ – and the more critical theorists accommodate themselves to liberal political philosophy, the more they are prone to accepting that critical theory should do the same. What interests me here is whether or not the recognition paradigm in critical theory or critical social philosophy could provide criteria for good social and individual life that stand a chance of applying across cultures, religions, or “comprehensive doctrines.” The most influential representative of the recognition paradigm, Axel Honneth, has shown considerable hesitation on this matter in his work, and his work is in many ways an exemplar of the difficulties involved in pursuing it (see Ikäheimo (2022), Chapter 5). In what follows, I will not focus on Honneth’s work, however, but will first elaborate on certain crucial conceptual issues that we need to be clear about when we think of this theme. I will then sketch a way in which the recognition paradigm just might be able to come up with something with a reasonable claim for universal validity about goodness in human life at both the individual and social levels, levels which recognition theory has taught us to see as closely interrelated. What I want to do is more or less exactly what Honneth declared some time ago was impermissible1 – namely, to link up the expectations of recognition to an “anthropological theory of personhood” (Fraser & Honneth 2003, 138)2 or, as I would rather put it, to an ontology of the lifeform of (human) persons. Whether such an enterprise might be successful can only be seen after a serious try, and it is in the spirit of exploration that I want to resist a priori rejections of the possibility. DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-4

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  35

2.1 The Variability or Invariability of Recognition and Its Importance Let me first address the challenge that any claim of the universal human importance of recognition will be faced with: namely, skepsis that the phenomenon itself – recognition – is something historically and culturally invariant. The simplest linguistic version of this scepticism is based on the humdrum observation that what exactly terms such as ‘love’ or ‘respect’ (and their equivalents in other languages) mean differs from one culture and epoch to the next.3 From this point of view, a claim about, say, the universal importance of love for the development of a positive self-conception seems confused simply because there is no one thing that the term ‘love’ or its equivalents refers to in different times and places. But this linguistic version of scepticism about universal claims on the importance of recognition or of some of its forms is easily defused simply by pointing out that what one is talking about is not whatever this or that word happens to refer to in different languages and in different historical and cultural contexts. What one is rather claiming – rightly or wrongly – to be of universal importance is a particular phenomenon or phenomena, and whatever word is used for it or them is not of crucial importance. It is the phenomena that matter, not the words. This also means that if one is to make any claims about the universal importance of something that one calls ‘recognition,’ ‘love,’ ‘respect,’ and so on, one really needs to describe exactly which phenomenon or phenomena one is talking about and thus in which sense exactly one is using the respective terms. In this regard, it is first necessary to clarify what kind of thing one is talking about when one is talking about recognition. If one is to claim that recognition, or a particular form of it, has some particular sort of importance for human life across cultures or epochs, one needs to specify whether what one is talking about is (a) a particular kind of attitude, (b) a particular complex of attitudes and other psychological states, (c) a particular kind of concrete interpersonal relationship, or (d) a particular institution. Let us use as an example life in the modern Western bourgeois family. The bourgeois family in general is, from one perspective, (d) an institution constituted by norms that are partly written down as laws, partly unwritten but enforced by members of the society. These norms define the deontic powers or rights and duties that come with the respective interlocking roles within the family. Each individual family is, from an institutional point of view, a particular instantiation of the general institution of the bourgeois family, and each woman, man, and child is, as a member of a bourgeois family, a bearer of the role and thus rights and duties of a wife, husband, or child. The institutional perspective, however, only provides a very limited picture of life within a family: the family members are (c) in concrete interpersonal relations with each other, and their institutionalized rights and duties

36  Heikki Ikäheimo with regard to each other and the society are only one element in these relationships among an endless and in principle indefinite multitude of other elements. An obviously central class of elements of a concrete interpersonal relationship between particular family members is the attitudes, emotions, and other psychological states or dispositions that they have with regard to each other. These psychological phenomena form (b) complexes or combinations that can be very complicated. Attitudes of recognition (a) are only one, but quite clearly a central, ingredient in such complexes. If one now asks about the historical or cultural invariability or variability of the role or importance of recognition, or indeed about the invariability or variability of recognition itself, everything depends on which exact level one identifies recognition with. Institutions (d) such as the bourgeois family are of course historically and culturally specific, and though the institutionalized and informal norms regulating sexual relationships and caring for offspring (as well as connected issues such as property and inheritance4) in other cultures and epochs may share important elements with it, they may also differ from it greatly in detail. Hence if one identifies recognition with institutions or institutionalized norms or principles, what it is of course varies from one historical and cultural setting to the next by virtue of the variation of the respective systems of formal and informal rights and duties of women, men, and children forming the minimal reproductive unit. As to (c) concrete interpersonal relations, though every relationship even within the same society and the same epoch differs in many ways from every other relationship, different cultures, societies, and historical epochs have different selections of typical patterns of relationships. Whereas this introduces an amount of uniformity in particular instantiations of the same type of relationship within a society, across cultures and epochs, these patterns naturally vary a great deal. Even if one accepts that this variability is not limitless (due to such universal anthropological facts as the human infant’s helplessness and need for care and attention from adults), identifying recognition with concrete interpersonal relationships or ‘relations of recognition’ implies that it varies a great deal from one society, culture, or epoch to the next. As to (b) complexes of attitudes and other psychological states and dispositions, the typical patterns of concrete interpersonal relationships are partly constituted by the typical attitudinal complexes that individuals within them have towards each other, and both are influenced by innumerable factors – geographic, historical, economic, cultural, religious, educational, and so on – which themselves vary between societies and epochs. Though again the variability is probably not limitless due to a number of relatively unchanging (or at least very slowly changing) facts about human beings and their needs, if one identifies recognition with such psychological complexes, a fair amount of historical and cultural variability is obvious.

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  37 All of this is to say that if one conceives of recognition at the level of institutions, of concrete interpersonal relations, or of attitude complexes, one cannot help but come to the conclusion that recognition itself is not something that remains the same from one cultural and historical context, or one society, to the next. And yet, coming to this almost trivial conclusion can easily conceal the deeper question concerning the possible invariability of (a) attitudes of recognition and their importance. I have elsewhere emphasized, with Arto Laitinen, that if one wants to think clearly about the constellation of phenomena at stake in classic and contemporary texts and debates about ‘recognition,’ what one needs to have in sharp focus are precisely recognitive attitudes (see Ikäheimo & Laitinen 2007). Is there then some unchanging core in attitudes of recognition and something universal, independent of culture, epoch, and particularities of institutional structure, in their importance for humans? And if there is, could this provide a standpoint for immanent social critique that stands a chance of being applicable across cultures? What I will argue next is that due to certain universal constitutive facts about the human life-form, there are three forms or dimensions of recognition each of which are necessary for any human society. After that, I will propose that the decisive factor in the ethical or moral quality of social relations and therefore life with the distinctively human, essentially social form is what I call the mode of purely intersubjective recognition.

2.2 The Constitution of the Human Life-Form and the Role of Intersubjective Recognition in It Let me start by pointing out three universal facts about human beings or the human life-form that are quite clearly independent of culture, epoch, and the institutional details of societies and that are directly relevant to the question of the possible universal importance of attitudes of recognition. Firstly, in contrast to simpler animals, in humans, guidance by instinct has to a very large degree given way to organizing life by shared norms. Secondly, in contrast to simpler animals, humans do not live merely in the present; and in their subjective experience, they do not merely seek immediate satisfaction of given needs and desires. Rather, they are concerned for their future well-being and maximally for their lives as a whole, and hence in principle for everything that may contribute to these positively or negatively. Thirdly, humans are dependent on cooperation, or at least on the actions of many, that contribute to common goals, enabling individual survival and collective reproduction of life. Cooperation or contributive actions among humans are organized by the mentioned shared norms or normative expectations and motivated by future-oriented concerns for life, happiness, or well-being.5

38  Heikki Ikäheimo Evolutionarily speaking, all of these three closely interlocking features that are distinctive of humans have evolved gradually, and thus if one were able to see far enough into the distant past, what one would witness is humans gradually shading into ‘simpler animals.’ From an evolutionary perspective, no distinctive fact about humans is a completely unchanging ‘anthropological constant.’ Yet, the three features clearly apply to all currently existing human societies and cultures, as well as to all past human civilizations that have been able to produce records of themselves. (Without the three features, record-keeping would obviously not be possible.) To distinguish these cultures or civilizations from earlier stages of human evolution, let us specify that we are only focusing on the human life-form insofar as it is ‘more than a merely animal life-form’ or, to put this in other words, that we are interested in the life-form of ‘humans as persons’ or of ‘human persons.’6 Put in these terms, the claim is that the aforementioned three general features or facts apply to all ‘societies of human persons.’ These are more precisely what I mean from now on by ‘human societies’: they are all specifications or particular instantiations of the general life-form of human persons, or in abbreviation of ‘the human life-form,’ distinguished by the three interrelated facts.7 What is then the relevance of these universal facts about human societies for the question of the universal importance of recognitive attitudes for the human life-form? The first observation is that there is a rough correspondence between the three facts and what I have elsewhere called the three dimensions of recognition (see, for example, Ikäheimo 2017): organizing life by shared or social norms with the deontological dimension, concern for life and happiness with the axiological dimension, and cooperation or contributive actions with the cooperative or contributive dimension. Firstly, due to what it takes to organize and govern life with shared norms, some form or mode of deontological recognition in the sense of attribution of authority – i.e. taking the other as having authority – is clearly a necessary constituent of the human life-form and thus of any human society. The idea that norm-guidance is a distinctive constitutive feature of the human life-form has in recent years been forcefully put forth by an influential strand of Hegel-inspired philosophy, which we can call ‘deontological neo-Hegelianism,’ due to its focus on questions of norms, authority, and collective autonomy.8 A central thought here is, to put it very generally, that what distinguishes the Hegelian ‘realm of spirit’ from nature, or in other words what distinguishes the life-form of human persons from a merely animal life-form, is that we persons organize and thereby experience the world structured in terms of collectively authorized and administered norms. These social norms govern all distinctively human activities, including the activity of language-based communication and thinking. Language itself is constituted by semantic norms that determine the correct and incorrect use of words and thus the judgements and

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  39 inferences that involve them,9 and this means that using a language in communication and in linguistically structured thought requires applying those norms. Since the human life-form is organized by social norms, and since there are no other ‘administrators’ of the contents of these norms and no other source of their authority than human beings themselves, humans are collectively speaking self-governing or autonomous beings. But why is recognition a necessary element of the norm-governed structure of the life-form? The reason for this is that humans as persons have to ‘recognize’ each other as sharing authority, or in other words as ‘coauthorities’ of the norms. One is not governed by social norms if one does not take anybody around one as having authority to judge the rightness or wrongness of one’s actions or thoughts. What ‘recognition’ thus means here is primarily the horizontal attribution of authority, or taking others as having authority on the norms of co-existence, of any form of joint activity (linguistic communication being one of them), as well as of any individual action that has effects on others. That norm-governance extends even to the activities of linguistic communication, and thus to thinking insofar as thinking is linguistically structured, means that social norms are very deeply inbuilt into the constitution of individual speakers and thinkers – i.e. of human persons. This also means, on the one hand, that recognizing others as having authority over one is necessary for having a person-making psychological constitution at all. On the other hand, being recognized by others and thus having the status of a co-authority in their eyes is necessary for one’s ability to exercise authority over the norms with them. Accepting these important general ideas of deontological neoHegelianism, recognition as some form or mode of attribution of authority is indeed a necessary and central constituent of the human life-form. Secondly, due to the fact that humans as persons are concerned for their future well-being and also conscious of its dependence on the existence and well-being of at least some other persons, some form or mode of axiological recognition for (at least some) others in the sense of concern for their life and well-being is a necessary constituent of the human life-form, and thus of any human society. There is a long tradition in philosophy of grasping the difference between persons and animals that are not persons in axiological terms of valuing and concern. Starting from Aristotle’s elaborations in the Nicomachean Ethics (Aristotle 2009 [c. 350 B.C.E.]) on humans as non-instrumentally or ‘intrinsically’ interested in their own good life or eudaimonia, through John Locke’s thoughts in his Essay Concerning Human Understanding on the capacity for “happiness and misery” being central to “persons” (Locke 1975 [1689], 2, 27), to Harry Frankfurt’s contemporary distinction of persons from subjects that are not persons in terms of the capacity of the former to distance themselves from immediate or “first-order” motivations or “desires” (Frankfurt 1971), the thought has been that what is essential to humans as persons is a distinctive structure of concerns, self-concerns, and

40  Heikki Ikäheimo evaluations. As I demonstrate elsewhere (Ikäheimo 2022), this is also an aspect of Hegel’s account of the overcoming of a merely animal mode of intentionality – which Hegel (2007 [1830], §§ 426–429) calls in shorthand “desire” – and thus of the coming about of psychological personhood. One only needs to add to this general picture the fact that human individuals are constitutively incapable of securing their future well-being alone, completely without others, and it also becomes clear why the life and adequate well-being of others is necessarily a concern for them: ­caring about my own life implies caring about the lives of those on whom my life depends. Recognition for others as some form or mode of concern for their lives and well-being is a logical consequence of concern for ­self – and thus clearly an essential constituent of the human life-form. Thirdly, due to human persons being dependent on each other, some form or mode of contributive recognition for others in the sense of valuing their contribution to one’s life or well-being is a necessary constituent of the human life-form and thus of any human society. This third thesis is closely related to the second. Securing future well-being requires concrete action and since individual action is inadequate for securing it, what is required is some kind of cooperation or at least actions of many that support and feed into one another. The reason why self-concern leads to concern for the life and well-being of others is simple: one is concerned for the life and well-being of others because one needs their contributions to whatever supports one’s own life and well-being. In other words, axiological recognition as some form or mode of concern for the life and well-being of others follows logically from contributive recognition as the valuing of those others as providers of something that one needs to live or flourish. Hence contributive recognition, or some mode of it, is clearly also a necessary constituent of the human life-form. All in all, it is rather unproblematic to claim that due to the three uncontroversial facts listed earlier, life with the human form, in any society, independently of the details of social organization, necessarily involves the aforementioned three dimensions of recognition or the three kinds of recognitive attitudes: seeing others as having authority over one, being concerned for their life and well-being, and valuing them as (potential or actual) contributors to what one needs or values. What is at issue here are simply different manifestations of the constitutive dependence of humans as persons on each other. We have now, I take it, established that all of the three dimensions of recognition are necessary elements of the ontological constitution of the life-form of human persons. And yet, clearly much more has to be said if we want to comprehend the ethical significance of recognition for the human life-form. This brings us to the important issue of what I call the mode of purely intersubjective recognition.10

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  41

2.3 The Mode of Recognition and the Goodness of Life with the Human Form What I want to do next is to argue that the exact mode of intersubjective recognition is the central determinant of the ethical quality of human relations and thus human life as essentially relational – independently of culture, epoch, and details of institutional structure. Let me approach this question by first taking a short detour through another related but different vocabulary. If one looks for deep moral or ethical intuitions that stand at least a good chance of being found very widely across cultural differences, perhaps universally, intuitions about what it is to be seen and treated ‘as a human being,’ and about its opposites, being treated in ‘inhuman,’ ‘inhumane,’ or ‘dehumanizing’ ways, seem to be very good candidates. They refer to the idea that there is a fundamental difference between the ways in which it is acceptable to regard or treat humans and the ways in which it is acceptable to regard or treat things that are other than human. Human beings are not ‘mere things,’ and thus they ought not to be regarded or treated as mere things, or be ‘thingified’ or ‘reified.’ But though the idea of being treated as a human being, in contrast to its opposites, resonates with widely shared and deeply felt moral or ethical intuitions, it is nevertheless in many ways quite vague as an idea. What exactly does it mean to be ‘regarded and treated as a human being,’ or exactly what kinds of ways of being seen or treated fall under this concept? Is, say, ‘instrumentalizing’ the other in the way a slave owner treats his slave a way of treating the slave as a human being, or is it treating him in the opposite ‘inhuman’ or ‘dehumanizing’ ways? To be able to utilize anything effectively, as a means to an end, one must of course be able to identify it generically as the kind of entity that it is, and qualitatively as having such-and-such features relevant for using it. In this sense, a slave owner must see and treat his slave ‘as a human being.’ But this is clearly not what the ethical or moral idea of being or not being seen and treated as a human being is about. It is not, or at least not merely, about being correctly ‘recognized’ in the epistemic sense of being identified as a human being. What is it about then? A possible strategy at this point is to resort to the idea of rights. Could the morally or ethically relevant sense of being treated ‘as a human being’ thus be about being identified as a human being plus being treated according to some fundamental rights of humans? To put this in recognition terms, could it be about being identified as a human being plus being ‘recognized’ (in the norm-mediated sense explained in note 10) as a bearer of such rights? Indeed, rights may well be part of what intuitions about being seen and treated as a human being are often about; and they are in any case an important framework in terms of which such intuitions have been articulated and institutionalized

42  Heikki Ikäheimo in the Western world; just think of the concepts of ‘human rights,’ ‘human rights violations,’ and ‘crimes against humanity’ (insofar as these are conceived of as violations of human rights).11 And yet, there is clearly more to these intuitions than the idea of rights. Consider an example: B has lost in a terrible accident everyone she loved and all her earthly possessions and is in absolute despair; A closely observes all the details of B’s predicament, treats B according to B’s rights, yet remains emotionally completely unmoved by her suffering. A thus not only identifies B correctly as a human being; he also ‘respects’ B as a rights holder. Despite this, something fundamental is missing, the absence of which seems to make it intuitively fitting to say that there is something ‘inhuman’ or ‘dehumanizing’ about A’s relation to B. The problem – if one agrees there is one – is in A’s lack of purely intersubjective recognition (see again note 16) towards B in the sense of concern for her well-being. Let us now add a further detail to the scenario: not only does A identify B as a human being and treat her according to her (B’s) rights, but A is also emotionally moved by B’s misery. In this scenario, A thus identifies B as a human being, ‘respects’ her as a holder of human and other rights, plus has recognition for her in the sense of concern for her well-being. But imagine that A is only concerned about B’s predicament because of the emotional or other costs that the situation has incurred or may incur on him (A). If A were to realize that there are no such costs, he would return to complete emotional indifference about B’s predicament. Assuming that it still makes sense to describe A’s relation to B as exhibiting ‘inhuman’ coldness towards the latter, or there being something ‘dehumanizing’ in his attitudes towards her, this is not due to A’s lack of concern for B but due to its being merely concern in the conditional mode. Something ethically fundamental is clearly missing if individuals only care about the life or well-being of others conditionally – that is, insofar as the others are necessary or useful for their own life or well-being. Similarly, something ethically fundamental seems to be missing if they only value others as contributors to their own life and well-being conditionally or instrumentally, without the least bit of gratitude towards them (assuming now that the others have acted at least partly unselfishly and thus deserve the unconditional recognitive attitude of gratitude). Finally, something ethically fundamental is clearly missing if individuals see each other as authorities on the norms of co-existence only in the conditional mode: out of fear or prudential calculation, which is to say without genuine intersubjective respect.12 The ethically problematic nature of such cases is easy to see simply by noting that they are even compatible with deliberately harming or killing the other without shame or remorse. If the only sense in which the other has ‘authority’ over one is conditional on her being able to instil fear in one (such as the slave owner upon a slave) or on her having authority being somehow useful to one (such as attributing the slave some

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  43 ‘technical’ authority to interpret the slave owner’s command and put them into practice is for the slave owner), one could seriously harm or even kill the other without feeling any guilt in front of the other once the condition ceases to be present. Her judgements or her will simply make no unconditional or unconditionally motivating claim on one. And if the only sense in which one cares about the other’s life or well-being, or values her contributions, is an instrumental one, then once she ceases to be of use, one feels no sorrow for her if her life goes to ruin. Ethically or morally, the situation is not made any better if such attitudes are mutual or symmetric since this merely means the mutuality of ‘inhuman’ affective coldness. Even if individuals were to actually abstain from harming each other, or even if they were to offer each other help, but were to do so merely because this is what is required of them by relevant rights and duties (and thus norms or laws prescribing these), on the purely intersubjective level their relations would still be characterized by ‘inhuman’ coldness and indifference. I believe it is reasonable to conjecture that a picture of a social relation involving only conditional forms of purely intersubjective recognition – that is, instrumental concern for the other’s well-being, taking her as authority out of fear of prudential calculation, and instrumental valuing of her as a contributor – compatible as these are with harming or even killing the other (without her acceptance13) without shame and witnessing the other’s suffering and death without sorrow for her) – would be intuitively identified widely across cultures, in different historical epochs, and independently of differences in the institutional structures of societies as somehow contrary to what genuinely ‘human’ or ‘humane’ relationships are. To put this in another way: it seems reasonable to assume that there would be widespread agreement that treating someone without the unconditional mode of recognition would not be a genuinely humane treatment of her or a way to treat her as ‘fully human.’ As intuitively appealing as this humanist vocabulary may be, it is theoretically highly undifferentiated and, thus, for practical purposes less than ideally helpful. What I propose to do next is to rationally reconstruct it by means of a differentiated and gradational conception of what it is to be a person. In brief: the ‘inhuman’ or ‘dehumanizing’ nature of a regard of someone without unconditional recognition is better understood in terms of it not being fully ‘personifying.’ I will argue that central ingredients of personhood – the psychological and the intersubjective or social – are constituted by subjects taking each other as persons, or including each other into personhood by means of attitudes of recognition. Furthermore, this only happens fully through unconditional recognitive attitudes. That this is so means that the ethical and the ontological are very closely connected: what makes us psychologically and intersubjectively full-fledged persons is also the fundamental ethical or moral criterion of relations between persons and an immanent ideal of them that is not dependent on

44  Heikki Ikäheimo historically and culturally varying details in the institutional structures of societies. What I am thus proposing here is a standpoint of social critique that is both immanent and potentially universal.

2.4 Full-Fledged Personhood and Recognition There are few concepts in philosophy that are more contested than that of personhood, but I have elsewhere argued for a synoptic concept of personhood that is meant to combine what I take to be the main elements of an intuitively attractive, comprehensive, and theoretically coherent concept of ‘full-fledged’ personhood (see Ikäheimo 2007). If successful, this conception both accommodates central everyday ideas of personhood, often expressed in terms of the vocabulary of ‘humanity,’ and links up with a general ontology of the human life-form, or of the life-form of human persons. On the conception that I have in mind, full-fledged personhood has three layers: 1. psychological, consisting of psychological structures or capacities distinguishing persons from non-persons; 2. social or intersubjective, consisting of a standing or significance in the eyes of the relevant others that distinguishes one as a person for them and thus in interaction with them; 3. institutional or juridical, consisting of a fundamental deontic status or statuses distinguishing persons from non-persons, such as having a right to life or a right to ownership of one’s body.14 Different discourses and theories of personhood focus on different layers of the aforementioned, but here the point is to accommodate them all in a conception of ‘full-fledged personhood.’ The lack or loss of any one of them – of psychological capacities, of significances in light of which others see one, or of one’s status as a rights holder – can be meaningfully described as the lack or loss of some aspect or element of full or fullfledged personhood. Furthermore, corresponding to the three universal facts about the lifeform of human persons, and the three dimensions of recognition connected to them, we can analogically also think of full-fledged personhood as consisting of three dimensions – the deontological, the axiological, and the contributive. These layers and dimensions, and thus the elements of full-fledged personhood, as well as the forms of recognition most directly relevant to each dimension, can be schematically presented according to the following table (Table 2.1). In each dimension, intersubjective recognition is responsive to the corresponding element of the psychological layer of the recognizee’s personhood and simultaneously constitutive of the corresponding element of the intersubjective layer of her personhood.15 Furthermore, norm-mediated

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  45 Table 2.1  Dimensions and layers of full-fledged personhood Full-fledged personhood

Deontological dimension of personhood

Axiological dimension of personhood

Contributive dimension of personhood

Psychological layer of personhood

The capacity for exercising co-authority of norms The significance of co-authority

Capacities for concern and valuing

Capacities and motivation for contributing The significance of a valued contributor

Intersubjective (status-) layer of personhood Institutional (status-) layer of personhood Corresponding form of recognition

Person-making deontic powers (paradigmatically basic rights) On the intersubjective layer: either conditional attribution of authority or respect On the institutional layer: vertical downwards recognition and norm-mediated horizontal recognition

The significance of someone whose wellbeing is important

Either instrumental concern for well-being, or love

Either instrumental valuing, or gratitude

(horizontal) recognition is responsive to the institutional layer of the recognizee’s personhood, or in other words to her person-making deontic powers, and these powers and thus the institutional status they comprise are a creation of a collective of individuals who are persons both psychologically and in intersubjective status (at least in the deontological dimension, as co-authorities of the relevant norms or laws). The exact processes or political forms in which institutions and institutional deontic statuses come about and are maintained in different societies need not concern us here, but generally speaking, someone’s being a person in the institutional status sense is constituted by the status being granted and maintained (‘vertical downwards recognition’) by a relevant instance that has the power to do so, paradigmatically the state. Importantly, the table is as such still neutral with regard to the mode of intersubjective recognition.16 In each of the three dimensions, the mode will specify further the exact intersubjective significance constitutive of the intersubjective layer of personhood. In the deontological dimension of

46  Heikki Ikäheimo personhood, the recognizer sees the recognizee as having authority in the relationship and thus as a ‘co-authority’ with him, but whereas in conditional recognition this means only ‘conditional authority’ (of the kind the slave owner has for his slave or the slave for the slave owner), in unconditional recognition, or respect, this means ‘unconditional authority.’ The latter is something a person with self-respect has in her own eyes: a claim to co-authority that is not conditioned by the authority of others.17 In the axiological dimension of personhood, the recognizer is concerned for the life and well-being of the recognizee, but whereas in conditional recognition her life and well-being have only conditional or instrumental importance for the recognizer, in unconditional recognition, or love, they have intrinsic importance for her. The latter is something one’s own life and well-being have for a person with self-love. Finally, in the contributive dimension, the recognizer values the recognizee as a contributor, but whereas in conditional recognition this means that the recognizee has only instrumental value for the recognizer, in unconditional recognition the recognizer sees the recognizee as someone to whom she owes or who deserves her gratitude. The latter is how a person normally sees herself when she contributes to the life, well-being, or happiness of others freely, motivated by intrinsic concern for their life or well-being – as deserving gratitude. Note that both the conditional and the unconditional modes of recognition involve identifying the other as endowed with person-making psychological capacities or features and thus identifying her generically as a psychological person. Yet the conditional mode can still be meaningfully depicted, and experienced by the recognizee, as demeaning, ‘dehumanizing,’ ‘depersonifying,’ or ‘reifying’ precisely because it does not attribute to the recognizee a fully or genuinely person-making intersubjective significance or status. This is a significance or status that a psychologically flourishing person has in his or her own eyes, or in other words, a significance that the self-attitude constitutive of full-fledged psychological personhood contains. We do not need to stipulate that none of the significances that attitudes of intersubjective recognition in the conditional or not genuinely personifying mode attribute are at all person-making; clearly, however, we should say that they are not fully or not ‘genuinely’ personmaking. This is to say that in each of the three dimensions, an individual will be denied something of full-fledged personhood not only by the relevant others not having the respective kind of intersubjective recognition towards her at all, but also by their having that kind of recognition towards her only in the conditional or not genuinely personifying mode. One of the immediate advantages of this way of thinking is that it opens up a usefully differentiated and fine-grained way of thinking of personification on the one hand and de-personification or reification on the other hand as coming in dimensions and degrees. It is rarely the case that someone is completely de-personified or reified but very often the

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  47 case that someone is de-personified or reified to some extent on one or more dimensions of recognition and personhood. It is the overall degree of personification or de-personification of individuals and groups, and thus the degree of realization of the intersubjective layer of personhood, that I am suggesting is the decisive measure of the ethical or moral quality of societies, institutional structures, social arrangements, interpersonal relationships, and attitude complexes. Another consequence of this model is a certain simplicity with which it explains the unsatisfactoriness of conditional recognition for its objects. The explanation for this is simply the fundamental discrepancy between how a psychologically flourishing person relates to herself and how a recognizer relates to her in conditional recognition. Unlike in Honneth (especially in Fraser and Honneth 2003), this is not a discrepancy between recognition and institutionalized principles or norms which may differ from one society to the next, but rather between recognition and the fundamental moral expectations that persons have with regard to each other simply by virtue of their psychological constitution as persons, or in other words by virtue of the kinds of self-relations that are needed for leading a life as a full-fledged person. Thought of in this way, this discrepancy and its subjective unsatisfactoriness for the recognizee is – in principle – something universally human, and thus provides – in principle – a standpoint for evaluating and immanently criticizing social life in any human society, independently of historical epoch, culture or details of institutional structure. This way of thinking also rehabilitates Johann Gottlieb Fichte’s important idea of the ‘summons’ (Aufforderung), but it does so in terms of a more differentiated view of recognition and personhood than those found in Fichte (see Ikäheimo 2022, Chapter 3). It is the expectations stemming from the aforementioned self-relations constitutive of the psychological layer of personhood that present others with claims or ‘summons’ to affirm the significances that a person has for herself, by seeing her and thus relating to her in light of the same significances. In other words, they present them with ‘claims for recognition’ or ‘summons to recognize,’ to which unconditional or genuinely personifying intersubjective recognition is the expected response and which conditional recognition disappoints.18

2.5 Personifying Recognition and the Personhood of the Recognizer There are many further issues to elaborate on concerning the aforementioned, and I will only briefly touch upon one of them here: the significance of recognition for the recognizer’s personhood. In particular, are there good reasons to think that the mode of recognition is somehow important for the coming about, development, or the constitution of the

48  Heikki Ikäheimo recognizer’s psychological layer of personhood, or in other words of his person-making psychological capacities and structures? Is the propensity for unconditional recognition of others merely an accidental personality feature, or is it essential to what makes one a psychological person? This question can be addressed in terms of the idea of ‘triangulation,’ or intersubjective mediation of the perspective of the recognizer brought about by attitudes of intersubjective recognition, and especially by the unconditional or genuinely personifying mode of those attitudes. Consider this: it is only by having unconditional or ‘genuinely personifying’ attitudes of intersubjective recognition for others that a person genuinely or fully grasps herself as one person among other persons – as one among many irreducible centres of authority, as one among many whose life has unconditional importance, and as one among many free, gratitude-worthy contributors to the world one shares with the others. According to the proposed view part of what it is to be a psychologically full-fledged person is hence to conceive oneself concretely, in a motivationally effective way, as one person among many persons, and this requires relating to others with unconditional intersubjective recognition. All in all, I argue that the unconditional mode of intersubjective recognition is fundamental both for the intersubjective and the psychological layers of full-fledged personhood or for their ideal realization. Arguably, this is but a theoretically more elaborate articulation of what we have in mind when judging ways in which humans regard each other as ‘inhuman,’ ‘inhumane,’ or ‘reifying.’ We can now see more precisely how the ontological and the ethical come together in thinking of recognition as constitutive of the human life-form: the unconditionality of purely intersubjective recognition is an immanent ideal of the life-form in the sense that it is whereby we realize fully, or ideally, what we are – that is, persons. What we have here is thus what I set out to find: a candidate for the ideal of inter-human relations in general and thus for a standpoint for an immanently critical social philosophy that is at least at the outset not bound up with particular cultural, religious, or other world views; or “comprehensive doctrines”; or with “recognition-orders” institutionalized in particular historical circumstances (see Fraser & Honneth 2003, 135ff.). How does the proposed standpoint of a universalist immanent social critique then apply to reality? Take an example: unfettered capitalism. If there is something problematic about capitalism, this must be so based on criteria that do not apply only to capitalism but also can discern good and bad tendencies of the life-form more generally.19 On the proposed approach, capitalism is both ethically and ontologically problematic to the extent that it embodies, encourages, or mandates social relations largely or wholly devoid of unconditional attitudes of purely intersubjective recognition. To the extent that it does so, it is in several ways corrosive of the life-form itself by leading to the decrease of the social trust

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  49 required for collective norm-governance and cooperation and to lessthan-fully unfolded person-making psychological structures – together forming an easily self-perpetuating circle. And yet, the ways in which capitalism does this are merely particular ways of doing it. We know perfectly well that dehumanization – de-personification, that is – is a universal human potentiality and that there are ample examples of it throughout human history and cultures that have nothing to do with capitalism.20

2.6 Conclusion If critical social philosophy or theory is to retain its use value in providing critical insights and emancipatory tools in the post-Eurocentric world, it needs to embark on a search for criteria of good social and individual life that are not methodologically bound up with a particular historical or cultural horizon, or a particular (modern, Western, liberal, capitalist) ‘recognition-order.’ What is needed is a return to the idea of a common humanity, or – to speak in the language of the young Marx – human essence.21 In this chapter, I have tried to convince the reader that there is a way of doing this that is both theoretically coherent and capable of rationally reconstructing everyday intuitions and discourses with deep emotional and thus motivational force – something that is thought to be one of the main advantages of the recognition paradigm in critical social thought – widely across cultural horizons. But how widely? That we can only know by trying out.22

Notes 1 This after criticism from Christoph Zurn (2000) and Nancy Fraser (2003) in particular. 2 My disagreement with Honneth on this particular issue is compatible with my agreement with and theoretical indebtedness to many other aspects of his ground-breaking work. See also Honneth (2021, 148–149) on the disagreement. 3 Notably, ‘love’ [Liebe] is used to translate several ancient words, such as eros, filia, or agape, each of which has a complex history of varying meanings. 4 I thank Onni Hirvonen for helpful comments on this topic. 5 I leave these observations here intentionally as pre-theoretical or humdrum as possible. What I present in what follows is meant to be in broad strokes harmonious with Michael Tomasello’s work (see, e.g., Tomasello 2009) on the distinctiveness of the human life-form, though I hope to be more philosophically precise on a number of details. See also Ikäheimo (2010) for an argument for the evolutionary advantage of what I call the unconditional mode of purely intersubjective recognition. I consider the view I am putting forth here also supported, for example, by Sterelny (2012). 6 Speaking of ‘mere animals’ is not meant to imply any value-judgment but simply to distinguish those animals that are also persons from those that are not and that are thus in this logical sense ‘mere’ animals. I am also not ruling

50  Heikki Ikäheimo out that there could be non-human animals that are persons according to one or the other of the senses of ‘personhood’. 7 On the relationship of ‘humans’ and ‘persons,’ see Quante (2007). On identifying a life-form, see Stekeler-Weithofer (2011, 96–97) and Thompson (2008, 25–82). 8 See Brandom 1994, Pinkard 1994. Robert Pippin is another important author whose approach bears similarities to those of Brandom and Pinkard, yet is not as clearly focused on the deontological dimension alone. Pinkard 2012 can be seen as a broadening of his own previously exclusively deontological perspective. 9 On Brandom’s ‘inferentialist’ semantics, see Wanderer (2008). 10 ‘Purely intersubjective horizontal recognition’ needs to be distinguished from what I call ‘norm-mediated horizontal recognition’. Whereas the latter has the recognizee in focus as a bearer of rights or other deontic powers implied by the prevailing institutionalized or informal social norms, the former abstracts from the recognizee’s deontic powers and roles. 11 On the more problematic uses of the human rights discourse, see Whyte (2019). 12 For more on the difference between the conditional and unconditional mode of purely intersubjective recognition, see Ikäheimo (2017). In short, in each of the three dimensions, the conditional mode is conditional on prudential motives whereas the unconditional mode is not. Hence, there are three conditional attitudes: instrumental concern for someone’s well-being, attribution of authority out of fear or other prudential reasons, and instrumental valuing for contributions. Correspondingly, there are three unconditional attitudes: non-instrumental concern, well-being, or love; unconditional attribution of authority or respect; and non-instrumental appreciation of motivation for contributions or gratitude. 13 I say ‘without her acceptance’ since it is conceivable that, say, a warrior kills another warrior without shame or sorrow, yet without treating the latter in a way that would be conceived of as ‘dehumanizing’ or humiliating him. 14 I am abstracting here from the question of whether ‘moral personhood’ thought of in terms of status that is neither intersubjective nor institutional in my sense should be added as a fourth layer. For considerations for and against, see Ikäheimo’s and Laitinen’s contributions to Ikäheimo, Laitinen, Quante, and Testa (forthcoming). 15 On the different ways in which recognition can be responsive to or constitutive of personhood, see Ikäheimo (2022), Chapter 1. 16 I have presented a similar table in Ikäheimo (2007), yet without accounting for the distinction between the conditional and the unconditional modes of intersubjective recognition which I now take to be central for understanding the exact relation between recognition and personhood. 17 Whether, say, a growing child is actually capable of exercising co-authority in a given issue is something others may judge. But to the extent that she is, her claim to co-authority in matters that concern her is unconditional, unaffected by the judgments of other persons. To see oneself in this way is to have self-respect in the sense relevant here. (This also goes for the criteria of judging a person’s capacity for co-authorship: as the child grows up, the adult loses their exclusive authority to judge what exactly those criteria are.) For an evolutionary anthropological perspective on this theme, see Tomasello (2009, 36). 18 See also Honneth’s discussion of Stanley Cavell’s idea of the “claims” of the other in Honneth (2008, 47–52).

Recognition and the Human Life-Form  51 19 See Ikäheimo (2021) for a rehabilitation of the concept of reification for social critical use. Honneth’s recent attempt of the same (Honneth 2008) was widely criticized by authors inspired by Lukács’ formulation of the concept of reification for lacking a clear focus on capitalism. 20 This is by no means to belittle the crucial role of capitalism in contemporary reality, also with regard to the devastation of the biosphere. It is merely saying that the measure is independent of the measured: capitalism is bad not because it is capitalism but because of its effects, whether in terms of interhuman reification and hence devastation of the social world or in terms of devastation of the natural world, or both. 21 On the Aristotelian/Hegelian version of evaluative essentialism implicit in this text, see Gleeson and Ikäheimo (2020). 22 A longer and more thorough version of this text can be found in the final chapter of Ikäheimo (2022). The book also contains immanent critiques of other positions and shows the need for spelling out the position presented here, aspects of which are already implicitly present in those other positions.

References Aristotle. 2009 [c. 350 B.C.E.]. Nicomachean Ethics. Trans. D. Ross. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Brandom, Robert. 1994. Making It Explicit: Reasoning, Representing, and Discursive Commitment. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP. Frankfurt, Harry. 1971. Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person. The Journal of Philosophy 68(1): 5–20. Fraser, Nancy & Honneth, Axel. 2003. Redistribution or Recognition? A PoliticalPhilosophical Exchange. London: Verso Press. Gleeson, Loughlin & Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2020. Hegelian Perfectionism and Freedom. In Perfektionismus der Autonomie, eds. Douglas Moggach, Nadime Mooren & Michael Quante, 163–182. Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink Verlag. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 2007 [1830]. Philosophy of Mind. Trans. W. Wallace & A. V. Miller. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2008. Reification: A New Look at an Old Idea. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2021. Recognition: A Chapter in the History of European Ideas. Trans. Joseph Ganalh. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2007. Recognizing Persons. Journal of Consciousness Studies 14(5–6): 224–247. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2010. Is ‘Recognition’ in the Sense of Intrinsic Motivational Altruism Necessary for Pre-linguistic Communicative Pointing? In ASCS09: Proceedings of the Australasian Society for Cognitive Science, eds. Wayne Christensen, Elizabeth Schier & John Sutton. Sydney: Macquarie Centre for Cognitive Science. http://www.maccs.mq.edu.au/news/conferences/2009/ ASCS2009/html/ikaheimo.html Accessed December 12, 2021. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2017. Recognition, Identity and Subjectivity. In Palgrave Handbook for Critical Theory, ed. Michael Thompson, 567–585. New York: Palgrave. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2021. Return to Reification—An Attempt at Systematization. In Recognition and Ambivalence: Judith Butler, Axel Honneth, and Beyond,

52  Heikki Ikäheimo eds. Heikki Ikäheimo, Kristina Lepold & Titus Stahl, 191–222. New York: Columbia University Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki (2022). Recognition and the Human Life-Form—Beyond Identity and Difference. London and New York: Routledge. Ikäheimo, Heikki & Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Analysing Recognition: Identification, Acknowledgement and Recognitive Attitudes between Persons. In Recognition and Power, eds. Bert van den Brink & David Owen, 33–56. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki, Arto Laitinen, Michael Quante & Italo Testa (forthcoming). The Social Ontology of Personhood. Locke, John. 1975 [1689]. An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pinkard, Terry. 1994. Hegel’s Phenomenology: The Sociality of Reason. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pinkard, Terry. 2012. Hegel’s Naturalism: Mind, Nature, and the Final Ends of Life. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Quante, Michael. 2007. The Social Nature of Personal Identity. In Dimensions of Personhood, eds. Heikki Ikäheimo & Arto Laitinen, 56–76. Exeter: Imprint Academic. Stekeler-Weithofer, Pirmin. 2011. Intuition, Understanding, and the Human Form of Life. In Recognition and Social Ontology, eds. Heikki Ikäheimo & Arto Laitinen, 85–113. Leiden: Brill. Sterelny, Kim. 2012. The Evolved Apprentice—How Evolution Made Humans Unique. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Thompson, Michael. 2008. Life and Action: Elementary Structures of Practice and Practical Thought. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Tomasello, Michael. 2009. Why We Cooperate. Boston: The MIT Press. Wanderer, Jeremy. 2008. Robert Brandom. Durham: Acumen. Whyte, Jessica. 2019. The Morals of the Market—Human Rights and the Rise of Neoliberalism. New York: Verso. Zurn, Christopher. 2000. Anthropology and Normativity: A Critique of Axel Honneth’s ‘Formal Conception of Ethical Life’. Philosophy & Social Criticism 26(1): 115–124.

3 Mutual Recognition and Well-Being What Is It for Relational Selves to Thrive? Arto Laitinen

Love is important for the quality of human life. Not only do everyday experiences and analyses of pop culture and world literature attest to this; scientific research does as well.1 How exactly does love contribute to well-being?2 This chapter discusses the suggestion that it not only matters for the experiential quality of life, or for successful agency, but also that it actualizes our nature as “relational selves” (Chen et al. 2011). I defend a hybrid or pluralist theory, which sees humans not only as subjects of experiences, or agents, or valuers, but also as relational selves. Expanding from love to other interpersonal relations, thriving relations of mutual recognition (love, respect, esteem, trust) contribute directly and non-reductively to our flourishing as relational selves. The chapter will start by putting forward the proposal (Section 3.1), and then discussing it in relation to important alternatives. The focus is on alternatives which hold that love, and other forms of mutual recognition, are important for well-being, but only indirectly. One kind of challenge against the constitutive role of relations to others for well-being comes from the traditional theories that accommodate relations in some indirect ways (Section 3.2). A second kind of challenge admits that perhaps love is central to well-being in a direct way, but do we have reason to believe that other forms of mutual recognition are as well (Section 3.3)? Yet another kind of challenge is that love matters for quality of life in some other way than contributing to its prudential value: love is good, but is it good for us (Section 3.4)? A fourth kind of challenge concerns what we are, and the nature of “essentialism” involved in the approach stressing relational selfhood: cannot, say, motherhood contribute to one’s good life even if motherhood is contingent and not essential (Section 3.5)? In debates on recognition, the idea that mutual recognition is also relevant for well-being has been put forward, for example, in Axel Honneth’s (1992, ch. 9) “formal” theory of good life. Whatever else constitutes a good life, relations of recognition form its backbone (cf. Ikäheimo 2014).3 Surprisingly little however is written about mutual recognition and DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-5

54  Arto Laitinen well-being in detail or recognition in comparison to traditional theories of well-being. This chapter aims to fill some of that void and at the same time defend the view that well-being is one of the normative notions with which mutual recognition has a constitutive relationship.

3.1 The Thesis: Relations of Mutual Recognition Constitute the Thriving of Relational Selves The three traditional theories of well-being arguably each thematize a different aspect of well-being, and we learn something important from each of the theories (Fletcher 2016; Crisp 2017). Hedonism teaches us that the experiential quality of life matters, as we are subjects of experiences, whereas desire-satisfaction theory teaches us that the successful pursuit of aims matters, as we are also agents. Objectivist (or ‘objective list’) theories teach us that it is first and foremost pursuit of worthwhile aims that matters and worthy, non-illusory experiences that matter. None of them alone captures all of well-being, however. Illusory experiences are a problem for views like hedonism for which only experiential quality matters: I may feel good because I think I am loved and respected but in fact am not (Kagan 2009, 311–312; cf. Nozick 1974). Arguably it is better to be loved and respected than merely think that one is, at least if one wants to be loved. The other two views can account for why illusory and non-illusory experiences differ, but they seem to allow that alienated pursuits that the agent dislikes or does not enjoy make for an equally good life as pursuits that the agent enjoys. Many have rightly concluded that a hybrid or pluralist theory combining several aspects is needed.4 On the one hand, objective list theories help draw qualitative differences in the value of subjective experiences and pursuits. On the other hand, the focus on our experiences and pursuits helps to distinguish the prudential goodness of a life (for the agent or subject) from the objective goodness of a life in some more impersonal way. The novel contribution proposed in this chapter is that the best hybrid or pluralist theory will cover the relational aspect of well-being as a further aspect on its own, irreducible to other aspects: to activities, to experiences, or to objectively good features instantiated in our lives. The key idea is that not only loving, respecting, and recognizing but also being loved, respected, and recognized – that is, being the recipient of recognition from others – contribute directly to the quality of our lives, as we are social beings. And yet, getting recognition is not a matter of one’s own agency – rather it is something that one undergoes, receives, suffers, or gets: one is a patient rather than an agent (see Ricœur 1992, ch. 10). Being recognized and recognizing others are aspects of equal standing in relations of mutual recognition. Loving and being loved are the paradigm examples, but other forms include esteeming and being esteemed, being respected and respecting, and being trusted and trusting. In those

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  55 relationships, both parties both give and get recognition from each other, and it is the passive aspect that has escaped the attention of philosophers. These relationships are intimately tied to our experiences, but the histories and structures of such relationships are not reducible to mere experiences. And finally, being in a valuable relationship oneself explains why it enriches one’s own life, while also being impersonally and objectively a good thing in the universe (for anyone to promote).5 All friendships and good, loving relationships may well be valuable things that even those who are not parties to them have reasons to advance, but the ones in which I am a partner have a more intimate connection to the quality of my life, whereas the other relationships enrich the universe and, of course, the lives of the others in question. This theory of well-being conceptualizes the nature of human agents not merely as intentional agents, or subjects of experience, or as valuers and bearers of values but also as relational selves. The central thesis of this article is that love and other relations of mutual recognition actualize our natures as relational selves. In contrast, existing theories of well-being tend to slide from acknowledging the importance of relationships to accommodating them merely qua feelings, or qua activities, or as preconditions or facilitators of feelings and activities, etc. These theories tend to be ‘atomistic,’ ‘monadic,’ or ‘non-relational’ and end up endorsing a reduced view of the importance of mutual recognition (love, esteem, respect, trust). An appeal to our natures as relational selves enables a non-reductive appreciation of these relationships: thriving relations of mutual recognition directly enrich our lives as relational selves and thereby are directly good for us. Relations of mutual recognition constitute the thriving of relational selves.

3.2 Theories of Good Life Standing in relationships of love, being loved and loving in return, is commonly considered to be central to how well one’s life goes.6 The same can be true of standing in relationships of mutual esteem, mutual trust, and mutual respect, and other possible forms of mutual recognition, and we will examine these later in this chapter, but let us first use mutual love as a paradigm case of mutual recognition. 3.2.1 Hedonism and the Experiential Quality of Life Standing in relationships of love is experientially deep, and while it comes with a mix of positive and negative situation-specific feelings, it is mainly experienced as something positive overall. In this, it is opposed to relationships of mutual contempt or hatred or one-sided envy, which are experienced as negative, while occasionally giving rise to positive situation-specific emotions. One kind of contribution that being loved and

56  Arto Laitinen loving makes to one’s life is thus via its experiential quality. I will preserve the term happiness for the experiential, felt quality of life, but I do not assume that it is all there is to good life. Hedonism about well-being and good life is the view that experiential, felt quality of life is the sole determinant of what it is for a life to go well for oneself (Parfit 1984; Feldman 2004; Crisp 2006). It comes with its well-known pros and cons, but if one for independent reasons supports hedonism, one can account for the role of love in good life by an appeal to the way in which love contributes to the felt quality of life. Hedonism is a very controversial theory, however, and one can accept that love tends to contribute to the felt quality of life without accepting hedonism (Crisp 2017; Shafer-Landau 2017). The first of the three main problems that I discuss here concerns classical hedonism as a sum of pleasures and pains. That view is not rich enough. A richer view would turn from a sum of atomic hedonic experiences (pleasure and pain) to a richer view of happiness. What constitutes happiness is the experiential quality of life on the whole, including the sense of meaning, the sense of being loved, and the appreciation of higher pleasures: poetry, not pushpin (see Mill 1863; Kauppinen 2013). The second problem is in the reductive nature of hedonism. It focuses on the subjective sense of achievement, not achievement itself; on a subjective sense of meaning, not meaningfulness of life itself; and on the felt aspects of relationships, not relationships themselves. This raises the question of whether non-experiential aspects of life might also matter. Further, one may ask, do illusory and unfitting experiences really constitute good life? This worry is expressed in Nozick’s (1974) famous thought experiment of an experience machine in the question of whether drugged sensations are as good as undrugged and whether illusory or immoral pleasures count with the same weight as non-illusory and appropriate experiences.7 Even though few defend orthodox hedonism, defenders of hybrid or pluralist theories especially can take on board a central lesson: felt happiness is the intrinsic good of our lives as subjects of experience.8 3.2.2 Desire-Satisfaction Theories and Valuing The lesson from Nozick’s experience machine thought experiment is that what really matters is that my aims are satisfied, not merely that I illusorily think they are satisfied. Compare, for example, winning Wimbledon versus it merely seeming to oneself that one has won. Appreciating this difference has led to desire-satisfaction theories of well-being (Nozick 1974, 42–45; Parfit 1984; Heathwood 2006). Many people want to be loved, and love itself may come with some desires, such as desire that things go well for the loved ones, desire to spend time with them, desire to share the intimate aspects of one’s life with them.9 Love is thus closely connected to our deepest desires and

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  57 aims, and to the fulfilment of desires and goals. This is another kind of contribution that loving and being loved makes to our lives. Desire- or goal-satisfaction theories of good life hold that desire or goal satisfaction is the sole determinant of what it is for a life to go well for oneself. This view comes with its well-known pros and cons as well, but if one for independent reasons supports the goal-satisfaction theory, one can account for the role of love in good life by an appeal to the way in which love contributes to the satisfaction of one’s goals. Again, three major concerns with this view can be mentioned. First of all, it ignores qualitative distinctions between aims. Some aims are more valuable and meaningful than others. In Charles Taylor’s words, we are not mere “simple weighers of alternatives” but “strong evaluators” (Taylor 1985a; Laitinen 2008a). So perhaps what matters to our well-being is not success in one’s aims indeterminately but success in the valuable, worthwhile activities in one’s life (Raz 2004). That point reinforces the importance of objective distinctions in value, which “objective list theories” emphasize. A second worry concerns felt alienation from the aims that one nonetheless pursues (e.g. thanks to social pressures). So perhaps what matters is not merely success in (worthwhile) aims but, more precisely, success in wholeheartedly pursued (worthwhile) activities in one’s life (Raz 2004). This point reinforces the importance of the experiential aspect of our lives, which hedonism has pioneered in stressing. Further, should action-desires (aims) be distinguished from non-action-desires (Mele 2003, 18 and passim)? We have aims and intentions that guide our own actions, but we also have desires and wishes about, for example, world peace or biodiversity, which are beyond our individual control. Perhaps then there are two distinct ways of how satisfaction of desires may contribute to good life. The former is captured by the standard aim-satisfaction theory, while the latter may point to the importance of what we care about or value (Watson 1975; Taylor 1985a, 15–44; Frankfurt 1988). Thus, there are two possible lessons for hybrid theories of well-being: the more straightforward one is that we are agents, and so success in (worthwhile, wholehearted) activities is constitutive of good life (e.g. Raz 2004). The aim-satisfaction theories seem to capture and focus on one’s good life as an agent (cf. Kauppinen 2012, 372).10 The second point is less standard. That is the point that we are evaluators or “carers” in the broad sense of being concerned or caring about issues, while not necessarily caregivers in a narrow sense (Taylor 1985a; Frankfurt 1988, 2004.). That raises the question of whether the satisfaction of one’s (worthy) non-agentive concerns and desires directly constitutes one’s well-being and, indeed, whether anything else does. Harry Frankfurt’s (1988, 2004) polemical thesis is that one’s fate is tied to what one cares about – one is first and foremost a carer. My life goes well when those (valuable) things prosper that I care about. Love or care, on this view, is a tie that links me to other things in my life.

58  Arto Laitinen If I desire world peace, and there is war, does the non-satisfaction of my desire directly lower the quality of my life (independently of its felt quality or even knowledge about it)? Analogously, if I deeply care about someone, and their life goes badly, does it adversely affect my life (independently of whether I know about that and independently of how I feel – which is already captured by the experiential quality of my life)? Or if I am being cheated on by my partner, unbeknownst to me, does it affect my life? Possibly the answer to all of the above is affirmative. The suggestion can then be made that if the world satisfies (and does not frustrate) one’s central non-agential evaluative concerns, this directly constitutes one’s intrinsically good life as a carer: when such and such is making progress, it makes sense to say that things are going well, and looking bright, for someone who cares about such and such.11 Thus a hybrid theory, which distinguishes between being an agent and being a carer, can build both these aspects to a theory of well-being. Alternatively, this aspect of caring can be reduced to the experiential and agential (and relational, see the following) aspects of life, in which case worldly satisfaction of central concerns figure in the quality of one’s life only when they figure in one’s agential aims or make one happy. My agential aims and non-agential concerns (say, my finding a cure for cancer) can in principle be realized without me knowing (and one may want to add a constraint that they do affect one’s well-being unless there is suitable epistemic access to them). Some worldly facts can then constitute or facilitate my well-being because they satisfy my agential aims or non-agential desires, etc.12 Despite acknowledging the reality principle in this way, this is still a subjectivist view: what matters for my well-being is up to my subjective desires or aims. By contrast, the ‘objective list’ theories start from non-subjective starting points. 3.2.3 Objective List Theories The third standard group of theories of well-being or good life is formed by objectivistic theories, which focus on what is desirable, rather than what is desired.13 If anything is valuable or desirable, arguably love is; it is among the less controversial candidates. So one way in which love can contribute to one’s good life is that the presence of love in one’s life is a paradigm case of there directly being something good, something of value, something desirable in one’s life. The so-called objective list theories also come with their well-known pros and cons, but they can account for the direct contribution that love makes to one’s life going well by pointing to the intrinsic, objective desirability of love as a final, noninstrumental value. One main question is that even if one accepts that there are objectively good, desirable things whose value is not contingent on them being desired, should we not distinguish between one’s life being good in the

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  59 impersonal sense of containing a lot of value and being good for oneself prudentially? One appealing strategy is to say that the ‘life-goods’ that make a life good are worth pursuing in themselves, but that good life is good over and above that, both ‘for me’ and as such.14 We will look at that more closely in Subsection 3.3.4. Another question to the classical objective list theory – i.e. holding that life is good if it contains intrinsically good things – is whether that is sufficient. What if one feels alienated and cannot enjoy the presence of these as such worthwhile things? It may be that a hybrid theory is needed that sees both as necessary: having any old worthwhile things take place in one’s life is not sufficient (say, that social equality is increased because one does not get a place at a university but someone from an underrepresented group does, and one does not happen to care about social equality), but only worthwhile pleasures and success in worthwhile activities and satisfaction of worthwhile concerns are constitutive of well-being. Are there any other ways in which objective worthwhileness contributes to one’s life? Do intrinsically good things in life feature in one’s life only as experiences, as pursuit of activities, or as objects of non-agential concern?15 Instantiating valuable, praiseworthy features (such as a virtuous character) or possessing capabilities seem to go beyond these – do they contribute to good life? On most views, capabilities (including health and need-satisfaction) seem to be merely preconditions, not constituents of good life.16 However, a certain type of perfectionist essentialism can hold that developing capabilities and acquiring skills are in themselves valuable (they are not mere preconditions to their valuable exercise). The developed capabilities can be seen as achievements, as actualizing human potentials that humans are objectively ‘meant’ to actualize, given their nature (say, learning to walk upright and to speak some language). There may be a problem with the status expressed by the phrase ‘meant to actualize’: what exactly is being stated here? Presumably, the claim is that certain capabilities are constitutive of the very form of life of that animal or agent, and therefore possessing and perfecting those capabilities is central to the good life of members of that species.17 Virtues are another candidate.18 Aristotle (2000 [c. 350 B.C.E.]) held that virtues are worth pursuing both for their own sake and because of their contribution to eudaimonia or good life. That is, while virtues are good in themselves and worth pursuing, they also contribute to the goodness of one’s life. Section 3.5 will address the worry that this may however not be prudential goodness of life but may be for example moral goodness. 3.2.4 Hybrid Theories of Good Life Previously, we encountered hybrid theories as attempts to combine the best parts of all theories while escaping their downsides or one-sidedness.

60  Arto Laitinen Joseph Raz (2004) has put forward a theory where good life consists of (a) wholehearted and (b) successful (c) pursuit of (d) worthwhile aims. It is an attempt to combine three of the best-known theories in ways already outlined earlier. In addition to these, possibly (e) valued (and worthwhile) worldly events and (f) having further good things (such as capabilities and virtues) in one’s life constitute well-being. Importantly for our topic, love and other mutual relationships can be relevant to several of these, but the thesis of this article suggests that relationships may constitute a separate, irreducible layer that directly partly constitutes our well-being or good life. Adding a further aspect to a hybrid theory is conceptually easier, as the theory’s basic nature as a hybrid theory remains the same. One way to defend a pluralist, or hybrid, theory is by appealing to the plural aspects of human existence: only a pluralist hybrid theory can remain true to the different central human aspects. The hedonist appeal to the experiential quality of life and Raz’s appeal to wholeheartedness reflect the fact that we are subjects of experience. Desire-satisfaction theories and Raz’s appeal to successful pursuits reflect the fact that we are also agents. Kauppinen (2012, 372) has defended such a dual view of good life, appealing to both of these. But arguably there are further aspects to our existence: as previously discussed, we are also valuers, and our fates as valuers are tied to how well things go for the things we care about. The wager in this chapter is to extend this further to our nature as relational selves: taking part in good relationships, as givers and receivers, amounts to our thriving as relational selves. Whatever other indirect mechanisms there are via which relationships contribute to the quality of our lives (as agents, subjects of experience, or valuers), the suggestion is that standing in (successful, worthwhile, wholehearted) relationships is what it is to be a (successful, admirable, wholehearted) relational self. By contrast, objective worthwhileness does not constitute a separate dimension, but it poses the demand that in any of the dimensions, objectively worthwhile features make a (greater) contribution to the quality of one’s life.

3.3 The Importance of Relationships 3.3.1 Do Relationships Reduce to Activities? Do relationships reduce to activities? Often, an imperceptible slide takes place in the literature. For example, what is first discussed as “goals and relationships” is soon understood as “activities” by Joseph Raz (2004, 269, 274). Theories stressing agency stress the active aspect (me doing my share) in relationships, but what about the passive aspect that is in the hands of others? Cannot it also directly constitute well-being? Cannot being loved be relevant and not merely loving? Similarly, Kauppinen (2012, 2013) defends a dual theory where pursuit of valuable aims (as agents) and happiness (as passive subjects of

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  61 experience) matter. He also slides from “activities and relationships” to efforts, and to a pursuit of objectively valuable activities and projects: It borders on the trivial to say that for most of us the deepest satisfaction we have felt in our lives is associated with meaningful activities and relationships. Conversely, in our darkest hours life seems pointless or shallow and our best efforts seem to lead nowhere. (Kauppinen 2013, 161) The Teleological View of Meaningfulness: S’s life is meaningful to the degree it is defined by identity-shaping engagement in challenging projects that build on the past in successful pursuit of something objectively valuable. (Kauppinen 2013, 168) Because it takes two to have a relationship, and because both are active and passive, it makes sense to drive a wedge between relationships and activities. My activities are in a sense only one side of the coin of one half of the relationship (alongside your activities and each of our passive episodes). Joseph Raz (1999, ch. 1) defends the view that we are ourselves when we are active, but that view seems to be based on focusing only on carefully selected cases where that may well be the case.19 Further, in compulsive behaviour or in some mental disorders, when we experience having alien thoughts in our mind, it may well be the case that passivity and alienness go together. But if one’s paradigm examples are relationships, it becomes more obvious that we are ourselves also as recipients and not merely agents. Relationships may add to the meaning or quality of our lives and be very central to ourselves – far from being alien.20 3.3.2 The Highest Good as Relational Selves: Relationships The view put forward here is that just as successful pursuits in worthwhile ends are our highest good as agents, and happiness our highest good as subjects of experience, there is something else that constitutes our highest good as relational selves: relationships of love, mutual esteem, mutual respect, and mutual trust. Here, theories of recognition will be relevant: relationships of mutual recognition do not reduce to experiences, activities, and concerns. Mutual recognition is constitutive of our lives qua relational selves: being loved, being esteemed, and being respected can be directly constitutive of good human life, over and above the instrumental effects on our health, capabilities, or agency, and over and above contributing to our happiness and success as agents and carers. We are not only agents; we are also patients, and we are relational selves in ways that combine activity and passivity.21

62  Arto Laitinen By contrast, loving, holding in esteem, and respecting others can perhaps be reduced to other aspects, and there is no reason to double count their significance for well-being unless they have a double significance. But arguably, they do have double significance. As activities, they are on a par with the pursuit of other worthwhile aims. But as relationshipconstituting activities, they contribute to a subclass of their own. They matter not merely as activities but also as aspects of relationships: they contribute to a good life in two ways. Here the same move is available, as previously discussed in the context of capabilities. The constitutive role of these can be given an essentialist or perfectionist backing: human persons ‘are meant to,’ by their nature, stand in these relations of recognition.22 Whatever else happens in human life, one irreducible aspect of (self-)evaluation can concern thriving in relationships when one is wondering how well one’s life is going for oneself. 3.3.3 Does This Generalize from Love to Esteem, Respect, and Trust? One possible objection is that all that is fine concerning love, but what about other forms of mutual recognition. Do they have a similar place in theories of well-being? The most important point is that once relationships pose no conceptual or constitutive challenges to theories of well-being, no major theoretical challenges come with either including or excluding other forms of mutual recognition: they can be had at the same theoretical cost as it were. It is a substantive question whether, on reflection and after careful research, they are also found to be important for the quality of life. No doubt, in pop culture, there are fewer songs about mutual respect, esteem, or trust (or self-respect, self-esteem, or self-confidence that go with them), but the hypothesis is credible that they also are irreducibly relevant for well-being. Given the importance of mutual respect, and the importance of distinguishing relationships of esteem from both love and respect, and of distinguishing forward-looking trust from backward-looking esteem, there is a prima facie case for claiming that these forms of mutual recognition play structurally similar roles for well-being as that played by mutual love.23 3.3.4 What about Vertical Relationships? Recognition can encompass not only horizontal or interpersonal relations but also vertical, institutional relations.24 An additional aspect of ‘relational selfhood’ comes with belonging to larger communities. It consists of belonging, being included, taking part in communal life, and being recognized by social, institutional, or political groups as a member in

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  63 good standing – for example, a citizen.25 If we are social and political animals, having this aspect integrated into one’s life is to live a fuller human life (Taylor 1985b; Smith 2002). Citizenship may have instrumental value to health, capabilities, or virtue; it may enable worthwhile pursuit of activities or rich experiential life – but is it directly constitutive of well-being or good life? It is directly constitutive of social freedom (Honneth) or one’s standing as a co-authority (Ikäheimo) perhaps, but what about well-being? Again, the hypothesis poses no conceptual hurdles for a hybrid theory incorporating our nature as relational selves, so it can be left for substantive debate. Nothing in principle prevents vertical relationships from entering the picture, but when the debate is had, there may be reasons for and against having vertical relationships directly constitute one’s wellbeing. This chapter rests content with showing that there is conceptual room for it and that the hypothesis is meaningful. 3.3.5 Summing Up One way to sum up the hybrid theory of well-being towards which this chapter is moving is to see it as having several aspects: (1) As subjects of experience, the central prudentially good thing of human beings consists in the experiential quality of life – that is (nonillusory, worthy), happiness. (2a) As agents, our thriving consists of successful and wholehearted pursuit of worthwhile goals. And (2b) as carers or valuers, our flourishing is tied to the world satisfying our (worthy) non-agential concerns and valuations. There may possibly be (3a) other objectively valuable features in our lives – e.g. possessing capabilities that as such realize our potentials, or possessing virtues or other valuable features. The central phenomenon that the hybrid theory can accommodate (3b) concerns our flourishing as relational selves: the horizontal relationships of mutual love, esteem, respect, trust, or mutual recognition for short. And possibly (3c) relationships of vertical, institutional, or communal standing add to our flourishing as relational selves and social and political animals.

3.4 Prudential Goodness Let us now turn to a challenge: that even though love and other forms of mutual recognition are valuable, their goodness is not prudential goodness; they are perhaps good things in themselves, but not good for us (Moore 1994). A standard pattern of the history of ethics holds that in ancient theories, ethics and morality were conceived of as lessons in how to live well. Good life, eudaimonia, was the aim of ethical instruction,

64  Arto Laitinen and so moral goodness was automatically also prudential goodness. Over time, a tension has been more and more apparent between what is good for me, prudentially, and what is good for others or good impartially or morally. By the time of Sidgwick (1907), it made sense to defend a strict dualism of incomparable points of view: what is good for me is one thing, and what is good or right morally or impartially is another thing altogether. Let us take a closer look at prudential goodness to assess whether love and mutual recognition, in general, could credibly be a direct constituent of it, as the thesis of this chapter states. 3.4.1 Prudentially Good Lives versus Good Lives in Other Ways In contemporary debates on well-being, something being good for me ‘prudentially’ has been cashed out as being good for me. The most popular method for clarifying the topic of well-being is to highlight a range of associated terms and phrases. Well-being is often discussed under the heading of welfare, self-interest, one’s interests, one’s advantage, one’s good, prudential value, quality of life, flourishing, or the good life. Things that make a positive contribution to your level of well-being are things that are good for you, benefit you, have prudential value for you, and make you better off. Things that have a negative impact on your well-being are bad for you, harm you, have prudential disvalue for you, and make you worse off. Your wellbeing is a matter of how well you are doing, how well things are going for you, or how well your life is going for you. It is what you attend to when asking yourself “What’s in it for me?” (Campbell 2016, 401) G. H. von Wright (1963) distinguishes helpfully between “one’s good” (one’s well-being, good life) and what causally contributes to one’s good (i.e. what is beneficial for or ‘good for’ someone). Eating wholesome food is good for you in that it contributes to your health, and being in good health enables you to act successfully and feel good, and these in turn may constitute your ‘good’ (and the different substantial theories debate about what exactly is it that constitutes your good: hedonic states, success in one’s aims, desirable features, etc.).26 What is good for me must be distinguished from what is good simpliciter: what is desirable and what makes the world better. Two people can agree that biodiversity is good in itself, and disagree on whether it is (prudentially) good for me, or for anyone for that matter. It is fully consistent to think that other things equal, a more biodiverse world is better (it ranks higher in terms of a genuine valuable feature), even when it is not better for any individual’s well-being. But it is also fully consistent (albeit more reductive) to think that the only thing that matters is

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  65 individuals’ well-being, but to the extent a more biodiverse world facilitates or partly constitutes individuals’ well-being, it has indirect significance. If we non-reductively allow that there are various goods other than individuals’ well-being, we can end up with a view that these goods constitute several classes. In that case, we can think of individual human lives as instantiating several of these goods. Stephen M. Campbell (2016) writes that a prudentially good life can be distinguished from other types of ‘good lives’ such as an impersonally good life: a life that directly or indirectly contributes much good simpliciter to the world; a morally good life: a life that exemplifies moral virtue and behavior; a spiritually good life: a life in accordance with a religious ideal or in which one achieves deep connection with a spiritual reality; an aesthetically good life: a life of artistic achievement or aesthetic appreciation; a perfectionistically good life: a life in which one successfully develops or perfects one’s nature; an admirable life: a life in which one merits admiration; a choiceworthy life: a life that is worth choosing or aiming to have. (Campbell 2016, 403) Rival theories will disagree on whether some of these are reducible to some others, and how the different categories are related: for example, admirable lives might be ones which are impersonally good lives thanks to the agent’s virtuous efforts, and morally good lives might always be admirable lives and so on. The question that this chapter is pursuing is not merely whether relationships of mutual recognition can make the lives in question better but also whether they make them prudentially better. This can be done in two steps: first by delineating what a life rich in ‘recognitional goods’ would be (so that whatever counts as well-being, there is the recognitional way of assessing a life) (5.2) and, second, whether that could count as an aspect of well-being (5.3). 3.4.2 Recognitional Goods The goods inherent in relations of mutual recognition could be introduced as ‘recognitional goods’ to be added to the list of kinds of goods. One way to approach them would be to say that loving, esteeming, trusting, and respecting are appropriate responses to loveworthy, esteem-worthy, trustworthy, and respect-worthy features that persons instantiate. Those features would be ‘recognitionally significant features,’ which do make recognition fitting but are not in themselves yet recognitional goods. By contrast, the appropriate responses by others (love, respect,

66  Arto Laitinen trust, esteem) can be conceived as recognitional goods proper. The distribution of such recognitional goods can be approached as a question of recognitional justice (Walzer 1983; Laitinen 2014). These goods can figure in one’s life in two ways: when A respects B, this figures in the life of B qua B ‘being respected’ and in the life of A qua A ‘respecting.’ It is natural to see B as receiving a ‘good,’ but it is equally natural to think of A as engaging in a valuable activity. That there is a valuable relationship between A and B figures in both the lives of A and B but also in the world more broadly. That there is, say, a friendship between A and B can be impersonally good: it can be a valuable thing that everyone has reasons to promote. But for A and B the value is different – and they have reasons to express the relationship in their conduct; the relationship reshapes their normative situations (Scanlon 1998). So, we can distinguish lives that are rich in terms of goods of relationships: a person with loving relationships with their near and dear, with generally good relationships of mutual esteem unhindered by low selfesteem or by bad fortune, and good relationships of mutual respect is leading a rich or full life in terms of relationships of mutual recognition. That person’s life is a rich or a full life relation-wise, just like some other peoples’ lives may be rich in the categories distinguished by Campbell (impersonally, morally, aesthetically, etc.), and yet there may be differences in how good these people’s lives are for them, prudentially. 3.4.3 How Does the Proposed View Fare as a Theory of Well-Being? So should we distinguish, after all, the goodness of someone’s life prudentially from the goodness of their lives as relational selves? Hedonists certainly would say so and argue that the prudential goodness of one’s life is to be cashed out in terms of its experiential qualities (and so love and other relationships would figure as experiences or as preconditions of experiences), desire-satisfaction theorists would also say so and argue that the prudential goodness of one’s life is to be cashed out in success in the pursuit of one’s central aims (which may include the ‘agential’ aspects of relationships but not directly the aspect of receiving: being loved, esteemed, and respected). The objective list -theorists would accommodate the value of relationships alongside other valuable features (ranging from beauty to capabilities and virtues), but they face a challenge: even if we admit in a hybrid way worthwhileness and desirability as a necessary features of experiences and aims if those are to count as contributing to well-being, are there any reasons to think that the other ways of instantiating value in one’s life (e.g. beauty, capabilities, virtue, or relationships of mutual recognition) are prudentially good, good for me, or a matter of my thriving, as opposed to good in a more impersonal, moral, or recognitional manner that I just happen to instantiate? What’s in it for me?

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  67 And here, the appeal to relational selfhood becomes relevant. Just as happiness is the highest good of us as subjects of experience, and success in the pursuit of worthwhile goals is the highest good of us as intentional agents, thriving or flourishing as relational selves takes the form of rich relations of love, esteem, trust, and respect – that is, relationships of mutual recognition.27 Thus, the relational features (me-in-a-relationship) are equally aspects of me as me-as-an-agent or me-as-a-subject-of-experiences. This suggestion has a perfectionist undertone: we are social animals, or social beings, or relational selves, the fulfilment of whose nature requires horizontal relationships of love, esteem, and respect and possibly vertical, political relationships as well. These fulfilments or actualizations can come in degrees, and so our lives can go better or worse from the viewpoint of our nature as relational selves or social beings.

3.5 Are We Essentially Relational Selves? The final challenge that we can briefly take up tackles precisely that assumption: should we have essentialist-perfectionist readings of these aspects of ourselves? On at least one metaphysical reading of ‘essential,’ if we are essentially something, we cease to exist when we lose that feature. If a human person can cease to be a student, and yet remain in existence, then that person is not essentially a student. Also, someone can remain the same person after becoming a mother. Being a mother can be central (and so ‘essential’ in an evaluative sense) for someone and yet not provide conditions for numerical identity. Is it not hopeless to think that human beings are essentially not only agents and subjects of experience but also relational selves because a human being can live as a hermit or have a condition which prevents flourishing as a relational self while not preventing agency or subjecthood? And is it not unnecessary and irrelevant anyway because as the example of motherhood shows, something can be central to one’s happiness and well-being, and thus ‘essential’ in an evaluative sense without being essential in the metaphysical sense? To answer these questions, one may first note that humans can also stay alive in a vegetative state, where they are not subjects of experience, or their agency can be paralyzed in a state where it may be hard for others to know whether the person remains a sentient subject of experience. So a similar challenge concerns the aspects of agency and subjecthood, not merely relational selfhood. Thus, if it turns out that we are essentially living organisms, but not agents, subjects, or relational selves, then the aforementioned ‘irrelevance point’ can come in handy: metaphysical essentialism can be separated from evaluative essentialism or significance for well-being. But, further, the counter-examples do not suffice to show that subjectivity, agency, or recognitive relationships are not metaphysically essential. They can be inescapable dimensions in human existence, and one can

68  Arto Laitinen realize them more or less fully. Even the hermit is a relational self and has the intentional intersubjective structures at play – it is just that no one else is plugged in, and the hermit is, as it were, permanently ‘between relationships.’28

3.6 Conclusion This chapter has defended the view that love is important for human lives not only indirectly via its contributions to our experiences or successful pursuits but also directly. Love and other forms of mutual recognition are directly constitutive of the well-being or flourishing of those who stand in such relationships. That such relationships are not merely valuable aspects of the universe but also good for us can be appreciated by focusing on our nature as not merely agents, subjects, or valuers, or as relational selves.

Notes 1 See, e.g., Smuts (2017), who includes loving relationships among the objectively good things in life. See also Mortensen (2017), for whom an ability to sustain optimal human relations is a standard against which the good life can be measured, or Layard (2011), who finds family relationships, community, and friends among the seven causes that affect our happiness the most. For the view that quality ties to others are relevant to eudaimonia, see, e.g., Ryff (1989); Ryff and Singer (2008). See Haybron (2008), Tiberius (2008), and Alexandrova (2017) for philosophical issues in contemporary psychological research on happiness, and see Wolf (2017), Helm (2017), and Gregoratto (2021) on the philosophy of love. Allardt’s (1993) distinction between loving, having, and being has had a great significance in welfare research in social policy in the Nordic countries. 2 I use ‘well-being’ and ‘good life’ interchangeably as capturing prudential value or personal good or what is (non-instrumentally) beneficial for me or what it is for my life to go well for me. Section 3.5 addresses the question of whether there is a plurality of concepts at play here that are not interchangeable (see Kagan 1994, 2009; Campbell 2016). 3 Since J. G. Fichte (1796) and G. W. F. Hegel (1807, 1821) conceived of ‘Anerkennung’ between subjects as essential to what makes human animals into free and rational beings or persons (see Siep 1979; Wildt 1982; Williams 1992, 1997; Ikäheimo 2007, 2014), and since Charles Taylor’s The Politics of Recognition (1992) and Axel Honneth’s The Struggle for Recognition (1992, translated 1995), recognition has been claimed to be central for the existence of not only persons but also groups and institutions, and central not only for their existence but also for their central valuable qualities and aims, such as self-realization, dignity, integrity, autonomy, freedom, solidarity and justice. See Fraser and Honneth (2003); Honneth (2007); Ikäheimo (2002); Laitinen (2002, 2010, 2015); Ikäheimo and Laitinen (2007a); (eds.) (2007b), Kojève (1980); van den Brink and Owen (eds.) (2007), Schmid am Busch and Zurn (eds.) (2010), Schmidt am Busch (2011); Ikäheimo and Laitinen (eds.) (2011), Laitinen and Pessi (eds.) (2015), Lysaker and Jakobsen (eds.) (2015); Young 1990 and Zurn 2015. I have touched upon the relevance of recognition to good life in Laitinen (2003).

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  69 4 See Woodard (2019). For a representative hybrid theory, see Kagan (2009) or Raz (2004) and Laitinen (2008b) for discussion of the latter. 5 Those who stand in the relationship express the relationship in their actions, and they acknowledge reasons for action that are constitutive of the relationship. See Scanlon (1998), 147–188. 6 It has long been taken as established that humans thrive on social connectedness (see, e.g., Baumeister & Leary 1995) and languish in its absence, and a recent study (Oravecz et al. 2020) focuses especially on experiences of being loved. The extensive longitudinal Grant study (from 1938 over 75 years) focused on the lives of 268 white Harvard-educated men, and the conclusion was popularized by the lead researcher as “Happiness is Love. Full stop” (Vaillant 2012; Stossel 2013). The role of social relationships as the most central factor in subjective well-being has also been criticized as a “myth” (Lucas & Dyrenforth 2008), although the authors admit that it is important. Feminists and radical theorists are rightfully concerned about how the voices of the dominated are heard in the accounts of the importance of love or social relationships in good life and uncritical “amatonormativity” (e.g. Brake 2012; Gregoratto 2018). Indeed, there is blindness to structures of domination in Valliant’s comment that in the Grant study, “The homogeneity was wonderful for the study of more biologic aspects of human beings” (Canadian Broadcasting Corporation 2009). That the Harvard-educated group shares the same elite position does not remove the effects of that elite position and that the effects of biology plus position may vary with positions should go without saying. 7 Nozick (1974), 42–45; Mill (1863); Crisp (2017); for the drugged experience case, I thank Antti Kilpijärvi. 8 Kauppinen (2012, 372). “We are both active agents and passive subjects of experience. Meaningfulness, I claim, is the final good of agents, and happiness the good of experiencers.” 9 On love and desires, see Helm (2017). 10 Alienated or worthless goals do not necessarily contribute even to this aspect of well-being. Thus experiential quality may play a double role: it is itself an aspect of good life (as subjects of experience), and it may be a necessary feature in agential good life. (Cf. Heathwood 2006 who argues that the best versions of desire-satisfactionism and hedonism coincide.) 11 Again, an objectivist proviso can be added: to the extent that the loved thing is worth loving. Cf. Hurka (2003) on the view that loving what is intrinsically good is intrinsically good. 12 Can worldly facts then be constitutive aspects of my life? What sort of things, ontologically, can constitute ‘my life’? On this view, it is the desiring and pursuing that is part of my life, and the facts merely function in the role of a ‘realizer of a desire.’ Cf. Kagan (1994) on the distinction between me and my life. 13 Parfit (1984). E.g. Griffin (1986) and Finnis (2011) defend different objective lists. 14 On life-goods, see Taylor (1989) and Laitinen (2008a). 15 A closely related notion is that of meaningfulness (Wolf 2010; Kauppinen 2016). A further way, then, in which love might contribute to good life is via making life meaningful. It is again a commonly held view, for good reason no doubt, that loving relationships are at the core of meaningful life. Aristotle (2000 [c. 350 B.C.E.]) famously asked what all the world’s riches would be worth without friends. The debate on the relationship between meaningful life and good life is not yet very mature; Raz (2010) has pointed out that

70  Arto Laitinen Wolf’s definition of meaning in life is more or less the same as Raz’s (2004) definition of good life, combining subjective elements, worthwhileness, and success, but Raz holds that success might be less relevant for meaningfulness. 16 On capabilities, see Nussbaum (2011); on being alive as a mere precondition, see Raz (2004). 17 Cf. Finnis (2011), Nussbaum and Sen (eds.) (1993). One option is to make a conceptual distinction between well-being of a person (as a particular entity) and the goodness of the life (as a process), along the lines of Kagan (1994), and hold that well-being consists in having the capabilities, in having one’s needs satisfied, and being in good condition, whereas good life then consists in the functionings and actualizations of the capabilities. 18 They, too, are features of a person rather than that person’s life. 19 Raz (2004, 274) distinguishes cases in which a person is passive (being photographed in secret; passing out drunk and keeping a fire-door shut) from cases in which a person is active (making art of a photographic self-portrait, saving lives intentionally by keeping a fire door shut), and explains, She is active in the episodes of the second list, while passive in those of the first. That difference explains why neither episode in the first list can be good for her, whereas those in the second list can be. Episodes in which we are passive, as well as ones in which we do not feature at all, can be good for us only indirectly, through their contribution to another valuable aspect of our activities. Only active episodes can be directly good for us. 20 See Paul Ricœur (1992, ch. 10) on how selfhood, otherness, activity, and passivity can be related. 21 This is also a case of being connected to something larger than one’s own life. A dyadic interpersonal relationship, membership in a larger community or a political state, having a place in a tradition or history, feeling at home in the universe are all forms of belonging. There are many ways to account for how these relationships contribute to one’s good life, basically via the conceptual distinction between something being good for me, good for you, and good for us. 22 Cf. Ikäheimo (2011) on the kind of normative essentialism at stake. 23 Esteem is a backward-looking and trust is a forward-looking attitude covering the same field. One can be esteemed for a job well done, and one can be trusted with a job, expecting it will be done well. 24 Cf. Siep, Ikäheimo (2014), cf. Ricœur (1992) on the ethical aim of living a good life with and for others, under just institutions. 25 Cf. Hegel’s (1991 [1821], §153): “When a father asked him for advice about the best way of educating his son in ethical matters, a Pythagorean replied: ‘Make him the citizen of a state with good laws.’ (This saying has also been attributed to others.)”. 26 One must of course further distinguish what is good ‘according to me’ (what I value as it were) and what is good ‘for me, for my life, for me as the beneficiary’ (what benefits me). 27 The same perfectionist strategy could be applied to ourselves as valuers, as possessors of capabilities (which already can count as actualizing personhood, as opposed to the particular functionings, which go on to constitute one’s particular identity), and as socio-political animals whose nature is to be members of socio-political communities characterized by vertical relations of recognition. 28 See Ikäheimo (2011) for gradual realizations. Or in another metaphor, one can measure the value in some dimension (say, loudness of sounds), but the value can be zero: it does not show that the dimension is not there.

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  71

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Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  73 Laitinen, Arto. 2008a. Strong Evaluation without Moral Sources: On Charles Taylor’s Philosophical Anthropology and Ethics. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter. Laitinen, Arto. 2008b. Joseph Raz ja hyvinvoinnin ulottuvuudet. In Sosiaalialan normatiivinen perusta, eds. Petteri Niemi & Tuija Kotiranta, 34–70. Helsinki: Gaudeamus. Laitinen, Arto. 2010. On the Scope of Recognition: The Role of Adequate Regard and Mutuality. In The Philosophy of Recognition: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives, eds. Hans-Christoph Schmidt am Busch & Christopher F. Zurn, 319–342. Lanham: Lexington Books. Laitinen, Arto. 2014. Walzer on Recognition as a Dominated Good. In Sisäisyys ja suunnistautuminen: Juhlakirja Jussi Kotkavirralle, eds. Arto Laitinen, Jussi Saarinen, Heikki Ikäheimo, Petteri Niemi & Pessi Lyyra, 586–621. Jyväskylä: SoPhi. 125. Laitinen, Arto. 2015. From Recognition to Solidarity: Universal Respect, Mutual Support, and Social Unity. In Solidarity: Theory and Practice, eds. Arto Laitinen & Anne Birgitta Pessi, 126–154. Lanham: Lexington Books. Laitinen, Arto & Pessi, Anne Birgitta (eds.). 2015. Solidarity – Theory and Practice. Lanham: Lexington Books. Lysaker, Odin & Jakobsen, Jonas (eds.). 2015. Recognition and Freedom: Axel Honneth’s Political Thought. Leiden: Brill. Layard, Richard. 2011. Happiness: Lessons from a New Science. London: Penguin. Lucas, Richard E., Dyrenforth, Portia S. & Diener, Ed. 2008. Four Myths about Subjective Well-Being. Social and Personality Psychology Compass 2(5): 2001–2015. Mele, Al. 2003. Motivation and Agency. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mill, J. S. 1998 [1863]. Utilitarianism. Ed. Roger Crisp. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Moore, G. E. 1994. Principia Ethica. Ed. Thomas Baldwin. Second edition (first edition 1903). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mortensen, C. David. 2017. Optimal Human Relations: The Search for a Good Life. London: Routledge. Nozick, Robert. 1974. Anarchy, State, and Utopia. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Nussbaum, Martha & Sen, Amartya (eds.). 1993. The Quality of Life. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Nussbaum, Martha. 2011. Creating Capabilities: The Human Development Approach. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Oravecz, Zita, Dirsmith, Jessica, Heshmati, Saeideh, Vandekerckhove, Joachim & Brick, Timothy R. 2020. Psychological Well-Being and Personality Traits Are Associated with Experiencing Love in Everyday Life. Personality and Individual Differences 153: 1–9. Parfit, Derek. 1984. Reasons and Persons. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Raz, Joseph. 1999. Engaging Reason – On the Theory of Action and Value. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Raz, Joseph. 2004. The Role of Well-Being. Philosophical Perspectives 18: 269–294. Raz, Joseph. 2010. Susan Wolf on the Meaning of Life: A Review. Ethics 121(1): 232–236.

74  Arto Laitinen Ricœur, Paul. 1992. Oneself as Another. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Ryff, Carol. 1989. Happiness Is Everything, Or Is It? Explorations on the Meaning of Psychological Well-Being. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 57(6): 1069–1081. Ryff, Carol D. & Singer, Burton H. 2008. Know Thyself and Become What You Are: A Eudaimonic Approach to Psychological Well-Being. Journal of Happiness Studies 9(1): 13–39. Scanlon, Thomas. 1998. What We Owe to Each Other. Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press. Schmidt am Busch, Hans-Christoph. 2011. “Anerkennung” als Prinzip der kritischen Theorie. Berlin and Boston, MA: de Gruyter. Schmidt am Busch, Hans-Christoph & Zurn, Christopher F. (eds.). 2010. The Philosophy of Recognition: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives. Lanham: Lexington Books. Shafer-Landau, Russ. 2017. The Fundamentals of Ethics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sidgwick, Henry. 1907. The Methods of Ethics. Seventh edition (first edition 1874). London: Macmillan. Siep, Ludwig. 2014. Anerkennung als Prinzip der praktischen Philosophie: Untersuchungen zu Hegels Jenaer Philosophie des Geistes. Revised edition (first edition 1979). Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag. Smith, Nicholas. 2002. Charles Taylor: Meaning, Morals and Modernity. Cambridge: Polity. Smuts, Aaron. 2017. Welfare, Meaning, and Worth. New York: Routledge. Stossel, Scott. 2013. What Makes Us Happy, Revisited: A New Look at the Famous Harvard Study of What Makes People Thrive. The Atlantic, May 2013. https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2013/05/thanks-mom/309287/ Accessed online September 26, 2021. Tiberius, Valerie. 2008. The Reflective Life. New York: Oxford University Press. Taylor, Charles. 1985a. Human Agency and Language: Philosophical Papers vol. 1. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, Charles. 1985b. Philosophy and Human Sciences: Philosophical Papers vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, Charles. 1989. Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, Charles. 1992. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism – Examining the Politics of Recognition, ed. Amy Guttman, 25–73. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Vaillant, George E. 2012. Triumphs of Experience: The Men of the Harvard Grant Study. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Walzer, Michael. 1983. Spheres of Justice: A Defence of Pluralism and Equality. New York: Basic Books. Watson, Gary. 1975. Free Agency. Journal of Philosophy 72: 205–220. Wildt, Andreas. 1982. Autonomie und Anerkennung Hegels Moralitätskritik im Lichte seiner Fichte-Rezeption. Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta. Williams, Robert. 1992. Recognition: Fichte and Hegel on the Other. Albany: State University of New York Press. Williams, Robert. 1997. Hegel’s Ethics of Recognition. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Mutual Recognition and Well-Being  75 Wolf, Susan. 2010. The Meaning of Life and Why It Matters. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Wolf, Susan. 2017. Love: The Basic Questions. In The Oxford Handbook of Philosophy of Love, eds. Christopher Grau & Aaron Smuts. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://doi.org/10.1093/oxfordhb/9780199395729.013.2. Woodard, Christopher. 2019. Hybrid Theories of Well-Being. In International Encyclopedia of Ethics, ed. Hugh LaFollette. Oxford: Blackwell. https://doi. org/10.1002/9781444367072.wbiee894. von Wright, Georg Henrik. 1963. Varieties of Goodness. London: Routledge. Young, Iris Marion. 1990. Justice and the Politics of Difference. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Zurn, Christopher. 2015. Axel Honneth. Cambridge: Polity.

4 Recognition Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect Antje Gimmler

At the beginning of the novel Anton Reiser by Karl Philipp Moritz (first edition 1785/1790, quotations from 1997), the author says about the young boy Anton Reiser, “Whence could his ardent longing for affectionate treatment have arisen, since he had never been used to it and could therefore hardly have conceived it?”(Moritz 1997, 10). The enlightenment novelist and psychologist Moritz points to the fact that even if they lack the experience of trusted, reliable, and amiable relations with significant others, a child still bears a certain, although rather vague, expectation of being treated in a different, more sympathetic way. What Moritz expresses in this quotation has been philosophically conceptualized as the quasi-innate desire of human beings for sociability and recognition. On this note, the novel Anton Reiser could be read as a vivid illustration of one of the main points presented by Axel Honneth in his theory of recognition, i.e. that recognition is a human need, and if this is denied, serious damage will be done to the individual. In his recent book on the history of ideas of the concept of recognition, Honneth (2018) claims that recognition is the signature concept for the understanding of human relations, morality, and justice in modernity. As Honneth (2018, 20–23) points out, the concept of recognition (and its equivalents in different languages) has been understood differently in different intellectual cultures (resp. Germany, France, and Great Britain). He argues, however, that recognition may nevertheless be conceptualized as the core principle of modern societies. It is the merit of the concept of recognition that it makes sense of the deep intertwinement of the individual’s moral and epistemic capacities with the individual’s practical self-relation and the intersubjective relations in which the individual is involved. Furthermore, the concept of recognition is also on a structural level, the signature of a fair and just ordered society and political body. I sympathize with Honneth’s claim of recognition as a core principle of modern social philosophy to the extent that I assume that recognition is an appropriate normative term that provides criteria for the justification of the structure and practice of certain human relations and interactions, as well as for institutional settings in modern societies. However, I would also DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-6

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  77 emphasize that the concept of recognition entails an important practical dimension. As is also pointed out by Arto Laitinen, “recognition has something of the nature of making” (Laitinen 2002, 475). Recognition must be enacted and performed, with bodily expressions and with linguistic utterances, as well as in the form of the institutional setting of a society. However, this practical dimension sits not all too well within Honneth’s theory, although his original intention is to switch from a formal theory of justice to a more substantial and anthropological oriented theory of the good life. From my perspective, the recognition theory in Honneth’s version lacks, with a few exceptions, this dimension of showing and displaying concrete human practice. The same goes for the even more recent turn Honneth takes towards a foundational and ontological understanding of recognition. My remarks on this ontological understanding of recognition will be of very preliminary character. In what follows I will use the novel Anton Reiser as an explorative tool to look into different practical dimensions of the concept of recognition, thus focusing on the relation between intersubjectivity and the self, i.e. its practical self-relation in the form of self-confidence, self-respect, and selfesteem. In the first part, I shall concentrate on the presentation of Honneth’s theory of recognition, emphasizing the dual perspective of recognition theory, i.e. oriented towards anthropology and normativity. I presuppose that Honneth’s theory is well-known and well-discussed, and therefore my presentation will be quite brief.1 In the second part, I shall discuss Honneth’s concept in relation to intersubjectivity, self-confidence, and self-esteem. As we know, Honneth takes part of his inspiration from the early Hegel and his Jena writings when conceptualizing recognition as mutual and symmetrical. However, in the Phenomenology of Spirit, Hegel introduces a new relation beyond the intersubjective relation. It is the relation the ‘slave’ maintains to products in the form of labour. With reference to the sociologist Richard Sennett and his concept of respect, I shall argue that externalization is an important dimension for a fuller understanding of the practical self-relation that the individual maintains and which I argue is underrated in Honneth’s theory. I shall then move on to demonstrate in the last part how using recognition theory for understanding human relations and identity building helps us understand that individuals’ self-confidence and self-esteem can derive from different sources. I will use the German eighteenth-century novel Anton Reiser, which is a kind of negative ‘Bildungsroman,’ to come closer to an understanding of the dimensions that are at stake when ‘doing recognition.’

4.1 Recognition: Anthropological and Normative Perspectives With his theory of recognition, Honneth combines social and moral theories with a formal anthropological theory that allows for analyzing and explaining social reality with a normatively justified principle. From

78  Antje Gimmler Honneth’s perspective, recognition theory is a timely and consequent renewal of the normative spirit of critical theory. According to Honneth, the concept of recognition enables diagnosis and criticism of so-called social pathologies. In this respect, the close link between normative theory and social reality is decisive (see Cooke 2000). This linkage of normative theory and social reality relies upon the reconstruction of real experiences of neglect and disrespect, as well as of the demand for recognition brought forward by individuals and groups. Those experiences and demands direct the social philosopher towards a normative ideal of social relations and moral self-understanding. This normative idea leads to the conceptualization of conditions for successful self-realization and in turn allows us to criticize societies for their social pathologies. With this theory construction of the concept of recognition, Honneth claims that empirical explanatory power and the normative foundation of social theories are mutually dependent: starting with the experience of neglect and disrespect that can be empirically identified at different layers of social relations, it is possible to idealize those expectations that would govern undistorted social relations and the self-realization of human beings. In this conceptualization, the identification of the moral grammar that constitutes the infrastructure of the social life-world rests upon real experiences of neglect, disrespect, or being treated unequally. As outlined by Honneth, “the recognition-theoretical turn” (Honneth 2003, 134) enables the critical philosopher to detect the “trace of an intramundane transcendence in the social culture of everyday life” (Honneth 1999, 323). Thus, in continuity with the tradition of critical theory, Honneth aims to reconstruct social reality in terms of the idealization of inherent claims. As he says with reference to Hegel, “[W]e should generalize our knowledge of the social preconditions of personal identityformation into a concept that has the character of a theory of egalitarian ethical life (Sittlichkeit)” (Honneth 2003, 177). The argument Honneth uses takes the form of a weak transcendental argument that allows us to identify the conditions that enable a ‘good life’ – the Aristotelian ideal of a fulfilled life in a society governed by recognition. The transcendental argument underpins the legitimate expectations of individuals and defines conditions that “to the best of our knowledge” (Honneth 2003, 177) are necessary conditions for a good life and a just society. Which types of violations of recognition count and could constitute an empirical starting point? This topic has been extensively discussed between Honneth and Nancy Fraser (Fraser & Honneth 2003). While Fraser seems to favour the politics of identity and specific social movements as an empirical background, Honneth pursues a more anthropological approach and wants to avoid what he calls the “short circuit between social movement and social discontent” (Honneth 2003, 128). In his writings that follow the initial theory of recognition (Honneth

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  79 1995), recognition is not only treated as a core concept of practical philosophy but also, in so far as it ‘precedes cognition,’ both ontogenetically and categorically, recognition is conceptualized as a primordial principle of being-in-the-world as such (Honneth 2008, 2018). In short, recognition becomes an ontological concept. Whether this turn, which I would call a foundational approach to recognition, is fruitful, justifiable, and viable is not within the scope of this chapter to decide. The path taken by Honneth (e.g. 2008), however, is clearly not one that leads to a more practical and pragmatic-oriented social theory of recognition. Rather, he is aiming at a comprehensive and general philosophical theory of cognition and recognition that might have the consequence of a more limited capacity of explanatory power if applied to empirical social situations compared to the original approach to recognition. Seen from an anthropological perspective, for Honneth – as for other recognition theorists such as Charles Taylor (1992) – recognition is a fundamental human need. As an anthropological principle, recognition is also deeply entrenched within the psychological development of identity and the social relations that constitute the context for individuation. Of the three spheres of recognition, i.e. the sphere of intimacy, the sphere of law, and the sphere of solidarity, mainly the first and third spheres are good candidates for conceptualizing anthropological conditions because in these two spheres, recognition of the direct interaction between human beings is visible and decisive. The sphere of law deals with the fundamental principle of autonomy and freedom, and here human relations that are prone to disrespect are also relevant. However, autonomy and freedom as part of the individual’s self-understanding are embedded in an institutionally mediated form and would therefore need a different approach to analysis. The first realm of recognition is the fundamental sphere of becoming an individual and thereby developing self-confidence, while in the third sphere, the individual is recognized for her contributions and capacities as a member of a group. In order to conceptualize the first sphere and to support his claim that mutual recognition is a necessary prerequisite for becoming a person, Honneth (2003) refers to psychoanalytic and psychological developmental theories (e.g. Donald Winnicott, Daniel Stern, Jessica Benjamin). In an ontologically fundamental sense, what is at stake in this intimate sphere is a human being’s capacity to relate to others with confidence and trust. It is also the sphere in which the individual gains a positive practical self-relation, e.g. the ability to cope with reality and emotions such as frustration or anger. With respect to individuation, self-confidence only develops if a child’s needs and feelings are recognized. Although the infant is deeply dependent upon the significant other, the relationship between child and significant other is determined to transcend this dependency. Therefore, it must be a relationship of mutual recognition. In psychoanalytical terms, it may be stated that the strength of the ego is achieved only in reciprocal

80  Antje Gimmler relations of recognition. Later in life, friendship and love relationships are based on the same principle of recognition, this time between adults. The emotional ties involved in such intimate human relations are based upon the normative expectation of being recognized, not for a particular character trait or for strategic or other selfish motivations, but simply for one person’s intrinsic value to the other. Lack of mutual recognition in the intimate sphere causes impaired identity, personality disorders, and a lack of self-confidence. This type of impairment has consequences, not only for how an individual is able to execute their life plans or even to project their needs towards future realization but also for how an individual uses the other spheres of recognition. This lack of competence will become visible in the story of the boy Anton Reiser. Theorists of social work have shown how to use the notion of recognition productively because here the lack of recognition allows a link between a client’s personality and socialization to an actual social problem (Juul 2009). Lack of recognition in the third sphere, the sphere of solidarity, means disregard for a person’s values, capacities, and personal identity. As pointed out by Honneth (2007) with reference to Ernst Tugendhat’s ethics (Tugendhat 1993), such acts of disrespect range from minor insults of not being greeted to the severe issue of being stigmatized for entertaining a certain lifestyle or for simply being different. Honneth refers to the politics of ‘cultural recognition,’ for instance the recognition of “the women’s movement and ethnic and sexual minorities” (Honneth 2003, 117). However, he is not overly sympathetic to identifying the third sphere exclusively with so-called identity politics. He criticizes identity politics for reducing other and maybe more pressing forms of social suffering, such as class differences or suffering caused by dysfunctional policies. In a more general way, the third sphere deals with the kind of respect we owe each other as valuable members of societies as such (see Honneth 2003, 120ff.). More specifically, for Honneth, the achievement principle governs this sphere, and this makes it particularly difficult to understand why he calls this sphere a sphere of solidarity, particularly if we take into account the fact that this sphere is historically and categorically insolubly connected to the capitalist market and its hierarchies. Although Honneth rightly claims that the achievement principle has replaced the older feudal social ranking of honour and prestige, it is far from clear whether forms of recognition in the bourgeois-capitalist society are per se correcting for the inequalities produced by the principle of achievement itself. In his attempt to “interpret bourgeois-capitalist society as an institutionalized recognition order” (Honneth 2003, 138), Honneth underrates the consequences of the fact that the principle of achievement is both a liberation from old hierarchies and a means to systematically establish new hierarchies. One could object that groups that follow the liberating principle of achievement will demand recognition for their achievements

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  81 and thereby rightly point to the fact that what counts as an achievement is debatable. Achievement is always socially valued and part of the struggle for recognition. However, every evaluation of achievements will necessarily lead to a form of hierarchical order, be it honour or rank as in feudal societies or class and prestige as in modern societies. It should be clear that the result of recognition on the basis of achievement cannot be egalitarianism but the recognition of differences. Thus, a fully realized order of equal social recognition becomes a utopian ideal. Honneth’s (2018, 44ff.) critique of Rousseau takes up this topic. From Honneth’s point of view, he sees Rousseau’s recognition only through the lenses of enhancing a person’s prestige in society, thus feeding the person’s amour propre. Honneth argues that Rousseau is not seeing the equalizing effects of recognition. However, one could also turn this around and argue that Honneth is overlooking the fact that the achievement principle is situated within the specific context of the capitalist market and therefore is unable to execute the function Honneth describes. We will see in the second part of this chapter that, similar to Rousseau, the sociologist Richard Sennett has his doubts about achievement in the light of others as a positive governing principle for social recognition. Another issue is the conceptual problem encountered by Honneth when combining a normative ideal with an empirical foundation. In both cases, i.e. recognition in the first sphere of intimacy and in the third sphere of solidarity, we are confronted with a form of argument in which a normative principle is connected with empirical observations and studies. We might ask, How does Honneth arrive at the claim for recognition? What type of experience constitutes the foundation of this claim? This problem has been captured by what Zurn has called a “generality/ concretion dilemma” (Zurn 2005, 105). We might reformulate the dilemma as follows: either the theory is situated at a high level of generality and consequently argues in favour of recognition as the implicit norm for all social relations, or the theory is sufficiently concrete for the identification of specific experiences and social movements that are said to realize or give birth to the normative concept of recognition. If the theory is overly general and abstract, it tends to be empirically empty. In the case of Honneth’s recognition theory, various types of real experiences might support the thesis of recognition as the normative core of modern Western societies. Then types of experiences that are actually counterintuitive for a theory of recognition, e.g. fascist groups with an outspoken exclusion of certain other groups as subjects of recognition, might qualify as legitimate recognition seekers. An analysis of society based on these premises would be hopelessly fuzzy. However, if the theory is sufficiently concrete, the empirical evidence might not support the speculative claim: it could even contradict the theory. Reality is messy, and the question of which experience could be considered as a starting point includes a variety of cultural biases.

82  Antje Gimmler Structurally, this also applies to the claim that recognition is an anthropological principle. Love as a general feeling might be a universal phenomenon, and the relation between mother and child that is governed by recognition might be a universal anthropological principle. However, when Honneth points to “the emergence of the ‘bourgeois’ love-marriage” (Honneth 2003, 139) as an example of the institutionalization of the principle of love, sociologists and anthropologists tend to be more sceptical (e.g. Illouz 2012). For them, this short circuit between the asserted universality of an emotion and its realization in a particular historical outlook seems hopelessly naïve. In the case of recognition for achievement as an anthropological principle, Honneth encounters the problem that the same principle is responsible for both liberation and repression. The bourgeois-capitalist market recognizes achievements and is able to integrate struggles for recognition of different types of achievements and lifestyles (see Boltanski and Chiapello 2005); nevertheless, the bourgeois-capitalist market is constantly generating new inequalities. In my view, Honneth reacts to these problems by situating recognition in his more recent works (Honneth 2008, 2018) on an even deeper level than in his former conceptualizations. He wants to underpin the critical social diagnosis with a solid normative foundation that is broad enough to encompass not only social pathologies but also what he, with reference to Martin Heidegger, John Dewey, and Stanley Cavell (Honneth 2008), conceptualizes as the primordial stance of our being-in-the-world and being a self. In this understanding, it is not only intersubjective relations that ideally follow the model of symmetrical and mutual recognition; recognition then is the presupposition of having a relationship to the world as such, “an emphatic engagement” that “precedes neutral grasping of reality” (Honneth 2008, 40). Consequently, recognition becomes the prerequisite for cognition. As Strydom says in his discussion of the cognition-recognition opposition used by Honneth, “[T]he relation between cognition and recognition is presented as one of asymmetrical dependency” (Strydom 2012, 595). Whether this theoretical move as such is convincing is a question I will not investigate in this chapter. However, it should be clear from my presentation of these two spheres of recognition that this move towards an ontology of recognition will not solve the ‘generality/concretion dilemma’ but will make it even more difficult to assess what types of actions and linguistic utterances fall under the category of misrecognition. I will therefore focus on the practical dimension of recognition in a different, less foundational way and hope that this will also include the possibility to enrich the concept of recognition by looking into concrete examples and relations. In my investigation of the relation between intersubjectivity, self-confidence, and self-esteem, I am therefore trying to unfold dimensions of recognition that from my point of view are underrated in Honneth’s theory of recognition.

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  83

4.2 Intersubjectivity and Self-respect Central to Honneth’s theory of recognition is the interdependency of intersubjectivity and identity. Hegel, G. H. Mead, and many others support this understanding of what it means to become an individual. The term ‘individual’ refers to the singularity and uniqueness of an entity. In this sense, a chair or a person could be ‘individual.’ Identity refers to being something with a consistent, coherent, and continuous number of character traits and attributes. When said about human beings, both individuality and identity presuppose not only the principles of singularity, uniqueness, coherence, consistency, and continuity but also the crucial first-person perspective (see, e.g., Thomas Nagel’s 1986 seminal contribution to the understanding of personal identity). I shall not elaborate further on the complex and wide-ranging discussion on personal identity, particularly because Honneth takes a different route than mainstream philosophical theory regarding personal identity. He does so by choosing the tradition of Hegel and Mead in his understanding of identity, thereby highlighting the process of becoming a personal identity or a self. The focus on the self as a process, and consequently the inclusion of developmental psychology, as well as psychoanalytic theory, characterizes Honneth’s approach to a theory of the self. Internalization of the external world and integration of the internal world mark this process as a continuous encounter of the subject with its environment and its inner representations. The continuous interaction with the external world and the integration of these encounters with the external world mould identity; individuality is enriched by these processes. In very simple terms, in Honneth’s theory, recognition is something that intentionally and non-intentionally is given by one individual to the other, and mutual recognition is built into the recognition relation as a necessary presupposition. Honneth emphasizes that recognition and the result of self-respect are dependent upon intersubjective relations – i.e. the reciprocal relation between persons A and B (Honneth 2007). However, there might be another and different relation which is necessary in order to understand the process of becoming a self. I reconstruct the relations of recognition in Sennett’s (2003) book Respect in a World of Inequality as the introduction of a third relation that compliments the dual relation of A and B – namely, the relation that the self maintains to itself via externalization. This new element, X, denotes the activity and product of externalization. By using the notion of externalization, I also implicitly refer to Hegel and his introduction of labour in the chapter on self-consciousness in the Phenomenology of Spirit.2 The self in Honneth’s theory is dependent upon the recognition relation in which A is recognized by B as B is recognized by A. Although Honneth says that self-esteem is dependent upon achievements, he does not reflect conceptually upon the fact that with the principle of achievement,

84  Antje Gimmler a new entity enters the scene of the recognition relation. This element of achievement is explicitly reflected in Sennett’s understanding of respect. It is the introduction of an X, i.e. something that is the result of A’s or B’s action, that changes the dual relation. Now, A can be recognized by B for doing X. But A can also recognize herself for doing X. Simply speaking, this is the relation of the self to the products and externalizations of her own doing; this might be a material product, such as a cake, or immaterial, such as playing a piece of music. With the concepts of ‘craft’ and ‘mastery,’ Sennett distinguishes two ways of ‘producing something’: The sense of craft requires investment in the object of one’s labor as an end in itself: as Auden says in his poem, forgetting oneself in a function. Whereas in mastery the object is a means to another end, that of displaying what you have done, what you have become, to another. (Sennett 2003, 84) Thus, Sennett points to two different types of externalization that constitute the different relationships that a self is able to entertain. The self wants to be recognized by others for her mastery, and her activity is directed primarily towards others. Externalization in the mastery is then merely a means to reach the goal of recognition. Externalization organized according to the craftsman’s model changes this orientation towards others: recognition by others is now only secondary. The person gains self-respect by doing something for the sake of the doing as such, and this doing is characterized by the primacy of the activity and the product, not by the status of the product in relation to others. From Sennett’s perspective, the focus on mastery and on how others perceive an achievement could be seen as part of a narcissistic society with an exaggerated demand for recognition rather than the outcome of an ideal society guided by the normative infrastructure of recognition. In a narcissistic society, recognition turns into a matter of value economy in which individuals are constantly competing for recognition. This was exactly Rousseau’s point when he criticized modern civilization for turning a healthy form of self-love into an exaggerated longing for recognition and selfish love which results in a society deeply entrenched by inequality and injustice. For Sennett, recognition can only lead to selfesteem if the two different relations are combined: the relation to others and the relation to one’s own activity and externalization (Sennett 2003, 49–59). Thus, externalization in the form of craft is a necessary part of the continuous integration of the outer world in our identity building and is, therefore, part of the process of becoming a self. It is significant that Sennett chooses his examples from the world of craftsmanship or artistic production. However, the situation of a

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  85 carpenter who works meticulously with a chair until the wood shows the right brightness and the form is perfect is profoundly different from that of the person who works at an assembly line. The ideal of the craftsman/ artist seems slightly nostalgic and, one might say, is not really attuned to modern-day labour and production. However, this is precisely how Sennett criticizes the most recent ways of organizing labour. According to Sennett (1999), new forms of labour destroy self-respect and self-esteem in favour of a recognition economy that threatens our intimate relation to the product or renders this unnecessary. The distinction Sennett introduces between mastery and craft can be used to point to a problematic issue in Honneth’s recognition theory. Sennett’s simple argument against Honneth’s understanding would be that recognition should also be found in activities that are not directly the objects of recognition by others and that this type of deep involvement with the ‘other’ – be it another person or a material – is a necessary part of identity building. Sennett’s theory of respect is not a plea for pure self-realization through instrumental action. The very point of craftsmanship is that although the action is instrumental to produce something, craftsmanship implies also that we gain intimate knowledge of ‘the other.’ Sennett points to the fact that our relations to others will only be satisfying if the needs of other human beings and their social differences are taken into account. In this understanding, respectful gestures and actions are decisive, and these are always already part of social contexts and hierarchies: To be sure, society has a master idea: it is that by treating one another as equals we affirm mutual respect. However, can we only respect people who are equal in strength to ourselves? Some inequalities are arbitrary but others are intractable – such as differences of talent. People in modern society generally fail to convey mutual regard and recognition across these boundaries. (Sennett 2003, XV) The great challenge for a theory of recognition (or respect, which is the term Sennett prefers) lies in the inherent inequality of human beings that cannot be made extinct by, for instance, the formal equality of human beings as autonomous bearers of rights. According to Sennett, recognition is largely dependent upon “expressive work” (Sennett 2003, 59), subtle interactions, gestures, and knowledge of how to act respectfully in real-life situations. In Sennett’s understanding, recognition as a social practice is a form of art that can and should be learned in the same way as we learn to play a musical instrument. We might say that recognition is dependent upon the craft of discovering the needs of others without the direct goal of being recognized in return. Thus, for Sennett, self-confidence and self-esteem as the results of externalization and recognition by

86  Antje Gimmler others go hand in hand: the musician who only performs with mastery and is unaware of their fellow musicians and their place within the performance will ultimately destroy the entire performance, despite displaying excellent mastery of their instrument. Only in joint activity will the musicians be able to truly present a piece of art and not just the excellence of a voice or the mastery of an instrument as such. It is not only craft that constitutes relations of recognition but also craft allows us to be in touch with ‘the other’; it enables us to be absorbed by something outside ourselves. Although Honneth would not agree with Sennett’s entire analysis and would insist upon an explicit normative approach (which is lacking in Sennett’s conceptualization of respect), he would agree with Sennett that recognition as a practical concept needs to include the capacity of human beings to act in a recognizing manner. In his article titled “Invisibility” (Honneth 2001), Honneth highlights the practical dimension of recognition. Here, he outlines the topics of recognition and intersubjectivity on a more phenomenological level, paying greater attention to the subtle world of gestures and body language. He uses the novel Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison as an illustrative case. By characterizing Honneth’s approach as phenomenological, I do not refer to classical phenomenology as a distinct philosophical method and school but to a broader use of the term. Honneth’s phenomenological approach to social and psychological reality has the goal of capturing the richness and expressions of social relations and psychological states in order to elucidate the normative core of recognition on the level of microsocial relations. In the novel Invisible Man, an African American has the experience of being invisible to others. What kind of invisibility is this? Certainly not the invisibility that is the result of impaired sight or view. Another possibility of invisibility is the situation in which we see a person we do not want to meet (for whatever reasons). We may pretend not to see the person – this includes acting as if the other person also does not see us. We may indicate with our body movements that there is no person that would see us. In this situation, the act of invisibility is dependent upon seeing in the first place and secondly on the compliance between the two who are ‘playing’ at being invisible to each other. Neither is this the case Honneth has in mind. In my understanding of Honneth, he introduces a third type of invisibility – namely, social invisibility. In this case, we must obviously have the perception of a person, but in a paradoxical way, we do not see the person. This time, it is not because we do not want to be confronted by this person but because the person is socially invisible to us. Is this possible? Imagine the cleaning personnel who comes to your office, maybe three times a week. Obviously, you have seen them, but at least some of us would find it difficult to describe the person. The “elementary individual identification” (Honneth 2001, 113) is functioning, but what is missing is the “elementary form of ‘recognition’” (Honneth 2001, 115). We could go further in the analysis and compare the person

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  87 who is socially invisible to us to things and artefacts which are also invisible, even when they are being used by us. The chair, the pot of tea, or the pencils are on your table, but they only become visible when you need a new pot of tea, when the pencil is not working or the chair is suddenly rickety. The comparison between the invisible human being and a thing is revealing: human beings turn into things that are useful but are not seen as subjects. Social invisibility is thus a sign of the lack of fundamental recognition of the other as a human being and as a person. The analysis of the introduction of a third relation into the dual relation of recognition and the analysis of the subtle form of interaction (or rather non-interaction) in the case of persons being invisible that Honneth himself introduces leads us to two practical perspectives that should then inform our reading of the novel Anton Reiser. First, externalization in a product of one’s own creation is part of self-recognition and relations of recognition with others. Second, the subtle world of body language, emotions, and feelings should be seen as an important part of relations of recognition, although neither body language nor emotions and feelings are independent of the social context, as we will see in the novel.

4.3 A Life of Disrespect: The Novel Anton Reiser by Karl P. Moritz In a similar way as Honneth uses the novel The Invisible Man, I will use the novel Anton Reiser (1785/1790) written by the German enlightenment novelist Karl Philipp Moritz to show how social recognition and self-respect are related to each other through externalization and how the interplay of the body, emotions, and feelings direct us to a broad phenomenology of recognition. My choice of using Anton Reiser is motivated by the fact that it very clearly demonstrates all the features of a ‘recognition novel’: the protagonist, the boy Anton Reiser, is an anti-hero who is mistreated and disrespected from the very beginning of his life. During the course of the novel, he never succeeds in achieving recognition, and consequently, the novel ends on an aporetic note, i.e. without the revelation that is usually the goal of the successful identity building in a typical ‘Bildungsroman.’ The novel is a negative ‘Bildungsroman,’ and the author Moritz uses his own biography to give an insight into the world of lower-class merchants, teachers, craftsmen, and the religious movements of Pietism and Quietism, which gives this milieu its particular claustrophobic atmosphere. Religious introspection and worldly asceticism constitute the framework for the investigations into the psyche of Anton Reiser. Introspection becomes a sort of obsession of the boy Anton, who scrutinizes every event and emotion. Moritz calls the novel ‘a psychological novel’ and refers to his journal “Magazin zur Erfahrungsseelenkunde” (1783–1793), in which he developed the theoretical programme for his investigation into emotions and psychological disorders. Indeed, Moritz was one of the first

88  Antje Gimmler introspective psychologists. Clearly, though, a novel should not be taken as an authentic experience. Rather, the literary form, the autobiographic dimension, and Moritz’s own research in psychology come together to form a condensed picture of human relations that illuminates especially those forms of disrespect that accompany dysfunctionality in families and social deprivation, and which result in a fundamental lack of selfrespect and self-esteem in the main protagonist. To understand the specific milieu of disrespect that Anton Reiser experiences, we first need to turn our attention to his religious background in the Quietism of the eighteenth century. The Quietist sect is guided by the writings of Madame Guyon whose doctrine exhibits its influence not only on Anton’s religious beliefs but also on his entire upbringing. The social inferiority of the class of lower merchants, handymen, and teachers is intensified by the specific religious worldview which enacts worldly asceticism as a life-form. As Moritz says, “[T]he entire annihilation of all selfhood or self-love” (Moritz 1997, 6) is the path to unification of the faithful follower with God. As typical for protestant sects at that time, in Quietism all worldly pleasures and interests are forbidden. Because the follower is standing alone in relation to God, and because this affords a constant investigation into the conscience and psyche of the individual in order to ascertain salvation, this type of protestant sect has contributed to the development of intensive and extensive practices of self-investigation and has initiated new forms of habitus (Schlette 2005, 80). Introspection in these protestant sects (such as Pietism and Quietism) has the function of not only deepening the individual’s investigation into their own conscience but also maintaining external social control. What is decisive in the religious investigation into the soul is the intended totality: everything is relevant; no thought, emotion, or experience is allowed to go unnoticed or unscrutinized. We can see in the novel that the boy Anton takes this religious doctrine very seriously and will follow this path and explore his own motives, thoughts, and experiences. However, while self-exploration in Quietism is based upon the goal of achieving unity with God, Anton only produces a continuous distance to reality in which the inner and outer worlds remain irreconcilably separated. Secondly, we need to turn our attention to Anton Reiser’s upbringing. As the author says, he was “oppressed from his cradle onwards” (Moritz 1997, 9). The parents neglect the child. He lacks nurture on every level (food, clothes, hygiene, attention, and love) and therefore feels humiliated in many aspects of his life. In the novel, the boy reports that he has often experienced others talking about him with contempt; this humiliation touches him deeply. Another example of humiliation is that in a certain situation, his mother wants him to run errands that otherwise only a maid would do. Generally, his parents and later also the hatter, with whom he was staying as an apprentice, would always find something wrong with him, not only his actions but also his facial expressions were

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  89 the objects of critique. Only a few people treat him in a friendly manner – for example, a priest, who also gives him the possibility to attend the high school. For Anton, education and literature are to become the escape from these depressive circumstances of his life. The novel is a heartbreaking report of a childhood that lacks almost all recognition whatsoever. Anton searches for recognition, for example, in relation to other boys, but it is interesting to see that he is not able to reply appropriately to friendly gestures or attention: “[T]he occasional friendly glance was for him something quite special that did not match the rest of his ideas” (Moritz 1997,10). Only one friend, a sort of alter ego, allows him to leave the solipsistic realm of his ruminations. He is able to leave his obsessive examination of his inner world because of this relationship. This friend becomes a loophole that allows Anton to temporarily escape his focus on himself. Looking at this devastating socialization and identity-building process, we see that all elements of neglect, humiliation, and contempt, as well as the lack of self-confidence and self-esteem, are present. Moritz quite often uses the description of body language as a literary means to show the amount and extension of disrespect that constitute the framework for this failed personal identity. There are looks, movements, and gestures that indicate expressions of contempt for Anton. In a very drastic way, Anton’s body bears the signs of disrespect. He suffers from an infected wound in his foot for some years and later comes to be plagued by constant headaches. These are severe bodily responses to the disrespect and humiliations he experiences. Parents, teachers, and schoolmates always meet him with suspicion and distance. He has to suffer many beatings, and there is no sign of affectionate and positive bodily contact with his parents. Together with the neglect of fundamental rights, such as the right to food or medical help, these bodily expressions of disrespect contribute to the picture of a human being who is so severely damaged that a happy ending is almost ruled out. As a matter of fact, the novel ends abruptly, and there is no integrative insight on the part of the anti-hero into the totality of his person. When Anton arrives in Leipzig to join a theatre, it turns out that the theatre has been closed down. As a reader, one can only speculate whether Anton will ever succeed. In the remaining part of this chapter, I will explore the elements of the novel that highlight misrecognition and Anton’s attempts to reach a satisfying self-relation despite the devastating circumstances. The first observation is that Anton is clearly lacking in self-confidence and self-esteem. He is torn between a feeling of total annihilation and the desire to achieve grandiosity as a writer or an actor. Without delving into deeper psychoanalytic interpretation, we could diagnose Anton as a case of severe narcissistic disorder. In his self-esteem, he is completely dependent upon the recognition of others. The narrator comments that Anton never understood that

90  Antje Gimmler the basis of virtue is self-respect, which for him at that time could only be founded on other people’s respect – and that without this the most magnificent edifice of his imagination must rapidly crumble. (Moritz 1997, 164) In order to pursue plans, to set goals, and to realize these with realistic steps, a self needs to grow with both frustration and success – with the experience of success totally missing in Anton’s life. Self-hatred with the culmination of suicidal thoughts fits into this antagonistic and torn personality in all its misery. The phantasies of a grand self that Anton entertains fail not only because of his lacking capacities. It is rather his absolute dependency upon the recognition of others, his obsessive self-investigation, and his overheated imagination that turn out to be utterly destructive for Anton. The situation becomes aporetic because the anti-hero Anton becomes unable to accept the rare acts of recognition he meets. However, Anton does make attempts to escape his miserable situation. One of these attempts is negative and could be read as a direct comment on Honneth’s analysis of invisibility. At the age of 11, Anton has to leave a teacher he is very fond of. His feelings are not noticed by his parents, and he in turn learns that he is not allowed to have these feelings. The piety and belief that were expected from him now become purely strategic obedience. He feigns his religious feelings: “‘If that’s all I need to do for people to like me, it won’t cost me much trouble’” (Moritz 1997, 36). Anton becomes invisible in a double sense. His inner feelings become invisible to his family. Only his adaption to the norms is visible. However, Anton also becomes invisible to himself. His feelings of anger and frustration disappear, and an adaptive attitude that strangles his inner life takes over. He alienates himself from his feelings of anger and emotional pain. The ideal of religious piety that his parents uphold is also devalued with this new distance. His parents can no longer count as a possible source of recognition. Another escape path is Anton’s passion for literature. Imagination becomes a retreat where he can live out all his emotions, anger, and fear but also the joy and success that have no place in his real life (on the notion of imagination, see Cusack 2015). Moritz uses the role imagination plays for the anti-hero Anton Reiser as a form of negative comment on the specific importance imagination inhabited in contemporary philosophy and literature. In Anton’s case, it is the theatre that becomes the most prominent stage for his imagination. Passion for the theatre is a topic quite often found in German literature of the eighteenth century; the phenomenon has been coined ‘Theatromanie.’ Another famous example of this passion for the theatre and the idealized figure of the actor can be found in the novel Wilhelm Meister by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. The difference between the two novels (Wilhelm Meister and Anton Reiser) is that the protagonist Wilhelm Meister is successful in advancing

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  91 an integrative identity with the help of his performance as an actor, which will not happen for Anton. Anton’s passion for the theatre fits quite well with Sennett’s conceptual difference between mastery and craft. Although Anton is sincerely occupied by the role and the play, mastery and the orientation towards the praise and recognition of others take over. Anton’s fascination with the stage also fits well with Rousseau’s warning that the theatre is one of the most powerful weapons of civilization with which to corrupt individuals (Rousseau 2009 [1758]). For Anton, to be an actor has two advantages. On the stage, he can switch to another personality, and he can do so by showing mastery. The theatre is thus not a place to learn about himself for Anton, as it is for Wilhelm Meister. On stage and by reading plays, Anton imagines a new, different world, a world of his own making. Anton is able to experience a phantasy world, but without the necessary integration of this into his own life; stage and life will remain separate realms. There is one relation of recognition in which Anton experiences a form of respect – namely, his relation to literature. However, recognition is not achieved through his reading of literature or dreaming of plots and plays, but rather when he himself is successful in writing some small text. The situation is typical: when singing in the school choir, Anton defends his constant reading to his fellow students. He openly admits that reading gives him a break from the teasing and bullying he experiences. This instigates even more teasing, and Anton is deeply hurt. This time he chooses a more productive reaction: [H]e sought to express in words the pain he had felt and was still feeling, in order to bring it more vividly before his imagination. – And before the choir had finished singing, the essay that he intended to write down at home was perfectly complete, amid the noise and jeers and scornful laughter – and his pleasure at this elevated him in a sense above himself and his own sorrow. (Moritz 1997, 190) In this instance, Anton succeeds in achieving self-respect not from the recognition of others, but from an act of productivity that shows the sign of transcendence of his self, which is characteristic of Sennett’s understanding of craft. In the beginning, Anton’s writing is certainly not crafted. However, he starts to write more frequently, and by then his writings also become recognized by others, for instance by the headmaster of his school. Through his absorption in the process of writing and his satisfaction with the product, Anton shows that he is able to gain a sort of selfesteem that transcends the recognition he could receive from others. First, after this feeling of self-esteem by writing something that he himself thinks is worthwhile, he is able to accept the recognition of others. He has a similar experience when reading and discussing literature with his

92  Antje Gimmler only friend. Also, in this case, the joy he experiences from joint reading is more important than the mastery of reading aloud or playing different roles. One might think that Honneth’s understanding of self-esteem by achievement would fit quite well with this experience of Anton. From my point of view, Honneth’s conceptualization of self-esteem does not fully fit the experience I have described. In Anton’s case, the experience of flow and feeling of immersion as part of performing a craft is the necessary prerequisite for possible recognition by others. One could also say that self-recognition becomes primordial to recognition by others.

4.4 Conclusion What becomes clear from reading the novel and investigating these micro-situations is that the relation between self-esteem and recognition by others is more dynamic than Honneth’s theory allows for. Self-esteem has at least two sources: the relation to others and the relation that the self entertains with itself with the help of externalization. Hegel’s insight that the struggle for recognition needs a third relation that allows a nonlethal solution is important in this respect. Being able to establish a selfrelation that is partly independent of the evaluation of others seems, in case of Anton Reiser, to be a prerequisite for achieving a full self. Another insight that stems from the interpretation of the novel is the fact that bodily as well as linguistic expressions of respect and disrespect are always part of a specific social context and thus ‘tainted.’ The novel depicts the intertwinement of individual self-recognition and social recognition very well and in great detail. There are specific expressions of disrespect that are closely connected to the Quietist sect, as well as to the lower class of the bourgeoisie, and to handymen, schoolteachers, and country clergy. A tapestry of different expressions and varieties of disrespect unfolds in this novel, which renders the reader more sensitive to the differences in how recognition and disrespect could take place and are perceived. In this sense, the novel fulfils one of the functions of literature almost to perfection: the novel enables us to learn about others, to identify and sympathize with others, with those who are foreign to us – or literature makes us see ourselves from a different perspective (see Nussbaum 1990, 47f.). As readers of novels and poems, and as audience members in the theatre, we learn to identify signs and expressions of recognition and disrespect. As expressive writers, if not of novels then of diaries or notes, we gain a moment of self-awareness that contributes to our self-esteem. However, expressive practices can be many things, and following Sennett, we might focus our understanding of the various relations of recognition more on doing something in a crafts-like manner than on being recognized by others for our doing. If ‘doing recognition’ is an art (or a craft), we need to practice, and literature (or movies, paintings, cakes, furniture, etc.) might offer good opportunities for us to do so.

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  93 Externalization in the form of being absorbed by the activity and the product itself and not by the value this has for others can have the function of breaking a lethal struggle for recognition. Achieving self-respect through writing can be part of intersubjective relations of recognition; however, externalization gives way to a break with the possible constraints that can also be connected to recognition. It is clear that from Honneth’s viewpoint, the situation described in the novel has its source in social pathologies that are the result of an initial lack of recognition. I agree with this diagnosis; however, I would add that the conceptualization of recognition within a purely intersubjective model leaves us with a one-sided process of identity building that is especially vulnerable to the structural inequalities and hierarchies that also govern modern societies.

Notes 1 In Gimmler (2017), I have given a more detailed account of my reading of Honneth’s construction of the theory of recognition. Also, in an article from 2018, I have used the novel Anton Reiser to discuss the social and existential conditions of a good life. I will draw upon selected topics and arguments from these two articles; however, in the present chapter, I place a pronounced focus on the practices of recognition. 2 Besides Hegel’s understanding of externalization in the Phenomenology of Spirit, we could also draw upon the sociological (e.g. Berger and Luckmann 1966) or other philosophical (e.g. Kojève 1975) approaches to the subject of externalization. A completely different topic would be the analysis of Hegel’s reconstruction of self-consciousness in the Phenomenology of Spirit and the reasons for Honneth’s prefererence of Hegel’s Jena writings, also on this issue. A pragmatic reading of Hegel shows that externalization is necessarily an integral part of being a self-conscious individual (see Gimmler 2004).

References Berger, L. Peter and Luckmann, Thomas. 1966. The Social Construction of Reality. New York: Doubleday Inc. Boltanski, Luc and Chiapello, Eve. 2005. The New Spirit of Capitalism. London and New York: Verso Books. Cooke, Maeve. 2000. Between ‘Objectivism’ and ‘Contextualism’: The Normative Foundations of Social Philosophy. Critical Horizons 1(2): 193–227. Cusack, Andrew. 2015. The Biographical Imagination in Moritz’s Anton Reiser. Orbis Litteratum 70(3): 234–262. Fraser, Nancy and Honneth, Axel. 2003. Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange. Trans. J. Golb, J. Ingram and C. Wilke. London and New York: Verso Books. Gimmler, Antje. 2004. Hegel as Pragmatist. In The Pragmatic Turn in Philosophy: Contemporary Engagements between Analytic and Continental Thought, eds. William Egginton and Mike Sandbothe, 47–66. Albany: Syracuse University of New York Press.

94  Antje Gimmler Gimmler, Antje. 2017. Recognition – Conceptualization and Context. In Concepts in Action: Conceptual Constructionism, eds. Håkon Leiulfsrud and Peter Sohlberg, 302–319. Leiden: Brill. Gimmler, Antje. 2018. Reflexionen über die sozialen Bedingungen geglückten Lebens: Axel Honneths Sozialphilosophie der Anerkennung und K.P. Moritz’ Anerkennungsroman Anton Reiser. In Anerkennung und Diversität, eds. Christine Kanz and Ulrike Stamm, 33–56. Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 1999. The Social Dynamics of Disrespect. In Habermas. A Critical Reader, ed. Peter Dews, 320–337. Cambridge: Blackwell. Honneth, Axel. 2001. Invisibility: On the Epistemology of ‘Recognition’. Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 75: 111–139. Honneth, Axel. 2003. Objektbeziehungstheorie und postmoderne Identität. In Unsichtbarkeit: Stationen Einer Theorie der Intersubjektivität, ed. Axel Honneth, 138–161. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Honneth, Axel. 2007. Between Aristotle and Kant: Recognition and Moral Obligation. In Disrespect: The Normative Foundations of Critical Theory, ed. Axel Honneth, 129–143. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2008. Reification: A New Look at an Old Idea. Ed. Martin Jay. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2018. Anerkennung. Eine europäische Ideengeschichte, Berlin: Suhrkamp. Illouz, Eva. 2012. Why Love Hurts: A Sociological Explanation. Cambridge: Polity. Juul, Søren. 2009. Recognition and Judgment in Social Work. European Journal of Social Work 12(4): 403–417. Kojève, Alexandre. 1975. Hegel: eine Vergegenwärtigung seines Denkens; Kommentar zur Phänomenologie des Geistes. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Laitinen, Arto. 2002. Interpersonal Recognition: A Response to Value or a Precondition of Personhood? Inquiry 45(4): 463–478. Moritz, Karl Philip. 1997 [1785–1790]. Anton Reiser. A Psychological Novel. London: Penguin Books. Nagel, Thomas. 1986. The View from Nowhere. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Nussbaum, Martha. 1990. Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. 2009 [1758]. Lettre à M. D’Alembert sur les spectacles. Paris: BiblioBazaar. Schlette, Magnus. 2005. Zwang und Freiheit der Erzählung. Johann Arndts Frömmigkeitstheologie als Quelle narrativer Individuierung in der Moderne. In Freiheit und Menschenwürde. Studien zum Beitrag des Pietismus, eds. Jörg Dierken and Arnulf von ScheChila, 65–98. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Sennett, Richard. 1999. The Corrosion of Character: The Personal Consequences of Work in the New Capitalism. New York and London: W.W. Norton. Sennett, Richard. 2003. Respect in a World of Inequality. New York and London: W.W. Norton.

Recognition: Intersubjectivity and Self-Respect  95 Strydom, Piet. 2012. Cognition and Recognition: On the Problem of the Cognitive in Honneth. Philosophy and Social Criticism 38(6): 591–607. Taylor, Charles. 1992. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism and The Politics of Recognition, ed. Amy Gutmann, 25–73. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 25–73. Tugendhat, Ernst. 1993. Vorlesungen über Ethik. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Zurn, Christopher F. 2005. Recognition, Redistribution, and Democracy: Dilemmas of Honneth’s Critical Social Theory. European Journal of Philosophy 13(1): 89–126.

5 Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment Carl-Göran Heidegren

The recognitive attitude has been explicated in terms of “taking someone as a person” (Ikäheimo & Laitinen 2007, 40). A dialogical version of this attitude reads, “taking someone as a person, the content of which is understood and which is accepted by the other person” (Ikäheimo & Laitinen, 42). This is the genus of recognition, of which there are different species depending upon how exactly we are taking someone as a person (Ikäheimo 2002).1 This attitude may be contrasted with (a) not taking someone as a person and (b) taking someone as a non-person. In the first case, we relate to someone for example merely as a means, i.e. in an instrumental way only; in the second case, we relate to someone in a way that makes him or her socially invisible. The phenomenon that I have in mind in the latter case finds expression in English wordings such as ‘looking through someone’ or ‘giving someone the cold shoulder.’ There are likely corresponding expressions in most languages, referring to a very widespread human experience. For example, in Swedish, there is – besides ‘se rakt igenom någon / looking straight through someone’ – the expression ‘bli behandlad som luft,’ literally ‘being treated as nothing but air.’ This phenomenon I call social invisibilization or non-person treatment.2 The primary aim of this text is to introduce some distinctions that may be useful for further inquiries into this phenomenon which, at least from a theory of recognition perspective, has been hitherto rather neglected. To begin with, I discuss Erving Goffman’s notion of non-person treatment. In the next section, I depict social invisibility as the ultimate degrading situation on one hand and on the other as an opportunity with the help of two twentieth-century novels. I then distinguish social invisibilization from overt disrespect, the latter eventually being a form of negative recognition, paving the way for positive forms of recognition. Fourth, I distinguish between ‘seeing but pretending not to see’ and ‘seeing without really seeing,’ and furthermore discuss the distorted and the prejudiced look as two forms of the latter phenomenon. I then present social invisibilization as one of two fundamental forms of bullying. Lastly, I draw DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-7

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  97 some conclusions and present a tentative typology of the forms of social invisibilization and non-person treatment.

5.1 Goffman on Non-Person Treatment Goffman discusses what he calls non-person treatment in Chapter 16 – “On Kinds of Exclusion from Participation” – of his dissertation from 1953, in a passage in the article “The Nature of Deference and Demeanor” from 1956, and in a few passages in The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life from 1959.3 Clearly, the notion of non-person treatment is a continuous theme in Goffman’s early work. It has been suggested (Travers 1999) that his notion of civil inattention is a development of the notion of non-person treatment, giving an originally negative stance a more positive turn.4 Civil inattention may even be described as “mutual nonperson treatment” (Travers 1999, 165). For Goffman, non-person treatment essentially means taking no consideration of someone or treating someone who is bodily present as if he or she were not present at all. This is something one does towards someone (a) having a low ceremonial status or (b) to convey a dislike of him or her. These are the two cases that Goffman mentions in his dissertation on life in the Shetland Isles (see Goffman 1953, 226). Among the kinds of people who tend to be treated as non-persons, he mentions domestic servants and waitresses, the young and the very old, mental patients, and technical personnel of different kinds: stenographers, cameramen, reporters, plain-clothes guards, et cetera.5 It can be noticed that all of Goffman’s exemplifications seem to belong to (a) rather than (b). A stenographer, for example, is usually not socially invisible because one wants to convey a dislike of him or her. In the first case, (a), non-person treatment seems to be a matter of a specific habitus, a disposition that has become a second nature. Some people simply are invisible – until you need them. It is just a matter of fact that they are invisible as long as you don’t need them.6 Until then they recede into or are simply part of the transparent background (cp. Scotland-Stewart 2007, 165, 169). We are here concerned with a kind of socially constructed ontology: saying what the world is like. This may be seen as a form of naturalized social arrogance. In the second case, (b), we have to do with an intentional targeting of someone. In this case, it takes an effort not to see someone, to make him or her invisible. This kind of social invisibilization is, following Goffman, often a way of expressing a strong dislike or animosity towards the person in question. Case (a) is probably a normalcy in societies with a marked hierarchical status order, where there is a kind of built-in disrespect between people belonging to different layers in the social fabric. People have such varying worth that some need not be taken into consideration; they are expected to remain in the shadows – being invisible.7 On the contrary, in a more

98  Carl-Göran Heidegren egalitarian social order, this kind of non-person treatment is always problematic if not an outright illegitimate form of disrespect. When equal citizenship and personhood have become institutionalized, no one has such a low ceremonial status as this form of non-person treatment indicates. No human being is a non-person. Also, the poorest and most vulnerable are full human beings and should be treated as such. Thus, we may assume that in more egalitarian societies, non-person treatment mostly takes the form of conveying a dislike of someone, thus case (b). However, the case of (b) may also occur for example between persons belonging to the same status group within hierarchical societies. Furthermore, in the latter kind of societies (a) is principally a top-down phenomenon, whereas (b) is a same-level and, occasionally, a bottom-up phenomenon. For someone having a high-status position, it is below his or her dignity to dislike someone having a very low-status position, thus non-person treatment in the form of (b) is in this case out of the question. Goffman mentions a third possibility in Chapter 4 (“Discrepant Roles”) of The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life, writing, It would seem that the role of non-person usually carries with it some subordination and disrespect, but we must not underestimate the degree to which the person who is given or who takes such a role can use it as a defense. (Goffman 1990, 151–152) This means a move from being the victim of non-person treatment to social invisibility as being a protective shield and safe haven, a fortress behind whose walls one may retreat and find peace. As a contrast, we have the struggle to become socially visible, to come out of the dark closet of invisibility, and to be someone at last. The achieved visibility can, to begin with, be visibility as someone who is disrespected in one way or another, being a recipient of negative recognition, which may eventually be turned into a positive (affirmative) recognition.

5.2 Social Invisibility: The Most Horrible Situation or an Opportunity? In a famous formulation in Swedish author Hjalmar Söderberg’s novel Doktor Glas, the main character gives voice to the desperate desire to be seen by others: We want to be loved; failing that, admired; failing that, feared; failing that, hated and despised. At all costs we want to stir up some sort of feeling in others. Our soul abhors a vacuum. At all costs it longs for contact. (Söderberg 2002, 70)

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  99 To be socially invisible is in this case of all things the most feared, a situation of pure horror. Everything is preferable compared to that. If you can’t love me, then at least hate me!8 A similar experience seems at first glance to be expressed in Ralph Ellison’s 1952 novel, Invisible Man. Right at the beginning of the story, the nameless narrator, a black man in America, states, “I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. […] When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination – indeed, everything and anything except me” (Ellison 1995, 3).9 However, when the narrator towards the end of the story again reflects on his life, a remarkable turn seems to have taken place: “[M]y world has become one of infinite possibilities. […] Until some gang succeeds in putting the world in a strait jacket, its definition is possibility” (Ellison 1995, 576). The invisible man has gone underground. Acceptance of his invisibility and a refusal to be defined by others is what characterizes his new underground life. He is an invisible man but has come to see invisibility as an opportunity, as a platform for creating his own identity. The insight that the narrator in Invisible Man has is not to adapt to the opinions of others but to define himself, to create a self-image on his own. “Hence again I have stayed in my hole, because up above there’s an increasing passion to make men conform to a pattern” (Ellison 1995, 576). But, it may be asked, is it at all possible to establish a positive self-identity all on your own? The point of departure for Axel Honneth’s The Struggle for Recognition (1995) was that such a thing is, if not impossible, then at least highly improbable. This assumption forms the background for his insistence on a deep-seated human need for recognition in various forms. The expression ‘infinite possibilities’ may be interpreted in terms of being the negation of recognition in the sense of identifying someone as a particular kind of person, i.e. categorizing him or her. Eluding categorizations may be experienced as an opening up of a world of infinite possibilities: I am neither this nor that, but may be or become this just as well as that and a thousand other things. Being in this sense invisible means being free from categorizations that diminish me and lock me up in a given pattern filled with expectations. In Invisible Man, the narrator hears stories about a man called Rinehart, whom he never actually meets. Rinehart is a master of multiple identities who steps in and out of different disguises, who is never to be caught or finally defined. This half-mythical man becomes the narrator’s role model: “Rine the runner and Rine the gambler and Rine the briber and Rine the lover and Rinehart the Reverend. (…) His world was possibility and he knew it” (Ellison 1995, 498). For Doktor Glas, on the other hand, social invisibility is the most harmful and horrible position, the thing that he fears the most. Even to be met with overt disrespect is preferable compared to being socially invisible. However, to strive and struggle for recognition always

100  Carl-Göran Heidegren involves taking a risk because you may lose that struggle. Social invisibility can mean both having a protective shield and the intensification of disrespect. Thus, social invisibility is “morally complex”; it may also have “empowering effects,” not only “crippling ones” (ScotlandStewart 2007, 187). ‘If you can’t love me, then at least hate me!’ To bring hatred upon oneself can be seen as a form of self-stigmatization. To make the move from social invisibility to social visibility as disrespected (‘despised and hated’), this being a form of negative recognition, may eventually be a first step towards an affirmative recognition. There is here a certain parallel to sociologist Wolfgang Lipp’s argument that self-stigmatization is what may bring forth charisma, thus establishing a connection between self-stigmatization and the genesis of charisma (see Lipp 2010). One who, for example, renounces everything, who provokes by abnormal behaviour, who castigates and takes guilt upon oneself, in short stages oneself as a dramatic figure, is also one who attracts attention and who may turn this initially negative attention into something positive, into charisma. The dramatic act of self-stigmatization involves a move from being a passive victim to being an active subject. The outcast, the expelled, the abnormal, eventually becomes the new hero and leader. Lipp’s very interesting reflections on the connection between stigma and charisma, mediated by self-stigmatization, may contribute significantly to the elucidation of the dynamics of social invisibility and visibility, of disrespect and recognition (negative and affirmative).

5.3 Social Invisibilization and Overt Disrespect A primary distinction to make is between two different forms of disrespect: overt disrespect and social invisibilization. This distinction can be introduced through what at first glance is a somewhat puzzling formulation by La Rochefoucauld: “We would rather speak ill of ourselves than not at all” (quoted in Todorov 2001, 81). The aphorism may be interpreted in the following way: it is better to say something disrespectful about yourself than to have nothing to say about yourself. Even selfcontempt is a way of affirming that you exist. A formulation in Adam Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) develops this topic in a new direction: “to be overlooked, and to be disapproved of, are things entirely different” (Smith 1976, 51). Now we have moved to an intersubjective sphere. It is one thing to be overlooked by someone, another thing to be disapproved of by someone. To overlook someone may be unintentional, an innocent lapse, but it may also be a form of non-person treatment, i.e. deliberately treating someone as socially invisible. Furthermore, we may disapprove of what someone says or does without disrespecting him or her as a person. But to be disapproved of as a person is to be the object of overt disrespect.

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  101 Several authors have in different ways thematized or touched upon the distinction between social invisibilization and overt disrespect. (a) Tzvetan Todorov distinguishes in Life in Common (2001) between (a) to recognize our existence and (b) to confirm our value. We cannot have the latter without having the former. Furthermore, we may say that overt disrespect negates (b), our value is in this case not confirmed but rather rejected, whereas non-person treatment negates both (a) and (b); that is, in this case, not even our existence is recognized. Thus, as in the quote from Doktor Glas, one may accept contempt and hatred in order to avoid the lack of (a). “The hatred of someone means his rejection and can, therefore, reinforce his feeling of existence” (Todorov 2001, 82). Not having our existence recognized (a) can, thus, be seen as an intensification of not having our value confirmed (b). The latter implies a rejection, the former more than that: it is a denial. The protagonist in Karl Philipp Moritz’s psychological novel Anton Reiser (1785–1790), a master of self-castigation in German literature, expresses this feeling in the following way: “But to have no friend and not even to have an enemy is true hell, which sums up in itself all the tortures which the sense of nonentity inflicts on a thinking being” (quoted in Todorov 2001, 82). To feel our own existence becomes a foundation stone in Todorov’s attempt to develop a general anthropology: “What is universal, and basic to humanity, is that from birth we enter into a network of interhuman relationships, a social world; what is universal is that we all hope for a feeling of our own existence”(Todorov 2001, 85).10 (b) Sociologist Stephan Voswinkel argues in Anerkennung und Reputation (2001) that what he calls non-recognition (Nicht-Anerkennung) may be seen as the negation of the hope for or expectancy of recognition. The negation can take one of two forms: (a) a passive negation, which means that nothing happens, and (b) an active negation, which means that the opposite of what was hoped for or expected happens. Voswinkel calls the former nonrecognition (Nichtanerkennung) and the latter disrespect (Missachtung). This corresponds to what I call social invisibilization and overt disrespect.11 Furthermore, Voswinkel argues (a) normally involves a disappointment, which one may try to deal with by ignoring, whereas (b) normally involves an offence, which is most of the time hard to ignore. In the latter case, one tends to react emotionally in one way or another, ranging from feelings of shame to sheer rage. How do the two forms of non-recognition relate to one another? “For someone being disrespected to reach a condition of passive nonrecognition may be a step forward” (Voswinkel 2001, 44). This means to reach

102  Carl-Göran Heidegren a kind of normalcy, being average, not being conspicuous in any way, especially not in a negative way. “On the other hand, passive nonrecognition means not being taken into consideration. Disrespect, in contrast, involves a ‘negative recognition’” (Voswinkel 2001, 44). Overt disrespect means that you for some reason and in some way are being noticed and taken into consideration. “Sometimes the road from nonrecognition to recognition leads through disrespect” (Voswinkel 2001, 44). To be noticed and taken into consideration is a necessary but not a sufficient condition for recognition. Not being taken notice of is a form of passive nonrecognition, although it may have a strong active component: demonstratively not answering a question, talking about someone who is present, et cetera. By striving to be taken notice of, you run the risk of being rejected and despised. To remain in anonymity means that you are in a sense protected from overt disrespect. For someone who is socially invisible, to be taken into consideration – in any way – is a first step towards recognition as a person: it gives one a feeling of existence.12 (c) Axel Honneth did not discuss what is here called social invisibilization in his original theory of recognition and disrespect as presented in The Struggle for Recognition. This first occurred in the article “Invisibility: On the Epistemology of ‘Recognition’” from 2001. His point of departure in the article is Ralph Ellison’s novel Invisible Man. There are, according to Honneth, different degrees of disrespect involved in ‘looking through someone,’ of which some come close to what is here called non-person treatment. How much injury is caused to the other depends upon “how active the perceiving subject is in the act of nonperception” (Honneth 2001, 112). We have, for example, the case of harmless inattention or simply being absent-minded, just as well as the case of a demonstrative refusal to take notice of someone. The former is an example of a low level of activity, whereas the latter represents a high level of activity. Thus, according to Honneth, there is no completely passive negation of recognition; in order to count as disrespect, a minimum of activity must be presupposed. Thus, disrespecting someone by ‘looking through’ him or her is always something intentional; “it demands gestures or ways of behaving that make clear that the other is not seen not merely accidentally, but rather intentionally” (Honneth 2001, 112). Recognizing someone means expressing with the help of facial expressions, gestures, words or actions a benevolent attitude towards him or her, through which is affirmed “the fact that the other person is supposed to possess social ‘validity’” (Honneth 2001, 115). To deliberately refuse to see someone means the absence of such expressions, and it is this lack of indicators of a benevolent attitude that is experienced as a humiliation: to be seen physically but to be treated as socially invisible.13

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  103 (d) Judith Butler in Precarious Life (2004) discusses what she calls effacement as the foreclosing of an ethical response to the perceived Other. The word derives from the old French word esfacier, literally meaning “to remove the face.” According to Butler, effacement may take one of two forms: (a) the symbolic representation of the Other as subhuman, or (b) the radical effacement of the image of the Other, which is excluded entirely from view. In the first case, she talks of “effacement through representation itself” or discourse itself, and in the second case, she speaks of “effacement through occlusion” (Butler 2006, 147). The first form of effacement, (a), seems to involve a double move: making someone visible as subhuman and at the same time invisible as human. It means denying or covering up someone’s humanity (personhood). Butler exemplifies this with the help of the United States’ policy of war on terrorism in Afghanistan and Iraq. A perhaps more obvious example is the Nazi policy against the German Jews and later Jewish people in the occupied countries. The goal was to make Jewish people invisible as human and visible as Jews and nothing else, i.e. as subhuman. The separation of Jews and non-Jews by various means, for example, Jews not being allowed to visit public baths, the negative presentation of Jews in cartoons and films, the ghettoization of the Jewish population, the enforced wearing of the Jewish star (Star of David) on clothing when appearing in public, were gradual steps in this process. Furthermore, this form of effacement through representation itself gradually paved the way for the policy of the most radical form of effacement: eradicating the Jewish people from the face of the earth. In conclusion, some authors argue that social invisibilization may be seen as the more fundamental form of disrespect in comparison with overt disrespect because it strikes at our very feeling of existence. Not to be (seen) is to be even lesser than to be hated and despised. It has also been argued that social invisibilization, in order to count as disrespect, has to be intentional but also that the level of activity may differ quite considerably. Although it may in some cases be difficult to distinguish intentional from unintentional non-person treatment, I think that in most cases it is not. We generally know or feel quite well when someone is deliberately ‘looking through’ us, i.e. is doing so out of disrespect.14

5.4 The Distorted and the Prejudiced Look So far I have mainly discussed the phenomenon of ‘seeing but pretending not to see.’ Another form of social invisibilization may be called ‘seeing without really seeing.’ This is the second distinction that I want to make. Seeing but pretending not to see means visually cognizing someone but acting as if this is not the case, thereby transmitting a feeling of non-existence

104  Carl-Göran Heidegren to the other. Seeing without really seeing means visually cognizing someone but, so to speak, only through a lens, thereby transmitting a feeling to the other of not being seen for who he or she really is. The latter means being blind in the sense of only seeing one’s own image of someone else and not the real person in front of one. Seeing but pretending not to see is always intentional, to a varying degree, and thus is a way of being active in relation to other people. Seeing without really seeing is essentially about preconceived opinions that we have of other people, which then are activated in relevant situations. There may be a degree of unawareness or unreflectiveness in this kind of seeing without really seeing but also a strong desire to see only that which confirms our preconceived opinions, no matter what the self-image of the ‘unseen’ person may be.15 There seem to be two basic forms of social invisibilization as seeing without really seeing, which may be called the distorted and the prejudiced look. This is my third distinction. The former is a form of misrecognition, an incorrect way of recognizing someone as someone, whereas the latter adds to this a negative evaluation of the other.16 The distorted look is the well-meaning look, the idealizing look, which nevertheless misses its mark and is a form of not seeing someone for who he or she really is. The prejudiced look, on the other hand, is the depreciatory look, which involves looking down on someone in, for example, an evaluative sense. Neither one of the two kinds of look really does apprehend the concrete individual in front of it. Both the distorted and the prejudiced look are ways of seeing the other through a kind of lens. This often takes the form of seeing someone through the image we have of the group or category of people to which the other belongs or is taken to belong. These kinds of looks always already know who they are dealing with. In both cases – the distorted look and the prejudiced look – we are unilaterally defined by someone else; this is in contrast to showing and finding out who someone is in interaction, i.e. bilaterally.17 The distorted look is of course not meant to be disrespectful, but rather the opposite. However, I take it to be so because it is monological; it does not really engage with the other. Ellison’s narrator describes the distorted and the prejudiced look in the following way: “They were me; they defined me. […] They were blind, bat blind, moving only by the echoed sounds of their own voices” (Ellison 1995, 508). The distorted look is a way of not seeing just as well as the prejudiced look is. The one is well meaning, the other not so well meaning. Both are represented among the figures in Invisible Man: And now I looked around a corner of my mind and saw Jack and Norton and Emerson merge into one single white figure. They were very much the same, each attempting to force his picture of reality upon me and neither giving a hoot in hell for how things looked to me. (Ellison 1995, 508)18

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  105 The prejudiced look implies a social invisibilization of the other. You see only your own depreciatory image of the other. The real other person becomes invisible, is covered up by the prejudiced look. Prejudices work as an inner pair of eyes with which you look through your physical eyes and which distorts what you see. The distorted look is also a form of social invisibilization. It also makes someone disappear behind the image you have of him or her, in this case, a well-meaning image; it means forcing someone into a pattern or an identity that is not self-chosen or approved of. That invisibility to which I refer occurs because of a peculiar disposition of the eyes of those with whom I come in contact. A matter of the construction of their inner eyes, those eyes with which they look through their physical eyes upon reality. (Ellison 1995, 3) The characteristics that set you apart – high visibility – may at the same time be that which makes you disappear behind the distorted or prejudiced look – social invisibility.19 Furthermore, the desire to be seen may generate a will to conform to the pattern that the distorted or prejudiced look prescribes. This was the path Ellison’s invisible man followed for a long time until he finally realized that along this path, he would never be himself or find out who he really was. The social origin of the inner eyes – distorting or prejudicing – may be investigated. Let me here just hint at an example of such an undertaking. The example stems from the German social psychologist Harald Welzer in his book on perpetrators, especially during World War II (see Welzer 2007). According to Welzer, the Nazi’s crimes had a specific pre-history. He argues that many Germans went through a secondary socialization process during the years of the Nazi regime which had as a consequence that the German Jews tended to disappear from the moral universe of ordinary people, from their universe of obligations. They gradually came to be seen as people of a radically different kind, in relation to which ordinary moral standards and ordinary moral behaviour were no longer appropriate or expected. A new normalcy was gradually established. By the time of the mass killings, the way that Jewish people were looked upon had been radically changed. The inner eyes of the perpetrators, and the bystanders, had become different than before, and they were looking with these eyes through their physical eyes upon the victims. The real human individuals, in all their complexity, had become invisible.20

5.5 Social Invisibilization as a Form of Bullying Bullying is something that seems to occur in all kinds of social milieus: schools, workplaces, during leisure time. My suggestion is that this phenomenon may take one of two fundamental forms, with a combination

106  Carl-Göran Heidegren of them as a third possibility and being perhaps the most destructive form. I further assume that a self-image is put together out of one’s own image of self and that which others make of and transmit to one. One form of bullying is overt disrespect. In this case, someone is the object of a more or less continuous depreciation and stigmatization in words and deeds. What takes place can be seen as an invasion of the self in the sense that the only image of self that tends to exist is that of the others, and that image is negative. One’s own image of self succumbs to the image that others transmit. Self-contempt, being ashamed of oneself, and insecurity are some of the consequences of recurring invasions. Another form of bullying I call zero-reaction. In this case, someone is deliberately not being noticed or taken into consideration; in short, he or she is being treated as socially invisible. The bullied in this case wants to be somebody but is nobody in the eyes of the others and does not have the strength to fill out the image of self on their own. This kind of invisibility is certainly not experienced as a world of ‘infinite possibilities’ (as in Ellison 1995), but rather as a complete lack of social resonance. A fundamental uncertainty about who you are may be the result of repeated zero-reactions.21 The periodic shift between bullying in the form of invasion and in the form of zero-reaction is eventually the most harmful and destructive form of bullying. In this case, you are completely at the mercy of the others, who may at pleasure shift from demonstratively not taking any notice of you to taking an intense negative interest in who you are and what you do, and back again to non-person treatment. Sometimes you simply do not exist in the eyes of the others, sometimes you are in the focus of a negative interest, and, so it may seem, you can do nothing about it. Periods of social invisibilization are followed by periods of overt disrespect and the other way around. The dramatic step of self-stigmatization may be a possible way to break the vicious circle, but making such a move seems to presuppose the kind of inner strength that recurrent bullying kills off.

5.6 Conclusion My point of departure was that recognition means the affirmation of someone, means taking someone as a person (the genus of recognition). Furthermore, someone may be taken as a person in several different ways (species of recognition). Before moving on to disrespect, I discussed two mediating cases: (a) civil inattention as taking notice of someone but not showing it out of regard for the other person and (b) more or less harmless forms of inattention or simply being absent-minded, having no clear intention at all to hurt or stigmatize someone. Furthermore, it may be argued that social invisibilization is harmful, especially in more egalitarian societies where

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  107 there are widespread expectations of being treated as a person on equal footing with others. To begin with, I made a distinction between two forms of disrespect: - -

overt disrespect (not taking someone as a person in various ways), social invisibilization (taking someone as a non-person). Then between two forms of social invisibilization:

- -

seeing but pretending not to see (intentional), seeing without really seeing (more or less intentional). And finally, between two forms of seeing without really seeing:

- -

the distorted look (well meaning), the prejudiced look (not so well meaning).

Furthermore, one may distinguish between the latter two kinds of looks being directed at an individual as such or as belonging (or taken to belong) to some collective: a certain group or category of people. This is a fourth distinction to be made. Although some authors tend to conceive of social invisibilization as an intensification of overt disrespect, and the latter as a possible stepping stone, being a kind of negative recognition on the way towards an affirmative recognition, I think that it is highly context-dependent whether social invisibility is experienced as a protective shield or as a horrifying abyss into which one may disappear. In the long run, however, it is probably devastating to live a life more or less without having the feeling of being socially visible. This is a life without any social resonance, and this may ruin your very feeling of existence. The main character in Doktor Glas, as we have seen, gives expression to a desperate desire to be seen. A desire to be seen, to have the feeling I do exist, may probably be presupposed to be possessed by all humans, although not necessarily on all occasions. This is why social invisibilization in most cases is experienced as a harm. Self-stigmatization may be a way to provoke others to acknowledge your existence, a way station on the path from the land of shadows into the light of day in which you are seen as someone and, in the long run, for who you really are. Social invisibilization is always performative, but the level of activity involved may differ quite a lot. Whether a very low level of activity should be described as unintentional and nondeliberate or not is a difficult question which I here intend to leave open. To keep in mind is also the moral complexity of invisibility. You may be the victim of social invisibilization, and in this sense, you are being done harm but also, in the footsteps of Invisible Man, “invisibility is indeed something that can be actively cultivated for the purposes of

108  Carl-Göran Heidegren self-definition or political resistance” (Scotland-Stewart 2007, 189) as a way of eluding categorizations. Furthermore, social invisibilization may take on different forms depending upon the kind of society in which it occurs. I distinguished between strongly hierarchical and more egalitarian societies. Besides huge differences in social rank, major differences in terms of wealth may confer a low ceremonial status on people, paving the way for non-person treatment. Finally, also in more egalitarian societies, non-person treatment may be due to something akin to a second nature in the form of a socially constructed distorted or prejudiced look, making it to some extent less deliberate and less reflective. There are doubtlessly human experiences of not being seen that are at the same time experiences of disrespect: ‘No one took any notice of me.’ ‘I was speaking to deaf ears.’ ‘No one really saw me.’ ‘They only saw their own image of me, not the real me.’ Such experiences are a fact of human life. In an almost Kantian vein, it may be asked, How are such experiences possible? Posing this question directs attention to the phenomenon of social invisibilization or non-person treatment as a way of doing something to a fellow being. My ambition in this text has been to sort out some varieties of this phenomenon and to suggest some distinctions to be made.22

Notes 1 I would like to thank the participants at a presentation seminar at the Department of Sociology, Lund University, in the autumn semester of 2017; the participants in the sociological theory group during the Swedish Sociology Days at Lund University in March 7–9, 2018, especially Carl Wilén, who took the time to write down his interesting comments on the text; Laurel ScotlandStewart, at the University of San Francisco, who made her unpublished dissertation available to me; Anna Engstam for a number of very interesting comments on the text; and, last but not least, the participants at the conference “Recognition: Its Theory and Practice” in Helsinki in June 11–13, 2018. 2 Something different are strategies of concealment and reticence as forms of self-invisibilization. “There is much more going on inside us all the time than we are willing to express, and civilization would be impossible if we could all read each other’s minds” (Nagel 1998, 4). 3 He may also discuss the notion on other occasions with which I am as yet unfamiliar. 4 See, for example, Behavior in Public Places: What seems to be involved is that one gives to another enough visual notice to demonstrate that one appreciates that the other is present (and that one admits openly to having seen him), while at the next moment withdrawing one’s attention from him so as to express that he does not constitute a target of special curiosity or design. (Goffman 1963, 84) Civil inattention thus means being discreet, i.e. taking notice of someone without paying any special attention to him or her. This in contrast to both the hate stare and deliberately refusing to see someone. It is a way of being respectful, rather than a way of showing disrespect.

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  109 5 In “The Nature of Deference and Demeanor,” included in Interaction Ritual: Essays in Face-to-Face Behavior (1967), we read, “Classic forms of ‘nonperson treatment’ are found, with staff members [in mental wards] so little observing referential avoidance that they discuss intimacies about a patient in his presence as if he were not there at all” (Goffman 2005, 67). 6 Goffman gives the following quote from a book on American domestic manners from 1832: A Virginian gentleman told me that ever since he had married, he had been accustomed to have a negro girl sleep in the same chamber with himself and his wife. I asked for what purpose this nocturnal attendence was necessary? “Good heaven!” was the reply, “if I wanted a glass of water during the night, what would become of me.” (Goffman 1953, 224) In this case, the girl becomes socially visible for merely instrumental reasons (as a maid), i.e. she is not being taken as a full-fledged person. 7 The gulf between rich and poor tends to have the same effect, as Adam Smith noted in The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759): The rich man glories in his riches, because he feels that they naturally draw upon him the attention of the world … (…) The poor man, on the contrary, is ashamed of his poverty. He feels that it either places him out of the sight of mankind, or, that if they take any notice of him, they have, however, scarce any fellow-feeling with the misery and distress which he suffers. (Smith 1976, 50–51) This and the following quotes are from the sixth revised edition from 1790. 8 The main character in the novel, Doktor Glas, is a man for whom the world has become utterly unresponsive, and especially his relation to fellow humans is deeply disturbed. His primary wish is to perform an act that really makes a difference. For this reason he poisons the husband, a priest, of a young woman with whom he is secretly in love. However, Doktor Glas is not socially invisible, but rather being a physician, his social status in society is recognized as such. Thus, the previous quote is a reflection that is somewhat out of touch with the novel as a whole. 9 Ellison himself describes the novel in terms of “a young Negro’s quest for identity” (Ellison 1995, xiv), a quest which takes him from the rural South to the urban North, to New York and the Harlem riots in 1943. He continually seeks the acceptance and approval of whites, but they refuse to see him for who he really is. The nameless narrator finally takes refuge in the basement of a whitesonly apartment building, living in a coal cellar that is illuminated by more than a thousand light bulbs, an ironic allusion to Dostoevsky’s underground man. 10 Cp. Adam Smith: “[T]o feel that we are taken no notice of, necessarily damps the most agreeable hope, and disappoints the most ardent desire, of human nature” (Smith 1976 [1759], 51). Someone who does not expect or demand to be taken and treated as a person cannot be the victim of non-person treatment from a first-person perspective but arguably can be in a third person perspective. 11 Cp. Voswinkel 2001, 42f. Note that nonrecognition (Nichtanerkennung) is one of two forms of non-recognition (Nicht-Anerkennung). This may terminologically be a bit confusing, but the distinction as such is sound. Voswinkel’s study has been an important source of inspiration for me. 12 Not being taken notice of means a lack of “social resonance” (Wagner 2004, 126). Gabriele Wagner points to struggles for being taken into consideration

110  Carl-Göran Heidegren and argues that, for example, reproductive work at home “to begin with must be raised over the threshold of public invisibility” (Wagner 2004, 127). She furthermore argues that “disrespect in the form of overt contempt is not per se destructive” (Wagner 2004, 126). 13 Scotland-Stewart argues, in a critique of Honneth, that invisibilization is “very often unintentional and non-deliberate.” In these cases, we have to do with “a kind of obliviousness, a failure to attend in the right way to the coping situation at hand.” Such an interpretation, it is argued, allows us to become aware of, for example, more subtle, more institutionalized, less overt, less conscious forms of racism” (Scotland-Stewart 2007, 164ff.). 14 Social invisibilization and silencing, as a parallel phenomenon, are discussed in Herzog (2018) in a way that, however, differs greatly from my approach. Social invisibility contrasts with “conspicuous absenteeism,” i.e. “being visibly non-present,” which may be interpreted as “a display of status and identity” (Scott 2018, 13). 15 Scotland-Stewart talks about being “misperceived” in the sense of not being seen for who you are: “The invisible person both feels herself to really be something other than how she is treated, and at the same time, feels herself to be defined by that treatment in a way that seems inescapable” (ScotlandStewart 2007, 153). 16 What we saw Butler call effacement through representation itself is more precisely a form of seeing without really seeing, a prejudiced look. The term ‘misrecognition’ is here used in the sense of incorrect, not as the translation of the German word Missachtung; for the latter term, I use ‘disrespect.’ 17 This way to put it was suggested to me by Anna Engstam. 18 Cp. Ellison on writing Invisible Man: Most of all, I would have to approach racial stereotypes as a given fact of the social process and proceed, while gambling with the reader’s capacity for fictional truth, to reveal the human complexity which stereotypes are intended to conceal. (Ellison 1995, xxii) All typifications to a certain extent imply a distorted or prejudiced look. The real human being is always more complex than any typification. 19 “Generally, accumulated experiences of racial slights reinforce the perception that perpetrators of these acts are truly blind to the ‘personhood’ of the individual they encounter” (Franklin & Boyd-Franklin 2000, 34). The real person becomes hidden behind “a cloak of psychological invisibility woven by attitudes of prejudice and discrimination on the part of others” (Franklin & Boyd-Franklin 2000, 34). For a fuller treatment, see Franklin 2004. What is called the invisibility syndrome comprises signs and symptoms such as frustration, increased awareness of perceived slights, chronic indignation, pervasive discontent and disgruntlement, anger, et cetera (Franklin 2004, 10–11). 20 Honneth discusses what I here call seeing without really seeing as a form of reification, as a forgetfulness of the primordial form of recognition that he calls existential care. “In the course of our practices, our attentiveness to the fact of antecedent recognition can also be lost if we allow ourselves to be influenced by thought schemata and prejudices that are irreconcilable with this fact” (Honneth 2008, 59; cp. 79ff.). Honneth’s notions of social invisibility and antecedent recognition are critically discussed in Koskinen 2018. 21 Following Hartmut Rosa, alienation may be defined as lack of resonance (see Rosa 2016, ch. 5). According to Scotland-Stewart, “the invisible person quite

Varieties of Social Invisibilization and Non-person Treatment  111 often experiences herself as cut off or disconnected from the world around her,” a “deeply alienating experience” (Scotland-Stewart 2007, 6–7). 22 Another issue is the role that, for example, city planning and the design of public spaces may play in making some people literally invisible, in the sense of non-present, in some places. Perhaps there are also forms of design that tend to make people who are in fact bodily present socially invisible. But that opens up another area of research.

References Butler, Judith. 2006. Precarious Life: The Powers of Mourning and Violence. London & New York: Verso. Ellison, Ralph. 1995 [1952]. Invisible Man. New York: Vintage Books. Franklin, Anderson J. 2004. From Brotherhood to Manhood. How Black Men Rescue Their Relationships and Dreams from the Invisibility Syndrome. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Franklin, Anderson J. & Nancy Boyd-Franklin. 2000. Invisibility Syndrome: A Clinical Model of the Effects of Racism on African-American Males. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry 70(1): 33–41. Goffman, Erving. 1953. Communication Conduct in an Island Community. Dissertation at The University of Chicago. https://cdclv.unlv.edu/mission/ index2.html. Accessed May 20th 2018. Goffman, Erving. 1966. Behavior in Public Places: Notes on the Social Organization of Gatherings. Second edition (first edition 1963). New York: The Free Press. Goffman, Erving. 1990. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Fourth edition (first edition 1959). London: Penguin. Goffman, Erving. 2005. Interaction Ritual. Essays in Face-to-Face Behavior. Second edition (first edition 1967). New Brunswick and London: Aldine Transaction. Herzog, Benno. 2018. Invisibilization and Silencing as an Ethical and Sociological Challenge. Social Epistemology 32(1): 13–23. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Trans. J. Anderson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2001. Invisibility: On the Epistemology of ‘Recognition’. Aristotelian Society Supplementary Volume 75(1): 111–126. Honneth, Axel. 2008. Reification: A New Look at an Old Idea. Tanner Lecture on Human Values. Trans. J. Ganahl. New York: Oxford University Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki 2002. On the Genus and Species of Recognition. Inquiry: An Interdisciplinary Journal of Philosophy 45(4): 447–462. Ikäheimo, Heikki & Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Analyzing Recognition: Identification, Acknowledgement, and Recognitive Attitudes towards Persons. In Recognition and Power: Axel Honneth and the Tradition of Critical Theory, eds. Bert van der Brink & David Owen. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 33–56. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2018. Antecedent Recognition: Some Problematic Educational Implications of the Very Notion. Journal of Philosophy of Education 52(1):178–190. Lipp, Wolfgang. 2010. Stigma und Charisma. Über soziales Grenzverhalten. Second edition (first edition 1985). Würzburg: Ergon.

112  Carl-Göran Heidegren Nagel, Thomas. 1998. Concealment and Exposure. Philosophy & Public Affairs 27(1): 3–30. Rosa, Hartmut. 2016. Resonanz. Eine Soziologie der Weltbeziehung. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Scotland-Stewart, Laurel. 2007. Social Invisibility as Social Breakdown: Insights from a Phenomenology of Self, World, and Other. Unpublished dissertation, Department of Philosophy, Stanford University. Scott, Susie. 2018. “A Sociology of Nothing: Understanding the Unmarked.” Sociology 52(1): 3–19. Smith, Adam. 1976 [1759]. The Theory of Moral Sentiments. Eds. D. D. Raphael & A. L. Macfie. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Söderberg, Hjalmar. 2002 [1905]. Doktor Glas. A Novel. Trans. P. Britten Austen. New York: Anchor Books. Todorov, Tzvetan. 2001. Life in Common. An Essay in General Anthropology. Second edition with a new afterword by the author (first edition 1995). Lincoln and London: University of Nebraska Press. Travers, Andrew. 1999. Non-person and Goffman: Sociology under the Influence of Literature. In Goffman and Social Organization: Studies in a Sociological Legacy, ed. Greg Smith. London and New York: Routledge, 156–176. Voswinkel, Stephan. 2001. Anerkennung und Reputation. Die Dramaturgie industrieller Beziehungen. Mit einer Fallstudie zum “Bündnis der Arbeit”. Konstanz: UVK Verlagsgesellschaft. Wagner, Gabrielle. 2004. Anerkennung und Individualisierung. Konstanz: UVK Verlagsgesellschaft. Welzer, Harald. 2007. Gärningsmän: Hur helt vanliga människor blir massmördare. Göteborg: Daidalos.

6 The Gift Model of Recognition Veronika Hoffmann

To the already enormously complex discourse on recognition, another aspect has been added recently: the question has been raised of what the gift might have to do with recognition. The discourse about gift-giving is a complex one, too, and the areas of research only partly overlap. There are questions about gifts that have nothing to do with recognition and questions about recognition that have nothing to do with gifts. This means that speaking of recognition as a gift is not aimed at outlining a comprehensive, let alone a completely new, theory of recognition. It is about adding a perspective, but perhaps not a marginal perspective. This perspective of the gift is not situated on the level of practices of gift-giving but on a more theoretical level. I will not examine specific practices on their recognitional value. They may serve as examples but as examples of a higher-level discourse on gifts. The question is whether the concept of the gift can serve as a model of recognition. More specifically, I will argue that a certain understanding of gifts can serve as a model of certain processes of recognition. I will try to point out what can be gained by such a model and where its limits are.1 Since the discourse about gift-giving is not yet well known among recognition theorists, I will begin with a brief look at some key developments and questions (Section 6.1). I will then introduce in more detail the two thinkers who most prominently combine gift-giving and recognition: Marcel Hénaff and Paul Ricœur (Section 6.2). After a brief summary, I end with three aspects of the ‘gift of recognition’ that I find especially interesting (Section 6.3).

6.1 ‘Gift’: A Brief Look at Some Key Developments and Questions 6.1.1 The Legacy of Marcel Mauss Just as recognition refers to a vast variety of practices as well as concepts, there is more than one gift – not least because a lot of different disciplines take part in the discussion. Research on gift-giving includes contributions DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-8

114  Veronika Hoffmann from, among others, history, ethnology and anthropology, philosophy, theology, social sciences, psychology, and literary criticism. However, the starting point of almost all theories is Marcel Mauss’ classic text “The Gift” (1923/1924).2 In this study, Mauss relies to a large extent on ethnographic material from traditional societies.3 In these societies, public practices of giving and receiving play a central role. Reciprocal, public, and ritual forms of giving create a social bond; they provide and secure the social cohesion of a group or clan. They are used to engage in alliances with other groups but also with nature, the dead, and the gods. These practices integrate all dimensions of social life and play a crucial role for the identity and the functioning of the community. Mauss (and almost everyone after him who has worked on gift exchange) is particularly interested in the paradox of freedom and the obligation of the gift. Practices of giving are clearly distinguished from economic exchanges, yet every gift demands a gift in return. There seems to be some power in the gift that obligates the receiver – some indigenous people call it the “spirit of the gift,” and since Mauss took this expression up for his explanation of the gift, it has been the topic of an ongoing debate (cf. Hoffmann 2013). But Mauss does not limit himself to the interpretation of so-called archaic gifts. From there he also draws consequences for giving in modern societies, and this is the most controversial part of his book. For he sees gift exchange as a universal phenomenon: despite the functional differentiation of private and public sectors and the privatization of practices of giving, even nowadays the gift has a fundamental significance for social cohesion. Some have accused Mauss of social romanticism because at one point he even interprets the relationship between employers and employees as one of giving, receiving, and giving in return (cf. Schmied 1996, 13). 6.1.2 Philosophy of the (Pure) Gift: Derrida and Marion For some time, the reception of Mauss’ reflections was mostly limited to specialists – structuralists such as Lévi-Strauss or Bourdieu, or an antiutilitarian movement in the French social sciences. The subject began to reach a much larger audience when the French philosophers Jacques Derrida and Jean-Luc Marion took it up in the 1990s. Both contest the seemingly obvious structure of giving, receiving, and giving in return. According to Derrida, a real gift is the exact opposite of an exchange: it must be ‘pure,’ strictly unilateral, not only without a gift in return but even without any expectation of such a return. This means that a pure gift is a figure of the impossible because this purity could only be achieved if the giver himself was unaware that he was in fact giving a gift (cf. Derrida 1992). Marion, on the other hand, conceived of a phenomenology of ‘being given’ – donation – as the modality in which all phenomena

The Gift Model of Recognition  115 appear. This pure givenness appears only by way of a radical phenomenological reduction that brackets the giver, the receiver, and the gift (cf. Marion 2002). 6.1.3 Plurality and Diversity of the Current Research on the Gift Since then, the discourse has broadened considerably and expanded in various directions. Current research on giving is marked by a great variety of disciplines, theoretical approaches, and research questions. For example, there is growing interest in ethical questions, be they concerning, for example, organ donations or development aid. Historical research has shown that the varieties of practices, and the ambivalences of giving, question some of Mauss’ conclusions. As a latecomer to the discussion, theology has also started to review its own uses of the concept of giving. I will briefly come back to that at the end of this chapter. 6.1.4 Key Questions As complex as the whole research field is, some key questions can be identified, the answers to which determine the fundamental structure of every theory of the gift. 1. Is giving basically a unilateral or a reciprocal act? Has a pure gift to be completely disinterested, or is the reaction of the receiver an integral part of it? 2. What is the function of giving? While sociological theories often understand gifts as elements of a symbolic economy, ethical considerations, for example, take them as signs of a concern for the other that goes beyond the demands of justice. 3. Is the core element the object that is given, for example, the goods delivered to people in distress, or is it the practice of giving as a practice of bonding and recognition? 4. In what way can the receiver be said to ‘possess’ the gift? Does it pass into his or her belongings – so that he or she could sell it, for example – or has the relationship between giver and receiver repercussions for the status of the gift given? And what role does gratitude play in all this? To any of these questions, there is no one right answer. It is possible to find examples of different social practices of gift-giving that provide support for very different answers. This highlights the plurality of contexts, functions, and understandings of the gift. It confirms my initial statements that there is more than one form of giving and that therefore there is only a partial overlap between the issues of gift-giving and of recognition. Not every gift has something to do with recognition. But a very important form of the gift has, as I want to show now.

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6.2 The Gift of Recognition: Marcel Hénaff and Paul Ricœur 6.2.1 Marcel Hénaff's Gift: Neither Economic Nor Altruistic Marcel Hénaff (2010a, orig. 2002) starts with the same question that puzzled Mauss and virtually every researcher of gift exchange since: Why is it that gifts are said to be freely given, but at the same time, there seems to be some obligation to reply? According to Hénaff, there are two reasons why this question is still unanswered: 1. Mauss’ question comes too late, as it were. The first question to be asked is not what it means to reply to a gift but what it means to give. 2. The readings of Mauss’ findings have been obscured by our modern understanding of giving: what it is, what it should be. But this modern understanding is simply not applicable to the tribal context of, for example, the Trobriand Isles Mauss extensively refers to. The traditional practices of gift exchange were public and ritual practices between tribes or clans. Ignoring the time and culture gap leads to two fundamental misconceptions of gift-giving that could be called ‘moralistic’ and ‘economic.’ Either: giving is thought of as a unilateral, pure, and altruistic act, at least ideally. Nothing is expected in return. The extreme case would be Derrida’s pure gift, where giving is strictly opposed to every form of exchange (cf. Derrida 1992; and the criticism in Hénaff 2012, 25–54). Or: giving is, on the contrary, regarded as an economic transaction, calculated and self-interested. It may be the archaic forerunner of modern economy or it may be, following Bourdieu, an outward gift with a ‘hidden agenda’ of accumulating social capital (cf. Bourdieu 1998, 92–126). In the first case, the aspect of freedom is accentuated and every obligation to reply denied; in the second case, reciprocity comes at the expense of freedom. Hénaff claims that the public and ritual gifts of traditional societies are outside this moralistic-economic divide. The gift here is neither economic nor anti-economic. It calls for a response without being a trade exchange. It has nothing to do with humanitarian aid, and the point is not the transfer of goods. For this kind of gift-giving, Hénaff takes up Malinowski’s term of the “ceremonial gift” (Malinowski 2014). The central aim of ceremonial gift-giving is the realization of mutual recognition: “What matters is not giving per se but the launching or continuing of a procedure of reciprocal recognition (in the sense of recognizing one another) expressed through precious goods and services” (Hénaff 2010b, 114f.). Therefore, ceremonial gift exchange is not about the handing over of things. These things are not important as goods but as symbols.4 Gifts function as symbols of the giver: by giving something that belongs to me I give something ‘of’ me, of myself. “It is not a question of giving something to someone,

The Gift Model of Recognition  117 but of giving oneself to someone through something” (Hénaff & Mongin 2002, 143, italics in the original). If the gift aims at recognition, and the establishment or continuation of a relationship, only a gift that is reciprocated achieves its goal. This entails a certain obligation on the part of the receiver and a certain risk on the part of the giver. What if the receiver does not reciprocate, what if he rejects the gift? The moment the process of gift-giving has started, there is no neutral ground: accepting the gift and giving something in return means recognizing the giver and entering into a relationship with him. Refusing a gift means offending the giver, and the consequence would often be war between the groups involved. The elaborate rules and the ritualization of ceremonial gift exchange, therefore, serve to minimize this risk of a failed gift and to secure the acceptance of a gift as far as possible. Hénaff uses the metaphor of a game to illustrate the interrelation between freedom and obligation that prevails here. To limit the risk of giving, society provides certain “rules of the game.” But these rules go together with margins of freedom – not least with the possibility of breaking the rules or of refusing to play the game. It is not imperative that someone takes the initiative of giving. And likewise, the answer is not a mechanical reflection but a conscious acceptance of the gift and of the challenge it presents. “What matters is not so much giving back as it is giving in one’s turn, not restituting but taking back the initiative in giftgiving” (Hénaff 2010b, 139, italics in the original). The logic that Hénaff discovers in the ceremonial gift thus consists of a specific combination of gift, reciprocity, and recognition. This logic makes it possible to distinguish a gift of recognition from both charitable and economic practices. It is important to note that Hénaff does not claim that only the ceremonial gift of recognition is a true gift. Rather, there are many forms of gifts. They belong to different social areas, fulfil different functions, and are neither simply variations of the same nor competing alternatives. “The relationship of the gift, even if it is defined in contrast to economic exchange, is not intended to reject it and certainly not to take its place; it takes place on a different level” (Hénaff 2010a, 84). The gift is neither economic nor anti-economic (or even anti-capitalistic), and there is nothing inherently wrong with economic exchange or charitable giving. But these are not the only forms of gift or exchange and most notably the ceremonial gift exchange is not the predecessor of either of them. To have shown this and to have directed our attention to the gift of recognition is Hénaff’s substantial contribution to the study of gift-giving. 6.2.2 Two Problems Hénaff’s important contribution comes with two major problems, though. First, he rightly criticizes most theories of gift-giving for their blindness to historical and social contexts. Philosophical concepts of ‘the’

118  Veronika Hoffmann gift, such as Derrida’s prominent notion, draw their conclusions in part from ethnological research on gift exchange in traditional societies – be it in an affirmative or a critical way – that they then generalize. But according to Hénaff, these premodern gift exchanges as public and ritual practices of mutual recognition no longer exist as such in modern societies. Here the function of the gift has been taken over by other social mechanisms. Membership in the formal community of a state, for example, is no longer dependent on practices of gift exchange. Recognition as a citizen is provided by the law. In modern societies, gift-giving loses its function as a medium of public recognition and is limited to interpersonal relationships, solidarity, etc. Mixing these different levels and functions would lead to confusion and seriously impair the whole approach of a theory of gift-giving: These levels [of gift-giving] cannot be short-circuited without the risk of confusion. One cannot, for example, refer to the forms of exchange of traditional gifts (described by Mauss and many anthropologists) to understand contemporary interpersonal relationships and try to read the same form of generosity in both of them. That is a confusion of types. […] One cannot speak of the protagonists of these exchanges (as philosophers often do) as if they were protagonists of modern societies and as if these practices were primarily to be understood as an intersubjective experience. (Hénaff 2012, 229f.) As a consequence, however, it remains somewhat unclear in what ways exactly the logic of the gift of recognition could still be found in modern societies (cf. Bedorf 2010, 186). In the discussion around his book The Price of Truth, Hénaff has tried to clarify this point by distinguishing three “spheres of recognition”: institutional, social, and (inter-)personal (cf. Hénaff 2009a, 2009b, 2012, 80–88). In the institutional sphere, the practices of gift exchange are replaced by formal recognition through the law and political institutions; “at this institutional level, the requirement of reciprocity has changed into a right to equality” (Hénaff 2009b, 131). The second sphere is that of living together in neighbourly, collegial, etc. relationships in which gifts are exchanged informally and mutual assistance is provided. Hénaff calls the form of giving corresponding to this sphere “solidary” (Hénaff 2012, 67) or “helping gifts” (Hénaff 2009a, 8). The final sphere is that of interpersonal relations in the strict sense. Forms of generosity within close circles of love and friendship are a source of trust and commitment. They can be extended, however, to an attitude of respect for every human being. Here a gift is a one-sided, generous one, approaching the biblical notion of agape. Oddly enough, in these spheres of recognition, Hénaff mixes forms of gifts that he would otherwise like to strictly distinguish: ethical

The Gift Model of Recognition  119 relationships and friendships, for example. And he associates the personal sphere with a gracious gift that does not expect anything in return. So, it seems to me that in terms of the form and function of gift-giving today, his approach loses some of the precision that otherwise makes it so valuable (see also Hoffmann 2013, 238f.). The second problem has to do with the shift of recognition practices from groups to individuals. Hénaff repeatedly marks this shift, but as far as I can see, he does not reflect on the change that is linked to it and that concerns the concept of person. But it would be anachronistic to read our modern concept of person into ceremonial gift exchange in traditional societies. The fundamental change in the concept of person can be seen in the way some forms of ceremonial gift exchange were understood by the participants themselves. There has been much discussion in the field of gift research about the more or less magical notions of an impersonal ‘spirit of the gift’ that possesses the recipient and drives him to give in turn. This notion can be understood as an indication of the absence of any absolute disjunction between persons and things. It is because the thing contains the person that the donor retains a lien on what he has given away and we cannot therefore speak of an alienation of property; and it is because of this participation of the person in the object that the gift creates an enduring bond between persons. (Parry 1986, 457)5 Another example may illustrate this point: one way of creating lasting bonds between groups and preventing violent conflicts in traditional societies is exogamy, the exchange of women for marriage (cf. Hénaff 2014). Exogamy is an excellent form of mutual, gift-oriented recognition between families – but according to our modern understanding, the women concerned are of course far from being recognized, as they are not treated as persons in our sense of the word. In my view, these two problems taken together make it difficult to use Hénaff’s concept of gift and recognition ‘as is’ for the question of recognition in differentiated societies and interpersonal relationships in the twenty-first century. We will see that Paul Ricœur’s reinterpretation of the gift of recognition takes better account of these difficulties. 6.2.3 Paul Ricœur’s Gift: Mutuality and “Agape” Paul Ricœur approaches the question from the point of view of recognition instead of gift. (As far as I can see, he is among the first to do so and definitely the most prominent one to date.) He does so in his last book The Course of Recognition (2005, orig. 2004a) and in this context takes up

120  Veronika Hoffmann and modifies Hénaff’s argument. For Ricœur, the question of gift arises as a consequence of his extensive discussion of Hegel’s and especially Honneth’s theory of recognition. Ricœur considers it a particularly strong point of Honneth’s reflections that he approaches the question of recognition from experiences of disregard. But although he shares Honneth’s view that our striving for recognition has a strong conflictive element, he suspects that in the interpersonal rather than the political sphere, something is missing if recognition only takes the form of a struggle. Does not the claim for affective, juridical, and social recognition, through its militant, conflictual style, end up as an indefinite demand, a kind of “bad infinity”? This question has to do not only with the negative feelings that go with a lack of recognition, but also with the acquired abilities, thereby handed over to an insatiable quest. The temptation here is a new form of the “unhappy consciousness”, as either an incurable sense of victimization or the indefatigable postulation of unattainable ideals. (Ricœur 2005, 218) He therefore wants to supplement the idea of a ‘struggle for recognition’ with the idea of ‘states of peace’ in which we can feel that we are actually recognized, even if only temporarily. These forms of recognition can be explained by means of gift-giving. Ricœur, too, goes back to the question of how freedom and commitment are interrelated in the practice of giving and receiving: This paradox says: How is the recipient of the gift obliged to give back? If he is obliged to give a gift in return if he is generous, how then can the original gift have been generous? In other words, in recognizing a present by giving one in return, does one not destroy the original gift as a gift? If the first gesture in giving is one of generosity, the second, given under the obligation to make some return, annuls the gratuitous nature of the original gift. The systematic theoretician sees the circle, which is once again a vicious circle, as a double bind. (Ricœur 2005, 229) According to Ricœur, however, this double bind can be dissolved if one distinguishes between the level of exchange and the level of the gestures of individuals, between a reciprocity [reciprocité] “that circles above our heads” and a “mutuality [mutualité] that circulates between us” (Ricœur 2005, 230f). ‘Reciprocity’ simply means any form of exchange, be it in the form of the market, a gift, justice, or retribution. The term ‘mutuality’ is reserved for a particular form of exchange which gift-giving represents, and which is characterized by the fact that the partners really connect with each

The Gift Model of Recognition  121 other. Here the perspective of a reciprocity ‘circling overhead’ can be avoided if one emphasizes the risk and the generosity of a first gift and understands a gift in return as an answer that follows in its footsteps. This answer then does not represent a mechanical return in the context of reciprocity but answers generosity with generosity in the context of mutuality. In this way, the practices of giving and responding include an element of agape, of a giving that wants the gift primarily to be accepted more than returned. Also, the mutuality of a phenomenology of the gift can be distinguished from the circularity of an economic exchange that constitutes no real personal encounter. With gift-giving, the persons are not interchangeable, and the gifts are not economically comparable. A symbolic gift of oneself cannot be placed under the heading of equivalence. (If everybody gives him- or herself, are the gifts equivalent or not?) So, the mutuality of gift exchange goes together with the uniqueness of the persons. A gift of recognition is neither a unilateral act nor part of an equivalent reciprocal exchange. That is why Ricœur calls the “second gift,” the answering gift, a “second first gift”: in this perspective, we should seek in the obligation to give back the redoubling of the generosity of the first gift. To consider it as a second first gift: it is the contagion of the generosity of the first gift that creates a debt [dette] without obligation [obligation] and without fault [faute]. (Ricœur 2004b, 158) For Ricœur, receiving is ultimately the decisive point. It stops the movement of gift and counter-gift, so to speak. It separates the circulation into two distinct movements. Giving-receiving and giving-in-return-receiving are not mirror images; they are not transaction A and transaction A′, the same as the partners are not interchangeable. Whether the risk of the first gift was ‘worth it,’ whether the offer is accepted and the recognition symbolically returned depends on this halt of receiving that typically takes shape as gratitude. So gratitude – from one side or the other or both – is one of the surest signs that the gift given and/or received is a gift of recognition. In the end, I believe, everything depends on the middle term of the threefold structure of giving, receiving, and giving it return. […] Gratitude fills out the relation between gift and return gift, in decomposing before recomposing it. It puts the pair give/receive on one side, and that of receive/return on the other. The gap that it opens between these two pairs is inexact when compared with the relation of equivalence for justice, as also when compared with that of buying and selling. (Ricœur 2005, 243)

122  Veronika Hoffmann Ricœur concludes his Course of Recognition by asking, In what way do those ‘clearings’ of realized recognition relate to the ‘struggle for recognition’? On the one hand, the gift of recognition enables an actual experience of recognition. On the other hand, however, these experiences of recognition cannot be more than a break in the struggle – this is why Ricœur speaks of a “clearing” and the temporary “suspension of the dispute” (Ricœur 2005, 245). The experience of the gift, apart from its symbolic, indirect, rare, even exceptional character, is inseparable from its burden of potential conflicts, tied to the creative tension between generosity and obligation. These are the paradoxes and aporias arising from the analysis of the ideal type, which the experience of the gift carries in its pairing with the struggle for recognition. (Ricœur 2005, 245f.) So, experiences of realized recognition and non-calculating mutuality can serve as a temporary relief and a motivation in the never-ending social struggle for recognition. 6.2.4 Hénaff, Ricœur, and the Gift in Modern Times We have seen that Hénaff criticizes most theories of gift-giving for their blindness to historical and social contexts. He explicitly includes Ricœur in this criticism, especially regarding the aspect of agape in his gift of recognition. For in Hénaff’s view, this means implicitly reintroducing a moralist perspective that secretly favours unilateral, altruistic giving. This perspective would be incompatible with a ceremonial gift exchange that aims for mutual recognition (cf. Hénaff 2012, 226–231). As I see it, there is a certain irony here. For the aspects of Ricœur’s reflections incriminated by Hénaff are in my opinion due precisely to the perception of the historical and cultural contextuality of gift-giving that Hénaff himself so vehemently defends. Ricœur puts the question squarely in the context of modern struggles for recognition and consequently modifies the notion of the gift of recognition: the changes that he makes are fundamentally related to the fact that he focuses on gift practices that are no longer carried out in a largely codified manner between clans or tribes, but between individuals who, in the context of a modern society, understand themselves as persons in a way that cannot be assumed in premodern contexts, and who therefore also have greater freedom in shaping these practices. This is the reason for Ricœur’s use of agape and the sharp distinction between ‘reciprocity’ and ‘mutuality’: the initial gift needs a dash of agape so that for the receiver it is not an obligation but rather a call, an invitation. The same holds true for the ‘halt’ of the process that is the act of receiving: the gratitude of the receiver shows that he takes the gift as a

The Gift Model of Recognition  123 token of recognition and that his answer will equally be one of recognition, not of fulfilling an obligation to avoid social sanctions. So, ironically, the very aspects of Ricœur’s theory that Hénaff criticizes help to take the difference between premodern and modern contexts of gift exchange into account. 6.2.5 Gift-Giving and Recognition: A Preliminary Summary My brief overview of some aspects of the discourse on gift-giving and the links to recognition drawn by Hénaff and Ricœur should also make it clear that the discourse on gift-giving comes from a very different theoretical background than the discourse on recognition. While the recognition debate is dominated by Hegel, Honneth, Taylor, and others, the research on gift-giving is primarily centred around historical-anthropological resources on the one hand and French phenomenology on the other. For a long time, there was no significant contact between the two. For instance, Hegel and Honneth figure in Hénaff’s The Price of Truth in a single, critical footnote (cf. Hénaff 2010b, 417f.). Even later, he makes hardly any detailed reference to them, although Honneth invited Hénaff to the Frankfurt Institute for Social Research in 2010. The same applies to Honneth’s critical assessment of Hénaff.6 I will not try to unravel this network of mutual criticism and misunderstandings here. Instead, let me just sum up the two approaches I have presented that connect gifts and recognition: 1. Marcel Hénaff starts from the question of gift exchange and points out that certain practices of gift-giving need to be understood in terms of recognition. 2. Paul Ricœur starts from reflections on recognition and concludes these reflections with the idea that certain forms of gift-giving can serve as models for forms of recognition. Experiences of recognition where it is given, not fought for, represent experiences of realized, albeit provisional recognition. Both thinkers proceed cautiously in their complex field and give us some helpful distinctions. Especially important among these are 1. with regard to recognition in the context of gift-giving, the difference between economic exchange, altruistic giving as support, and symbolic practices of recognition; 2. with regard to gift-giving in the context of recognition, the fundamental difference between public or institutional forms of recognition, and social or interpersonal ones. Thus, the partial intersection of gift and recognition helps develop a more nuanced picture of the variety of forms and functions in both areas.

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6.3 Recognition as Gift: Three Perspectives 6.3.1 Theology of the Gift: God’s Primordial Gift of Recognition Finally, I would like to point out three interesting aspects that arise from the linking of giving and recognition. I would just like to briefly mention the first, as it is not the primary focus of this volume: what interests a systematic theologian in the gift of recognition? For theology, the model of the gift is helpful in a number of fields (cf. Hoffmann 2009, 2013). A central theme is the long-standing debate about what we understand by grace and the relationship between God and man described therein. Understanding grace as recognition is a very fruitful approach but only works when it is not a matter of formal institutional recognition but of interpersonal recognition. The form of the gift grasps the mediated character of this kind of recognition. But most importantly, it can fruitfully combine the absolute priority of unconditional recognition of God and the role of the human response. Finally, the fundamental religious perspective can be formulated as the hope that realized recognition is not only experienced as ‘suspension of the dispute’ but also the deepest reason for our existence. 6.3.2 Gifts and Rights A second aspect concerns the difference between gifts and rights. One can certainly argue about Ricœur’s question to Honneth of whether there could be a “bad infinity” of the struggle for recognition – especially since, as far as I can see, Honneth has meanwhile shifted the emphasis of his theory in this regard, now prioritizing the experience of realized recognition over the struggle for recognition triggered by experiences of disregard (cf. Bedorf 2010, 66–70; Hoffmann 2013, 265f.; Honneth 2003, 2005; Laitinen 2011, 46). But the distinction itself, as it derives from Ricœur’s reflections, is a helpful instrument of differentiation: there are forms of recognition that one can fight for as rights, and there are those that cannot and need not be won or gained but are freely given. There are considerable problems if this difference is not taken into account. He who demands a right where recognition can only be given as a gift destroys it. The demand makes the gift virtually impossible. It is also fatal when gifts are given where the situation actually concerns rights. Declaring something to which the recipient has a legal claim to be a sign of personal affection means denying him his right and possibly humiliating him. (Such a problem can become a structural one if institutions see themselves as families and thereby blur the structural differences between families and institutions – as can be observed in the Catholic Church.)

The Gift Model of Recognition  125 6.3.3 Gifts, Recognition, and Otherness As a last interesting aspect, I would like to point out the connection between gift-giving, recognition, and otherness. Once again, the example of exogamy can make clear what this is all about. We have seen that exogamy figured centrally in forming alliances between groups and communicating mutual recognition. If marriage is forbidden within the clan or the community, the group is prevented from isolating itself. It cannot gain its identity solely through demarcation; it must look for alliances with others. But the case of exogamy also shows a limit to this practice of recognition. For here the recognition of the other can only happen in such a way that the stranger becomes a member or an ally. A foreign group from which women have been taken into one’s own group through marriage is no longer a foreign group but one to which one is related. When you enter into a gift exchange with a stranger, he stops being a stranger. ‘Foreign’ is by definition someone with whom one has not yet exchanged gifts or who has refused the exchange of gifts. Every stranger is a potential enemy, but the danger of enmity is averted by the stranger becoming a friend, an ally, a relative. This means, however, that within the framework of the ceremonial gift, there is no recognition of the other as another who remains and can remain another. Here, too, gift exchange differs from economic exchange, as it is characteristic of the latter that in a purchase or exchange transaction the difference between a neighbour and a foreigner does not matter. But in this, ceremonial gifts differ above all from modern concepts of legal recognition and from an ethics in which the other is to be respected in his otherness (cf. Hénaff 2010b, 395–404). Insofar as recognition is aimed at community, it leads to the assimilation of the foreign other. This can be an intended effect but also a problematic one. This opens up a wide field which I have no further scope to deal with here but which I would at least like to mark as a follow-up question: namely, what recognition brings about and what it should bring about – be it as something that has been achieved or that has been given.

Notes 1 The discourses on gifts and on recognition share the problem of semantic and conceptual demarcations (cf. Ikäheimo 2014, 7–9; Laitinen 2009). A simple comparison of expressions in different languages shows that semantics shouldn’t be overrated. For example, much has been made of the German expression ‘es gibt’ in terms of an ontology of the gift. But here is the problem: ‘Es gibt’ is translated into English as ‘there is’ (‘There is a lot of food’) and into French as ‘il y a.’ The simple translation makes the gift disappear. On the other hand, the French say ‘la fenêtre donne sur la cour’ (literally: ‘the window gives to the courtyard’), while German windows seem to be less generous: they do not give anything. The German window ‘goes’: ‘Das Fenster geht zum Hof.’ In the same manner, the English ‘recognition,’ the German

126  Veronika Hoffmann ‘Anerkennung,’ and the French ‘reconnaissance’ do not cover the same semantic field. So, it could be more promising to take concepts and phenomena as a starting point rather than semantics. 2 Mauss (1924) (reprinted as book in 1950. Engl. Mauss 1954). This text has been interpreted in so many different ways that it has elicited ironical comments: Mauss’s essay has acquired for anthropology many of the qualities of a sacred text. It is treated with reverential awe, the greater part of its teachings is ignored, and it is claimed as the fons et origo of quite divergent theoretical positions. (Parry 1986, 455) For an overview of the reception of Mauss’ essay, cf. Moebius and Papilloud (2006); Moebius (2010). For the complexities of the research area on the gift, cf. Silber (2007). For a good overview of the major contemporary approaches, cf. Saarinen (2005), 15–35. 3 “Traditional societies” in the understanding of Mauss (and Hénaff) are “the ones in which the essence of social relationships and statutory positions is determined by kinship systems” (Hénaff 2010b, 108). 4 Hénaff and Mongin (2002, 144) point out that these goods are normally not useful objects of daily use but luxury goods such as jewellery or festive food. 5 Contrary to most researchers, Parry denies, though, that the obligation to return is related to this notion. 6 Cf. Honneth (2010). See this issue of WestEnd as a whole for the controversy. Hénaff answered some of Honneth’s criticisms in Hénaff (2016). (The volume also contains a French translation of Honneth’s original article.)

References Bedorf, Thomas. 2010. Verkennende Anerkennung: Über Identität und Politik. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Bourdieu, Pierre. 1998. Practical Reason. On the Theory of Action. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Derrida, Jacques. 1992. Given Time. Vol. 1, Counterfeit Money. Trans. P. Kamuf. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Hénaff, Marcel. 2002. Le prix de la verité. Le don, l’argent, la philosophie. Paris: Librairie Decitre. English edition: Hénaff, Marcel. 2010a. The Price of Truth: Gift, Money, and Philosophy. Trans. J.-L. Morhange. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Hénaff, Marcel. 2009a. Anthropologie der Gabe und Anerkennung: Ein Beitrag zur Genese des Politischen. Journal Phänomenologie 32(1): 7–19. Hénaff, Marcel. 2009b. Gift, Market, and Social Justice. In Against Injustice: The New Economics of Amartya Sen, eds. Reiko Goto and Paul Dumouchel, 112– 139. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hénaff, Marcel. 2010b. Die Welt des Handels, die Welt der Gabe. Wahrheit und Anerkennung. WestEnd: Neue Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 7(1): 81–90. Hénaff, Marcel. 2012. Le don des philosophes: Repenser la réciprocité. Paris: Seuil. Hénaff, Marcel. 2014. Don cérémoniel, paradoxe de l’altérité et reconnaissance réciproque. Revue d’éthique et de théologie morale 281: 53–71. Hénaff, Marcel. 2016. Sur l’anthropologie du don, l’institution du politique et la reconnaissance sociale. Réponse à Axel Honneth. In Donner, reconnaître,

The Gift Model of Recognition  127 dominer: Trois modèles en philosophie sociale, eds. Louis Carré and Alain Loute, 41–63. Villeneuve d’Ascq: Presses Universitaires du Septentrion. Hénaff, Marcel and Mongin, Oliver. 2002. De la philosophie à l’anthropologie: Comment interpréter le don? Entretien avec Marcel Hénaff. Esprit 282(2): 135–158. Hoffmann, Veronika (ed.). 2009. Die Gabe – ein “Urwort” der Theologie? Frankfurt am Main: Lembeck. Hoffmann, Veronika. 2013. Skizzen zu einer Theologie der Gabe. Rechtfertigung – Opfer – Eucharistie – Gottes- und Nächstenliebe. Freiburg: Verlag Herder. Honneth, Axel. 2003. Unsichtbarkeit: Stationen einer Theorie der Intersubjektivität. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Honneth, Axel. 2005. Verdinglichung: Eine anerkennungstheoretische Studie. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Honneth, Axel. 2010. Vom Gabentausch zur sozialen Anerkennung: Unstimmigkeiten in der Sozialtheorie von Marcel Hénaff. WestEnd: Neue Zeitschrift für Sozialforschung 7(1): 99–110. Ikäheimo, Heikki. (2014). Anerkennung. In Grundthemen Philosophie series. Berlin: De Gruyter. Laitinen, Arto. 2009. Zum Bedeutungsspektrum des Begriffs “Anerkennung.” Die Rolle von adäquater Würdigung und Gegenseitigkeit. In Anerkennung: Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie (Sonderband 21), eds. Hans-Christoph Schmidt am Buschand Christopher F. Zurn, 301–324. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Laitinen, Arto. 2011. Paul Ricœur’s Surprising Take on Recognition. Études Ricoeuriennes/Ricoeur Studies 2(1): 35–50. Malinowski, Bronislaw. 2014 [1922]. Argonauts of the Western Pacific: An Account of Native Enterprise and Adventure in the Archipelagos of Melanesian New Guinea. London and New York: Routledge. Marion, Jean-Luc. 2002. Being Given: Toward a Phenomenology of Givenness. Trans. J. L. Kosky. In Cultural Memory in the Present series. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Mauss, Marcel. 1924. Essai sur le don: Forme et raison de l’échange dans les sociétés archaïques. Paris: L’Année sociologique n.s., 1923/1924, 30–86. English version: Mauss, Marcel. 1954. The Gift: Forms and Functions of Exchange in Archaic Societies. Trans. I. Cunnison. London: Cohen & West. Moebius, Stephan. 2010. Von Mauss zu Hénaff: Eine kleine Wirkungsgeschichte des Essai sur le don. WestEnd 7(1): 68–80. Moebius, Stephan and Papilloud, Christian (eds.). 2006. Gift – Marcel Mauss’ Kulturtheorie der Gabe. Wiesbaden: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften. Parry, Jonathan. 1986. The Gift, the Indian Gift and the ‘Indian Gift’. Man 21(3): 453–473. Ricœur, Paul. 2004a. Parcours de la reconnaissance: Trois études. Paris: Stock. English edition: Ricœur, Paul. 2005. The Course of Recognition. Trans. D. Pellauer. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Ricœur, Paul. 2004b. Phénoménologie de la reconnaissance – Phänomenologie der Anerkennung. In Facettenreiche Anthropologie: Paul Ricœurs Reflexionen auf den Menschen, eds. Stefan Orth and Peter Reifenberg, 138–159. Freiburg: Verlag Karl Alber. Saarinen, Risto. 2005. God and the Gift: An Ecumenical Theology of Giving. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press.

128  Veronika Hoffmann Schmied, Gerhard. 1996. Schenken: Über eine Form sozialen Handelns. Opladen: VS Verlag für Sozialwissenschaften. Silber, Ilana F. 2007. Registres et répertoires du don: Avec mais aussi après Mauss? In Don et sciences sociales: Théories et pratiques croisées, ed. Eliana Magnani, 123–243. Collection Sociétés series. Dijon: Éditions Universitaires de Dijon.

Part II

Political Practice and the Theory of Recognition

7 Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition Christopher F. Zurn

This chapter recommends recognition theory as one useful tool in the diagnosis of the recent rise in two pathologies of democracy, specifically the surging success of populist politicians and parties across many consolidated democracies, and increases in the social polarization of citizens along partisan lines in several of those nations. Undoubtedly, diagnosing recent populism and polarization is an extensive and multi-faceted endeavour involving both empirical questions about the causes and expected dynamics of these developments, and normative questions about how political movements that increase the energy and engagement of ordinary citizens might nevertheless be properly understood as fundamentally undermining democracy. For present purposes, this chapter will need to background much of this analysis. First, it simply follows much of the literature – without further supporting argument given here – by supposing that populism and polarization are normatively problematic given their de-democratizing and anti-democratic effects when empowered: e.g. governing incompetently, undermining informal yet fundamental democratic norms, disempowering civil society and intermediate associations, substituting demagogic rhetoric and invective for reasoned deliberation, reversing trends towards pluralistic and multi-ethnic inclusion, and hampering broader democratic cooperation throughout society. Second, the chapter takes up only one kind of causal factor among several that would need consideration for a full explanation of the timing and cross-national variance of the rise of such democratic pathologies. Hence, while it seems evident that many types of social transformations must be given their due in a full explanation – in mass media, communications technologies, and political public spheres; in the political institutions of representative democracy; in the relationship between states and economies; and in economic structures impacting labour, globalization, finance, and especially the banking crises and recessions of the first decade of the twenty-first century – this chapter will focus on changes in the recognition order and social-psychological reactions to those changes as key causal drivers fuelling populism and polarization.1 DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-10

132  Christopher F. Zurn The chapter recommends a recognition theoretic account tying together social changes, moral psychology, and politically powerful social dynamics of identity (Section 7.3). It also argues that recognition theory provides an understanding of the specific political psychology supporting populism and polarization that does not treat the actual supporters as mere passive victims of blind emotion, but rather as motivated by distinctly moral experiences of misrecognition and as making claims for recognition to the broader society (Section 7.4). Before that, Sections 7.1 and 7.2 document and define contemporary populism and identity-based partisan polarization, respectively.

7.1 Resurgent Populism 7.1.1 Documenting Populism It is now clear that there has been a significant recent increase in the popularity and influence of populist politicians and parties across a range of different nations with both developed economies and consolidated constitutional democracies. In particular, populism is on the rise in three main regions – Latin America, Europe, and North America – though not as clearly in other regions such as East Asia and Southeast Asia. Populism comes in both leftist and rightist ideological strains, but the most striking gains in both popularity and actual political power recently have tended to accrue to more conservative strains. Across Europe, the average share of the vote for populist parties in national and European parliamentary elections has more than doubled since the 1960s, from around 5.1% to 13.2%. During the same era, their share of seats has tripled, from 3.8% to 12.8%. (Norris 2017, 14) Like decadal trends are evinced in Latin America. But the last years especially have witnessed the striking electoral capture of governments by populists: the League and the Five Star Movement in Italy (2018), Donald Trump in the United States (2016), the Brexit vote in the United Kingdom (2016), Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines (2016), the Law and Justice Party in Poland (2015), Syriza in Greece (2015), Viktor Orbán of the Fidesz-KDNP party and the Jobbik party in Hungary (2010), Evo Morales in Bolivia (2006), Hugo Chávez, succeeded by Nicolás Maduro, in Venezuela (1999). Yet the incidence of populism is variegated, with quite different fortunes even across similar national pairs. Compare populist influence in the United States vs. in Canada, Great Britain vs. Australia, Bolivia vs. Mexico, Austria vs. Norway, the Philippines vs. South Korea. Particularistic explanations of the success or failure of this or that populist or party are clearly insufficient in the face of this recent and widespread, even if variegated, resurgence of populism.

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  133 7.1.2 Defining Contemporary Populism I largely follow the work of Jan-Werner Müller and John B. Judis in conceptualizing populism and its two significant variants (Judis 2016; Müller 2016). To begin, I would suggest that we should understand populism in terms of a specific rhetorical logic – a specific way of structuring one’s political pitch to voters – rather than in terms of either ideological characteristics or in terms of demagoguery. To reject ideology as a basis for theorizing populism, one need simply look at the previous list of recent populists to realize they range across almost the full diversity of policy alternatives and value constellations currently available. There simply is no single policy preference, common value orientation, nor any family resemblance cluster of such that could unite these disparate politicians and movements, politicians and movements that we nevertheless have little hesitancy in understanding as distinctly ‘populist.’ Eschewing ideological definitions also makes better sense of the way particular populist politicians evince remarkable policy and ideological flexibility, moment to moment and over time. Alternatively, while demagogic irrationality or overtly emotional appeals may well be characteristic of all those we acknowledge as populist, it simply will not do to distinguish it from most political actors and parties in representative democracies. In short, demagoguery is not the sole possession of populism. Populists are, however, identifiable by a specific form of political appeal that populists alone make when seeking voter support. With a significant nod to Müller, let me identify four characteristics of the rhetorical logic of populists. First, populism is put forward as an insurgency of ordinary folks fighting against the establishment or the status quo. As an insurgency, political conflict is portrayed as zero-sum: one side or the other will win and winner takes all, with no possibility of mutually beneficial transactions or compromises. Second, that insurgency implies a basic dyad that is crucial to populism – namely, the people versus elites. Elites might be political elites, or economic elites, or cultural elites, or some combination thereof; by contrast, the people are styled as ordinary, everyday people without significant individual power. Yet, as Müller convincingly argues, there is more to the appeal than merely an insurgency of the people against the elites: after all, people’s insurgencies are the characteristic rhetoric of all democratic revolutions (e.g., Müller 2016, 2, 7–11, 20, 22, 38). Yet I think we should hesitate to say that the French or American revolutions were distinctly populist simply because they used the rhetoric of popular insurgency against those in power. So what else? Third, there is a distinctive kind of moralizing rhetoric. In the populist narrative, elites are portrayed as corrupt and self-serving such that politics becomes a moral crusade against evil or corrupt individuals occupying positions of power. The moral fable continues by painting the people as alone pure and above reproach. Furthermore, there is in this narrative a somehow quasi-mystical entity – the People – that is moralized

134  Christopher F. Zurn as unified, pure, and the ultimate source of legitimacy. There are of course other persons, but they are somehow morally compromised in comparison with the People: impure, inauthentic, fake, evil, or corrupt. Hence on the populist tableau, politics is a moral battle between the good national unity of true citizens against morally deficient but still powerful individuals. This leads to the fourth key feature, emphasized by Müller as criterial: populist politicians and parties claim to be the exclusive representatives of the People (Müller 2016, 7–40). Proclaiming that ‘only I can speak for the people, I alone represent the People,’ populist politicians exclude any potentially competing claimants to represent either the citizenry as a whole or any subset of it. Hence populism is essentially anti-pluralist: there can be no legitimate opposition, no political opponents who might also raise a legitimate claim to representation. There is only the populist politician or party as exclusive representative of the people; all others are designated perforce as fake, illegitimate, or morally corrupt threats to the integrity of the people. It is this distinctive combination of four features that I think characterizes populism: (1) an insurgency of (2) the people against elites, where politics is (3) a moral crusade to expunge the morally corrupt from power so that (4) the exclusive representative can rule in the name of the unified People. It is important to point out here that populism as a political rhetoric only makes sense in the context of a representative democracy where the foundational idea is that rulers gain legitimacy only through actually representing the will and preferences of the demos. The populist uses this basic democratic logic in a special way: I/we alone exclusively represent the authentic People and have the exclusive claim to rule as a result of that; all others are simply non-representative. Let me now turn to an important difference between two forms of populism – two-pole versus three-pole – articulated by Judis (2016, 14–16). It turns out that while dyadic populism is quite typically left wing, triadic populism is right wing. Dyadic populism is formulated around the basic opposition between elites and ordinary people. Triadic populism hinges on an opposition between the authentic people and two opponents: elites and inauthentic, impure, ersatz, or somehow traitorous persons who live among, but are not of, the People. The usual rhetorical logic here is that elites somehow favour or protect these inauthentic persons and their selfserving or positively evil/traitorous goals. Hence along with standard populist fulminations against the corrupt elite, the triadic populist politician must also clearly identify the fake persons, point out the ways they pose a threat to the People, and intimate that elites need to be disempowered in order to neutralize the threat posed by ersatz persons. When he was a presidential candidate for the nomination of his political party, Donald Trump phrased the curious rhetorical bifurcation of the citizenry required for triadic populism rather brilliantly: “The only important thing is the unification of the people – because the other people don’t mean anything.”2

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  135 Of course, different triadic populists in different nations with different socio-cultural histories and political contexts will pick out different groups of persons to demonize as ersatz and threatening. In the United States, former president Donald Trump’s objects of scorn were legion, but he showed a particular fondness for repeatedly identifying Mexican immigrants and Muslims as deep threats to ‘real’ Americans while using ‘dog-whistle’ insinuations that African Americans are also threats.3 Consider that the only three real policy suggestions during his 2016 campaign were (a) ‘drain the swamp’ (overthrow the corrupt elite power structure in Washington, DC), (b) ‘build the wall,’ and (c) the ‘Muslim ban’ (physically keep people of colour from polluting the pure People). By contrast, Rodrigo Duterte in the Philippines has risen as a geographical outsider running against the corrupt elite ensconced in the metropole Manila and demonizing drug users throughout the population as so evil as to be worthy only of extra-judicial state murder. Nigel Farage, in leading the way to the Brexit vote, attacked both national and transnational elites (Westminster and Brussels bureaucrats) even while inveighing against the “fifth column” of Muslim immigrants intending to “change who we are and what we are” (Mason 2015). Victor Orbán in Hungary has quite successfully combined an anti-Semitic attack on ‘liberal internationalist’ elites (especially the Hungarian-born George Soros) in the name of the true Hungarian people with an attack on Muslim refugees through forceful strengthening of borders, especially during the European refugee crisis of 2015. I think these examples can be easily multiplied: there is a strong tendency for right-wing populism to make use of the triadic logic that Judis identifies. Said in a less anodyne way, triadic populism, currently resurgent through much of the developed world, is fuelled by particularly toxic forms of exclusionary prejudice, nationalism, racism, xenophobia, and general dehumanization of marginalized groups. In contrast, left-wing populism tends to revolve around two poles. Consider Chávez in Venezuela: the crux of his ‘Bolivarian’ revolution is an attack on corrupt capitalist elites but with no clear scapegoating of marginalized third parties as ersatz or traitorous ordinary persons. Evo Morales in Bolivia even more clearly demonstrates the dyadic form of populism: a socialist critique of capitalist and imperialist elites but in the name of an inclusive multi-ethnic, multi-national, people that comprises both indigenous and colonially descended persons. The language of dyadic populism is still that of a popular insurgency engaged in a zerosum moral crusade with only one person/party exclusively representing the People – and so it is still a deeply anti-pluralist form of democracy – but it tends to lack three-pole populism’s reactionary demonization of marginalized groups as somehow a threatening internal presence in the body politic.

136  Christopher F. Zurn

7.2 Rising Partisan Polarization A core objective of all forms of populism is the active formation of a unified political identity – the People – and hence the consolidation of all political demands and issues around an oppositional ‘us vs. them’ dynamic. It strikes me that another notable recent political phenomenon – the rise and intensification of social identity-based political polarization – exhibits a quite similar dynamic since such polarization involves tribalistic political loyalties that are structured around zero-sum conflicts between partisan groups. A significant increase in polarization among the public over the last two decades in the United States is an extensively studied and debated phenomenon; my anecdotal sense is that similar dynamics are at play in Europe and Latin America. I take my cue from Lilliana Mason’s reframing of debates in political science about the extent and character of polarization among ordinary citizens in the United States (Mason 2018).4 Recent research has pointed to a fascinating divergence: on the one hand, American voters have remained noticeably moderate and unpolarized in terms of their substantive policy positions (Fiorina and Abrams 2008). On the other hand, it seems quite clear that partisan sorting, with high levels of partisan animosity, has elevated substantially amongst the American electorate. Americans increasingly think of themselves on one political team or the other, with increasing identification with fellow partisans and increasing hostility towards those identified with the other political party. In short, we are witnessing the puzzle of a policy moderate population, increasingly polarized by party identity. To analyze this puzzle, Mason distinguishes between issue-based polarization and ‘social polarization’ based on social identities. While the former indicates divergence between groups of voters based on their attitudes towards policy alternatives, the latter “focuses on people’s feelings of attachment to a group of others” (Mason 2018, 17). Here Mason adopts a relatively simplistic group-focused model of identity and the social dynamics of group conflict: I have a social identity when I identify with a group and invest emotionally in the differences between my group and other groups. Mason’s book opens with a 1954 experiment run on fifthgrade boys, where students were arbitrarily assigned to rival teams and quickly evinced tribalistic emotions, cognition, and behaviours; she repeatedly insists on the analogies between these boys and contemporary American citizens. Both exhibit strong group preferentiality – judging ingroup persons more favourably than outgroup persons – as well as a range of cognitive biases and artificially heightened conflictual affect: “Social polarization is defined by prejudice, anger, and activism on behalf of that prejudice and anger” (Mason 2018, 4). In a crucial second step, Mason (2018) argues that Americans have increasingly sorted into two teams, where several of their different social

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  137 identities all line up together – political party, along with race and ethnicity, class, religion, cultural preferences, geography, and so on. This means both that the membership of the two main parties has become increasingly socially homogeneous and that any of an individual’s social identities – say as a city resident – also acts as a better proxy for one’s partisan identity – as a Democrat. As one’s partisan identity also becomes an overall organizer of one’s other social identities – as politics becomes our ‘mega-identity’ – politics itself becomes less about policy differences and ever more about one’s own team simply being victorious. Recall Trump’s frequently repeated line: “[W]e will have so much winning if I get elected, that you may get bored with winning.” As Mason shows through a capacious data set, political disagreements in the United States are no longer organized by policy differences, but rather by group animus first, where avowed policy preferences are determined largely by team membership rather than policy substance – a tribalistic politics of us versus them, dominated by anger and resentment. The increased social identity sorting and polarization in American politics Mason identifies are, to my estimate, wholly of a piece with the emotional dynamics driving the recent rise of populism discussed earlier. However, Mason’s simplistic model of identity formation and intergroup conflict gives no deeper explanation of the phenomena she isolates than adverting to general propensities of human psychology: “Humans are hardwired to cling to social groups” (Mason 2018, 9). Further, without such depth and specificity, important further explanatory questions about timing and cross-national comparisons remain under-addressed in her work. Why is this particular bit of human psychology so susceptible to being awakened and used politically now, whereas it was more muted before? Do we see similar increases in partisan identity-based polarization in other nations? Does the timing of increases in polarization and in populism line up, and in different nations?5 There is a fascinating research agenda here, one that could shed much light on the character of the present political configuration.

7.3 Moral Psychology and Social Dynamics To be sure, decent explanations for the wide yet variegated success of populism across different consolidated democracies and for the increasing degree of us-versus-them partisan polarization would need to factor in a variety of causal factors: changes in the culture, specifically the political public sphere; weakening of traditional governance institutions in representative democracies; economic changes, both longer term (e.g. rising inequality, declining real incomes) and more recent (i.e. financial crises and the Great Recession); and societal changes in the status order that occasion reactionary social responses. As that multi-causal account is well beyond the scope of this chapter, I focus in this section on the last

138  Christopher F. Zurn factor, recommending a recognitional account of the moral psychology and social dynamics of reactions to societal change. 7.3.1 Evaluative Emotions and Social Identity Explanations for the rising prevalence of populism will need to refer to some account of political or social psychology since populist politicians and parties typically feed off of and in turn stoke various negative social affects. Supporters of both dyadic and triadic populism are motivated by anger and outrage at corrupt elites and the governing status quo, by anxiety and fear concerning one’s material prospects, and by indignation at perceived injustices. Right-wing populism is fuelled by these and by additional social emotions: nostalgia for a presumed past of better prospects and fairer relations, frustration that previously marginalized groups appear to be advancing while one’s own group stagnates, resentment of the perceived collusion of elites with disfavoured groups, indignation at perceived disrespect from elites, and, undeniably, varying combinations of exclusionary prejudices such as nationalism, xenophobia, racism, misogyny, and homophobia. Taking a cue from the concurrently rising prevalence of partisan polarization, it seems that decent explanations will also need to account for the greater salience of political group identities and, in particular, a new form of ‘mega-identity’ analyzed by Mason: an identity strongly committed to zero-sum partisanship that fuses party loyalty with other social identities of race and ethnicity, class, religion, geography, and even cultural tastes. In short, we need to account for a broad set of powerful moral/evaluative emotions that are playing a key role and to combine this with an account of social identity that can comprehend the group dynamics at work. It seems to me that this is just the kind of combination of moral psychology and social theory that recognition theory is well-suited for. It has a rich picture of the intersubjective location of such evaluative emotions – particularly in terms of the recognition relations between persons – and it systematically connects these evaluative emotions both to individual and collective identities and to potential social and political movements raising claims for better or more complete recognition. Finally, it connects these emotions, identities, movements, and moral claims to an account of social change in terms of transformations in social practices and institutions that are integrated through societally specific recognition orders.6 7.3.2 Universal Political Psychology One particular advantage of recognition theory is its sensitivity to history, as can be seen in contrast with the problematic timelessness of alternative political psychologies of populism centred around universal human

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  139 drives and dispositions (Section 7.5 takes up a second problem with the latter – namely, an untenable methodological denial of citizens’ political agency). Consider first approaches that merely categorize some persons as possessing ‘populist’ or ‘authoritarian’ political psychologies and then attempting to correlate those types with voting patterns, as is often done in the popular press (Rahm and Oliver 2016). This is in the tradition of social psychology inaugurated by The Authoritarian Personality that slices populations into groups depending on their comparative tendencies towards politically relevant affective dispositions and attempting to explain how those tendencies can be combined and exploited by particular political coalitions (Adorno et al. 1950). Yet such approaches can’t help us answer questions such as why populism now (and not at other times)? And why populism here (and not in other places)? Perhaps we should go straight to depth psychology, such as Fromm’s combination of existentialism and psychoanalysis suggesting that, in the absence of old structures of meaningfulness, sadistic and masochistic drives can be skilfully drawn on by authoritarian leaders to overcome individuals’ feelings of isolation and uncertainty (Fromm 1941). Or perhaps we might endorse Zaretsky’s more recent psychoanalytic suggestion that we should diagnose Trumpism as an id-based reaction on the part of Trump supporters against the superego of rational control represented by technocratic elites (Zaretsky 2016). Perhaps this could be extended beyond the United States to account also for rightist movements in Europe, explaining their extreme distrust of (superego) European Union bureaucratic elites as out of touch with real people. Or finally, maybe we could adopt Mason’s relatively simplistic social psychology: a theory of team identification and intergroup conflict as primal human dispositions. However, all these universalistic psychologies are relatively timeless and placeless: enduring characteristics of human sociality cannot yet explain the relevant recent changes in the political efficacy of those characteristics. We need an account that historicizes the phenomena: social-psychological drives or dispositions favourable to populism and polarization may well be permanent possibilities of the human condition, but they have only recently become politically efficacious. Here, recognition theory combined with recent comparative political science of populism can help. 7.3.3 Social Changes in the Recognition Order I would suggest that changes in the normatively integrated social order of intersubjective relations, alongside changes in the economy, political structures, and public spheres play a powerful role in explaining the temporality of these troubling phenomena. The idea, in short, is that populism and polarization are fuelled by reactionary responses against the current social status order on the part of those who feel, in the wake of

140  Christopher F. Zurn substantial social changes, that they have been deprived of their previously higher positions in an older status order. In particular, the older status order, predominately defined in terms of patriarchy and white supremacy – though also by majority religion, sexuality, national origin, and first language – was systematically attacked and undermined as a legitimate basis of differential authority by liberalizing and progressive cultural changes, social movements, political parties, and legal structures. Starting in the 1960s, social struggles to overcome the misrecognition of previously excluded, marginalized, or devalued persons, and thereby to establish the social conditions necessary for their due self-confidence, self-respect, and self-esteem, were carried out through efforts to transform the meanings, symbols, and especially values of the older recognition order. Yet those who benefitted from the privileges of the older system – predominately white men – may in fact resent their loss of status, and this backlash may be energized and put to electoral use by enterprising populist politicians and parties. In short, reactionary nostalgia for a now-displaced social status order rooted in an older system of (mis-) recognition and frustration at the loss of preferential advantage may both be employed, in propitious circumstances, to energize populist politics. One well-supported version of such an explanation has been put forward by comparative political scientists (Inglehart and Norris 2016, 2017; Norris 2017; Norris and Inglehart 2019). Their basic idea is that since the mid-1960s, there has been, in developed Western societies, a ‘silent revolution’ in values away from a major focus on issues of economic and bodily security and toward ‘post-materialist’ values such as gender equality, toleration of ethnic and racial minorities, acceptance of sexual minorities, environmental protection, human rights, multiculturalism, and cosmopolitanism. Notably, all of these value transformations (except for environmental protection) are extremely well theorized in recognition theoretic terms. These significant changes have, however, also been accompanied by a counterrevolutionary retro backlash, especially among the older generation, white men, and less educated sectors, who sense decline and actively reject the rising tide of progressive values, resent the displacement of familiar traditional norms, and provide a pool of supporters potentially vulnerable to populist appeals. (Inglehart and Norris 2016, 3) In short, a changing status order prompts backlash, and that backlash is fuel for populism. And of course, the same story could be told about partisan social polarization, as citizens sort their various social identities into great warring camps, enemies in a zero-sum competition between the older and newer value constellations.

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  141 This is a parsimonious explanatory strategy: namely, combine an account of permanent possibilities of human social psychology – dispositions toward backlash against social change – with a time-indexed account of why the recent growth of populism now – changes in values subsequent to the new social movements of the last six decades. Norris and Inglehart’s 2019 book provides a multi-causal picture, positing a combination of more recent ‘accelerants’ that have increased the combustibility of cultural backlash against the silent revolution of the ’60s and ’70s. These accelerants are, in particular, “medium-term economic conditions” – namely, a combination of multi-decade inegalitarian changes in the political economy with the effects of the financial crash of 2008 forward – “and the rapid growth of social diversity” (Norris and Inglehart 2019, 14), especially due to growing ethnic diversity and immigration in both Europe and the United States. In short, a perennial psychological reaction, provoked by decadal changes in cultural values, motivates even more voters when inflamed by recent threatening economic and demographic changes. This account has much to recommend it. First, it performs well in terms of explaining timing, certainly much better than the universal psychologies canvassed earlier. This is because the recent rise of populism, at least in Europe, started already in the 1970s and then surged after the Great Recession (Norris 2017, 9–12) – timing that also lines up with trends in populism in North and Latin America. Second, the story accounts for the widely observed phenomenon that voters do not actually support populism because of any particular ideological vision or coherent policy preferences, nor is support generated by impoverishment or personal economic tribulations. Rather, there seems to be a core set of social emotions, particularly moral/evaluative emotions, playing a key role: anger, resentment, disrespect, frustration, dislike of strangers, and so on. However, I would suggest that the account’s framing in terms of changing cultural values is insufficiently attentive to the ways in which the rise of populism reflects not merely a clash of older and newer values but more deeply a conflict over society’s recognition order as it is incarnated in actual social practices, institutions, and hierarchies. Changes in ‘cultural values’ then also entail changes in the distribution of the material burdens, benefits, roles, rights, obligations, honours, and symbolic goods of social cooperation. Recognition theory promises a more capacious social philosophy that systematically connects values with institutionalized social orders (Honneth 2014).

7.4 Substantive Claims for Recognition 7.4.1 Psychological Dopes or Agents of Evaluation? Beyond the problem of timelessness, there is a second, and equally serious, problem with the Adorno–Fromm–Zaretsky–Mason line of political

142  Christopher F. Zurn psychologies of populism. In short, each treats supporters of populists as basically powerless clients of their nonconscious psychological drives: they are simply the victims of the ‘populist’ psychological dispositions they are endowed with, or they are compulsively projecting their own traumatic drive conflicts onto political actors, or they are as driven by irrational tribalism as 10-year-old boys when put into all-consuming competition with others. Each of these explanations treats at least some voters as Garfinkel’s ‘psychological dopes,’ marionettes of their nonconscious drives, dispositions, and emotions. Notably, there is usually, in addition, a lack of theoretical parsimony: non-populist citizens are treated as though they have the full gamut of politically relevant capabilities – emotions, yes, but also commitment to values, ability to reason inferentially and weigh evidence, openness to the perspectives of others, desire to cooperate on fair terms with others, and so on – in short, as though they have reasonable political agency. Supporters of populism lack such agency, being merely puppets of their overwhelming psychology. Recognition theory at least holds out the prospects of understanding political actors from the inside, taking seriously both their moral agency and, importantly, considering their stories at face value as making cognizable moral claims. Since the relevant emotions are not simply pure affect but have both conative and evaluative components, and since these sentiments are accompanied by explanatory narratives and evaluative judgements about the rightness and wrongness of social life, it behoves the theorist to take these elements of self-understanding seriously and interpret them as such – rather than explaining them away as mere emanations of unacknowledged and nonconscious psychological drives. Further, a signal strength of recognition theory is that it does not stop at individuals’ moral emotions provoked by interpersonal relations. Rather, it has a developed social theory that explains the dynamics of struggles for social change: when individuals realize that their personal feelings of disrespect are shared by others similarly situated to themselves, the potential exists for developing a movement that goes from individualized outrage to organized social pressure in order to overcome perceived structures of unjustifiable misrecognition. Further, individuals involved are likely to develop social identities where they are invested in and motivated by the similar experiences they have of misrecognition, and they use the collective strength of that social identity to militate for change in the broader society. Note the contrast between this rich account of social identity formation that treats individuals as real agents of their own lives, and Mason’s simplistic account of primal, timeless, and atavistic urges toward intergroup separation and conflict. 7.4.2 Populism’s Manifest Content What then is the manifest content of populism’s recognition claims, or better, what are some of the claims that various supporters of populists

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  143 make? Dyadic and triadic populists in the United States provide some exemplary claims, even if not fully representative. Consider first the self-definition of left-wing populists who spurred a remarkable set of social movement protests in both the United States and around the world: Occupy Wall Street is a leaderless resistance movement with people of many colors, genders and political persuasions. The one thing we all have in common is that We Are The 99% that will no longer tolerate the greed and corruption of the 1%. (Anonymous 2018b) Occupy Wall Street is a people-powered movement that … is fighting back against the corrosive power of major banks and multinational corporations over the democratic process, and the role of Wall Street in creating an economic collapse that has caused the greatest recession in generations. The movement is inspired by popular uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia, and aims to fight back against the richest 1% of people that are writing the rules of an unfair global economy that is foreclosing on our future. (Anonymous 2018a) These statements have almost all of the hallmarks I identified in Section 7.1.2 of classical, dyadic populism: an insurgency of ordinary people versus elites, where political action is a moral crusade to expunge the morally corrupt from power so that the will of the unified people can rule. The only missing element – and it is a crucial one that distinguishes Occupy as a social protest movement from organized electoral politics – is the claim of a party or charismatic candidate as the exclusive representative of the people. But further, and importantly here, there is a clear expression of not only strong emotions – frustration and outrage – but also an accompanying set of cognizable moral-political claims. Hence, this example of populism is not a simple function of nonconscious affects, emotional drives, or atavistic tribalism but is rather formed through a reason-based and cognitively evaluable set of demands for social justice. Those moral claims and demands deserve to be evaluated at face value, even when we as theorists are trying to explain the changing fortunes of various types of politics. Much the same can be said for supporters of triadic versions of populism. A remarkably powerful source for their claims can be found in Arlie Hochschild’s in-depth five-year ethnography of Tea Party supporters in Louisiana, aptly titled Strangers in Their Own Land (Hochschild 2016b). She was interested in exploring the political emotions of her interlocutors – particularly their anger at and hatred of the federal government – and importantly, understanding those emotions from the inside by seeing how

144  Christopher F. Zurn they connect their everyday life experiences with their political claims about the problems with both national and local governments. After her fieldwork, she drew up a representative ‘deep story’ which her subjects then strongly endorsed as, in fact, their own story. This ‘deep story’ clearly demonstrates much of what this chapter has addressed: the rhetorical structure of populism, the structure of megaidentity partisan polarization; concerns about changes in the recognition order of society, the motivating force of politically relevant social emotions, and, finally, the crucial importance of a set of clear normative claims seen as justifying the appropriateness of those emotions. You are patiently standing in a middle of a long line leading up a hill, as in a pilgrimage. Others beside you seem like you – white, older, Christian, predominantly male. Just over the brow of the hill is the American Dream, the goal of everyone in line. Then, look! Suddenly you see people cutting in line ahead of you! As they cut in, you seem to be being moved back. How can they just do that? Who are they? Many are black. Through federal affirmative action plans, they are given preference for places in colleges and universities, apprenticeships, jobs, welfare payments, and free lunch programs. Others are cutting ahead too – uppity women seeking formerly allmale jobs, immigrants, refugees, and an expanding number of highearning public sector workers, paid with your tax dollars. Where will it end? As you wait in this unmoving line, you’re asked to feel sorry for them all. People complain: Racism, Discrimination, Sexism. You hear stories of oppressed blacks, dominated women, weary immigrants, closeted gays, desperate refugees. But at some point, you say to yourself, you have to close the borders to human sympathy – especially if there are some among them who might bring harm. You’re a compassionate person. But now you’ve been asked to extend your sympathy to all the people who have cut in front of you. You’ve suffered a good deal yourself, but you aren’t complaining about it or asking for help, you’re proud to say. You believe in equal rights. But how about your own rights? Don’t they count too? It’s unfair. Then you see a black president with the middle name Hussein, waving to the line cutters. He’s on their side, not yours. He’s their president, not yours. And isn’t he a line-cutter too? How could the son of a struggling single mother pay for Columbia and Harvard? Maybe something has gone on in secret. And aren’t the president and his liberal backers using your money to help themselves? You want to turn off the machine – the federal government – which he and liberals are using to push you back in line. (Hochschild 2016a, 16)

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  145 The translation of this hermeneutic into political activity is not hard to understand: strong support for an insurgent outsider who promises to rewrite the story, to overthrow the corrupt federal government, to turn back the clock to the old status order, to make the economic line ‘fair’ for the older aspirants by excluding the line-cutters, all the while expressing anger towards the progressive elite and their clients for their sneering disrespect towards the traditions and honour of patriarchy and white supremacy – a politician sailing under the banner ‘Make America Great Again.’ As Hochschild puts it, “To white, native-born, heterosexual men, [Trump] offered a solution to the dilemma they had long faced as the ‘left-behinds’ of the 1960s and 1970s celebrations of other identities. Trump was the identity politics candidate for white men” (Hochschild 2016b, 229–230). Supporters of populism – just like any citizen with politically relevant opinions – deserve to have those claims evaluated on their face rather than explained away; I turn next to the substantive morality of recognition theory to do just that. 7.4.3 Misrecognition and Populism I can now clarify how the manifest content of both of the previous stories can be illuminatingly interpreted through recognition theory. In particular, both sets of agents are collectively experiencing certain evaluative emotions, emotions they take to be justified indicators of misrecognition evident in the current social order, where they thereby raise claims to the broader society that social transformations are required to overcome current forms of misrecognition. It is important to stress here that simply making a claim about normatively appropriate recognition does not automatically justify that claim; even less does simply experiencing and collectively expressing an evaluative emotion thereby justify a claim that one is in fact misrecognized. Begin with the Occupy story. The vast majority of ordinary people collectively realize that their political institutions and their economic institutions make various promises that they are not fulfilling. In particular, government makes promises first about democratic forms of collective decision-making but in fact cannot make good on such promises because they have been captured by a small slice of the wealthiest people. In short, the ‘99%’ experience the institutional misrecognition of being denied the appropriate respect as equal democratic citizens. In addition, a capitalist economy promises both a stable environment for meeting individuals’ material needs and a fair distribution of the burdens and benefits of social cooperation. But the actually institutionalized economy has not made good on these promises, as witnessed by a global financial collapse caused by a small slice of the wealthiest people who nevertheless did not bear the costs of their own economic risks. In short, the ‘99%’ experience the

146  Christopher F. Zurn institutional misrecognition of being denied the social conditions of appropriate concern as materially needy individuals and of appropriate esteem as productive participants in a capitalist economy. Notably, despite the radicality of the ways in which they organized and protested, Occupy Wall Street, on my reading at least, did not challenge the fundamental values of the current recognition order nor the promises that the institutional orders make in the light of that recognition order: they essentially called, rather, for the actualization of real democracy and fair capitalism. Turning now to the ‘deep story’ of waiting in line for the American dream, it is perhaps even easier to read its various evaluative emotions as moral recognition claims. Begin with claims about straightforward misrecognition: there is a proper process for advancing towards social and economic fulfilment, but only some (the line-sitters) are required to obey those rules, while others are allowed to unfairly disobey them (the linecutters). Second, according to the appropriate recognition order, sympathy is not owed universally to all, especially since individuals cannot be expected to sacrifice for all those who might be disadvantaged. Compulsory taxation to support all others compounds the misrecognition. Third, there is the claim that line-sitters are not appropriately esteemed for their honourable lack of complaining about their own hardships, while others do receive esteem for their hardships from ‘racism, discrimination, sexism.’ The line-sitters claim, fourth, that the promise of getting ahead by patiently obeying the rules is not being fulfilled by the economic and political systems since ‘you seem to be being moved back’ rather than forward in line. Fifth, there is also the outrage that the government is not fulfilling its promise of fairness and equal rights for all, as it is positively helping the line-cutters to get ahead. Finally, there are two misrecognition claims that indict the current recognition order itself as deficient. There is the claim, sixth, that certain categories of persons should not even be in the line in the first place; specifically that blacks, women, immigrants, refugees, gays, and public-sector workers should not be respected or esteemed on an egalitarian basis. Seventh, this form of misrecognition through deficient values is evinced paradigmatically in a black person with a Muslimidentified middle name being able to graduate from prestigious universities and even be elected president of the United States. To add insult to injury, as it were, Obama is ‘waving to the line-cutters. He’s on their side, not yours.’ These last two claims of Hochschild’s deep story morally indict the recently changed recognition order itself, registering, rather, a strong preference for the older patriarchal and white supremacist status order. It is not my purpose here to evaluate these many different misrecognition claims for their cogency and justifiability. That is the job of public participants, intersubjectively evaluating the reasons and arguments which might be proffered in defence and critique of various substantive political claims made in the public sphere. It is perhaps enough to observe,

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  147 first that diverse populists make diverse claims and, second the noncompossibility of all these claims, particularly those endorsing the currently regnant, inclusive, anti-patriarchal, and egalitarian recognition order and those rejecting it in the name of an older, exclusionary, patriarchal, and supremacist recognition order.

7.5 Conclusions What then does recognition theory contribute to our understanding of populism and partisan identity-based polarization? I have tried to suggest that, first, it provides a more convincing social psychology of some of the motivations behind the enthusiastic support of populist candidates: they are rooted in morally saturated emotions that refer to collective experiences of misrecognition. People are not merely emoting or responding to deep nonconscious drives or being pushed around by tribalism when they express support for insurgent candidates promising to root out elite corruption and restore popular rule. Second, recognition theory provides a convincing social theory of the importance of group identity to the structure of current political movements: social identity is forged through shared experiences of misrecognition and a desire to overcome unjustified treatment, which can be organized into politically efficacious solidaristic movements. It is not just a matter of being artificially separated into teams and then letting the deep and permanent tribalistic components of our basal motivations take over. Group identity is forged rather in collective moral struggles for appropriate recognition involving social processes of hermeneutic articulation and solidaristic collective action. A recognitional approach also sheds light on questions like why populism and polarization now, and why in some places but not in others? As we saw in the discussion of Inglehart and Norris’s research, a key component to the timing of rising triadic populism since the 1970s across the developed nation-states is collective reactions to the revolutionary overturning of an older, more patriarchal, and supremacist recognition order, anchoring more egalitarian values in social practices, institutions, and hierarchies. What Hochschild’s deep story makes clear is that – at least from the participant’s perspective of moral agents making claims about the misrecognition involved between the various groups in line for the American dream – a very substantial reason for the resurgence of rightwing populism must be traced causally to the changing status order that allowed for formerly excluded persons to ‘get in line’ in equal pursuit of the American dream. Yes, the story also includes moralized anger at the perceived disrespect felt in the political public sphere, moralized anger at the corrupt government and its lazy clients, and moralized anger at the economy and its elite beneficiaries. But the moral claims raised in the deep story are centrally structured around a demand to return to an older status order that had a clear hierarchy of differential recognition for

148  Christopher F. Zurn persons with different ascriptive characteristics: where non-whites and women, above all, knew their ‘proper’ place (in a different and subordinate line altogether) and where they were actively and justifiably kept there. To be sure, the concurrent rise of dyadic populism shows that the changing recognition order cannot be the only causal factor involved. Changes towards the tribalization of the mass media, towards the dedemocratization of the formal institutions of politics, and especially longer- and shorter-term economic changes disempowering the working class and empowering the rich surely have all had important impacts. Hence, the central role I have given to the changing recognition order should be seen as entering into a fateful reinforcing causal dynamic with other types of causes. A combustible mix indeed, potentially turning the engaged use of democratic political freedom into its opposite: anti-democratic politics on the way to authoritarian political unfreedom.

Notes 1 An earlier and longer draft of this chapter sketches my approaches to both the normative assessment of, and the multi-pronged casual explanation for, rising populism and polarization. I am very thankful for invaluable feedback provided by participants at conferences in Helsinki (2018), Prague (2017), and Dublin (2016) on these earlier drafts, as well as to the editors of this volume for their insightful assistance. I have not brought all the references to current events up to date from 2018, believing that the basic political phenomena I am pointing to here of resurgent populism and polarization are still quite evident in mid-2021, even as the material circumstances of the world have changed so dramatically in the three intervening years. I leave it as an exercise to the reader to supply the contemporary headlines that continue to demonstrate the problematic anti-democratic influence of populism and polarization. 2 May 7, 2016, cited in Müller (2016, 22). 3 It is insufficiently remarked upon that Trump first made his career as a politically relevant public figure (as opposed to a real estate mogul) through perpetuating racist falsehoods concerning the ‘Central Park Five’ and the ‘birther’ calumny against Barak Obama. 4 I am focused specifically on polarization among the citizenry and not on polarization among elected officials since the latter is heavily influenced by the specifics of individual parliamentary systems. 5 To be clear, Mason has no ambition to do cross-national comparisons; her work is focused on the American political context alone. And while Mason does indeed begin to address the timing questions with a particularistic history of US party re-alignments, I find the approach undertheorized and inapplicable to comparative work. 6 There is much literature here, but one could hardly do better than Honneth (1995) as the locus classicus of recognition theory.

References Adorno, Theodor W., et al. 1950. The Authoritarian Personality. New York: Harper & Brothers.

Populism, Polarization, and Misrecognition  149 Anonymous. 2018a. About Us | OccupyWallStreet.org. http://occupywallst.org/ about/, accessed July 1, 2018. Anonymous. 2018b. Occupy Wall Street | NYC Protest for World Revolution. http://occupywallst.org, accessed July 1, 2018. Fiorina, Morris P. and Abrams, Samuel J. 2008. Political Polarization in the American Public. Annual Review of Political Science, 11, 563–588. Fromm, Erich. 1941. Escape from Freedom. New York: Henry Holt and Company. Hochschild, Arlie Russell. 2016a. The American Right: Its Deep Story. Global Dialogue, 6(3), 15–17. Hochschild, Arlie Russell. 2016b. Strangers in Their Own Land: Anger and Mourning on the American Right. New York: The New Press. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts, trans. Joel Anderson. Cambridge: Polity Press. Honneth, Axel. 2014. Freedom’s Right: The Social Foundations of Democratic Life, trans. Joseph Ganahal. Malden, MA: Polity Press. Inglehart, Ronald and Norris, Pippa. 2016. Trump, Brexit, and the Rise of Populism: Economic Have-Nots and Cultural Backlash. HKS Faculty Research Working Paper Series (Harvard Kennedy School), 53. Inglehart, Ronald and Norris, Pippa. 2017. Trump and the Populist Authoritarian Parties: The Silent Revolution in Reverse. Perspectives on Politics, 15(2), 443–454. Judis, John B. 2016. The Populist Explosion: How the Great Recession Transformed American and European Politics. New York: Columbia Global Reports. Mason, Lilliana. 2018. Uncivil Agreement: How Politics Became Our Identity. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press. Mason, Rowena. 2015. British Muslim “Fifth Column” Fuels Fear of Immigration. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2015/mar/12/nigel-farage-british-muslim-fifth-column-fuels-immigration-fear-ukip, accessed June 15, 2016. Müller, Jan-Werner. 2016. What Is Populism? Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Norris, Pippa. 2017. Is Western Democracy Backsliding? Diagnosing the Risks. Journal of Democracy, Web Exchange, June 26, 2017. Norris, Pippa and Inglehart, Ronald. 2019. Cultural Backlash: Trump, Brexit, and the Rise of Authoritarian Populism. New York: Cambridge University Press. Rahm, Wendy and Oliver, Eric. 2016. Trump’s Voters Aren’t Authoritarians, New Research Says. So What Are They? Washington Post. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/monkey-cage/wp/2016/03/09/trumps-voters-arent-authoritariansnew-research-says-so-what-are-they/?utm_term=.9a1bc8386114. Zaretsky, Eli. 2016. American Id: Freud on Trump. The Huffington Post. https:// www.huffingtonpost.com/eli-zaretsky/american-id-freud-on-trum_b_10105596. html, accessed June 15, 2016.

8 The Environment of Recognition Simon Thompson

Bristol’s Colston Hall, which describes itself as “Bristol’s home of music since 1867,” was named after Edward Colston, a merchant from the seventeenth to early eighteenth century. Colston is regarded as one of the city’s greatest benefactors, but as a member and eventually deputy governor of the Royal African Company, he made his wealth from the business of chattel slavery. In recent years, the source of Colston’s wealth has led to calls to rename the Hall. Following a number of campaigns, including that aiming ‘to Decolonise Bristol,’ it was announced in 2017 that the Colston Hall was to be renamed. In September 2020, it became Bristol Beacon. This sort of case is of course by no means unique. By far and away the best-known contemporary example of this sort of controversy concerns the Confederate statues and memorials of the southern United States. For some commentators, the continuing presence of such monuments is something like a tacit apologia for the institution of slavery. For others, these monuments are an important part of US history and may even be regarded as an expression of the proud independent spirit of the South. Another sort of example can be found in the post-communist states of Eastern and Central Europe. After the fall of the Berlin Wall in 1989, these states had to decide what to do with monuments left over from the communist era. In Budapest, for example, nearly all of these objects were moved to ‘Memento Park’ on the city’s edge. My overall objective in this chapter is to consider whether a theory of recognition could be usefully applied to these controversies and others like them. For example, does it make sense to say that black Americans may be humiliated by the continuing presence of Confederate statues in the public spaces of their cities? Would the residents of Budapest have experienced disrespect if the statues of Lenin and others were not removed from their public squares? Is the name of the Colston Hall an expression of contempt for black Bristolians?1 Furthermore, if the answer to these questions is ‘yes,’ then does this provide at least a pro tanto reason to remove Confederate statues, to keep statues of Lenin in their outdoor museum, and to rename the Colston Hall? DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-11

The Environment of Recognition  151 I have two main reasons for seeking to determine whether these various objects to be found in the urban environment can be involved in relations of recognition. First, if I can show that such environments can indeed recognize their denizens, then I shall have added something relatively novel to debates about recognition, in particular by expanding the range of entities that may be considered givers of recognition. Second, I shall have done so in a way which has practical relevance for a number of important contemporary debates of the kinds just mentioned. As a consequence, it may be possible for a theory of recognition to be applied constructively in these debates. In order to try to redeem these claims, Section 8.1 presents several important features of contemporary theories of recognition. Then, in Section 8.2, I provide a brief account of the object of my inquiry – namely, various sorts of monuments to be found in the urban environment. The following Section 8.3 presents a first, simple account of how it might be argued that such objects recognize (or at least have recognition-like effects). In Section 8.4, I draw on Jeremy Waldron’s language of ‘assurance’ and ‘humiliation’ in order to think about how environments may esteem or disesteem those affected by them (2012). In Section 8.5, I apply all of the foregoing analysis to the particular case of Colston Hall. In particular, I ask what the upshot of such an analysis might be. My discussion here is based on Sanford Levinson’s analysis of the various options which may be taken to controversial public monuments, particularly in the southern United States (1998). Finally, I reach some provisional conclusions about whether urban environments, and objects in those environments, can be said to recognize or not.

8.1 The Theory of Recognition In this chapter, I follow many other theorists of recognition by accepting the principal lineaments of Axel Honneth’s well-known account of three forms of recognition, which are most often referred to as love (or care), respect, and esteem (1995). But I use Heikki Ikäheimo’s terminology rather than Honneth’s to refer to these modes, and I also highlight certain further distinctions and complexities which Ikäheimo adds to this theory (2015). I attend in particular to his distinctions between ‘horizontal’ and ‘vertical’ recognition, and between ‘normatively mediated’ and ‘purely intersubjective’ recognition. I would readily admit that this is a highly selective discussion of certain aspects of the theory of recognition. To anticipate, its main purpose is to suggest that, if it makes sense to talk about environments of recognition, then it follows that parts of this theory will need to be revised. To begin with, then, recognition can take three analytically distinct three forms. Using Ikäheimo’s terminology, these are (1) ‘axiological’: the concern for others’ happiness or well-being, (2) ‘deontological’: the

152  Simon Thompson acknowledgement of others’ shared authority on social norms, and (3) ‘contributive’: the response to others as (potential) contributors to something valuable (Ikäheimo 2015, 29–30). There are three corresponding forms of misrecognition. Very roughly speaking, these are (1) neglect of particular others’ needs or welfare, (2) lack of respect for all others’ capacity for rational autonomy, and (3) absence of esteem for some others’ contributions. (For reasons I shall explain as I go along, my focus in this chapter will be on the third forms of recognition and misrecognition.) Supplementing this account, Ikäheimo makes a distinction between vertical recognition, understood as “recognition between persons and norms or institutions,” and horizontal recognition, understood as “recognition between persons” (Ikäheimo 2015, 27–28). The former sort of recognition is ‘downward’ in the case of “states ‘recognizing’ persons in the sense of granting them rights or respecting their rights”; and it is “upward” when norms, and “institutions thought of as systems of norms,” are “‘recognized’ by those whose life they govern.” There are, moreover, two forms of horizontal recognition. In the case of that “mediated by norms,” someone is recognized “as a bearer of entitlements or rights stipulated by norms,” whereas in the case of “purely intersubjective” recognition, a person is responded to “irrespectively of [her] statuses or roles, or, to offer a short expression, as an individual” (Ikäheimo 2015, 28). Finally, returning to the three modes of recognition, Ikäheimo contends that the second – the equivalent of Honneth’s respect – can be either normatively mediated or purely intersubjective. In the latter case, I directly acknowledge the other person as worthy of my respect, whilst, in the former, I indirectly acknowledge them as such by obeying norms which are part of a system granting its members respect. By contrast, the “two other dimensions” – Honneth’s love and esteem – “only consist of purely intersubjective phenomena” (Ikäheimo 2015, 29). They are not, in other words, mediated by norms or by institutions regarded as systems of norms. Focusing on the contributive dimension, since I shall argue that this is the kind of recognition in play in the cases in which I am interested, Ikäheimo contends that “purely intersubjective recognition … on the contributive dimension” involves valuing the other “as contributor to something one values, or as a bearer of capacities for such contributions” (Ikäheimo 2015, 29). As I have just said, I accept the division of recognition into three analytically distinct modes. In what follows, however, I shall be raising questions about the other parts of this account. First, I shall ask whether Ikäheimo is right to argue that vertical recognition is not recognition proper. This is why he puts both its upward and downward forms in double quotation marks. He would prefer to call the upward form ‘acknowledgement’ rather than recognition (Ikäheimo and Laitinen 2007), and with reference to the downward form, he says, “Since the state is not an intentional subject capable of having attitudes of recognition, this sense of ‘recognition’ is metaphoric” (Ikäheimo 2015, 40–41).

The Environment of Recognition  153 Second, I shall test Ikäheimo’s assumption that only deontological recognition can be vertical, as citizens acknowledge states’ authority and states grant rights to them. My aim in this chapter is to consider whether contributive recognition can also be vertical, at least in the downward direction, so that it is possible for states to esteem their citizens. Third, I shall contest the idea that only deontological recognition can be normatively mediated. Against this assumption, I suggest that it is very usual to argue that contributive recognition may be also mediated by norms. As Honneth puts it, each society has an “intersubjectively shared value-horizon” (Honneth 1995, 121) or “value-system” (Honneth 1995, 124) which specifies what sorts of actions by its members are worthy of esteem. If individuals esteem one another by reference to a set of values that both share, then it would appear that contributive recognition can also be normatively mediated. Fourth, I shall ask whether the third mode of recognition should be construed so narrowly that individuals can only be esteemed for what they contribute or have the potential to contribute. This appears to rule out the possibility that individuals could be esteemed for having a status which they enjoy on a par with others. In particular, I shall suggest, citizenship fits this bill: in Ronald Dworkin’s (1977, 370) phrase, states should show their citizens “equal concern and respect.” This might be called ‘egalitarian’ rather the ‘positional’ esteem.

8.2 Urban Environments With these various elements of the theory of recognition in mind, I now want to provide a brief account of the object of my inquiry. Conventional definitions of an ‘environment’ include “[t]he surroundings or conditions in which a person, animal, or plant lives or operates” (Oxford Dictionary) or “the circumstances, objects, or conditions by which one is surrounded” (Merriam-Webster). It is usual to draw a contrast between ‘social’ and ‘natural’ environments.2 Whilst there is no doubt that people are significantly affected by the latter, this is not because they are recognized or misrecognized by it. When sailors ‘respect’ the sea, they acknowledge its dangers; but the sea is utterly indifferent to their fate. In some contexts, the phrase ‘social environment’ is used to refer to a very wide range of phenomena, including social relationships, cultural milieus, and so on.3 But I want to focus exclusively on what I shall call the ‘urban environment’ (Zacka 2019, 4). I understand this to be a particular spatial arrangement or distribution of buildings of various sizes, shapes, and volumes (houses, office blocks, factories, etc.), with spaces of various dimensions and extents in between (streets, squares, parks, etc.), undergirded and linked together by a series of complex systems, including communications, transportation, and energy infrastructures.

154  Simon Thompson Urban environments are shaped by a number of different forces. To take two of the most important, proprietorial regimes and planning systems divide them up into public, private, and ‘third’ spaces,4 and then enable particular actors to exercise control over these spaces in distinctive ways. More informal classificatory schemes also have significant effects. For example, some spaces are regarded as the rightful possession of men, the rich, and the ethnic majority, whilst others are regarded as the appropriate locations for women, the poor, and ethnic minorities.5 Focusing on the public spaces to be found in such environments, we can see that they are marked by a range of different sorts of features. Certain colours and images may decorate the surfaces of public space. Features of that space – such as streets and schools – may be given particular names. Flags and symbols, monuments and memorials, may all be placed in it in significant locations. With this very simple and familiar account of urban environments in mind, I now want to consider the possibility that they can both recognize and misrecognize – or at least have recognition-like effects6 – on those affected by them. I should say that the following remarks are merely illustrative: they are intended to show how it might be argued that urban environments recognize their denizens, rather than to provide the argument itself. With this warning in mind, let me consider each of the three forms that recognition can take. First, in relations of axiological recognition, people are cared for or loved. My suggestion here is that an urban environment which is shaped in part to ensure that every denizens’ well-being is protected and enhanced could be said to be one in which they are recognized axiologically. By contrast, what is called an ‘obesogenic’ environment misrecognizes people by undermining the conditions necessary to their well-being. Thus the former sort of environment will encourage walking and cycling, and it will limit junk food advertising in public spaces. The latter sort of environment will be neither of those things. It should be noted that the way I have described matters here goes against Ikäheimo’s assumptions that axiological recognition is necessarily horizontal and purely intersubjective; instead, it suggests that it can be vertical and normatively mediated. I shall not defend this possibility any further in this chapter. Second, in deontological recognition, individuals’ rational autonomy is respected. Here, I would suggest, an urban environment which recognizes its denizens in this particular way would be one that provides them with roughly equal opportunities to exercise their capacity for rational autonomy (including in making decisions about how that environment is shaped). By contrast, an urban environment which fails to provide deontological recognition would be one in which at least some denizens’ access to public spaces is severely regulated or denied. I would suggest that burqa bans are an example of such misrecognition. Whilst they do not prevent Muslim women from entering public spaces, these laws put a very

The Environment of Recognition  155 significant obstacle in the way of those who wish to veil in such spaces. I should note that, in Ikäheimo’s terms, I focus here solely on the vertical, downward, and normatively mediated form of deontological recognition. Finally, in relations of contributive recognition, individuals are esteemed for their contributions. I would suggest that an urban environment provides appropriate contributive recognition if it has characteristics in virtue of which it esteems the contributions of all significant groups affected by it.7 By contrast, such an environment disesteems when it only acknowledges some groups but not others. It could be argued that the Swiss ban on the building of minarets has the effect of disesteeming Swiss Muslims since it communicates the message that they are second-class citizens (Laborde forthcoming; Thompson 2019). In parallel to my comment about axiological recognition, I should point out that this suggestion that environments can engage in contributive recognition also violates Ikäheimo’s assumptions that it is necessarily horizontal and purely intersubjective by suggesting that it can be vertical and normatively mediated. It is precisely this possibility that I intend to investigate further in the course of this chapter.

8.3 Assurance and Humiliation As we saw in Section 8.1, Ikäheimo contends that contributive recognition is necessarily horizontal and purely intersubjective (since only deontological recognition can be vertical and normatively mediated). In order to challenge these assumptions, I want to explore further the possibility that objects in the urban environment can be the agents (or causes) of vertical, downwardly directed, normatively mediated egalitarian (rather than contributive) recognition. To this end, I shall turn to what might at first appear to be an unlikely source. I think that, in his book The Harm in Hate Speech (2012), Jeremy Waldron’s argument for the regulation of such speech can help us to see how objects like the Confederate Army memorials of the southern United States could be said to disesteem some of the individuals confronted by them. Waldron begins his argument for the criminalization of hate speech by making an important distinction between “the spoken word” and expressions which “become a permanent or semipermanent part of the visible environment” (Waldron 2012, 37). Whilst the impact of hateful spoken words may be powerful, it may also be very fleeting. By contrast, the signs of hatred which disfigure the “visible environment” of society (Waldron 2012, 68) have a much more serious ongoing effect. My suggestion is that this applies to what I am calling the urban environment. Indeed, Waldron (2012, 72) says as much himself, arguing that the aspects of the environment with which he is concerned include “tangible aspects of a society’s self-presentation,” including statues and monuments, flags, and mascots, and so on.

156  Simon Thompson Waldron’s claim is that the effect of some of these ‘tangible aspects’ of the urban environment is to undermine what he calls the public good of ‘assurance.’ Such assurance can be defined negatively as the absence of “abuse, defamation, humiliation, discrimination, and violence on grounds of race, ethnicity, religion, gender, and in some cases sexual orientation” (Waldron 2010, 1599). For convenience’s sake, I shall refer to this range of evils simply as ‘humiliation.’ On Waldron’s account, then, the problem with certain tangible objects or signs is that they may humiliate some denizens of the environment in which they are located. In order to explain why I think that such humiliation may be understood as a form of misrecognition, I need to say more about its nature, and in particular what kind of harm it can do. Humiliation sounds like an affective state, one associated with powerful negative feelings such as hurt and resentment. However, Waldron makes a distinction between the “objective or social aspects of a person’s standing in society,” on the one hand, and “subjective aspects of feeling,” on the other (Waldron 2012, 106). On the basis of this distinction, although Waldron does not deny that humiliation will cause negative feelings, he understands it primarily as the undermining of social status.8 To put this in the terms I am using here, then, my claim is that humiliation is a matter of vertical, downwardly directed, normatively mediated, inegalitarian misrecognition. For Waldron, it follows from this analysis that, in order to generate and maintain assurance, it is necessary to remove all signs of hatred from a polity’s visible environment, including, for instance, taking down posters, confiscating pamphlets, and obliterating graffiti whenever these things carry a hateful message.9 If these measures are taken, Waldron believes that all citizens will be able to enjoy assurance, which he defines as “a shared sense of the basic elements of each person’s status, dignity, and reputation as a citizen or member of society in good standing” (Waldron 2012, 47). Defined thus, assurance is not the absence of various evils but is rather the presence of a good: a feeling of dignity that comes from a justified confidence that one is regarded as the equal of one’s fellow citizens. If humiliation is a form of misrecognition, then assurance may be regarded as the corresponding form of recognition. Assurance, as we have seen, is closely connected to ‘dignity,’ which Waldron understands as a person’s sense that their social standing is secure. Again, whilst it is certainly possible for people to feel dignified or to feel that they are being treated with dignity, for Waldron, assurance is understood first and foremost as the confirmation of one’s social status. In parallel with my remarks about humiliation, then, it is my contention that the provision of assurance may be understood as a form of vertical, downwardly directed, normatively mediated, egalitarian recognition. Before ending this discussion, it is worth observing that, for Waldron, assurance and humiliation are rival public goods. Thus assurance is a

The Environment of Recognition  157 public good because it is “a pervasive, diffuse, general, sustained, and reliable underpinning of people’s basic dignity and social standing, provided by all to and for all” (Waldron 2012, 93). It is provided ‘by all’ since all citizens, as well as the state, must do their bit to ensure that everyone enjoys assurance. Assurance is provided ‘for all’ since no one can be excluded from its enjoyment. In an environment from which visible signs of hatred have been removed, no group of citizens can be prevented from enjoying the assurance thus generated. By contrast, in an environment in which signs of hatred remain visible the good of assurance is undermined and replaced with a “rival public good” (Waldron 2012, 95) – perhaps we could say a public bad – which offers racists an assurance that when they speak and act “they are not alone” (Waldron 2012, 99). I shall return to this point in the analysis that follows.

8.4 The Colston Hall My aim in this section is to apply the general analysis developed thus far to the particular case on which I am focusing in this chapter. Since it opened in 1867, many different sorts of cultural events have taken place at Colston Hall. Notable musical acts to perform there include the Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, the Rolling Stones, David Bowie, and Bob Marley. But other performers, including the well-known Bristol-based group Massive Attack, have declared that they would not play at the venue so long as its name remained unchanged. I have chosen to focus on this particular case in part because it is one with which I am familiar, but also in part because I think it is a relatively simple case of its kind. Since the controversy about it focuses exclusively on its name, other issues germane to other cases do not apply. Thus its physical location and architectural style are not contentious. There are no controversial historical events associated with it, and it has not been the rallying point for political movements of any kind (except, of course, for campaigns for and against its change of name). My suggestion is that, if my analysis of this relatively simple case seems plausible, then it could be expanded to include other, more complex cases in which a range of contentious issues are involved. Before beginning my analysis, I should perhaps anticipate the objection that this particular case is some sense trivial because it only concerns a name. If the object in question was a statue of Colston, depicting him engaged in some activity symbolizing his role in the slave trade, then, it might be argued, there would be something significant at stake. But the Colston Hall was named after him over 140 years after his death and purely in recognition of his role as one of the city’s most important benefactors. In response to this potential objection, I would suggest that the significance of names should not be underestimated. Levinson makes this point very well: “Names are important, and the ability to assign a

158  Simon Thompson definitive name is a significant power manifested, as significant power often is, in the most apparently banal of ways” (Levinson 1998, 19). Given that naming practices are significant, my question in this section is whether the name of the Colston Hall may be regarded as an act of misrecognition. Does it, in Waldron’s terms, undermine the public good of assurance by humiliating some of those affected by it? In order to answer this question, it will be useful to it break down into three separate elements: is the Colston name a communicative act (1) of a state-like body, (2) to those subject to its authority, (3) which sends the message that some Bristolians are of lower standing than others? I shall consider each of these three elements in order. 1. Who or what is the agent of recognition? As we saw in Section 8.2, Ikäheimo thinks that the state can ‘recognize’ persons – albeit in a metaphorical sense – by granting them rights and then respecting those rights. In the case I am considering here, the claim would be that it is a local government body acting with the authority delegated to it by the state, which is the agent of recognition. Bristol City Council owns the Colston Hall, which is managed by an ‘independent organisation and registered charity’ called the Bristol Music Trust.10 The Council is also a major source of the Hall’s funding. In this case, the possibility I want to consider is that some combination of the owning and managing bodies is the agent engaged in an act of recognition. There seems to be an obvious problem with this claim, however. Ikäheimo argues that the state can only engage in metaphorical recognition because it “is not an intentional subject capable of having attitudes of recognition” (Ikäheimo 2015, 29). Any attempt to directly challenge Ikäheimo’s claim would be a highly complex task, one which I cannot hope to undertake here.11 What I can do instead is to try to sidestep this issue by arguing that, whether or not it can have recognitive attitudes, a state is able to express itself in various ways in order to explain its actions and to give reasons for them. This is what Corey Brettschneider refers to as the ‘expressive capacity’ of the state. In the context of his argument that the state should permit but simultaneously condemn hate speech, he argues that “the state, in its expressive capacities as speaker and educator, should promote the values of free and equal citizenship and criticize viewpoints at odds with the freedom and equality of citizens” (Brettschneider 2010, 1006). In the present case, then, leaving aside the question of whether Bristol City Council and the Bristol Music Trust can have recognitive attitudes, my claim is that the decision of these bodies to change the name of the Colston Hall is an exercise of their capacity to express themselves.

The Environment of Recognition  159 2. Who or what is the object of recognition? Who did Bristol City Council misrecognize for as long as it did not change the name of Colston Hall? And who did it recognize when it did decide to make the change? Up to this point, I have referred to the objects of recognition and misrecognition in various ways. I have talked about citizens, residents, and denizens, as well as referring to those affected by an urban environment and those over whom the state has authority. In the case I am considering here, if the name of Colston Hall does humiliate, then we must ask which group is humiliated. Could it be everyone who enters the urban environment in which this building is located? Or everyone who lives for a significant period in that environment? Or is it rather a sub-group of those residents who are adversely affected? Can some residents be regarded as targets of humiliation but not others? Although the first and second answers are less intuitively appealing, I think that it is nevertheless worth briefly considering them. In the last section, it may be recalled, I suggested that what Waldron calls assurance is a public good provided ‘for all’ since it is impossible to exclude anyone from its enjoyment. In this case, it may also be argued that humiliation is a public bad which affects everyone. If the state can get away with an expressive act humiliating one particular group, then all are rendered insecure since they all know that they could be next. I think that this is the wrong answer since it fails to acknowledge that prevailing structures of power render some groups much more likely to be subject to humiliation, and a whole range of other abuses, than others.12 In the case under investigation here, then, a version of the third and fourth answers given earlier is much more plausible: due to Colston’s strong association with chattel slavery, involving as it did the forced transportation of mostly West Africans to the Americas and the Caribbean, it is those Bristolians who are able to identify with this group who have good reason to say that they are humiliated by the name of this music venue. 3. If the name of the Colston Hall is an expressive act by an agent to a particular audience, then what message does the name convey? What values were expressed during the period from 1867 to 2017? And what different values were expressed by the decision to change the name? These questions raise a whole host of difficult issues concerning, among other things, the role of speakers’ intentions in acts of communication, the propositional content of that which is communicated, and the different receptions which that act and its content might receive. Steering away from most of these issues here, I shall address briefly part of the final one.

160  Simon Thompson There is no doubt that the name of the Colston Hall is understood very differently by different audiences. As an example of those wishing that the name had been retained, Richard Eddy, a local Conservative councillor, argued that the ‘latest clamour for change represents an attempt to selectively air-brush history away and betrays absolutely no awareness of the huge debt we still owe to this great Bristolian’ (as cited in Grimshaw [2017]). As an example of those who had campaigned to have the name changed, Joanna Burch-Brown, a philosopher at the University of Bristol, had argued, It is the defenders of Colston … who are really obscuring the city’s history … some societies continue to hold ceremonies in which Colston is presented … as Bristol’s greatest philanthropist. This airbrushes the past by failing to honestly convey the scale of suffering caused by Colston’s actions. (Burch-Brown 2017) If it is assumed that this is a disagreement in good faith about the significance of the Colston name and that neither of the positions described is unreasonable, I nevertheless think that there is good reason to change the name of the Hall. This is because the collective interest which Bristolians have in appropriately acknowledging Colston’s philanthropy is far outweighed by the collective interest which they have in creating a public environment that does not humiliate any of its members. The name of the Colston Hall humiliated black Bristolians by choosing to publicly honour an individual who made his wealth from the slave trade, which by implication declared that those Bristolians who identify with the victims of that trade have significantly less value than other Bristolians. Finally, if I bring the answers to the three parts of my question together, my conclusion is that the name of the Colston Hall can indeed be regarded as an expressive act by the local state to those individuals who live in the area over which it exercises authority. During the period when the name of this venue was retained, the expressive act was one of vertical, downwardly directed, normatively mediated, inegalitarian misrecognition; by contrast, the decision to change the name was also a vertical, downwardly directed, normatively mediated act, but this time it was one of egalitarian recognition.

8.5 What Is to Be Done? In the previous section, I argued that the name of the Colston Hall undermined the public good of assurance and promoted the public bad of humiliation, a situation which I think was put right by the decision taken in 2017 to rename this building. However, I do not want to suggest that renaming was the only appropriate response which could have been taken in this particular case. To argue that the Colston name was an act

The Environment of Recognition  161 of misrecognition is not to prove that this name had to be changed. As I shall now attempt to show, there are a variety of options which may legitimately be taken in this and other cases. In my discussion of these options, I shall draw on Levinson’s investigation of the attitudes which have been taken to the monuments of the southern United States. Commenting in particular on a monument to the Confederate dead which stands in front of the Texas State Capitol building in Austin, Levinson identifies a total of nine options which could be taken up in response to this monument. For the purposes of my argument here, I shall take some of these options together and also put a number of them aside quite quickly since it is clear that they do not apply to the present case. Here they are: 1. “Leave it precisely where it is, doing nothing at all” (Levinson 1998, 114). In this particular case, doing nothing is not an acceptable option. Given my argument in the previous section, the fact that a significant number of the residents of Bristol are humiliated by the name of the Colston Hall rules this first option out. 2. “Erect, by the monument, a sign saying something to the effect of ‘The State of Texas takes no view on the views expressed on this monument’” (Levinson 1998, 114). For the same reason as before, I do not think that this option – to erect a sign saying that Bristol City Council takes no view on the name of the Colston Hall – is acceptable either. Given my claim that the state has a duty to use its expressive capacities to explain and defend the values on which its policies and practices rest, I would contend that for the Council to say that it is saying nothing is no better an option than it doing nothing. 3. “Erect, by the monument, a sign saying something to the effect of ‘The views expressed on this monument do not represent the views of the State of Texas’” (Levinson 1998, 114). I shall discuss this option together with the next. 4. “Erect, by the monument, a sign saying something to the effect of ‘These views were once held by many people, but we now know this is a false view of the United States Constitution’” (Levinson 1998, 114). For the purposes of my argument here, there does not appear to be a large difference between Levinson’s third and fourth options. The latter seems to involve making a more objective claim about the falsity of the message that the memorial in question conveys. In the present case, both would involve placing signs next to the Colston Hall sign saying that Bristol City Council repudiates any implication that retaining the name should be regarded as a some sort of apologia for chattel slavery. In Mihaela Mihai’s words, if the monuments under consideration could symbolically humiliate certain groups … then a plaque whereby the state distances itself

162  Simon Thompson from such problematic understandings of social relations is the least authorities can do to affirm the state’s equal concern and respect to all citizens. (Mihai 2015, 9) Although this option involves the retention of the Colston name, I would not for this reason conclude that it is necessarily unreasonable. Taking up this option would, among other things, avoid the charge made by defenders of the status quo that history would be ‘airbrushed’ away if the Colston name was changed. Instead, it could be argued that keeping the name, but being explicit about its significance, appropriately acknowledges the significance of this part of Bristol’s history. If this option were chosen, then further measures could and should also be taken. For example, a permanent exhibition could be mounted inside the lobby of the building, explaining who Colston was and what his legacy is for Bristol today. Such an exhibition should actively condemn the atrocity of the slave trade (see Mihai 2015, 9). 5. “Erect an adjoining monument to the Union dead, with (or without) some suitable Lincolnian statement about the inadmissibility of secession and the necessity to preserve the Union” (Levinson 1998, 114). I shall discuss this option together with the next. . “Erect additional monuments, among which the following are pos6 sible: a) A monument to those enslaved by Texans and other denizens of the Confederacy… b) A monument to those blacks who in fact fought for the Confederacy… c) A monument to some appropriate African American…” (Levinson 1998, 115). Levinson’s fifth and sixth options both involve erecting an adjoining monument which expresses some suitable message which contradicts or counteracts that expressed by the original. In the case of the Colston Hall, no one would suggest erecting another major music venue next to it which was named after some suitable person. But it would certainly be possible to put some sort of monument or statue outside the Hall which would express a sentiment of the kind discussed under options (3) and (4). In fact, I would argue that erecting a monument to a suitable person or group is a better option than putting up a sign since to do so is to publicly honour the figure or figures depicted. In this way, the local state is able to express its commitment to a suitable form of egalitarian recognition, one which emphasizes that all Bristolians are equally worthy of concern and respect. Again, then, although neither of these options entail removing the Colston name, I would not rule them out of the running. 7. “Remove the monument to the museum of Texas history, where it would be placed in some suitable context involving Texas history between 1865–1901” (Levinson 1998, 121). Levinson’s seventh

The Environment of Recognition  163 option does not appear to be relevant here. Since we are talking only about a name plaque, rather than a statue or monument, it is hard to see a good reason for removing the sign itself from the building and placing it in a museum (and, of course, no one would suggest relocating the Hall itself to a museum!). Bristol City Council has sought to represent the link between the city and the slave trade elsewhere, including in the relatively new M Shed Museum, which opened in 2011. Such a process is, of course, not without its difficulties. Regarding this option, Levinson points out that “historicization is … obviously a complex phenomenon … museum curators … would be faced with genuinely difficult choices regarding the presentation of the material” (Levinson 1998, 123).13 8. “Sandblast the presumptively problematic narrative of the war off the monument and either leave that side blank or replace it with some more acceptable statement” (Levinson 1998, 121). This is the renaming option. With regard to the first of the alternatives which Levinson suggests here, I suppose that it would have been possible for the Hall to become nameless – called simply ‘the Hall.’ But, as we have seen, the second alternative – to give the building a different name – was the one taken up. By taking this option, a decision is made not to publicly honour Colston. Perhaps this is the best option since, it could be argued, it would end the humiliation of some Bristolians and instead provide them with a source of pride. It would send out the message that all Bristolians are of equal dignity and standing, that none are superior or inferior to any other. Finally, it should be noted that taking up this option need not involve airbrushing history away since it could be combined with a number of the measures already discussed under options (3) and (4), such as mounting a permanent exhibition about Colston inside the Hall. . “Destroy the monument” (Levinson 1998, 122). This final option is 9 not relevant in the present case since the building itself is not problematic. The original part of the Colston Hall is a grade II listed Victorian building, in what has been called the Venetian-Gothic style. The later part is the new copper-clad foyer, designed by the architectural firm Levitt Bernstein, which was added in 2009. Neither of these architectural forms could be said to express views which are humiliating to some of the residents of Bristol.

8.6 Concluding Remarks In this chapter, I have considered how certain objects in the urban environment may affect those who inhabit that environment. Focusing on monuments of various kinds, and in particular the Colston Hall in the city of Bristol, I have considered whether it could be argued that such objects

164  Simon Thompson may recognize or misrecognize those who encounter them. In this short final section, I have two aims. First, I want to reflect on the implications of my argument for the theory of recognition. Second, I want to sound a strong note of caution about the weight which may be placed on my argument by pointing out several simplifications which I have made and difficult issues which I have sought to work around. Here I indicate briefly what further work I think needs to be done in order to definitively determine what sort of recognition objects in the urban environment can do. With regard to the first of these aims, toward the start of this chapter, I focused on several key aspects of the theory of recognition, as formulated in particular by Heikki Ikäheimo. In particular, he assumes (1) that vertical downward ‘recognition’ is only ‘metaphoric,’ (2) that only deontological recognition can be vertically orientated, (3) that only deontological recognition can be normatively mediated, and (4) that the sort of recognition which Honneth calls esteem can only be the acknowledgement of contribution. In this chapter, I have questioned these assumptions. (1) I have at least explored the possibility that states and other relevantly similar organizations could recognize those over whom they have authority in a nonmetaphorical way. (2) I have also considered whether objects in the urban environment could also be agents of such recognition, in particular by being one way in which states express messages of esteem – or disesteem – to their citizens. (3) I have suggested that contributive recognition may also be normatively mediated since this practice of recognition only makes sense against a background of more or else agreed values. (4) Finally, I have argued that the qualities in virtue of which esteem-recognition may be deserved should be broadened in order to include individuals’ status or standing. This opens up the possibility that such recognition can be egalitarian rather than positional: it can be something all individuals should enjoy equally rather than something that differentiates one from another. Putting all of these points together, my principal objective in this chapter has been to suggest that it may be possible for states to engage in the vertical, downward, egalitarian recognition of their citizens, in part by ensuring that objects in the urban environment communicate the message that all of them are of equal standing. Having said this, my other task in this final section is to make it clear that there are several elements of my argument which would require much more development before I would be entirely confident of my conclusions. First, a more sophisticated account is needed of the agent of recognition. I described the local state and an independent charity working together under the delegated authority of the state. A number of elements of this description need to be fleshed out in much greater detail than I was able to provide. Second, a better account of the objects of recognition is necessary. I referred to these objects both as those living in a particular

The Environment of Recognition  165 environment, and those affected by that environment. But those two constituencies do not necessarily coincide. In democratic theory, the same issue is discussed by those comparing the relative merits of the ‘all-subjected principle’ and the ‘all-affected principle’ (e.g. Näsström 2011). Third, the most important task which needs to be undertaken is to determine exactly what sort of recognition can be performed by the state. In this chapter, I did not try to directly challenge Ikäheimo’s argument that the state cannot recognize since it cannot have attitudes of recognition. Instead, I sought to work around this argument by suggesting that, whether or not it can intend, the state can exercise what I referred to as a capacity for expression. That is to say, the state can ‘speak’ in a variety of ways in order to explain what it is doing and why it is doing it. If this is a plausible account of what is going on, is it a case of Ikäheimo’s ‘metaphorical’ recognition? Or is it a process analogous to recognition and with the same effects that recognition proper would have? Or, by relaxing the conditions necessary to have recognitive attitudes, could the state be said to recognize in the proper sense of that word? Answers to these important questions lie beyond the limits of this chapter.

Notes 1 In other cases, do Francophone Québécois feel appropriately valued because the public signage in their province is predominantly in French? Are Swiss Muslims disrespected by the ban on minaret-building? 2 This is not to say that the ‘natural’ environment is entirely untouched by human hand; it is very difficult to find any bits of pure wilderness in the world today. 3 According to Barnett and Casper (2001), ‘‘Human social environments encompass the immediate physical surroundings, social relationships, and cultural milieus within which defined groups of people function and interact. Components of the social environment include built infrastructure; industrial and occupational structure; labor markets, social and economic processes; wealth; social, human, and health services; power relations; government; race relations; social inequality; cultural practices; the arts; religious institutions and practices; and beliefs about place and community.” (online at https:// www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1446600/pdf/11249033.pdf) 4 For a brief account of third spaces, see Carmona (2010, 132–133). 5 To take the first type of case, see, for example, Beebeejaun (2017). 6 Or have effects similar to those produced by recognition and by an analogous process. 7 Alternatively, it could be argued that it treats all groups fairly by refusing to esteem any of them. 8 According to Christian Neuhäuser, humiliation is an “attempt to lower someone below the status of a human being as a person with dignity through an improper attitude or treatment” (cited in Mihai 2015, 4). 9 However, Waldron is wary of affirmative measures, such as “billboards proclaiming the principles of justice as fairness,” which would have what he calls a “creepy totalitarian flavor” (Waldron 2012, 87). 10 See https://www.colstonhall.org/about-us/bristol-music-trust/. 11 This is a task taken up by Hirvonen (2017).

166  Simon Thompson 12 Waldron suggests that it is members of “vulnerable minorities” who are particularly susceptible to the damaging effects of hate speech because “their status as equal citizens’ in society is not ‘so well assured that they have no need of the law’s protection against the vicious slur of racist denunciation” (Waldron 2012, 30). 13 As an example of these difficulties, the following comments on the M Shed’s section on slavery presents a significant contrast. The Guardian newspaper describes “a subdued display at M Shed, a city museum, occupying a corner of a gallery on the first floor” (https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2017/ apr/02/bristol-slave-trade-ties-wills-building-colston-hall-rename-petition). In stark contrast, consider this user’s comment on the travel website Trip Advisor: “Far, far too much emphasis on the social ‘history’ of Bristol and sadly predictable attempts once again to hoodwink people who don’t know better into thinking that the entire city was built on the back of the slave trade” (https:// w w w. t r i p a d v i s o r. c o . u k / S h o w U s e r R e v i e w s - g 1 8 6 2 2 0 - d 2 1 8 9 7 8 8 r151254666-M_Shed-Bristol_England.html).

References Barnett, Elizabeth & Michele Casper. 2001. A Definition of “Social Environment”. American Journal of Public Health, 91 (3): 465. Beebeejaun, Yasminah. 2017. Gender, Urban Space, and the Right to Everyday Life. Journal of Urban Affairs, 39 (3): 323–334. Brettschneider, Corey. 2010. When the State Speaks, What Should It Say? The Dilemmas of Freedom of Expression and Democratic Persuasion. Perspectives on Politics, 8 (4): 1005–1019. Burch-Brown, Joanna. 2017. Defenders of Colston Are the Ones Airbrushing the Past, Says Bristol University Academic. The Bristol Post. 30 April 2017. Available at: https://www.bristolpost.co.uk/news/bristol-news/defenders-colstonones-airbrushing-past-40454. Carmona, Matthew. 2010. Contemporary Public Space: Critique and Classification, Part One: Critique. Journal of Urban Design, 15 (1): 123–148. Dworkin, Ronald. 1977. Taking Rights Seriously. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Grimshaw, Emma. 2017. ‘Surrendering to Political Correctness’ – Bristol Tory Party Blasts Colston Hall Following Name Change Announcement. s. 22 April. Available at: https://www.bristolpost.co.uk/news/bristol-news/surrenderingpolitical-correctness-bristol-tory-36680. Hirvonen, Onni. 2017. Groups as Persons? A Suggestion for a Hegelian Turn. Journal of Social Ontology, 3 (2): 143–165. Honneth, Axel. 1995. Struggle for Recognition. Cambridge: Polity Press. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2015. Conceptualizing Causes for Lack of Recognition. Studies in Social and Political Thought, 25: 25–43. Ikäheimo, Heikki & Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Analyzing Recognition: Identification, Acknowledgement, and Recognitive Attitudes towards Persons. In Recognition and Power: Axel Honneth and the Tradition of Critical Social Theory, eds. Bert van den Brink & David Owen, 33–56. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Laborde, Cecile. Forthcoming. Miller’s Minarets: Religion, Culture, Domination. In Political Philosophy, Here and Now: Essays in Honour of David Miller, eds. S. Fine, D. Butt & Z. Stemplowska. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

The Environment of Recognition  167 Levinson, Sanford. 1998. Written in Stone. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Mihai, Mihaela. 2015. Democratic “Sacred Spaces”: Public Architecture and Transitional Justice. In Theorizing Transitional Justice, eds. Claudio Corradetti & Nir Eisikovits, 167–181. London: Routledge. Näsström, Sofia. 2011. The Challenge of the All-Affected Principle. Political Studies, 59 (1): 116–134. Thompson, Simon. 2019. The Expression of Religious Identities and the Control of Public Space. Ethnicities, 19 (2): 231–250. Waldron, Jeremy. 2010. Dignity and Defamation: The Visibility of Hate. Harvard Law Review, 123 (7): 1596–1657. Waldron, Jeremy. 2012. The Harm in Hate Speech. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Zacka, Bernardo. 2019. What Is Public Space for? Political Imaginaries and Policy Implications. In The Routledge Handbook of Ethics and Public Policy, eds. Annabelle Lever & Andrei Poama, 143–155. London: Routledge.

9 Creating Irrelations The #MeToo Phenomenon in the Light of Recognition Theory Jaana Hallamaa

9.1 #MeToo – Exposing the Casting Couch One of the central uses of social media – typically Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram – is for the sharing of experiences. During the fall of 2017, the American actress Alyssa Milano drew attention to the frequency of women on these platforms bearing witness to sexual assault and harassment they had experienced. On Sunday, October 15, 2017, she posted on Twitter: “If you’ve been sexually harassed or assaulted write ‘me too’ as a reply to this tweet.”1 Twitter took notice of Milano’s message and promoted it on Moments, a platform for highlighted stories, with the effect that the tweet spread like a prairie fire. It was used more than 500,000 times all over the globe within the first 24 hours following the original tweet. The hashtags #MeToo or #metoo were soon translated into a number of languages (Phillips 2018; Powell 2017). Numerous #MeToo messages simply repeated the signalling words ‘me too’ but many women also shared their personal experiences. In addition to reporting unpleasant, involuntary, and threatening incidents, they also wrote about reactions to their experiences. In the words of the author Najwa Zebian, “I was blamed for it. I was told not to talk about it. I was told that it wasn’t that bad. I was told to get over it” (Rutenberg et al. 2017). The testimonies of ordinary women were further accented as famous film actresses, well-known figures from the music world, and fashion celebrities joined the movement. Hollywood was soon in the limelight. One of the world’s most powerful film moguls, Harvey Weinstein, became a visible target of the campaign as more than 30 women – the number later went up to over 100 – stepped forward and accused him of harassment, assault and even rape (Rutenberg et al. 2017). The police in New York and London started criminal investigations that later on led to charges against Weinstein (Mueller and Reuer 2018). He was not the only one. Not just in the USA but in several European countries, public figures and celebrities whose improper behaviour had for years been a backstage DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-12

Creating Irrelations  169 rumour were exposed as growing numbers of women made their experiences and allegations public (Codrea-Radooct 2017). In Hollywood, the Hollywood & Highland shopping mall and entertainment complex made a change in its permanent public art exhibition by removing an object that had been a part of the show for 17 years. The exhibit in question, Road to Hollywood, was a daybed that many visitors took to represent the famous ‘casting couch,’ the symbol of ritualized abuse of power by studio chiefs to trade film roles for sexual favours. Whether the casting couch – not just as an art exhibit but also as an institutionalized sexual power play – belongs to the past is yet to be seen (Rutenberg et al. 2017). In the following, I will analyze the #MeToo movement with the help of recognition theory.2 I demonstrate that behind the phenomenon, there are, among other things, human relations in which recognition has failed. I start by highlighting the background concerning the #MeToo movement. After sketching the relevant features of recognition theory, I will locate what is at issue in #MeToo in terms of recognition and being recognized. My second analytical tool is the concept of a gift which I use to scrutinize the reciprocal nature of romantic relations.

9.2 It Ain’t Necessarily So Within just days after the first #MeToo tweets, tens of thousands of French women, following the journalist Sandra Muller, published their stories on social media under the hashtag #BalanceTonPorc (expose your pig). Muller had used the hashtag in October 2017 in her Twitter posting about an inappropriate approach she had received from a French executive (Sarfonova 2018). While there were many women who found themselves empowered by the campaign and used the opportunity to come forth with experiences they had – in many cases – been silent about for decades to share their pain and anger with others, not everyone followed the growing movement with content. On January 9, 2018, the newspaper Le Monde published a letter signed by more than 100 female French notabilities in entertainment, publishing, and various academic fields. The best-known figure among the signees was the actress Catherine Deneuve who became the spokesperson of the message. The signees welcomed the discussion of sexual violence as a proper societal issue but claimed that the campaign had gone too far.3 The main point of criticism was that the campaign blurred the borders between sexual crime and insistent or clumsy flirting and the line between chauvinist aggression and gallantry. By doing so, the signees argued, the movement placed ordinary if thoughtless people in the same category as sex offenders. Men who had simply touched a knee, tried to steal a kiss, uttered intimate confessions in a work context, or sent messages with

170  Jaana Hallamaa sexual connotations to women who just did not reciprocate the feelings had become the real victims of the campaign. In lieu of empowering women, the #MeToo and #BalanceTonPorc movements had started to serve the interests of “the enemies of sexual freedom, of religious extremists, of the worst reactionaries,” and those who believe that women need special protection (Sarfonova 2018). To stress their point, the writers referred to philosopher Ruwen Ogien’s claim that the freedom to offend is essential to artistic creation. Analogically the signees wished to “defend a freedom to bother, indispensable to sexual freedom.” They were confident that distinguishing clumsy flirtation from sexual assault was not difficult. Women should not slip into the pitfall of self-victimization but accept the risks of freedom: accidents can affect a woman’s body but do not necessarily harm her dignity and banish her to perpetual victimhood (Sarfonova 2018). The Finnish editor Ulla Appelsin and the Swedish author Lena Andersson joined the critics. Appelsin expressed suspicion against women retrospectively blaming men for previous sexually coloured misbehaviour. Much that we now condemn as inappropriate, she argued, was only recently part of normal behaviour. Just decades ago, the rod was a standard disciplinary aid in the majority of ordinary families; now, corporeal punishment is a criminal offence (Appelsin 2017). Andersson, for her part, spoke strongly against retrospective identification of one’s experiences as rape. According to her, there is no such thing as not knowing whether you have been raped or not. If you are uncertain, what happened was not a rape (Hallamaa 2018). A great majority of the notable figures who have been accused of oftentimes grave misdeeds have denied that anything inappropriate ever happened. They follow one of two strategies: either the accused denies that there was anything sexually inappropriate between him and his accusers, or he admits his sexual approach and deeds but denies the correctness of the interpretation. Women with whom they had sexual contact, these men say, were fully compliant and everything took place with mutual agreement (Ryzik 2018; Deb & Barnes 2018).

9.3 Conceptual Prerequisites The #MeToo campaigners claim that there has always been sexual harassment towards women. The term is, however, quite recent. It entered the public lexicon only during the second half of the 1970s. It became a theme in the English-speaking world when the magazine Ms. made it its cover story in November 1977. The article consisted of narratives similar to the experiences of the #MeToo campaigners. According to a survey that the editors of Ms. cited, 88% of women reported having been harassed at work, and even though the reports of such experiences covered nearly all professions, acting stood out as a particularly pernicious

Creating Irrelations  171 field. The article used the term ‘casting couch’ to describe a strong convention with which many women were made to comply to get a role in a film or a play (Bennett 2018). In the late 1970s when Ms. took up the theme, sexual harassment had not been defined in United States law and was therefore not a criminal offence. The person who paved its way to the legal arena in the United States was a young lawyer, Catharine A. MacKinnon. She published a legal argument in 1979 claiming that sexual harassment was a form of discrimination under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 (MacKinnon 1979). The validity of MacKinnon’s legal argument was tested with the evidence of a bank teller, Mechelle Vinson, who told the court that her married boss had raped her several times. The case proceeded through the legal system and was finally part of a Supreme Court ruling in 1986 that enshrined the harassment-as-discrimination theory into law (MacKinnon 2007). MacKinnon based her argument of sexual harassment as sex discrimination on the claim that the act is a product of the social inequality between women and men and helps to produce such inequality (MacKinnon 1979, 116–118, 174). In her argument, she draws a line between two types of sexual harassment in the workplace. In the first form, quid pro quo “sexual compliance is exchanged or proposed to be exchanged for an employment opportunity.” The second form “arises when sexual harassment is a persistent condition of work” (MacKinnon 1979, 32). Women have gradually started to use this terminology for describing their experiences. #MeToo relies on such concepts.

9.4 Central Features of Recognition Theory Recognition is an intentional relationship between subject and other. The intentional content relies on a person cognitively identifying something, and it is followed by a normative affirmation in which that something is acknowledged as something by that person (Koskinen 2018). For example, Harvey Weinstein identifies Angelina Jolie as an actress and acknowledges her as the kind of actress suitable for a certain film role. Like all interhuman relations, recognition-relationships are social. Part of our becoming human persons is that we learn from our sensory data how to distinguish the (socially) relevant from the irrelevant. A blueberry picker may not even notice that there are also mushrooms in the forest as they concentrate on finding the blueberry bushes. The discernment of the relevant from the irrelevant also colours the acknowledgement process. An usher tells a young woman in jeans that she must take another seat in the lecture room because the one she occupies is reserved for the keynote speaker, not taking into account that she may be the lecturer (Heffernan 2012, 97). We can see that recognition-relationships involve attitudes that rely on cognitive identification and normative acknowledgement. Such

172  Jaana Hallamaa relationships take form in the actual world through different types of action coloured by the attitude of the recognizing subject. Recognitionrelationships have practical implications for their objects through single actions but also via cultural practices, customs, and different types of institutions that give – often implicit – guidelines for proper behaviour depending on the object and context of action (Illouz 1997, 5–6, 318). Boys may get knocked about by their peers unhindered by the nursery school staff much more frequently than girls because fighting is regarded as natural for boys. The common way to analyze recognition-relationships is to scrutinize them from the point of view of either the recognizer or the recognizee. The standard setting is that the two parties occupy different power positions and struggling for recognition is an attempt to gain equal footage with those who are in the position to grant recognition. What makes many human relationships especially interesting in terms of recognition is their reciprocal nature. There are many different types of power relations, and we yearn for recognition for different features of our social and personal identity and humanity. The horizontal relationships between people set the scene for the relevant forms of recognition in our present context. The standard division of the kinds of recognition-relationships stems from Axel Honneth (1995). The most basic interpersonal recognition is love. It is a prerequisite for human psychological development in the form of care, intimacy, and emotional fulfilment. Even if love is of specific importance for development in childhood and teenage years, it is an essential part of the wellbeing of adults too (Ikäheimo 2010, 310). In a well-ordered society, the relationships people have as citizens and members of different institutions are directed by legally codified rights and liberties. The society’s legal framework presupposes that people regard each other as members of the society equally protected by the law and that they treat each other with equal respect (Thompson 2006, 48). As citizens, people have different roles that are related to their occupational tasks and civic activities. Ideally, mutual respect governs the relationships in such settings. Some relationships bear the characteristics of mutual love in the form of friendship. The type of recognition-relationship most typical of such relations is, however, esteem. Recognition as esteem acknowledges the contribution of the other in striving towards the common goal, as well as expresses evaluation and gratitude for the person’s efforts and achievements (Thompson 2006, 69, 74–77). For a person to thrive, all forms of recognition are important. In a constitutional state, respect has a specific status. Equal basic rights and liberties are realized in the various kinds of relationships people have with each other. Behind respect there lies the presupposition of the basic similarity of all people based on common humanity and therefore essentially equal worth. Importantly, respect also acknowledges the other as a

Creating Irrelations  173 co-author of reciprocally binding moral rules. In love, the specific features of the parties have an accentuated value, as cherishing the uniqueness of the other is an integral part of such relationships. In esteem, the general and the specific both play a role. A person’s achievements are related to the general standards of the field of activity in question but their value lies in the personal features of the esteemed.

9.5 The Mutually Agreeable Romantic Relationship To better understand what is at issue behind the discontentment of women in the #MeToo movement, some dividing lines are needed. As mentioned earlier, critics have claimed that the campaign has blurred the line between criminal and licit behaviour. According to their view, there exists a third category between the two, a grey zone. In the following, I will study the criteria for establishing the three zones and start by examining the determinants of an agreeable romantic relationship. The mutually agreeable romantic relationship can be conceptualized as a gift relationship that presupposes three elements: giving, receiving, and reciprocity (Mauss 1990). Ideally, the parties alternate in the roles of unselfish giver and receiver. Both give with the intent to please and satisfy the other and receive with gratefulness and willingness to reciprocate. Love is a gift that continuously replenishes by being given, received, and given back in turn. Ideally, sexuality is part of such a loving relationship, a multifaceted physical expression of the bond between the two. Mutually agreeable romantic relationships represent the personal dimension of recognition. There is initially some sort of positively coloured acknowledgement of the other as worth approaching. The acknowledgement is followed by a move agreeable to the other and worth reciprocating in a positive manner indicating that the contact is welcome. It is an essential part of a love relationship that it is voluntary: one may enter and exit at one’s own will (Hallamaa 2017, 207, 228). Not all consensual sexual relationships are ideal. It can be exhausting to be infatuated. The novel features of the gift wear off. Love normalizes into routinized forms and stabilizes into an agreement of partnership or a solidarity contract called marriage. The relationship may adopt forms of exchange with only occasional elements of the gift (Illouz 1997, 39–42).

9.6 The Illicit Sexual Relationship How can we distinguish actions that create relationships that are not acceptable? In the 2002 World Report on Violence and Health, the World Health Organization (WHO) defines sexual violence as any sexual act, attempt to obtain a sexual act, unwanted sexual comments or advances, or acts to traffic, or otherwise directed, against a

174  Jaana Hallamaa person’s sexuality using coercion, by any person regardless of their relationship to the victim, in any setting, including but not limited to home and work. (WHO 2002, 149) The core of the definition is the use of negative sanctions, some type of coercion. The presence of coercive measures implies that the act takes place against the other person’s will (WHO 2002). The WHO definition covers even the types of action the critics of the #MeToo movement classify as unpleasant but not illicit. Often, legislation concerning sexual offences requires physical marks caused either by assault or resistance as proof of the act being coercive. Having verbally refused is not enough. The #BalanceTonPorc critics stress the risks of freedom and claim that there resides a ‘freedom to bother’ in sexual advances. Sexual relationships can lead to hurtful ‘accidents.’ It follows that a woman’s negative experience cannot be a – or any – criterion for assessing the condemnatory in sexual relationships. There is an ever-growing number of people who disagree with this view. In Spain, a court case against a group of young men who, during the bull run in Pamplona in 2016, had sexually assaulted an 18-year-old woman and who had all forced her to participate in sexual interaction (including intercourse), filmed their actions and bragged about them on social media, led to huge protests that went on for days at the end of April 2018: the men were convicted of sexual assault, not rape, for the reason that the young woman – for her fear – did not physically resist the group of men. According to prevailing law, only fighting back and getting physically hurt can be taken as proof of something happening against one’s will (BBC News 2018; Millet 2018).4 The elements of coercion are even more difficult to prove in a work context. Most bosses accused of sexual assault deny ever having done anything improper. Their accusers simply have a vivid imagination or a concealed wish for a sexual relationship. To prove the allegations, one would have to show that the reason for one’s being chosen for a job, having been refused a task, having been allowed to continue working, or having been sacked was due to one’s compliance to or refusal of a sexual relationship with the boss. Waterproof evidence to back up such claims is often impossible to attain.5 The line between the improper and the licit is not easy to draw. The grey zone of unpleasant sexual experiences seems to be wide, and as the #MeToo campaign shows, there are many who do not agree with the borders currently defined by law and custom. Individual cases, such as the Pamplona incident, often make visible the need for more conceptually precise definitions of what is illegitimate or changes in legal thinking. The protesters argue for an updated definition of what ‘against a person’s

Creating Irrelations  175 will’ means. The demand is crystallized in the name of one global organization specifically set up to counter sexual violence: No Means No Worldwide.6

9.7 The Grey Zone Consider a sexually charged or erotically coloured remark. The comment – if sincere – arises from the commentator’s reaction to the object. The charm of the other moves me to make a positive comment. What does the situation look like in the terms of the gift? For me, the other person’s charm is a gift that I have received and it becomes manifest as feelings of pleasure or arousal. My comment is then a reciprocated gift to the other who is – from my point of view – supposed to somehow return it. Who was the initiator of the exchange? If a woman accentuates her looks, the commenter may take her to be the originator. Make-up and smart clothing are interpreted as an invitation to approach, and the woman must reciprocate a compliment or pass by playing along. If she turns down the approach, the commenter may feel shame and resentment for an interrupted gift cycle. The failure may lead to an urge to reciprocate the refusal with an anti-gift: a defaming comment or denigration. The reciprocity of the gift turns into reciprocity of hostility. The exchange may grow sour also because the object sees, or acknowledges, the comment as flattery, a move in a bargaining game in which the commenter tries to trick sexual favours from the object. I say nice things about your sex appeal in order for you to reciprocate my compliment by consenting to my further approaches. Flattery functions as a positive sanction: you will consent to do what I wish you to do, and I will continue being nice to you. The semblances of bargaining and gift relationships offer an easy exit for the flatterer in case they are turned down as an honourable escape from the embarrassing situation by acting as a gift-giver who has been rejected and whose feelings have been hurt.7 The risks of the gift are analogous to the features the signees of the Le Monde letter attach to sexual relationships that turn unpleasant and harmful. There are gifts that hurt the receiver’s feelings. The hurt may be intentional. The gift then becomes an anti-gift. The offence may also stem from the fact that the gift infringes upon the receiver’s autonomy, and they feel compelled to do something against their will either because of the nature of the gift or because of the obligation to reciprocate. A receiver may be drawn into social relationships that they do not wish to bind and maintain. In sexually coloured relationships, such features may be accentuated because for one party, the anti-gift-giver, part of the pleasure of sexuality is the other’s loss of control. The anti-gift-giver may then deny responsibility for causing unpleasantness for the receiver.

176  Jaana Hallamaa The #MeToo campaigners have demanded a legislative paradigm shift. The line between condemnatory and licit sexual behaviour should be mutual consent which the parties must both confirm and have confirmed. The Le Monde critics ridiculed the demands claiming that such procedures would end erotic flirtation and kill spontaneity in sexual relations. The critics have a point here. Gifts involve a surprise factor. It is part of the concept of the gift – and an essential element of the pleasure of a successful gift – that the giver chooses it. Relationships based on verbally explicit consent diminish the surprise factor and may start to resemble contracts. One of the striven-for features in contracts is that they regulate the scope and nature of the relationship under contract and create stability and predictability by reducing spontaneity. The conditions of the contract explicate the relevant features of the parties upon which their mutual acknowledgement is based in their dealings with each other.8 Erotic approaches based on explicit compliance are less like gifts and more like contractual agreements. In the context of a contract, such relationships may start to resemble routinized marital sex or prostitution where the exchange of goods and services is arranged. Reducing the unwanted features of sexual encounters by demanding consent could diminish at least some of the charm of pleasurable flirtation. My analysis catches some of the features salient in the #MeToo discussion and wider problems of romantic relationships. Still, the concept of the gift only covers part of the intricacies of such relations, as it ignores the socially and historically determined attitudes and behavioural patterns that govern interaction. We must widen the view on the matter.

9.8 Gendered Systems of Power, Opportunity, and Responsibility The legal status of women has changed radically during the past 150 years. Focusing on lawmaking often leaves other factors aside. Ways of thinking, common beliefs, customs, and practices take longer to change than legislation. Mechanisms the #MeToo campaign stands up against date back to a time when the purpose of the law was not to guarantee equal rights to all citizens but to maintain differences believed to be part of nature’s eternal order. The structures of gender that prevailed in the Western world until the early twentieth century were an integral part of the Christian understanding of the rightful worldly order. In the standard teaching of the Bible, verses that proclaim the equality of believers in Christ were interpreted as only applying to their relationship to God. The mundane norms were designed according to Bible passages that represent a hierarchical society. In the God-given order, women are created subordinate to men in all walks of life. The inferior status of women included the fact that women were not independent judiciary subjects but constantly under the guardianship of either their fathers or husbands. Violations against women such as rape

Creating Irrelations  177 were primarily crimes against their male proprietors. Raping an unmarried woman was an infringement against her father, as it spoiled her prospects of marriage that would deliver the father from the duty to keep her. The rapist could remedy the crime by marrying his victim. Raping someone’s wife was in essence an offence against the husband whose sole right it was to have sexual intercourse with her (Lidman 2015, 74–76). Without rights of their own, women’s position was, in this respect, similar to that of slaves (Wilson 2003, 306). Where women had ownership rights, they were much more limited than those of men. A woman could manage her own affairs only if she was a widow and had thus lost her guardian and keeper. When at work, women’s wages were very much lower than men’s. Lacking legal rights led to various kinds of exploitation of women irrespective of their rank and status (Wilson 2003, 314). Even when the drawbacks were highlighted in public, it took decades to change the laws enabling abuse. Pointing out injustices led to hefty protests against the suggested remedies, as they threatened the prevailing order (Wilson 2003, 306–307, 421–422). The process for renewing the laws followed the pattern described in studies of recognition theory. Things cannot be changed before they are identified, named, and acknowledged as being what they are; in this case ills. To do so requires acknowledging the people who suffer from these ills as human persons, similar to those whom the prevailing legislation favours. The process is a struggle: the underprivileged demand; the privileged resist (Iser 2013; Laitinen 2010, 326; Thompson 2006, 160–163). What has made women’s battle different from many other struggles is that not only men but also women themselves have opposed it. Being recognized as being on the same level as men has not seemed an improvement to some. The main argument against the equal rights of the sexes is that men and women are naturally and inherently different in their physical, physiological, and psychological constitutions. For this reason, their social functions and tasks must be different too. The subordinate role of women to men protects this difference and promotes the well-being of both individual human beings and the society as a whole. The role of women as wives and mothers is an integral part of this order. A society must protect women by securing for them the possibility to fulfil their feminine roles. Women’s physical and psychological features have long been interpreted through such matrices, and their restricted legal rights have been justified by referring to their weaker capacities in comparison to men’s abilities and a need to concentrate on the essentials – namely, childbearing and rearing and acting as a housewife. To understand why equal recognition is not necessarily an improvement for some women, it is important to see that the subordinate position is not without benefits. In principle, it secures a woman a provider who carries the main economic burden for the whole family. Not having to

178  Jaana Hallamaa strive for position and gain merit relieves one of responsibility and reduces the sources of stress. Bringing up children and taking care of others is often in many respects rewarding. Nor is men’s part in the deal just a privilege.9 Why must a man have to bear the economic responsibility of another fully grown person who is capable of working and taking care of herself? Marriage has been seen as a safe haven for a woman but a yoke and bondage for a man. Finding a husband for oneself was for long the main pursuit in a young woman’s life, whereas for a man, getting married has traditionally ended his days of freedom. Part of the deal is the code of chivalry that is supposed to obligate men (Baker 2012). It stresses the difference between the sexes, and the rules of conduct are rooted in beliefs concerning gender-specific characteristics. Women are delicate and frail, men valiant and brave. Women are beautiful and modest. Men admire their beauty and try to prove themselves worthy of a woman’s love. His having conquered the lady of his heart will end in her dedicating herself, mind and body, her entire life, to his service.10

9.9 A Gendered System of Acknowledgement Such a hierarchy represents a gendered system of acknowledgement. Recognition in the form of respect towards an autonomous human agent is reserved only for (well-off) men. For any woman, the system guarantees acknowledgement within the limits of her sex. If she fulfils the criteria of a(n ideal) woman, her status as a female member of the community is acknowledged. She is worthy of esteem within the category reserved for her. As a young woman, the criteria for esteem concern her lovability – or fitness for labour in two senses of the word – and later on her capacities as a mother and a housekeeper. Recognition reserved for women stresses the – assumed – differences between the sexes. Women are not on the same human level as men but belong to a different category. Instead of taking them as fellow citizens with similar rights and duties, they should be treated in concert with their natural characteristics and predispositions. The subordinate position of women has been justified by women’s proneness to emotionality. Both sexes are equipped with reason and emotions. In men, reason presides over emotion, whereas in women the order is reversed. Decision-making in the public sphere requires balanced rationality and is therefore men’s responsibility. For the ideal woman, this is a relief, as the gendered division of labour saves her from heavy public duties and leaves room for obligations in the private sphere for which she is naturally suited. Love is the form of recognition that accords with her congenital characteristics. The gendered ontology has it that women have a specific need for loving relationships and are therefore more dependent on the loving acknowledgement of their spouses than men. The need goes hand in hand with women’s capacity to love their near ones, especially their children, in

Creating Irrelations  179 an unselfish, even self-sacrificing way. As such love is the basis of sound development and an integral element of well-being, it is actually the women in the private sphere, not the men on the public arena, who are more important for a morally balanced communal life.11 Combining love and sexuality has been difficult for this gendered system. Since St. Augustine, sexual urges have been connected to human sinfulness.12 For the Roman Catholic Church, celibacy was long the sign of a higher spiritual status (Voice of the Faithful 2013). Combining purity of the spirit and human procreation found its way in the figure of the Virgin Mother (Lee 2019). In mainstream Protestantism, marriage was the way to tame and direct sexuality (Witte 2015). The apex of the distinctively female was the nineteenth-century idealized woman, whose moral characteristics were considered to be much greater than a man’s. She would sacrifice herself for the sake of her husband and children and quietly bear the flaws and weaknesses of her husband – whose moral constitution was weaker than hers. She would dedicate herself to her children’s welfare, putting her own wishes and aspirations aside (Wilson 2003, 314–315).13 Because of the innate moral differences between men and women, moral transgressions, especially of a sexual kind, were deemed to be such not according to the act but by whether the agent was a man or a woman (Wilson 2003, 206–209). There still lives a widespread belief that a hidden aspect of female sexuality is the secret wish to be taken by force or raped by a man (see, e.g., Nicolson 2000, 6; Armstrong 2018, 239). In a gendered system of recognition, the ideal male and female characteristics are generalized and taken as descriptions of real men and women (Butler 1999, 182). If there is a mismatch, the normative nature of the sexed attributes comes first, not the real person: if an individual man or woman is not living up to this ideal, something must be wrong with the individual man or woman. To be acknowledged as a person, one must identify oneself as a member of the socially determined sex and the characteristics attached to the idealized representation of one’s gender. In a repressive gender system, recognition reinforces the positions that maintain the unjust power structures. Not receiving recognition from the representatives of such a system could then be a sign of a person’s autonomy and ability to create a non-repressive identity (Butler 1999, 188–190; Lepold 2018, 479–480). Failure to reach the ideal has an impact on forms of recognition. In these systems, women who fall short of the modelled female do not deserve esteem. With high and demanding ideals, not much is needed for a fall from the pedestal. Not long ago, a woman’s honour was invested in her chastity, even in Western societies, so even a hint of inopportune behaviour was dangerous.14 Because the natural – particularly sexual – urges of men have been claimed to be different from those of women, the standards of (sexual) morality for men have been different too. In the Victorian era, widespread prostitution was the male solution to the

180  Jaana Hallamaa discrepancy between living among very chaste women and a widely approved need to find an outlet for one’s sexual urges.15 In a gendered system, women who do not deserve the esteem reserved for the ideal female also fall outside the norms of chivalry. They run the risk of being labelled as tainted, not worthy of male protection and polite forms of conduct. Ironically, having had to earn their living, such women might have gained privileges – freedom of movement and means of their own – unknown to their decent sisters (Wilson 2003, 310–311). Especially for women whose class status had not secured them a good start at the marriage market, life as part of the demi-monde may have provided at least a temporary form of acknowledgement. Freedom acquired in this way is, however, precarious. To protect decent women and families, such women have always been under some sort of surveillance and control. Attempts to manage the ills of prostitution have traditionally been directed towards women. The rationale behind the deal is that men, due to their natural weakness, are easy prey for the lures of morally corrupt seductresses (Wilson 2003, 308–309, 315–316). The esteem reserved for the idealized woman is of a frail nature. Being acknowledged for one’s looks will not last long. Acknowledgement for one’s excellence as a wife and a mother has a strong moral undertone. The requirements are numerous and the control strict so the esteem may lie a long way ahead. Achieving it is difficult but losing it can take place in an instant. Another central problem is that a vast number of human characteristics fall outside the properly feminine. Intellectual achievement, artistic creativity, political wisdom, and talents of leadership have long been properties reserved for men only. The criteria of esteem are often limited in the sense that they relate to some specific field of life such as one’s work or achievements in a field of sports or branch of art. Esteem for the idealized woman is different, for the criteria have a strong moral tint. They cover her whole person and being, not regarding only the features she has but also the talents that she as a woman is not supposed to have.

9.10 #MeToo and Recognition Theory The gendered legal order has been replaced by a system of human rights that safeguard equal respect for all as citizens. The ideal is that one’s sex no longer sets definite limits for one’s life prospects. The #MeToo campaign and the ills it has brought to light show that the gendered order still has us in its grip through cultural beliefs, social relations, and even legislative interpretations. The double nature of the gendered order as suppressing and idealizing women suggests that the forms of recognition and reasons why recognition fails are more nuanced than our overt ideology of equality presupposes. I end my chapter by presenting how failures of recognition are related to personal and cultural misconceptions. Table 9.1 summarizes the features of recognition proper and four types of misled or misplaced recognition. In recognition proper, non-gender-specific

Table 9.1  Forms of misled or inaccurate recognition Recognition proper; enabling full-fledged personhood

Individual or collective non-recognition failure due to lack of conceptual means

Identification

Accurate identification

No or only partial identification

Inaccurate identification

Biased identification

Discriminatory identification

Selective identification

Acknowledgement

Accurate acknowledgement of identity and person

Ignoring, disregard

Inaccurate acknowledgement of identity and person; downgrading the other on individual grounds

Overrated acknowledgement of identity and person; idealizing the other on individual grounds

Restrictive categorization of identity and person; denigrating the other according to ideological criteria

Overrated acknowledgement of identity and person; idealizing the other according to ideological criteria

Individual Individual Collective misrecognition surrecognition disrecognition on the basis of on the basis on the basis the other as an of the other as of the other individual; an individual; as a member inaccuracy due inaccuracy of a group to personal due to justified by prejudice personal ideological prejudice criteria

Collective ­pseudo-recognition on the basis of the other as a member of a group justified by ideological criteria

Creating Irrelations  181

(Continued)

Recognition

Well-founded, critically validated respect and esteem/love

—

Lacking or partial respect, inaccurate category of esteem

Placing on a pedestal, unfounded esteem, indulgent, uncritical love

Disrespect, disesteem or restricted and limited category of esteem according to ideological criteria, distrust towards nonconformists

Hierarchically structured categories of respect, esteem (and love) according to ideological criteria

Position of the recognizee

Co-authorship in normgiving, partnership in relations of esteem, and intimate gift relations of love

Invisibility, experience of exclusion

Partial invisibility, lacking self-esteem

Unrealistic self-esteem, disproportionate expectations of esteem and love

Distorted self-respect, restricted co-authorship in norm-giving, specific criteria for esteem (and lovability)

Unrealistic self-esteem, restrictive coauthorship in norm-giving, and criteria of esteem (and lovability)

182  Jaana Hallamaa

Table 9.1  (Continued)

Creating Irrelations  183 criteria of identification and acknowledgement correspond with the actual characteristics of the other. As truthfulness is a central starting point for sustainable recognition-relations, recognition proper may also take a critical turn. It is an eminent feature of respect and esteem that the other is treated as a morally responsible person worthy of justified criticism, as a discourse partner. Respect proper is an ideal in which individual instances of recognition have a socially justified basis. A code of human rights enforced by state authority protects and directs interpersonal recognitionrelationships. Equal respect makes members of the community morally worthy co-authors of norms that bind and protect everyone for the benefit of each and every one as a whole. Personal relationships are enriched by ties of love and friendship (see Chapter 3 by Laitinen in this volume). In non-recognition, the recognition process stops at its wake due to a failure – or refusal – to identify relevant features upon which to base acknowledgement and recognition. For the other, this means total or partial invisibility and may lead to social non-existence. Even when the source of non-recognition lies in the individual recognizer, its roots are social. Our perceptions of what is relevant and noteworthy are strongly determined by cultural beliefs. For the other, a state of involuntary invisibility is detrimental or even devastating, but it also deprives the community of the contribution the person could make should they be identified and acknowledged as a meaningful participant.16 Gendered non-recognition takes place when the characteristics and activities of a person do not correspond with gendered presuppositions. A person’s achievements remain invisible and therefore outside the spheres of recognition. I call the types of inaccurate recognition that arise from the recognizer’s personal prejudices or biases misrecognition and surrecognition. In misrecognition, the failure to recognize the other in a proper manner results in the attachment of inaccurate negative attributes to the other. In surrecognition, the other is imbued with positive features without proper justification. Here the personal reasons of the recognizer lead to a belittling or exaggerated estimation. Both types of inaccuracy have unfavourable effects. Misrecognition is unfair, and surrecognition inhibits the other from seeing themselves realistically. For the current theme, the most important and interesting types of misled recognition are what I call disrecognition and pseudo-recognition. They represent ideologically justified conceptions of the other as a representative of some socially identified group. In disrecognition, features of the other are identified as typical characteristics of a member of a certain group. Acknowledgement of the other then takes a disvaluing form gaining force from social preconceptions. In a gendered system of recognition, women who want to become leaders are disvalued for aspiring to positions that conflict with what is seen as their true nature and with the gender hierarchy. Relations towards those who deviate from the order are tainted by mistrust, and they may be sanctioned by scorn or even hate.17

184  Jaana Hallamaa Pseudo-recognition is the positive parallel of disrecognition. It manifests the ideological order by pairing the esteemed features with their proper carriers. In a gendered system of recognition, many socially significant characteristics are acknowledged as positive or negative according to the gender of the person. A praiseworthy attribute in a man is often a flaw in a woman. The subordinate position of women is evident in the phenomenon that feminine attributes in a man may lower his social status. The distinction between negative and positive types of misled recognition illustrates why non-proper recognition does not necessarily evoke feelings of injustice. If I can place myself in the gendered system of acknowledgement and find that the associated forms of esteem suit my personal aspirations, the prospect of equal respect and esteem based on non-gendered criteria may not seem an asset. For many men, gender equality is a threat because they must compete (at work, for example) against a great number of women who until only recently had no access to the arena. For some women, life outside the gendered system decreases the value of their specific characteristics. Using feminine assets rings as playing a foul game and taking advantage of the weaknesses of men in power positions. A woman who manifests masculine virtues may sometimes be accepted as “one of the guys.” Normally, social ideology demands that she is reprimanded for making herself ridiculous. The traces of the gendered order are easy to detect in social media where women’s “masculine” aspirations are labelled as sublimation of their lacking femininity. The verdict on such behaviour is summarized in remarks about, for example, not wanting to sleep with such women, even for money. In a cruder version, the disdain is expressed by recommending rape as a cure (Bartle 2000). Anger that takes a sexualized form makes visible the hidden power game. This has been the reason for feminists to maintain that rape should not be called a mere sexual offence. Germaine Greer takes up a similar point when she claims that we should expand the definition of rape to cover all non-consensual intercourse. As such, Greer argues, we would do better to consider that rape is more than just an extraordinary violent crime that should be punished severely, but is a culturally justified way for men to push forward their sexual desires irrespective of the wishes of the woman, regardless of circumstances (Brown 2018). Maintaining masculine power is an essential part of the gendered system of recognition. It is no wonder that shows of dominance also take sexualized forms. The man takes what he wants, and it is the woman’s duty to give. The bottom line of the gendered power structure is the Incel (“involuntary celibate”) movement, which claims that women who are not ready or refuse to give sex to any man at his wish should be punished, even killed (Chokshi 2018). The full extent of the effects of the #MeToo phenomenon remains to be seen. So far, the global movement has made and still continues to make

Creating Irrelations  185 visible perennial gendered power structures and the violence, exploitation, and injustice that they maintain, cover, and enable. The contribution recognition theory can make to the debate is to highlight the various forms that recognizing the other can take in social relations and to remind us and make us aware that not all forms of recognition-relationships are based on respect, esteem, and love.

Notes 1 Alyssa Milano (@alyssa_milano) (2017). 2 My point of view is poignantly Western. Although many of the issues I discuss in my chapter concern human beings globally, taking into account different cultural, social, and economic aspects goes beyond my resources. 3 I have used the translation of the letter provided by the New York Times. In Sweden, the Press Ombudsman (see Allmänhetens pressombudsman 2018) criticized several prominent newspapers for breaking the ethics code of the press because they had published the names of Martin Timell and Fredrik Virtanen whom several women had accused in the wake of the #MeToo campaign. 4 One of the three (male) Spanish judges argued that the group of men should be freed without any charges. The French case to which I refer earlier in this chapter is similar. The 11-year-old girl was not raped, according to the judges, because she did not fight back but let the 28-year-old man penetrate her. For a similar Finnish case from 2016 where the girl was 10 years old, see Mansikka (2018). 5 One of the most famous cases is Anita Hill vs. Clarence Thomas; see Carlson (2001). 6 https://www.nomeansnoworldwide.org/ Accessed July 18, 2018. 7 The one being flattered may suffer from deprivation of positive feedback and yearn to hear more. Only little by little does the exploitative nature of the relationship dawn upon the victim who may have given not only love but also great sums of money to the flatterer. Literature is full of such narratives; see, e.g., Mika Waltari’s play Gabriel, tule takaisin from 1945. 8 The situation resembles the opposition between romance and marriage pointed out by Illouz (1997, 39–42). 9 The Swedish author August Strindberg made this point clear in his Giftas (To Be Married) (1884) and Sista ordet i kvinnofrågan (The Last Word in the Women’s Issue) (1887). 10 There are plenty of novels to prove the point. 11 The ideology is clearly visible in Catholic teaching concerning the specific duties and privileges of women, even as recently as 1988: A woman’s dignity is closely connected with the love which she receives by the very reason of her femininity; it is likewise connected with the love which she gives in return. The truth about the person and about love is thus confirmed. (John Paul II, Mulieris dignitatem 30) 12 In his De Bono Coniugali S., Augustine restricted sexual intercourse to marriage, practiced solely for the purpose of having children. Carnal pleasure detached from procreation is a sin of lust that misdirects a person’s attention from God towards worldly matters. Augustine’s reasoning here is that sin basically consists in diverting one’s focus away from God.

186  Jaana Hallamaa 3 See also Coventry Patmore’s The Angel in the House (1854–1862). 1 14 Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice (1813) describes the horror of the Bennet family for the youngest of their daughters Lydia eloping with George Wickham, a minor officer in the military. The only way to salvage her honor and social future is to compel Mr. Wickham to marry Lydia. The corruption of Lydia’s character is further accentuated by the fact that she does not seem to understand that there has been anything wrong in what she has done. 15 Even today it is not difficult to find such patterns of thinking; see, e.g., Albats (2018). 16 For the forms and effects of invisibility due to non-recognition, see Gimmler and Heidegren in this volume. 17 A recent example is the Internet hate campaign against women in the computer game industry; see Zachary (Jason 2015).

References Albats, Yevgenia. 2018. #Metoo, Russian-Style: Russia Isn’t Ready for Oprah Winfrey’s Victory Speech. Op-ed., The Moscow Times, January 18. https://themoscowtimes. com/articles/metoo-russia-oprah-golden-goble-60187 Accessed May 30, 2018. Allmänhetens Pressombudsman. Pressens Opinionsnämnd. Årsberättelser. 2018. https://medieombudsmannen.se/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/po-pon-2018. pdf Accessed November 17, 2021. Appelsin, Ulla. 2017. Tärkeään Me too – kampanjaan liittyy vaikeita kysymyksiä – tässä niistä neljä. Ilta-Sanomat, December 27. https://www.is.fi/kotimaa/art2000005504011.html Accessed April 28, 2018. Armstrong, Leslie. 2018. Women’s Rights and Social Change. London. ED-TECH PRESS. Augustine, S. 2001 [401C.E.]. De Bono Coniugali and De sancta virginitate. Ed. and trans. P.G. Walsh. Oxford Scholarship Online. Oxford University Press. DOI:10.1093/0198269951.003.0001. Austen, Jane. 1813. Pride and Prejudice. https://www.janeausten.org/pride-andprejudice/pride-and-prejudice-online.asp Accessed May 10, 2018. Baker, Katie J.M. 2012. Death to Chivalry, Long Live Politeness! Jezebel, November 12. https://jezebel.com/death-to-chivalry-long-live-politeness-5967480 Accessed March 2, 2018. Bartle, E.E. 2000. Lesbians and Hate Crimes. Journal of Poverty 4(4): 23–44. CiteSeerX 10.1.1.196.9177; DOI:10.130/J134v04n04_02. BBC News. 2018. Pamplona Rape Case: Protests over Sentence Go into Third Day. April 28. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-43935380 Accessed June 15, 2018. Bennett, Jessica. 2018. The ‘Click’ Moment: How the Weinstein Scandal Unleashed a Tsunami. The New York Times, November 5. https://www. nytimes.com/2017/11/05/us/sexual-harrasment-weinstein-trump.html Accessed April 24, 2018. Brown, Mark. 2018. Germaine Greer Calls for Punishment for Rape to Be Reduced. The Guardian, May 30. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/ may/30/germaine-greer-calls-for-punishment-for-to-be-reduced Accessed July 22, 2018. Butler, Judith. 1999. Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity. New York: Routledge.

Creating Irrelations  187 Carlson, Margaret. 2001. Smearing Anita Hill: A Writer Confesses. Time, July 9 July 9. http://content.time.com/time/nation/article/0,8599,167355,00.html Accessed July 18, 2018. Chokshi, Niraj. 2018. What Is an Incel? A Term Used by the Toronto Van Attack Suspect, Explained. The New York Times, April 24. https://www.nytimes. com/2018/04/24/world/canada/incel-reddit-meaning-rebellion.html Accessed May 11, 2018. Codrea-Radooct, Anna. 2017. “#MeToo Floods Social Media with Stories of Harassment and Assault.” New York Times, November 7. https://www.nytimes. com/2017/10/16/technology/metoo-twitter-facebook.html Accessed April 28, 2018. Deb, Sopan and Brooks Barnes. 2018. Morgan Freeman Is Accused of Sexual Harassment by Several Women. The New York Times, May 24. https://www. nytimes.com/2018/05/24/movies/morgan-freeman-sexual-harassment.html Accessed May 26, 2018. Hallamaa, Jaana. 2017. Yhdessä toimimisen etiikka. Helsinki: Gaudeamus. Hallamaa, Laura. 2018. Ruotsissa #metoo-kampanja paisui poikkeuksellisen isoksi. Nyt kirjailija Lena Andersson kutsuu kampanjaa vaaralliseksi massaliikkeeksi, joka ajaa naiset ja miehet omiin poteroihinsa. Helsingin Sanomat, March 18. https://www.hs.fi/kulttuuri/art-2000005607978.html Accessed April 28, 2018. Heffernan, Margaret. 2012. Willful Blindness. Why We Ignore the Obvious at Our Peril. London: Simon & Schuster. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition. The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. London: Wiley. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2010. Making the Best of What We Are: Recognition as an Ontological and Ethical Concept. In The Philosophy of Recognition: Historical and Contemporary Perspectives, eds. Hans-Christoph Schmidt am Busch and Christopher F. Zurn, 343–368. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield. Illouz, Eva. 1997. Consuming the Romantic Utopia: Love and the Cultural Contradictions of Capitalism. Berkeley: University of California Press. Iser, Mattias. 2013. Recognition. In The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy, ed. Edward N. Zalta, edit. Autumn 2017. https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/ fall2013/entries/recognition Accessed April 28, 2018. Jason, Zachary. 2015. Game of Fear. Boston Magazine, April 28. https://www. bostonmagazine.com/news/2015/04/28/gamergate/ Accessed July 22, 2018. John Paul II. 1988. Apostolic Letter Mulieris Dignitatem of the Supreme Pontiff John Paul II on the Dignity and Vocation of Women on the Occasion of the Marian Year. https://w2.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/apost_letters/1988/ documents/hf_jp-ii_apl_19880815_mulieris-dignitatem.html Accessed October 15, 2021. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2018. Antecedent Recognition: Some Problematic Educational Implications of the Very Notion. Journal of Philosophy of Education 52(1): 178–190. DOI:10.1111/1467-9752.12276. Laitinen, Arto. 2010. On the Scope of “Recognition”: The Role of Adequate Regard and Mutuality. In The Philosophy of Recognition. Historical and Contemporary Perspectives, eds. Hans-Christoph Schmidt am Busch and Christopher F. Zurn, 319–342. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.

188  Jaana Hallamaa Lee, Dorothy Ann. 2019. How the Cult of Virgin Mary Turned a Symbol of Female Authority into a Tool of Patriarchy. The Conversation, December 22. https://theconversation.com/how-the-cult-of-virgin-mary-turned-a-symbol-offemale-authority-into-a-tool-of-patriarchy-127806 Accessed October 29, 2021. Lepold, Kristina. 2018. An Ideology Critique of Recognition: Judith Butler in the Context of the Contemporary Debate on Recognition. Constellations 25(3): 474–484. DOI:10.1111/1467-8675.12368. Lidman, Satu. 2015. Väkivaltakulttuurin perintö: sukupuoli, asenteet ja historia. Helsinki: Gaudeamus. MacKinnon, Catherine A. 1979. Sexual Harassment of Working Women: A Case of Sex Discrimination. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. MacKinnon, Catharine A. 2007. The Logic of Experience: Reflections on the Development of Sexual Harassment Law. Nova Law Review 31(2): 225–236. Mansikka, Heli. 2018. Korkein oikeus ei antanut valituslupaa: Yhdyntä 10-vuotiaan kanssa törkeä hyväksikäyttö, mutta ei raiskaus. Yle Uutiset, May 3. https://yle.fi/uutiset/3-10188274 Accessed October 29, 2021. Mauss, Marcel. 1990. The Gift. The Form and Reason for Exchange in Archaic Societies. Trans. W.D. Halls. New York: W.W. Norton. Milano, Alyssa (@alyssa_milano). 2017. Tweet: “If You’ve Been Sexually Harassed or Assaulted Write ‘Me Too’ as a Reply to This Tweet”. Twitter, Sunday, October 15, 1:21 pm. https://twitter.com/alyssa_milano/status/919659438700 670976?lang=en-GB. Millet, Eva. 2018. Viewpoint: Spain Rape Case Highlights Enduring Machismo. BBC News, April 27. http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-43924171 Accessed June 5, 2018. Mueller, Benjamin and Reuer, Alan. 2018. Arrested on Rape Charges, Wienstein Posts $1 Million Bail. New York Times, May 25. https://www.nytimes. com/2018/05/25/nyregion/harvey-weinstein-arrested.html?hp&action=click& pgtype=Homepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=first-columnregion®ion=top-news&WT.nav=top-news Accessed May 26, 2018. Nicolson, Donald. 2000. Criminal Law and Feminism. In Feminist Perspectives on Criminal Law, eds. Lois Bibbings & Nicolson Donald, 1–28. London: Cavendish Publishing Ltd. No Means No Worldwide. 2018. Home page. https://www.nomeansnoworldwide.org/ Accessed July 18, 2018. Patmore, Coventry. 1854–1862. The Angel in the House. http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/novel_19c/thackeray/angel.html Accessed October 29, 2021. Phillips, Tom. 2018. China’s Women Break Silence on Harassment as #MeToo Becomes #WoYeShi. The Guardian, January 9. https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2018/jan/09/china-women-break-silence-harassment-metoo-woyeshi Accessed April 25, 2018. Powell, Catherine. 2017. How #Metoo Has Spread Like Wildfire around the World. Newsweek, December 15. http://www.newsweek.com/how-metoo-hasspread-wildfire-around-world-749171 Accessed April 25, 2018. Rutenberg, Jim, Rachel Abrams and Melina Ryzikoct. 2017. Harvey Weinstein’s Fall Opens the Floodgates in Hollywood. New York Times, October 16. https:// www.nytimes.com/2017/10/16/business/media/harvey-weinsteins-fall-opensthe-floodgates-in-hollywood.html?action=click&contentCollection=U.S.&mo

Creating Irrelations  189 dule=RelatedCoverage®ion=EndOfArticle&pgtype=article Accessed April 25, 2018. Ryzik, Melena. 2018. Weinstein in Handcuffs Is a ‘Start to Justice’ for His Accusers. The New York Times, May 25. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/05/25/ nyregion/metoo-accusers-harvey-weinstein.html?hp&action=click&pgtype=H omepage&clickSource=story-heading&module=first-columnregion®ion=top-news&WT.nav=top-news Accessed May 26, 2018. Sarfonova, Valeriya. 2018. Catherine Deneuve and Others Denounce the #MeToo Movement. New York Times, January 9. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/09/ movies/catherine-deneuve-and-others-denounce-the-metoo-movement.html Accessed April 26, 2018. Strindberg, August. 1884. Giftas. In Samlade skrifter av August Strindberg, ed. Project Runeberg, dig. facs. vol. 14, edit. 1913. Stockholm: Albert Bonnier. http://runeberg.org/strindbg/giftas/ Accessed October 29, 2021. Strindberg, August. 1887. Sista ordet i kvinnofrågan. In Samlade skrifter av August Strindberg, ed. Project Runeberg, dig. facs. 1912–1921 edit. Stockholm: Albert Bonnier. http://runeberg.org/strindbg/eftersl/0273.html Accessed October 29, 2021. Thompson, Simon. 2006. The Political Theory of Recognition: A Critical Introduction. Cambridge: Polity. Voice of the Faithful. 2013. A Brief History of Celibacy. http://www.votf.org/ Celibacy-Ordination/Celibacy_BriefHistory.pdf Accessed October 29, 2021. Waltari, Mika. 1990. Gabriel, tule takaisin. In Mika Waltarin näytelmät. Originally published 1945. Helsinki: WSOY. Wilson, Andrew N. 2003. The Victorians. London: Norton & Company. Witte, John. 2015. Sex and Marriage in the Protestant Tradition, 1500–1900. In Oxford Handbook on Theology, Sexuality, and Gender, ed. Adrian Thatcher, 304–322. Oxford: Oxford University Press. World Health Organization. 2002. Chapter 6: Sexual Violence. In World Report on Violence and Health, 149–181. http://www.who.int/violence_injury_prevention/violence/global_campaign/en/chap6.pdf Accessed June 15, 2018.

10 How to Criticize? On Honneth’s Method Mikael Carleheden

In recent years, the meaning and role of theorizing in the social sciences have become a frequent topic of discussion (e.g. Abend 2008; Swedberg 2014). I have claimed that this new interest is related to an ongoing “turn to immanence” (Carleheden 2019). Highflying social theories developed in the last quarter of the twentieth century are today recurrently denounced as “aprioristic” (Lash 2009). Rather than being understood as tools for disclosure, they are criticized for acting as blinders and imposing “zombie categories” that prevent us from seeing what is happening in the world (Beck & Beck-Gernsheim 2002, 203f). Conversely, few contemporary social scientists would – at least explicitly – defend a conception that suggests that it is possible to circumvent the theory-ladenness of facts. It, therefore, becomes necessary to address the methodological question: What is it that we do when we theorize? I turn to a more specific problem in this chapter, which must be understood as being related to the aforementioned question: What is it that we do when we conduct a critique of society? The return of grand theory in the human sciences in the latter part of the twentieth century (Skinner 1985) included a normative turn, i.e. “a decided turn to ethical and moral concerns, not only as an empirical object but as a practical goal towards which empirical and theoretical investigations aim” (Alexander 2000, 272). In sociology, the “postpositivist persuasion” and “rehabilitation of the theoretical” (Alexander 1982, 30) led to the actualization of ‘the founding fathers’ (from the late ’60s and onwards, including Marx) and, thus, of a normativity rooted in German idealism. In political science, the renaissance of contract theory (cf. Rawls) offers an important example. Critique of society evolved as a special form of postpositivist theorizing. It does not only have knowledge of an objective world as its task but also the disclosure and criticism of injustices or “social wrongs” (Särkelä & Laitinen 2019). Such critique presupposes some kind of normative evaluation. Studies of prevalent social norms present an epistemological rather than a normative task. However, we cannot simply take such norms as points of departure for critique because they themselves might be unjust or wrong. All forms of critique of society in an academic context seem to DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-13

How to Criticize?  191 implicate a rejection of normative relativism in a strong sense.1 In order to make it worthwhile to criticize what is perceived as unjust or wrong, we must somehow be able to argue for this criticism. I call this kind of theorizing ‘normative reasoning.’2 In recent decades, critique of society has also been accused of a kind of apriorism; in this case “paternalism” (Celikates 2006) or even “intellectual terrorism” (Boltanski & Chiapello 2005, xiv). Theoretical reasoning in the dimension of the right and the good has been problematized on similar grounds as theoretical reasoning in the dimension of truth. Consequently, also in this former type, there has been a turn to immanence (Alexander 2000). This turn has been conceptualized as a shift from external to internal critique (Kauppinen 2002; Stahl 2013), from strong to weak critique or from strong to weak normativity (Jaeggi & Wesche 2009; O’Neill 2000). It challenges any neat distinction between ‘is’ and ‘ought,’ between theoretical or pure reason (truth) and practical reason (justice or rightness). My question in this chapter, then, is how to conduct a reasonable critique of society in the social sciences under such conditions. My basic point of departure in these matters can be grounded in both the Frankfurt School of critical theory and in Foucauldian theories of power and domination. Practical normativity of some kind is inescapable. As made clear in these schools of social theory, even claims of scientific validity include more or less implicit, normative conceptions and have normative consequences. Furthermore, sociologists of science have shown that the scientific ideal of value neutrality has never been accomplished. One way of examining this discrepancy between the scientific ideal and scientific practices would be to understand normative influences as mistakes that can be avoided with a stricter application of methodological rules or with further methodological improvement. Another way would be to acknowledge the unavoidability of such influences, looking instead for practical ways to handle them. Following the recommendations of Max Weber, normative presuppositions are made explicit, separated, and somehow sealed off. Viewing the problem in this manner takes for granted that normative presuppositions must necessarily be subjective and arbitrary. But why should we stick to Weber’s subjectivist – even Nietzschean – approach to normativity? Why not consider the opposite option, i.e. some conception of practical reason? Such suggestions must not implicate any strong notion of reason; rather, we ought to consider some weaker notion of normative reasoning in line with the turn to immanence. Such an option would not only involve acknowledgement of the unavoidability of normative presuppositions but also reflection of them (i.e. theorization over their meaning and validity). After all, to be reflective about what we do is a basic virtue of academic scholarship of all kinds. Actually, as soon as such an option is considered, it becomes evident that this is actually what theorizing in the social sciences has

192  Mikael Carleheden often been about. At this point, it is enough merely to mention concepts such as alienation, anomie, anonymity, the iron cage, reification, colonization of the life world, governmentality, patriarchy, colonialism, racism, heteronormativity, and so on. How do we theorize about such normative matters? This question is obviously demanding. In this chapter, I restrict myself to an investigation of Axel Honneth’s answer in his second opus magnum, Freedom’s Right (2014). This book can be seen as an exemplary case of critique of society for four reasons. Firstly, it is an impressive book. Honneth’s explication of the meaning of freedom and its significance for modern society is in many ways convincing and important. Secondly, as a leading member of the critical theory of the Frankfurt School, Honneth must be seen as one of the most important contemporary representatives of scholarly critique of society. His work is widely discussed and serves as a model. Thirdly, with Freedom’s Right, Honneth has not only developed a ‘grand’ theory of modernity but also made an explicit attempt to turn to immanence. The book has been described as “Honneth’s sociological turn” (Strydom 2013). His social criticism has shifted from being grounded in some kind of philosophical anthropology “to a more immanent ‘grammatology’ of modern recognition orders, such as Hegel sought to deliver” (Honneth & Willig 2012, 148). Fourthly, Honneth himself has rather extensively discussed his own ‘method’ of normative reasoning in relation to other possible methods. Thus, this case opens a discussion of its advantages and disadvantages in comparison to other methods.3

10.1 Normative Reconstruction in Contrast to Construction and Genealogy The critical theory of the Frankfurt School is basically and explicitly normative, in the sense of the ambition to connect theory with practice of some kind. It is a “kind of theory which is an element in action leading to new social forms” (Horkheimer 1975, 216). Critical theorists have always understood this normativity as immanent in some sense and to some degree (Honneth 2009, Chapter 2). Not only was the original aim of Institut für Sozialforschung to connect practical philosophy and interdisciplinary social science but also the philosophical part was based on Hegel’s critique of a pure and separated kind of normative reasoning (e.g. Locke or Kant). This intellectual heritage in and of itself provides good reason to choose Honneth’s thinking as a suitable contemporary case for the topic of this chapter. Furthermore, in Freedom’s Right, Honneth is explicitly critical about Habermas’ bending of critical theory in a more Kantian direction (Honneth 2014, 5, 35, 42f). Honneth’s general intention is to steer critical theory back to its ‘Left Hegelian’ roots and make this kind of theorizing relevant today:

How to Criticize?  193 One of the major weaknesses of contemporary political philosophy is that it has been decoupled from an analysis of society, instead becoming fixated on purely normative principles. Although theories of justice necessarily formulate normative rules according to which we can assess the moral legitimacy of social orders, today these principles are drawn up in isolation from the norms [Sittlichkeit] that prevail in given practices and institutions, and are then “applied” secondarily to social reality. This opposition between what is and what should be, this philosophical degrading of moral facts, is the result of a theoretical development that started long ago, one that is closely linked to the fate of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. (Honneth 2014, 1) Considerable parts of Freedom’s Right consist of discussions of historical and sociological investigations. In order to understand the role that such investigations play in the book, it is crucial to see that the Hegelian method of normative reasoning depends on “the living good” (Hegel 2008, §142) or “[t]he objective ethical principle” (Hegel 2008, §144). Honneth’s method is based on Hegel’s conception of an internal relation between practical reason and normative reality. However, he uses somewhat different terminologies when discussing the two parts of this relation, such as “theory of justice” and “theory of society,” “practical reason and existing social relations,” “empirical disciplines and philosophical analysis” (Honneth 2014, 5), “historical and social circumstances and rational considerations,” “reflections” and “empirical determinations,” and “a theoretical concept and the historical reality” (Honneth 2014, 56). The relation between them actualizes one of Hegel’s most discussed statements: “What is rational is real; And what is real is rational” (Hegel 2008, 18). It is tempting to claim that an understanding of Honneth’s method is almost all about making a sensible interpretation of this Hegelian dictum. Honneth frequently uses the term ‘method’ to describe his reasoning in Freedom’s Right, reasoning to which he refers as ‘normative reconstruction.’ Before discussing this method critically, I will present Honneth’s understanding of it. I will begin with an earlier essay by Honneth in which he, in contrast to Freedom’s Right, distinguishes this method from what he sees as the two major alternative methods (Honneth 2009, 44ff). We should, he claims, differentiate between three general contemporary methods of social criticism: • • •

Construction Reconstruction Genealogy

194  Mikael Carleheden

10.2 Construction The constructive method relates to ‘external’ or ‘strong’ critique. It was certainly important for overcoming normative subjectivism and thus for the rehabilitation of normative reasoning in the social sciences in the final quarter of the twentieth century. Today, however, it is often seen as paternalistic and despotic (Honneth 2009, 44). With this method, a normative yardstick is constructed, high up in the thin air of philosophy (pure practical reason), and only after completion used to assess the conditions of the social world. The relation between reason and reality is dualistically understood as external. In the attempt to escape paternalism, the users of this method pay the price of formalism and thus tend to retreat from formulating a critical theory of society and to be content with a theory of procedures and abstract rights. Kant is seen as the classical model and early Rawls’ theory of justice as the most clear-cut contemporary example (Honneth 2009, 47; 2014, 5). The constructive form of normative reasoning presupposes a hierarchical order between theory of justice and theory of society. The classical liberal conception of ‘the contract’ as the basic social theoretical metaphor fits this method well. A contract is first formulated, and only thereafter (a well-ordered) society arises. Hegel was one of the first to reject this notion of a social contract. On this point, he was only predated by Scottish enlightenment philosophy and its paradigmatic criticism of contract theory (Eriksson 1993). In contrast to Kant, Hegel was influenced by the Scotts and certainly would have agreed with Adam Ferguson, quoting Montesquieu: “Man is born in society (…) and there he remains” (Ferguson 1773, 27). Eriksson’s distinction in this regard between contract theory and sociological theory can be used to highlight the different socio-ontological assumptions related to the constructive and reconstructive methods. As often stated, the former – in contrast to the latter – seems to implicate some kind of anthropological atomism (Taylor 1985) – that is, what Sandel called a conception of an “unencumbered self” in his criticism of Rawls (Sandel 1984). Such assumptions have normative implications. Habermas (Habermas 1971, 72) once called Hobbes – the modern inventor of social contract theory – “the actual founder of liberalism,” and in Freedom’s Right, both the ‘negative’ (economic liberalism) and ‘reflexive’ (political liberalism) models of individual freedom are placed in relation to the constructive method. Conversely, unfolding the ‘social’ model of individual freedom requires a reconstructive method.

10.3 Reconstruction Normative reconstruction is related to ‘internal’ or ‘weak’ critique. However, as we will see, in order to distinguish Honneth’s method from other internal ones, we should rather see it as an attempt to find a way in

How to Criticize?  195 between the internal and the external (Stahl 2013). Reconstruction is about “transcendence from within” or “immanent transcendence” (Strydom 2011).4 In Freedom’s Right, Honneth explicates this method in four steps. The first is a social theoretical step, where the task is to decide the primary subject matter of the social analysis. While injustices are the raison d’être of critical theory, it presupposes some conception of justice. In this case, we also require a yardstick to determine what injustice is. In the first instance, Honneth turns to Hegel and his conception of ‘the objective spirit’ of a society (i.e. to ethical life: Sittlichkeit) but proceeds to classical sociology to find a “post-metaphysical equivalent” to Hegelian idealism (Honneth 2015, 207). The basic point of departure for classical sociology is, then, How is modern society possible? This brings us back to “the Hobbesian problem of order” (Parsons 1968, 89ff). As mentioned earlier, sociology in this sense is to be seen as an alternative to social contract theory and involves a rejection of atomism and a dualistic understanding of the relation between the individual and society. Hence, Hobbes’ normative model of negative freedom – that is, freedom from society – cannot be the answer. Rather, individuals must be seen as always already social (Durkheim 1973). According to classical sociology, “social reproduction hinges on a certain set of shared fundamental ideals and values” (Honneth 2014, 3). Thus, the starting point for a critical theory – perhaps somewhat surprisingly – should be the common norms that are constitutive for the reproduction of a society. According to Honneth, however, the social theoretical focus should not lead us to think that reconstruction presupposes a conception of a homogenous and consensual society or of a harmonious social development.5 [N]ormative ideas have the ability to shape and remodel social reality in accordance with their own content. It is in and through social struggles that their claims to validity come to fruition. (Honneth 2015, 207) We are here dealing with conflicts, but of a special kind – that is, “the moral logic of social conflicts” (Boltanski et al. 2014, 567f; Honneth 1996, Chapter 8). We must distinguish – at least analytically – struggles for recognition from struggles for self-preservation. Whereas the first step distinguishes the reconstructive method from crude conceptions of materialism, the second distinguishes it from crude conceptions of idealism. According to the second step, a theory of justice should be introduced on the same level as the theory of society. The normative basis for critique is not to be understood as a transcendent philosophical construction, but rather as being immanent in society. Thus, a theory of justice is to be worked out in close relation to a theory of society of the

196  Mikael Carleheden kind presented in step one. This second step is the crucial one when distinguishing reconstruction from construction. This is why Honneth, when working out a theory of justice, places so much emphasis on social theory. This might seem obvious; we cannot be critical of something without knowing what we are criticizing. In that simple sense, however, the theory of society is reduced to an object of application. It remains external and secondary to the theory of justice. Rather, the second step says that a theory of justice must take its point of departure in the ethical life of a particular society. However, a reconstructive theory of justice involves more than merely describing what goes on in our shared ethical life; not just any part of it is of interest. Honneth (2014, 10) refers to “overarching” and “generally accepted” values, which are constitutive for the reproduction of society. Reconstruction is about identifying these constitutive values. Such reconstruction cannot remain on the surface. We must be able to work out the meaning of these values. Also in this respect, Honneth follows Hegel’s Philosophy of Right, basically agreeing with Hegel’s point of departure: “[T]he right […] of subjective freedom, constitutes the middle or turning-point between the ancient and the modern world” (Hegel 2008, §124). Individual freedom is the constitutive value of modern societies. But what does freedom mean, presuppose and imply? Honneth’s answer is an elaboration of Hegel’s answer: we must distinguish between three interdependent but different notions of freedom: ‘negative,’ ‘reflexive,’ and ‘social’ freedom. The first notion can be clarified by turning to Hobbes’ liberal notion of freedom from external hindrances, which is a kind of freedom that can be protected by abstract rights and law. The second can be explicated instead using Kant’s notion of self-determination. It is based on subjective morality and conscience and implies a ‘retreat to the inner citadel’ (Berlin 1969).6 The third notion, on the other hand, can be understood by turning to Hegel’s critique of Kant. It is an intersubjective idea of freedom, which includes the relation to others in a social situation.7 The latter form of freedom obviously becomes the key to an immanent theory of justice. Freedom must be seen as internally related to the ethical life of a society. The third step is based on the idea of social freedom. It is about drawing a distinction within our shared ethical life between significant values, on the one side, and ‘social routines’ and ‘social practices and institutions’ on the other. We must be able to analyse the relation between these two sides of ethical life. Here, normative reconstruction “means categorizing and ordering these routines and institutions according to the impact of their individual contribution to the stabilization and implementation of these values” (Honneth 2014, 6). On this point, Honneth updates Hegel’s social theory in Philosophy of Right and distinguishes between three basic institutions of modern society: personal relationships, market economy, and democratic will formation.

How to Criticize?  197 The fourth step clarifies in what sense the reconstructive method is a method of critique. Here, the question becomes whether routines, practices, and institutions “contribute to the realization of universal [allgemeinen] values and ideals of modern societies” (Honneth 2014, 8). The ‘generally accepted values’ constitutive of ethical life offer a point of departure when criticizing routines, practices, and institutions. The significance of critique becomes apparent when we ask about the extent to which a society is institutionally organized in a manner that makes the realization of immanent ideals possible (i.e. in this case freedom). If society is organized in a way that does not support or even undermines the realization of shared fundamental ideals and values, ‘social pathologies’ or ‘misdevelopments’ arise. Critique should be directed against institutions, practices, and routines that “block or interrupt” the realization of such ideals (Honneth 2009, 20). According to Honneth, modern society is criticizeable, on the one hand, when negative (legal) and reflexive (moral) notions of freedom dominate over social notions of freedom and, on the other hand, when the institutions of social freedom are underdeveloped or developed in the wrong direction.8 In some ways, reconstruction resembles Horkheimer and Adorno’s conception of dialectics. In the section on legal freedom in Freedom’s Right, Honneth (2014, 83) writes, “We could even say that the law promotes attitudes and practices that block the exercise of the kind of freedom it enables.” This is a good example of the main thesis of Freedom’s Right. The modern social order is based on the ideal of individual freedom, but this ideal can undermine itself in different ways. One aspect of freedom can dominate over another in such a manner that freedom is damaged. One might claim that Honneth is working out a kind of dialectics of freedom located somewhere between Hegel and Horkheimer and Adorno. This attempt explains why not only social science but also history plays such a prominent role in Freedom’s Right. Honneth seems just as critical of Adorno’s negative Hegelianism as Hegel’s philosophy of history. He argues for a more empirical approach. We should investigate how and to what extent the realization of individual freedom is ‘blocked and interrupted’ by the actual understanding and institutionalization of this constitutive ideal of modernity.

10.4 Genealogy Foucault’s development of Nietzsche’s genealogy has played a significant role in the general turn to immanence in social theory. Also, in this case, claims of reason, truth, and justice are historicized and sociologized. Further, also in this case, immanent normative conceptions have been in focus. Honneth’s explication of the specificity of genealogy is brief:

198  Mikael Carleheden Here we do not find the critique of ideology’s confrontation of idea and reality but, rather, the exposure of society as a social happening that has long been bereft of any normative justification through credible ideals. (Honneth 2009, 48) The general aim is “to criticize a social order by demonstrating historically the extent to which its defining ideas and norms already serve to legitimate a disciplinary or repressive practice” (Honneth 2009, 48). Thus, it does not take immanent ideals as points of departure for institutional critique, turning instead the critical gaze towards these ideals, deconstructing their historical roots and revealing them as a means of domination. Genealogy is a “hermeneutics of suspicion” (Ricœur 1970). Genealogy does not resemble the evolution of a species and does not map the destiny of a people. […] The search for descent is not the erecting of foundations: on the contrary, it disturbs what was previously considered immobile; it fragments what was thought unified; it shows the heterogeneity of what was imagined consistent with itself. (Foucault 1977) Thus, from what has been said this far, it seems doubtful if genealogy should be seen as a form of normative reasoning at all. In any case, this method also depends on a particular ontology: So what is the principle that explains history? First, a series of brute facts, which might already be described as physico-biological facts: physical strength, force, energy, the proliferation of one race, the weakness of the other, and so on. (Foucault 2003, 54) Genealogy is built on an ontology of power (Saar 2008, 304; 2010, 14). The socio-ontological and anthropological implications are neither compatible with reconstruction and classical sociology nor with construction and contract theory. In contrast to the constructive method, genealogy takes part in the immanent turn and its conception of subjectivation shows that it – as much as the reconstructive method – presupposes the fundamental sociality of the individual. However, sociality in the former case is to be understood as a “strategical situation” (Foucault in Saar 2010, 15); that is, individuals are understood as involved in struggles for ‘survival and self-preservation’ rather than for recognition (Saar 2008, 303). Such an ontology seems to undermine any normative point of departure for social criticism. Genealogy, Honneth claims, is “a parasitical critical procedure, since it lives by presupposing a normative justification that it does not itself try to give” (Honneth 2009, 48). Hence, Honneth

How to Criticize?  199 appears to support Habermas’ critique of Foucault’s thinking as “cryptonormative” (Habermas 1987). In the conclusion to the 2009 essay, however, Honneth (2009, 51) does not simply dismiss genealogy. He understands reconstructive critique as the distinguishing method of the Frankfurt School but claims that ever since the shocking experience of Nazism by the first generation of this school, Nietzsche’s genealogical perspective has not been alien to critical theory. Still, in view of his criticism of Foucault, Honneth’s conclusion is somewhat surprising: [S]ocial criticism that has learned from the dialectic of enlightenment simultaneously delineates the norms at its disposal from two sides. On the one hand, the norms must satisfy the criterion of being socially incorporated ideals at the same time as they are the expression of social rationalization; on the other hand, it must be tested whether they still possess their original meaning. Today, it is no longer possible to have social criticism that does not also use genealogical research as a detector to ferret out the social shifts of meaning of its leading ideals. (Honneth 2009, 53) He completes the essay with the following: What thus emerges at the end of my reflections is the irritating circumstance that Critical Theory in a certain way unites all three of the models distinguished in this essay into a single program. The constructive justification of a critical standpoint is to provide a conception of rationality that establishes a systematic connection between social rationality and moral validity. It is then to be reconstructively shown that this potential rationality determines social reality in the form of moral ideals. And these moral ideals, in turn, are to be seen under the genealogical proviso that their original meaning may have socially become unrecognizable. I fear that what Critical Theory once meant by the idea of social criticism cannot be defended today, short of this extremely high standard. (2009, 53) One might imagine why Honneth finds his own conclusion irritating. In most of the essay, he has tried to convince us about the superiority of the reconstructive method before suddenly seeming to realize that we cannot do without the other two. In Freedom’s Right, he continues his one-way criticism of the constructive method. Genealogy is not even mentioned. Thus, he would appear to have abandoned the conclusion of the 2009 essay. In his major work, he seems to do what he in the essay claimed to be no longer possible. The reconstructive method seems after all to be

200  Mikael Carleheden Honneth’s answer to the question of how to conduct normative reasoning in the social sciences.

10.5 Discussion I will begin my critical discussion of Honneth’s method of normative reasoning with the peculiar discrepancy between his conclusion in the 2009 essay and his actual way of procedure in Freedom’s Right. In so doing, it becomes possible to discuss the advantages and disadvantages of this method in comparison with the constructive and genealogical methods. Firstly, can normative reconstruction do without normative construction in some sense? This question actualizes the role of scholarly critics in the critique of society. From a methodological perspective, it is unclear how Honneth proceeds when he determines the normative point of departure of critique. While a sociologist might have expected, for instance, a discussion of the World Value Survey and Ronald Inglehart’s work (e.g. Inglehart 1997), Honneth (2014, 6) emphasizes that this task cannot be left “to the empirical studies of social scientists.” As we have seen, when claiming that individual freedom is the core value of modernity, he can be said to be following in Hegel’s footsteps. The specificity of Hegelian theorizing can be elucidated further by quickly comparing it to two schools of critique that we have yet to discuss: communitarianism and French pragmatism. They are both close to the reconstructive method, but, according to Honneth, make excessively radical turns to immanence. Both could be labelled as examples of ‘weak’ or ‘internal’ forms of critique. Honneth takes Michael Walzer as the representative of the first school and claims that his purely interpretive method of critique “cannot really justify what makes the ideals from its own culture chosen to be a reference point normatively defensible or desirable in the first place” (Honneth 2009, 50). In the 2009 essay, Honneth argues that his own method can do just that due to its basis in a Hegelian notion of reason. According to this notion, reason is at work in the shared ethical life of ordinary people and in history through learning processes (i.e. reason is real). However, there is an interesting terminological shift in Freedom’s Right as compared to the 2009 essay. In the latter, the concept of reason is central, whereas the concept of justice is absent. In the former, justice takes the place of reason. This shift in terminology should probably be read as a further attempt to mark a distance to Hegelian metaphysics and to radicalize the turn to immanence. In one of the few places in Freedom’s Right where Honneth uses the concept of reason (within brackets!), he writes, “[T]he criterion of ‘rationality’ [is] applied to those elements of social reality that contribute to the implementation of universal [allgemeiner] values” (Honneth 2014, 8).9 Thus, in the theoretical context of Freedom’s Right, reason now can be exchanged for “institutions that guarantee freedom” (Honneth 2014, 1). An appeal to reason is an appeal to the value

How to Criticize?  201 of freedom – that is, to a value that is to be understood as immanent in modernity. However, is it not a consequence of this shift that Honneth’s critique of Walzer, quoted earlier, could also be directed against Freedom’s Right? Or might we go one step further: if negative and reflexive conceptions of freedom are dominating modern society rather than social – as Honneth claims – how can we criticize the former conceptions when claiming to proceed in an immanent manner? French pragmatists give a crucial role to justification practices in ordinary social interaction. From the perspective of Honneth’s non-metaphysical conception of reason, it is tempting to interpret On Justification as a book about the reality of reason (Boltanski & Thévenot 2006). However, even though Boltanski and Thévenot acknowledge the significance of ordinary normative reasoning, they are deeply ambivalent concerning academic scholars conducting critique. According to Honneth, they go so far in the direction of replacing what they see as paternalistic Bourdieuian critical sociology with a sociology of critique (i.e. their version of a turn to immanence) that they are no longer able to pursue a critique of society – “[a]s if they were driven by the bad conscience” (Honneth 2010, 385). In order to avoid paternalism, like the communitarians, they tend to restrict the possibility of reconstruction to interpretation and articulation of critical practices in ordinary society.10 Critical theory, on the other hand, cannot be content with – in Habermas’ terminology – an observer perspective. Its defining self-understanding includes the role of being a participant in the critique of society. This is its Marxist heritage. Critical theory is founded on what might be called an activist method of reasoning. Here again, however, the criticism that Honneth directed against Walzer can be turned around; what does Honneth methodologically suggest that makes it possible for the critical theorist to take this participatory role without becoming a paternalist constructivist? My answer is that reconstruction seems to involve a theoretical logic that Honneth does not mention in his methodological reflections – that is, what Charles Sanders Peirce calls ‘abduction’ or ‘retroduction’ and Taylor ‘transcendental argumentation.’ We are here dealing with a logic of inquiry – based primarily neither on induction (like the World Value Survey) nor on a kind of formal deduction that is only externally connected to the empirical world. Retroduction is an ‘inference a posteriori’; it goes backwards and aims to explain the conditions of the possibility of something (Carleheden 2014). It is a kind of analytical work, which is conducted in order to investigate the conditions of the possibility of a known fact; in our case, the ideal of individual freedom. In this way, it can logically be shown that the hegemonic understanding of individual freedom – in everyday life and academia alike – is insufficient. According to such an answer, Honneth is not primarily interested in convincing us that freedom is the constitutive value of modernity. He thinks that it is enough simply to point this out. The aim of the first part of his book is,

202  Mikael Carleheden rather, to explicate what freedom presupposes – both theoretically and institutionally. Individual freedom cannot be fully realized in its negative and reflexive form. This method of retroduction is not simply about description or interpretation. It demands normative analyses by the academic scholar, which might lead to a critique of the objective normativity of a society. Still, it is not detached from this objective normativity, taking it instead as the point of departure of the analysis. Thus, this form of inference seems to clarify a possible path between a weak and internal interpretive critique or sociology of critique, on the one side, and a strong and external paternalist constructive method on the other.11 Secondly, does Honneth in Freedom’s Right abandon his earlier acknowledgement of the significance of genealogy (in the Nietzschean sense)? Arentshorst (2015) and Pedersen (2015) seem to take for granted that he does not. I will argue that he does. As we have seen, in the 2009 essay, Honneth presented reconstruction and genealogy as two distinct methods of social criticism. Writing history plays a crucial role in both, and I would add that both entail some kind of retroductive logic (Carleheden 2014). The crucial difference between the two methods is that constitutive values are taken as normative points of departure for critique in the first case, whereas critique is turned against such values in the second case. In the former, we are dealing with “a normatively guided reconstruction of social development” (Honneth 2014, 63). The fact that pathologies and misdevelopments play a crucial role in the history of modernity that Honneth outlines in Freedom’s Right does not indicate that he there uses a genealogical method. To test ‘the original meaning’ of constitutive values cannot be to identify a mismatch between these values and their institutional realization. As we have seen, such analytical work is part of the reconstructive method (step four). Actually, as far as I can see, the very structure of Freedom’s Right excludes genealogical testing. In the first part, the meaning and social conditions of individual freedom are demonstrated by means of retroductive inferences. In the second and third parts, these normative findings are applied rather than problematized. Before discussing the consequences of this disregard of the genealogical method, I will return to the criticism of social theory for apriorism, which I mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. While empirical research tends to downplay the significance of normative presuppositions, social theorizing tends to downplay the significance of empirical observations. In the first part of Freedom’s Right, freedom is conceptualized through an analysis of scholarly texts in the history of ideas.12 The three models of freedom are discussed primarily through an investigation of the works of Hobbes, Kant, and Hegel, respectively, and the whole theory about the relation between these models and the different institutions of social freedom is a development of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. The use of social science and history first starts thereafter, in parts two and three. The

How to Criticize?  203 intention in these parts is not to problematize the original meaning of freedom, which was explicated in part one, but rather its institutional realization in the history of modernity. To be sure, the Hegel-inspired philosophical analysis in part one aims to incorporate a theory of society into a theory of justice. However, this methodological strategy does not enable us to overcome the “extremely damaging division between theoretical and empirical knowledge” (Joas & Knöbl 2009, 3). Theory of society is not treated as secondary by Honneth, but empirical social science and history is. In his discussion of Hegel, Honneth (2014, 55) writes, for instance, “[I]f the presupposed concept of freedom already contains indications of institutional relations, then the elucidation of this concept must produce the epitome of a just social order virtually automatically.” In order to mitigate the aprioristic implications of such a philosophical social theory, Honneth discusses the social role of both negative freedom, secured by abstract right, and the reflexive freedom of moral consciousness (and authenticity). These subordinated forms of freedom in Hegel’s philosophy open up some critical distance to the institutions of social freedom, which have been determined “in advance” (Honneth 2014, 58). Honneth also argues for a “processual” understanding of Hegel’s conception of justice (Honneth 2014, 61).13 I cannot discuss these mitigations here. Ultimately, they do not change the general impression that the conception of justice, developed in Freedom’s Right, seems theoretically predetermined despite the claims of an immanent procedure.14 Actually, I would claim that the critique of the constructive method turns out to be a critique of atomism rather than a critique of philosophical supremacy. And further, Honneth’s abandonment of his earlier foundation in philosophical anthropology is not replaced by empirical sociology and history but by a socio-ontology. His ‘sociological turn’ thus seems limited.15 From a social science perspective, a philosophical social theory appears aprioristic. Facts are theory-laden but not theory-determined (Sayer 1992). Sociologists inspired by Peirce understand abduction just as dependent on induction as the other way around (Swedberg 2014; Tavory & Timmermans 2014). Theoretical and empirical research should be seen as interdependent and not hierarchically related. Honneth’s way of proceeding seems to shield socio-ontological theorizing from empirical research rather than confronting the two. I will indicate the problems with such a method in a brief discussion of his theory of social change. Classical sociology was based on a crude distinction between tradition and modernity. Social change was conceptualized in terms of a gradual transformation from the former to the latter. (Carleheden 2006). Modernity was understood as one, not many (Wagner 2000). Honneth seems basically to follow this classical conception (Knöbl 2018). Of course, Honneth acknowledges and discusses contemporary social changes, but in contrast to Beck, Bauman, Wagner, Boltanski and Chiapello, Reckwitz, and so many other sociologists, these observations

204  Mikael Carleheden of change do not lead to a conception of a new epoch of modernity. In this aspect, Honneth seems to be close to another neo-classical thinker (i.e. Habermas) and his notion of an ‘unfinished modernity.’ Strangely, Honneth holds on to the classical conception of modern change even though he has played a key role in a research project about the “structural transformation of recognition” (Honneth, Lindemann, & Voswinkel 2013). However, social changes are here conceptualized in terms of uncertainty, indeterminacy, instability, flexibility, anomie, brutalization, and crisis rather than as a rise of a new kind of normative structure (Honneth 2012). The institutions of social freedom and recognition have, according to Honneth, become more inclusive in some aspects, but he claims that they have primarily become more fragile and unstable. Thus, his theory of structural change is one about the conditions of the realization of social freedom (i.e. of new kinds of blockages and interruptions) rather than about the original meaning of freedom. Again, we find a sharp division between a Hegelian socio-ontology and normativity, on the one hand, and empirical investigations on the other. Thus, the question becomes why we should follow Honneth’s example on this point. If we are to proceed immanently, why not empirically investigate whether the constitutive values of contemporary society might also be included in the structural transformation of society? Might a new epoch of modernity or a postmodern (in its literal sense) social order be under development? Or perhaps the meaning of freedom is under fundamental change? Maybe the specific institutions of freedom, which Honneth points at, are not the crucial ones for realizing freedom and recognition – despite Honneth’s effort to update Hegel’s early nineteenth-century assumptions.16 Perhaps the very value of freedom as such is losing its constitutive role for social integration; i.e. the ethical life of society might be transforming in a fundamental way.17 These are rather open questions and do not build on empty revolutionary hopes of a completely different society.18 They are primarily questions about method. They simply implicate that we should not shield the basic theory of constitutive values from empirical investigation. At this point, one might suspect that Honneth after all is under influence of some kind of Hegelian philosophy of history. In spite of blockages and interruptions, reason is real and gives modern history its direction.19 However, we should then remind ourselves about the significance of the relation between theory and practice in critical theory. This relation should also be understood from the epistemological side. We might call it a Kantian or pragmatist conception of knowledge and science. Our objects of research are almost infinitely complex. Honneth talks about “the empirical disarray [empirischem Wirrwarr] of historical occurrences” (Honneth 2018b, 326). We cannot observe in any complete or neutral way. We must have a perspective, and this perspective is related to problems in particular times and spaces. Such problems are – at least

How to Criticize?  205 partly – normative problems. Thus, epistemological and normative reasoning – ‘is’ and ‘ought’ – are in some way interdependent. Honneth’s answer to Wolfgang Knöbl’s sociological criticism of Freedom’s Right is in this context important (Honneth 2018b; Knöbl 2018). Honneth writes that normative reconstruction implicates that one should not exclusively rely on an observer perspective on history. Rather, one should write history ‘from below.’ On should take the perspective of the participants of history, i.e. “the struggles of so far disadvantage groups” (Honneth 2018b, 325f). His book, he continues, had a ‘therapeutic aim’ to motivate disadvantaged people by giving a suggestion of how we could go on in our efforts to realize freedom (Honneth 2018b, 326). Thus, Honneth sees himself as a participant in the struggle for justice by means of writing a history of modernity. This is not surprising. It is the classical ambition of a critical theorist: “His profession is the struggle of which his own thinking is a part” (Horkheimer 1975, 216). Of course, this does not mean that an immanent critique of society can escape empirical support. We must be able to relate normative reasoning and empirical investigations (Honneth 2018b, 324). This brings us back to the problem mentioned earlier. The Hegelian idea that freedom is the constitutive value of contemporary society is not empirically investigated in Freedom’s Right but taken as a point of departure. I will here only indicate why that is problematic by mentioning one significant example. In one of his discussions with his critics, Honneth claims (Honneth 2015, 209), “[W]e are utterly incapable of imagining a future in which the principle of free subjectivity is replaced by some higher, superior principle.” He continues, Exceptions to this rule can probably only be found in the “ecological” and “climate change” movements; it is difficult, but perhaps not impossible, to demonstrate some implicit relation to the freedom principle in these cases. Outside of these cases, however, I only see clear evidence for my position. After this brief comment, he merely put this exception aside as if he was dealing here with some minor anomaly. However, climate change is surely not some peripheral incident that can be ignored. As the already extensive discussion about the Anthropocene has shown, it will have a profound impact on our way of life. All three models of freedom that Honneth discusses (negative, reflexive, and social freedom) are without doubt deeply anthropocentric notions, which more or less tacitly reify the non-human (Carleheden & Schultz 2022). In contrast, in the ecological and climate change movements, which Honneth acknowledges for a split second, normative conceptions of responsibility for the non-human and of human and non-human interdependence are under tentative development. In this context, freedom seems to have lost its original meaning.

206  Mikael Carleheden This development actualizes what Honneth (Honneth 2000) once discussed under the heading ‘disclosing critique’ – a form of critique that is close to genealogy and not included in Freedom’s Right. Honneth used this concept of critique to capture the form of critique that Horkheimer and Adorno were pursuing in Dialectic of Enlightenment; that is, probably the work within critical theory that is mostly influenced by genealogy. This form of critique is about “transcending the given value horizons by means of world-disclosing critique” (Honneth 2000, 118). Honneth’s understanding of this method of critique comes close to David Owen’s notion of genealogy. Owen writes about genealogy as a method to free oneself from being captured by a picture or a perspective. Here, captivity refers to our subjectivity, reflexivity, judgements, justifications, and actions being dependent on a particular perspective. Through problematization, one is able “to free oneself from captivity to the picture or perspective in question by seeing it as one picture or perspective among many possible pictures or perspectives” (Owen 2002, 218). ‘Aspectival captivity’ is about a closure of what in fact are open possibilities. If we, through problematization, are able to disclose these possibilities, then they are primarily merely to be seen as other possibilities. Genealogical critique is directed against what Owen calls a “restricted consciousness” rather than a false consciousness (Owen 2002, 219). Historization is the crucial tool to escape aspectival captivity. What we see as reasonable, self-evident, natural, universal, obligatory, or necessary can be shown to have an arbitrary and violent history, which also in this case is related to a particular form of life (Saar 2008). Such historization makes it possible “to free ourselves from ourselves,” to “alter one’s way of looking at things” (Tully in Owen, 221f). From the perspective of climate change, one might claim that Freedom’s Right offers another example of Hegel’s owl of Minerva only taking flight when a “form of life has become old” (Hegel 2008, 20). Today, the anthropocentric interpretations of freedom are undoubtedly related to the most violent consequences thinkable. The planet earth, as we know it, is on the brink of eradication. It also places the historical relations between the human and non-human in modern times in a new perspective.20

10.6 Conclusion In this chapter, I have turned Honneth against himself in order to reflect on the meaning and role of normative reasoning in the social sciences. Unlike Honneth himself, I do not find the hesitant conclusion of his 2009 essay irritating. On the contrary, if we take a step back from the history of polemical struggles between the different schools of critique and review them from some distance, it becomes obvious that they have all made substantial contributions to our understanding of injustices and social wrongs in the contemporary world. I cannot substantiate that claim here, but if it is true to at least some extent, then none of the

How to Criticize?  207 methods of these schools can be dismissed as simply flawed. I agree with Abbott, who argues from a pragmatic perspective that the choice of method should depend on the problem to be solved (Abbott 2004). There is no one procedure that can be used in all kinds of investigations. The task that Honneth takes on in Freedom’s Right is that of a ‘grand’ critical social theory. To be fulfilled, different methods are required to disclose different kinds of injustices and social transformations. However, in some fundamental socio-ontological, anthropological, and normative aspects, these schools, as we have seen, seem to contradict one another. Honneth correctly claims that it would be a huge task to fully work out the methodological consequences of the “extremely high standard” that he suggests at the end of his essay. This certainly has not been done in this chapter. In addition to supporting the significance of reconstruction as a method of critique, however, I have tried to take a few further steps. I have shown that reconstruction includes a constructive element without aprioristic consequences by pointing out its inherently retroductive logic. I have also argued that reconstruction cannot stand alone in a social scientific context. The pure application of the results of the reconstructive method in part one of Freedom’s Right has the consequence that socioontological and normative theorizing are protected from empirical interrogation. A supplementation by the genealogical method and disclosing critique would make it possible to include fundamental social change in the critical investigation. Critique of society as a significant part of the social sciences presupposes a non-hierarchical relation between normative, ontological, and empirical investigations.

Acknowledgements Preliminary versions of this chapter were presented in different workshops. I would like to thank the participants in the seminar hosted by the Department of Government at Uppsala University, arranged by the ‘Reason and Affect in Divided Societies’ network and funded by the Swedish Research Council (June 2018); the conference “Recognition: Its Theory and Practice” at Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies (June 2018); the midterm conference of European Sociological Association Research Network 29, ‘Social Theory,’ at the Institute of Sociology at the Technische Universität Berlin (September 2018); the annual conference of the Department of Sociology at University of Copenhagen (December 2018); and a Workshop at Hamburger Institut für Sozialforschung (February 2020). Special thanks in particular to Anna Engstam, Carl-Göran Heidegren, and three anonymous reviewers for their valuable comments. This chapter has also appeared as Carleheden, Mikael (2021). ‘How to Criticize? On Honneth’s Method’ in Distinktion: Scandinavian Journal of Social Theory (Volume 22, Issue 3, pages 299–318) and is reprinted by permission of the publisher, Taylor & Francis Ltd.

208  Mikael Carleheden

Notes 1 The later Foucault’s discussion of critique and freedom is an illustrative example (Carleheden 2015). 2 I use the term ‘normative reasoning’ in a broad sense and primarily in contrast to purely descriptive or explanatory analyses. I include political, moral, and ethical evaluations, as well as critical analyses that do not build on any explicit normative standard. 3 There are many investigations about the meaning of social critique, which are more or less related to Honneth’s work. However, most of them were conducted before Freedom’s Right was published (Celikates 2009; Deranty 2009; Iser 2008; Jaeggi & Wesche 2009; Kauppinen 2002; Stahl 2013; Strydom 2010, 2011; Zurn 2000). Presentations and discussions of that book usually include more or less detailed analyses of the method used, but most of them do not have the method as its primary subject matter (e.g. Arentshorst 2015; Busen, Herzog, & Sörensen 2012; Pippin 2014; Schaub 2015; Zurn 2015). To my knowledge, there are only a few analyses that to some extent have focused on the method used in Freedom’s Right (Claassen 2014; Gaus 2013; Pedersen 2015). 4 Surprisingly, Honneth does not discuss Habermas’ conception of ‘reconstruction.’ Compare, for instance, Habermas’ distinction between ‘empiricist,’ ‘normativist,’ and ‘reconstructivist’ concepts of legitimation (Habermas 1979, Chapter 5). This neglect might be due to Honneth’s ambivalent attempt to include Habermas among the constructivists rather than the reconstructivists (2014: 5; 35; 42f). This is a problematic suggestion despite Habermas later turning towards Kantianism. As far as I can see, Habermas has remained a reconstructivist in method. He developed his theory of communicative reason in relation to ordinary language practices and his normative conception of democracy in relation to existing democratic practices (even on a transnational level). In other places, Honneth also claims that Habermas is perusing some kind of immanent criticism (Boltanski, Honneth, & Celikates 2014; Honneth 2009, Chapter 2; 2014: 345). However, there are undoubtedly important methodological differences between the two. In this chapter, I cannot systematically compare them (see instead Celikates 2009: 188–95; Gaus 2013; Pedersen 2015). 5 Compare the common (from the late 1950s and onwards) sociological conflict-theoretical critique of what Bauman entitled “Durksonianism” (Bauman 1976). 6 Actually, Honneth differentiates between two forms of reflexive freedom: a Kantian conception of autonomy and a romantic conception of self-realization or authenticity. Both forms depend on a subjective rather than an intersubjective logic. 7 These distinctions lead us to the content rather than to the method of Honneth’s theory. It cannot be further discussed in this chapter. 8 Honneth (2015, 214ff) has revised his understanding of the relation between social pathologies and misdevelopments. On the one side, we have the relations between the three forms of freedom (negative, reflexive, and social) and on the other, we have the relations within social freedom between the three institutions of freedom (personal relations, market economy, and democratic will formation). How one should relate these two relations is a complicated task, and I cannot address it here. However, the aim of critique cannot be to replace negative and moral freedom with social freedom. They are to be seen as interdependent. The normative question is, rather, how to understand their relation in the right way. Further, it seems difficult to deny that the

How to Criticize?  209 institutions of social freedom (and the relation between them) are also influenced by the dominating understanding of the relation between the three notions of freedom. Thus, it is difficult to uphold any sharp distinction between the two kinds of critical relations at play. 9 In the 2009 essay, ‘vernünftig’ is translated as ‘reason’ but in this book as ‘rationality.’ I am also skeptical about translating ‘allgemein’ as ‘universal.’ Maybe one could have chosen the less strong ‘general.’ 10 Boltanski has later developed his sociology of critique (Boltanski 2011; Boltanski & Chiapello 2005), but I cannot go into that here (see instead Carleheden 2015). 11 Transcendental argumentation is neither restricted to Honneth’s method of critique nor to theories of justice. For instance, it is crucial for Habermas’ work (Pedersen 2011). The difference between Habermas and Honneth can be explained by the different kinds of immanent practices they take as basic points of departure; in Habermas’ case, linguistic understanding and in Honneth’s case, the ethical life of modern societies. 12 Compare Pedersen’s (2015) discussion of Habermas’ concept of reconstruction in the case of an analysis of theoretical texts. Honneth has also briefly discussed method in this sense (Honneth 2018a). 13 In the English edition, ‘Prozessualität’ is translated as ‘procedural,’ which is confusing. I have changed the translation. 14 In this manner, Hegel seems to play a similar role for Honneth as Marx did for Horkheimer in his programmatic article on traditional and critical theory. 15 Honneth speaks about his “social-theoretic turn” in reference to his first major work, Struggle for Recognition, stating that his earlier “anthropological conception of personhood” was “too psychological and insufficiently sociological” (Boltanski et al. 2014, 573–4). 16 Beck mentions family as an example of a “zombie category.” (in Beck & BeckGernsheim 2002, 204) 17 Were this the case, one should perhaps take another look at Boltanski and Chiapello’s (2005) tentative method. 18 Compare Honneth’s (2015) answer to Schaub. 19 Compare Habermas’ (1979) distinction between “the logic of development” and “the dynamics of history.” 20 The same year as Recht der Freiheit was published, Honneth also published a working paper with the title Verwilderungen des sozialen Konflikts. This paper is part of the project about the structural transformation of recognition (Honneth et al. 2013). In this paper, Honneth partly uses the genealogical method. He explicitly writes about how institutionalized normative standards for recognition – he mentions subjective rights and the performance principle – have lost their original meaning (Honneth 2012, 17–18). He develops here what might be called a history of decline that stands in stark contrast to the history of modernity developed in Freedom’s Right. However, none of these versions of the history of modernity includes even a tentative disclosure of any new constitutive social values.

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210  Mikael Carleheden Alexander, Jeffrey. 1982. Theoretical Logic in Sociology. Berkeley: University of California Press. Alexander, Jeffrey. 2000. Theorizing the good society: Hermeneutic, normative and empirical discourses. The Canadian Journal of Sociology 25, no. 3: 271–309. Arentshorst, Hans. 2015. Social freedom in contemporary capitalism: A reconstruction of Axel Honneth’s normative approach to the economy. Studies in Social and Political Thought 25, 132–51. http://journals.sussex.ac.uk/index. php/sspt/article/view/31. Bauman, Zygmunt. 1976. Towards a Critical Sociology: An Essay on Commonsense and Emancipation. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul. Beck, Ulrich, and Elisabeth Beck-Gernsheim. 2002. Individualization: Institutionalized Individualism and Its Social and Political Consequences. London: SAGE. Berlin, Isaiah. 1969. Four Essays on Liberty. London, New York, etc.: Oxford U.P. Boltanski, Luc. 2011. On Critique: A Sociology of Emancipation. Cambridge: Polity. Boltanski, Luc, and Eve Chiapello. 2005. The New Spirit of Capitalism. London: Verso. Boltanski, Luc, Axel Honneth, and Robin Celikates. 2014. Sociology of critique or critical theory? Luc Boltanski and Axel Honneth in conversation with Robin Celikates. In The Spirit of Luc Boltanski: Essays on the ‘Pragmatic Sociology of Critique,’ ed. S. Susen, and B. Turner, 561–89. London: Anthem Press. Boltanski, Luc, and Laurent Thévenot. 2006. On Justification: Economies of Worth. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Busen, Andreas, Lisa Herzog, and Paul Sörensen. 2012. Mit Hegel zu einer kritischen Theorie der Freiheit. Zeitschrift für Politische Theorie 3, no. 2: 247–70. Carleheden, Mikael. 2006. The transformation of our conduct of life: One aspect of the three epochs of Western modernity. Distinktion: Journal of Social Theory 7, no. 2: 55–75. Carleheden, Mikael. 2014. On theorizing: C.S. Peirce and contemporary social science. In Inwardness and Orientation – Festschrift in Honor of Jussi Kotkavirta, ed. A. Laitinen, J. Saarinen, H. Ikäheimo, P. Lyyra, and P. Niemi, 428–59. Jyväskylä: University of Jyväskylä. Carleheden, Mikael. 2015. Dialogue and critique: On the theoretical conditions of social critique. In Democracy in Dialogue, Dialogue in Democracy: The Politics of Dialogue in Theory and Practice, ed. K. Jezierska, and L. Koczanowicz, 37–55. Farnham: Ashgate. Carleheden, Mikael. 2019. How to theorize? On the changing role and meaning of theory in the social sciences. In Contemporary Philosophy and Social Science: An Interdisciplinary Dialogue, ed. M. Nagatsu, and A. Ruzzene, 311–31. London: Bloomsbury Academic. Carleheden, Mikael, and N. Schultz. 2022. The ideal of freedom in the anthropocene: A new crisis of legitimation and the brutalization of geo-social conflicts. Thesis Eleven. doi: 10.1177/07255136221104293. Celikates, Robin. 2006. From critical social theory to a social theory of critique: On the critique of ideology after the pragmatic turn. Constellations 13, no. 1: 21–40.

How to Criticize?  211 Celikates, Robin. 2009. Kritik als soziale Praxis: Gesellschaftliche Selbstverständigung und kritische Theorie. Frankfurt am Main: Campus Verlag. Claassen, Rutger. 2014. Social freedom and the demands of justice: A study of Honneth’s Recht Der Freiheit. Constellations 21, no. 1: 67–82. Deranty, Jean-Philippe. 2009. Beyond Communication: A Critical Study of Axel Honneth’s Social Philosophy. Leiden: Brill. Durkheim, Émile. 1973. Individualism and the intellectuals. In On Morality and Society, ed. R. Bellah, 43–57. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago press. Eriksson, Björn. 1993. The first formulation of sociology: A discursive innovation of the 18th century. Archives européennes de sociologie xxxiv: 251–76. Ferguson, Adam. 1773. Essay on the history of civil society. London. Printed for T. Caddel, in the Strand; and A. Kincaid, W. Creech, and J. Bell, Edinburgh. https:// oll.libertyfund.org/titles/ferguson-anessay-on-the-history-of-civil-society. Foucault, Michael. 1977. Nietzsche, genealogy, history. In Language, CounterMemory, Practice: Selected Essays and Interviews, ed. D. Bouchard, 139–64. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Foucault, Michael. 2003. Society Must Be Defended: Lectures at the Collège de France, 1975–76. New York: Picador. Gaus, Daniel. 2013. Rational reconstruction as a method of political theory between social critique and empirical political science. Constellations 20, no. 4: 553–70. Habermas, Jürgen. 1971. Theorie und Praxis: sozialphilosophische Studien. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Habermas, Jürgen. 1979. Communication and the Evolution of Society. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Habermas, Jürgen. 1987. The Philosophical Discourse of Modernity: Twelve Lectures. Cambridge: Polity in association with Basil Blackwell. Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich. 2008. Philosophy of Right. New York: Cosimo. Honneth, Axel. 1996. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Cambridge: MIT Press. Honneth, Axel. 2000. The possibility of a disclosing critique of society: The dialectic of enlightenment in Light of Current Debates in social criticism. Constellations 7, no. 1: 116–27. Honneth, Axel. 2009. Pathologies of Reason: On the Legacy of Critical Theory. New York: Columbia University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2010. Dissolutions of the social: On the social theory of Luc Boltanski and Laurent Thévenot. Constellations 17, no. 3: 376–89. Honneth, Axel. 2012. Brutalization of the social conflict: Struggles for recognition in the early 21st century. Distinktion: Journal of Social Theory 13, no. 1: 5–19. Honneth, Axel. 2014. Freedom’s Right: The Social Foundations of Democratic Life. New York: Columbia University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2015. Rejoinder. Critical Horizons 16, no. 2: 204–26. Honneth, Axel. 2018a. Anerkennung: Eine europäische Ideengeschichte. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Honneth, Axel. 2018b. Erwiderung. In Ist Selbstverwirklichung institutionalisierbar? Axel Honneths Freiheitstheorie in der Diskussion, ed. M. Schlette, 311– 37. Frankfurt am Main: Campus Verlag.

212  Mikael Carleheden Honneth, Axel, Ophelia Lindemann, and Stephan Voswinkel, Eds. 2013. Strukturwandel der Anerkennung: Paradoxien sozialer integration in der Gegenwart. Frankfurt/M: Campus. Honneth, Axel, and Rasmus Willig. 2012. Grammatology of modern recognition orders: An interview with Axel Honneth. Distinktion: Journal of Social Theory 13, no. 1: 145–49. Horkheimer, Max. 1975. Traditional and critical theory. In Critical theory: Selected Essays, trans. Matthew J. O’Connell, 188–243. New York: Continuum. Inglehart, Ronald. 1997. Modernization and Postmodernization: Cultural, Economic, and Political Change in 43 Societies. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Iser, Mattias. 2008. Empörung und Fortschritt: Grundlagen einer kritischen Theorie der Gesellschaft. Frankfurt am Main: Campus Verlag. Jaeggi, Rahel, and Tilo Wesche. 2009. Was ist Kritik? Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Joas, Hans, and Wolfgang Knöbl. 2009. Social Theory: Twenty Introductory Lectures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kauppinen, Antti. 2002. Reason, recognition, and internal critique. Inquiry 45, no. 4: 479–98. Knöbl, Wolfgang. 2018. Das Recht der Freiheit als Überbietung der Modernisierungstheorie? In Ist Selbstverwirklichung institutionalisierbar? Axel Honneths Freiheitstheorie in der Diskussion, ed. M. Schlette, 31–51. Frankfurt am Main: Campus Verlag. Lash, Scott. 2009. Afterword: In praise of the a posteriori: Sociology and the empirical. European Journal of Social Theory 12, no. 1: 175–87. O’Neill, Onora. 2000. Starke und schwache Gesellschaftskritik in einer globalisierten Welt. Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie 48, no. 5: 719–28. Owen, David. 2002. Criticism and captivity: On genealogy and critical theory. European Journal of Philosophy 10, no. 2: 216–30. Parsons, Talcot. 1968. The Structure of Social Action (Vol. 1). New York: The Free Press. Pedersen, Jørgen. 2011. Habermas’ Method: Rational Reconstruction. New York: University of Bergen. Pedersen, Jørgen. 2015. Writing history from a normative point of view: The reconstructive method in Axel Honneth’s Das Recht der Freiheit. In Recognition and Freedom: Axel Honneth’s Political Thought, ed. J. Jakobsen, and O. Lysaker, 237–59. Leiden: Brill. Pippin, Robert. 2014. Reconstructivism: On Honneth’s Hegelianism. Philosophy & Social Criticism 40, no. 8: 725–41. Ricœur, Paul. 1970. Freud and Philosophy: An Essay on Interpretation. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Saar, Martin. 2008. Understanding genealogy: History, power, and the self. Journal of the Philosophy of History 2, no. 3: 295. Saar, Martin. 2010. Power and critique. Journal of Power 3, no. 1: 7–20. Sandel, Michael. 1984. The procedural republic and the unencumbered self. Political Theory 12, no. 1: 81–96. Särkelä, Arvi, and Arto Laitinen. 2019. Between normativism and naturalism: Honneth on social pathology. Constellations 26, no. 2: 286–300.

How to Criticize?  213 Sayer, Andrew. 1992. Method in Social Science: A Realist Approach. London: Routledge. Schaub, Jörg. 2015. Misdevelopments, pathologies, and normative revolutions: Normative reconstruction as method of critical theory. Critical Horizons 16, no. 2: 107–30. Skinner, Quentin. 1985. The Return of Grand Theory in the Human Sciences. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stahl, Titus. 2013. Immanente Kritik: Elemente einer Theorie sozialer Praktiken. Frankfurt am Main: Campus. Strydom, Piet. 2010. Reconstructive Explanatory Critique: On Axel Honneth’s Methodology of Critical Theory. Unpublished. DOI: 10.13140/ RG.2.1.1690.6645 Strydom, Piet. 2011. Contemporary Critical Theory and Methodology. London: Routledge. Strydom, Piet. 2013. Review essay: Honneth’s sociological turn. European Journal of Social Theory 16, no. 4: 530–42. Swedberg, Richard. 2014. The Art of Social Theory. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Tavory, Iddo, and Stefan Timmermans. 2014. Abductive Analysis: Theorizing Qualitative Research. Chicago, IL: The University of Chicago Press. Taylor, Charles. 1985. Atomism. In Philosophical Papers: Volume 2: Philosophy and the Human Sciences, ed. C. Taylor, Vol. 2, 187–210. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wagner, Peter. 2000. Modernity: One or many. In The Blackwell Companion to Sociology, ed. J. R. Blau, 30–42. Oxford: Blackwell. Zurn, Christopher. 2000. Anthropology and normativity: A critique of Axel Honneth’s ‘formal conception of ethical life.’ Philosophy & Social Criticism 26, no. 1: 115–24. Zurn, Christopher. 2015. Axel Honneth. Somerset: Wiley.

11 Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms in Contemporary Recognition Theory Heikki J. Koskinen

Contemporary recognition theory,1 based on Axel Honneth’s (1995) foundational work, is a well-established form of social and political philosophy. Among many other things, this interdisciplinary social theory with emancipatory intent very usefully conceptualizes intersubjective preconditions for the development of full human personhood and participatory citizenship. In his paper, “Is There an Emancipatory Interest? An Attempt to Answer Critical Theory’s Most Fundamental Question,” Honneth (2017b) drills into the normative core of contemporary recognition theory, which makes the paper an especially interesting one. In it, Honneth uses Jürgen Habermas’s Knowledge and Human Interests from 1968 as a starting point for working out the theoretical intentions associated with the very idea of a specifically emancipatory interest. At the same time, Honneth also aims to salvage Habermas’s central idea by giving it a more solid foundation. This line of thinking continues Honneth’s project of providing philosophical renewals or “new looks at old ideas” (cf., e.g., Honneth 2008, 2017a). His overall aim in the paper is to formulate a dynamic model of practical critique based on the hermeneutic openness of the norms of social integration, which contains a potential for social protest. Two aspects central to the discipline of critical theory are then taken to be the de-naturalization of hegemonic patterns of interpreting social norms and the uncovering of the motivating interests underlying them. Instead of Habermas or the wider historical background of the emancipatory interest, the main focus of this chapter is decidedly systematic in nature. My intention is to formulate a series of questions raised by Honneth’s highly interesting paper. The questions I raise are intended as sympathetic contemplations of issues that come up, and arguably also need to be considered, in connection with some of the conceptualizations that Honneth relies on and some of the points that he makes in the paper. The questions themselves are thematically connected, and they revolve around the central ideas of emancipation and interpretation of norms in contemporary recognition theory. In the concluding part of this chapter, I then link the Honnethian themes with the topics of pragmatism and naturalism and raise some further prospects, as well as questions. DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-14

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  215

11.1 Autonomy and Heteronomy: A Tension in the Foundations? Against the background of what might be called the heteronomical ethos of contemporary recognition theory, it appears noteworthy that Honneth opens his article with seemingly general and sweeping talk about “overcoming dependencies and heteronomy” (Honneth 2017b, 908). This opening registers so strongly because recognition theory is standardly understood as defined in direct opposition to an atomistic conception that presupposes as a natural basis for human socialization the existence of subjects who are isolated from each other. According to such an atomist view of the self, selves are self-contained and self-interested, and social relations are to be explained in terms of the way they advance the interests of the individuals involved in them. Since atomism thus seems to side precisely with the overcoming of dependencies and heteronomy, and to celebrate individual autonomy, a question is immediately raised at the beginning of the paper concerning the exact relationship between heteronomy and autonomy. In his seminal work The Struggle for Recognition, Honneth (1995, 14) apparently agrees with Hegel, writing about the latter’s thought that every philosophical theory of society must proceed not from the acts of isolated subjects but rather from the framework of ethical bonds, within which subjects always already move. Thus, contrary to atomistic theories of society, one is to assume, as a kind of natural basis for human socialization, a situation in which elementary forms of intersubjective coexistence are always present. So, if elementary forms of intersubjective coexistence are indeed always present, then it would seem that the overcoming of dependencies and heteronomy has to be an impossible mission. Later on in his emancipation paper, however, Honneth (2017b, 909) talks about “questioning and combating existing social orders insofar as they are characterized by relations of domination,” which shifts the discussion to more specific dependencies involving the use of power. Discussing Habermas, Honneth (2017b, 911) writes about a deep-seated interest in liberation from previously unrecognized dependencies and pseudo-natural constraints, so as to attain “a condition of intersubjectivity free from coercion and domination.” It would seem, then, that what is actually in focus in Honneth’s paper is not any general overcoming of dependencies and heteronomy, but instead a more specific liberation from coercive and dominating relations. This more specific aim is certainly a plausible one, but a principled question nevertheless remains as to how far the emancipatory process can or should proceed and which aspects of dependency should still be included and which ones should be left behind. If the dialogical and intersubjectivist conception is true, then it seems that there will always necessarily be some forms of social dependencies and heteronomies that cannot be completely

216  Heikki J. Koskinen dissolved. One way of putting this would be to say that with regard to individual persons, there is a kind of generic ontological dependence on other persons (cf. Lowe 1998, 141). The generic nature of this dependence means that any given individual is not rigidly dependent on any particular other person (cf. Lowe 2006, 34ff.) but in a more general way on there being some other persons with whom the individual stands in heteronomical relations. To the extent that it may not be fully clear what counts as coercive and dominating in these mutual relations of dependence, the tension between heteronomy and autonomy also remains unresolved. The unclarity and tension can be illustrated, for example, by the opposition between a Hobbesian atomist holding a monological vision of persons and a recognition theorist committed to a dialogical conception of the self. Presumably, the atomist would see the recognition theorist’s emphasis on heteronomy and fundamental dependence on others as something coercive and dominating. This seems to be exactly what the atomist wants to escape from with the emphasis on persons as competitive and self-interested individuals who only enter into society and accept its demands to the extent that this serves their particular individual interests. The very possibility of such a principled disagreement thus also points to the fact that what counts as coercive and dominating in social relations is not something that would be self-evident or somehow unproblematically given in discussions of emancipation. Moreover, the notion of emancipation as used by Honneth is closely connected with, and also in part dependent on, the idea of a social pathology. The adopted goal of a condition of intersubjectivity free from coercion and domination can only make sense within a normative framework that “employs an idealized model of the ‘normal’ developmental process of the human species so as to identify the ‘deviations’ from this process that have given rise to undesirable dependencies and thereby to defective forms of interaction” (Honneth 2017b, 912). The tension between (Kantian) autonomy and (Hegelian) heteronomy seems to be inescapable in the very foundations of contemporary recognition theory because, on the one hand, the goal is based on autonomy and human self-realization, while on the other hand, this goal is itself constitutively based on heteronomical relations and a generic dependency on others. Although we are supposed to be and to become autonomous beings, we are at the same time also recognition-sensitive beings who can be damaged by forms of misrecognition and non-recognition. As Honneth (1995, 174) writes in The Struggle for Recognition, unless one presupposes a certain degree of self-confidence, legally guaranteed autonomy, and sureness as to the value of one’s own abilities, it is impossible to imagine successful self-realization, if that is to be understood as a process of realizing, without coercion, one’s self-chosen life-goals.

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  217 Recognition theory thus effectively articulates three distinct sets of needs, with each form of recognition serving as a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for what is taken to be our normal and desirable path of development. The foundational tension between autonomy and heteronomy is further highlighted by Cillian McBride’s (2013) critique of what he calls “the recognition deficit model.” His idea is that our thinking about the ethics and politics of recognition has been decisively shaped by such a model which emphasizes a relationship between someone who lacks recognition and claims it from another who then has the power to remedy the recognition deficit by granting the recognition sought. According to McBride, this model does not do full justice to the complexity of our struggles for recognition (and, one could add, for emancipation). In particular, it diverts our attention away from questions of power and authority. Rather than in terms of a psychological need, McBride says, we should think of recognition in terms of a struggle for normative authority. Another one of McBride’s central critiques is that the recognition-deficit model presents us primarily as passive recipients of social recognition. Instead, he suggests, we should see that we have some autonomy in managing our recognition-relations. It is in principle possible to resist the recognition claims of supposed authorities, and it is also possible to value some alternative sources of recognition. Of course, it would seem that such autonomy in matters of normative authority already presupposes that autonomy itself has been able to grow and to develop within a network of beneficial social relations, which brings us right back again to the tension between autonomy and heteronomy.

11.2 The Potential Reach of an Immanent Argumentation Strategy? According to the dynamic model of practical critique that Honneth develops in his paper, social conflict is inevitable in all societies because the norms accepted by their members will continuously give rise to new moral claims that cannot be satisfied under existing conditions. The resulting experiences of injustice and of frustrated hopes will then motivate and give rise to new social conflicts. A central thought in this view is that the interpretation of socially valid norms is taken to be an essentially unfinished process in which one-sided interpretations and resistance to them alternate with each other (cf. Honneth 2017b, 913). It is precisely the hermeneutic openness of the norms of social integration that is seen to contain the potential for collective social protest and for gradual emancipation. In his paper (2017b), Honneth subscribes to what he calls the Hegel– Dewey view. According to this view, the source of recurring social struggles lies in the fact that disadvantaged social groups will attempt to appeal to norms that are already institutionalized but are being

218  Heikki J. Koskinen interpreted or applied in hegemonic ways. The idea is to turn those norms against the dominant groups by relying on them for a moral justification of their own marginalized needs and interests (Honneth 2017b, 914). When an entire group of similarly positioned people is denied appropriate recognition (we will get back to this notion in the next section), they can call into question the established interpretations of those norms by articulating creative and more inclusive re-interpretations. Such transformative re-interpretations of established social norms are then seen to provide a pragmatic way of emancipatorily expanding the reach of mutual recognition (cf. Honneth 2017b, 915). It would indeed seem to be a useful and practicable argumentation strategy to, instead of trying head-on to make others accept what they don’t, start with something that they already do accept and then try to show that this other thing actually follows from what they already believe and practice. However, some principled questions remain regarding such an ‘immanent’ argumentation strategy. One could ask, for example, How far is it possible to get with socially transformative goals by relying on re-interpretations of already existing and established norms? What is the potential reach of such an argumentation strategy? And what about cases of genuine novelty? In looking at historical examples2 of legitimation under morally sound expansionary re-interpretations of already existing norms, Honneth (2017b, 915) does acknowledge that this ‘revisionist’ approach was sometimes subsequently abandoned because the available norms proved to be too restrictive to accommodate the relevant demands, giving rise to a desire for altogether ‘new’ ideals of social life. If such a limit to the reach of the immanent argumentation strategy is actual, then it is also possible, and it, therefore, represents a scenario that needs to be systematically considered in connection with the dynamic model of practical critique. What is a group of people living under intersubjective conditions of coercion and domination to do when the oppressed group’s struggle for hermeneutic authority based on the immanent argumentation strategy crashes into a socio-normatively restrictive stonewall? One possible option would be to clearly restrict the domain or range of the strategy and to say that it works in some cases, but not in others. Honneth’s (2017b) willingness to consider the argumentation strategy to be the standard case of the genesis of practical critique could be interpreted as saying just that. What further complicates the picture is that the question of where the limits actually lie seems to be a contingent, empirical, historical, and contextual matter. It may well be that in practice, the emancipatory transcendence of the limits of current societies has to happen in small and gradual steps requiring patience and persistence, but in some contexts, the limits may be outrageously small and also extremely strongly fortified. Moreover, considering the historical dimension, there would seem to be no kind of guarantee against emancipatory

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  219 developments being set to reverse and leading to regressive instead of progressive changes. In any case, it would be very useful to have some further systematic clarification within the dynamic model of practical critique on how to proceed when normative stonewalls are encountered in interpretation and argumentation. While the focus in this section is on talk of argumentation and on the potential range of the immanent argumentation strategy, it should be noted that Honneth (2017b, 916) himself does not think of the struggle among social groups as a purely intellectual business or simply as a matter of argument rather than a tangible conflict. Although he steers clear of any idealizing reduction of social struggle to intellectual activity, he does insist that a normative-interpretative practice must be one component of critical behaviour if this behaviour is to be intelligible to those engaged in it, and, one might add, if it is to be at least potentially intelligible to those against whom it is directed. Honneth (2017b, 916) points out that conceptual and normative interpretations belong together with, and should not be artificially isolated from, outwardly directed resistance, insurrection, or rebellion. Even in setting fire to buildings, in occupying factories, or in erecting barricades in the street, the participants do not escape the normative space of reasons. They must be able to give at least a minimal account of the goals and legitimacy of what they are doing. Obviously, one option when reaching the limits of reason and rationality is to continue the struggle by the aforementioned means of tangible conflict. However, it would be interesting to hear something more on the role of argumentation and re-interpretation in the limiting cases, as well as on the more precise relations between the inseparable components of argument and tangible conflict. When considering how far into the socially and politically new or normatively novel we can get by relying on something old and already accepted, general systematic questions about change and continuity are raised. Another systematic question is how much implicitness we can justifiably assume in claiming to make something explicit in the expansionary re-interpretations of existing norms.

11.3 Normative Criteria and Recognitional Goals? The notion of appropriate recognition already came up in the previous section, and it was also promised that we would get back to it. In various places in his paper, Honneth uses normatively loaded expressions like “appropriate recognition” (2017b, 915), “legitimate expectations” (2017b, 915), and “seemingly legitimate concerns” (2017b, 917). It would appear to make little sense to talk about emancipation without some articulated and orienting idea of from what and towards what we are supposed to proceed with our expansionary re-interpretations of already existing norms, and with our aim of expanding the reach of mutual recognition. In other words, for the dynamic model of practical

220  Heikki J. Koskinen critique, we need a relatively fixed horizon of values and a reasonably clear normative telos. We simply cannot identify social deformations or pathologies without some sort of ideal conception of what constitutes normalcy or a healthy state.3 And indeed, it is precisely this kind of thing that Honneth (2017b, 912) sees as worth preserving in the earlier methodology outlined by Habermas. This is the idea that critical social theories should proceed in a reconstructive fashion so as to identify idealized developmental paths (we will get back to the notion of idealization in the next section) that can be conceived of as actualizations of already accepted norms and which can then be used to diagnose the deviations that mark de facto developmental processes. Without some such reference to norms shared by all the members of a society, Honneth (2017b, 917) writes, it would be difficult to apply the terminology of ‘justice’ and ‘injustice’ in a way that is publicly intelligible and open to public scrutiny. And as we saw in the previous section, this kind of public intelligibility seems to be exactly what is required for the immanent argumentation strategy to get some air under its wings. However, even after conceding the principled point about the general need for a telos, a pressing question still remains regarding the more specific normative content(s) presupposed: where do the concrete evaluative standards for talking about legitimate expectations, appropriate recognition, or progressive and regressive changes come from? Given that in our contemporary societies, there is a plurality of values, as well as a legitimate diversity of different identities and ways of life, there is also a multitude of possible substantive answers to what constitutes the telos. So even after granting the general point about the need for shared norms, we still have a problem of grounding the particular critical standards of social critique and emancipation in our hands. We might assume, generally speaking, that social pathologies from which we need to be emancipated refer to societal disorders, maladies, ailments, or misdevelopments that prevent individual persons or members of society from living good and fulfilling lives. The obvious next question then becomes: what constitutes a good and fulfilling life? Honneth’s answer, which he has formulated more fully elsewhere (see, e.g., Honneth 1995, 171), is based on a formal conception of the good life. This conception tries to avoid problems presented by the actual plurality of identities, values, and ways of life by abstracting from any particular substantive accounts. According to Honneth (2007, 36, italics H.K.), what constitutes the standard according to which social pathologies are evaluated is an ethical conception of social normality tailored to conditions that enable human self-realization. This ethical background condition is formal in the sense that it only normatively emphasizes the social preconditions of human self-realization, and not the goals served by those conditions.

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  221 Consequently, the focus here is not on any specific views or answers, but rather on the social preconditions of whatever it is that autonomous persons then wish to set as ends and pursue by rational means. In this transcendental type of argumentation, respect, esteem, and emotional support or love are understood as three distinct dimensions of recognition representing intersubjective conditions for the general structures of a successful human life. Although the idea of thus abstracting from any particular substantive accounts of the good life (which is something that also defines the need for and the direction of emancipation) is a very attractive one, there nevertheless are systematic issues and questions regarding the plausibility and possibility of such an intellectual move. For example, is it possible to abstract far enough in order to avoid commitments to any specific normative views while at the same time still retaining some content in the formal conception, and not making it completely empty? The very possibility of such a via media, or of abstracting far enough but not too far, is a structural question that we can raise in this connection. Another question related to normative criteria and recognitional goals has to do with the problem of how exactly to draw a distinction between a norm and its interpretation. The distinction is relevant because it seems to play an important role in Honneth’s (2017b) dynamic model of practical critique and social emancipation. This becomes apparent as Honneth (2017b, 917ff.) writes that the step from reliance on a traditional hegemonic interpretation of the established norms to its questioning and transformative expansion requires at least two central insights or epistemic achievements. First of all, the oppressed or disadvantaged (group) agents have to learn that any existing norm is amenable to a range of differing interpretations because the norm does not itself specify to whom and exactly in what way it is to be applied. Secondly, the agents have to develop an understanding of why, or on the basis of which interests, specific interpretations are actual and dominant within an existing social order. Taken together, the two cognitive elements of the awareness of the plasticity of social norms and the awareness of the reasons for their one-sided interpretation amount to what Honneth calls emancipatory knowledge. In the deepening or expanding of the semantic content of social norms through emancipatory knowledge and creative re-interpretation, Honneth thus seems to assume that there are two different types of things – namely, the norms themselves on the one hand, and their interpretations on the other. This distinction could also be seen as related to the immanent argumentation strategy discussed in the previous section. The norms themselves could, for example, be supposed to provide a common ground (cf. Koskinen 2017; Palmén & Koskinen 2016) on the basis of which an oppressed group could then try to de-naturalize the hegemonic interpretations and argue for their expansionary and emancipatory re-interpretation. However, if such a thing is assumed, we do need to ask whether the

222  Heikki J. Koskinen grounding distinction between a norm itself and its interpretation really makes any sense. This is because it could be argued that without an interpretation, there really is no norm at all. For what would or could an uninterpreted norm be like? If we accept a plausible-sounding view according to which by their very nature, norms say something (normative) about something, then it seems that we cannot have a norm without an interpretation. Saying something about something is fundamentally a matter of meaning and interpretation, and without the interpretation, there simply is no ‘saying something’ at all. Of course, we could point out that norms might, for example, be written down as texts, and these could then be interpreted in differing ways. And this does indeed seem to be the case in actual practices, such as where courts have to make specific interpretative decisions concerning normative legal texts produced by lawmaking institutions. Again, however, it could with some credibility be claimed that without some specific interpretation, the text itself constitutes no norm at all. Without an accompanying interpretation, the marks on the paper (or on the computer screen) say nothing at all, and therefore cannot function as norms either. Assuming that this line of thought is correct, it would seem that what we really have is not a norm itself and its contested interpretations, but just a variety of norms, which in effect are their interpretations. If norms and their interpretations thus cannot be distinguished from one another, then this also raises some acute systematic questions for the dynamic model of practical critique based on the hermeneutic openness of the norms of social integration. One suspects that in this systematic connection Honneth (2017b; cf. 1995, 115) might be thinking of something like T. H. Marshall’s historical account of the evolution of citizenship, in which three phases are distinguished. The first one has to do with civil rights guaranteeing liberty in the eighteenth century, the second one with political rights guaranteeing participation in the nineteenth, and the third phase then with social rights guaranteeing basic welfare in the twentieth century. Even when we may thus discern both an expansion of the list of legal rights due to persons and the increasing inclusion of excluded groups of persons into the class of rights-bearing subjects, the previous problematization concerning norms themselves and their interpretations would seem to remain in place.

11.4 A Supposed Contrast with Ideal Political Philosophies? When discussing normative criteria and recognitional goals, as we did in the previous section, we are more often than not talking about a sphere of ideals instead of actualized realities. Therefore, an interesting systematic issue related to Honneth’s (2017b) themes concerns the supposed contrast between his own interdisciplinary social theory with

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  223 emancipatory intent and what could be called ideal political philosophy. Writing about Honneth, Christopher Zurn (2015, 18) formulates this opposition in the following manner: The clearest contrast with Honneth’s project – and with all critical social theories – is provided by ideal political philosophies. The basic aim of such philosophies is to articulate and justify ideal principles of justice, rightness, legitimacy, and so on. The justified principles are usually understood as true and perfect simpliciter, that is, true for all time and perfect in the sense of there being nothing better or more ideal. In other words, ideal political philosophy focuses first – and often only – on explicating and defending the ideal normative standards for any perfect society. This is the primary aim, for instance, of John Rawls’s celebrated theory of justice as fairness. Later on in his book on Honneth, Zurn (2015, 94) continues, social philosophy starts not from a picture of ideal relationships that is then held up to a fallen world, but with society as it is and tries to identify deformations in extant social conditions which constrain the ability of persons to live fulfilling lives. So its method of pathology diagnosis is as distinct from moral and political philosophy as is its object: neither personal virtues and interpersonal obligations, nor legal systems and governmental policies, but rather the broader structures of social life to the extent that they form the conditions of possibility for the good life. Of course, Honneth cannot be judged by what Zurn writes about him, but the latter’s formulations are very useful in helping us focus on the systematic issue at hand in Honneth’s (2017b) paper itself: if we do operate with genuine ideals and provisional end-states that are not yet actually implemented or realized in existing social relations, as Honneth does, then how should we understand the supposed distinction between contemporary recognition theory, on the one hand, and ideal political philosophy on the other? Even if we did agree that Honneth’s recognition theory is much more sensitive to empirical evidence from the psychological, social, political, and historical domains than typical armchair philosophy might be, it could still be pointed out that the former also utilizes ideals, and therefore, the supposed contrast might not be as clear or as big as assumed. Indeed it seems that we cannot even have any discussion concerning emancipation or apply any method of pathology diagnosis without “a picture of ideal relationships that is […] held up to a fallen world” (Zurn 2015, 94). For what else is the formal conception of the good life than precisely such a picture of ideal relationships that normatively emphasizes the social preconditions of human self-realization (cf. Honneth

224  Heikki J. Koskinen 2007, 36)? And as we have seen already in the foregoing sections, in his emancipation paper, Honneth (2017b, 912) too thinks that critical social theories should proceed by identifying idealized developmental paths. Such abstractions and idealizations are also inevitably related to the personal virtues, interpersonal obligations, legal systems, and governmental policies that Zurn associates rather exclusively with ideal moral and political philosophies. So what should we think of all this? Perhaps there might be specific contexts of discussion where the supposed contrast between contemporary recognition theory and ideal political philosophy could be useful and also perform some desired conceptual or argumentative function. However, more generally speaking, there seems to be reason to think that the contrast could even in principle only be one of degree, or a matter of relative emphasis rather than a discrete either-or type of thing. ‘Ideal political philosophy’ would surely be useless if it were completely severed from any real-life concerns and situations. And even if we were considering, say, justice as fairness behind a veil of ignorance, or in an armchair elevated into an ivory tower, our intellectual considerations would still be heavily influenced by our everyday experiences and various anticipations and expectations based on them. On the other hand, when the picture of ideal relationships is then ‘held up to a fallen world,’ it provides a fixed horizon of values and a normative telos for actual empirical individuals, groups, and institutions, just as in contemporary recognition theory. It would seem that a commitment to idealization is something that in different degrees characterizes both Honneth’s project and ideal political philosophies. In a sense, then, both deploy forms of positive utopia that they cannot do completely without.4 For perfectly general methodological reasons, it could be argued that in any moral, social, or political philosophy, there needs to be an adequate amount of sensitivity to empirical input. Because of its emphasis on extant social conditions and historical developments, this aspect clearly is a strong and advantageous feature of Honneth’s overall approach. His interdisciplinary social theory with emancipatory intent seems to be grounded on a dynamic combination of top-down normative standards and bottom-up empirical research. The approach is explicitly exemplified in Honneth’s (1995) foundational Struggle, where he turns with the further development of his Hegelian themes to George Herbert Mead’s naturalistic pragmatism and to empirical work in psychology, sociology, and history. The second, theoretical part of the book thus starts from the attempt to develop an empirical version of a Hegelian idea by drawing on the social psychology of Mead.

11.5 Conclusions: Pragmatism, Naturalism, and Critical Theory? Although Honneth (1995, 71–72) mainly relies on Mead’s naturalistic presuppositions and “basic pragmatist idea” in The Struggle for

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  225 Recognition, he also utilizes the thought of John Dewey and refers to C. S. Peirce and William James in various places. Thus, it would seem that in Honneth’s work, parts of the traditions of both pragmatism and naturalism are intellectually incorporated. These connections open up some extremely interesting avenues for further questions and research, as well as a multitude of possibilities for collaboration between the traditions of critical theory and pragmatism. Peirce, James, and Dewey, the founding figures of American Pragmatism, all defended naturalism but developed it in a distinctive way by rejecting its reductive forms, and by emphasizing the centrality of social practices (cf. Bagger 2018). Pragmatism’s distinctive form of nonreductive naturalism appears to be very well-suited to the purposes of discussing and developing critical forms of social theory. The relationship also promises to be mutually beneficial since interaction, contribution, and stimulation can work both ways. Shared convictions about genuine inquiry having to be conducted in a consistently empirical manner and being responsive to real human problems (cf. e.g. Shook 2003) provide strong fundamental connections between the two. In the Anglo-American mainstream tradition of philosophy, the latter part of the twentieth century witnessed a gradual shift from pure analytic philosophy focusing on conceptual analysis towards a naturalized version of the discipline. In this development, the work of W. V. Quine played a central part (cf. Koskinen 2004). Philosophical naturalism that took science seriously and wanted to utilize the best available empirical information in discussing philosophical problems created a new kind of methodological outlook and science sensitivity for philosophy. However, despite Quine’s liberal understanding of the notion of ‘science,’ in its Quinean form, philosophical naturalism seems to contain just too many doctrinal strictures and reductionist elements (cf. Koskinen 2012) to be fruitfully utilizable in studying psychological, social, and political reality or discussing emancipatory knowledge in the context of contemporary recognition theory. When pragmatism’s emphasis on real human problems is combined with its empirical seriousness, we have a setting that contains much richer potential in this respect. However, a central question then becomes: Which precise aspects of which pragmatist and critical theory thinkers should we focus on? Another one is: Which particular fields of inquiry are taken to constitute the best empirical input or the most solid scientific foundations for contemporary recognition theory? It is very interesting to consider these questions in connection with Honneth’s (2017b) emancipation paper because there he seems to want to distance himself from the psychoanalytic assumptions of Habermas. Indeed, this is one of the crucial aspects of Honneth’s (2017b, 908) attempt in the paper to salvage Habermas’s fruitful central idea by supplying it with a new and less vulnerable foundation. This distancing from psychoanalytic theory becomes all the more interesting because in The Struggle for Recognition, Honneth (1995)

226  Heikki J. Koskinen himself relies on it quite heavily in the form of psychoanalytic objectrelations theory. Thus, one quite naturally wonders whether this indicates a significant temporal change in Honneth’s own position.5

Notes 1 I use the terminology of contemporary recognition theory because my personal research focus is on its systematic issues and conceptual developments since 1992, when the foundational writings of both Honneth (1995) and Taylor (1994) were originally published. This terminology is also useful for distinguishing my own approach (cf. Koskinen 2017, 2018, 2020) from those based more extensively on the historical tradition of critical theory or on Hegel scholarship. 2 These include the slave revolts in both the Americas, the civil rights movement in the United States, the European workers’ movement, and the British suffragette movement. 3 Cf., e.g., the discussion in Koskinen (2021). 4 The need for idealization becomes especially acute when we wish or need to resort to an ideal audience or “an alternative audience who would recognize my claims, were it presented with them” (McBride 2013, 156). This is also the case “[w]hen an actual public refuses to recognize our claims as authoritative we can appeal over their heads to the authority of a virtual public” (McBride 2013, 156). 5 This research has been partly funded by the Academy of Finland’s (2014– 2019) Centre of Excellence in Reason and Religious Recognition. I am also grateful to both Judith Green and Axel Honneth for the possibility of participating in the New York Pragmatist Forum workshop on pragmatism and critical theory at Fordham University in April 2018, where the topics of this chapter were discussed with Honneth himself.

References Bagger, Matthew (ed.). 2018. Pragmatism and Naturalism: Scientific and Social Inquiry after Representationalism. New York: Columbia University Press. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2007. Disrespect: The Normative Foundations of Critical Theory. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2008. Reification: A New Look at an Old Idea. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2017a. The Idea of Socialism: Towards a Renewal. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2017b. Is There an Emancipatory Interest? An Attempt to Answer Critical Theory’s Most Fundamental Question. European Journal of Philosophy 25(4): 908–920. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2004. From a Metaphilosophical Point of View: A Study of W. V. Quine’s Naturalism, vol. 74. Helsinki: Acta Philosophica Fennica. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2012. Quine, Predication, and the Categories of Being. In Categories of Being: Essays on Metaphysics and Logic, eds. Leila Haaparanta & Heikki J. Koskinen, 338–357. New York: Oxford University Press.

Emancipation and Interpretation of Norms  227 Koskinen, Heikki J. 2017. Mediated Recognition and the Categorial Stance. Journal of Social Ontology 3(1): 67–87. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2018 Antecedent Recognition: Some Problematic Educational Implications of the Very Notion. Journal of Philosophy of Education 52(1): 178–190. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2020. Mediational Recognition and Metaphysical Power: A Systematic Analysis. Journal of Social Ontology 5(2): 147–168. Koskinen, Heikki J. 2021. Recognition, Identity, and Authenticity in the Blues. In Recognition of Life: Theoretical, Ethical and Political Perspectives (Itinerari LX), eds. Stefania Achella, Francesca Forlé & Roberto Mordacci, 289–306. Milan: Mimesis. Lowe, E. Jonathan. 1998. The Possibility of Metaphysics: Substance, Identity, Time. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lowe, E. Jonathan. 2006. The Four-Category Ontology: A Metaphysical Foundation for Natural Science. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McBride, Cillian. 2013. Recognition. Cambridge: Polity. Palmén, Ritva & Koskinen, Heikki J. 2016. Mediated Recognition and the Quest for a Common Rational Field of Discussion in Three Early Medieval Dialogues. Open Theology 2: 374–390. Shook, John R. (ed.) 2003. Pragmatic Naturalism and Realism. Amherst: Prometheus Books. Taylor, Charles. 1994. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition, ed. Amy Gutmann, 25–73. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Zurn, Christopher F. 2015. Axel Honneth: A Critical Theory of the Social. Cambridge: Polity.

12 Institutionally Mediated Recognition A Vicious Circle? Onni Hirvonen

It is largely agreed that institutions only exist if they are accepted or recognized by those who participate in them. However, according to many contemporary neo-Hegelian theories of recognition, any practical form of recognition is always mediated by institutions. Thus, it seems that the collective acceptance of institutions is always already mediated by institutions. This chapter highlights the apparent circularity by, first, examining how the role of institutions and institutional recognition appear in contemporary recognition-theoretical discussions (Section 12.1). I argue that the potentially circular formulations are present in various contemporary accounts – the theories of Axel Honneth, Heikki Ikäheimo, and Cillian McBride being the example cases. Recognition theorists seem to tacitly accept the so-called collective acceptance model of institutions and, at the same time, they frame recognition-relationships as something that is affected and directed by social roles and institutions. The second main part of the chapter (Section 12.2) moves from the exemplary cases into a more analytical approach to the potential circularity between recognition institutions and forms of recognition. The first task is the clarification of the concept of ‘institution.’ Institutions come in different shapes, sizes, and forms. They are all normative systems but it is equally clear that allpervasive institutions like language and money are not the same kind of entities as more rigidly structured state institutions or corporations. By separating different kinds of institutions from each other, it is possible to glean a clearer picture of what is at stake with recognition institutions. While all institutions might require collective acknowledgement and recognition to exist, it is not as clear that all institutions are about our practical forms of recognition – that is, ‘institutions of recognition’ – or that all forms of practical recognition are restricted so completely as to stay within certain institutional borders. In Section 12.3, I direct the same analytical approach towards recognition. As institutions are dependent on our collective ‘recognition’ of them, the forms of recognitive attitudes that can be taken towards institutions need to be specified. The distinctions made here are readily available in DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-15

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  229 the literature: it is helpful to separate Hegelian interpersonal recognition from other related attitudes like identification and acknowledgement. Similarly, it is commonplace to distinguish vertical recognition of institutions from horizontal recognition between individual agents. Section 12.4 combines the analytical insights to argue that the ‘common acceptance’ model of the constitution of institutions does not require other attitudes towards institutions than identification and acknowledgement and thus avoids the circularity of ‘recognition.’ However, vertical recognition in the Hegelian sense might be an impossibility, as it would require that recognition institutions ought to be personifiable entities. The chapter finishes (Section 12.5) with a reconsideration of the nature of circularity between recognition and institutions. Overall, this chapter aims to show how the Hegelian theories of recognition potentially face a severe problem of circularity concerning institutions and recognitive attitudes. The gist of this chapter is that distinguishing between different senses of recognition and different kinds of relevant institutions helps to sidestep the problem. Furthermore, these distinctions are helpful in clarifying the role of recognition in the formation of institutions and the extent of institutional determination of recognition practices.

12.1 Institutions and Recognition – Outlining the Problem Right from the beginning of our lives, we are immersed in the institutional world and its practices. An average Western European person is born in a hospital, which can be taken as a centre of institutionalized care. Over the course of her life, she attends a range of educational institutions from kindergarten to elementary school and onwards to potential higher education. She might have a family of her own – one of the central institutions of modern societies that is commonly taken to be central for the reproduction of the society. Most likely she votes in various democratic institutions and uses money, which is an institutionalized form of exchange. Our average person might also take part in the practices of an institutionalized religion. Even in death, she is likely to be farewelled according to the institutional funeral practices of her culture. In short, institutions are always there, structuring our lives. Indeed, institutions are an essential part of our social life: they direct, structure, and constitute it, and our lives and identities are shaped by the institutions we participate in. However, there is another angle to the issue, according to which the very existence of the institutions depends largely on our will to identify ourselves with and within them. Realizing this double-dependency between institutions and individual agents is nothing new. The classic structure-agency problem1 highlights precisely this: which comes first, structures or individual agency? The structure-agency issue has pressed various theorists at least since the early stages of

230  Onni Hirvonen sociology, and there is no commonly accepted solution to it. Indeed, my aim here is much more modest than to attempt an ultimate satisfactory answer to the grand problem of the intertwinement of individuals and institutions. Instead, my focus is limited to a particular brand of critical social theory – namely, the contemporary neo-Hegelian recognition theories, which provide an interesting and hopefully fruitful approach to the classic problem. These theories deal with themes that are at the core of structure-agency issues but – at least so I argue here – their conceptualizations of these problems (and solutions to them) are unsatisfactory. At the outset, the Hegelian concept of recognition seems like a potential candidate for analyzing the relations of individuals within institutions, as well as the relations between individuals and the institutions themselves. After all, recognition as a term is commonly taken to denote the mutually constitutive relationships between different actors. In the following, three examples (1.1–1.3) of how recognition and institutions are conceptualized within contemporary recognition theory are presented. These examples aim to highlight the shortfalls and lacunae in the analysis of the precise role of institutions in recognition and institutional recognition.

Example 1.1  Axel Honneth’s Theory of Recognition Honneth’s materialistic rehabilitation of the Hegelian idea of recognition is the best-known of the contemporary recognition theories. Honneth (1995) separates three historically developed forms of mutual recognition, which can be traced and identified partly because of their distinguishable effects on relations-to-self. Each of the three forms of recognition – love, respect, and esteem – has a different positive effect on our selves, and each of them is targeted towards a different aspect of our personhood. The need for recognition can be described as historically conditioned but also anthropologically grounded. However – and more interestingly for the purposes of this chapter – each of the forms of recognition is also represented in the institutions of a society (Honneth 2003a, 138). In Joel Anderson’s (2013, 18) terms, they are dependent on a cultural ecosystem that can be understood as an institutional world.2 Following Hegel, Honneth (1995, ch. 5; see also Honneth 2014, 123–129) identifies family, markets, and the democratic public sphere (or law) as central institutions for modernity, and in these institutions, different aspects of recognition are taken as guiding principles. In a nutshell, the key thrust of his critical theory is that various institutions are based on promises of recognition, and when these promises go unfulfilled, the feelings of misrecognition and non-recognition that follow will guide social agents in their struggles for recognition (or for a better society).

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  231 However, as we are interested in the role of institutions in recognition, this overview of Honneth’s critical social theory as yet gives only one side of the picture. Recognition institutions are not only institutionalized forms of recognition, but they also guide the agents in their social interaction. To quote Honneth in length: The historical shape that these media take on in a specific social formation are what I term “recognition orders”. This does not mean that each institution merely reflects the content of intersubjective recognition; rather, subjects draw upon institutionalized norms in the course of recognition, because it is only in light of these institutions that they grant each other a normative status. These “recognition orders” consist of institutionalised normative structures that have grown up around the main tasks of social reproduction, while making the latter dependent upon the mutual fulfillment of obligations and roles. By taking on the appropriate roles, subjects grant each other a normative status that obligates them to respect their partners in interaction. Although this means that institutions exercise a certain kind of power over subjects, it would be wrong to ascribe to them a purely “constitutive” role in the formation of processes of recognition. (Honneth 2011, 403) In this passage, the double-sided constitutive relation between individuals and institutions becomes explicit. Institutions are in a partly constitutive relation to the individuals, but they also exhibit the intersubjective forms of recognition themselves. Though they are not purely constitutive, they do seem highly necessary: “Neither self-respect nor self-esteem can be maintained without the supportive experience of practising shared values in the group” (Honneth 2012, 214). Jean-Philippe Deranty highlights the previous interpretation in his reading of Honneth’s recognition theory. According to Deranty, the institutions of the state and economy are not mere embodiments of certain rational principles (like collective decision-making or market rationality), but they also depend on communicative or recognitive processes.3 Thus, institutions are best described as systems of recognition: Ultimately, all social institutions can be described as specific forms of interaction, as practices whose specificity, for example of being legal, economic or political forms of action, are best

232  Onni Hirvonen characterised in terms of the attitudes that human subjects take towards other human subjects in them. (Deranty 2009, 221) Although in this reading of Honneth’s account institutions are in a double-relation – constituted and constituting – to individuals, Honneth does not accept the idea that institutions or social groups are similar to individual agents in recognition. There are no collective macro-subjects (Honneth 1991, 275; see also Petherbridge 2013, 196–197). Instead, Honneth’s account of the institutional world can be described as ‘expressivist’ (Deranty 2009, 232). That is, institutions express forms of recognition, and in some sense ‘incarnate’ different types of normative interactions and attitudes that social agents take towards each other in their everyday practices. In this sense, individuals are primary in relation to the institutions, which require at least their tacit consent (see, e.g., Honneth 2003b, 250). However, this social ontology of institutions and recognition can be shown to be problematic. Firstly, as Deranty (2009, 332) argues, Honneth does not give a sufficiently detailed definition of institutions and their role in the socialization process of individuals. Although Honneth explicitly mentions the institutional mediation of recognition attitudes, this seems to be partly incompatible with the expressivist account of the institutional world. Emmanuelle Renault nails down this point by stating that [i]nstitutions not only express the relations of recognition, but also produce or constitute them. The mistake in the expressive conception of social recognition is to consider only the problem of the normative expectations directed towards institutions, and to fail to emphasise sufficiently that it is always within the framework of an institutional predetermination that subjectivities address demands of recognition to institutions. (Renault, L’Expérience de l’Injustice, 200, quoted in Deranty 2009, 349) Although Honneth shuns the option himself (see Deranty 2009, 232), a potential solution to ontological vagueness of the constitutive relationships and their directions can be found by introducing the concept of vertical recognition – namely, a type of recognition between the institutional (or collective) and individual levels. However, this solution is not satisfactory if we do not explicate the dynamics any further than mentioning the possibility of vertical

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  233 recognition. What needs to be explained is how the institutions themselves are constituted through vertical recognition, which supposedly is not exactly like recognition proper because institutions are not supposed to be macro-subjects that would be suitable objects of intersubjective recognition. These themes come under consideration in the next Example 1.2, which focuses on accounts that explicate the role and meaning of vertical recognition.

Example 1.2  Vertical Recognition The relationships of the individual social agents are commonly considered to take place on the same ‘horizontal’ level. In contrast, the concept of ‘vertical recognition’ is used to describe recognitive attitudes and relationships between institutions (or authorities upholding them) and individuals. Here the institution can be a singular authority (a tyrant), a ruling class, or the community itself (Ikäheimo 2013, 17). Vertical recognition can be directed from below to above, ‘upwards’ (as, for example, in cases of accepting the legitimacy of certain institutional rules and practices) or from above to below, ‘downwards’ (as, for example, in cases of institutions giving certain roles, rights, and permission to individuals). As Ikäheimo’s following passage shows, vertical recognition is closely connected to the horizontal forms of recognition: Recognizing the state is acknowledging or accepting its laws and institutions as valid or legitimate, and this means recognizing* fellow citizens as bearers of the rights or other deontic powers that the laws attribute to them (or that they have due to the state’s “recognition” of them). Thus, in explicitly talking about horizontal recognition* between citizens as bearers of rights and duties one is implicitly also talking about vertical recognition between citizens and the state. (Ikäheimo 2014, 82)4 There are two relevant aspects to vertical recognition. First, vertical recognition is implied in the horizontal (institutionally mediated) recognition between individuals, as this always makes a reference to institutionalized practices of recognition. This is close to Honneth’s expressivism in which institutions emerge from the interactions of individuals.5 Second, vertical recognition is taken as a legitimizing factor in the constitution of institutions. Without that

234  Onni Hirvonen kind of upwards-directed recognition, institutions and their rules – for example, the state and its laws – would not be accepted as valid. This, in turn, seems to go partly beyond Honneth’s expressivism, as he was opposed to the idea of taking explicit recognition attitudes towards institutions, although he did agree with the necessity of collective (tacit) acceptance. However, it is partly unclear what sense of ‘recognition’ is at play in vertical recognition. For example, in his analysis, Patrice Canivez, on the one hand, makes it clear that vertical recognition is asymmetrical, and it “does not concern two distinct, self-sufficient entities” (Canivez 2011, 855). On the other hand, he states that the Spirit (as the counterpart of vertical recognition) is a subject in the very literal sense and that any self-centred singular subjectivity is in fact impossible (Canivez 2011, 863). The ‘seeing oneself in the other’ logic that permeates horizontal recognition is very much present in the horizontal form as well: “In conformity with the formula of recognition, [citizens] recognize the state as recognizing them, and the state recognizes them as recognizing it” (Canivez 2011, 875). Here the state functions as an individual who can be in recognitive relations to its own citizens, its internal institutions (or in Hegel’s terms, corporations) that can have particular views of the general interests of the society, and other states that are similarly individual subjects. According to what has been presented, the sense in which vertical recognition is used becomes close to horizontal recognition. The exception being, of course, that the subjects (and/or objects) of recognition are social and political institutions through which the horizontal intersubjective relations are mediated.

Example 1.3  Cillian McBride’s Normatively Guided Recognition The previous Examples 1.1 & 1.2 focused on characterizing Honneth’s theory of recognition and critical responses that were at least partly inspired by it. The purpose of this third example is to show that similar ideas about the role of institutions are also present in other competing conceptualizations of recognition. Here the focus is on McBride’s theory of recognition, which emphasises the normative aspect of recognition and the sociality of norms. He sees that the “yardsticks we apply to ourselves and to others […] are essentially social yardsticks embedded in social attitudes and

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  235 institutions” (McBride 2013, 83). We need the guidance of the normative realm to be self-determining and autonomous. “One must be guided by those social norms which one can recognize as authoritative” (McBride 2013, 141). On the one hand, actions are recognizable insofar as they can be interpreted within a relevant normative framework. McBride identifies this norm-abiding structure of recognition as a structure that is present in all the different forms of recognition: This sense of ‘recognition’ seems to be more general than ‘recognitionas respect’ or ‘recognition as esteem’, but [this is] a clue to the pervasiveness of normativity and of its link to recognition, recognition that a particular thought, claim, or act has a particular normative shape. (McBride 2013, 148) On the other hand, recognition does not merely conform to a normative order but also constitutes it. All normative claims rely on recognition for their authority (McBride 2013, 152). However, it is left partly unclear what is recognized when a normative claim is ‘recognized.’ The possibilities are that what is at stake is some sort of general acknowledgement of a broader normative framework, or perhaps recognition of an individual agent’s act that has normative import and meaning within a normative setting. The latter interpretation sees – in parallel to the expressive view – recognition of norms as a side-product of individual interactions. Recognizing the normative framework is precisely the same as recognizing individual acts guided by those norms. McBride’s account presents also a further paradoxical element of the nature of agency in recognition-relationships: recognition-sensitivity and norm-guidedness are necessary to us as social agents, but at the same time, we are partly independent of recognition. This is to say, we are not wholly determined by normative frameworks or the institutional setting but can also take a critical stance towards them. There is no fully detailed rulebook of recognition, and the norms that are recognized are not external to social action or anything that exists ‘beyond’ social practices.

Taking stock, what seems to be hinted at in all of the previous accounts is something close to the ‘common acceptance’ model of ­institutions. Common acceptance theories in social ontology assert that it is precisely through the shared acceptance of institutions that the institutions

236  Onni Hirvonen stay afloat and alive. The acceptance does not have to be conscious, but it is nevertheless needed. Lack of trust in the institutions or the lack of following institutionalized practices leads to the disintegration and dysfunctionality of those institutions. This can be seen in cases like hyperinflation: when no one believes that money is worth anything anymore, people revert back to the more direct trade of goods and services. Perhaps the most well-known formulation of the common acceptance model was made by John Searle. He illustrates the point with an example: Consider for example a primitive tribe that initially builds a wall around its territory. The wall is an instance of a function imposed in virtue of sheer physics: the wall, we will suppose, is big enough to keep intruders out and the members of the tribe in. But suppose the wall gradually evolves from being a physical barrier to being a symbolic barrier. Imagine that the wall gradually decays so that the only thing left is a line of stones. But imagine that the inhabitants and their neighbors continue to recognize the line of stones as marking the boundary of the territory in such a way that it affects their behavior. For example, the inhabitants only cross the boundary under special conditions, and outsiders can only cross into the territory if it is acceptable to the inhabitants. The line of stones now has a function that is not performed in virtue of sheer physics but in virtue of collective intentionality. […] The line of stones performs the same function as a physical barrier but it does not do so in virtue of its physical construction, but because it has been collectively assigned a new status, the status of a boundary marker. (Searle 1995, 39–40) While the example deals with a boundary, the gist of it is that all other institutions too rely on the collective intentionality (or acceptance or recognition) of those who participate in them. There is certainly more to be said about the mechanisms of instituting social facts, but the general principle of the necessity of collective acceptance is largely agreed and built upon in analytical social ontology (see e.g. Searle 1995; Tuomela 2013; for more recent developments see Epstein 2015). Searle’s focus is very much on collective intentionality, but here we should add that the recognition or acceptance of institutions does not need to be conscious. Many social facts and institutions are upheld by practices and behaviours that are habitual and almost never become challenged or conscious – and if they do, it is only at the time of social transformation and change. The upshot of the previous examples of the ways in which institutions and recognition intertwine in contemporary recognition theories yields two commonly shared broad intuitions: (a) recognition is institutionally mediated and (b) institutions need some kind of – perhaps tacit or indirect – recognition to exist. However, if we accept both of these intuitions,

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  237 we might end up with a chicken-or-egg problem, namely, recognition is defined by institutions but institutions are defined by recognition, and there seems to be no self-evident way of saying which comes first or which one is more fundamental. In what follows, I will offer theoretical tools for analyzing this circularity. The aim is to develop a perspective that can avoid the viciousness of this apparent circularity of recognition and institutions.

12.2 Recognizable Institutions To get to the core of the apparent circularity, there are two central themes we must look at. It is necessary to focus on the precise nature and mode of the recognition-relationships between individuals and institutions – as we shall do in the next section – but, similarly, it is important to narrow down precisely which institutions are in focus in the context of recognition. In other words, what is recognized when we recognize an institution or a framework of recognition? Or, in even broader terms, what exactly is a normative order or recognition institution? Here Raimo Tuomela’s characterization of institutions is helpful. According to him, institutions are “public norm-practice systems” (Tuomela 2013, 218) that come in different forms. Tuomela himself has distinguished four different levels of institutions: ( a) institution as a norm-governed social practice; (b) institution conferring a new conceptual (and social) status to some entity (e.g., person, object, or activity); (c) institution conferring not only a new conceptual and social but also a new deontic status and status functions to go with it to the members of the collective in question; (d) institution as an organization involving specific social positions and a task-right system. (Tuomela 2007, 196–197) Tuomela’s characterization develops from the most general institutions (like language) to less general and more limited institutions (like corporations and organizations). Similarly, while all institutions have certain normative structures and rules, the development is from the least structured and the least purpose-directed institutions towards more structured or rigid institutions with more defined rules, roles, and purposes. Included in the common acceptance view was the claim that all institutions require some sort of recognition to exist. All normative frameworks, however thin and informal, need some kind of (possibly tacit) acceptance from their participants. However, where do specific recognition institutions fit in this picture? Arguably, they fall within a narrow spectrum within Tuomela’s characterization. On the one hand, recognition

238  Onni Hirvonen institutions seem to be more specific than language or any loose normgoverned social practice. Recognition theorists seem to be more interested in norm-governed practices that deal with the social statuses of persons and their standing in relation to each other. On the other hand, recognition institutions seem to be more general than organizations or corporations. These most structured institutions impose more rigid hierarchies and positions, while recognition theorists in general seem to be mostly after certain broader social practices of status attribution and normative expectations that govern interpersonal relationships. Thus, what is postulated here is that recognition institutions are, following Tuomela’s characterizations, institutions that fit categories (b) and (c). Recognition institutions are normative frameworks that confer social statuses and ‘deontic powers’ – that is, a standing and possible powers to institute something in the social sphere. If one takes a closer look, for example, at the spheres of ethical life that Honneth outlines in Freedom’s Right, this characterization seems fitting. In that book, Honneth’s aim is to make a normative reconstruction that aims to undercover the ‘normative grammar’ of certain broader social practices that can be called relational institutions or ethical spheres (Honneth 2014, 125–127). He identifies three such institutions – personal relationships (friendship, love, family), market economy (consumption, labour markets), and political public sphere (democracy, rule of law) –, all of which are characterized by specific patterns of mutual recognition (Honneth 2014, 127–128; see also Honneth’s response in Willig 2012, 148). These institutions do not represent a tight structured corporate form, but they still confer statuses, role obligations, and expectations and open new possibilities for social action, freedom, and self-expression. The key difference with the (d)-type of institution is the organizational form. While recognition institutions denote broad culturally shared historical forms of normative expectations and related behaviour, institutions as organizations are more strictly limited and spatially contained systems of norms that are arguably also guided by the broader spheres of ethical life. For example, different corporations might well have their own specific internal structures and even precise ethical codes, but they all function within the broader frame of the market economy. The suggestion is then that we can (and should) make a distinction between what was earlier called ‘recognition institutions’ and other agential institutions that may play a part in recognition-relationships. The former refers to the institutional setting that directs recognition practices and, presumably, consists of the institutionalized practices of recognition. The latter refers to corporate-like collective agencies of the (d)-type that function as interactive partners in recognition, whereas the former ‘recognition institutions’ provide a framework for the recognition practices. It is debatable whether organizations and corporations really are agents capable of recognition (or if they are agents at all), but here the relevant

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  239 point is the conceptual differentiation between collective agents and frameworks or systems of recognition.6 The differentiation opens many interesting philosophical questions of how these two categories relate to each other, which cannot be discussed here. Furthermore, while the original circularity concerned recognition institutions as normative frameworks of recognition, the difference between agential institutions and institutions as normative frameworks remains highly relevant in the next sections where the recognitive attitudes that can be taken in relation to institutions are discussed.

12.3 Recognitive Attitudes towards Institutions Thus far, we have highlighted the potential circularity of recognition and institutions and focused more in detail on the other main element of this circularity – namely, what the institutions of recognition are. In this section, the aim is to focus on the ‘recognition’-side of the matter. In more exact terms, what kind of attitudes and practices are at stake when we talk about the recognition of institutions? It is commonly thought that recognition comes in different modes or forms. If this is the case, in what sense do we recognize institutions? Here a fruitful starting point is the analytical distinctions drawn by Ikäheimo and Laitinen (2007, 34–36). According to their differentiation, recognition is often used in three senses that are closely interrelated. Firstly, recognition can mean identification of anything. This means the literal re-cognizing of something, perceiving and understanding the particularities of an entity. Secondly, recognition can also mean acknowledgement of norms. In this second sense, it functions as an understanding and affirmation of rules and norms. Thirdly, there is the category that is most commonly understood as the core meaning of recognition in the recognition literature – that is, recognition as recognition of persons. This is what the sense of recognition is commonly taken to denote, and it is precisely the theme that most recognition theorists are interested in. For example, this is what Taylor (1994) is after in discussing recognition as a human need, or what Honneth describes in The Struggle for Recognition, or what Ricœur (2005) designates as the Hegelian notion of recognition, distinct from self-understanding or remembering. Recognition of persons can also be divided into different forms. The most well-known three-part division is distinguishing the different attitudes of love, respect, and esteem from each other. This is a separation of the contents of the attitude. Emotional care, love, and friendship are distinguished from the universal recognition of rights and co-authorship of norms, and from the individuating attitudes that direct recognition towards features and achievements. Drawing the borders of separate attitudes is in itself important, but here this distinction is, however, set mostly aside.7

240  Onni Hirvonen A further important distinction for our current purpose is the aforementioned differentiation between vertical and horizontal modes or directions of recognition (see Example 1.2). The general idea is that horizontal recognition describes attitudes, actions, and relationships between entities on the ‘same level’ so to speak. What the same level most commonly refers to is recognition between individual agents as persons. However, one could also include collective agents as partners in horizontal recognition. States might recognize states at the same level, or an individual and a corporation might recognize the rights of each other, and so forth. Vertical recognition, on the other hand, was used to refer to recognition between levels. Institutional recognition is often taken to be precisely of this vertical kind. Institutions grant social positions and rights and so forth ‘from above.’ Individuals, in turn, may or may not recognize the validity of these institutional authorities. By definition, vertical recognition is between institutions and (individual) agents, while horizontal recognition, by definition, seems to be restricted to agential relationships and is most commonly taken to refer to relationships between individual agents. Although there might be some limits to the appropriateness of recognition in relation to group agents (see Hirvonen 2017a), here I want to focus on recognition institutions in the sense that was described earlier: instead of being agents, they are normative frameworks or normative systems. Which of the meanings of ‘recognition’ described in this section, then, are applicable to recognition institutions? First, it is clear that recognition institutions can be identified. It is precisely what Honneth is doing in his attempts to spell out the normative or recognitive core of institutions like family, civil society, and markets. We clearly have the intellectual capabilities to identify and distinguish various recognition institutions, although at times it seems to require actual social research, normative reconstruction, and historical understanding. Second, recognition institutions can be acknowledged in the sense of normative acceptance. This is the constitutive attitude that is required for the institutions to exist in the sense highlighted in the common acceptance model. However, it should be noted that not everyone needs to acknowledge the normative core of an institution for the institution to exist. It is quite possible to have external agents who do not acknowledge the normative core of an institution, as well as people who have been forced, coerced, tricked, or manipulated into behaving according to the normative frame of an institution. In the case of recognition institutions, the acknowledgement can be taken to have two referents. First, acknowledgement might be directed towards the prevailing norm of recognition that is at play at any current institution. That is, we may accept that the normative core of family is based on love, that legal institutions are ultimately based on respect, or that markets value achievement and contributions to the (more or less)

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  241 common good. The second sense of acknowledgement concerns the forms that the recognition institutions take in any particular point of history. That is, while recognition can be considered as a “vital human need” (Taylor 1994, 26) or seen as constituting “‘quasi-transcendental interests’ of the human race” (Honneth 2003a, 174), the practical forms that it takes are more often related to the particular recognition institutions of their time. The general story is that older forms of honour made way for the more particularized institutions where certain rights are given based on shared humanity and rational agency, and social status is decoupled from this recognition and attached to achievements. Further, even if the move to modernity specified and made clearer the distinction between different anthropologically grounded recognition needs, there are crosscultural differences in the institutions of recognition and in the fashion that these needs are articulated. This is seen in the different articulations of, for example, what is counted as the sphere of family in different cultures and legislations. The accounts range from nuclear family to extended families, from patrilinear families to matrilinear families, and so forth. Therefore, when we talk about the acknowledgement of recognition institutions, in this context, it could be taken to refer to the particular formulation of an institution that is based on the anthropologically grounded need – in itself plastic and malleable – that seems to characterize the human life-form. Can recognition institutions be recognized in the Hegelian sense of recognition? Here it is important to remember that the Hegelian sense – the sense around which the contemporary debates are constructed – concerns recognition between self-consciousnesses or between persons. This creates an issue, as not all entities can be constituted as persons through recognition simply because not all entities have the suitable capacities for being in a recognition-relationship. In other words, we could state that recognition in the Hegelian sense has certain responsiveness conditions. That is, not anything and everything can be recognized in this sense of the terms. But who or what can be? The short answer (following Ikäheimo 2007, 233–234 and also Laitinen 2007) is that only those who (at least potentially) fulfil (psychological or capacity-related) conditions of personhood are suitable recipients of Hegelian recognition. This responsive nature of recognition thus poses a challenge to institutional recognition, as it is clear that we have reasons to be hesitant in stating that recognition institutions are persons or self-conscious subjects. Without a strong social-ontological argument for the personification of institutions, it seems then that we should perhaps not talk of recognition of institutions as such, but rather in terms of different object-related attitudes that do not necessarily have the same ‘mutually constitutive and responsive’ element in relation to self-consciousness as Hegelian recognition. In the next section, I attempt to illustrate how this might undermine the category of vertical (Hegelian) recognition altogether.

242  Onni Hirvonen

12.4 Challenging Vertical Recognition Up to this point, it seems that in most of the cases the ‘institution-constituting attitudes’ are not of the same kind as ‘institutionally mediated recognition.’ The former can be characterized as identification and acknowledgement, while the latter refers to interpersonal attitudes that are conducted in an institutional setting.8 However, here vertical recognition marks a special case. The literature dealing with vertical recognition commonly gives it two central features. First, vertical recognition is understood as constituting institutions (Canivez 2011). Second, vertical recognition is often characterized as a form of Hegelian recognition between persons (Ikäheimo 2014, 211) or between self-related entities (Canivez 2011, 879). That is, alongside identification and acknowledgement forms of ‘recognition’ that constitute the acceptance in the common acceptance model, vertical recognition denotes a form of Hegelian interpersonal or intersubjective recognition between individuals and institutions. This, in turn, implies that vertical recognition – as defined earlier – assumes some sort of personification or subjectification of institutions. Collective personhood and collective agency are in no way foreign concepts to contemporary social ontology, and, thus, one relevant question here is if there is a believable way to understand institutions as persons or subjects in a relevant sense. Somewhat unsurprisingly, an overview of the discussion points towards the conclusion that the collective personhood literature rarely considers institutions of kinds (b) and (c) as personifiable.9 As mentioned before, personification has certain suitability conditions, the least of which is agency or potential agency. Collective agency, in turn, is often taken to require a high level of structuration and explicit decision-making mechanisms that are not present in broader social institutions or normative frameworks (see, for example, List and Pettit 2011). These features are commonly attributed to the institutions of the (d) kind, which would include corporations, panels, teams, and so forth – all narrower than broader normative frameworks. The narrower (d)-type institutions are in one sense institutions of recognition. They can have their own recognition rules and standards – i.e. different workplaces have different criteria for what counts as an achievement – but at the same time, they make use of the same broader social norms of recognition. For example, in Honneth’s case, all workplaces are still under the more general principle of achievement, even if the particular instantiations of this principle differ from one corporation to another. This highlights the possibility that in some cases, ‘collective agency’ and ‘normative framework’ can in fact overlap. However, even with the possibility of a ‘co-instantiation’ of a collective agent and a normative framework, the consensus seems to be that broader normative frameworks are not collective agents as such. Here it is safe to

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  243 say that the burden of proof lies with those who claim that the personification of such frameworks is possible. Although, as a concession to the recognition theorists who use the concept of vertical recognition as if it were a type of Hegelian recognition between persons, it should be said that it is clear that almost no one explicitly claims that recognition institutions are persons, but it is merely – and most probably accidentally – implied in the discussions on vertical recognition. Even in the case that there would be a strong argument for the possibility of personification, a further worry presents itself. The worry is that, if recognition institutions are subjects, does this warrant a new kind of vertical recognition-relationship in addition to collective acknowledgement of the institutional norms? In other words, why would there be vertical recognition between personifiable institutions and individual human persons instead of horizontal recognition between individual and collective agents? Using the term ‘vertical’ gives the picture that collective agents somehow exist over and above the individual agents, in a different ‘level’ of social reality. An alternative way of thinking – that rejects vertical recognition as Hegelian recognition – is to say that potential collective agents, as well as individual agents, act on the same horizontal ‘level,’ all guided by broader institutional normative frameworks of recognition. Thus, recognition in the Hegelian sense of the term would be limited to one particular level, while it could be guided and mediated by a broader normative setting that, in turn, requires ongoing recognition practices, acknowledgement, identification, habituation, and so forth to exist.

12.5 In Conclusion: How Vicious Is the Circle? The previous section presented scepticism about the possibility of vertical Hegelian recognition. Indeed, if vertical recognition is meant to denote acceptance of normative frameworks, then it is difficult to see how and why this should be understood as a form of recognition between persons. Norms are formed and upheld through collective acceptance, but that is hardly Hegelian recognition towards the normative framework itself. If vertical recognition were literally taken to be recognition between persons, then there would be a need, first, to prove that recognition institutions are recognizable collective agents in the first place and, second, that recognition of collective agents goes beyond the horizontal and mutual relationships of recognition. If the first claim were to be the case, institutions of recognition ought to include features like accepted decision-making mechanisms of the group and commitment to the results that follow from it. Second, it is equally unclear why we should call potential group recognition ‘vertical recognition,’ as this gives a picture that group agents would somehow exist ‘over and above’ individual agents. Perhaps claims could be made to state why a collective person is not a person in the same sense as individual human beings are and that would warrant different

244  Onni Hirvonen recognition-relationships. Or perhaps what vertical recognition really designates is merely a difference in positions of power in recognitionrelationships. These considerations show that there are speculative opportunities to defend a notion of vertical Hegelian recognition, but the suggestion here is that vertical Hegelian recognition does not provide an answer as to the mode in which institutions of recognition are ‘recognized.’ Instead, the answer would lie in the modes of collective acceptance that would not be recognition in the Hegelian interpersonal sense. Returning to the structure-agency issue between our practical attitudes and their institutional determination, one could still ask if there is any vicious circularity left. In the suggested model, it is not the case that institutionally mediated interpersonal recognition would in a strong sense constitute institutions. Rather, the institution-constituting attitudes would be of a different form, which could still be tied to recognition practices. Namely, in recognizing someone as X, one is also acknowledging or upkeeping the normative framework that makes recognition as X possible. Further, it is also possible to take identifying and acknowledging attitudes towards institutions that enable recognizing someone as X. However, is the circularity of recognition and institutions just shifted to another set of attitudes and behaviours instead of the interpersonal Hegelian recognition? Part of the aim of this chapter has been to stay within the limits of the Hegelian sense of recognition, and thus what is offered here can only offer a waypoint to the direction from which the solution to the potential broader circularity of various attitudes could be found. The circularity of institutions and agents could be considered as akin to circularity of language: language is defined by the usage of language, but the use already requires some linguistic framework to be understandable. In short, if one seeks a definite answer to a chicken-or-egg problem, finding it might be a fool’s hope unless one is prepared to give a narrative of the evolution of interpersonal attitudes and language. Rather, the more interesting task for a critical social theorist of recognition is to explicate the exact constitutive relations and power relations within the constellation of agents and institutions in any particular historical period. This way the malpractices, domination, and power imbalances that are manifest in the practical institutional setting and everyday agency become more visible.

Notes 1 The same problem has also been framed in terms of the individualism-collectivism issue in analytical social ontology (see Pettit 1996, ch. 3 and Pettit and Schweikard 2006, 35–36). 2 The anthropological-institutional nature of Honneth’s recognition theory is summarized well in Anderson’s commentary: (1) Humans have an historically conditioned but anthropologically grounded need for relations of mutual recognition and the associated forms of social freedom. (2) These recognition relations are in turn dependent on something

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  245 like a socio-cultural ecosystem – institutionalized social practices, or what Hegel terms objektiver Geist – owing especially to the fragility of these relations of mutual recognition and the human vulnerability involved. (Anderson 2013, 18) 3 “The institutions of the economy and the State are never just embodiments of purely objective, instrumentally rational considerations, they are framed within ‘political-practical principles,’ which themselves depend upon (distorted) communicative processes. The same can be said of economic and administrative institutions” (Deranty 2009, 97 on Honneth). 4 Here recognition* (with asterisk) denotes ‘institutionally mediated’ recognition in comparison with Ikäheimo’s other category, ‘purely intersubjective’ recognition. The English translation is taken from an early manuscript of Ikäheimo’s Anerkennung book (2014), which was ultimately published in German. For a largely similar formulation in English, see Ikäheimo 2013, 28. 5 In fact, it is possible to give a reading of Ikäheimo’s account in which nothing more than horizontal recognition is at play when institutions are recognized. Institutions are merely imagined and implied in making horizontal acts of recognition. This, however, makes institutions similarly epiphenomenal expressions of ‘actual’ practical relations as in Honneth’s account, which was supposed to be supplemented by the very same idea of vertical recognition. Also, while this reading applies to the acceptance of institutions, it is unclear how ‘downwards’ recognition by the institutions (as, for example, when a state ‘recognizes’ its citizens) could be conceptualized as a side-product of horizontal recognition. 6 At times, the difference between these two might become blurred. For example, nation states are often considered as collective agents in themselves, but at the same time, it is easy to consider them as consisting of broader normative or cultural frameworks that direct, incentivize, or prohibit certain social practices. Similarly, work environments and corporations can be thought of as institutions that also prescribe certain frameworks of esteem. 7 See Hirvonen 2017a for an argument that discusses the issues of how separate forms of recognition can complicate ‘collective recognition.’ 8 It is debatable whether all the interpersonal attitudes need this mediation. Ikäheimo (2013, 17) makes the distinction between purely intersubjective recognition and institutionally mediated recognition. Honneth (2003a, 138), on the other hand, states that all recognition is institutionally mediated. 9 For an overview of the contemporary arguments for collective personhood, see Hirvonen 2017b. Most of the accounts are very exact on the conditions of agency (and personhood) and would not allow the Hegelian Spirit to be a subject.

References Anderson, Joel. 2013. The Fragile Accomplishment of Social Freedom. Krisis: Journal for Contemporary Philosophy 1: 18–22. Canivez, Patrice. 2011. Pathologies of Recognition. Philosophy and Social Criticism 37(8): 851–887. Deranty, Jean-Philippe. 2009. Beyond Communication: A Critical Study of Axel Honneth’s Social Philosophy. Boston, MA: Brill. Epstein, Brian. 2015. The Ant Trap: Rebuilding the Foundations of the Social Sciences. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

246  Onni Hirvonen Hirvonen, Onni. 2017a. Groups as Persons? A Suggestion for a Hegelian Turn. Journal of Social Ontology 3(2): 143–165. Hirvonen, Onni. 2017b. Group Personhood in the Contemporary Social Ontology. In Mind, Collective Agency, Norms: Essays on Social Ontology, eds. Pietro Salis and Guido Seddone, 80–83. Düren and Maastricht: Shaker Verlag. Honneth, Axel 1995. The Struggle for Recognition. The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Trans. J. Anderson. Cambridge: The MIT Press. Honneth, Axel. 2003a. Redistribution as Recognition: A Response to Nancy Fraser. In Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange, eds. Nancy Fraser and Axel Honneth, trans. J. Gold, J. Ingram and C. Wilke, 110–197. London: Verso. Honneth, Axel. 2003b. The Point of Recognition A Rejoinder to the Rejoinder. In Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange, eds. Nancy Fraser and Axel Honneth, trans. J. Golb, J. Ingram and C. Wilke, 237–267. London: Verso. Honneth, Axel. 2011. Rejoinder. In Axel Honneth: Critical Essays, With a Reply by Axel Honneth, ed. Danielle Petherbridge. Social and Critical Theory Series, vol. 12, 391–421. Leiden/Boston, MA: Brill. Honneth, Axel. 2012. The I in We: Recognition as a Driving Force of Group Formation. In The I in We: Studies in the Theory of Recognition, ed. Axel Honneth, 201–216. Cambridge: Polity. Honneth, Axel. 2014. Freedom’s Right: The Social Foundations of Democratic Life. Cambridge: Polity. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2007. Recognizing Persons. Journal of Consciousness Studies 14(5–6): 224–247. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2013. Hegel’s Concept of Recognition – What Is It? In Recognition – German Idealism as an Ongoing Challenge, ed. Christian Krijnen, 11–38. Leiden: Brill. Ikäheimo, Heikki. 2014. Anerkennung. Berlin: De Gruyter. Ikäheimo, Heikki and Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Analyzing Recognition: Identification, Acknowledgement, and Recognitive Attitudes towards Persons. In Recognition and Power: Axel Honneth and the Tradition of Critical Social Theory, eds. Bert Van Den Brink and David Owen, 33–56. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Laitinen, Arto. 2007. Sorting Out Aspects of Personhood: Capacities, Normativity and Recognition. Journal of Consciousness Studies 14(5–6): 248–270. List, Christian and Pettit, Philip. 2011. Group Agency. The Possibility, Design and Status of Corporate Agents. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McBride, Cillian. 2013. Recognition. Cambridge: Polity. Petherbridge, Danielle. 2013. The Critical Theory of Axel Honneth. Lanham, MD/New York: Lexington Books. Pettit, Philip. 1996. The Common Mind: An Essay on Psychology, Society and Politics. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pettit, Philip and Schweikard, David. 2006. Joint Actions and Group Agents. Philosophy of the Social Sciences 36(1): 18–39. Ricœur, Paul. 2005. The Course of Recognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Searle, John. 1995. The Construction of Social Reality. New York: The Free Press.

Institutionally Mediated Recognition  247 Taylor, Charles. 1994. The Politics of Recognition. In Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of Recognition, ed. Amy Gutmann, 25–74. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Tuomela, Raimo. 2007. The Philosophy of Sociality. The Shared Point of View. New York: Oxford University Press. Tuomela, Raimo. 2013. Social Ontology: Collective Intentionality and Group Agents. New York: Oxford University Press. Willig, Rasmus. 2012. Grammatology of Modern Recognition Orders: An Interview with Axel Honneth. Distinktion: Scandinavian Journal of Social Theory 13(1): 145–149.

Part III

Historical and Religious Practices of Recognition

13 Recognition and Fides Old and New Paths of Conceptual History Risto Saarinen

In his important book Anerkennung: Eine europäische Ideengeschichte (2018), Axel Honneth investigates the emergence of the idea of mutual recognition in France, Britain, and Germany. He considers that the French concept of amour propre and the English notion of sympathy contain similar ideas of mutual respect and heteronomous identity as the German term Anerkennung. While the three concepts also manifest significant differences, they all together are witness to the emergence of mutual recognition as the basis of bourgeois society in the Enlightenment and, in particular, in the post-Kantian philosophical discourse on human dignity and respect for one another (Honneth 2018, 10–23, 182–200). In the following, Honneth’s view is questioned insofar as the dating of the very concept of recognition/Anerkennung is concerned. I will claim that the Latin terms agnitio and recognitio already contain the semantic features needed for the emergence of the German concept, which is formative in modern theories of recognition. Methodologically, I follow the narrow path of conceptual history (Begriffsgeschichte), which does not start with broader intellectual history or the history of ideas (Ideengeschichte). Intellectual history is nevertheless vitally important for the proper understanding of the results achieved through conceptual history. Honneth’s book of 2018 can therefore complement my own study (Saarinen 2016) and encourage us to think more about the sociocultural settings behind the concepts. I will start by briefly reporting the main results of some new historical studies. Then I will outline the main tenets of the so-called internalist faith community, an ideal type and a sociocultural setting which can be assumed in various narratives depicting religious recognition. Third, I will present some prominent premodern texts. Fourth, I will discuss modern theological texts with a view to considering their relevance for Honneth’s new results. Fifth, I will draw my conclusions.

13.1 The Long History of Performative Recognition Regarding the history of ideas, I agree with much of Honneth’s work. Amour propre and sympathy contain important similarities with the DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-17

252  Risto Saarinen German thinking of Fichte and Hegel. Most importantly, I agree with the claim that the new type of bourgeois society in France, Britain, and Germany in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries enables the appreciation of the equality of all human beings (see Honneth 2018, 21–22, 198–202). The modern virtues of respect, toleration, and mutual recognition stem from this new sociocultural constellation. I will argue that a parallel transformation towards equality and mutual respect occurs in theological thinking in the first decades of the nineteenth century. However, the conceptual field available in recognition terminology is much older than the modern sociocultural situation in which this terminology is fruitfully employed to establish a political philosophy of equality and respect. Referring to the historical results of Paul Ricœur, Honneth considers that the German term Anerkennung – that only starts to appear in the last decades of the eighteenth century – is very different from the French reconnaissance and the English recognition, which carry strong connotations to the phenomenon of seeing or identifying something again (Wiedererkennung). Honneth also makes a distinction between recognizing one’s public reputation and the deeper epistemic achievement (Leistung unserer Erkenntnis) which changes objective matters (Honneth 2018, 10–11; Ricœur 2005). For Honneth, a truly philosophical concept of recognition is needed in order to express the latter. In Recognition and Religion (Saarinen 2016, 42–48, 196–205), I remain sceptical of Ricoeur’s historical claims, showing that not only recollection and identification but also the performative meanings are involved in the Latin words agnitio and recognitio. As the verb agnosco was employed in Roman law to express performatives, for instance, adoption of the approval of a testament, the substantive agnitio in particular is employed in the sense of status change and epistemic achievement in the Latin tradition. As this tradition found a rich use in the Latin Bible, as well as in later theological reflections, it can be demonstrated that ideas of mutual recognition and performative status change are already available in the Latin vocabulary of agnitio and recognitio. Historical research has neglected the term agnitio, which lies beyond the English acknowledge and, at least to an extent, the German Anerkennung. German dictionaries are here instructive. Grimm (1854ff) gives agnitio as the meaning of Anerkenntnis. Trübner (1939–1957) documents the legal origins of German Anerkennung, strengthening the link to the Roman law. Already Adelung (1970 [1774]) mentions the legal sense of attaching a normative status to the issue at stake. In addition, the French verb reconnaitre was already used as a ­translation for both agnosco and recognosco in Calvin’s French writings in the sixteenth century. In this simple sense, the English, German, and French vocabularies of recognition all belong to the same post-Latin conceptual tradition (Saarinen 2016, 98–111). As Ricœur neglects the Latin

Recognition and Fides  253 tradition and does not consider the early French occurrences of the term reconnaissance, his historical categorizations remain problematic. The conceptual observations gain philosophical depth when we pay more detailed attention to the emergence of the individual subject through the recognition given by others. I have argued that such heteronomy is present everywhere in the Christian tradition, as this tradition assumes that religion brings forth a novus homo, a new person who is no longer a slave but free (Saarinen 2016). Within the thought world of Christianity, this emergence of new personhood and basic freedom needs an encounter with God and a life in faith. Both the encounter with God and the life in faith community are heteronomous events in which new statuses are mutually and heteronomously given and received. In this sociocultural give and take, the vocabulary of agnitio and recognitio does not merely refer to memory or external reputation, but it very often expresses the epistemic achievements enabled by this very mutuality. At the same time, some features of modern political recognition, especially that of equality, are missing or weakly developed in the tradition of religious recognition (Saarinen 2016, 241–252). Independently of my work, new studies in literature and aesthetics have come to similar conclusions. In her study of Greek poetic recognition, Silvia Montiglio (2013, 9–14) argues that the Greeks do not deal merely with moral awareness but also with personal identity. Poetic recognition “invites questions about what constitutes identity and what recognition does” (Montiglio 2013). Montiglio argues that, for instance, the lovers’ mutual recognition in ancient poetic texts brings about changes due to the love present in this act. Remarkably, Montiglio (2013, 215) also investigates an early Christian novel, the pseudo-Clementine Recognitiones, coming to the conclusion that its numerous recognition scenes do not merely return the protagonists back to an earlier state but elevate them to a new reality which is significantly different from their earlier identity. Piero Boitani (2014, 29) is among the very few scholars who realize that the Latin vocabulary of agnosco, agnitio has particular value for the Western history of recognition. He remarks that Italian may be the only current language which has preserved this word in addition to the cognate word recognition. Boitani (2014, 211–263) investigates a great variety of religious and non-religious texts, arguing that the literary scenes of recognition often display a quality which takes them beyond mere reidentification. A model text of this kind is John 20:11–18, in which Mary Magdalene realizes that the figure behind her is Jesus. When realizing this, she also can see that Jesus is the Lord. In this manner, the recognition event is an epistemic achievement that brings about a status change for both parties. Jesus becomes Lord, and Mary becomes a believer. Boitani’s book title Riconoscere è un dio illustrates his observation that in literary texts, the presence of some divine element accompanies those recognition scenes in which not merely identification but also transformation takes place. In Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, recognitions that

254  Risto Saarinen change both the recognizer and the recognizee are underlined with a reference to the gods. Boitani interprets Shakespeare’s Pericles, act V, scene 3, in which Pericles first hears and then sees his allegedly dead wife Thaisa. Pericles exclaims, This, this! No more, you gods; your present kindness/ Makes my past miseries sports; you shall do well/ That on the touching of her lips I may/ Melt, and no more be seen. O come, be buried/ A second time within these arms. Going beyond Aristotelian limits, Shakespeare here points out how, in the event of recognition, Pericles melts into a non-person, and Thaisa is buried a second time. Both parties are thus deeply transformed in the recognition scene, which also evokes divine agents. For Boitani, such scenes allude to the biblical recognition between Jesus and Mary Magdalene (Boitani 2014, 306–308). For the purposes of the present chapter, Montiglio and Boitani illustrate the long history of transformative recognition. Like its religious counterpart, poetic recognition does not merely depict an event of Wieder-erkennen, re-identifying with the help of memory. In addition to this and most fundamentally, religious and poetic recognition transform the identity of both subject and object, thus bringing forth a complex epistemic achievement.

13.2 Externalist and Internalist Faith Communities The works mentioned in the previous section focus on the history of the relevant concepts and do not discuss the practices and settings in which they are employed. Given the long history of Christianity, these practices vary considerably. While it often seems that the concepts live longer than the practices supporting them, there are also cases in which new practices influence the old concepts, shaping them in new ways. In the following, I will address the issue of sociocultural setting by first drafting two very robust ideal types of religious practices and then locating my historical material within the latter type. I am not claiming that these practices existed in the same sense as the bourgeois society in the period examined by Honneth (2018). Particularly, the second type exists rather in the sense of a thought world, an ideal or utopian life of faith community imagined by the author of the examined work. I admit immediately that the concept of a thought world is a poor substitute for real social history. This concept only aims to shed some light on the elusive character of religious texts, manifesting the life of the mind rather than the life of the body. Let us call the first type an externalist view of religion. This type considers the practices in terms of institutions, such as churches, monasteries,

Recognition and Fides  255 individual congregations, and concrete movements around leading figures. Religious conviction is in this type presented as fides quae, a list of contents of sorts that are believed by the group members. In the externalist type, recognition either plays no role at all or it refers to the public reputation of persons and the contents that are the object of belief. Such reputations may contribute to the exclusion and inclusion of members, but they do not constitute the institution or the member as such. From the perspective of modern recognition theory, externally understood religions can be treated as problems or obstacles of societal recognition, but they hardly contribute anything positive to the broader understanding of society. Let us call the second type an internalist view of religion. This type considers religious practices as resulting from the underlying trust which the participants have towards one another. Existing institutions are predominantly communities of trust, and they follow the complex societal dynamics of mutual trust. Religious conviction is in this type presented as fides qua, trust and confidence among the members. This trust is also directed to the divine being, and the members may think that the divine beings are in turn faithful to the mortals in this mutual bond or covenant. In the internalist type, the acts of mutually recognizing one another as persons and as neighbours are crucially important. Becoming recognized by the group not only secures your inclusion but also defines you as a person. You are one of the faithful, and your features depend on the trust and neighbourly love shown to you in and by the group. Your relationship to the divine being is not merely a list of beliefs but also an orientation of your heart and entire personality. From the perspective of modern recognition theory, such communities of trust emerge with the help of epistemic achievements, and the identity of such communities is dependent on the trust available in the acts of recognition. All this takes place in the thought world of religious persons. Historical Christianity has obviously both externalist and internalist features. Among biblical scholars, Teresa Morgan (2015, 216) provides sound historical evidence for the view that the New Testament concept of pistis/fides is eminently internalist. She points out that the earliest communities of Pauline letters were called simply “the trusting” or “the faithful” (pisteuontes, 1. Thess. 1:7) without much regard to the content of this trust. Morgan (2015, 258–261, 509–514) investigates the semantic field of pistis and fides in the Greco-Roman world, coming to the conclusion that the Latin and Greek vocabularies are largely synonymous. She further claims that the New Testament vocabulary of faith is closer to the secular societal meanings of trust than has often been assumed. In her view, the Greco-Roman concept is highly relational, depicting a personal or communal bond that holds together its participants. This relationality means, among other things, that the trust of the subject and the trustworthiness of the object are not two separate issues.

256  Risto Saarinen Rather, they emerge together in the social world of the participants. Morgan (2015, 31) considers the biblical pistis to be an action nominal – that is, a linguistic device which encompasses both active and passive meanings of its cognate verb. Since pistis/fides expresses a communal relationship of two or more parties, alluding to both active and passive meanings of trusting, the act and its content are indistinguishable within this relationship. In sum, Morgan does not postulate any deep gap between the secular and religious pistis. Morgan’s historical results bring her into fairly close contact with various issues of trust in contemporary social sciences. Current theories also emphasize the social bond and the added value that an atmosphere of trust can create. Our trusting one another results from a larger community in which not only our own expectations and judgements but also the inherent spirit or the social capital of the community is important. The community is ready to trust newcomers, and newcomers trust that their needs and expectations are met in the community at large (Morgan 2015, 15–23). If the biblical ideal type of Christian faith is close to an internalist view of religion, one could interpret externalist features as alienation from the original Pauline view. In addition, a return to the view of trusting community could be interpreted as emancipatory in the thought world of Christianity. I am inclined to hold that the authors who treat agnitio and recognitio as person-transforming and even person-constituting events display a certain affinity to the internalist view of fides as societal trust. Even if one does not agree with Morgan, there is a widespread consensus among biblical scholars that the biblical concept of pistis/fides means primarily trust (Morgan 2015, 6). I have here outlined the internalist view of faith community in order to create a premodern sociocultural counterpart to the bourgeois society assumed in modern recognition discourses. The New Testament faith community remains utopian and idealistic, depicting a thought world rather than an actual world. In keeping with this idealism, the texts discussed next focus on the assumed thought world rather than an existing socioculture. Thus, an internalist view of faith investigates, for instance, conversion experiences and the event of recognizing one’s own true self. While such experiences and events typically require an inner struggle, they are not very interested in the external issues of societal improvement and equality. Here we can see the limits of conceptual history. While the premodern roots of the concepts can be demonstrated, one cannot claim that they contain the same societal intention as their modern counterparts. Describing their sociocultural environment in terms of internalist faith community remains a thought world. At the same time, this alternative was available to premodern Christians as the thought world of biblical and theological texts.

Recognition and Fides  257

13.3 Premodern Religious Recognition After Aristotle’s Poetics, the pseudo-Clementine Recognitiones deserves to be called the key text of religious recognition in Christianity. The Latin translation of this originally Greek work was known through the medieval and early modern period. As Montiglio and the original writer/s have shown, the novel employs the Aristotelian concept of anagnorisis, recognizing or rediscovering, transforming Aristotle’s term into a vertical religious encounter (cf. Saarinen 2016, 48–54). The Pauline phrase agnitio veritatis, “recognition” or “knowledge of the truth” (1. Tim. 2:4, Tit. 1:1 Vulgate) is a technical expression which connects the Aristotelian anagnorisis with the legal performatives of the Roman law. In Recognitiones, only the so-called True Prophet (Jesus Christ) can impart the agnitio veritatis, a sort of conversion experience which illuminates the mind and prompts the struggle against harmful desires: [O]ur mind is subject to errors. […] But the mind has it in its own nature to oppose and fight against these, when the knowledge of truth shines upon it, by which knowledge is imparted fear of the judgement to come, which is a fit governor of the mind, and which can recall it from the precipices of lust. (Rec 9, 31:2) Such recognition entails a strong personal involvement for the convert: [H]e be exercised in the learning of the truth {agnitione veritatis], and in works of mercy, that he may bring forth fruits worthy of repentance; and that he do not suppose that the proof of conversion is shown by length of time, but by strength of devotion and purpose. […] For He approves if any one, on hearing the preaching of the truth [agnita veritatis praedicatione], does not delay, and if I may say so, in the same moment, abhorring the past, begins to desire things to come, and burns with love of the heavenly kingdom. (Rec 10, 44:2–3) We see how the event of recognition does not merely entail a re-identification of some morality. Recognizing the truth means complete conversion, which transforms one’s desires and the life of the mind, turning one away from the past. As Montaglio points out, such religious recognition goes beyond Aristotelian bounds. At the same time, the term agnitio keeps some of its Roman legal background, in which agnitio filii means the legal recognition of one’s heir. For pseudo-Clemens, the recognition of the truth implies a struggle in which old family ties are rejected:

258  Risto Saarinen There is therefore a certain fight, which is to be fought by us in this life; for the word of truth and knowledge necessarily separates men from error and ignorance. […] Such is the effect produced by the knowledge of the truth. For it is necessary that, for the sake of salvation, the son, for example, who has received the word of truth, be separated from his unbelieving parents. (Rec 6, 4:2–3) Such recognition of truth is also a recognition of God. When God is recognized, the believer also receives a new position in the human community: You see, then how important is the recognition of God ([agnitio Dei]), and the observance of the divine religion, which not only protects those who believe from the assaults of the demon, but also gives them command over those who rule over others. (Rec 4, 17:1–2) Within the complex plot of Recognitiones, the protagonists experience religious conversion (vertical recognition) and find again their lost relatives (horizontal recognition). In both cases, the recognition event transforms its subject and object, being thus a sort of epistemic achievement. After this work, the vocabulary of agnitio Dei and agnitio veritatis continues to be effective in Latin Christianity. While recognitio and agnitio are used synonymously already in antiquity, it seems that the former term becomes prominent only in medieval Christianity (Saarinen 2016, 69, 77–78). Thomas Aquinas employs both words, giving special importance to recognitio. Thomas employs John 20:16 to illustrate a transformative event of mutual recognition. When Christ calls Mary Magdalene by name, he invites her to “recognize him who recognizes you” (recognosce eum a quo recognosceris) (Thomas, Super Ev. Joh. 20(3), quoting Pope Gregory the Great, In Evangelia, p. 1192). As Boitani (2014, 211–263) argues, this event does not merely depict an identification. The epistemic achievement of Mary is transformative, having both vertical and horizontal consequences. Thomas employs the terms “vocation” and “conversion” to describe Mary’s transformation. Thomas takes over medieval feudal terminology in which the servant acknowledges a benefit (beneficium recognoscere) from the Lord. While this terminology is also related to honour and public reputation, Thomas sometimes adds more personal nuances to it. Thus he asks “whether it belongs to observance to pay worship and honor to those who are in positions of dignity” (Summa theologiae II/2 q102 a2). His basic answer proceeds as follows:

Recognition and Fides  259 [A] person in position of dignity is an object of twofold consideration: first, in so far as he obtains excellence of position, together with a certain power over subjects: secondly, as regards the exercise of his government. In respect of his excellence there is due to him honour (honor), which is the recognition (recognitio) of some kind of excellence; and in respect of the exercise of his government, there is due to him worship (cultus), consisting in rendering him service, by obeying his commands, and by repaying him, according to one’s facility, for the benefits (beneficia) we received from him. (Summa theol. II/2 q102 a2 resp.) Here recognition is related to honour in a feudal fashion. The realm of cultus resembles Axel Honneth’s concept of esteem that is related to personal achievements (cf. Thompson 2006, 74–77). However, even the concept of honour is somewhat complex. Thomas makes a distinction between two kinds of debts of honour: One is a legal debt, to pay which man is compelled by law; and thus man owes honour and worship to those persons in positions of dignity who are placed over him. The other is moral debt, which is due by reason of a certain honesty: it is in this way that we owe worship and honour to persons in positions of dignity even though we be not their subjects. (Summa theol. II/2 q102 a2 ad2) The quote reveals that Aquinas is not merely thinking in terms of public reputation. He can consider situations of relative equality (“we be not their subjects”). In such situations, recognition and cultus are due to persons in leadership positions, given that rational moral considerations support such behaviour. In both quotes, other persons deserve a respect which is not merely based on their position. An adequate cultus is concerned with their virtuous performance and our own capability to its honest and rational estimation. This being said, one should not modernize Aquinas too much. When he deals with “persons in positions of dignity,” he is approaching a somewhat externalist view of community. While internalist considerations also play a role, Thomas’s feudal society is constituted by relationships of public honour. In premodern religious texts, narratives of love relationships employ recognition language that is thoroughly internalist and strongly performative. These narratives offer the most striking predecessors to Hegel’s philosophy of recognition, as they explicitly speak about the constitution of identity through love. Bernard of Clairvaux’s Sermons on the Song of Songs is maybe the most influential work of this kind. I will restrict my discussion to a couple of later examples.

260  Risto Saarinen Marsilio Ficino’s De amore employs Bernard, Thomas, and many other Latin sources. Ficino’s most original contribution may concern his refinement of the reflexive form se recognoscere, ‘to recognize oneself.’ Paul Ricœur has paid attention to this form in Augustine. Ricœur rightly considers that the Augustinians understand the reflexive form in terms of memory or anamnesis: I recognize myself in the continuum of time, employing my memory as the connective instrument (Ficino 2002; Ricœur 2005, 69–149). What Ricœur fails to see is that at least since Ficino there exists another way to understand this phrase – namely, that we can recognize ourselves through the other by means of love. With some rhetorical exaggeration, Ficino teaches that a lover must die in himself and revive in the other. After these events, he can also revive in himself: In reciprocal love there is only one death, a double resurrection. For he who loves dies in himself once, when he neglects himself. He revives immediately in the beloved when the beloved receives him in loving thought. He revives again when he finally recognizes himself in the beloved [in amato se recognoscit], and does not doubt that he is loved. O happy death which two lives follow! (Ficino 2002, II, 8) In Ficino’s Platonism, the lovers resemble one another but do not recognize their own inner selves autonomously. When the lover obtains the image of his beloved in his soul, the beloved also starts to love in an act of self-recognition: There is also the fact that the lover engraves the figure of the beloved in his own soul. And so the soul of the lover becomes a mirror in which the image of the beloved is reflected. For that reason, when the beloved recognizes himself in the lover, he is forced to love him. (Ficino 2002, II, 8) Ficino also considers that both lovers imitate a heavenly archetype in imperfect fashion. When the image of the beloved enters one’s own soul, the lover can recognize this image as something which is its own (tanquam suum aliquid recognoscovit, Ficino 2002, VI, 6). In this manner, love is in some sense self-love and self-recognition. However, this selfrecognition can only be achieved through an act of loving another person. While this Platonic view may also be indebted to Augustine, it is fundamentally different from Augustine’s doctrine of memory as the vehicle of self-recognition. For Ficino, self-recognition is an act which must proceed through loving the other human person. The beloved other is the condition of my own self-recognition.

Recognition and Fides  261 Jean Calvin applies the Platonic view of self-recognition to the relationship between God and humans. For Calvin, the initial self-knowledge of humans only leads them to a sense of their own depravity. The knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves are interconnected: only when we acknowledge or recognize the goodness of God, we can start to recognize ourselves in positive terms (Calvin 2006, 1, 2). This means, however, that “we are not our own … we are God’s” (Calvin 2006, 3, 7, 1). The recognition of God (recognitio Dei) is first required; only after that humans can recognize themselves. Self-recognition is a deeply heteronomous event. A sanctified life means that holy people understand themselves “without comparison with others, while they recognize themselves before God” (dum se coram Deo recognoscunt) (Calvin 2006, 3, 4, 18). While Ficino’s life-affirming philosophy of love differs greatly from Calvin’s theocentric Puritanism, they both employ a view of heteronomous self-recognition. Most importantly, this view teaches a deep transformation or epistemic achievement: in order to become what you are meant to be, you must recognize yourself through the other. This view of a relational personhood which emerges through a complex dialectic resembles the young Hegel’s Realphilosophie lectures in Jena. Hegel can also employ marriage as one instance of recognition, and he has probably employed Ficino in developing this dialectic (Lemanski 2019; Schmidt 1997). Self-recognition can already take place in this heteronomous manner in the premodern Christian tradition.

13.4 Modern Religious Recognition Axel Honneth’s discussion of the relationship between Kant, Fichte, and Hegel is especially helpful for the understanding of the modern concept of recognition. While Ricoeur’s discussion of Kant remains unconnected with the later tradition, Honneth points out how the problem of moral motivation connects, especially, Fichte with Kant. According to Honneth, Fichte aims to improve Kant’s concept of respect (Achtung) through explaining the origins of moral motivation in detail (Honneth 2018, 144, 154–160). What is it exactly that prompts us to respect other human beings? Fichte considers, according to Honneth, that it is the Aufforderung, the morally relevant “summons” of other people, which we can only hear and understand when we restrict our own self-love with a view to other people. This is broadly similar to what Kant means by respect. Fichte concludes that the restriction of self-love and thus the enforcement of Aufforderung can only take place in an interpersonal encounter in which the person regards others, as well as himself, as free beings who are capable of such restriction (Honneth 2018, 157–160). Fichte teaches that both sides must recognize (anerkennen) one another, and both must also treat one another as free beings. Only in

262  Risto Saarinen this reciprocal relationship is it possible to respect other persons and recognize them as having equal freedom. The Aufforderung which belongs to human self-consciousness thus assumes and creates an interpersonal openness through which it can be heard and put into practice. In other words, the mature self-consciousness can only emerge through self-restriction and mutual recognition of others. Instead of considering respect in terms of an individual moral sentiment, Fichte teaches that interpersonal recognition is needed in order to achieve proper respect of others and mature self-consciousness (Honneth 2018, 160–163). In some sense, Fichte is loosely connected with the heteronomous tradition of religious thinkers like Ficino and Calvin. They all teach that a mature self-consciousness is only possible when we first pay attention to an interpersonal encounter which involves the recognition of others. Fichte’s deduction of self-consciousness is also ‘internalist’ in the sense that it does not operate with empirical data but is concerned with the ideal conceptual conditions of the thought world. I do not aim, however, to connect Fichte more closely with religious traditions. Instead, I introduce a theological friend and contemporary of Fichte who struggles with similar post-Kantian problems. Johann Joachim Spalding was the main representative of neology, a movement applying the new ideas of the Enlightenment to theology in Germany. Instead of confessional theology, Spalding emphasizes the emotions and the inner life of individual Christians, representing thus a markedly ‘internalist’ view of religious life. In his best-selling popular work, Religion: Eine Angelegenheit des Menschen (1st ed. 1797), Spalding employs the concept of Anerkennung programmatically (Beutel 2014; Saarinen 2015). Like Fichte, Spalding is occupied with the new challenges posed to theology and philosophy by Immanuel Kant. While Spalding has close contact with Fichte and uses some of his terminology, his own answers to Kantian challenges are different from those of Fichte. Already in his shorter paper of 1794, Von dem Wesentlichen der Religion und von dem Unterscheidenden des Christenthums, Spalding considers that “the distinctive significance of Christianity is found in the practical recognition of Jesus of Nazareth” (Spalding 2006 [1794], 402). In the next edition in 1797, this idea is explained in detail. In both publications, Spalding turns away from doctrinal confessions, claiming that the act of recognition is an adequate way for an individual to understand the value of religion. While Fichte does not want to solve the problem of moral motivation with reference to emotions, Spalding favours this solution in a straightforward manner. He considers that all people have two instincts (Trieb), or basic emotions (Grundgefühl), which motivate their behaviour and have deep religious relevance. The first one is the instinct for happiness, the second one the emotion of morality through which “the great law of

Recognition and Fides  263 justice” is perceived. This view is traditional in Western philosophy, coming from Anselm of Canterbury through scholasticism (affectio commodi, affectio iustitiae) (Kent 1995; Spalding 2001 [1797], 15–17, 31). Spalding (2001, 25) seeks to show the relevance of religion for all human beings. Instead of doctrinal revelation, one needs to see how religion is relevant (angelegen) to us here and now. He considers that the harmonious co-existence of personal happiness and perception of justice can only be achieved when we recognize the existence of the Creator: The working out of harmony [between goodness and happiness] is only possible through the recognition (Anerkennung) of a being that has intentionally equipped the soul with both basic emotions, so that neither of them is there in vain. (Spalding 2001, 32) Especially the perception of moral order leads to this insight: When we recognize [anerkennen] an intentional origin of all things, including our moral nature, we also need to concede that he who has promulgated these laws and wanted us to have a character in accordance with them … contains the entire virtue in himself. (Spalding 2001, 27) Since religion is the life-form through which we understand the roots of our both basic emotions, the recognition of this life-form is a foundation for our well-being and morality: To this discussion belongs, I think, the case of religion, as recognition [Anerkennung] of the most perfect world-ruler [Weltregierer] in his relationship to us. This concept inevitably and in this general form is proper for naming religion. We will stick to this concept, which is in itself capable of being thought: in addition, it provides the foundation for all other extensions and conclusions derived from this knowledge [Erkenntniss]. (Spalding 2001, 24, italics in original) Spalding’s concept of recognition contains both premodern and modern elements. In a premodern fashion, he considers recognition to be an upward act of the servant. The modern component of his concept states that this recognition is not a doctrinal confession but an act that concerns the relationship of another person to us and is thus capable of being thought. This is a much weaker intersubjectivity than Fichte’s mutual recognition, but in some sense, Spalding also moves towards a model of recognition in which both the subject and the object of recognition must comply with Kantian conditions of possibility. While doctrinal

264  Risto Saarinen confessions may remain meaningless to enlightened people, Spalding argues that the personal recognition of the world-ruler is relevant for all people since it is needed to explain the roots of our moral motivation. Spalding needs to be credited for the introduction of the term Anerkennung into German theology. His view is however less Hegelian than the premodern conceptions of Ficino and Calvin. Spalding considers the individual in fairly static and autonomous terms, whereas Ficino and Calvin teach that the event of recognition transforms the personal identity in a rather dramatic and heteronomous fashion. A much stronger heteronomy is introduced to German theology by Friedrich Schleiermacher. In his Glaubenslehre, the cornerstone of modern Protestant dogmatics, the term recognition (Anerkennung) is used sporadically but often in decisive formulations. The famous programmatic sentence of Glaubenslehre, in which the idea of absolute dependence is introduced, employs this term: All so-called proofs of God’s existence are replaced in dogmatics with the recognition that this feeling of absolute dependence, in which our self-consciousness represents the finitude of being in general, is not something accidental or individually different but a general element of life. (Schleiermacher 2003, §33, 205) Like Spalding, Schleiermacher introduces a basic emotion which constitutes human life in general. However, this feeling of absolute dependence underlines the heteronomy in which human life always takes place. When this is ‘recognized,’ we no longer need to seek quasi-objective proofs of God’s existence. The most important use of anerkennen takes place in Schleiermacher’s statement regarding justification by faith, the central doctrine of Protestant theology: That God justifies the person who converts entails that God forgives his sins and recognizes him as a child of God. This change of a person’s relationship to God occurs only when he has a true faith in the Redeemer. (Schleiermacher 2003, §109, 191) While premodern theology speaks of recognition primarily in terms of agnitio veritatis, the upward recognition of the servant, Schleiermacher here returns to the downward recognition procedure of Roman adoption law. It is the Lord who recognizes his servants as children. On the one hand, this is still a hierarchical way of speaking. On the other hand, when servants are recognized as children, the feature of equality is taken much more seriously than in the premodern tradition.

Recognition and Fides  265 In the context of this statement Schleiermacher (2003, §109, 193–200) discusses Roman adoption law extensively, outlining the Protestant view of justification by faith with its help. He thus connects the German term Anerkennung with its old Latin equivalent, agnitio. More importantly, he emphasizes the transformative power of the act of recognition, showing how the heteronomy of humans also means that their being is reconstituted by the epistemic achievement of recognition. Instead of Spalding’s static view of the individual, Schleiermacher advocates a radically relational view. What may be missing, however, is the strong mutuality available in Fichte and Hegel. In any case, it is remarkable that Schleiermacher highlights the downward recognition. While one can find instances of downward recognition in the premodern tradition (e.g. Jesus’ recognition of Mary in Aquinas noted earlier), Schleiermacher uses it in a programmatic fashion. After Spalding and Schleiermacher, the concept of recognition is regularly employed in German Protestant theology. In the so-called dialectical theology of the twentieth century, the concept is evoked particularly strongly. Rudolf Bultmann’s elaborations of central biblical concepts in the Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament are influential witnesses of this trend. His entries on knowing (ginosko, etc.) and faith (pistis, etc.) show how the internalist thought world of faith can be interpreted in terms of recognition. As Bultmann is influenced by Martin Heidegger, it is sometimes difficult to say whether his considerations give voice to the New Testament or to modern existential philosophy (see Landmesser (ed.) 2017, 79–87). Bultmann’s existential edge nevertheless manages to bring forth important historical nuances of the thought world of the New Testament. Bultmann stresses that the biblical concept of knowledge involves the person who knows and does not remain merely theoretical. Therefore, “knowing also contains the element of recognition (Anerkennen); it is not without the element of emotion, or rather the movement of the will.” In the New Testament, knowledge of the divine will is “primarily recognition, an obedient or thankful submission to what is known.” The word gnosis means the “obedient recognition of God’s will” or a “recognition of God’s new plan of salvation” (Bultmann 1933, 697–707). Likewise, the Hebrew concept of faith and trust can be understood as recognition. The faithful human response to God’s promise can be labelled as an act of recognition (Anerkennung). Faith is a personal relationship with Christ in which we “recognize him as Lord.” In this relationship, faith in the proclaimed content is inseparable from faith in the person mediated thereby. In this sense, faith as recognition is internalist and brings about “a radical re-orientation” or “a new eschatological existence” of the believer (Bultmann 1959, 186–187, 209–212). The other leading figure of dialectical theology, Karl Barth, likewise employs the concept of recognition prominently in his Kirchliche Dogmatik. Barth teaches, not unlike Spalding, that the appropriation of Christian truth occurs first through recognition (Anerkennen). The acts

266  Risto Saarinen of knowing (Erkennen) and confessing (Bekennen) can only take place after recognition. In this manner, Barth’s concept also assumes the existential primacy of recognition: Christian faith is an acknowledgement (Anerkennen). In our description of that taking cognisance (Kenntnisnahme, i.e. the generic cognition) this must come first. […] Knowing (Erkennen) is certainly included in the acknowledgement, but it can only follow it. Acknowledgement is a taking cognisance which is obedient and compliant, which yields and subordinates itself. This obedience and compliance is not an incidental and subsequent characteristic of the act of faith, but primary, basic, and decisive. It is not preceded by any other kind of knowledge, either knowing or confessing. (Barth 1932–1967, IV/1, 847–848) Bultmann’s and Barth’s existential primacy of recognition bears some resemblance to Honneth’s view in the book Reification, in which it is also claimed that recognition precedes cognition (Honneth 2008, 46). While Bultmann and Barth return to the traditional upward recognition, they also continue Schleiermacher’s view of relationality and dependence. In contemporary theology, the view of justification as downward recognition is defended by Eberhard Jüngel (2006, 7–8, 62).

13.5 Concluding Remarks In this chapter, I have sketched some main contours of the conceptual history of religious recognition for two reasons. First, in order to show how much can already be done with the help of fairly narrow conceptual history. In addition, I have outlined an internalist thought world of faith community which can be employed as a sociocultural setting in a similar manner as the recognition theorists employ the bourgeois society of the Enlightenment. Within the framework of this similarity, some elements of recognition (relationality, heteronomy, identity transformation) are already available in premodern discussions. Third, I have argued that religious recognition is nevertheless a tradition sui generis. In some significant ways, it is different from its societal counterpart. Equality in particular is a modern democratic virtue, which does not appear as prominently in religious recognition as we would wish today. Another distinctive feature of religious recognition may be its strong emphasis on the recognizing subject. Especially in premodern traditions, it is the transformation of the subject rather than the status change of the object that is at stake in religious recognition. This feature may not be a theoretical weakness but a strength: we can understand deep heteronomy better when we are open to the radical transformation of all parties involved.

Recognition and Fides  267 I have rethought my earlier results in the light of Honneth’s book of 2018. Honneth’s findings shed new light on my discussion of the relationship between Kant, Fichte, and Spalding. Honneth’s book has also prompted me to think about the implicit sociocultural settings that may lie behind my Begriffsgeschichte. Perhaps we can put Teresa Berger’s and Rudolf Bultmann’s exegetical works together, claiming that the internalist faith communities which understand faith in terms of trust and recognition sustain the thought world of my religious source texts. Taking the notion of a ‘thought world’ still further, one can also argue that the important findings of Piero Boitani (2014) and Silvia Montiglio (2013) demonstrate how literary texts already in and by themselves create an environment in which new kinds of recognition events take place. Drama and poetry are inherently relational and deal with the transformation of identities. Shakespeare can rely on Aristotelian ideas, but he can also develop them in entirely new ways, making use of his own sophisticated thought world. In such a case, a thought world is in itself a sociocultural background in the same sense in which the thought world of the internalist faith community is the sociocultural background of religious recognition discourses. Finally, if both religious and poetic recognition narratives stem from the synonymous roots of Latin agnitio and recognitio, we need not postulate overly rigid semantic differences between, say, English recognition and German Anerkennung. Due to their common Latin origins, the different vernacular vocabularies manifest similar issues. This does not mean that conceptual history obtains a narrow-minded priority. Honneth shows very convincingly how the French amour propre and the English sympathy complement the German Anerkennung. At the same time, one also needs to investigate in which ways, for instance, the English verb ‘acknowledge’ shapes early modern and modern recognition discourses. When Thomas Hobbes uses this term in Leviathan and John Locke in On Toleration, the Latin text of these works shows clearly that the English term is a translation from agnosco. Recent works by Kinch Hoekstra (2012) demonstrate that the term depicts an epistemic achievement and is also important for the understanding of equality. While the act of acknowledging is sometimes related to externalist events of social reputation, the term can also carry forward longer Latin traditions. For such reasons, conceptual history should not be forgotten even when a broader intellectual and sociocultural history is needed to understand the historical witnesses and their thought worlds properly.

References Adelung, Johann C (ed.). 1970 [1774]. Grammatisch-kritisches Wörterbuch. Hildesheim: Olms. Barth, Karl. 1932–1967. Kirchliche Dogmatik. Zürich: TVZ.

268  Risto Saarinen Beutel, Albrecht. 2014. Johann Joachim Spalding: Meistertheologe im Zeitalter der Aufklärung. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Boitani, Piero. 2014. Riconoscere è un dio: Scene e temi del riconoscimento nella letteratura. Torino: Einaudi. Bultmann, Rudolf. 1933. Ginosko. In Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, vol. 1, eds. Gerhard Kittel, Otto Bauernfeind, and Gerhard Friedrich, 688–719. Stuttgart: W. Kohlhammer. Bultmann, Rudolf. 1959. Pisteuo. In Theologisches Wörterbuch zum Neuen Testament, vol. 6, eds. Gerhard Kittel, Otto Bauernfeind, and Gerhard Friedrich, 174–230. Stuttgart: W Kohlhammer. Calvin, Jean. 2006. Institutes of the Christian Religion. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox. Ficino, Marsilio. 2002 [1460–1470]. Commentaire sur le Banquet de Platon: De l’amour. Ed. and trans. Pierre Laurens. Paris: Les Belles Lettres. Grimm, Joseph, Wilhelm Grimm, Moriz Heyne, Rudolf Hildebrand, and Matthias Lexer (eds.). 1854ff. Deutsches Wörterbuch. Leipzig: S. Hirschel. Hoekstra, Kinch. 2012. Hobbesian Equality. In Hobbes Today: Insights for the 21st Century, eds. Sharon A. Lloyd, 76–112. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2008. Reification: A New Look at an Old Idea. Ed. Martin Jay. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Honneth, Axel. 2018. Anerkennung: eine europäische Ideengeschichte. Berlin: Suhrkamp. Jüngel, Eberhard. 2006. Justification: The Heart of the Christian Faith. London: T&T Clark. Kent, Bonnie. 1995. Virtues of the Will. Washington, DC: The Catholic University of America Press. Landmesser, Christof (ed.). 2017. Bultmann Handbuch. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. Lemanski, Jens. 2019. An Analogy between Hegel’s Theory of Recognition and Ficino’s Theory of Love. British Journal for the History of Philosophy 27(1): 95–113. Montiglio, Silvia. 2013. Love and Providence: Recognition in the Ancient Novel. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Morgan, Teresa. 2015. Roman Faith and Christian Faith: Pistis and Fides in the Early Roman Empire and Early Churches. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ricœur, Paul. 2005. The Course of Recognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Saarinen, Risto. 2015. Johann Joachim Spalding und die Anfänge des theologischen Anerkennungsbegriffs. Zeitschrift für Theologie und Kirche 112: 429–448. Saarinen, Risto. 2016. Recognition and Religion: A Historical and Systematic Study. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schleiermacher, Friedrich. 2003 [1830/1831]. Der christliche Glaube. Ed. Rolf Schäfer. Berlin: de Gruyter. Schmidt, Thomas. 1997. Anerkennung und absolute Religion. Stuttgart: frommann-holzboog. Spalding, Johann Joachim. 2006 [n.d.]. Kleinere Schriften. Kritische SpaldingAusgabe Vol. 6(1). Eds. Olga Sonterath, Daniela Kirschkowski, Verena Look, and Dennis Prouse. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck.

Recognition and Fides  269 Spalding, Johann Joachim. 2001 [1797]. Religion, eine Angelegenheit des Menschen. Kritische Spalding-Ausgabe Vol. 5. Eds. Albrecht Beutel, Tobias Jersak, and Georg F. Wagner. Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck. S. Thomas Aquinas Doctoris Angelici. 1882-ongoing [1248–1273]. Opera Omnia iussu Leonis XIII, P.M.A. edita (Complete Works, ed. Leonine Commission). Rome: Vatican Polyglot Press. The Ante-Nicene Fathers. 1957 [300–400 C.E.]. Clementina. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. Thompson, Simon. 2006. The Political Theory of Recognition. Cambridge: Polity. Trübner, Karl J. (ed.). 1939–1957. Deutsches Wörterbuch. Berlin: de Gruyter.

14 “I Am Not Like Other People!” Desire for Esteem within the Community of Equals Ritva Palmén

Self-confidence, self-respect, and self-esteem: these three modes of relating to oneself are essential for the possibility of identity formation. They can be acquired and maintained intersubjectively, through recognition by others who one recognizes in turn. All three practical self-relations contain beliefs about oneself, emotional states, and the experiences of having a certain status. As maintained by Axel Honneth, only self-confidence which is supported by love is a universal precondition for self-realization in any community. However, both respect and esteem have gone through a significant historical transformation (Honneth 1995, translator’s introduction, xiv). This chapter builds on this claim but also critically re-evaluates and adjusts it. By exploring textual material ranging from twelfth-century spiritual rehearsals to medieval university theology, I will enquire how practical self-relations and the associated emotions have been explained in varying cultural and historical conditions. I believe that investigation of historical texts may critically challenge modern recognition theory and even enable researchers to test and re-evaluate the theory itself. I also wish to show how contemporary concepts from recognition theory can be utilised as useful instruments for manifesting certain aspects of medieval theological anthropology and moral philosophy. In particular, my aim is to analyze the problem of the desire for esteem in the context of medieval Christian religious ordered life, in which social life and cohesion were basically founded on the idea of compliance and virtues like humility. In this framework, fellow Christians were considered to be equal in such a way that there was no qualifying principle based on each person’s individual merits which would distinguish them from one another and thus facilitate comparison with other people. Rising above others and the feeling of pride were thought to be the most sinful acts. In monasteries, there was no place for differentiation according to social status (Melville 2016b, 356). Simultaneously, however, religious communities had highly hierarchical social structures, regulated communication between members of different levels and strict commands to obey the elders or men of a higher rank. This discrepancy created the difficult problems of how to react to the often-observed desire for esteem DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-18

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  271 and honour and in what way it was still possible to either gain or show esteem within one’s own community. Self-evaluation and self-esteem are greatly dependent on the ability to estimate and measure one’s resources and abilities alongside those of others. Contemporary recognition theories offer important insights and novel conceptual resources for analyzing this phenomenon in human society in the modern era, as well as from historical sources. In order to facilitate my examination of social recognition or esteem in this chapter, I will add a complementary social theory for my examination, developed by Leon Festinger. He has claimed in his foundational social comparison theory that individuals evaluate their own abilities by comparing themselves to others and then gradually come to define themselves (Festinger 1954). Festinger hypotheses that if objective, non-social means for comparison are not available, people evaluate their opinions and abilities through comparison to other people. Festinger mentions motives relevant to social comparison and includes self-enhancement, maintenance of a positive self-evaluation, components of attributions and validation, and the avoidance of closure among them. Depending on which strategy will further a person’s self-enhancement goals, they choose to make upward (comparing themselves to someone better off) or downward (comparing themselves to someone worse off) comparisons (Festinger 1954, 117– 121, 138).1 By exploiting the insights from social comparison theory, I wish to present a fuller account of how medieval intellectuals explained the mechanisms of seeking esteem and described affective responses towards changes in social statuses within communal life. I will build my argument on a selection of texts composed by three medieval intellectuals, all writing in different contexts during the Middle Ages: Bernard of Clairvaux, John of Rochelle, and Thomas Aquinas. All these authors were intellectuals of their time, trying to understand and conceptualize human behaviour within communal life. Bernard exemplifies twelfth-century religious ordered life; John is one of the first representatives of thirteenth-century university theologians, whereas Aquinas is emblematic of scholasticism at its high tide. My aim is not to give an overall survey of the medieval idea of social recognition or esteem, but to offer some carefully chosen systematic analyses of the ways in which three medieval theologians perceived and understood the human inclinations to seek esteem and make comparisons to other people, and how we cope with the consequential emotions.

14.1 Bernard of Clairvaux: At the Crossroads between Pride and Humility As Christopher Zurn (2015, 41) explains the theory of recognition, the logic of social esteem is essentially different from that of respect manifested in legal rights or love seen in close relationships. While legal rights are

272  Ritva Palmén presumed to be shared equally with all others, and love provides unconditional support, esteem is a form of social valuing that is different between persons. It involves ranked judgements of worth of the specific traits, abilities, and achievements of particular persons. The objects and scope of esteem are context-dependent. Importantly, persons can esteem each other only if they share some of the same values and goals. A person may value her own abilities and accomplishments well, thus improving her self-esteem, only if she has received esteem from others for those same abilities. A social schema of evaluation allows one to look back at oneself from the perspective of others. In the dimension of esteem, recognition focuses on who we are – namely, persons of a certain kind with particular identities, based on an estimation of the unequal merits or contributions of these identities. One way to detect the given social schema of evaluation is to explore how people compare their abilities and achievements to those of other people. The motivational drive in this process is our requirement goal of achieving accurate self-evaluation. We wish to know how good or bad we are at something in comparison to the other members of our relevant reference group. We also wish our accomplishments and abilities to be rightly recognized by others. Comparison seems to be an implicit requirement for the correct understanding of our status in society; moreover, it helps us to assess our own resources and their accurate appraisal in various circumstances (Festinger 1954, 118; Honneth 1995, 121–130; Zurn 2015, 39–42). The knowledge of other people’s opinions and abilities makes us feel a variety of emotions. Among these feelings are pride and humility, two contrary socially motivated affective states. Desire for esteem, comparing oneself to others, and the different emotions rising from these estimations were also discussed in the Middle Ages. Bernard Clairvaux, a twelfth-century Cistercian monk known for his spiritual writings, as well as active involvement in society, composed a treatise called De gradibus humilitatis et superbiae (On the Degrees of Humility and Pride, hereafter De grad.). While the subject of the steps or degrees of humility is standard in monastic literature, Bernard’s 12 different degrees of pride is an original contribution. Since pride by definition includes the idea that people have a desire to excel others, its investigation offers a fruitful point of departure for this chapter. Several degrees of pride explicitly involve examinations of our common tendency to be alert to our own status of social hierarchy; the desire to change this status, comparisons of ourselves to others, and the various emotions these assessments cause in us. Bernard’s main aim is to explain how one should manage the tendency to compare and for social competition in the context of communal living guided by the values of Christian life. In its way, it serves as a fine example of theory and practice of social recognition in the medieval context. From the very first pages of De grad., it becomes clear that Bernard endorses twelfth-century instruction, which admonishes religious people

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  273 to ‘return to themselves,’ to see their own inner depths, and then through knowledge of themselves ascend to know God.2 This method requires the use of conscience through introspective acts, which judges and purifies the soul in a way that prepares it for the individual relationship with God. The community predominantly protects and encourages the monk in this endeavour. However, as Bernard’s treatise testifies, this progress and its relation to communal life need continual balancing. Every individual should practice self-limitation through humility and obedience in one’s community. The aim is to imitate Christ’s exemplar humility and obedience to God and then within ordered religious life to secure one’s own salvation. Bernard defines humility as a virtue which enables one to see oneself truthfully, i.e. to discover the pitiable condition of oneself and of all humanity (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 17 [De grad. 2]). It has 12 degrees, or steps, and by ascending all of them, one is able to rise to the summit of virtuous life and the recognition of truth (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 20 [De grad. 6]). Consideration of oneself forces a person to understand how easily he is tempted and commits sins; this knowledge makes a person humble and willing to help others in a spirit of meekness. Pride, in turn, darkens mental vision and hides the truth. The proud person cannot see his true self; he fancies that he is or will be just what he would like to be (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 26 [De grad. 14]). One’s own love for oneself, self-esteem (amor sui), precludes correct self-estimation and judgement, making person unable to make an unfavourable verdict against oneself (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 27 [De grad. 14]). Bernard writes that pride is love of one’s own excellence (amor propriae excellentiae), whereas humility is belittling of it (ibid.). Pride and humility are then two contrary ways of responding to our inborn (sinful) disposition to excel others. They are together like one road which runs in two different directions: a person may move upwards with humility or downwards with pride. If one is able to recognize the steps of pride within oneself, one can also find the reverse steps of humility and thus the path towards a virtuous life (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 37 [De grad. 27]). Interestingly, being mindful of other people in general is the first step of pride, here called curiosity (curiositas). From certain bodily gestures, it is possible to observe that someone is lazy in one’s self-examination and knowledge of oneself, entertaining oneself in watching the doings of other people. The person does not focus one’s attention upon truly important things. As an extreme example of this first degree of pride, Bernard considers curiosity as the primary sin of the fallen angel: Lucifer was looking for a higher place but could not accurately estimate his powers. He wished to be equal with God and foresaw himself as having dominion over mankind. Because of this idle speculation, he was led to unlawful desire and arrogant aspiration (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 38; 43 [De grad. 28, 29, 36]).

274  Ritva Palmén The unordered movement of the eyes or circumspective curiosity easily leads to the second degree of pride, which is here called levity of the mind (levitas animi). Here Bernard is most keen to express his worry about people’s tendency to compare themselves to others and the resulting outcomes of these comparisons. Someone who does not care for oneself, but is more voyeuristically inclined, starts to estimate who one’s inferiors and superiors might be. Then, negative emotions arise, and one starts to envy one’s superiors and ridicule one’s inferiors. A person’s mind is imbalanced: it either rises high in pride or sinks low in envy. The very desire for excellence – to excel others – makes a person distressed when others surpass him and joyful when he surpasses others. This unbalanced disposition is seen in that person’s silly or intemperate behaviour (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 46 [De grad. 39]). In the third degree of pride, silly merriment (inepta laetitia), this imbalance goes to extremes in such a way that a person is not inclined to suffer distress over other people’s superiority. One is not keen to see oneself as inferior and is inquisitive only to observe those things at which one seems to be better than others, excelling them. This restricted image of oneself is falsely comforting and joyful, and as Bernard remarks, this untruthful disposition can be easily detected in people (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957– 1977, 46–47 [De grad. 40]). In the following degrees of pride, it becomes evident that the proud person wishes that his superiority were a public event. In the fourth degree of pride, boasting (iactantia), a person cannot keep one’s vain and joyful thoughts within oneself but bursts them out. One collects hearers and starts boasting, making others know how fine a fellow one is (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 47–48 [De grad. 41]). In the fifth degree of pride, a person’s efforts visibly surpass others. This tendency is called singularity (singularitas) or exceptionality. While in a medieval context it may refer either to the specificity of human individuality and the uniqueness of each and every existing person, for Bernard, it signifies self-centred behaviour (Melville 2016a). Someone who practices singularity not only prides oneself on being better than others, but wants one’s superiority to be outwardly detectable. This kind of person wishes to say: “I am not like other people” (Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 49 [De grad. 42]).3 One has a strong inclination to compare one’s habits and outer appearance to those of others, and then to show how much better than other brethren he is in fasting and praying. His aim is to establish a high reputation among the monks and make a name for himself. However, singularitas isolates the person from the community, which is like an orderly battle line against evil, thus endangering both the person himself and the community. The monastic life emphasizes that one should know oneself and turn to inspect the inner structures of one’s very self in order to continue to enter into knowledge of the world and God. Singularity is a very bad vice because it sets the self of a human being as the only reference point

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  275 and final goal in life. It is thus a form of idolatry and disobedience (Melville 2016a). The practitioner of singularity does not share the same values and goals as other members of the community, and his clearly visible desire for social recognition has different, misguided – even wrong – parameters. The sixth degree of pride, arrogance (arrogantia), introduces an interesting point concerning proud people, i.e. their willingness to conceit themselves by misinterpreting the feedback of other people. They wish to hear or see only those things that present themselves in a favourable light and then put a great deal of stress on those opinions. Then, the proud person trusts himself in almost everything, thinking so highly of himself, but puts still more weight on others’ opinions of him.4 As a result, the proud person thinks that he is superior in his profession of religion, considering himself more holy than others. Not surprisingly, this kind of monk will next fall into the seventh degree of pride, presumption (praesumptio), or audacity. The audacious man pushes himself in front of others, speaks first and loudly. Bernard’s discussion of the following degrees of pride includes lively descriptions of the brethren’s everyday life and conduct. In the final degrees, Bernard describes a situation when a monk rebels openly against his brethren and abbot and should be removed from the community. Bernard Clairvaux’s treatise offers a detailed description of how the religious person oscillates between pride and humility, trying to seek the inner balance of the soul and maintain uniform life in the community. The idea of constantly turning within oneself and conducting analysis of one’s own condition shifts the focus from the differences between people and their outer conditions to the individual’s own moral performance. The individual is responsible for his inner movements, moral behaviour, and emotional states. However, the balancing and moderation of his conduct are essential not only for the individual himself and his salvation but also for the well-being of the community as a whole.

14.2 John of la Rochelle: The Arduous Social Emotions Social comparison theories have shown that the impact of comparison on a person’s self-evaluation is clear, but moreover, the comparisons have direct links to emotions, like assimilative or contrastive emotional responses. Upward comparisons might produce inspiration or admiration but also envy, shame, and resentment, whereas downward comparisons can induce pride or pity (Smith 2000).5 Bernard’s treatise showed this same inclination but was mostly interested in dealing with the sin of pride. John of la Rochelle (1245) was a Franciscan master of theology at the University of Paris, known for his original way of using a wide range of sources like newly founded and translated material in the thirteenthcentury context (Sondag 2003). Unlike Bernard, he analyses several social

276  Ritva Palmén emotions and exploits terminology inspired by recently translated Aristotelian texts. His aim was to offer a more scientific description of human behaviour, whereas the direct practical application in a religious community is missing. In his philosophical treatise Summa de anima (Summa), John presents a new taxonomy of emotions, upon which he elaborates in detailed classifications. Building on earlier thirteenth-century discussions, he maintains that emotions are acts of the sensitive motive power. The appetites for pleasure and self-assurance dominate the behaviour of animals, as well as the sensitive level of human beings. Correspondingly, people have two commanding motive powers, the concupiscible and the irascible, both of which give impulses to external behavioural changes, which are further realized by executive moving powers imbued in the nerves and muscles. In animals, these emotional changes are automatic, but humans can control them by reason (Summa II 101, 248; 104–110, 253–267; Knuuttila 2004, 230–231). Both the concupiscible and irascible powers are naturally inclined to react to certain kinds of estimations with corresponding impulses. What is remarkable in Rochelle’s theory is that while the concupiscible power directs acts through which a person gains pleasure, the irascible power directs acts that are relevant for honour and victory (John of la Rochelle, 1995, 257 [Summa II 107). All the emotions in his list of irascible acts are socially motivated, thus related to a person’s understanding of his social status and its changes. Interestingly, Rochelle’s taxonomy has a naturalistic tendency in the sense that he merely describes the reactions of human beings in different social situations. People tend to feel, for example, pride, dominance, or ambition in certain kinds of circumstances. However, the underlining assumption in Rochelle’s account is that people are highly motivated by their desire to move upwards in social ranking or their desire for esteem. As Rochelle maintains, the irascible emotions are divided into two attitudes towards arduous objects difficult to gain. These attitudes are strength (corroboratio) and weakness (debilitas) with respect to an external object. The general reference point is an individual’s relation to the community. Acts of strength are essential for achieving good things for the person in a society. These include eight different active responses to their related social conditions. The two first acts of strength are (1) ambition (ambition) and (2) hope (spes), both of which are defined by the fact that they are oriented towards future honour and excellence, i.e. the rising of social status. Hope involves a belief that this rising will be achieved. (3) Pride (superbia) and (4) dominance (dominatio) are acts of strength that are oriented to one’s present situation, and they both involve downward comparison. Their aim is to reinforce one’s social status by rising higher and dominating others. (5) Contempt (contemptus), in turn, has an element of upward comparison since it causes one to detest one’s own

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  277 inferiority and disregard one’s superiors or estimate them as of little value. (6) Courage (audacia) indicates that one has a desire to meet the enemy with confidence that one is going to win. Even (7) anger (ira) has its concrete social dimension since it is the desire to seek revenge or to punish. The last act of strength in Rochelle’s list is a surprising novelty: (8) magnanimity (magnanimitas). It refers to lifting oneself up for, or in other words opening oneself up to, the revenge or punishment of others (John of la Rochelle, 1995, 259–260 [Summa II 107]). These acts of strength have their corresponding acts of weakness in social situations. The motive is to avoid arduous goods or things related to excellence. Poverty of spirit (paupertas spiritus) is the opposite of ambition, while desperation (desperatio) opposes hope. Someone in poverty of spirit is disposed to shy away from high status and excellence. Humility (humilitas) opposes both pride and dominance, being the love of one’s subjective status. Reverence (reverentia) opposes contempt since a reverent person estimates other people’s excellence as higher than his own and then withdraws to his proper measure. Courage has three separate contrary emotions, which describe flight from evil: penitence toward past evil things, impatience towards present evil things, and fear of future evil things. Rochelle emphasizes that all these irascible emotions represent flight from something good that is difficult to get, not from some good in general (John of la Rochelle, 1995, 260–261 [Summa II 107]). The idea that these emotions are related to changes in social status or understanding of one’s own measure indicates two things. First, Rochelle considered that communal life involves arduous or difficult good things, like excellence or victory. Second, he understood that one’s affective responses are linked to the process of establishing one’s place in the hierarchy. Moreover, acts of weakness including humility or reverence are not treated as morally more laudable than acts of strength, which embrace such emotions as pride or anger but also hope and courage. In the background lies the idea that one evaluates some things as easily accessible whereas others are difficult to gain, meaning that activating motives are either easy or arduous. While the social aspect is evident in irascible emotions, Rochelle thinks that some of the concupiscible emotions have social implications as well. For instance, he counts envy (invidia) and pity (misericordia) as concupiscible emotions, but they both are motivated by one’s understanding of the differences between oneself and others. However, their aim is not to change one’s own status; they are mere subjective feelings arising from the acknowledgement of one’s social position and can thus be defined as otherregarding emotions. Hence, envy is an act of dislike in regard to another person’s prosperity, whereas pity is an act of dislike in relation to another person’s troubles (John of la Rochelle, 1995, 257–258 [Summa II 107]). In sum, John of la Rochelle’s account shows how medieval intellectuals explained human responses to status changes and discussed social

278  Ritva Palmén emotions. By taking into account such subjective experiences as hope, despair, or anger as part of the social play of gaining or avoiding social esteem or prosperity, Rochelle builds a rich imagery of the human being as a social animal who is highly sensitive to his place in his society.

14.3 Thomas Aquinas: Pride and Glory One of the crucial claims in contemporary recognition theory is that gaining social recognition is constitutively tied to developing a healthy sense of self. It also maintains that people need to understand the set of socially current expectations and aspirations and share the same ‘esteem order’ or community of value. The phenomenon of desire for social ­recognition or desire for esteem, as well as understanding one’s own measure, are themes that interrelate in Thomas Aquinas’s thought as well. Working within the confines of Paris University, Aquinas expounded upon such topics as social emotions, pride, and humility by synthesizing a variety of sources. Compared to Bernard and John of la Rochelle, Aquinas utilizes much richer terminological resources. The most important difference is that he exploits insights from Aristotle’s ethical thinking and theory of emotions. In the following, I wish to show that Aquinas’s moral philosophy assumes several psycho-sociological tendencies that describe people’s propensity for the desire for esteem and comparing themselves to others, mostly by explaining sinful forms of such comparisons. These tendencies are best seen in his examinations of the sins of pride, vainglory, envy, arrogance, and ambition.6 The social motivation behind these vices is a disordered attempt to seek social esteem and honour. Aquinas applies the Aristotelian conception of humans as naturally social animals. He thinks that the society itself is bound to be hierarchical, those within it obtaining different statuses and having solidified authorities. The theological explanation for hierarchical structure is that order itself is good, and everything that is good comes from God. Even in the state of innocence, human beings would have led a social life. However, a social life cannot exist unless under the stewardship of someone looking after the common good, which entails inequality between people. Some are more advanced in virtue and knowledge than others (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Summa Theologiae (ST) I, q. 96, a. 3; a. 4 co]).7 Those individuals who excel in intellectual power should direct those who excel in operative power (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Summa contra Gentiles (Cont. Gent.) III, 78, 3]). The ordered functioning of society requires the mastery of some over others, which means that inferiors need to obey their superiors. Divine providence guides the universe in a way that the person who rules others is also virtuous and fit for the role (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000, [ST II, q. 104, a. 1]). Commenting on Aristotle, Aquinas mentions that there are different citizens in society, having

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  279 dissimilar functions and dissimilar positions. By means of these different abilities and statuses, people exercise their proper operations in the city. The common work of all is the safety of the community, and this community consists of the order of the regime (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Sententia Politic., lib. 3 l. 3 n. 2]). One’s evaluation of one’s abilities and the ensuing comparison to others is not arbitrary but has two guiding principles to follow: right reason and the divine law. Right reason requires that every man’s will should tend to that which is proportionate to him. The proud person aims higher than he is; he wishes to appear above what he really is. While the reason acts like a neutral assessor of things, the moral gauge is founded on Christian theology, the measure of the rule that God has reckoned. However, the following examination is firmly based on Aristotelian moral philosophy: failing to keep the rule means that one is incapable of finding a mean between extremes of conduct. If a person cannot follow the rule accordingly and measure the appropriate mean, he commits either the vice of pusillanimity or the vice of pride. The very word pride (superbia) indicates that a proud person exceeds the appropriate measure in his desire for excellence (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 8, a. 2]). Aquinas’s detailed analysis illustrates how pride primarily includes inordinate or miscarried comparisons with other human beings. While Aquinas considers pride to be the gravest sin one can commit, his analysis of pride not only explicitly includes discussion of the pathological manner of comparing oneself to others but also implicitly the more subtle issue of accurate evaluation of one’s own abilities compared to those of others. One could claim that the prideful person is not able to accept or understand his relevant esteem order and its standards. As Aquinas explains, pride is the capital sin, referring to the inordinate desire for one’s own excellence (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 162, a. 8 co]).8 More specifically, it is the appetite for excellence, which exceeds the measure of right reason. Aquinas quotes Corinthians (II, 10, 13) where we read, “But we will not glory beyond our measure,” as if against the measure of another’s glory, “but according to the measure of the rule which God has measured to us.” This example shows well how for Aquinas, sins are often thought to be abuses or excessive forms of one’s natural faculties or passions. Pride is not a simple feeling but involves both affective and cognitive factors, like comparative evaluations. If someone commits the act of pride, it is likely that he has distorted conceptions of his place in the social hierarchy, his ability to compare himself to others functions improperly, and his self-estimation is untruthful. Thomas Aquinas’s texts offer several examples where a person compares his abilities or resources to those of others, suggesting a variety of principles for comparison. These can be interpreted as representing different orders of social esteem. Many examples include the idea of scaling and contain the vocabulary of equation: people are said to calculate,

280  Ritva Palmén compare, and estimate their attributes and abilities. The objects of evaluation can be roughly divided into two groups. First, people may compare their social status, honours, material possessions, conduct, future prospects, or abilities like intellectual performance to those of others. Second, people also tend to estimate their inner qualities, like moral righteousness, level of virtuosity, and spiritual advancement. Social comparison and the evaluation of one’s spiritual state are more difficult than measuring external qualities. Assessing one’s internal qualities is also more prone to inordinate or unbalanced outcomes like false self-evaluations and sins like pride. One of the main hypotheses in modern social comparison theories is that people tend not to evaluate themselves by comparison to others who are too divergent from them. People seem to have a self-imposed restriction upon the range of abilities with which to compare themselves (Festinger 1954, 120–121). Students do not compare themselves to teachers, nor do beginners measure their skills against those of experts. Aquinas’s moral philosophy accords with these ideas. As an example, Aquinas mentions bishops and lower prelates who should estimate themselves according to their current social status. If a representative of a lower prelate behaved according to the custom of a bishop, he would be considered a proud person; however, if a bishop exercised similar functions proper to his e­ minence, he is not judged as proud (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 8, a. 2]). The sin of the proud person is that he does not follow the basic rule of social comparison but, driven by the desire for excellence, measures himself against the wrong people. The selectivity in comparing abilities is missing or distorted, the person refusing to share the same evaluative framework as others of his kind. The basic motivation is the desire to change one’s position relative to others. Aquinas does not comment on such cases where a person considers that she is not receiving the societal recognition that she deserves, or she considers that she is justified to recalibrate her societal status or change membership from one group to another. In Aquinas’s Christian system of thought, the only reference point of social esteem and good is God, who transcends the community and individuals. All the good comes from God, the glory should be attributed to him only and he is the sole authority of the esteem order. In this scheme, recognition is likely to be a series of vertical acts, where individuals receive recognition from God, whereas the social esteem or recognition in a horizontal level is bound to be more moderate. However, Aquinas’s emphasis on the social nature of human beings allows some discussion about the mechanisms of desiring honour or gaining honour. Acknowledging the limits of one’s social role is crucial, just like understanding one’s position within theological and metaphysical settings more generally. Although Aquinas’s point of departure is most often an investigation of some sinful or distorted form in our process of evaluation of either ourselves or our abilities in comparison to others, the underlying

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  281 presumption is still that the desire for esteem is a basic human motivational drive. Excelling others or even the desire for honour or glory are not sins as such. A person is apt to receive honour when he has some good quality which excels those of others. Honour and glory are interrelated since the natural result of being honoured is glory (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 132, a. 1 co]). Aquinas thinks that honour is a good thing, even the greatest of external goods. It means that others show reverence to a person and thus witness his excellence. An important precondition for honour and glory is that a person understands that he has not from himself the thing in which he excels, but the good is something divine in him. In this sense, bearing in mind that the honour is due to God, desire for esteem is possible in a Christian community. The person may also be pleased with his excellence and its outward appearance because it enables him to benefit others. People should even care for their honour because reason commands people to avoid doing things that are contrary to honour (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 131, a. 1 ad 1]). However, desire for honour may be inordinate as well. It is then termed ambition and classified as a sin. There are three different ways of being ambitious: (1) a person desires recognition (testimonium) of an excellence which he has not, which is to desire more than his share of honour; (2) a person desires honour for himself without reference to God; (3) a person is not employing the honour to the benefit of others (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 131, a. 1 co]). Aquinas acknowledges that people love to be honoured, since through it they acquire certain renown and glory in the eyes of others. As Aquinas remarks, this love for honour may increase in some regimes and then cause great harm to the society, like deliberate injustices (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Sententia Politic., lib. 2 l. 14 n. 7]). Love of honour can be inordinate and result in vainglory, which is a sin caused by pride. The prideful person excessively desires excellence and honour, whereas the vainglorious person wishes that his excellence were a public show. A proud person not only desires to surpass others and estimate himself highly but also wishes that the positive evaluation of him was a public event and that others would see his good abilities and deeds. While the proud person wants to be better than others, vainglory is about winning social advancement and acclamation. Vainglory’s object is attention, approval, or acknowledgement of what appears good for the audience (DeYoung 2016, 105, 113). As an example, glorifying is false when a man takes glory in a good that he does not have, the good is temporal, one’s judgement is uncertain, or glory is not directed to its proper end. This happens when, for example, a person wishes to perfect his intellect and knowledge in order to be seen by others as deserving praise, not because of knowledge itself (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 9, a. 1 co; ST II, II, q. 132, a. 1 co]). At the root of both pride and vainglory resides an inordinate desire to cross the

282  Ritva Palmén borders of one’s social group and compare oneself with the wrong people, or even with God. Aquinas explains that glory itself includes the idea that a person delights if his goodness is manifested to a multitude of people. However, sometimes a few people or even one’s own eyes suffice for eliciting vainglory (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 9, a. 1 co]). Selfreflective estimation of oneself makes this possible. However, people in general desire to be noticed (velle videri) by others and preferably singularly (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 8, a. 4 obj 4]). The remedies for the inordinate love of one’s own excellence, pride, vainglory, and ambition are the virtues of humility and magnanimity. Humility is a basic Christian virtue, but magnanimity is derived from Aristotle’s virtue ethics (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [NE 1123b–1125a]).9 Whereas John of la Rochelle mentions magnanimity only in passing in his list of arduous social emotions without much explanation, Aquinas offers a more detailed account, trying to fit this interesting Classical notion into his Christian system of thought. Commenting on Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics, Aquinas reiterates that a magnanimous person considers himself worthy of great things (dignum seipsum aestimat magnis), meaning that he is able to perform great deeds and that great things should happen to him when he is worthy of them (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Comm. NE IV, l. 8, 736]). Yet, Aquinas notes that humility acts as a moderator, guarding against overestimation of one’s abilities. If the mind tends to high things immoderately, humility tempers and restrains the mind, whereas magnanimity strengthens the mind against despair, urging it on to the pursuit of great things according to the right reason (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 161, a. 1 ad 3; Cf. Comm. NE IV, l. 10, 762–766]). Estimating the right measure of one’s worth is essential but difficult to accomplish. Aquinas writes that it is not easy to find an exact norm for appraising one’s worth. It can go wrong in two ways, estimating one’s abilities as either too high or too low. The latter case indicates that a person has too little self-esteem, which means that he is not trying to achieve great things that are within the reach of his competence. If a person fails to know his own worth, he is called pusillanimous (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Comm. NE IV, l. 8, 739–740]). However, whereas for Aristotle the chief aim for a magnanimous person is his own honour, Aquinas emphasizes that the magnanimous person has the self-transcendent goal of the common good. Magnanimous people are willing to persevere in the face of difficulty for the sake of achieving great public worth, something that can win justified public praise. Their accomplishments are genuinely worthy of honour. The magnanimous person also knows his own worth and expects others to acknowledge it through honour but, unlike a proud person, still recognizes that God is vastly superior to any human being and every great deed and goodness comes from him alone (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [Comm. NE IV, l. 8, 740, 742]).

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  283 Humility, in turn, has important balancing effects for a person’s selfevaluative process. Rational evaluation of one’s resources and abilities is essential, but humility moderates the appetite for a higher position. Aquinas’s vocabulary indicates reflective use of estimation. Humility observes the rule of right reason whereby a man has true self-estimation (veram existimationem de se habet). The proud man, however, does not observe this rule of right reason, for he esteems himself as greater than he is, and this is the outcome of an inordinate desire for one’s own excellence (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 162, a. 3 ad 2]).

14.4 Natural Hope and Future Orientation In this last part of the chapter, I will analyze Aquinas’s theory of natural hope by asking what the roles of a person’s actual experiences and social context are in the search for social recognition and esteem. The discussion of hope serves as an example of the medieval discussion related to the topic of social recognition, which is not directly determined by theological assumptions.10 In his analysis, Aquinas has a pragmatic attitude, occasionally even naturalistic. The adequate forming of hope needs to take into account the necessities of real life, the resources that one has, and, interestingly, the experiences of life. Ordered hope also includes an ability to evaluate one’s own performance intersubjectively. The natural emotion of hope arises spontaneously when the human being encounters a good that is difficult to attain but still reachable. Hope is a disposition towards good things that lie in the future. The attainability of these objects is an important factor for eliciting hope; the achievement of the good objects involves some difficulty – objects within easy reach are desired, not hoped for. However, a person must judge that the hoped-for reality lies within one’s real or possible prospects. This careful calculation of right distance and the attainability of the possible objects of hope offers a good platform for rightly comparing and measuring oneself against others and correctly estimating one’s abilities and resources. When someone desires something and then calculates that he can get it, he starts to believe that he can get it. The resulting appetitive movement of this belief is called confidence (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, I, q. 40, a. 1 ad 3; see also ST II, I, q. 40, a. 1 co; ST II, I, q. 40, a. 2 ad 2]). Desire for some object is accompanied by an estimation of oneself since the estimation of one’s resources is important in deciding whether pursuing the desired object is a realistic option at all. The individual is not moved towards something that he considers impossible to get. Since the object of hope is a future good that is difficult to obtain but still within the reach of a person, calculation of possible future scenarios and risks, i.e. defining the limits of hope, is essential. Something may be the cause of hope for two reasons: either it enables a person to do something or it makes him judge that something is possible for him (facit eum

284  Ritva Palmén existimare aliquid esse possibile). In the first case, hope is caused by those things that make the person more powerful, which means that someone who has riches, strength, or a great deal of life experience has a good reason to be hopeful. In the second case, hope is caused by teaching and persuasion, both of which give one confidence that one has the necessary abilities and resources to obtain something (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, I, q. 40, a. 5 co]). The opinion of others matters since other people’s judgements and their views of us influence our estimation of our own abilities and set the limits on our understanding of what is possible for us. Adequate social esteem has direct relevance to our inclinations to think of ourselves and what we hope for ourselves. Personal life experience is crucial: previous experiences help one to calculate future prospects. As Aquinas writes, experience generates estimation (existimatio). Experience may be the cause of hope since by experience an individual may acquire the faculty of doing something easily, and the result of this is hope (ibid.). Experience can be the cause of hope, but it can also lead to a lack of hope in that experience can guide a person to think something possible that he had previously thought impossible; however, experience can equally lead a person to estimate (existimatio) that something is impossible for him that which hitherto he had thought possible. This is the way the experience may lead someone to feel despair (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, I, q. 40, a. 5 co]). This means also that our actual life circumstances dictate how we consider our future to be. Hope has its corresponding vices, which are despair arising from sloth and presumption arising from vainglory. In his De malo, Aquinas links pride and hope together, mentioning that both are related to desiring good things. Pride is an inordinate desire for excellence, whereas hope is related to a future good difficult to attain. In addition, hope can sometimes be immoderate since inordinate hope is presumption, which pertains to pride (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [De malo q. 8, a. 3 rp 1]). Aquinas gives two examples of those who are not good in their self-estimations: young people and drunken men. They consider themselves capable, but in reality, they are unsteady and do not recognize their defects. In their inability to understand and accept their own limits, they do not evaluate their powers correctly; furthermore, they can also readily misunderstand the nature of the desired object of hope. As a consequence, they suffer from a false hope (bona spes), an irrational belief that they will obtain the desired object. Hope is rational only if one calculates that it is wise to desire this good at this time (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, I, q. 40, a. 6 co]; Miner 2009, 223–225). Magnanimity and humility are essential for the proper ordering of natural hope; an appropriate hope is the result of successful balancing between humility and magnanimity. In particular, hope needs humility to estimate one’s potential truthfully, not exaggerate it. If we overestimate our own powers, it is likely that we will discard the help of God, which is

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  285 the very foundation of the theological virtue of hope (S. Thomas Aquinas, 2000 [ST II, II, q. 21, a. 1 co]; Miner 2009, 228). Based on past experiences and expectations for the future, people seem to form either positive or negative views of their future selves. Interestingly, Aquinas’s texts show that people do not merely compare themselves to others and leave it there, but the outcomes of these comparisons are reflected in their actual performance. One’s estimation of the current situation, evaluation of one’s abilities, and the subsequent appraisals of what one is capable of doing have a distinct bearing on one’s behaviour (Festinger 1954, 117). Excelling oneself above others is seen in arrogant behaviour, the vainglorious person wishes publicly to surpass others, and the hopeful person calculates his resources upward and sets his goal high.

14.5 Conclusions The social phenomena described and conceptualized by modern recognition theories are by no means modern inventions. The analysis of various historical sources illustrates how the struggle for recognition, organizing, and negotiating social hierarchies, the desire for esteem, and the problematics of self-relations have been eagerly discussed through the centuries. While in contemporary recognition theory, recognition is often taken to be a universal phenomenon constitutive of human societies, concrete analyses of the phenomenon should always be based on an understanding of contingent factors determining the contexts. These factors influence the unique historical circumstances tied to particular times and places (Kahlos, Koskinen & Palmén 2019, 3–4). As is shown in the three examples in the chapter, medieval authors identified and analyzed the phenomenon of seeking or desiring esteem within the human social reality. They refer to such notions as desire for excellence, love for honour, love for glory, and ambition. Much of the discussion is built on Patristic and Classical sources and circulates around the analysis of the vice of pride and its subspecies. However, people may also have ordered and moderated desires for social esteem, which is not considered morally blameworthy. The most important precondition for such an appetite is that the person understands that all good comes from God, not from himself, attributes the glory to God and distributes the outcomes of one’s excellent abilities in the service of others. As a manual for good conduct, Bernard of Clairvaux’s treatise on pride and humility has a practical aim within his own community of monks. The detailed analysis of pride demonstrates how Bernard thought that every act of excelling others and even the overly curious inspection of others are dangerous for the individual himself as well as for the community as a whole. The work reveals the need to balance the basic human tendency towards pride by highlighting the counter effects of pride, which are humility and obedience. The central role of these social virtues

286  Ritva Palmén underlines the hierarchical nature of the community, based on the subjective position of some and the mastery of others. The ostensible wish to change one’s position relative to others in the community and the consequent social emotions such as pride, shame, arrogance, and envy must have been frequent problems in Bernard’s immediate surroundings. Both John of la Rochelle and Thomas Aquinas hold more naturalistic attitudes towards desire for esteem and the phenomenon of social recognition. As they seem to think, social life includes a number of regularities, like the arduous social emotions. John explicitly claims that these emotions are connected to honour and social status. Aquinas’s theory of desire for esteem, or as he puts it, desire for honour or glory, is more nuanced in the sense that he wishes to exploit traditions rising from both Christian spirituality like Bernard’s writings and Aristotelian discussion of virtue ethics and political philosophy. The outcome embraces discussion about how people compare themselves to others, how social emotions arise, and the nature of pride. In his discussion of hope, Aquinas shows that social circumstances are important for a person’s self-estimation and future orientation. By emphasizing the correct estimation of oneself, he acknowledges more than others the importance of the reflexivity of a human being as an essential precondition for orderly communal life. As a conclusion, medieval authors debate over the desire for esteem and even allow some room for the idea of the natural need for social recognition and self-esteem. However, it seems that the Christian theological anthropology emphasizing equality before the eyes of God, complete subjection to divine reality, and vertical recognition relations, as well as moral philosophy stressing the dangers of pride, keeps the discussion limited. Still, I think that some interesting new reflections concerning recognition and its three dimensions in the medieval context might be found in at least two directions. Both of them could also contribute in turn to modern theories of recognition. First, Aquinas’s discussion of hope is interesting since it takes seriously the impact of our personal experiences and the feedback of others on the ways we future-orient and set our expectations. The idea is quite simple but could be put more forcefully also in modern discussions, thus addressing questions of hope and despair as reactions to societal and environmental factors as part of recognition theories as well. Second, while the discussion of social recognition and esteem is fairly narrow in medieval philosophical theory, some of the related themes can still be found. As shown in this chapter, medieval theologians took seriously the affective side of human beings, paying much attention to different emotional responses to issues dealing with communal life and social statuses. Hence, the analyses of anger, shame, dominion, and reverence are varied and interesting in medieval texts. Some of these examinations might offer new understandings of the social effects also for the use of contemporary recognition theorists. Moreover, medieval theologians and philosophers made novel contributions to such

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  287 topics as love between friends, communal love, love of oneself, the need for love, love of Christ, love of God, and love of neighbour. I expect that these discussions of different forms of love and their rich vocabulary can further enhance contemporary ideas of social esteem and respect.

Notes 1 For modern social comparison theories and further discussion, see esp. Suls and Wheeler (2000) and Suls et al. (2002). 2 For some twelfth-century examples of this tendency, see, e.g., van T’Spijker (2004). 3 “Non sum sicut caeteri hominum”. 4 Bernard makes this comment about the proud person’s dependence on other people’s opinions in Bernard of Clairvaux, 1957–1977, 49 [De grad. 43]. 5 See, esp., figure on p. 176. 6 For a list of seven capital sins and their subspecies, and their placement in Summa Theologiae, see Sweeney (2012, 102–106). For a more detailed examination of Aquinas’s ideas on social comparison, see Palmén (2021). 7 The writings of Aquinas are available online at http://www.corpusthomisticum.org. References are made in the text by the part, question, article, objection, or reply number. Abbreviations are as follows: Quaestiones disputatae de malo (De malo); Sententia libri Ethicorum (Comm. NE); Sententia libri Politicorum (Sententia Politic.); Summa Theologiae (ST), Summa contra Gentiles (Cont. Gent.) 8 Note that ordinate love of oneself as such is not sinful. While Aquinas holds that God should be loved more than oneself, self-love itself is a natural inclination of the human being and a root for love of neighbour. See Osborne (2005, 69–112). 9 A magnanimous person deserves what he claims, never shirking from laying claim to what he deserves since it is a vice to claim less than one deserves. It is equally wrong to claim more than one deserves, a vice that truly magnanimous people never fall into. For Aquinas’s idea of a magnanimous person, see Keys (2006, 144–153, 2003, 37–65). 10 Note that here Aquinas’s analysis concerns the natural passion of hope, not a theological virtue. Aquinas’s ideas of hope have been much discussed in recent literature. See, e.g., Miner (2009, 215–230); Cessario (2002, 232–243).

References Bernard of Clairvaux. 1957–1977 [c.1120]. De gradibus humilitatis et superbiae. In Sancti Bernardi Opera. Vol. 3, eds. Jean Leclerq, Charles H. Talbot, and Henri-Marie Rochais, 13–59. Rome: Editiones Cistercienses. English edition: Bernard of Clairvaux. 1929 [c.1120]. On the Degrees of Humility and Pride (trans. Mills, Barton R.V.). London: The Macmillan. Cessario, Romanus. 2002. The Theological Virtue of Hope. In The Ethics of Aquinas, ed. Stephen J. Pope, 232–243. Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press. DeYoung, Rebecca Konyndyk. 2016. The Promise and Pitfalls of Glory: Aquinas on the Forgotten Vice of Vainglory. In Aquinas’s Disputed Questions on Evil: A Critical Guide, ed. Michael V. Dougherty, 101–125. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

288  Ritva Palmén Festinger, Leon. 1954. A Theory of Social Comparison Processes. Human Relations 7(2): 117–140. Honneth, Axel. 1995. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts. Cambridge, MA: Polity. John of la Rochelle. 1995 [c. 1235]. Summa de anima. Ed. Jacques-Guy Bougerol. Textes Philosophiques du Moyen Âge Series, vol. 19. Paris: Vrin. Kahlos, Maijastina, Heikki J. Koskinen, and Ritva Palmén (eds.). 2019. Recognition and Religion: Contemporary and Historical Perspectives. London: Routledge. Keys, Mary M. 2006. Aquinas, Aristotle, and the Promise of the Common Good. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Keys, Mary M. 2003. Aquinas and the Challenge of Aristotelian Magnanimity. History of Political Thought 24(1): 37–65. Knuuttila, Simo. 2004. Emotions in Ancient and Medieval Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Melville, Gert. 2016a. ‘Singularitas’ and Community: About a Relationship of Community and Complement in Medieval Convents. In Potency of the Common: Intercultural Perspectives about Community and Individuality, eds. Gert Melville, and Carlos Ruta, 189–200. Berlin: DeGruyter. Melville, Gert. 2016b. The World of Medieval Monasticism: Its History and Forms of Life. Trans. J. D. Mixson. Cistercian Studies Series, no. 263. Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press. Miner, Robert. 2009. Thomas Aquinas on the Passions: A Study of Summa Theologiae, 1a2ae 22-48. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Osborne, Thomas M., Jr. 2005. Love of Self and Love of God in ThirteenthCentury Ethics. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. Palmén, Ritva. 2021. Comparing Oneself to Others and Estimating Oneself in Thomas Aquinas’s Moral Philosophy. History of Political Thought 42(3): 414–440. Smith, Richard H. 2000. Assimilative and Contrastive Emotional Responses to Social Comparison. In Handbook of Social Comparison, Theory and Research, eds. Jerry Suls, and Ladd Wheeler, 173–200. Boston: Springer. Suls, Jerry, René Martin, and Ladd Wheeler. 2002. Social Comparison: Why, with Whom, and with What Effect? Current Directions in Psychological Science 11(5): 159–163. Suls, Jerry, and Ladd Wheeler (eds.). 2000. Handbook of Social Comparison: Theory and Research. New York: Springer. Sondag, Gérard. 2003. John of la Rochelle. In A Companion to Philosophy in the Middle Ages, eds. Jorge J. E. Gracia, and Timothy B. Noone, 334–335. Malden, MA: Blackwell. van T’Spijker, Ineke. 2004. Fictions of the Inner Life: Religious Literature and Formation of the Self in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries. Disputatio Series, no. 4. Turnhout: Brepols. Sweeney, Eileen C. 2012. Aquinas on the Seven Deadly Sins: Tradition and Innovation. In Sin in Medieval and Early Modern Culture: The Tradition of the Seven Deadly Sins, eds. Richard G. Newhauser, and Susan J. Ridyard, 85–106. York: York Medieval Press.

“I Am Not Like Other People!”  289 S. Thomas Aquinas. 2000 [1248–1273]. Opera Omnia. Online ed. University of Navarre. https://www.corpusthomisticum.org/iopera.html Accessed November 2021. Zurn, Christopher F. 2015. Axel Honneth: A Critical Theory of the Social. Cambridge and Malden, MA: Polity.

15 Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire Maijastina Kahlos

15.1 Romulus and the Ethos of Asylum According to one of the foundational myths of the ancient Romans, Romulus made the city of Rome an asylum for refugees and welcomed all sorts of newcomers inside its walls. According to one Roman historian, Livy (of the Early Imperial Period), Romulus “opened a place of refuge” in Rome, and thereafter “a promiscuous crowd of freemen and slaves, eager for change, fled thither from the neighbouring states. This was the first accession of strength to the nascent greatness of the city” (Livy, Ab urbe condita, 1.8).1 Another foundational myth important for the Romans was the myth of Aeneas, a refugee from Troy, who eventually settled in Italy and became the ancestor of Romulus and Remus. Thus, in these myths, the identitymoulding collective tales, both the founder of Rome and its population were seen as immigrants.2 This ethos of asylum is even more remarkable when it is compared to the foundational myths of many Greek city-states (poleis); for instance, the myth of the autochthonous origin of Athenians. The Athenians regarded themselves as “the most ancient people in Greece” and “the only Greeks who have never migrated” (Herodotus, Histories 7.161). Furthermore, the Athenian myths depicted Athenians and especially their mythical kings as born from Earth (Iliad 2.546–549).3 In the wane of their mythical kings, Athenians in the classical period built their identity as an autochthonous people, originating from the very soil on which they lived (Isaac 2004, 114–124). There were similar myths of autochthonous peoples elsewhere in the Greek world; for example, the Thebans were believed to originate from the teeth of a dragon sown in the earth by Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. Moving from the sphere of myths to historical times, by the first century C.E., the Romans had already held the Mediterranean area in their iron embrace for centuries. At this time, Emperor Claudius instructed senators to accept Romanized Gallic aristocrats as members of the senate. He justified his order by arguing that his own and other Roman DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-19

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  291 aristocratic families were of foreign origin and that the continuing acceptance of provincials (to the army, the senate, and so forth) was necessary (Tacitus, Annales 11.24). His message was that continuing acceptance of provincials contributed to the growth and vitality of the Empire: [w]e added the stoutest of the provincials to the legions and thus supported the exhausted empire; […] Now that customs, culture, and the ties of marriage have blended them [the Gauls, who were immigrants] with ourselves, let them also blend their gold and their riches among us instead of retaining them separate.4 In the second century C.E., Greek orator Aelius Aristides celebrated Roman power in a similar vein: Rome has never rejected anyone; on the contrary, this city receives men from all countries just as the soil of the earth welcomes all men. (Aelius Aristides, Oratio 26.62) Despite this ethos of asylum and the eloquent orators who cherished the idea of cosmopolitan citizenship, not all the inhabitants of the Roman Empire had the status of citizen.

15.2 Roman Citizenship and the Criteria for Recognition How to become a Roman citizen (civis Romanus)? During the Republican and Early Imperial Periods, there were several ways to become a Roman citizen: 1. by being born as a descendant of a citizen (and being recognized as of legitimate descent by one’s father)5; 2. as a former slave freed by a citizen (a freedman obtained partial rights as a citizen, and his descendants obtained full rights); or 3. citizenship could be given or granted to an individual or a group/ people/town (an individual could also buy citizenship).6 The relatively flexible Roman policy of providing citizenship was unusual in antiquity. In other ancient societies, such as in Greek city-states (poleis) like Athens, citizenship was regarded as something that was carefully guarded and not to be shared lightly (Erskine 2010, 14).7 Romans were prepared to extend citizenship when needed. This was because, for Rome, citizenship was a means of extending its power. Rome absorbed its enemies, so to say. The leaders of the conquered peoples were embraced into the Roman system and thus made loyal. Conquered peoples were given different rights depending on the bilateral agreements that were made with the conquered.8

292  Maijastina Kahlos 15.2.1 The Strong Conception of Citizenship: Cultural Criteria As Rome’s empire grew and spanned the Mediterranean, Roman citizenship lost its ethnic and parochial dimension (as originating from a minuscule town in Latium). Being Roman was no more a matter of ethnicity (coming from Rome), but it had rather developed into a status (Erskine 2010, 4, 61). Thus, during the growth of the Empire in the Republican period, to become Roman was to gain citizenship as a mark of membership of the Roman community. This meant abandoning one’s former lifestyle and identity and embracing a new one, especially adopting the Latin language (Garnsey & Humfress 2001, 99–100). We can call this the strong conception of citizenship: it was based on cultural criteria. What did Roman citizenship mean in practical social life? It meant that individuals had different juridical statuses depending on their social status and citizenship. Roman society was significantly hierarchical. People received different treatment and punishments according to their status. 15.2.2 The Less Strong Conception of Citizenship: Expressions of Loyalty as Criteria The Empire expanded and consolidated its power during the Early Imperial Period in the first to second centuries C.E. A strong conception of citizenship based on cultural criteria could not hold throughout this process (Garnsey & Humfress 2001, 100). The Roman power continually had to gain backing from the elite (key groups) in the conquered areas. There was a redefinition of the notion of the political community as the Roman state became subsumed under the rule of a monarch: the emperor. In this process, instead of cultural criteria (such as the Latin language) which became gradually less emphasized, citizenship came to be constructed around the display of loyalty to the ruling power, represented by the emperor. The forms of this display were manifold; one of the most important ways was the so-called imperial cult.9 The verses from an epigram by the Roman poet Martial are one expression of this new citizenship based on the loyalty to the one ruler: The speech of the peoples sounds diverse, yet it is one when you are acclaimed the true father of your country. (Martial, Liber de spectaculis 3, v. 11–12) An indication of this development in which the body of Roman citizens grew and grew is probably Caracalla’s edict of 212 (Constitutio Antoniniana) in which Emperor Caracalla granted citizenship to free provincials (the free inhabitants of the provinces of the Empire). Citizenship was reserved for the free, meaning that a large portion of the

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  293 population – namely, slaves – fell out of the category. A researcher of Roman citizenship has described the procedure in a blunt way: Some time in 212, by an accident of history, the free male inhabitants of the Roman world were transformed into Roman citizens. An absolute monarch decided this would be a good idea, and it was done. (Garnsey 2004, 133) Be that as it may, Caracalla’s decision is one of the most debated issues in Roman historical research. Practically, we know very little about it: all the record we have is a Byzantine summary of the Roman historian Cassius Dio’s narrative and a fragment of a papyrus.10 Some researchers have suggested that the extension of citizenship may not have had a particularly great effect – it is possible that in provinces, there were already many free people who had already obtained citizenship and the imperial government only confirmed the existing state of affairs. Nevertheless, other scholars have argued that a substantial number of people received the status of citizen from Caracalla and, therefore, it really made a change (e.g. Garnsey 2004, 135). In any case, this may have been, as one scholar puts it, “the closest the world ever came to implementing a form of world citizenship” (Mathisen 2006, 5).

15.3 The Criteria for Recognition in Late Roman Society (200–400) Now it seems that with Caracalla’s edict of 212, cultural criteria (such as Latin language and Roman customs) ceased to have such a relevance for citizenship since free male inhabitants became citizens all the same. Citizenship may also have been losing much of its importance in the Late Roman Empire even though it is still debated to what extent this is the case. It is possible that the more important line of separation now went between the groups that in Roman law were called honestiores (the more ‘honourable’) and humiliores (the more ‘humble’). There were citizens in both groups. The Romanness – the Roman identity – was no longer based on citizenship, but there came other ways and cultural symbols by which to act it out (Wallace-Hadrill 2008, 450–452). Defining Romanness in religious terms became more and more emphasized from the early third century C.E. onwards. Being Roman was connected with the correct performance of religion. In a way, this was a return to cultural criteria in which being Roman – not necessarily always being a Roman citizen but a good Roman and loyal subject of the emperor – was defined in terms of religion. In the aforementioned Constitutio Antoniniana, Emperor Caracalla’s edict in 212, the emperor proclaimed religio to be the basis of Roman citizenship (Inglebert 2002, 244). It was stressed that peregrini, ‘foreigners,’ as

294  Maijastina Kahlos provincials/non-citizens were called, having attained citizenship, join the service of the gods with the emperor and Roman citizens: I believe, therefore, that I can perform a [magnificent and reverent] service worthy of their majesty if I gather to their rites [as Romans] all the people who have entered the number of my subjects. (Papyrus Gissensis 40.1)11 Participation in the religious rituals of the community had been the most significant marker of loyal membership in Roman society (as well as other ancient societies). During the Republican and Early Imperial Periods, the most important indicator of membership in Roman society and the marker of loyalty was participation in the sacrificial system of community.12 In the minds of the Romans, a good Roman was suitably pious – that is, performed rituals and worshipped the gods in the correct way. This was thought to guarantee the welfare of the Empire.13 Thus, the relations with the divine sphere were also an issue of ‘public security.’

15.4 The Criteria in the Christian Empire: Correct Religion Being a good and loyal Roman continued to be connected with the correct religion even though the ways of defining this religion changed in the fourth century in the wake of the Constantinian turn: Emperor Constantine started supporting Christianity (in whatever form he adopted it). In the course of the fourth century, the old civic Roman religion was replaced by the Nicene version of Christianity. The imperially supported religion was changed, but defining a good and loyal Roman in terms of religion continued in the Christianizing Empire. A Roman was redefined as being a Christian, and the right kind of Christian to boot. NonChristians (‘pagans’), as well as Christian dissidents (‘heretics’), were not recognized as belonging to Roman civilization. After Constantine, over the course of the fourth and fifth centuries, the identification of ‘Christian’ with ‘Roman’ developed as a characteristic of the Late Roman Empire. Emperors, now Christian emperors, represented the religious unity and especially the Christian unity of the Empire as an issue of public welfare and state security. Anachronistically expressed, we could call this an issue of ‘national security.’ In imperial legislation and in the sermons of bishops, certain religious groups (‘pagans,’ ‘heretics’)14 were argued as alien (alieni) to the Roman order and, in the crudest cases, outside humankind.15 ‘Pagans’ and ‘heretics’ were now represented as the enemies of the Roman Empire.16 Consequently, they fell outside Roman society, at least in these proclamations; everyday realities were another issue. ‘Heresy’ in particular was treated as treasonous. For example, Ambrose, the bishop of Milan, considered heresy a double treason – not only against the Church but also against the Empire (Ambrose, De fide 2.16.139).17

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  295 In imperial legislation, religious dissenters were deprived of their rights to live according to Roman law (iure Romano) and thus as Roman subjects.18 The punishments decreed were similar to the traditional sanctions ordered against citizens fallen into disgrace – that is, the removal of the political rights of a Roman citizen (Garnsey & Humfress 2001, 89; Mathisen 2006, 14). What did this mean? In a number of decrees, heretics and apostates were deprived of their rights, such as the ability to act as a witness, to make a testament, and to receive inheritance.19 Moreover, religious dissidents were divested of their rights to make economic transactions, such as donating, buying, selling, and making contracts (Codex Theodosianus 16.5.40 against Manichaeans and Priscillianists; 16.5.54pr. against Donatists; Mommsen and Meyer 1954). They were gradually dispossessed of the right to serve in administrative and military offices.20 Here again, the practice of everyday life was another issue. These laws were mainly aimed against the dissident elite in power positions; the practices of the ordinary people were not necessarily greatly noticed. It seems that the enforcement of harsh imperial legislation was not particularly efficient.21

15.5 The Impact of Immigration in Late Antiquity Next, I will discuss Roman citizenship in regard to the Gothic immigration into the Empire in the fourth and fifth centuries. As is well-known, in the fourth and fifth centuries, a number of Gothic groups came as immigrants to the Empire – some came as individuals; others were recruited in groups as soldiers in the Roman army. This was nothing new in the Roman migration and accommodation policies: for centuries, Romans had needed and consequently in various manners recruited labour – settlers, slaves, and soldiers. To give an example from the first century C.E.: in the funerary inscription of a Roman officer, it is mentioned that this officer brought across the Danube into the Roman province Moesia more than 100000 of the Transdanubians [that is, people from the other side of the river Danube], along with their wives, children, chieftains and kings, to become tribute-paying subjects. (Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae 986) Even though one can question the numbers given in ancient texts and documents, the core message here is that the number of relocated people was considerable. In the 370s, a Gothic group (Tervingi Goths) came to the borders and requested permission to cross the Danube and settle in the Roman Empire. In 376, Valens, the emperor reigning over the eastern part of the Empire, was in need of recruits for the army and gave them permission to

296  Maijastina Kahlos cross the frontier river. The Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus describes the crossing that turned into a panic because of the flooding of the river: [T]hey were ferried over for some nights and days embarked by groups in boats, on rafts, and in hollowed tree-trunks. Because the river is by far the most dangerous of all and was then swollen by frequent rains, some who, because of the great crowd, struggled against the force of the waves and tried to swim were drowned; and the drowned were a good many. (Ammianus, Res gestae 31.4) After the Gothic immigrants were settled in Thrace, troubles began as a result of misconduct of Roman army officers and administrators who started profiteering by selling food products to the starving Goths. Furthermore, there were several misunderstandings between Romans and the newcomers. Roman writers who describe these incidents state that the intolerable greed and corruption of the Roman administrators was the reason for the troubles (Ammianus, Res gestae 31.5). Even the aforementioned Ammianus, who by no means appreciated Goths, remarked, [T]heir [two Roman officers] treacherous greed was the source of all our evils. (Ammianus, Res gestae 31.4.10)22 Goths began rebelling, and this led to the Gothic War. The Gothic War culminated in the defeat of the Romans in the battle of Adrianople in 378 but resulted in the peace treaty of 382, in which Gothic groups in Thrace were recognized with a semi-autonomous position in the Empire. The war, the defeat, the peace treaty, and the semi-autonomous status of Gothic groups raised strong sentiments among Romans. Goths served in the Roman army, not as an integral part of the regular army as in earlier periods but as separate semi-autonomous units from this treaty onwards, e.g. after 395 under the leadership of Alaric. This worried a few Greco-Roman writers who saw the blurring of boundaries within the Roman army as a threat.23 One of the troubled writers was Synesius of Cyrene, the bishop of Ptolemais, who in his pamphlet On Kingship in 39824 criticized the Gothic contribution to the army and the (alleged) Gothic influence at the eastern court. Synesius disapproves of the use of Goths in the army and stresses the importance of keeping the distinction between the Roman and the Goth: But the shepherd must not mix wolves with his dogs, even if caught as whelps they may seem to be tamed. (Synesius, De regno 14; Garzya 1989; trans. FitzGerald 1930)

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  297 According to Synesius, the Goths can never be trusted – even if they seem to be ‘tamed’ under Roman law and customs. The consequences would be disastrous. Synesius continues, Or, in an evil hour he [the shepherd] will entrust his flock to them; for the moment that they notice any weakness or slackness in the dogs, they will attack these and the flock and the shepherds. (Synesius, De regno 14) Likewise, Synesius argues, the legislator should not give arms to those who are not born and brought up under the Roman laws. He has no guarantee of good conduct from such as these. Synesius’ conclusion is that no fellowship should be admitted with the barbarian (to barbaron) (Synesius, De regno 14).25 Again, here it is worth noting that Romans had recruited non-Romans to their army and had had non-Roman troops as auxiliary forces for centuries.26 In Synesius’ view, Goths could never be ‘tamed’ and be recognized as Romans. Another writer, the rhetorician and philosopher Themistius, advocated the policy of accommodation in which Goths could become settled in Thrace and “share our offerings, our tables, our military ventures, and public duties,” thus adapting the Roman values and lifestyle: and so could be recognized as Romans. He articulated these sentiments following the peace made after the Gothic War to support the policy of Emperor Theodosius I who made this peace. Themistius extols Theodosius’ philanthropia in accommodating Goths instead of making corpses of them (Themistius, Oratio 16.211d). We must see this philanthropia in the context of reality: Theodosius had to make a compromise with this peace treaty in which he had to grant semi-autonomous status to the Gothic groups in Thrace.27 In connection with the immigration of Goths and the subsequent Gothic wars, the dividing line between Nicene Christians and ‘heresies’ became more crucial.28 Goths had adopted Christianity mainly in nonNicene (Homoian/‘Arian’) form.29 Thus, it offered a polemical tool for Nicene Christian polemicists, e.g. the aforementioned Ambrose of Milan, to label their rivals (on-Nicenes/Homoians/‘Arians’) as un-Roman, ‘barbarian,’ and even treasonous.30 Thus, non-Nicenes/Homoians/‘Arians’ were represented as a kind of fifth column that undermined the Roman state from within – an issue of ‘national security’ again.

15.6 Citizen Stilicho What happened to Roman citizenship? As I mentioned, there were other more significant ways of marking social differences in Late Roman society than the division into citizens and non-citizens. One of them was the aforementioned division into honestiores and humiliores. Furthermore,

298  Maijastina Kahlos people could be further divided on municipal (local) and provincial (regional) levels. Roman citizenship was not the only identity of an individual. Did the Gothic (and other) immigrants become Roman citizens when recruited into the Roman army or after the peace treaties? We do not have many sources for this; thus, the issue continues to be debated (Mathisen 2006, 1–48). It is also difficult to say whether the aforementioned Themistius (Oratio 16.211c) means Roman citizenship as such when he speaks of Goths as being “no longer barbarians but Romans.” In my opinion, he is speaking of the cultural criteria of being Roman, not technically being a citizen. The only individual of non-Roman ancestry at the turn of the fifth century who is specifically called a Roman citizen is Stilicho, magister militum (army commander), the mightiest man in the western Empire before his demise. His mother was a Roman and his father a Romanized Vandal cavalry officer. In a laudatory speech, a court poet proclaimed that Rome rejoiced that she deserved to have you as a citizen. (Claudian, De consulatu Stilichonis 3.180–181) As long as all went well – that is, as Stilicho virtually governed the western Empire during the reign of Emperor Honorius – he was the paragon of Romanness. In laudatory speeches, he was recognized as equal to the most heroic Romans of the Punic wars in the Republican past: Marcellus, Fabius Maximus, and Scipio Africanus (Claudian, Getica 140).31 After his downfall in 408, Stilicho was denigrated as both “barbarian” and “pagan” (Orosius, Historia adversus paganos 7.38.1; 7.38.6). He was officially declared a ‘public brigand’ who had aimed “to enrich and incite all the barbarians” (Codex Theodosianus 9.42.22, Nov. 22, 408; Mommsen and Meyer 1954). A Roman writer complained that because of Stilicho, Rome herself was open to his [Stilicho’s] skin-clad servants and was captive before she was captured. (Rutilius Namatianus, De reditu suo 3.49–50)

15.7 Concluding Remarks In the Roman Empire during the Imperial Period and towards the Late Imperial Period (300–400), there was a constant need for labour, farmers, soldiers, settlers, and, above all, taxpayers for areas that had for one reason or other become desolate. In the aforementioned inscription concerning the settling of the “100,000 of the Transdanubians,” it is specifically pointed out that these came as ‘tribute-paying subjects.’ I have described

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  299 the Roman administration as recruiting and welcoming people outside the borders of the Empire. At least some of Roman discourse (myths, history, and speeches) represented the constant influx of newcomers into Roman society as the source of the grandeur and prosperity of the Empire.32 We have also seen that the inhabitants of the conquered areas (that were later formed as provinces) could eventually be recognized as Romans and even citizens. The criteria changed over the course of time. During the Imperial Period, cultural criteria (such as the Latin language) became less emphasized than before, and citizenship was built around the display of loyalty to the ruling power. In the Constitutio Antoniniana in 212, Emperor Caracalla granted citizenship to free provincials (the free inhabitants of the provinces). Defining Romanness in religious terms became more and more emphasized from the early third century C.E. onwards. Then, the recognition of a proper Roman subject was connected with the correct performance of religion. Defining Romanness in terms of religion continued over the course of the Christianization of the Empire: towards the late fourth century, the good Roman was a Nicene Christian. The Roman Empire was an inclusive commonwealth. The Roman rulers understood that the recognition of provincials and newcomers as members of this commonwealth – as Roman citizens – was beneficial in economic and political respects. However, this recognition was not selfevident or automatic. I have discussed the criteria that evolved and changed through centuries. Furthermore, the importance of attaining Roman citizenship may have decreased in the third century as all freeborn inhabitants were recognized as citizens. However, other ways of making social distinctions within Roman society became more important. In ancient Roman society, citizenship was one way of making distinctions. (Another, even more significant distinction was whether an individual was free or enslaved). Therefore, the privilege of the Roman citizenship that was recognition for some turned out to be misrecognition for others.

Notes 1 Livy wrote his historical work during the reign of Augustus. It is noteworthy that Livy explains Romulus as following an ancient strategy which instructs “the founders of cities to get together a multitude of people of obscure and low origin and then to spread the fiction that they were the children of the soil.” 2 There were of course other myths of the origins of Romans and their neighbours circulating, but the myths of Romulus and Aeneas became the most widespread and dominating during the Augustan period. 3 This passage in the Iliad is usually regarded as a later interpolation by the Athenian editors in the sixth century B.C.E. 4 The speech put into Claudius’ mouth is the composition by Tacitus. It was the convention of the Greco-Roman genre of historiography to compose speeches to illustrate the character of the speaker. However, in the case of Claudius, we

300  Maijastina Kahlos fortunately have an extant fragment of the emperor’s own speech (Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae 212) in which he argues that the Roman kings were of foreign origin and King Tarquinius Priscus was of mixed blood (propter temeratum sanguinem). 5 Both parents were usually citizens and in legal marriage (matrimonium), or the other parent came from an ethnic group that had a right to marry (conubium) a Roman citizen. 6 A conquered ethnic group/city could also obtain limited citizen rights (civitas sine suffragio – without right to vote). 7 This can be seen as mirrored in the mythical representations of Athens and other Greek city-states. 8 The fact that they were unequally treated was a means of divide et impera. 9 Or, to be more accurate, many different cults of emperor worship. 10 The text is extant in a Greek papyrus (Papyrus Gissensis 40.1). For Caracalla’s edict, see Wolff (1976) and Sasse (1958). 11 Caracalla’s edict Constitutio Antoniniana was a part of a broader project to bring together the peoples of the Roman Empire under common religious and legal traditions. There was a simultaneous effort to draw the entire population of the Empire under the umbrella of Roman law. 12 This put many Christian groups into difficulties as they did not do what good Romans were supposed to do – they did not take part in sacrificial rituals. The actions of Emperor Decius in 249–250, Emperor Valerian in 257–258, and the tetrarchs in 304 were part of this inclination to link the particular type of cult practices to Roman loyalty and identity: Decius, Valerian, and the tetrarchs ordered a universal obligation to perform Roman rites or make sacrifices to the Roman gods. 13 The connection between the correct performance of cult and the well-being of the community is by no means a Roman idiosyncrasy. In classical Athens, for instance, one’s identity as a worshipper of the gods was also one’s identity as a citizen: see Parker (2005, esp. 453). 14 I use the terms ‘pagans’ and ‘heretics’ here but only as shorthand for people who became religious dissenters in the Empire. See Kahlos (2020). 15 Thus, the issue was about who was inside and who outside, who was Roman and who was alien (alienus). E.g., in Codex Theodosianus 16.10.12 (in 392), sacrifices that previously had been the markers of loyalty in Greco-Roman society were characterized as superstitio. 16 Hunt (1993, 156) remarks that, in the process of segregation in legislation, the drawing of the boundary around legitimate religion has almost ceased to be metaphorical: the laws envisage a Roman world the borders of which are coextensive with Christian orthodoxy, and which harbours no corner of refuge for the dissenting. 17 Ambrose attacked the versions of Christianity for which he used the collective term ‘Arianism.’ For the circumstances concerning Ambrose’s De fide, see McLynn (1994, 102–105). 18 Alongside Roman law – the civil law, ius civile, was restricted only to Roman citizens – there were parallel legal systems, provincial, local legal systems, in the Empire. 19 For example, in a ruling against apostates, all three of these rights are removed (Codex Theodosianus 16.7.4pr. in 391). Making a testament: 16.5.7 (in 381), 16.5.18 (in 389) against Manichaeans; 16.5.17 (in 389) against Eunomians, etc.; 16.7.1 against apostates. Receiving inheritance: 16.5.7 (in 381), 16.5.17 (in 389). Legislation against apostates: 16.7.2 (in 383); 16.7.3 (in 383); 16.7.6 (in 396); 16.7.7 (in 426).

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  301 20 For example, a ruling from 416 forbade pagans to enter military or administrative offices or to be nominated as judges: Codex Theodosianus 16.10.21 (in 416). Codex Theodosianus 16.5.25 (395); 16.5.29 (in 395); 16.5.42 (in 408) removed inimici catholicae sectae from the imperial court; 16.5.41 (in 408) forbade ‘heretics’ to serve at the western court; 16.5.48 (in 410). Also see Codex Theodosianus 16.7.2 (in 383); 16.7.3 (in 383); 16.7.6 (in 396/398); 16.7.7 (in 426) for rulings against apostates. Codex Theodosianus 16.5.25 (in 395) excluded heretics from the offices of the imperial administration. 21 The repeated decrees and constant complaints of the emperors demonstrate the failure to put many of the rulings into practice. The reinforcement of legislation depended on the efficacy of the local administration and the sympathies of authorities and the political circumstances of each region. For how legislation was reinforced, see Fowden (1998, 540), Hunt (1993, 143–144), Salzman (1987, 172–188), and Bradbury (1994, 133). 22 See also Ammianus, Res gestae 31.4.6; 31.3.9–11 on the corruption of the army. See Lenski (1997, 161). 23 Garnsey and Humfress (2001), 100–103. There were also some outbursts from ordinary people against the Goths: in 390 in Thessalonica a riot in which the Thessalonicans lynched the ‘barbarian’ garrison commander; in 400 in Constantinople an uprising in which Goths were burned to death in a church. 24 For the date, see Cameron and Long (1993), 127–142; Lenski (1997), 148– 149 n. 56. 25 Furthermore, Synesius compares the situation of the Empire, this mingling of Goths and Romans, to that which causes inflammations (that is, conflicts) in a human body “in which alien portions are incapable of mingling in a healthy state of harmony.” With this metaphor, Synesius urges the emperor (and his audience) to separate the alien parts from the native, in cities as in the body. 26 Criticism appeared at the time when ‘barbarians,’ in this case Goths, assumed semi-autonomous status within the army and the Empire. Ethnic groups that were recruited to the Roman army were usually broken up into smaller units; a standard practice to minimize their cohesion. 27 The oration was delivered after the peace treaty made by Theodosius I with the Goths in 382. For the context, see Lenski (1997), 143–144; Garnsey and Humfress (2001), 101. 28 ‘Goth’ and ‘Arian’ were frequently used as synonyms, whereas ‘Roman’ referred to ‘catholic’ – that is, Nicene Christian, especially after the council of Constantinople in 381. 29 ‘Arian’ is a very problematic term, as it was used polemically from outside to lump together various theological views that had nothing to do with the Alexandrian presbyter Arius’ views. 30 In the argumentation of Nicene bishops (esp. from reign of Theodosius I onwards), it was implied that, as heretics were aliens to the correct religion, they must also be aliens to the Empire. Heresy was represented as treasonable; as mentioned earlier, Ambrose of Milan considered heresy treason against not only the Church but also the Empire (Ambrose, De fide 2.16.139). 31 Stilicho’s combatant Alaric was of course compared to Hannibal. 32 All this might seem a rosy picture but has darker colours too. It is worth keeping in mind that not all immigrants came as voluntary workers. A considerable portion of the labour came as slaves, captives of either war or raids, and not as free settlers.

302  Maijastina Kahlos

References Ancient sources Aelius Aristides, Oratio 26: P. Aelius Aristides. 1981 [2nd c.]. The Complete Works. Vol. 1, ed. and trans. Charles A. Behr. Leiden: Brill.

Ammianus, Res gestae: Ammianus Marcellinus. 1964 [c. 380 B.C.E.]. Vol. 3, trans. J. C. Rolfe. Loeb Classical Library (LCL) series, no. 300. Rev. reprint. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: W. Heinemann.

Claudian, De consulatu Stilichonis: Claudian. 1922a [c. 402 B.C.E.]. Vol. 1, trans. M. Platnauer. LCL series, no. 135. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: W. Heinemann.

Claudian, Getica 140: Claudian. 1922b [402 B.C.E.]. Vol. 2, trans. M. Platnauer. LCL series, no. 136. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: W. Heinemann.

Codex Theodosianus: Mommsen, Theodore and Paul M. Meyer (eds.). 1954 [438 B.C.E.]. Theodosiani libri XVI cum constitutionibus Sirmondianis et leges novellae ad Theodosianum pertinentes. Berlin: Weidmannsche Buchhandlung.

Herodotus, Histories: Herodotus. 1938 [c. 430 B.C.E.]. Persian Wars. Vol. 3: books III–IV (revised edition, first edition 1922), trans. A. D. Godley. LCL series, no. 119. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Iliad: Homer. 1999 [c. 850 B.C.E.]. Iliad. Vol. 1, books I–XII (revised second edition), ed. Augustus T. Murray, trans. W. F. Wyatt. LCL series, no. 170. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae: Dessau, Hermann (ed.). 1989 [1892–1916]. Inscriptiones Latinae Selectae. Fac. Sim. Edit. Weidmannsche Buchhandlung; Chicago, IL: Ares Publishers.

Livy, Ab urbe condita libri: Livy. 1976 [27–9 B.C.E.]. History of Rome. Vol. 1, books 1–2, trans. B. O. Foster. LCL series, no. 114. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; London: W. Heinemann.

Citizens and the Criteria for Recognition in the Roman Empire  303 Martial, Liber de spectaculis: Martial. 2006 [c. 80 C.E.]. M. Valerii Martialis: Liber Spectaculorum. Ed. Kathleen M. Coleman. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Orosius, Historia adversus paganos: Orosius, Paulus. 2010 [fifth century C.E.]. Seven Books of History against the Pagans. Trans. A. T. Fear. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press.

Papyrus Gissensis 40: Wolff, Hartmut. 1976. Die Constitutio Antoniniana und Papyrus Gissensis 40.1. Doctoral dissertation, 1972. Faculty of Philosophy: University of Cologne.

Rutilius Namatianus, De reditu suo: Rutilius Namatianus. 2007 [fifth century C.E.]. Sur son retour. Ed. and trans. Étienne Wolff (collab. Serge Lancel and Joëlle Soler). Paris: Les Belles Lettres.

Synesius, De regno: Synesius. 1989 [4th c.]. De regno. In Opere di Sinesio di Cirene: epistole, operette, inni, ed. Antonio Garzya. Torino: Unione Tipografico, Editrice Torinese. English edition: Synesius. 1930 [4th c.]. De regno. In The Letters of Synesius of Cyrene, vol. 1, ed. and trans. Augustine FitzGerald. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Tacitus, Annales: Tacitus. 1891 [2nd c.]. The Annals of Tacitus (Cornelii Taciti Annalium ab excessu Divi Augusti libri: Vol. II, books XI-XVI). Ed. and introd. Henry Furneaux. Oxford: Clarendon Press (OUP).

Themistius, Oratio 16: Heather, Peter and David Moncur (eds.). 2001. Politics, Philosophy, and Empire in the Fourth Century: Select Orations of Themistius. Translated Texts for Historians series, no. 36. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press.

Modern sources Bradbury, S. 1994. Constantine and the Problem of Anti-Pagan Legislation in the Fourth Century. CP 89: 120–139. Cameron, Alan and Long, Jacqueline. 1993. Barbarians and Politics at the Court of Arcadius. Berkeley: University of California Press. Erskine, Andrew. 2010. Roman Imperialism. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Fowden, Garth. 1998. Polytheist Religion and Philosophy. In Cambridge Ancient History XIII: The Late Empire, A.D. 337–425, ed. Averil Cameron and Peter Garnsey, 538–560. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Garnsey, Peter. 2004. Roman citizenship and Roman Law in the Late Empire. In Approaching Late Antiquity, eds. Simon Swain and Mark Edwards, 133–155. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

304  Maijastina Kahlos Garnsey, Peter and Caroline Humfress. 2001. The Evolution of the Late Antique World. Cambridge: Orchard Academic. Inglebert, Hervé. 2002. Citoyenneté romaine, romanités et identités romaines sous l’empire. In Idéologies et valeurs civiques dans le Monde Romain: hommage à Claude Lepelley, ed. Hervé Inglebert, 241–260. Paris: Picard. Isaac, Benjamin. 2004. The Invention of Racism in Classical Antiquity. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Hunt, David. 1993. Christianising the Roman Empire: The Evidence of the Code. In The Theodosian Code: Studies in the Imperial Law of Late Antiquity, eds. Jill Harries and Ian Wood, 143–158. London: Duckworth. Kahlos, Maijastina. 2020. Religious Dissent in Late Antiquity, 350–450. New York: Oxford University Press. Lenski, Noel. 1997. Initium mali Romano imperio: Contemporary Reactions to the Battle of Adrianople. In Transaction of the American Philological Association 127, eds. Marilyn B. Skinner and Martha Sowerwine, 129–168. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press. Mathisen, Ralph. 2006. Peregrini, Barbari, and Cives Romani: Concepts of Citizenship and the Legal Identity of Barbarians in the Later Roman Empire. The American Historical Review 111(4): 1–48. McLynn, Neil. 1994. Ambrose of Milan: Church and Court in a Christian Capital. Berkeley: University of California Press. Parker, Robert. 2005. Polytheism and Society at Athens. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Salzman, Michele R. 1987. Superstitio in the Codex Theodosianus and the Persecution of Pagans. Vigiliae Christianae 41(2): 172–188. Sasse, Christoph. 1958. Die Constitutio Antoniniana. Wiesbaden: O. Harrassowitz. Wallace-Hadrill, Andrew. 2008. Rome’s Cultural Revolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wolff, Hartmut. 1976. Die Constitutio Antoniniana und Papyrus Gissensis 40.1. Doctoral dissertation, 1972. Faculty of Philosophy: University of Cologne.

16 Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy Pragmatism, Antitheodicy, and the Recognition of Suffering Sami Pihlström In theology and the philosophy of religion, theodicies have traditionally been proposed as responses to the problem of evil and suffering. This problem challenges theism by arguing that the empirical reality of apparently meaningless evil and suffering is incompatible with the existence of an omnipotent, omniscient, and absolutely benevolent God, or at least poses a severe evidential challenge to the theist who believes in the existence of such a deity. Famous theodicies include the Leibnizian view that we live in the best possible world (in which whatever evil there is must in some sense be necessary for the overall good), as well as the attempts to revive “free will theodicies” and “soul-making theodicies” by recent philosophers of religion such as Richard Swinburne (1998) and John Hick (1978). Classical atheist arguments based on the problem of evil and suffering have been presented by philosophers like David Hume (1779) and J. L. Mackie (1955), while several contemporary thinkers (e.g., Van Inwagen 2006) have proposed “defences” intended to be more moderate than theodicies proper, suggesting that there is a possible world in which God has good reasons to create and maintain a world in which humans and other sentient beings suffer horribly, without necessarily claiming that possible world to be actual or claiming that we would be able to know God’s actual reasons for creating and maintaining such a world.1 The purpose of this chapter is not to review either the historical or contemporary debate over theodicies in any detail. I will briefly focus on a specific form of moral antitheodicism that is opposed to the very project of theodicies for moral reasons. I have argued in previous work2 that theodicies, seeking to philosophically justify or legitimize God’s allowing apparently unnecessary and meaningless evil and suffering – or offering some secular proxy for this traditional theological project – amount to a colossal ethical failure to recognize the suffering other and the utter pointlessness of their suffering. Instead of taking others’ suffering morally seriously and thus fully recognizing it as what it is, theodicies (as well as the only allegedly more moderate ‘defences’) arguably instrumentalize DOI: 10.4324/9781003259978-20

306  Sami Pihlström suffering in the service of some postulated or imagined overall good. Accordingly, the concept of recognition is central to my concerns in this chapter, and to my defence of antitheodicism more generally, even though I cannot here offer any systematic articulation of that concept (cf., e.g., Koskinen 2017). An argument for antitheodicism focusing on the moral need to appropriately recognize the reality of suffering, or to take evil seriously, can draw upon various sources, including William James’s (1907) pragmatism, Wittgensteinian philosophy of religion (e.g., Phillips 2004), and post-Holocaust Jewish moral reflection exemplified by Emmanuel Levinas’s (2006) ethics of otherness, all of which can be interpreted as fundamentally Kantian approaches to theodicism and antitheodicism (Kivistö and Pihlström 2016, Chapters 3–5). These antitheodicisms are “Kantian” not because they would necessarily explicitly refer to Immanuel Kant’s own criticism of theodicies but because (i) they can (implicitly) be traced back to Kant’s (1791) “Theodicy Essay” and its rejection of theodicies as violations of the limits of human reason (based on the general approach of Kantian critical philosophy), and (ii) they arguably seek to show that theodicies violate the necessary conditions for the possibility of adopting a moral perspective on the world and other human beings.3 Here I cannot explore the Kantian nature of antitheodicism in any depth, but it should be kept in mind throughout this discussion that antitheodicism is, even when pragmatically developed, a species of critical philosophy in a sense indebted to, even if not directly derived from, Kant. It is critical not only of theodicies themselves but also of the very project we seek to engage in when attempting to deliver a theodicy as a response to the ‘argument from evil,’ which challenges theism by referring to apparently unnecessary and meaningless evil and suffering. There is something seriously wrong in this entire discourse, primarily because its key assumption, i.e., that evil and suffering can in some sense meaningfully be ‘measured,’ quantified, and defined – and that sufferings could therefore be seen as appropriate prices to be paid for some other, comparable goods – as such tends to fail to recognize the sufferer, who experiences their suffering as meaningless, immeasurable, incomparable, perhaps even undefinable. The early sections of this chapter will introduce the antitheodicist argumentation in relatively broad strokes, focusing on an ethical critique launched against the theodicist temptation to render suffering meaningful and proposing to interpret this critique in terms of the concept of recognition. I will then consider the natural theodicist move according to which theodicies (and ‘defences’) are ‘purely theoretical.’ Toward the end of the chapter, I will illustrate my case for antitheodicism with some selected references to Primo Levi’s Holocaust writings.

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16.1 The Availability of Antitheodicy In general, the moral antitheodicist claims theodicies to be immoral, confused, or even pseudo-religious and superstitious.4 However, we cannot seriously maintain that major historical theologians and philosophers such as Augustine or Thomas Aquinas are ‘pseudo-religious’ thinkers, as their work to a great extent defines the tradition of Western theology (claiming anything like that would surely amount to a reductio ad absurdum of any antitheodicism). Generally, medieval philosophers’ reactions to the problem of evil seem to have manifested either an accidental strategy or an instrumental one (Posti 2017): either evil is a mere unintended consequence of good things (i.e. some evil follows from goodness), or God can use evil instrumentally for good purposes (i.e. some good follows from evil). Medieval philosophers concerned with divine providence were thus inevitably theodicists of some kind, though many of them also discussed empathy or compassion (misericordia) toward the sufferer as an important virtue – and this, for many of them, may in fact have been a more important context for the discussions of suffering than any metaphysical theorization about theodicy. These concepts have a very interesting history going back to Aristotle, and they are also used in contemporary discussions in a variety of ways. In general, compassion in this tradition involves the emotion of sorrow felt due to another person’s misfortune (cf. Knuuttila 2019), and it is in this spirit of compassion – or, more critically, of “compassionate indignation” (cf. Gleeson 2012) triggered by unjust suffering – that the antitheodicist approaches human miseries, resisting all rationalizing theodicist reconciliation attempts. In order to avoid anachronistic moralizing judgements on, say, medieval philosophers’ theodicist attitudes, we must, in any case, understand the problem of evil and suffering itself as historically contextualized and mutable, drawing serious attention to the fundamental differences among the contexts within which this problem is discussed and the approaches made possible by those contexts. The problem of evil and suffering is inextricably intertwined with our practices of reflecting on experiences of evil and suffering in the historical situations we live in, and those practices evolve along with the changes in our lives and the general human practices we engage in. This is one reason why our topic is inherently related to the historically evolving practices of recognizing other human beings. Furthermore, when construing the other’s suffering in a theodicist manner, we not only fail to recognize the suffering victim as what s/he is – a victim of meaningless evil and suffering – but we arguably also misrecognize their suffering itself as something that is in some sense meaningful, functional, or measurable, thus forcing a certain ethically and possibly also politically oppressive ‘recognizing as’ structure into the other’s experiences that require a very different kind of recognition (viz., as something immeasurable, as lacking any function or meaning).

308  Sami Pihlström Clearly, someone like Thomas Aquinas, for instance, lived and wrote in a world entirely different from ours. His theodicy problem is (was) not ours. For him, God’s existence is no issue; the theodicy problem is merely how exactly, not whether his classical version of theism and the reality of evil are compatible. For us modern thinkers, the problem of evil and suffering highlights the general fragility and uncertainty of any permanent and deep values, including our (possible) commitment to God’s reality. It is a problem that haunts any attempt to view the world we live in as meaningful, as morally structured, as humanly comprehensible, and so forth – whether those attempts are religious or secular. In this regard, while traditional philosophers of religion like Peter van Inwagen (2006) consider the problem of evil narrowly in terms of the coherence and rationality of theism, broader discussions of this issue such as Susan Neiman’s (2002) emphasize the general (in)comprehensibility of the world as a key to the problem. It is, arguably, only with Kant’s critical philosophy that the theodicy issue receives its existentially burning form: how should we (or I) respond ethically to others’ suffering and their experiences of its meaninglessness?5 How, then, does the problem of evil and suffering turn into a truly ethical (and hence practical) problem, differing from the rather purely intellectual and metaphysical form it takes in someone like Leibniz? Our problem – especially after the Holocaust – is how to properly, or morally adequately, acknowledge the suffering other (either in a theistic context or in a secular one). This problem is very different from, say, the scholastics’ problem of securing the coherence of Christian theism, or even from Leibniz’s general metaphysical concerns. It is (only) in this context, framed by the ethical task of acknowledging the suffering other (conceived as a Kantian or quasi-Kantian moral obligation), that antitheodicy arguably becomes available to us as something like a ‘genuine option’ – that is, as a forced and ‘momentous’ choice between two rival hypotheses both of which are ‘live’ ones for us – in William James’s (1897) sense.6 It is such a genuine option for us, especially after the Holocaust, although we may readily admit that it was not available, at least not exactly in the same sense, for (e.g.) medieval thinkers. It gradually emerged, we might say, as a genuine option through the critique of Leibnizian theodicy launched by Voltaire in his Candide (satirically referring to the famous Lisbon Earthquake of 1755) and other Enlightenment critics of religion, soon followed by Kant (on this relatively complex history, see especially Neiman 2002), and later by James, Jewish post-Holocaust moral thinkers, and the Wittgensteinian antitheodicists of the twentieth century (among many others).

16.2 Theory and Practice In contemporary mainstream analytic philosophy of religion pursuing theodicies (or ‘defences’), typical responses to antitheodicists’ moral

Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy  309 criticisms of theodicies start with a sharp distinction between theory and practice. Theodicists can easily maintain that at the theoretical level, their justifications for evil and suffering (or, more modestly, the defence according to which God might, for all we know, have acceptable moral reasons that would justify his allowing the world to contain apparently meaningless evil and suffering) may indeed fail to recognize the suffering other, or their experiences of meaningless suffering, while also maintaining that such a failure does not matter philosophically or ethically insofar as the theodicist exercise is, and remains, merely theoretical. Theodicists can (and arguably should) still avoid engaging in their theory construction when actually faced with suffering human beings – by the concrete other invoked by someone like Levinas – and the practical need to comfort them. This practical task of consolation is to be clearly distinguished from the purely theoretical or intellectual task of constructing a theodicy argument or a more moderate ‘defence,’ merely intended to shift the burden of proof to the atheist. For example, van Inwagen (2006, 12) tells us that his careful analytic examination of the problem of evil is “purely intellectual” and that his “defence” is not intended to even hypothetically comfort anyone (van Inwagen 2006, 108); similar caveats are added by a number of other recent theodicists (cf., e.g., McCord Adams 2013). Hence, it could be claimed that no failure of recognition is necessarily committed by the theodicist (or the one who seeks to offer a ‘defence’) at the practical level of engaging with suffering human beings needing consolation (or, in a theological context, pastoral care). Given that the distinction between theory and practice is drawn carefully enough, theodicies and defences may remain purely metaphysical and epistemological, i.e. theoretical and intellectual, while comfort and consolation are practical matters to be dealt with separately in an entirely different context. However, it can be argued – especially from a pragmatist (e.g. Jamesian) point of view – that the very attempt to defend theodicism by drawing such a sharp theory vs. practice dichotomy itself (at a meta-level) constitutes a moral failure of recognition. The suffering other ought to be morally recognized, and their suffering ought to (at least in some cases) be recognized as meaningless, precisely by not drawing such a dichotomy – that is, by not engaging in the theoretical argumentative practice of exchanging purely intellectual ideas pro and contra theodicies at all. The issue, then, concerns the ways in which our practical contexts of responding to suffering may, or should, constrain our theorization about the problem of evil and suffering. The antitheodicist argues that we must not develop or maintain practices that even at an allegedly merely theoretical level encourage mis- or nonrecognition. The mere fact that they do so is already a practical feature of those practices, thus subject to moral criticism. This, we may say, is where the metaphilosophical relevance of moral antitheodicism for the pursuit of philosophy of religion primarily lies.

310  Sami Pihlström Again, antitheodicist arguments and positions as diverse as James’s pragmatism, D. Z. Phillips’s Wittgensteinianism, and Levinas’s insistence on the ethical primacy of the other’s face can be regarded as variations on this general theme. James (1907, Chapter 1) even seems to base his entire pragmatic method on an antitheodicist refusal to attach any absolute or abstract God’s-Eye-View metaphysical significance (either Hegelian or Leibnizian) to individual experiences of concrete sufferings. Phillips (2004) warns us against the morally corrupting language of anthropomorphic accounts of the divinity that seem to turn God into an agent who calculates the advantages and disadvantages of allowing his creation to suffer. In a different but arguably analogously pragmatic vein, Levinas (2006 [1991]) maintains that the justification of others’ suffering is the foundation of all immorality. According to these very different thinkers, moral antitheodicism, it may be suggested, is necessary for appropriately recognizing other human beings as fully human or sharing a common humanity (cf. Gaita 2000) and for ‘learning to be human.’ We may, thus, formulate a meta-level pragmatic antitheodicism by maintaining that it is already ethically problematic to even try to move onto the purely intellectual or theoretical level of theodicy discourse. This amounts to seriously neglecting the practical task of recognizing the other within our philosophical and theological practices themselves. The question now is to whom this duty to avoid the purely intellectual point of view is set as a moral obligation. The pragmatist response is that it is entirely fine to adopt different points of view serving different practical purposes, but we have to carefully – ethically – evaluate those purposes themselves, as well as our attempts to move between them. The purposes allegedly served by the theodicist intellectualizing perspective can themselves be heavily criticized from the practical point of view as ethically problematic – i.e. as non- or misrecognizing. There is no perspective- or standpoint-neutral meta-standpoint for switching the perspectives, but at the meta-level, we are always already engaged in practical ethical evaluation. I cannot develop this theme further here, but I would suggest that this metaphilosophical pragmatism expresses a constitutive feature of our ethical world engagement (cf. further, e.g., Pihlström 2013, 2021).

16.3 Moral Criticism However, as strongly ethically motivated as our antitheodicism may be, it should also acknowledge the “need for a moral order” that James (1897, 1907) always found central in human lives. Theodicies might seem to function as a (misguided, corrupted) exemplification of this need. The morally committed antitheodicist should recognize and appreciate this need itself while seeking to offer a thoroughgoing critique of its theodicist interpretations and manifestations. It is part of our ethical practice of

Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy  311 antitheodicist thought to both recognize the need for a moral order that may lead to theodicies and to offer philosophical guidance out of the theodicist predicament. I have suggested elsewhere (e.g. Kivistö and Pihlström 2016; Pihlström 2013, 2014, 2020) that James, in particular, was a pragmatic antitheodicist committed to the philosophical primacy of the ethical acknowledgement of the suffering other, approximately along the lines sketched in the previous section – contra, for example, the tendency to prioritize the metaphysics or epistemology of otherness and subjectivity in relation to ethics. In contrast, ethics is what grounds our theoretical pursuits, including metaphysics, and this pragmatic starting point leads us to also engage in metaphysical argumentation against theodicies. We cannot first settle the metaphysical and epistemological issues concerning, say, “other minds,” but we must, for ethical reasons, start our inquiries into the significance of otherness from the ethical (Levinasian) acknowledgement of the suffering other and the pointlessness of their suffering. However, one might ask whether there is something like a theodicy by other means in James, too, or possibly even in Kant – the arch-antitheodicist – insofar as pragmatism (or, analogously, Kantian ethics and philosophy of religion) amounts to a philosophy of hope, leading us toward philosophical legitimation of theism. James did maintain that we may legitimately hope for the realization of the humanly natural need for an eternal moral order. Now, it is precisely this need for a moral order that grounds, in my view, not only religion in general, pragmatically conceived, but also antitheodicism itself. Theodicism postulates a forced, fixed, rationalizing, and speculative order that is in the end alien to our natural human experience and its practices. Our active pursuit of the moral order never justifies the very real losses and sufferings there are, nor does it explain them away. Thus, it is by no means theodicist (not even ‘by other means’). It demands, rather, that we recognize the reality of such losses and their significance for our fellow human beings. Theodicies would then violate, instead of responding to, the human need for a moral order of which James is aware.7 It can be further argued that antitheodicism, insisting on not explaining away the meaninglessness of suffering, is needed precisely as a necessary condition for the possibility of adequately recognizing the other person as a (potential or actual) sufferer. It can be part of that adequate recognition to acknowledge that there are sufferings that simply cannot be rendered meaningful in any morally acceptable sense. Therefore, there is a sense in which theodicist attitudes to others should not themselves be (philosophically, ethically) recognized as ethically appropriate attitudes, or perhaps not even tolerated, and this rejection of theodicism can be articulated in terms of pragmatism that is generally critical of any principled theory-practice dichotomies. We may say that for pragmatists theory and practice are inevitably entangled, and the failure to recognize

312  Sami Pihlström this entanglement again constitutes a failure to adequately engage in the practical task of recognizing otherness.8 As Simo Knuuttila (2017) notes in his review of Kantian Antitheodicy, my joint work with Sari Kivistö, I do maintain, as I also briefly explained earlier, that theodicies are morally untenable. Indeed, some antitheodicists have used rather harsh language in this regard; for example, according to Bernstein (2002), theodicies are “obscene.” Are we thus trying to deliver a moral judgement about the ethically unacceptable views of (say) a group of contemporary theodicist (and theistic) philosophers of religion (such as Marilyn McCord Adams, Alvin Plantinga, Peter van Inwagen, Eleonore Stump, Richard Swinburne, and many others)? I am tempted to respond: not primarily. On the contrary, the moral criticism of theodicies advocated by the antitheodicist ought to be primarily understood as moral self-criticism: we should be constantly wary of the theodicist tendencies in our own ways of thinking and our relations to other human beings, and we should actively resist those tendencies in order to properly recognize others in their suffering – even when we realize that it is difficult (perhaps impossible) for us to ever genuinely “perceive the experience of others” (Levi 1988, 128). One way of pragmatically recognizing the deep interplay and entanglement of theory and practice in this context might be attempted by emphasizing the relevance of the concept of irony in this context (and, of course, more broadly). Richard Bernstein (2016) suggests that philosophy can be seen both as theory and as a practice or way of life – and irony particularly highlights this. It is the commitment to the merely theoretical ideal of philosophy that also gives rise to theodicism. (In the context of irony, the dichotomy between theory and practice is, again, part of the problem rather than any solution.) Irony is needed to liberate us from this commitment to the merely speculative and theoretical – as witnessed by Richard Rorty’s philosophical development, for instance. Thus, it is only natural that Bernstein has insightfully written both about evil and about irony. Irony and philosophical sincerity are, then, eminently compatible: irony can be regarded as the full consciousness of our contingency – to put it in Rortyan terms (cf. Rorty 1989) – yet linked with a passionate commitment to recognizing, and alleviating, human suffering in its absurdity and meaninglessness. In addition, irony is obviously an excellent method of revealing situations of non-recognition, or recognition-failure – both in fictional literature and in real life. Both irony and sincerity are thus also crucial to antitheodicism as understood in this chapter; this topic, however, deserves a much more comprehensive discussion than I can give here. It suffices to note here that the key role played by irony is one reason why the issue of recognizing otherness needs to be dealt with not only by philosophical argument but also by literary means; indeed, I will shortly conclude my discussion by taking a slightly more detailed look at a famous literary engagement with the absurd suffering of the Holocaust.

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16.4 Recognition and Toleration Before turning to that final part of the chapter, I would like to briefly suggest a way of investigating further the relations between attitudes such as recognition and toleration – attitudes that are increasingly perceived to be crucial in the philosophy of religion and theology more generally (cf., e.g., Saarinen 2016; see also Koskinen 2017) – by allowing iterations of the attitudinal ‘operators’ representing these and related attitudes. For example, we may say that a certain kind of recognition or non-recognition is (or ought to be) tolerated (by someone in a certain context) or that it is not or should not be tolerated. Conversely, we may say that certain attitudes of tolerance or intolerance ought to be recognized (or non-recognized) as appropriate by someone in some context(s), and so forth. It is easy to see that indefinitely complex cases of ‘nested’ attitudes of recognition and toleration (or their negations) can be constructed in this manner. This is relevant to our analysis of antitheodicism and the ethical recognition failures of theodicism precisely because a certain kind of failure to recognize others’ suffering (a failure ultimately based, as argued earlier, on an unpragmatic theory vs. practice dichotomy) is criticized (by pragmatist moral antitheodicists in particular) as a morally problematic attitude that in a certain sense should not be recognized as enabling a moral perspective to other human beings at all or perhaps should not be tolerated at all due to its lack of such a perspective (or its undermining the very conditions for the possibility of occupying such a perspective). The fact that this kind of interplay of pragmatist and recognition-theoretical ideas in the philosophy of religion seems to be necessary for such a moral antitheodicism to be properly developed suggests that a more wide-ranging and more thoroughgoing integration of pragmatism and the theory of recognition is vitally needed. The problem of evil and suffering provides an excellent context within which the promises of such an integration can be critically examined. Such an examination should also illuminate the relation between the theoretical and the practical – a topic, as we have seen, fundamental to both Kantian and pragmatist approaches in the philosophy of religion (and of course philosophy more generally).

16.5 Primo Levi’s Antitheodicism: A Case Study on Moral Recognition Moving to the final substantial part of this chapter, I want to consider Primo Levi’s compelling contributions to our understanding of the Holocaust as a case study of the relation between theory and practice in recognizing the suffering other, focusing on the way in which Levi rejects (without using that term) all theodicist construal of the kind of suffering the Holocaust involved for its victims.9 From Levi’s ethical perspective, we should clearly

314  Sami Pihlström refuse to even tolerate a theodicy failing to recognize the sufferer’s experience. We should, rather, acknowledge the meaninglessness and absurd excess of the victims’ suffering, including their shame and guilt caused by the Nazi tendency to make the victims complicit in the evil brought upon them. Levi’s powerful writings on this topic, based on his first-hand experience, while carrying a universal human message, have for good reason also been standard references among philosophical commentators on the Nazi horrors (see, e.g., Agamben 1999; Gaita 2000; Alford 2009).10 Levi has repeatedly emphasized that the Holocaust left an irrecoverable injury that “cannot be healed” and “would never again be able to be cleansed” (Levi 1988, 12, 66; see also 52; cf., e.g., Alford 2009, 3). He quotes approvingly Jean Améry’s statement that anyone who has been tortured “remains tortured” and, having lost their faith in humanity, “never again will be able to be at ease in the world” (Levi 1988, 12). One (but presumably not the only) reason for this irrevocability is that the perpetrators of the Holocaust were able to shift the burden of guilt onto the victims, too, destroying not only their lives but also their innocence by creating a ‘grey zone’ between the guilty and the innocent (Levi 1988, Chapter 2) – thus, in a sense, destroying not just their bodies but also their souls (Levi 1988, 37, 42). Moreover, this kind of shame and guilt concerns everyone, not just those directly involved; this is “the shame which the just man experiences when confronted by a crime committed by another, and he feels remorse because of its existence, because of its having been irrevocably introduced into the world of existing things” (Levi 1988, 54; cf. 65; see also Agamben 1999, 87–88; Woolf 2007, 48).11 Such shame and guilt that the survivors can never get rid of are readily comparable to the shame that remains after Josef K. at the end of Kafka’s The Trial (for Levi on Kafka, see Levi 2005, 140–141). While Levi offers us little in the way of explicit theorizing about theodicies, he is absolutely clear in his moral rejection – with horror – of any idea of “Providence” (see Levi 1988, 117; 1996, 157–158; cf. Alford 2009, 143; Woolf 2007, 41). After the Holocaust, there is no way we could continue using that concept. Levi would thus be morally horrified by any attempt to take philosophically or theologically seriously, say, medieval philosophers’ (or contemporary Christian thinkers’) firm belief in providence and their attempts to solve the problem of evil in that context. Accordingly, the idea that he was somehow destined to survive in order to be able to write his books, for instance, “seemed monstrous” to Levi because those who survived (‘the saved’) were not at all the best but ‘the fittest,’ in some sense even the worst (Levi 1988, 62–63; see also Agamben 1999, 60). He reflects further, My religious friend had told me that I survived so that I could bear witness. I have done so, as best I could, […] but the thought that this

Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy  315 testifying of mine could by itself gain for me the privilege of surviving […] troubles me, because I cannot see any proportion between the privilege and its outcome. (Levi 1988, 63; see, however, also 143) This could, I suppose, be rather naturally read in the context of Levinas’s (2006, 97) insistence on the sheer disproportionality of Holocaust suffering in comparison to any explicit or implicit theodicy. There is nothing whatsoever in the entire world that could be so valuable that it would render the Holocaust suffering acceptable or justified in any sense. C. Fred Alford (2009, 101) explicitly argues – in the context of Levi’s reading of the Book of Job (see Levi 2005, 61–62) – that, from Levi’s point of view, to even ask the theodicy question, ‘Why do the innocent suffer if God is all good and all powerful?,’ amounts to a misunderstanding of ‘one’s place in the universe.’ Levi rejected not only the theology of providence but also religion generally – but not because the Holocaust would have functioned for him as a manifestation of the ‘argument from evil’ or any other theoretical argument against theism. Rather, because he was not religious when he entered Auschwitz, he felt (he explains) that it would have been wrong for him to “change the rules of the game at the end of the match” (Levi 1988, 118). When faced with the ‘selection’ and thus imminent mortal danger, he once felt the temptation to pray but rejected it: “A prayer under these conditions would have been not only absurd (what rights could I claim? and from whom?) but blasphemous, laden with the greatest impiety of which a non-believer is capable” (Levi 1988, 118). This attitude, one may suggest, was possible for him because he “took seriously what he didn’t believe” (Alford 2009, 146). More generally, serious antitheodicism, whether religious or non-religious, takes seriously both religious and non-religious ways of responding to human suffering. An example of what Levi regarded as blasphemous prayer – and thus as a dramatic failure of recognizing the suffering other – is actually provided by him in his first book, If This Is a Man (1958; also known by the English title, Survival in Auschwitz). In this work, Levi tells us what happened after one particular selection in 1944, after some prisoners had been selected to be murdered in the gas chambers and others to continue their desperate lives in the camp until the next selection. A prisoner called Kuhn had avoided death (this time) and thanked God by praying aloud, while another (much younger) one, Beppo, was lying in the next bunk, knowing he had been chosen to be murdered. Levi’s moral condemnation of Kuhn’s attitude is harsh: “Does Kuhn not understand that what happened today is an abomination, which no propitiatory prayer, no pardon, no expiation by the guilty – nothing at all in the power of man to do – can ever heal?” And he adds, “If I was God, I would spit at Kuhn’s prayer” (Levi 1996, 129–130).

316  Sami Pihlström This passage in Levi’s early work has been insightfully discussed not only by Alford (2009, 145–146), whose reading of Levi I have already cited, but also more recently by Jennifer L. Geddes (2018). She notes how outraged Levi is “at the theodical logic implicit in Kuhn’s prayer” (Geddes 2018, §2). Kuhn fails to see Beppo as a fellow human being – thus failing to recognize him, as we may say, using the terminology of this chapter. But his failure is much broader: “By ascribing responsibility to God for not being selected, Kuhn’s prayer of thanks implicitly ascribes responsibility to God not only for Beppo’s selection, but by extension, for the whole genocidal system of which it is but one moment,” thereby actually liberating the Nazis from their guilt and ignoring the full human responsibility for the horror (Geddes 2018, §2). Accordingly, Geddes maintains that Kuhn’s prayer is blasphemous in obscuring human responsibility and by invoking the idea of divine providence that Levi so forcefully argues against. As “Levi’s critique strikes to the heart of theodicy itself,” it can, Geddes shows, be usefully compared to Levinas’s account of the uselessness of suffering (Geddes 2018, §§2–3; cf. Levinas 2006). From Levi’s perspective, theodicies are thus deeply problematic both ethically and religiously. Employing the vocabulary of this chapter, we might suggest that Levi argues against a certain morally reprehensible practice of theodicism manifested by even a merely theoretical commitment to a theodicy (though Kuhn’s behaviour certainly isn’t ‘merely theoretical’). Above all, what theodicists like Kuhn fail to recognize is another person’s experience of the meaninglessness of suffering. Their blasphemous prayers try to fit everything, even the unthinkable, even the murderous selection, into a coherent narrative rendering the world meaningful – even in the “black hole” (cf. Levi 2005) of sheer meaninglessness. However, Geddes (2018, §4) also plausibly suggests that just as we should not impose a theodicist claim of meaningfulness on another person’s (experiences of) meaningless suffering, we must not violently impose meaninglessness on the suffering of someone who her- or himself believes in a theodicy and construes the meaning of their own suffering along theodicist lines. Even if our antitheodicism is strongly morally motivated by the kind of horror that Levi feels at the mis- and non-recognition exemplified by Kuhn’s neglect of Beppo in the next bunk, we cannot, for analogous ethical reasons, impose our antitheodicism on the suffering other who does find genuine comfort in theodicies (see also Kivistö and Pihlström 2016, Chapter 6). The (Levinasian) ‘ban on theodicy’ rightly emphasized by Levi cannot thus be absolute or symmetrical. It is, primarily a moral demand set for us, or for me, in our relations to others. Even so, we should maintain the moral right to be horrified at the kind of failure of recognition that is inherent in a theodicist construal of even the most absurd and disproportional suffering as manifesting an imagined providential logic. Such recognition failures should not be (ethically)

Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy  317 tolerated, and this is powerfully argued by Levi in his literary work. Nor should, conversely, the forced attempt to ‘recognize’ meaningfulness in the most meaningless suffering be tolerated. Even our private and theoretical engagements in theodicist thinking – such as our prayers, at least if spoken aloud – do not remain private and theoretical but have practical implications regarding our attitudes towards others around us, as the case of Kuhn and Beppo strikingly illustrates. Thus, the distinction between merely ‘first-personal’ theodicism and ‘second- or third-personal’ theodicism intended to be public may in the end collapse. It would be against the pragmatist approach of this chapter to suggest that at a purely theoretical level, we can accept theodicist thinking (or praying) in first-personal cases (allegedly only interpreting our own suffering in a theodicist manner) while having to reject theodicism (only) when it concerns our relations to others. Our moral puzzlement in the face of suffering – others’ or our own – cannot be easily removed. Whichever way we interpret our own case has implications on how we interpret the world generally. Accordingly, though we should avoid imposing antitheodicism (any more than theodicism) on others, we do have a moral responsibility to be extremely cautious in engaging in theodicist accounts in general and also when they concern our own situation.

16.6 Concluding Reflections As suggested in the early sections of this chapter, the refusal to draw any principled dichotomy between theory and practice in this area amounts to a pragmatist approach to antitheodicism (at least at the meta-level). In addition, the rather complex ethical attitude I have sketched regarding the rejection of theodicies (a view compatible with the asymmetrical toleration of someone’s theodicist thinking when it really is – unlike Kuhn’s – confined to their own suffering and not anyone else’s) can also be seen as a corollary of the Kantian imperative of respecting the person, in others and oneself, as an end in itself, never as mere means. But the Kantian nature of the analysis provided in this chapter extends further. We may note that Kant is a crucial background figure for this entire discussion, its pragmatist dimensions included, not only because theodicies tend to view human suffering (and the world in general) from a ‘God’s-Eye-View,’ being thus committed to the kind of metaphysical realism Kant firmly rejected in urging us to adopt the resolutely anthropocentric perspective of critical philosophy. He is fundamentally important also because theodicism can be claimed to be analogous to the analysis of what Kant called transcendental illusion (Schein). Human reason inevitably tends to seek to transcend its own limitations, even though that is of course impossible for us (according to Kant’s analysis). Theodicies are thus confused more or less in the way the arguments regarding the

318  Sami Pihlström (immortal) soul, the world as a totality, or God’s existence are – as analyzed by Kant (1781/1787) in the Paralogisms, the Antinomies, and the Ideal of Pure Reason (respectively). It is the most deeply Kantian task of recognition to learn to acknowledge these kinds of limitations of human reason and to learn this in an ethically sensitive way, moving from the acknowledgement of our human limits to the recognition of others’ suffering, especially of its meaninglessness. Historically, such a move could be claimed as marking the victory of Kant over Hegel because Hegelian historical teleology might be seen as a species of theodicism secularized, no matter how central Hegel is as a classical figure of recognition theories – but the antitheodicist philosopher celebrating such a victory must remain self-critical enough not to overlook Levi’s reminder that the intellectual “tends to follow in Hegel’s footsteps” by easily becoming an “accomplice of Power” (Levi 1988, 117). It is right here that our moral acknowledgement of the experience of meaninglessness is indistinguishable from an acknowledgement of meaninglessness itself. Only an insensitive theodicist can respond to others’ suffering by claiming it to be ‘really’ meaningful in some hidden sense. It is the task of pragmatic moral antitheodicism to remind us of the necessity of recognizing otherness also in this sense of recognizing experiences of utter meaninglessness. Unpragmatic dichotomies between theory and practice are, I have argued, hindrances to such adequate recognition. In order to properly acknowledge this, we should be prepared to examine both philosophical arguments against theodicies (such as Kant’s, Levinas’s, or James’s, for example) and literary – yet shockingly real – cases (exemplified by the work of Levi). Most importantly, we must acknowledge the unending task of responding to suffering with genuine compassion, recognizing it – without theodicies – as ours. As Levinas (2006) powerfully argues, we, or rather I, must be seen as being always more responsible for the other than anyone else (for some discussion, see Kivistö and Pihlström 2016, Chapter 3). And as Levi (1988, 43) reminds us, “[O]ne is never in another’s place,” even though, paradoxically, we may be ashamed of being alive “in place of another,” as every one of us “has usurped his neighbour’s place and lived in his stead” (Levi 1988, 62; cf. Agamben 1999, 91). Therefore, one must always “answer personally for sins and errors” (Levi 1988, 147) – and this could, essentially, be regarded as a Kantian affirmation of the irreducibility of moral subjectivity. If my overall argument is on the right track, the very possibility of affirming moral responsibility in such a pregnant Kantian sense requires antitheodicism. The final reflexive challenge to be met is to acknowledge that my own defence of antitheodicism along these lines derived from Levi and many others may itself be detached, in a problematic way, from the recognizing practice it seeks to defend.12 We, as wealthy people in a stable society with a safe historical distance from the horrors of the Holocaust (among others),

Beyond the Theory-Practice Dichotomy  319 can afford to discuss the problem of evil and suffering from a philosophical and literary point of view, advancing a complex articulation and defence of a stance we label ‘antitheodicism,’ a stance affirming the entanglement of theory and practice as I have tried to do here. This argumentation, as such, does little to practically alleviate any meaningless suffering actually taking place in the world. The kind of antitheodicism defended here is, I have suggested, motivated by a certain kind of compassion (genuine, sincere compassion toward the sufferer and the victim of evil, I hope), but it inevitably remains disengaged from concrete suffering itself even when at the metalevel insisting on the need to overcome any theory versus practice division itself leading to non- or misrecognition. It is still a theoretical position in the context of philosophical and literary contemplation, available to us in “philosophy’s cool place” (cf. Phillips 1999), and this fact about it must be self-critically recognized as firmly as Levi recognizes the fact that the best did not survive and that true witnessing is impossible. These self-critical concluding thoughts should also make us aware of the fact that even though the crucial moral failure of theodicies can be captured by the concepts of misrecognition, non-recognition, or recognition-failure, the kind of wrong that is done to people who suffer in or from historical atrocities such as the Holocaust cannot be reduced to mere mis- or non-recognition. Their sufferings are a result of something considerably deeper and more sinister: (deliberate) failures to even acknowledge any common humanity in them (cf. again Gaita 2000). Such failures are, I am tempted to say, ‘transcendental’ in the sense of violating constitutive conditions of the moral point of view.

Acknowledgements A version of this chapter was presented at the conference, “Recognition: Its Theory and Practice” (Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies, June 2018). I am grateful to all participants who commented on my presentation. Special thanks for insightful comments and/or earlier critical discussions are especially due to Simo Knuuttila, Heikki J. Koskinen, Risto Saarinen, and Christopher Zurn. I would like to particularly thank Onni Hirvonen for detailed comments on an earlier draft. My greatest debt is obviously to Sari Kivistö, with whom the antitheodicism articulated and defended in this chapter has to a large extent been developed. The basic argument of the chapter has been more comprehensively developed in Pihlström (2020), especially Chapter 6.

Notes 1 For some influential papers on these issues, see, e.g., Rowe (2001). 2 This work has to a significant extent been in collaboration with Sari Kivistö; see especially Kivistö and Pihlström (2016).

320  Sami Pihlström 3 For other influential antitheodicist considerations in the contemporary discourse on evil, see Bernstein (2002) and Neiman (2002). 4 For further discussion of these claims see, e.g., Trakakis (2008), Simpson (2009), Gleeson (2012), Betenson (2016); cf. also again Kivistö and Pihlström (2016), and Pihlström (2013, 2014, 2020). 5 When speaking about the ‘meaninglessness’ of suffering, I am of course not at all suggesting that suffering would be irrelevant or insignificant for the sufferer. On the contrary, intense suffering may be the most significant thing in a person’s life. What is at issue in the (antitheodicist) recognition of the meaninglessness of suffering is its being experienced as meaninglessness from any ‘higher’ viewpoint – that is, its failure to serve any overall good, purposive function, or system of meaning. 6 For a recent discussion of James’s notion of “genuine options” and his “will to believe” argument, see Pihlström (2021, chapter 4). 7 Admittedly, the picture is more complex as soon as we recognize that the theodicist could very well maintain that evil and suffering are irreducibly real yet in some overall sense ‘meaningful’ or even justified in terms of a divine purposive scheme (or a secular proxy). The pragmatist antitheodicist would have to argue at this point that in some sense, the theodicist’s position here would, pragmatically, deny the “full” reality of suffering precisely by seeking to render it justified. I cannot develop this point in any detail here; for a discussion inviting antitheodicists to a self-critical examination of their own tendencies of arriving at a meta-level theodicy (“by other means”), see Pihlström (2021), Chapter 6. 8 For some related discussion regarding pragmatist philosophy of religion in the context of the problem of evil, see again Pihlström (2013, 2014, 2020, 2021). 9 In addition to Levi’s major works on the Holocaust, especially Levi (1988, 1996), see also Levi (2005) for shorter writings on the topic. 10 Cf., however, also Cheyette (2007) for a discussion of some problematic appropriations of Levi’s work in various contexts. 11 Levi is in fact here quoting his own text from his second book, The Truce (1963). 12 On the need for a never-ending, self-critical reflection within antitheodicism itself, see further Pihlström (2021), Chapter 6.

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Index

Page numbers followed by “n” indicate notes. Achievement 2, 4, 56, 59, 65, 80–82, 84, 92, 172–173, 180, 183, 221, 239–242, 252–255, 258–259, 261, 265, 267, 272, 283; Achievement principle 80–81, 83, 242 Acknowledgement 2, 8, 152, 164, 171, 173, 176, 178, 180–181, 183–184, 191, 202, 228–229, 235, 239–243, 266, 277, 281, 311, 318 Adorno, Theodor 139, 141, 197, 206 Agency 53–54, 60–61, 67, 139, 142, 229–230, 235, 241–242, 244, 245n9; Political agency 139, 142 Alienation 23–24, 57, 110n21, 119, 192, 256 Ambivalence 3–4, 11n1, 115 Amour propre 3, 6, 81, 251, 267 Anthropology/Anthropological 3, 6, 30, 34, 36, 38, 50n17, 77–79, 82, 101, 114, 123, 126n2, 192, 194, 198, 203, 207, 209n15, 230, 241, 244n2, 270, 286 Anton Reiser 7, 76–77, 80, 87–88, 90, 92, 93n1, 101 Aquinas, Thomas 258–259, 265, 271, 278–286, 287n6–287n10 Augustine 19, 21, 26, 179, 185n11, 260, 307 Authentic/Authenticity 3, 5–6, 17–19, 21–30, 31n1, 31n3–31n4, 31n6, 88, 134, 203, 208n6; Inauthentic 6, 17–19, 22, 24–25, 28–29, 134 Authority 18, 26, 38–40, 43, 45–46, 48, 50n12, 50n17, 63, 140, 152–153, 158–160, 164, 183, 217–218, 226n4, 233, 235, 280

Autonomy 1, 8, 17, 23–25, 31n1, 31n5, 31n6, 38, 68n3, 79, 152, 154, 175, 179, 208n6, 215–217 Butler, Judith 3, 29, 103, 110n16, 179 Capitalism 48–49, 51n19, 51n20, 146 Care 1, 4, 19, 42–43, 57–63, 110n20, 148n3, 151, 154, 172, 178, 229, 239, 271, 274, 281, 283, 291, 309–310 Christian/Christianity 9–10, 144, 165n8, 176, 253–258, 261–262, 266, 270, 272, 279–282, 286, 294, 297, 299, 300n12, 300n16, 300n17, 300n18, 308, 314 Citizen/Citizenship 1, 4, 7, 10, 11n5, 20, 63, 70n25, 98, 118, 131, 134, 136, 139–140, 142, 145, 148n4, 153, 155–159, 162, 164–165, 166n12, 172, 176, 178, 180, 214, 222, 233–234, 245n5, 278, 290–295, 297–299, 300n5–300n6, 300n13, 300n18 Civil society 4, 131, 240 Community 2, 10, 21, 26, 68n1, 70n21, 114, 118, 125, 165n3, 178, 183, 233, 251, 253–254, 256, 258–259, 266–267, 270–271, 273–276, 278–281, 285–286, 292, 294, 300n13 Constitution/Constitutive 2, 6, 9, 37, 39–40, 47, 132, 161, 172, 177, 179, 229, 233, 259; Constitution of the self 6, 9 Cooperation 37–38, 40, 49, 131, 141, 145

324 Index Critical theory 4, 6–8, 11n1, 35, 78, 191–192, 194–195, 199, 201, 204, 206, 209n14, 214, 224–225, 226n1, 226n5, 230 Critique 8, 22, 37, 44, 48, 51n22, 81, 89, 110n12, 135, 146, 190–192, 194–202, 205–207, 208n1, 208n3, 208n5, 208n8, 209n10, 209n11, 214, 217–222, 308, 310, 316 Culture 18, 21, 34–38, 41, 43, 47, 49, 53, 62, 76, 78, 116, 137, 200, 229, 241, 256 Dehumanization 41–43, 46, 49, 50n13, 135 Democracy 7, 131–135, 137, 143, 145–146, 148, 148n1, 165, 196, 208n4, 208n8, 229–230, 238, 266 Dependency 79, 82–83, 90, 215–216, 229 Desire 3, 6, 9–10, 18, 37, 39–40, 54, 56–58, 60, 66, 69n9, 69n12, 76, 89, 98, 104–105, 107, 109n10, 142, 147, 184, 218, 224, 257, 270, 272–286 Development 2–3, 10, 35, 47, 79, 83, 88, 97, 113, 115, 131, 164, 172, 179, 193, 195, 197, 202, 204–206, 208n8, 209n19, 214, 216–217, 219–220, 224–225, 226n1, 236–237, 292, 312 Dewey, John 82, 217, 225 Diagnosis 7, 78, 82, 93, 131, 223 Dialectic 197, 199, 206, 261, 265 Dignity 68n3, 98, 156–157, 163, 165n8, 170, 185n10, 251, 258–259 Disrespect see Respect Distribution 66, 141, 145, 153 Domination 3, 30, 69n6, 191, 198, 215–216, 218, 244 Duty 161, 177, 184, 310 Economy 84–85, 115–116, 139, 141, 143, 145–147, 196, 208n8, 231, 238, 245n3 Egalitarian 78, 81, 98, 106, 108, 141, 146–147, 153, 155–156, 160, 162, 164 Emancipation 5, 8, 214–217, 219– 221, 223–225 Emotion 36, 42, 49, 55, 79–80, 82, 87–88, 90, 101, 132–133, 136–138, 141–147, 172, 178, 221, 239,

262–265, 270–272, 274–278, 282–283, 286, 307 Empirical 4, 78–79, 81, 131, 190, 193, 197, 200–205, 218, 223–225, 262, 305 Environment 3, 5, 7, 83, 140, 145, 151, 153–157, 159–160, 163–165, 165n2–165n3, 245n6, 256, 267, 286 Equality 20, 59, 85, 118, 140, 158, 176, 180, 184, 252–253, 256, 259, 264, 266–267, 286 Essence 24, 49; Essentialism 23, 51, 53, 59, 67, 70n22 Esteem 2, 4, 6, 9–10, 11n5, 18, 20, 26, 30, 53–55, 61–62, 65–67, 146, 151–153, 155, 164, 165n7, 172–173, 178–180, 182–185, 221, 230–231, 235, 239, 245n6, 259, 270–272, 276, 278–281, 283–287; Self-esteem 9, 62, 66, 77, 82–85, 88–89, 91–92, 140, 182, 231, 270–273, 282, 286 Ethical life (Sittlichkeit) 8, 78, 193, 195–197, 200, 204, 209n11, 238 Ethics/Ethical 6, 8, 17–19, 27, 29, 37, 40–43, 48, 63, 70n24, 78, 80, 103, 115, 118, 125, 185n3, 190, 193, 195–197, 200, 204, 208n2, 209n11, 217, 220, 238, 278, 282, 286, 305–313, 316–318 Exclusion 6, 81, 135, 182, 255 Exploitation 3, 177, 185 Externalization 77, 83–85, 87, 92–93, 93n2 Family 4, 35–36, 68n1, 90, 113, 177, 186n13, 209n16, 229–230, 238, 240–241, 257 Feminism 69n6, 184 Fichte, Johann 11n3, 47, 68n3, 252, 261–263, 265, 267 Fides 255–257, 259 Foucault, Michel 197–199, 208n1 Frankfurt, Harry 39, 57 Frankfurt School 34, 191–192, 199 Franz, Fanon 30 Fraser, Nancy 47, 49n1, 78 Freedom 7, 20, 24–25, 31n1, 68n3, 79, 114, 117, 120, 122, 158, 170, 174, 178, 180, 192, 194, 196–197, 200–206, 208n1, 208n6, 208n8, 238, 253, 262; Negative freedom

Index  325 148, 195–196, 203; Reflexive freedom 203; Social freedom 63, 244n2 Friendship 55, 66, 80, 118–119, 172, 183, 238 Gender/gendered 140, 143, 156, 176, 178–180, 183–185 German Idealism 190 Gift 7, 113–125, 125n1, 126n2, 169, 173, 175–176, 182, 185n8 God 11n3, 19, 88, 124, 176, 185n11, 253–254, 258, 261, 264–265, 273–274, 278–282, 284–287, 287n8, 294, 305, 307–310, 315–318 Goffman, Erving 96–98, 108n4, 109n5–109n6 Governance 39, 49, 137 Government 4, 132, 143–147, 158, 165n3, 259, 293 Habermas, Jürgen 192, 194, 199, 201, 204, 208n4, 209n11, 209n19, 214–215, 220, 225 Happiness 37–39, 46, 56, 60–61, 63, 67, 68n1, 69n8, 151, 262–263 Hedonism 54–57, 69n10 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich 2, 4, 8, 11n3, 22, 27, 38, 40, 51n21, 68n3, 77–78, 83, 92, 93n2, 120, 123, 192–197, 200, 202–206, 209n14, 215–217, 224, 226n1, 229–230, 234, 239, 241–244, 245n2, 245n9, 252, 259, 261, 264–265, 310, 318 Heidegger, Martin 31n4, 82, 265 Hénaff, Marcel 7, 113, 116–120, 123, 125, 126n3–126n4, 126n6 History 9, 11, 49, 63, 70n21, 114, 138, 150, 160, 162–163, 197–198, 200, 202–206, 209n19–209n20, 224, 241, 251, 253–254, 256, 266–267, 293, 299, 307–308 Hobbes, Thomas 194–196, 202, 216, 267 Honneth, Axel 1–4, 6–8, 11n4, 30, 31n1, 31n7–31n8, 34, 47, 49n2, 50n18–50n19, 53, 63, 68n3, 76–83, 85–87, 90, 92–93, 93n1–93n2, 99, 102, 110n13, 110n20, 120, 123–125, 126n6, 141, 148n6, 151–153, 164, 172, 192–207, 208n3–208n4, 208n6–208n8,

209n11–209n12, 209n14–209n15, 209n18, 209n20, 214–226, 226n1, 226n5, 228, 230–234, 238–242, 244n2, 245n3, 245n5, 245n8, 251–252, 254, 259, 261–262, 266–267, 270, 272 Horkheimer, Max 192, 197, 205–206, 209n14 Human/Humanity 2–3, 6–8, 27, 34–44, 47–49, 53, 55, 60–63, 65, 67–68, 68n1, 68n3, 69n6, 76–80, 83, 85–89, 96, 98–99, 101, 103, 105, 107–108, 109n8, 109n10, 110n18, 118, 124, 137–141, 144, 165n2–165n3, 165n8, 169, 172, 177–180, 183, 185n2, 205–206, 214–216, 220–221, 223, 225, 232, 239, 241, 243, 244n2, 251–252, 258, 260–265, 271, 273–274, 275–283, 285–286, 287n8, 305–319; Human life-form 3, 6, 11n3, 34, 37–40, 44, 48–49, 49n5, 241; Human nature 20–21, 29, 53, 55, 59–60, 62–63, 67–68, 70n27, 109n10, 215, 278–280, 286, 287n8, 311 Humiliation 88–89, 102, 151, 155–156, 159–161, 163, 165n8 Idealism 190, 195, 256 Identification 2, 78, 86, 136, 139, 170–171, 181, 183, 229, 239, 242–243, 252–253, 258, 294 Identity 7, 18, 61, 70n27, 77–80, 83–85, 87, 89, 91, 93, 99, 105, 109n9, 110n14, 114, 125, 132, 136–138, 142, 144–145, 147, 172, 179, 181, 252–255, 259, 264, 266, 270, 291–293, 298, 300n12–300n13; Identity politics 1, 7, 78, 80, 145; Group identity/Collective identity 138, 147 Ideology 4, 31n7, 132–133, 141, 180–184, 185n10, 198 Immanent critique 8, 37, 44, 47–48, 51n22, 190–192, 195, 197–198, 200–201, 205, 208n4, 218–221 Inclusion/Inclusivity 43, 62, 131, 135, 147, 154, 204, 218, 222, 240, 255, 299 Individuality 19–20, 22–23, 26, 83, 274; Individuation 79, 239; Individualism 21–22, 244n1

326 Index Inequality 3, 80, 82, 84–85, 93, 137, 165n3, 171, 278 Institution 3–5, 7–9, 35–37, 41, 43–45, 47, 50n14, 62–63, 68n3, 70n24, 76–77, 79, 118, 123–124, 131, 137–138, 141, 145–148, 150, 152, 165n3, 172, 193, 196–198, 200, 202–204, 208–209n8, 222, 224, 228–244, 244n2, 245n3–245n6, 245n8, 254–255; Institutionalization 5, 35–36, 41, 47–48, 50n10, 80, 82, 98, 110n13, 141, 145, 169, 197, 209n20, 217, 229, 231, 233, 236, 238, 245n2 Internalism 9, 251, 254–256, 259, 262, 265–267 Intersubjective/Intersubjectivity 6, 37, 40–48, 49n5, 50n10, 50n12, 50n14, 50n16, 68, 76–77, 82–83, 86, 93, 100, 118, 138–139, 146, 151–155, 196, 208n6, 214–216, 218, 221, 231, 233–234, 242, 245n4, 245n8, 263, 270, 283 Invisibility 86–87, 96–100, 102–103, 105–107, 109n8, 110n12, 110n14–110n15, 110n19–110n21, 111n22, 182–183, 186n15 Invisibilization 5, 7, 96–97, 100–108, 108n2, 110n13–110n14 Jaeggi, Rahel 23–24, 191, 208n3 James, William 225, 306, 308–311, 318, 320n6 Justice 5, 31n8, 66, 68n3, 76–77, 115, 120–121, 143, 165n9, 191, 193–197, 200, 203, 205, 209n11, 220, 223–224, 263; Injustice 84, 138, 177, 184–185, 190, 195, 206–207, 217, 220, 281 Kant, Immanuel 31n5, 108, 192, 194, 196, 202, 204, 208n4, 208n6, 216, 251, 261–263, 267, 306, 308, 311–313, 317–318 Kierkegaard, Søren 21 Labour 7, 77, 83–85, 131, 165n3, 178, 238, 295, 298, 301n32 Law 2, 35, 43, 45, 70n25, 79, 118, 154, 166n12, 171–172, 174, 176–177, 196–197, 222, 230, 233–234, 238, 252, 257, 259, 262–265, 273, 279, 293, 295, 297, 300n11, 300n16, 300n18

Legitimate/Legitimacy 8, 78, 81, 98, 134, 140, 161, 174, 193, 198, 208n4, 218–220, 223, 233, 291, 300n16, 305, 311 Levi, Primo 10, 306, 312–319, 320n9–320n11 Levinas, Emmanuel 306, 309–311, 315–316, 318 Liberal/Liberalism 34, 49, 135, 194, 196, 225 Liberty 172, 222 Life-form 38–39, 48, 50n7, 88, 241, 263; Human life-form 3, 6, 11n3, 34, 37–40, 44, 48–49, 49n5, 241 Life-world 78, 192 Locke, John 39, 192, 267 Love 4, 6, 35, 42, 45–46, 49n3, 50n12, 53–58, 60–68, 68n1, 69n6, 69n9, 69n11, 69n15, 80, 82, 84, 88, 98–100, 109n8, 118, 151–152, 154, 172–173, 178–179, 182–183, 185, 185n6, 185n10, 221, 230, 238–240, 253, 255, 257, 259–261, 270–273, 277, 281–282, 285, 287, 287n8; see also Fides; Self-love 46, 84, 88, 260–261, 273, 287, 287n8 Marginalized 135, 138, 140, 218 Markets 4, 80–82, 120, 165n3, 180, 196, 208n8, 230–231, 238, 240 Marx, Karl 49, 190, 201, 209n14 Mead, George Herbert 29, 83, 224 Mediation 3–4, 8–9, 41, 44–45, 48, 50n10, 79, 100, 106, 124, 151–156, 160, 164, 228, 231–234, 236, 242–244, 245n4, 245n8, 265 Minority 30, 80, 140, 154, 166n12 Misrecognition 1, 5, 7–8, 82, 89, 104, 110n16, 132, 140, 142, 145–147, 152–154, 156, 158–161, 164, 181, 183, 216, 230, 299, 307, 309–310, 316, 319 Modern/Modernity 4, 9, 11n3, 17–22, 26–27, 29, 35, 49, 76, 81, 84–85, 93, 114, 116, 118–119, 122–123, 125, 192, 195–197, 200–206, 209n11, 209n20, 229–230, 241, 252–253, 256, 263–267, 271, 285, 308 Morality 31n6, 63, 73, 145, 179, 196, 257, 262–263, 310 Moritz, Karl P. 76, 87–91, 101 Multiculturalism 1, 22, 140 Mutual/Mutuality 4, 28, 43, 53–55, 60–68, 77–80, 82–83, 85, 97, 116,

Index  327 118–123, 125, 133, 170, 172–172, 176, 216, 218–219, 225, 230–231, 238, 241, 243, 244–245n2, 251–253, 255, 258, 262–263, 265 Nationalism 22, 31n3, 135, 138 Naturalism 8, 214, 224–225, 276, 283, 286 Needs 2, 26–27, 30, 36–37, 40, 47, 59, 70n19, 76, 79–80, 85, 99, 145–146, 152, 178, 180, 217–218, 230, 235, 239, 241, 244n2, 256, 262, 286–287, 306, 309–311 Negation 99, 101–102, 313 Nietzsche, Friedrich 23, 191, 197, 199, 202 Non-recognition 1, 7, 101–102, 109n11, 181, 183, 186n15, 216, 230, 309, 312–313, 316, 319 Norms 2, 8, 18, 21, 35–39, 41–45, 47, 49, 50n10, 81, 90, 131, 140, 152–153, 176, 180, 182–183, 190, 193, 195, 198–199, 214, 217–222, 231, 234–235, 237–240, 242–243, 282 Normative 2–5, 7–8, 11, 22, 28, 31n3, 54, 66, 69n6, 70n22, 76–78, 81–82, 84, 86, 131, 139, 144–145, 148n1, 151–156, 160, 164, 171, 179, 190–195, 197–202, 204–207, 208n2, 208n4, 208n8, 209n20, 214, 217–224, 228, 231–232, 234–235, 240, 252; Normative expectations 2–3, 37, 80, 232, 238; Normative frameworks/Normative orders 3, 6–7, 216, 235, 237–240, 242–244, 245n6; Normative reconstruction 8, 192–194, 196, 200, 205, 240 Nozick, Robert 54, 56, 69n7 Obligation 17, 105, 114, 116–117, 120–123, 126n5, 141, 175, 178, 223–224, 231, 238, 300n12, 308, 310 Ontology/Ontological 2, 34, 40, 43–44, 48, 69n12, 77, 79, 82, 125n1, 178, 198, 207, 216, 232; Social ontology 1, 97, 194, 198, 203–204, 207, 232, 235–236, 241–242, 244n1 Oppression 88, 144, 218, 221, 307 Other, the 2, 21, 38, 41–43, 46, 48, 50n18, 80, 83, 85–87, 102–106, 108n4, 115, 125, 134, 136, 152,

172–175, 181, 183, 185, 198, 234, 260–261, 307, 310–311, 318 Pathology 131, 202, 220, 223, 279; Social pathology 1, 4, 78, 82, 93, 197, 208n8, 216, 220 Patriarchy 140, 145–147, 192 Peirce, Charles Sanders 201, 203, 225 People, the 18, 133–136, 139, 143, 198, 290 Performative 107, 251–252, 257, 259 Personhood 1–3, 34, 38–40, 43–49, 50n6–50n7, 50n14–50n17, 62, 68n3, 70n17–70n18, 70n27, 79–80, 83, 86–87, 89, 96, 98, 103, 109n6, 110n19, 119, 181, 209n15, 214, 216, 229–230, 241–243, 245n9, 253, 256, 261; Non-person 7, 44, 46–47, 49, 96–98, 100–103, 106–108, 109n5, 109n10, 254 Pluralism 8, 22, 29, 53–54, 56, 60, 131, 134–135 Polarization 5, 7, 131–132, 136–140, 144, 147, 148n1, 148n4 Political 1–2, 5–8, 11, 18, 20, 34, 45, 62–63, 67, 70n21, 70n27, 76, 108, 118, 120, 131–147, 148n1, 148n3, 148n5, 157, 180, 190, 193–194, 208n2, 214, 219, 222–225, 231, 234, 238, 245n3, 252–253, 286, 292, 295, 299, 301n21, 307 Politics 1, 7, 30, 78, 80, 133–134, 137, 140, 143, 145, 147, 217; see also Identity politics Populism 5, 7, 18, 131–148, 148n1 Power 3–4, 10, 24, 30, 35, 45, 50n10, 78–79, 100, 114, 131–135, 142–143, 148, 158–159, 165n3, 169–170, 172, 176, 179, 184–185, 191, 198, 215, 217, 231, 233, 238, 244, 259, 265, 273, 276, 278, 284, 291–292, 295, 299, 315, 318 Pragmatism 8, 10, 79, 93n2, 200–201, 204, 214, 224–225, 306, 309–313, 317, 320n7–320n8 Progress 4, 58, 140, 145, 219–220, 273 Psychoanalysis 79, 83, 89, 139, 225–226 Psychology/Psychological 7, 35–36, 39–40, 43–49, 68n1, 79, 83, 86–88, 101, 110n19, 114, 131–132, 137–139, 141–142, 147, 172, 177, 209n15, 217, 223–225, 241, 278

328 Index Race 137–138, 156, 165n3, 198, 241; Racism 30, 110n13, 135, 138, 144, 146, 148n3, 157, 166n12, 192 Rational/Rationality 68n3, 139, 152, 154, 178, 193, 199–200, 209n9, 219, 221, 231, 241, 245n3, 259, 283–284, 308; Irrational/ Irrationality 133, 142, 284 Rawls, John 34, 190, 194, 223 Raz, Joseph 57, 60–61, 69n4, 69n15, 70n15–70n16, 70n19 Reciprocal/Reciprocity 8, 79, 83, 114–118, 120–122, 169–170, 172–173, 175, 260, 262 Recognition: Axiological 38–40, 44–46, 151, 154–155; Contributive 38, 40, 44–46, 152–153, 155, 164; Deontological 38–39, 44–45, 50n8, 151, 153–155, 164; Horizontal 9, 39, 45, 50n10, 62–63, 67, 151–152, 154–155, 172, 229, 233–234, 240, 243, 245n5, 258, 280; Institutional 3–5, 8–9, 36–37, 45, 47–48, 62, 124, 228–233, 236, 238, 240–244, 244–245n2, 245n4, 245n8; Interpersonal 2, 4, 11n3, 35–37, 47, 53, 62, 118–120, 123–124, 142, 172, 183, 229, 238, 242, 244, 245n8, 261–262; Vertical 9, 45, 62–63, 67, 70n27, 151–156, 160, 164, 229, 232–234, 240–244, 245n5, 257–258, 280, 286; Recognition orders 7, 48–49, 80, 131, 138–141, 144, 146–148, 192, 231, 278–280; Self-recognition 87, 92, 260–261 Recognizability 199, 235, 237, 245 Regress 4, 219–220 Reification 46, 51n19–51n20, 110n20, 192 Religion 1, 9–10, 34, 36, 48, 65, 87–88, 90, 124, 137–138, 140, 156, 165n3, 170, 229, 251, 253–259, 261–263, 266–267, 270–273, 275–276, 293–295, 299, 300n11, 300n14, 300n16, 301n30, 305–309, 311–316, 320n8 Reproduction 36–37, 110n12, 195–196, 229, 231 Respect 1, 4, 6, 28, 35–36, 42, 45–46, 50n12, 53–55, 61–63, 65–67, 77, 80, 84–86, 90–92, 108n4, 118, 125, 145–146, 151–154, 158, 162, 172, 178, 180, 182–185, 221, 230–231,

235, 239–240, 251–252, 259, 261–262, 270–271, 287, 317; Disrespect 78–80, 87–89, 92, 96–104, 106–108, 108n4, 110n12, 110n16, 138, 141–142, 145, 147, 150, 165n1, 182; Self-respect 6–7, 9, 46, 50n17, 62, 77, 83–85, 87–88, 90–91, 93, 140, 182, 231, 270 Responsibility 21, 23–24, 175–176, 178, 183, 205, 275, 316–318 Ricœur, Paul 7, 11n2, 54, 70n20, 70n24, 113, 116, 119–123, 198, 239, 252, 260 Rights 35–36, 41–45, 50n10–50n11, 85, 89, 118, 124, 140–141, 144, 146, 152–153, 158, 171–172, 176–178, 180, 183, 191, 194, 196, 203, 209n20, 222, 226n2, 233, 237, 239–241, 271, 291, 295, 300n5–300n6, 300n19, 315–316 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 3, 6, 20–22, 26, 81, 91 Self 6–7, 9, 18–30, 31n4, 39–40, 46, 48, 55–57, 59, 62, 64, 70n20, 77, 82–84, 88, 90–92, 99–100, 104– 107, 108n2, 116–117, 121, 155, 170, 178–179, 194, 198, 206, 215–216, 234, 238, 256, 260, 262, 270–286, 312, 317–318; Relational self 53, 60, 62, 67–68; Selfconception/Self-definition 35, 108, 143; Self-confidence 9, 62, 77, 79–80, 82, 85, 89, 140, 216, 270; Self-consciousness 83, 93n2, 241, 262, 264; Self-determination/ Self-governance 39, 196, 235; Self-esteem see Esteem; Selfinterpretation 23; Self-love see Love; Self-realization 17, 25, 68n3, 78, 85, 208n6, 216, 220, 223, 270; Self-recognition see Recognition; Self-relation 5, 7, 9, 30, 47, 76–77, 79, 89, 92, 230, 242, 270, 285; Self-respect see Respect; Selfunderstanding 27–29, 78–79, 142, 201, 239 Sennett, Richard 20, 77, 81, 83–86, 91–92 Sexual/Sexuality 36, 80, 140, 145, 156, 169–170, 173–177, 179–180, 184, 185n11; Sexism 144, 146; Sexual harassment 168–171, 173–175 Sittlichkeit see Ethical life

Index  329 Slave/Slavery 8, 41–43, 46, 77, 150, 157, 159–163, 166n13, 177, 226n2, 253, 290–291, 293, 295, 299, 301n32 Smith, Adam 27–28, 100, 109n7, 109n10 Social philosophy 4, 34, 48–49, 76, 78, 141, 223 Social practice 3–5, 7, 11, 85, 115, 138, 141, 147, 196, 225, 235, 237–238, 245n2, 245n6 Socialization 20, 80, 89, 105, 215, 232 Society 4, 7, 10, 19, 22, 27, 35–40, 43–45, 47, 76–78, 80–81, 84–85, 93, 97–98, 106, 108, 109n8, 114, 116–119, 122, 126n3, 131–132, 140–142, 144–145, 153, 155–156, 160, 166n12, 172, 176–177, 179, 190–198, 200–205, 207, 209n11, 215–218, 220, 223, 229–230, 234, 240, 251–252, 254–256, 259, 266, 271–272, 276, 278, 281, 285, 291–292, 294, 297, 299, 300n15, 318 Sociology/Sociological 7, 93n2, 115, 190, 192–195, 197–198, 201–203, 205, 208n5, 209n10, 209n15, 224, 230, 278 Solidarity 68n3, 79–81, 118, 147, 173 Spirit (Hegel) 38, 195, 234, 245n9 State, the 34, 45, 70n21, 70n25, 118, 131, 147, 152–153, 157–162, 164–165, 172, 183, 228, 231, 233–234, 240, 245n3, 245n5, 245n6, 290–291, 294 Structure/Structural 9, 24, 37–39, 41, 43–44, 47–49, 55, 62, 68, 69n6, 76, 78, 82, 84, 93, 114–115, 121, 124, 131, 135–136, 139–140, 142, 144, 147, 159, 165n3, 176, 179, 182, 184–185, 204, 209n20, 221, 223, 228–231, 235, 237–238, 242, 244, 270, 274, 278, 307–308 Struggle 3, 98, 109n12, 140, 142, 144, 177, 195, 198, 205–206, 217–219, 256–257; Struggle for recognition 5, 18, 30, 81–82, 92–93, 99–100,

120, 122, 124, 147, 172, 195, 217, 230, 285 Subject/Subjectivity 7, 22–23, 26–27, 30, 37, 39, 43, 47, 53–56, 58, 60–61, 63, 67–68, 68n3, 69n6, 69n8, 69n10, 70n15, 81, 83, 87, 100, 102, 114, 152, 156, 158–159, 171–172, 176, 196, 198, 205–206, 208n6, 209n20, 215, 222, 231–234, 241–243, 245n9, 253–255, 258– 259, 263, 266, 293–295, 298–299, 311, 318; Subjectivism 58, 191, 194 Suffering 4–5, 10, 42–43, 54, 80, 89, 109n7, 144, 160, 177, 185n6, 274, 284, 305–319, 320n5, 320n7 Taylor, Charles 2, 11n3, 30, 31n4, 57, 63, 68n3, 69n14, 79, 123, 194, 201, 226n1, 239, 241 Teleology/Teleological/Telos 23, 61, 220, 224, 318 Toleration 10, 140, 143, 252, 296, 311, 313–314, 317 Trust 9, 49, 53–55, 61–63, 65–67, 70n23, 76, 79, 118, 236, 255–256, 265, 267, 275, 297; Dis–/Mistrust 139, 182–183 Universal/Universality 6, 34–38, 41, 44, 47–49, 82, 101, 114, 138–139, 141, 146, 197, 200, 206, 209n9, 239, 270, 285, 300n12, 314 Violence 119, 156, 169, 173, 175, 184–185, 206, 316 Vulnerability 18–19, 26, 29–30, 93, 98, 140, 166n12, 245n2; Invulnerability 22–23 Waldron, Jeremy 151, 155–159, 165n9, 166n12 Well-being 6, 37, 39–40, 42–43, 45–46, 50n12, 53–60, 62–68, 68n2, 69n6, 69n10, 70n17, 151, 154, 172, 177, 179, 263, 275, 300n13