It has become commonplace for politically engaged individuals on both the Right and the Left to maintain an aggressive relationship with their political commitments. Politically active individuals pursue their policy preferences with the fervor of a moral crusade, denouncing rather than disagreeing with those who hold an opposing view. Losing a policy battle or an election makes them want to blow up the system. And, as Robert Talisse emphasizes, their anger burns hotter for allies whom they perceive to have betrayed them than it does for opponents.
In this exquisitely accessible, well-written book, Talisse counsels democrats to examine our “relationship with our political commitments,” own up to the dynamics that push us to extremes, and adopt what he terms the “moral stance” of citizenship (pp. 151, 3). That stance takes us beyond voting, paying taxes, or even shoveling sidewalks to confront the challenge peculiar to a polarized time: “upholding the kind of political relations appropriate among democratic citizens amid political struggles involving opponents whose views strike us as misguided, ignorant, and even repugnant” (p. 5).
This challenge of “sustaining democracy” emerges from what Talisse terms the “polarization dynamic,” which feeds a specifically (small-d) “democrat’s dilemma” (pp. 5, 151, 4; emphasis in original). The more deeply engaged we are in politics, and the more committed we are to advocating for policies that will advance justice as we define it, the more exposed we will be to “forces that systematically distort our conception of our political opposition” (p. 4). When we invest our time and energy advocating for urgent policy changes that express “our commitments about justice,” it is almost inevitable that we will begin to moralize the dispute (p. 64). We are “bound to regard our political adversaries as not merely incorrect or misinformed about politics, but politically misguided. We must see those on the other side as not only wrong, but also in the wrong” (p. 64; emphasis in original).
Democracy calls on us to participate. It also calls on us to treat our opponents with civility, which means both to give them “an equal political say” and to accept their victories as “legitimate” (p. 64). But whenever the commitments and emotions that fuel our participation also try our capacity for civility, the imperative to sustain democracy pulls us “in opposing moral directions … between the clashing imperatives of seeking justice and treating others as equal” (p. 47). Putting it simply, the more politically engaged you are, the more likely you are to be exposed to “belief polarization” (p. 13). Putting it starkly, “democratic citizenship could be self-defeating” (p. 9).
I knew I would enjoy reading this book. From the start, Talisse’s writing engaged me like a conversation with an observant friend. Yet I did not expect its argument to take hold in my daily life. Talisse’s insightful account of political debate prompted me to reflect on my attachment to the Millian exchange of reasons and to put Talissean civility in its place. Practicing that aspect of his argument deepened my appreciation for his unconventional account of reasonableness. It also heightened my skepticism toward the account of group polarization that lends urgency to his “democrat’s dilemma.”
Sustaining Democracy is unusual for partnering normative theorizing with realism. Talisse proposes a normative conception of democracy as a “moral proposal and aspiration” toward “a vision of politics as self-government among equals” (p. 10; emphasis in original). Rather than ground this normative ideal on a belief in shared humanity, or to invoke Aristotelian friendship as prerequisite to its realization as I expected, Talisse premises it on a realist account of politics. He emphasizes that “partisan hostility and conflict are inextricable from the democratic endeavor” and holds practicing self-government with “equals” to mean engaging with our “political enemies,” being “subjected to political decisions and policies [we] do not support,” and subjecting others to outcomes they fought against (pp. 98, 35).
After affirming its status as a “moral proposal and aspiration,” Talisse also identifies democracy with “the proposition that you can be forced to accede to rules that you reject,” provided you “retain your status as an equal” (p. 29). Satisfying that provision requires that there be “a kind of coercive force that’s not mere bullying” (p. 29). Talisse notes that this distinction between bullying and coercion “might strike you as puzzling. It should” (p. 29). He shores it up with “civility,” a virtue of citizenship that Talisse defines consistently with his normative realist vision (p. 33). Far from an “imperative to avoid conflict or seek appeasement,” it involves “recognizing the possibility of good-faith political disagreement,” acknowledging that our own “political commitments can be reasonably criticized,” and resisting the temptation to attribute such criticism to our opponents’ “ignorance, irrationality, and pigheadedness” (pp. 34, 55, 54, 127).
Talisse’s civility is not Mill’s deliberation. It does not involve conceding that “our commitments might be incorrect” (p. 127). It need not involve an exchange of astute arguments. Seeking to improve political relations rather than to find truth, good-faith disagreement aims not to adjudicate among different positions: we are to discover and take seriously what opponents think is wrong with our positions and arguments, regardless of how unconvincing we find theirs. We are not to temper our views by conceding that our opponent might be right; rather, we are supposed to become less dismissive of our opponents’ objections to our positions. As Talisse observes, “Even misplaced and failed objections can be instructive [insofar as they] show us the ways in which our views can be misunderstood or misconstrued” (p. 127).
Although I like to think that I am pretty good at reasoned argument (don’t we all?), I must acknowledge that I am impatient with people who trade in conspiracy theories, false analogies, and stock narratives; who refuse to let evidence modify their views; who personalize political conflict; and who prize scoring political points above policy making. Talisse considers all such individuals “reasonable” and worthy of respect, provided that they do not “advocate some form of political hierarchy of subordinates and superiors” that would withdraw any citizen’s right to vote, hold office, or “participate as political equals” in any way (p. 57). Civility requires that we acknowledge (not validate) the implausible and unpersuasive objections of our enemies and learn from them how we can be misunderstood and misrepresented.
Talisse’s “civility” helped me see the limits of modeling political exchange as I do, through a Millian frame of persuasion. By adopting that frame, I make myself the arbiter of reasonableness. I build a case to establish my preferred policies as evidence-based and thoughtful and show up those of my opponent as capricious, tradition-bound, and possibly self-serving. Without hurling stereotypes or insults, I still manage to model an us/them distinction—between the party of reason and that of unreason—that fuels polarization. I bully the opposition with the force of argument rather than insult.
Clearly, Talisse has taught me a great deal about the democratic practices that I had viewed as “responsible” and about how they betray the democratic ideal of living together as equals (p. 146). Yet I remain wary of Talisse’s “account of the threat that polarization poses to democracy” (p. 73). He grounds that threat in a foundationalist account of humans’ “social and cognitive interdependence” that is bound to exaggerate the self-defeating dynamics of mass democracy (p. 86).
Specifically, he sets up that threat by making use of empirical research on group polarization that strikes me as one-sided. Talisse distinguishes between political polarization, the distance between parties or groups on an ideological spectrum, and “belief” polarization, which he defines as the “phenomenon in which interactions among like-minded people tend to result in each person adopting more radical versions of their shared views” on matters of taste, value, or even fact (pp. 79, 83). He is more interested in the second type, which he treats as more fundamental than the first, being both a contributor to political polarization and a feature of humans’ cognitive process. As Talisse rightly observes, “Thinking is a group activity” (p. 85). Not only do people think in groups, taking both cues and information from group membership, but they also practice thinking as a mode of belonging: they align their beliefs with their group affinities and enmities (pp. 85, 88). Talisse considers thinking as a mode of belonging to pose a greater problem for democracy and to be a greater contributor to belief polarization, which he contends “is driven more by group affinity and thus affect than by information or evidence” (p. 88).
Talisse’s emphasis on the cognitive mechanisms of belief polarization follows a common trend in studies of belief (or “group”) polarization: focusing on its “intrapersonal” mechanisms and underestimating the role that modes of communication and social context play in mobilizing affect. I draw these observations from a recent review of the empirical literature by John T. Jost, Delia S. Baldassarri, and James N. Druckman (see “Social and Psychological Mechanisms of Political Polarization,” Nature Reviews Psychology, forthcoming). These authors emphasize the role of political elites in polarizing constituencies. When political elites present themselves or media portray them as bitterly opposed to one another and unwilling to compromise, constituents express higher levels of antagonism toward and distrust of the “other side.” Conversely, when the same elites are represented as cooperative and collegial, constituents in turn become more favorable toward bipartisan cooperation.
Representation matters in belief polarization. Talisse clearly wants to promote rather than erode mass democracy (p. 38). Wouldn’t he strengthen his own position by laying some responsibility for belief polarization on political elites, rather than attributing it so forcefully to a psychological tendency?
