Brian Wong, the Editor-in-Chief of the Oxford Political Review, speaks to Elizabeth Anderson, political theorist renowned for a diverse range of works, including her theorisation of relational egalitarianism and an institutionalist approach to epistemic justice. Elizabeth is both a highly prominent feminist and political philosopher, and an activist-author who writes on issues intersecting social justice, equality, and democracy. She is the Arthur F. Thurnau Professor and John Dewey Distinguished University Professor of Philosophy and Women’s Studies at the University of Michigan.
Elizabeth Anderson seeks to break barriers and glass ceilings – from smashing the boundaries of representation in academia for female academics, to blurring the artificially maintained divide between theory and practice (perhaps best epitomised by her methodology oriented around lived experiences and empirical practice). The stereotypical academic is, I suppose, slightly aloof and indifferent, or speaks with an air that is inaccessible to many. One thing that struck me the most about speaking with her – author of many a core reading of thousands of political theory undergraduates worldwide – is how grounded she is. Not Elizabeth (“Liz”) Anderson, whose wizened laughter rings sonorously down the line as I initiate our conversation.
We open with a discussion of what motivates Elizabeth in her work. In particular, her tendency to work within what is known as “non-ideal theory” is marked and prominent in a field where abstraction and idealisation have historically been the norm. I am curious as to whether she finds the external reading of her work as grappling with “non-ideal theorisation” fair and reflective.
Elizabeth resists the terminology of “non-ideal” and “ideal” theories – “that terminological dichotomy assumes that you can generate ideal principles in the abstract and apply them to more empirical, non-ideal contexts; that’s a total misconception.”
Her methodology is practice-dependent – she seeks to draw inspiration from how philosophers of science work, where increasingly theorists have become reflexive and conscious of the problems embedded in the metaphysics and methodology of disciplines outside philosophy itself. Philosophers of science are equipped to spot puzzles and prospects for inspiration in other disciplines outside philosophy – such as how different natural sciences raise questions about the nature of causation.
Similarly, moral and political philosophy – from Elizabeth’s perspective – is about starting with problems arising in real life situations and faced by actual people. “It’s about starting our theorisation from the world”, as we seek to articulate and diagnose the problems whilst developing normative concepts and vocabularies to account for these phenomena.
“You have to respond to lived experiences out there, as opposed to normative ideals you conjure up in abstract.”
I ask Elizabeth if this is what inspired her to develop her account of relational egalitarianism, which posits that the objective of egalitarian theories should not be about attaining strict distributive equality for the sake of it, but instead, the elimination of oppression and relational subjugation within a broadly democratic framework.
Elizabeth expresses, enthusiastically, “Absolutely.” She started off due to her observation that philosophers were seemingly talking about equality in a way that wasn’t hooking up to egalitarian activists and their real-life campaigning – particularly the problems that subjugated groups and left them deeply oppressed. On attempts by distributive egalitarians to absorb her criticisms, she wittily observes that “it is possible to describe equality in any way you’d like, but there are times when it becomes so abstract” that it doesn’t capture the concerns of the oppressed. She invites me to join her in noting the absurdity in the possibility of “you being hurt by the bare fact that there is someone who is better-off than you.”
Elizabeth adopts a pair of vividly illustrated examples to make her case. “Consider two babies that are born – one of them is happy, and the other is wildly happy. There is no good reason for the latter to be so happy, they don’t deserve it, they weren’t responsible, it’s pure luck. Luck Egalitarians would say this is a primal injustice, but what’s wrong?” She bursts into her signature, amicable laughter as she expresses incredulity at the fixation we sees in luck egalitarians.
My pushback here is that disparities could presumably be said to be inherently bad because they result from arbitrary and non-justifiable factors – factors that we could not invoke in an ideal justificatory setting, precisely because we are not responsible for the birth lottery that molds our characteristics. I also flag preemptively that the worry of leveling down is overblown – luck egalitarians could be pluralist enough to accept that we shouldn’t deprive the happier baby of their joy and natural advantage.
Elizabeth remains unmoved – “why should this disparity be considered an injury? We only compensate for injury, and it’s hard to see where the injury takes place when someone is hypothetically more talented than you.” She draws further upon her personal experiences – “I’m happy that there are brilliant scientists in the world, which I’m not, but they have the abilities to discover new medical cures and are clearly very talented people. This way, everyone benefits from being helped by their excellence.” Elizabeth’s response here comes across as distinctly Rawlsian, reminiscent perhaps the most of his justification for his Difference Principle in Political Liberalism concerning stability and lifting everyone up concurrently.
As someone with weakly luck egalitarian intuitions, I make a few pushbacks against Elizabeth’s relational egalitarianism. The first is that luck egalitarians could presume emancipate and expand the scope of what is to be equalised in order to accommodate relational egalitarian insights. For instance, one particular approach is to characterise relational parity as a form of advantage under Cohen’s luck egalitarian framework, and subsume it as a weighty form of good into a distributive paradigm.
Elizabeth responds to this indirectly, through examining a particular example. Her broad claim is that the main deficiency in distributive frameworks isn’t so much whether relational goods could be subsumed into them, but the underlying obsession with luck that she finds implausible. “When structures are stomping over you, it isn’t the accident of birth that leads to them that you’d take issue with; it’s instead the fact that other people are oppressing and stigmatising you.” She then launches into the case of abortion.
“The pro-life movement seems to have fabricated a stigmatising narrative to justify undue restrictions on women’s own bodies. Just because women want to make choices does not mean that they deserve the shaming and mischaracterisation by anti-abortion movements.”
Contrary to stereotype, most women who seek abortions are mothers. Mothers typically seek abortions because there are only so many kids they can take care of. Patriarchy blames women for choosing sex and insists that they “take responsibility for the consequences of their choice”—a rationale for women’s inequality echoed by luck egalitarians, who also allow that unequal outcomes caused by voluntary choices are legitimate. But anti-abortion activists don’t recommend that mothers refuse to have sex with their husbands if they want to avoid the risk of having more children than they can take care of. To narrate the abortion debate through language of responsibility is to reproduce what the patriarchy enjoys – male control of women’s bodies and sexuality. That women make the ‘choices’ that lead to their experiences should not disqualify them from having control over their bodies. Thus Elizabeth finds the presence of luck an unnecessary condition for egalitarianism-centred compensation – in many ways, her example here echoes her working mother example developed in the 1999 article on relational egalitarianism.
My second pushback concerns the prospects of a pluralist egalitarian approach, such as the ones championed by Lippert-Rasmussen (2015) and Elford (2017). Elizabeth is expressively open towards the prospects of a framework that acknowledges both luck and relational egalitarian strands – she notes that the relational view of equality takes seriously the critique of social hierarchies and hierarchal relations. That said, Elizabeth is adamant that distributive concerns can be reduced into relational equality – the asymmetric distribution of political and economic resources limits the ability of individuals to partake in the political process as equals. Here Elizabeth cites Rawls in noting that one of his primary motivations for the Difference Principle is the worry that excessive inequality would undermine democracy – by enabling the rich and powerful to call all the shots.
Elizabeth has the unique talent of synthesising historical political thought and her contemporary work – this is perhaps best epitomised by her drawing upon Rousseau in grounding her Rawlsian outlook: “Rousseau, like Rawls, is concerned about wealth inequalities that enable a small group of individuals to capture the state”, disrupting or distorting the represented will and transforming the body politic into a personalistic, individualistic polity. Elizabeth is less interested about the technical moves and formalistic rejoinders that seek to reconcile relational and luck egalitarianism – she is instead interested in describing and interpreting the dangerous trends in the status quo:
“Distributive justice matters, because its absence results in social inequality; it also results from social inequality.”
There is nevertheless the worry that Elizabeth is slightly uncharitable towards distributive views that emphasise the importance of relational equality as a core component and instrument of minimising arbitrariness-induced disparities in advantage across individuals. Whilst Elizabeth aptly observes that the distributive question could be reduced into the relational, it remains plausibly unclear as to why reducing arbitrariness-induced disparities across individuals is not equally morally foundational, and thus we should opt to reduce social equality into distributive equality instead.
My final challenge of Elizabeth’s view of equality revolves around her advocacy of “democratic egalitarianism”. To what extent does her argument presume that democracy is the right political procedure, and to what extent does her framework turn on this assumption?
Elizabeth is forthcoming about her staunch defense of democracy: she sees democracy as inherently “inseparable” from egalitarianism: egalitarian societies could not exist without democracy. The paradigmatic example for this is the communist state – which imposes strict material equality in the absence of democracy.
“Material equalities never did anything for anybody under communism– they were and remain oppressed under communist systems,” which erect social hierarchies based on rank, loyalty, and ideological conformity within the Communist party.
Perhaps Elizabeth’s strident rejection of communism would face objections from the sternest of Marxists, whom she has often found herself at odds with; past criticisms of her have included the view that she is reluctant to embrace radical, systemic dismantling of economic structures that seek to incentivise individuals through disparities (see Gerald Cohen’s criticism of Rawls as being excessively instrumentalist and lenient towards inequalities, in his 1989 article), or that she is excessively uncharitable to more idealistic visions of communism that have yet to materialise due to political factors. Elizabeth rejects these criticisms, in noting that a world where individuals “must wear Mao suits” and “think the same way” are unlikely to be substantively free, even if there exists perfect distributive equality.
Our conversation shifts swiftly onto the subject of epistemic injustice and justice. What relevance does Miranda Fricker (2007)’s seminal work have towards Elizabeth’s theorisation?
Elizabeth begins with the question of testimonial justice. “We’re social beings, and we deserve to be seriously listened to, heard, and have our complaints registered as real complaints.” The crucial value of testimonial justice is the ascertaining that “we are taken seriously, rather than dismissed; that we could receive and disseminate information about what we find troubling in life”. Epistemic justice is about communicative relationships.
Discussions over social epistemology could often veer into the excessively obtuse or detached, dressed up in ornate language and terms disconnected with real life experiences. Elizabeth eschews that paradigm of communication. She chooses to ground her analysis of epistemic injustice in rape culture.
“What is rape culture?” It’s a culture where women’s testimony is systemically undermined, all for the sake of protecting the accused. There is a whole playbook of a priori ways to discredit individuals’ testimonies.”
“Some rape apologetics say that these women are only in it for the money – how come we don’t say this about any other victim of wrongdoing, whom we feel is entitled to sued somebody for their being wronged?”
Elizabeth raises the question – if we do not dismiss plaintiffs’ testimonies in general on grounds that they want compensation for their injury, why do we reserve the ground for dismissal to only women and victims of sexual assault? The “rape culture playbook”, Elizabeth observes, is a tool of the patriarchy, designed to shut out the testimonies of individuals, such as the victims in the Kavanaugh case.
“Since when is eyewitnessing something not evidence? How could that be?” Elizabeth asks, half rhetorically, half infuriatedly. “That’s patriarchy at work!”
Some have expressed worries that Elizabeth’s vision of assigning credibility to victims disproportionately distorts procedural justice. She rejects this criticism – we should not exclude or reject individuals from accessing the privileges of procedural justice; yet concurrently, against a background of formalised justice we must remember that there are social norms and background factors that do shape our understandings of who’s entitled to speak and be accepted as credible; the issue lies with the persistent distortion of these norms by patriarchal, racist, and classist assumptions.
With recent trends such as the #MeToo movement and counter-currents that seemingly conflates the need to uphold procedural justice with sweeping mischaracterisations of alleged victims, Elizabeth’s words are a refreshing take that is both balanced yet focused on delivering justice to those who are most disempowered.
Elizabeth’s article on epistemic justice emphasises the view that we must cultivate – beyond individual virtues – institutional virtues that facilitate epistemic justice. One of the core critiques of democracy as a political institution is its tendency to cultivate systematic and institutionalised differentiation in individuals’ perceived credibilities, on largely unjust grounds. Such differentiation in turn grants impunity to people in positions of power, whose words are automatically taken as truth.
Elizabeth draws upon another example of activism, citing the Black Lives Matter movement. “People have cellphones and are now taking videos; videos of police engaging in grotesque abuses of power against entirely innocent people of colour. People of colour are abused for no reason despite behaving in perfectly legal manner.” She sees the issue of police brutality as a clear manifestation of testimonial injustice, where the words and thoughts of victims are silenced as they are informed that their treatment is perfectly legal and warranted.
So what is to be done?
“When citizens accuse police officers of using unjustified force, we should grant their accusations significant credibility by default. I don’t think police departments are in the position to reliably investigate themselves. Nobody can be trusted to police themselves – it’s not just about the police force.”
Our conversation migrates to the question of truth and politics. I raise Arendt’s observation that there should perhaps be some degree of separation of ‘factual truth’ from politics, given the likelihood of the former being contaminated by lies and misrepresentation by opportunistic politicians. Arendt’s thesis is, in many ways, quasi-nihilist – she suggests that the most liberating approach in politics may be to shift away from the totalitarian tendencies of the ‘absolute truth’, in favour of what could best encapsulate the vita activa. What does Elizabeth think of this?
Elizabeth finds this thought “completely appalling”, in that “nothing is more needed than truth in today’s world.” (Some may argue that Elizabeth’s answer does not gel well with the more charitable interpretation of Arendt’s thesis as the claim that truth is empirically vulnerable to distortions)
“Democracy is invaded by liars, who are lying to undermine democracy.”
Here Elizabeth recalls an article she wrote a few years ago on the epistemology of democracy. Drawing upon literature from both sides of the ‘ideological aisle’ (a practice she is known for), Elizabeth borrows from Hayek to make the case for egalitarian democracies where millions of disagreements and disputes are best resolved through the information-transactional framework of democracy. Democracy exists to resolve an epistemic problem, to mobilise information such that states could collect, process, and infer decisions from the plurality of voices that exist in the political market.
The beauty, of course, is that with the collective pooling of voices we also see the transformation of individuals’ preferences and understandings. Once they realise that politics is not merely about them, they become more willing to recognise and understand others’ perspectives and issues.
Is the model of deliberative democracy, then, as a variant of what Elizabeth advocates here, viable?
Elizabeth is optimistic. There is of course an issue, she notes, of polarisation and misinformation, “characterised by fake news, mass shaming, and trolling”. Yet she is optimistic that people can be excellent problem-solvers, especially if they are called in to engage in actual real-world problem-solving.
She subsequently enters into an impressive recall of the specific case of Flint, Michigan, in which she recalls the specific nuances of the water crisis. “In the aftermath of the crisis, under the Emergency Management measures adopted by the local government, there was no democracy; the government appointed a technocratic manager to run the city and its financial operations, whilst radically disempowering the city council. The manager was focused on paying off bond holders and protecting capital interests, thus destroying democracy and thus the lives of many who resided in Michigan. Republicans and Democrats alike hated this, and voted to eventually end the emergency management system.”
The citizens then took over. They organised, talked to the press, communicated their findings. “This is citizens’ science at work!” Elizabeth chimes with admiration.
Does Elizabeth see this model as viable on a national level? She is more cautious yet optimistic here: she flags that national discourse in the US remains a status competition, with “everybody walking around, engaging in very dysfunctional discourse, and many aren’t caring enough about the truth. But it doesn’t have to be that way.”
Drawing reflectively upon Arendt, Elizabeth notes that the only way to make democratic discourse functional is to establish “practices, habits, and institutions such that people are reality-focussed, truth-focussed, and actually coming to grips with what is wrong with their lives.”
So where lies the future of the US, touted often as the paradigmatic example of Western democracy?
“I can tell you an optimistic story, and I can tell you a pessimistic story.”
The optimistic story is that, “We’ve seen this before in American history.” Elizabeth recites the waves of extreme paranoia about immigration, such as the anti-Chinese and anti-Japanese sentiments in the early 20th century. She believes that Trump was elected primarily on the basis of an immigration panic – which was “critical for him to win the election”. From panics about the Chinese to the Irish, however, there was “nothing new” about anti-immigrant sentiments.
“For all of its flaws and profound racism, if it’s one thing America is good at, it’s the integration of immigrants into American society, such that kids become fully American, in adopting American culture, life, and language. Every time you see anti-migrant sentiments, you’ve also seen its subsiding.”
Elizabeth’s optimism may come across as excessive in the eyes of those who find themselves on the wrong end of the incarceration states or curricula that whitewash colonial histories and atrocities. She does nevertheless draw upon an example close to home in making her point – in Southeast Michigan (where she spent a majority of her academic career; she laughs in amused reminiscence of this fact) she has witnessed generations of Muslims succeed and thrive. Thirty years ago, these immigrants would be “running tiny Kebab shops and gas stations”; thirty years later, many of their children have entered higher education, and will emerge as doctors, engineers, and managers. She is optimistic (to an extent) that the classic, triumphant story of immigration in the US will prevail, and the temporary panic will “pass and go” eventually.
On the other hand, she remarks, there is the pessimistic story.
“Americans have elected a president that is – in many ways – unprecedented in the scale of his personal corruption, flagrant immorality, and failure to be bound by even the most minimal of norms.”
What is particularly chilling, she observes, is that Trump is supported by a very powerful political party that has been caving into every demand made by the man. Even traditional institutions that backed the Republican Party have become targeted by Trump – ranging from the FBI to other security agencies. Elizabeth is wary that America’s institutions will not hold out for long, if at all. “The wreckage will be extreme, even if the Democrats win, there’s much cleaning-up to do.”
“It’s unclear if American democracy will survive this.”
We close our conversation with Elizabeth’s thoughts and advice for aspiring political theorists. She advises political theorists to “get real!”, to refrain from engaging with merely a priori theorisation.
“Talk to people in other disciplines who actually know stuff, who are empirical experts about problems that we are facing today and have historically faced! Don’t theorise about the general nature, you need to grapple with the particularities of theories! Look for problems in the real world, because that’s what makes theories worthwhile, worth listening to, and capable of making a difference to the world.”
Elizabeth comes across with an extraordinary level of ardent candour. She does not hold back in calling out injustices or unjust actors, and is equally unabashed in her condemnation of problematic social phenomena or faulty practices in academia. We engage in a post-interview conversation about Peter Singer and utilitarianism, in which she excitedly recalls the connections between a group of Puritan ministers in the 17th century and Singer’s pioneering application of utilitarianism to the sphere of practical ethics. As a scholar, she dazzles in her humble brilliance; as an activist, she inspires many with her frank and amenable demeanor. It is no wonder that she remains amongst the most popular and influential voices on equality and democracy in the contemporary era.