Selasa, 24 Maret 2009

Foucault’s Discursive Subject

Foucault’s Discursive Subject

Foucault is credited with “deconstruction of the subject,” but in reality what Foucault has given us is a critique of the Cartesian subject, the intuitively-given individual subject deemed the original site of all cognitive representation and social action. Foucault’s critique is a continuation of the structuralist project of weakening the concept of agency, a critique which has contributed to the actual demolition of subjectivity since the 1980s.

In The History of Sexuality Volume 1, Foucault demonstrates that even such a basic human need as sexuality is socially constructed; there is no “pre-social” sex drive.

Sexuality must not be thought of as a kind of natural given which power tries to hold in check, or as an obscure domain which knowledge tries gradually to uncover. It is the name that can be given to a historical construct: not a furtive reality that is difficult to grasp, but a great surface network in which the stimulation of bodies, the intensification of pleasures, the incitement to discourse, the formation of special knowledges, the strengthening of controls and resistances, are linked to one another, in accordance with a few major strategies of knowledge and power. [p. 106]

Even if deep down in the human organism there is some need for food, warmth, love and sexual intercourse, psychoanalysis notwithstanding, it has been amply demonstrated that such ‘essential’ drives and needs are buried so deep beneath elastic and socially constructed interpretations, that the constructivist hypothesis is by far the more relevant as opposed to the essentialist, at least for the purposes of understanding modern society. Human beings are their own product; our essence is nothing but the need to negate and produce our own being; humanity is essentially non-essential.

If a person’s needs do not originate in an individual’s ‘inner nature’, but are socially constructed, the same is even more true of cognition, the activity of understanding the world, which is shaped by socially available discourse and objectified in books, artefacts, languages, institutions, etc., etc. This word ‘discourse’ is central to Foucault of course.

“We must not imagine a world of discourse divided between accepted discourse and excluded discourse, or between the dominant discourse and the dominated one; but as a multiplicity of discursive elements that can come into play in various strategies.” [p. 100]

Here the concept of ‘discourse’ is like that of ‘paradigm’ in that both arguments ‘for’ and ‘against’ are posed within the terms of a single all-embracing ‘language.’

“It is this distribution that we must reconstruct, with the things said and those concealed, ... the variants and different effects – according to who is speaking, his position of power, the institutional context in which he happens to be situated ...” [p. 100]

An argument cannot be criticised just in its own terms; analysis must reveal the unspoken ‘outside’ of discourse, and how discourse shapes relations of power by the implicit relations between the speaker and what is spoken. But it should be noted that ‘discourse’ is for Foucault, a social and material, rather than purely ideal or linguistic category:

“it is in discourse that power and knowledge are joined together.” [p. 100]

Such a view leaves room for agency at the margins, so to speak:

“Discourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it. ...” [p. 101]

If both a person’s needs and understanding are socially constructed, the same is even more true of agency, in which people attempt to assert themselves in the social field.

Is it possible to talk of power that is not the power of some subject? ‘Power’ is for Foucault like an Hegelian Spirit, a “ruse of history,” an almost metaphysical substance. “Power is everywhere; not because it embraces everything, but because it comes from everywhere,” and “one is always ‘inside’ power, there is no ‘escaping’ it.”

For Foucault, it is in principle impossible to oppose power, because it is only with power that power can be opposed, an observation that is possible once one has made ‘power’ into an undifferentiated metaphysical substance, detachable from the agents whose power it is. “Power comes from below; that is, there is no binary and all-encompassing opposition between rulers and ruled at the root of power relations, and serving as a general matrix. – no such duality extending from the top down and reacting on more and more limited groups to the very depths of the social body.” [p. 93]

“Where there is power, there is resistance, and yet, or rather consequently, this resistance is never in a position of exteriority in relation to power. Should it be said that one is always ‘inside’ power, there is no ‘escaping’ it, there is no absolute outside where it is concerned.” [p. 94]

Correctly warning us against mechanistic and naïve conceptions of power which would take institutions at face value, as ‘sources’ rather than ‘concentrations’ of power, he says:

The “intelligibility of the social order, must not be sought in the primary existence of a central point, in a unique source of sovereignty from which secondary and descendant forms would emanate; it is the moving substrate of force relations which, by virtue of their inequality, constantly engender states of power, but the latter are always local and unstable, and ‘Power’, ... is simply the over-all effect that emerges from all these mobilities.” [p. 93]

Interestingly, this form of structuralism, gives no more power to individuals who run great institutions than it gives to individuals who have no power in the obvious sense as “decision-makers”: all are caught up in “relationships of force.” “Major dominations are the hegemonic effects that are sustained by all these confrontations.” [p. 94]

But this is a metaphysics which is in danger of falling into nullity.

The truest actualisation of this type of relation is in the market, where the small change of commerce can be collected into vast capitals, which nevertheless remain subject to the law of capital. Foucault was writing at a time when the second great (monetarist) attempt at macro-economic control of the world economy was approaching exhaustion, and the capitalist powers were about to embark on the strategy of “microeconomic reform.” The symmetry with Foucault’s observations is remarkable.

In a capitalist economy, the whole network of power relations are generated on the basis of a single ethical relation of exchange of equivalents, the truth of which is an ethical horizon beyond which the market agents cannot see. Doubtless, a traditional society could be understood in similar terms, with power seeming to be wielded by a person occupying a position in a social structure, more properly understood as originating in the impersonal social structure, transmitted through pervasive microscopic and invisible relations of domination.

“Power relations [do not] result from the choice or decision of an individual subject; let us not look for the headquarters that presides over its rationality; [p. 94]

I think one must give to Foucault that this is a valid description of the mechanisms of power within any unitary culture, that is to say, within the ‘thick ethos’ of a society in which there is ‘no outside’ to the governing ethos, typical of which would be traditional societies, or feudal societies in which personality was almost totally absorbed in subject-position, or even within an institution such as the market or the family, which although not exhaustive is pervasive. Under such conditions, the possibilities of resistance can be described in Foucauldian terms:

“there is no single locus of great Refusal, no soul of revolt, source of all rebellions, or pure law of the revolutionary. Instead there is a plurality of resistances, each of them a special case: resistances that are possible, necessary, improbable; others that are spontaneous, savage, solitary, concerted, rampant, or violent;” [p. 96]

Consistent with the method of Archaeology of Knowledge, then, revolution requires the linking up of a multiplicity of points of resistance:

“... it is doubtless the strategic codification of these points of resistance that makes a revolution possible, somewhat similar to the way in which the state relies on the institutional integration of power relationships.” [p. 96]

The problem with this very powerful insight into the exercise of power without an apparatus of repression, is that the possibility of a discourse being subject to real critique is effectively excluded, leaving only the margins exposed:

“Discourse transmits and produces power; it reinforces it, but also undermines and exposes it, renders it fragile and makes it possible to thwart it. ... There is not, on the one side, a discourse of power, and opposite to it, another discourse that runs counter to it. Discourses are tactical elements or blocks operating in the field of force relations; there can exist different and even contradictory discourses within the same strategy; they can, on the contrary, circulate without changing their form from one strategy to another, opposing strategy.” [p. 102]

This conception expresses the aspect of modernity as ‘processes without subjects’:

“Power relations are both intentional and nonsubjective. If in fact they are intelligible, this is not because they are the effect of another instance that ‘explains’ them, but rather because they are imbued, through and through, with calculation: there is no power that is exercised without a series of aims and objectives. But this does not mean that it results from the choice or decision of an individual subject; let us not look for the headquarters that presides over its rationality; neither the caste which governs, nor the groups which control the state apparatus, nor those who make the most important economic decisions direct the entire network of power that functions in a society (and makes it function); ...” [p. 94-5]

A discourse is the linguistic or semiotic form adopted by a set of relationships taken as natural, rather than socially constructed. Thus, discourse takes on the appearance of a game, in which moves are made according to a set of rules; while moves may be to the advantage or not of an actor, the rules are a given, the game does not include the making of the rules. In this view, society resembles a mass of people playing chess, chinese chequers and drafts with each other. Not only the moves, but the aims, the needs to be fulfilled, are formed by the games they play. The concept of “discourse,” as Foucault presents it, does differ from “language games” because the games support and express relations of power and subordination, and the moves entail force and its effects are inscribed on the body. But a number of important things are left out of the picture here.

Firstly, the concept of discourse excludes the idea that there is an outside to discourse which is not socially constructed, but natural science for example has always had to wrestle with the fact that any theory, notwithstanding the fact that everyone believes in it, can fail the test of practice, and will eventually, as a result, attract opponents and undergo the famous “paradigm shift” associated with scientific revolutions; the same is true of discourses which simply fail to meet human needs, either the needs that they create or other needs. In the test of practice there is undoubtedly a significant cultural and historical moment, but there is also always a natural or extra-social moment. Unless you believe that global warming, exhaustion of energy reserves, atmospheric and ocean pollution, etc., are all myths (i.e., just discourses), these phenomena mark one limit for the Foucauldian conception of the world. In fact Nature shows itself in many ways within social relations. There are objective measures of the validity of a discourse.

Secondly, discourses can confront one another as opponents, with rival institutions and social classes harbouring explicitly hostile discourses, mobilising force against one another. In such cases no special science is needed to be aware of the conflict, but nor should science blind us to the obvious. Foucault’s insight that power may be exercised without such open contradiction, does not exclude the fact that this is a normal situation in class society. Real ethical conflicts essentially escape the Foucauldian viewpoint. ‘How should we live?’ Except insofar as this ‘should’ refers back to the discourse against which it is directed, Foucault can have no answer to this question. One discourse is as good as another.

Thirdly and finally, the conception of processes without subjects, of “intentional but nonsubjective” exercise of power does characterise an aspect of the modern condition. But in theorising this aspect of modernity we must take care to critique it, rather than reifying it by rationalising it. The inability of people to attain an effective voice in their own lives and our collective failure to achieve simple social objectives, such as the elimination of poverty and war, is testimony to the fact that lack of subjectivity is a source of social injustice today.

But what exactly would ‘subjectivity’ mean in the Foucauldian world? Or, to put it differently, is it possible to recover a notion of subjectivity which retains the essential insights that Foucault has given us?

  1. Can we recover a notion of practical knowledge of an objective world distinguishable from knowledge internal to a discourse?
  2. Can we recover a notion of a subject with human needs which are more than just an effect of discourse, or does this necessarily lead us into an indefensible ‘essentialism'?
  3. Can we recover a meaningful notion of agency, consistent with the idea of ‘discourse’ and ‘availability’ without falling into determinism or voluntarism?

We will take these issues one at a time, but before we can take a step forward, we have to let go of the Cartesian conception of the subject as a knowing, individual agent. The human psyche is a real thing just as the human body is a real thing, but neither a body nor a psyche constitute a subject. Subjectivity is a relationship, an active, human relationship, and it is only in terms of such a collaborative relationship that we can talk of practical knowledge, human needs which are more than the basest of biological inputs, and agency. We have to conceive of a subject which encompasses the agency of mortal individuals as well as discourse – understood as both really-existing practical relations of cooperation and ideal products of culture – words images, concepts, artefacts, and so on.

1. Knowledge

The epistemological problem of whether knowledge is entirely enclosed by the paradigm or discourse within which it exists is one that has received ample attention over the past century, and there is no need to recapitulate that debate here. A recent example is the question as to whether poverty exists and can be measured objectively or is on the contrary simply a construct of the setting of the ‘poverty line’ in welfare discourses. Foucault seemed on strong ground when he pointed out that the very concept of ‘sex’ is constructed from a multiplicity of pleasures, discourses, needs, and so on, and poverty researchers would do well to learn from this: both poverty and the concept of poverty are social constructs, differing in nature from one epoch or culture to the next, so if they are to be objective and socially relevant, measures of poverty must be constructed critically. It turns out in fact that poverty is subject to objective measurement (life expectancy, rates of psychiatric admissions, child abuse, imprisonment, etc.), even though such measures only present themselves as a result of a critique of the naïve/intuitive conception of poverty based exclusively on income and monetary wealth. And the line which asserts that on the contrary, the concept of poverty is simply a linguistic construct leads to profoundly reactionary conclusions.

Natural science first took up this question on its own territory with Charles Sanders Peirce’s conception of Pragmatism (1878) and Percy Bridgman’s Operationalism (1927), culminating in Thomas Kuhn’s concept of “paradigm” (1962). Ultimately however, the validity of a theory is tested on the ground of ethics, that is to say, on the domain of a whole form of life. This insight, which can be traced back to Hegel, was first formulated within the discourse of natural science by Jacques Monod, the 1965 Nobel Laureate for Biology. Critique of knowledge can find a firm ground only in ethics, and this is something that Foucault fails to provide.

How is knowledge constituted then? Knowledge is the knowledge of a subject. The Cartesian conception of the subject as a thinking ego came under attack centuries before M. Foucault came on the scene. An individual with working nervous system and sense organs, can know nothing; in addition to the nervous and sensori-motor systems with which every human individual is endowed, knowledge presupposes that the individual is participating in some collaborative activity, engaging both systems, with other people, by means of which their needs a met. Collaborative activity connects people with the entire history of humanity through languages, symbols and images, artefacts, not to mention the human bodies and sense organs shaped by many generations of such activity. The knowledge a person has makes sense to them only to the extent that it is connected with their active use of their body in meeting human needs; but closer examination shows that the specific content of that knowledge is formed not by the individual themself but by the efforts of the individual to collaborate with others using and modifying the ideal entities which mediate their collaboration. The knowing subject therefore includes not only the (socially constructed) nervous and sensori-motor systems of the individual person, but also the concept and the material products (including words and images) embodying that concept, used to recognise and make sense of sense perceptions, and the system of human relations and institutions, through which the concept is brought into relation to the person.

Let me be clear here: it is not my contention that an individual “uses” artefacts and other people in order to acquire knowledge. I am saying that the knowing subject is a specific dynamic combination of individuals, ideals and social collaboration. A “thought” unrelated to any social action or meaningful artefact (word, symbol, etc.) would be as absurd as a reflection without its object, the meaning of a nonsense word, or a nation with no citizens.

Foucault directs his fire against the naïve/intuitive Cartesian conception of knowledge, in support of an idea of knowledge constituted by discourse; discourse is understood as the unity of an ideal conceptual structure and a real set of power relations between people. However, Foucault is seen not as describing a more concrete conception of the subject, but rather as “deconstructing” the subject, leaving us the absurdity of knowledge without a subject.

On the contrary, knowledge is knowledge of some subject, some needy social agent.

2. Human Needs

As Marx said at length in the 1844 Manuscripts, “the forming of the five senses is a labour of the entire history of the world down to the present.”

“The eye has become a human eye, just as its object has become a social, human object – an object made by man for man. The senses have therefore become directly in their practice theoreticians.” [Private Property and Communism, Marx 1844]

Both human capacities and human needs have been shaped by the historical development of the social cooperation and the division of labour. A person’s needs are not found in some inner personal world, but on the contrary in the social world in which both their needs and the means of their satisfaction are produced; and not just needs, but a person’s entire identity is produced through their activity with other people. The insight that the sense organs are the product of social development, and can sense only what is socially meaningful certainly undermines the idea of a sovereign individual subject, but it does not undermine the concept of subjectivity as such. Discourse shapes the sense organs, but equally, social relations acquire their sense organs in human individuals. Human eyes and ears are the sense organs of subjects, not of individual subjects, but of social subjects, structured around a division of labour and the social production of human life.

So Foucault is right when he argues that there is no such thing as a pre-social ‘sex’ in the human organism, only a range of pleasures and stimuli, arbitrarily bunched together under a concept of sexuality which is a cultural-historical product; but it is equally evident that there can be no sexuality without those pleasures and stimuli which exist only in human bodies. It turns out that human needs are immensely malleable, more malleable than seems imaginable at first, but they remain, nevertheless, human needs.

“all the organs of his individual being [are] the appropriation of human reality. Their orientation to the object is the manifestation of the human reality, ... it is human activity and human suffering” [Private Property and Communism, Marx 1844]

3. Agency

If it be granted that human knowledge and human needs are the labour of social subjects actualised by individuals, and that knowledge and needs are irreducibly the functions of real, individual, suffering human beings, it may still be doubted that it is in any way sensible to talk about individual agency.

“Freedom is the understanding of necessity” said Hegel; an individual is free only to the extent that they can make an intelligent choice between real possibilities, rather than being governed by ‘blind necessity’. Hegel reserved real freedom for ‘world historic heroes’, like Napoleon, who directly express the World Spirit in their lives. Many who have rejected Hegel’s metaphysical conception of history would still grant that the idea of self-determination, or sovereignty, as applied to an individual is an absurdity. At the same time, most frequently when people use the word ‘subject’ they mean precisely that individual agent who is deemed, on the contrary to lack agency in any real sense of the word. So it is here surely that Foucault’s critique would seem to have the most purchase.

It is worthwhile to pause and clarify what is meant by “self-determination.” Compare the definition given by Kant in his original definition of the subject of moral philosophy and the definition of sovereignty in the law of nations:

A person is a subject whose actions can be imputed to him. ... a person is subject to no other laws than those he gives to himself, either alone or at least along with others. (Kant, The Metaphysics of Morals)

and

“sovereignty, the principle that each nation answers only to its own domestic order and is not accountable to a larger international community, save only to the extent that it has consented to do so.” (Bederman, International Law Frameworks, p. 50)

The same parallelism is found in the “recognition” paradigm of sovereignty:

“the relations of free beings to one another is a relation of reciprocal interaction throughintelligence and freedom. One cannot recognise the other if both do not mutually recognise each other.” (Fichte, Foundations of Natural Right, p. 42)

and

“an unspoken assumption in the criterion for statehood ... that other nations are prepared to treat a particular entity as a member of the family of nations.” (Bederman, International Law Frameworks, p. 54)

Thus we see that the concepts of sovereignty developed by the founders of modern moral philosophy (Kant and Fichte) align with the concepts of sovereignty still used in international law to this day. The meaning of the concept in the context of the law of nations is somewhat clearer than in the context of moral philosophy where the writers we have quoted, pioneers of bourgeois ideology, proposed the individual person as a sovereign subject. Clearly such a conception is idealistic; the individual as a sovereign subject is something that can only be imagined for a faraway future society: “... an association in which the free development of each is the condition for the free development of all.” [The Communist Manifesto, 1848] Nevertheless, this conception of self-determination can serve as a norm against which the meaning of ‘subject’ as a ‘free being’ (to use Fichte’s terminology) can be measured.

An individual sees themself in the action of others, where that action fulfils a person’s own aspirations and is the completion of the person’s own actions; people make a ‘psychic investment’ (to use James Coleman’s terminology) in other people. Thus we can see that individuals even today can exercise self-determination, that is to say ‘agency’, in and through their relationships with others. ‘Self-determination’ does not and never did imply infinite negative freedom, that is to say, to be able to determine one’s actions purely and simply without regard to the freedom of others. Rather, ‘self-determination’ implies being subject only to laws which the subject may be deemed to have set for themself, either alone or along with others like oneself. Implicit in this concept are norms of procedural fairness appropriate to subjects which recognise each other as moral equals.

Thus an individual can enjoy self-determination to the extent that they can freely invest themselves in the actions of social subjects which enjoy self-determination in these terms.

A number of issues bear on the question as to whether it is possible for individuals to enjoy self-determination through participation in social subjectivity. These include

  • the presence of ‘discursive heterogeneity’, that is, the presence of competing discourses which give individuals the opportunity to take a critical stance in relation to any given discourse before making a ‘psychic investment’ in it;
  • if we allow that companies, that is, subjects whose self-determination is directly subject to the ‘laws of economics’ can allow only qualified access to self-determination, then
  • the existence of relations of trust and solidarity between mutually independent subjects, which offer opportunities for individuals to participate in determining the conditions of their own lives, and
  • people in general have some measure of real control over the products of their own labour.

As it happens, the past couple of decades have seen the growth of social conditions in which the great mass of people are experiencing a ‘loss of agency’, as power becomes more and more concentrated in a relatively small number of great corporations, subject to the “laws of the market,” while all other forms of social collaboration are being destroyed and society atomised. This is where our attention needs to be focused. To theorise this as if subjectivity was only ever an illusion, or even, as some do, paint ‘the subject’ as an essentially oppressive entity anyway, only makes the situation worse.

What Foucault can help us with though is this: in the modern world it is no longer plausible to conceptualise agency in terms of ‘social subjects’, understood as mutually independent institutions, organisations, social movements and so on. The notions of discourse and interpellation into subject positions within a multiplicity of narratives, actually give us a better approach to the conception of subjectivity and self-determination. The kind of mechanical field presupposed in both the above quotes defining the notion of sovereignty, needs to be replaced with a field of interlocking discourses in which each effects a kind of ‘matrix transformation’ on relationships in the others. This is a complex task, but offers a way forward.

All quotes from Foucault refer to The History of Sexuality. An Introduction. Volume I. Michel Foucault, translated by Robert Hurley, Vintage Books 1990.

SEMIOTICS AND THE DECONSTRUCTION OF CONCEPTUAL LEARNING

SEMIOTICS AND THE DECONSTRUCTION OF CONCEPTUAL LEARNING

by

J. L. LEMKE

What is Postmodernism, and Why is it Saying all these Terrible Things?

Postmodernism is a loose alliance of intellectual perspectives which collectively pose a challenging critique of the most basic assumptions of the modern educational enterprise. What are these perspectives? What do they have to say that can open new doors for educational research and practice? I would first like to sketch a personal view of postmodernist discourse, and then focus on its challenges to the foundations of most modern views of abstract conceptual learning. Going beyond critique, I would like to sketch some alternative, postmodern possibilities.

Modernism, like any intellectual movement, will ultimately be defined from the viewpoint of its successors. Postmodernism is beginning this process by offering a critique, a reaction against some intellectual trends that perhaps began as early as the Renaissance, but certainly became well established by the later 19th and early 20th centuries. This is the foundational period for the discipline of psychology and for educational theory and most of the social sciences, as well as for modern literary and fine arts criticism. Postmodernism is primarily, in its origins, a philosophical critique of the assumptions built into these disciplines in their formative years. The critique is gradually being extended today into the natural sciences, the inner fortress of modernist assumptions about knowledge and reality.

From the postmodern point-of-view, modernism is defined by its belief in objective knowledge, or at least in the possibility of objective knowledge, and by its assumption that such knowledge refers directly to an objective reality which would appear in the same way to any observer. A further characteristic modernist assumption is that knowledge is a product of the activity of the individual mind, fashioning its ideas or mental schemas to correspond with this objective reality.

Postmodernism, on the other hand, argues that what we call knowledge is a special kind of story, a text or discourse that puts together words and images in ways that seem pleasing or useful to a particular culture, or even just to some relatively powerful members of that culture. It denies that we can have objective knowledge, because what we call knowledge has to be made with the linguistic and other meaning-making resources of a particular culture, and different cultures can see the world in very different ways, all of which "work" in their own terms. It argues that the belief that one particular culture's view of the world is also universally "true" was a politically convenient assumption for Europe's imperial ambitions of the past, but has no firm intellectual basis.

Many postmodernists go further and point out that just as Europeans temporarily imposed their view on other cultures by force, so within European cultures, the upper social classes, and particularly middle-aged, masculinized males have dominated the natural and social sciences (as well as politics and business), and so this would-be-universal worldview is even more narrowly just the viewpoint of one dominant social caste or subculture.

Postmodernism traces its roots to the movements of structuralism and its counter-reaction, post-structuralism, mainly in the the French-speaking intellectual community of the 1960s and 1970s. Structuralism is either the last stage of modernism or the immediate precursor of postmodernism. The great spokesman for structuralism in this period was the anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss (e.g. 1963), who argued that the patterns of human culture, from village architecture to premodern myths, had the subtle regularities of mathematical structures (not quantitative ones, but combinatorial and symmetry patterns as in algebraic group theory). He was joined in this by Jean Piaget, who saw in the developmental movement of childen toward modern concepts of space, time, matter, and quantity a construction by the child's mind of just these same sorts of regularities in the operations it performed to make sense of the world (e.g. 1970, 1971).

The structuralists were often inspired by the successes of modern linguistics, first in using meaning to analyze the seemingly mathematical regularities of the sound systems of language (e.g. Jakobson 1956, 1962), and later in Chomsky's (1957, 1965) use of transformations (the heart of quasi-mathematical structuralism) to illuminate regularities in syntactic rules. Language, culture, and thought were all to be brought at last into the modern fold of mathematically regular sciences.

By codifying the enterprise of modernism, the structuralists made it a more precise target for its critics. The critique can trace its roots, a bit mythologically, back into the Enlightenment (e.g. Giambattista Vico 1774/1968), and with some justification as far back as Friedrich Nietzsche (e.g. 1967, 1989). Those who have been posthumously enrolled in the pedigree of postmodernism include the philosophical phenomenologists (e.g. Edmund Husserl, Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Jose Ortega y Gassett) and the great apostate of modernism, Ludwig Wittgenstein (1949/1958). But the most influential, and first truly post-modern critiques were those by Michel Foucault (esp. 1969/72) and Jacques Derrida (esp. 1967/1976).

The common denominator in all these critiques of (except perhaps for those of the phenomenologists, who were recruited rather late) is the analysis of discourse. It is the focus on discourse, and language, that unites structuralists and post-structuralists, but while the structuralists sought the regularities of language, the post-structuralists pointed out how language-in-use, the discourses of philosophers and poets (and, yes, of psychologists and physicists, too), refuse to be contained within the patterns of order we try to impose on them. To the extent that our discourses are our tools, if our tools are -- the modernist would say, in horror, unreliable; the postmodernist, in exaltation, self-organizing -- then the scientific ideals of the structuralists, and of modernism generally, are a chimera, an immature self-delusion we have to grow out of.

Foucault said, in effect, that it was chimerical to imagine that historians could reconstruct a real past; historical discourse is a discourse of the present, serving present ends, making sense for us today out of the archeological traces of past human activity. Foucault undertook to write histories of discourses, including in that term not just language, but all the things people do to make sense of their worlds. He showed, to many people's pleasure, that the very objects of modernist scientific investigation, the very notions of self, nation, language, mind, sex, crime, normality were themselves specific historical constructions, the products, not the objects of human discourse and inquiry. He refocussed attention from the so-called `phenomena' science sought to investigate, to how science (read philosophy, psychology, law, common culture) produced meaningful phenomena through its discourses.

The essential step away from modernism was the new focus on meaning. How does a text mean? How does a graph or diagram tell us something? How do marks on paper (or lighted pixels on a screen) convey to us a complex conceptual meaning? A landscape is a text for a geologist. An apparatus and its readouts is a text in the same sense for a physicist. The principles, and the problems of meaning, are the same. If the meaning of any text depends on how we interpret it in relation to other texts, how can either data or explanation be fixed and stable in its own meaning, much less the basis for objective knowledge of an objective world? Why should we believe that scientific texts are not subject to the same principles of interpretation as literary texts? Why should we believe that primary data can be read from the book of nature without the same problems, or arbitrary conventions, of interpretation that beset the reading of any other sort of "book"? Why should we believe that the practical effects of technologies are legitimate warrant for the objective truth of theories, when the only links between them are yet more texts, more discourses?

Derrida was more playful in his critique, and more direct. Foucault the historian had shown, again and again, exactly how the disciplines created their objects through discourse, and created them very differently in different historical periods. Derrida was a philosopher and sought, in his disruptive readings of classic texts, to show how imperfectly any discourse makes its objects and the world they are supposed to inhabit. Whether a literary, philosophical, or scientific text, Derrida "deconstructed" their constructions of "real objects" of study or narration. He took hold of the key structuralist notion of transformation (A -> B), and showed how unstable any discursive construction of "difference" (A - B) must be. With a rather Zen-like sensibility, he focussed on the absences (B is not A) that all presences presuppose, and on the gaps that must be made to separate things we wish to construe as different. He attacked not just positivism (the naive epistemology of turn-of-the-century science, and still of most contemporary curricula), but "positivities", the notion that things are to be defined by what they are, when in fact discourse can only define something as what it is not. (All categories are based on sets of contrasting alternatives; to be of type Y means not being X or Z.)

Derrida is not widely popular among English-speaking academics -- partly, I think, because they have no patience with the essentially literary genres in which French-speaking intellectuals write philosophy. His deconstructionism, primarily a movement in literary criticism and similar disciplines, is very threatening when applied to the social sciences. It undercuts the possibility of their being positive sciences at all, of their pretensions to "objective knowledge" about the social world. But then deconstruction raises the same epistemological problems for the traditional sciences as well, without negating the usefulness of their technologies. (Once the link between theory and practice is weakened, theory cannot turn to practice for its "proof", but then by the same token practice can go on its merry way whether the metaphysical claims of theory are justified or not.)

There are two other major currents in postmodernism: phenomenology and semiotics. Phenomenology (for major figures, see above) basically chides the scientific view of human life with being too narrow, too mechanical, too little focussed on how people live and make their lives meaningful, too obsessed instead with the artificial objects made by their discourses: kinship systems, cognitive schemata, class struggles. Feminism has found phenomenological perspectives congenial for efforts to construct new discourses of the world rooted in women's experience; intellectual feminists are attracted to postmodernism because it makes it much easier to see how what men define as "the world", "the problems", "the disciplines", are just that, what some men's discourses have defined them to be. (See for example Harding 1986, Haraway 1991, Nicholson 1990.)

The phenomenological perspective does not need to be limited to conceptualizing how the world looks different to men and women; it can be used to examine how it looks different to the young and the middle-aged, to the novice and the expert, the student and the teacher, the ghetto child and the comfortable academic. We each construct our own lifeworlds, and even when we are in the same room, trying to talk to one another, we may still be worlds apart.

Semiotics, the last of the major currents within postmodernism that I will mention, is a generalization of linguistics. At its narrowest, it is merely a codification of the symbols offered us by our culture, and the formal description of how those symbols are usually combined, be they words, gestures, graphics, foods or clothes. At its most general and most powerful, it is the analysis of how we deploy our cultural resources for making sense of the world: language, depiction, action. It is the systematic uptake of Foucault's challenge: to see how we make our meaning-reality with the symbolic tools available, and how our doing so leads to changes in those tools, our use of them, and the sense we make with them. Because semiotics is the branch of postmodernism I know best, and the branch that offers, I believe, the most highly developed alternative tools for educational research and practice, I want to describe it a little more, and turn its light on the problem of abstract conceptual learning.

Social Semiotics and the Construction of Meaning

Linguistics is important because language is, par excellence, the tool most of us use to make sense of nearly everything nearly all the time. Language is a resource for making meaning. Studying how people use language (i.e. our discourse, in the narrow, linguistic sense) to make the meanings of physics, or economics, or cognitive psychology, in research, in teaching, in writing, in dialogue with colleagues and students, can reveal how these disciplines construe general and special human experience into the categories and relations that characterize their unique disciplinary perspectives (some examples: McCloskey 1985; Bazerman 1988; Lemke 1988a, 1990a, 1990b; Halliday 1988; Halliday & Martin 1993). This is linguistics focussed not on form, but on function (e.g. Halliday 1985). It has more in common with the tradition of grammar-and-rhetoric than with modern formal syntax (though there is a gradual convergence). Linguistic discourse analysis is an applied semantics, a textual semantics, with formal syntax functioning as the legs that carry the dog, but not the tail that wags it.

Some studies of discourse(s) look more closely at the grammar-semantics connection (Halliday 1988, Halliday & Martin 1993); others look more at the semantics-rhetoric connection (Lemke 1988a, 1990a, 1990b), or at the rhetoric-genre connection (McCloskey 1985; Bazerman 1988). If I write a science textbook, my editors and readers expect me to follow certain conventions of format and organization: certain sorts of information are to be included, laid out in a certain way. These are the conventions of the textbook genre. In the course of a chapter I may want to persuade my readers to accept an argument, or I may want to raise some critical questions. These are functions of my rhetoric at that particular point, what I am trying to do for (or to) the reader. If I am going to be persuasive I need to follow the conventions of logic and argumentation that my community of readers probably accept and are used to. As I write my argument, I have to express particular meanings about something. I have to choose my topic and what I want to say about it specifically. These are matters of the semantics of my text. They influence my choice of words and of conceptual relationships that I wish to express. In order to do so, in writing a particular clause of a particular sentence, I also need to bear in mind the rules of English grammar and its syntax.

Studies of discourse are inevitably embedded in studies of social and cultural conventions; they require a social linguistics more than a cognitive linguistics (though both may have their uses). It is not possible to adequately analyze how individuals make sense if you do not know what the typical discourse patterns, the typical sense-making practices, of their community are (their semantic, rhetorical, and genre conventions at least; see for example Lemke 1989). It is particularly obvious that you cannot do so when you see that all discourse analysis is founded, explicitly, or implicitly, on the principle of general intertextuality (Lemke 1985): all meaning is made against the background of other meanings already made and shared in a community.

When I write the textbook chapter, or read one like it, I make sense of it by comparing it, consciously or unconsciously, with other similar texts I have read before. I recognize that it is a textbook and not a research treatise by its genre conventions, so I expect some things from it and not others. I make sense of its content largely because I can fill in its unstated assumptions from other works I have read on the same topic. I make sense of its patterns of argumentation because they are familiar to me from elsewhere. I interpret its use of technical vocabulary based on the specialized meanings I know these words have in this specialty field. And so on.

The totemic grandfather of social linguistics and intertextual discourse analysis of this sort is Mikhail Bakhtin (1929, 1981, 1986), a figure who ranks today with Foucault (and perhaps outranks Derrida). Like Foucault, Bakhtin takes a larger view of discourse than simply language in its narrowest sense. Discourse is a mode of action, almost synonymous with meaning-making itself. The units of discoure for both of them are units of meaning, or units of human activity that make meaning (utterances), and not linguistic units per se (clauses, sentences). Their perspective is semiotic. Semiosis is the process of making meaning by deploying the resources of social systems of signs in a community. While linguistic signs (words, clauses, texts) form such a semiotic resource system, so do many nonlinguistic, or only partly linguistic modes of human action. We can make meaning with dance, gesture, and movement; with pictures, diagrams, and typefaces; with songs, meals, and clothes. Most fundamentally, we make meaning with action. Linguistics made the first breakthroughs in the study of how we make meaning by deploying semiotic resources, but the general processes, it appears, apply to all meaning-making activity.

In the sciences, we do not just talk and write. We also act in many other ways that contribute to the special meaning constructions of our disciplines (e.g. Latour 1979, 1987) whether in the laboratory, in the field, in data collection and analysis, or in the economic, social, and political dimensions of the subcultures of our disciplinary institutions. All these actions function in the same way discourses do, to make possible the meanings of the discipline, to construct the objects we say we study. To say that objects or phenomena are social, discursive, actional, semiotic constructions is not to deny their materiality. It is to emphasize that what our theories, our discourses take hold of, are objects or phenomena as meanings, i.e. as we conceive of them, speak of them, measure them. This is not so far from the scientific doctrine of operationalism, that every physical object or quantity is defined by our procedures for observing or measuring it. Semiotics tries to tell us as much as possible about how it is possible to construct such meaning-objects.

I can read a book or I can weigh it on a scale. I can treat it as a symbol to be interpreted semiotically or as a material object to interact with physically. Semiotics is a discourse that tells me how the book's writing and diagrams and language mean something. Physics is a discourse that tells me how books and springs and scale-pointers interact physically, and which enables me to read the scale and interpret it as having a meaning about the weight of the book in the context of a discourse about mass, weight, gravity, force, elasticity, etc.

Every symbol must also be a material object, and any material object is recognizable and interpretable only in relation to some system of semiotic categories. Every act of interpretation of a symbol is also a physical, physiological process as well as being a semiotic practice, an enactment of a cultural system of conventions for making meaning. The material and semiotic aspects of things and processes are complementary to one another. They describe two different systems of relationships that we can construct among objects and processes. One of these is the familiar system of material, physical, chemical, thermodynamic, ecological relations: webs of material interaction. The other is the semiotic system of relationships of meaning: similarity, difference, categorization, ordering, association, etc.

The most basic semiotic relationships are very abstract, but for many purposes one can think of them in terms of a few simple types. Paradigmatic relations are those that tell us what something might have been but isn't: a physics textbook is not a biology textbook, a textbook is not a novel, a book is not a magazine, etc. Paradigmatic relations define contrasting alternatives, meaningful differences within similarity. Syntagmatic relations tell us what parts make up some whole: words that form a single sentence, sentences that form a single paragraph, different volumes that make up a single encyclopedia. Intertextual, or indexical, relations tell us in a broader sense what goes with what: this book is relevant to interpreting that book, this situation or event is a relevant context for that one, etc. The most fundamental principle of semiotics is that meaning is possible only because not all possible combinations of things, events, contexts, are equally likely. The particular odds on various combinations describe the culture of our community: our expectations and our patterns of behavior, including how we interpret meanings and how we interact with our environment.

A postmodern semiotic constructivism such as I have just described (for a fuller account, see Lemke in press) is itself, of course, just another discourse. You can get used to it, use it, enjoy it. Or find another that works better for your purposes. Postmodernism reclaims for science, and philosophy, the intellectual freedom of art. It refuses the power moves of some discourse factions that insist that their discourses are the only possible ones because they are "true". Many different discourses "work". It is not even possible to say absolutely whether many of these discourses are "consistent" with each other or "incompatible". They can be construed as being either, and usually are.

Most people reared in modern positivist traditions, or their commonsense variants, find themselves viscerally upset by the idea of rejecting notions like objective truth and reality. For a long time we have been sold the belief that these notions are indispensable, not only for science, but for morality. Postmodernist sensibility regards these reactions as understandable, but a little childish. Many postmodernists are arrogant; high levels of self-confidence are necessary when disagreeing with the foundations of a large part of your own culture. But postmodernism, semiotics, or social constructivist epistemology, do not require total Faith, or even complete self-consistency (another chimera, read G”del 1962). You can continue to believe that there is an objective external reality out there somewhere, and that truth is the common quality of propositions that correctly describe it, so long as you do not use these assumptions to try to gain power over your opponents in intellectual debate. Many postmodernists believe that such assumptions actually have no other practical function. Agnostics are heartily welcome in this un-church.

The postmodern, semiotic, constructivist view talks about meaning, not about truth. It talks about how discourses define phenomena, not about how phenomena are described by discourses. It always wants to know what people do that makes sense of what we ordinarily call an object or phenomenon. It situates meaning-making practices and the systems of semiotic resources deployed in those practices in the domain of the social, the cultural. Indeed, it sees social and cultural systems exactly as systems of such practices, systems of doings, and not systems of doers per se. The doer, the notion of a human individual, is as much a meaning-construction as anything else. If it is doings, i.e. social and cultural practices, that are fundamental, then as activities these practices consist of processes and participants defined in relation to the processes. Among the types of participant constructed in our culture are ones we call human individuals, but what a human is (an organism, a social individual, an actor or agent) is not necessarily the same from one type of activity to another. We learn how to conflate them, to make them all seem the same, and indeed how to think of ourselves as being constructions of this kind (cf. Lemke 1988b, in press). Human individuals cannot be taken for granted as the starting point of either social or cognitive theories.

As an example of this consider the question of whether and in exactly what sense a student is the same person in class and out of school, in math class and in English class, in small-group work and in whole-class instruction. Of course our culture provides ways to unify these differently behaving individuals, but it takes work to do so, semiotic work. We miss an important perspective on the student if we carry this presumption of unity and consistency too far. If we assume that the student has the same characteristics, the same ability, the same intelligence, even the same personality or interests, in all these different settings and situations, we may be overdoing it. And if we assign a grade to a student, instead of to an event or a performance, what does it really mean, if the student wasn't the same person in each different situation on which we are basing the single grade?

Semiotic Perspectives on Learning and Abstraction

The dominant theory of learning that guides educational practice in our society says that what people need to learn are "abstract concepts," which they can then apply to a wide variety of specific situations. Nearly everyone is convinced that conceptual learning is the most powerful form of learning, and the only problem is how to get more people to be able to successfully learn abstract concepts. The criterion for having learned an abstract concept is being able to apply it in new, unfamiliar situations. The way to teach abstract concepts is to demonstrate how they apply to several different situations until the student "catches on" or generalizes and "gets" the concept at an abstract level. The student will then be able to use the concept wherever it is relevant. -- Do you believe this fairy tale?

What happens in practice? A very, very small percentage of students seem to be "able" to learn abstract concepts in the sense described. If we accept fairly weak criteria of conceptual mastery, say the ability to apply the concept in situations not too different from the ones in which it was taught, but are rigorous about mastery at this level, a reasonable estimator of success across the student population would be the numbers of students who get top grades in courses like algebra or physics. Even most of these students, however, or their counterparts in other disciplines, would not meet the standard of being able to apply the concept `wherever it is relevant'.

Applying the older theory, we could say that either there is something wrong with the students, or something wrong with the teaching (or testing) methods. But the evidence against this prescription for abstract conceptual learning for most students is so overwhelming that surely we ought to consider that there might be something fundamentally wrong with the theory? The closest that traditional educational psychology comes to this is the great "transfer of training" debate. The only conclusion I have been able to draw from all the data on both sides of this is that, in general, the more abstract the concept, and the more unfamiliar the application context or content, the less evidence there is for generalization.

A now long and distinguished tradition of dissenters (e.g. from Cole et al. 1971, Cole & Scribner 1974, to Lave 1988) have argued that higher reasoning processes are context- and content-sensitive, not context- and content-independent. People in this tradition have even wondered whether cognitive processes can be usefully described at all apart from specific social and cultural activities, or at least apart from relatively specific social and cultural strategies for action.

The strongest evidence for conceptual generalization seems to come either from low-level processes (e.g. perceptual shape recognition), where evolution may well have lent a helping hand, or from our persistent introspection which tells (a very, very few) of us that this is what we do in higher-level reasoning. But our introspection is tainted by the theory itself: we have ourselves internalized a common discourse of our academic, intellectual culture which shapes the meanings we give to our subjective experience. Perhaps neither we nor anybody else does any such thing as generalize an abstract concept. Perhaps there is no such thing as an abstract concept.

Put that way, we recognize that "abstract concepts" are not the sort of thing to which our culture assigns much of a "reality" status anyway. Do abstract concepts exist? We would probably say that, no, perhaps the phenomena they refer to, or describe, do, but the concepts themselves are just a shorthand way of talking about rather complex cognitive processes. The postmodern semiotician, of course, will see the very notion of "abstract concepts" as born of the discourse of cognitive psychology (and its predecessors), and regard what goes under that name as just a set of conventions for using particular linguistic forms (often in conjunction with nonlinguistic actions of various sorts). Some of us (myself included) question the usefulness of even the notion of cognitive conceptual processes as such, wondering what, at least in the present discussion, cognitive theories can say about human reasoning that linguistic discourse analysis does not describe more precisely and with greater economy of theoretical means (especially remembering that the data of this area of cognitive psychology are, by and large, contextualized verbal reports in the first place; see Thibault 1986; Lemke 1989, 1990a; and even Geertz 1983).

In education we often proceed to teach something by first `breaking it down into simple parts or steps' then teaching the steps and expecting students to be able to perform the whole. In the teaching of skills (famously, bicycle riding), it is well known that this is not effective, but in the teaching of most academic intellectual skills it is still routinely adhered to. Constructivism points out that this sort of reductive analysis into parts is only possible as a post-hoc activity. It is only after we have mastered the whole that we can understand how it can be artificially divided into parts. The parts are not `natural', they are not there as a given prior reality. The parts are constructed by local conventions that depend on a prior facility with the whole. You cannot learn wholes through their parts. And the reason is that they don't have these parts! What you can do is learn how wholes are conventionally analyzed into parts, learning what precise kinds of part-whole relationships need to be constructed.

In academic education we also assume that students can learn abstract principles by induction from examples and by descriptions of abstract properties and relations. But just as skills do not necessarily have specific "parts" apart from how we choose to analyze them into these parts, so also an abstract principle is not necessarily visible in its "examples" until we learn how these examples are conventionally construed as instances of the same general principle. It is not necessarily true that the principle is "there" in the examples to be seen by anyone. Many students don't see these imaginary properties of examples even when teachers try their best to point them out.

In a classroom episode I analyzed a few years ago (Lemke 1990: 144-148), students could not "see" a wave moving on a long coiled spring in the way the teacher did, despite the teacher repeatedly demonstrating it right in front of them. They had to learn to "see" it in a new way, mediated by special technical distinctions named by specific terminology. They had to learn to use language, in conjunction with vision and motor action, to reinterpret experience in a new way, to "see" something that for the teacher was simply "there" in front of them.

For the purposes of learning and social behavior, we do not simply "see" photons registering on our retinas; we "see" meaningful patterns created by the higher centers of our brains according to the habits and conventions of our culture. The way in which these patterns are constructed is still somewhat mysterious in neurological terms (see Edelman 1992), but the social evidence for the process clearly shows the role of language and other systems of symbols. Learning to use a semantic distinction, such as that between "longitudinal" and "transverse" wave, or that between "motion of the medium" and "motion of the disturbance," as part of language is an integral part of learning to make and use the conceptual distinction.

We expect students to `catch on', to formulate abstract generalizations that will then apply to new and unfamiliar examples. We expect that they will `transfer' the abstract principle to new settings. But why? Mainly because our own cultural traditions, from Platonism to positivism, assume that the situations in which the principle applies really are "the same" in some respect that we can learn to recognize.

But for the postmodern constructivist there are no inherent similarities except the ones that a culture, a community constructs as meaningful, as significant against the background of an infinite number of possible categorizations, and constructs always, again, post hoc, i.e. after each instance is encountered. What our semiotic practices, such as the use of semantic distinctions coded in language, do is to enable us to fit instances into prior categories, or to create categories to encompass known sets of instances. We must invent a way to fit each new type of instance into an existing category, and insofar as the category is defined by the practices that assign its members, we actually change the category (i.e. add new categorization practices) for each new type of member.

This can only be done post hoc. Only instances that we already know how to type as members of a category will accomodate `transfer'; genuinely non-trivial new instances cannot be automatically typed because they do not already have the categorially critical features -- those features must be constructed for them. They do not automatically `fit' the category; they must be fitted into it. That requires work, social work. It cannot be done by an individual, because it must be done by the conventions of a community. It is ultimately as much or more a social than a `cognitive' process.

As an example, consider one of the most widely generalized concepts of natural science, "energy". The history of science shows clearly that each new `form' of energy (sound, heat, light, etc.) had to be defined in just such a way that it could be assimilated to the existing concept of energy. In fact, as each new form of energy was added, the concept itself, insofar as its meaning can be described as the sum total of all its possible uses or operational definitions, changed. The concept also changed insofar as it is defined by the set of operations for applying it to various phenomena.

No one can be expected to `generalize' from a notion of kinetic energy to the concept of potential energy, or to be able to anticipate the proper definitions of various forms of nuclear energy from a knowledge of heat energy or electromagnetic energy. What do all the forms of `energy' have in common? not even how they are measured, not even their `operational definitions'. You have to learn to call them all "energy" and learn that what this means is that, properly defined or measured, they can all play the same role in particular calculations or arguments, all fill the same slot in particular theoretical discussions. Our community has developed conventions for fitting each variation on the theme of energy into a common semiotic pattern (i.e. a general set of statements, whether linguistic, mathematical or graphical). That development has been the work of centuries. It can be recapitulated, but it would be foolish to imagine that it can be anticipated by individuals because it is somehow `there' in nature to be seen. In fact, you have to be carefully taught how to look to see `it' (i.e. to construct it) or how to `show' it to (construct it for) others, or even how to argue that others should accept what you show as evidence for what you claim.

The implications for education of this reconceptualization of what abstract concepts are is radical and profound. In this model generalizations are culture-specific: of all the possible similarities of two events, two moving springs, two "systems with energy", our culture has historically opted to pay attention to just certain ones, which it has evolved methods (semiotic methods: linguistic, experimental, graphical, mathematical) for constructing. Even if you believe that the similarities are "there" in the sense that it just wouldn't work for practical purposes (whose purposes? how practical?) to construct ANY old similarity, there are still an awful lot of possible similarities that CAN be constructed between two events or two systems in nature. Learning our culture means learning which ones we do construct, how we construct them, and what good they are for our practical purposes.

But if these particular similarities are not "obvious" ones, if we have to learn how to "see" (i.e. construct) them, then the process of learning "an abstract principle" or "an abstract concept" or generalization is really the process of learning how to construct specific sorts of similarities among specific classes of instances. In terms of classical logic this means that categories are learned "extensionally" by learning what their members are and why they are members, rather than "intensionally" by learning a set of features which are common to all members of the set. Those "same" features have to be constructed DIFFERENTLY for different members of the set. We probably do this by stages or degrees, first learning how to "see" some sorts of phenomena as "waves", then how to see other sorts as being similar, then how to see still other sorts, etc.

When we come to a new and unfamiliar class of phenomena, we can propose that these too are waves, but it is ultimately a matter of social consensus whether our proposal is adopted or not (for whatever reasons). If history has already made this decision for us, and the criteria of the culture for validating that decision leave no leeway for reconsideration, there is really no way to expect us, the students, to second-guess this history. We just have to be told. We have to be let in on one more set of specific procedures for how to make this new class of examples look like the others, how to construct similarities between it and other classes of examples.

Perhaps those of us, a small minority, who are positioned within our culture in such a way as to have acquired habits for guessing (or reasoning) that are most similar to those of the people who made these determinations historically (sc. upper-middle class, masculinized, middle-aged Northern European males), we are more likely to guess "right", i.e. to decide as our forbears did. This does not make us more intelligent or more able at abstract thinking. It only signals that we have been cut from the same cloth. (Such habits are largely unconscious, and the product of experiences in all aspects of our lives, not just school experiences. For a theory of them as embodied dispositions, see Bourdieu 1990; for gender and class differences in how children and students make meanings with language in interactions with mothers and with teachers see Hasan 1986, 1990, 1992 on semantic orientations.)

Another important implication of this reconsideration of the nature of abstract conceptual learning is that the value of studying something "similar" to our ultimate object of interest is called seriously into question. In academic learning we have acquired the habit of teaching by simulations and simulacra, rather than by giving our students first-hand experience of "the real thing".

In science education, for example, we expose students to science textbooks instead of, say, to scientific text; to science teachers instead of to scientists; to school laboratories instead of to scientific and technological workplaces. Simplified equipment, simplified procedures and processes, whether intellectual, conceptual, or manual will not suffice. They may have a function as adjuncts to learning, once students have already participated in the actual social practices being taught, but we cannot expect them to function, as they do now, as substitutes for such direct participation. It is only after we have learned how, say, science and technology operate in our communities in real laboratories and workplaces that we can intelligently participate in the construction of correspondences and similarities between what happens there and what happens in science classrooms or school laboratories.

Curriculum designers (rarely teachers, and almost never students) are typically people who have already learned how to construct these conventional similarities between textbook language and the working language of a discipline, between classroom demonstrations and actual phenomena or working professional procedures, between teachers of a subject and those who practice it outside of schools. They can do this because, hopefully, they have actual firsthand working knowledge of professional practices outside the context of education (in the contexts of production and use). But many teachers and most students do not have such experience. Curricula which assume that they do not need it, that it is sufficient to form abstract concepts based on inherently similar textbook and classroom examples, are based on fundamental epistemological fallacies. These similarities, too, must be constructed by learned cultural procedures; they are not inherent in the instances. They are not "the same as", and they are "like" the real thing for us only AFTER we learn how to compare them TO the real thing.

Yes, humans do pattern recognition. But but we must learn to think of it not as "pattern recognition", but as pattern construction. Since we construct patterns in the context of a culture, a community, and its pervasive habits of making some kinds of meanings rather than others, we do learn to make some patterns, construct some kinds of similarities rather than others, in ways peculiar to our own community. We do this in very small steps, learning to add each new category of examples to all the others in a special new way, building up toward being able to see the similarity in all that our traditions have taught us to painstakingly construct. We do not do it in great, impossible abstract leaps. There are no guidewires of self-evident similarities to lead us only to safe landing-sites when we leap for such conclusions.

Can we learn to leap further? at least in retracing the paths made step-by-step by our cultural predecessors? (Or better think of this as a developmental recapitulation of our historical phylogeny, not driven by from the inside alone, but also by the environment with which what is inside us evolved to cooperate). Some very few of us do seem to take longer leaps and land more or less where our cultural traditions say we should. One way of understanding this is as a process of "meta-construction," in which we are guided by a learned sensitivity to the cultural habits of meaning-making that are all around us. (At least they are all around us if we are middle-class, male, etc.)

By meta-construction I do not mean what is misnamed "meta-cognition" and is really no more than self-monitoring, glorified, like self-regulation and self-discipline, by the value system of a particular, influential subculture in our society. I mean, rather, the sort of process originally envisioned (for dolphins, in fact) by Gregory Bateson (1972): that we construct patterns of patterns. Having seen how our culture constructs some kinds of similarities rather than others, according to some kinds of principles rather than others, some of us come to embody in our neurological and behavioral dispositions a successful model of these patterns, and through it we invent new similarities, on old grounds, that can be understood and accepted by others and integrated into the meaning-making practices of our community. That is, everybody thinks we must be very smart.

So, for example, when we seem to "catch on" to an abstract principle, when we guess right about how to apply a generalization to a new class of instances, we may not in fact have acquired a flexible intellectual tool at all. We may simply be following a kind of learned habit of a higher order, making what is truly just an "educated guess". When schools and teachers praise and reward those who have this knack, we are discriminating in favor of the already socially privileged, because the only way you can have this knack is by catching on to the meaning-making habits of the dominant groups in our society and its history. If we call it intelligence, and assume it is an immutable characteristic of the individual, we will never take the trouble to teach these meaning-making procedures, step-by-step, to all the others.

At some level, most members of a community do learn, though not consciously, to construct such higher-order patterns. We can tell whether something seems culturally "alien" or not (perhaps this is even the basis of the much debated "grammaticality judgments" of native speakers about language). But the pattern-of-patterns we learn to construct are those of "our culture" in the narrow sense: the subculture we live in every day. That is not the same culture for all of us in our diverse and heterogeneous society. Even so, very few of us seem to learn to use this facility at all consciously to make new patterns, or to do what we value so much (and see so little) in education: anticipate the conventional way to make a particular pattern that has evolved in the history of our culture, before you are shown how. This facility exists, but we have misused it as evidence that what we have called abstract conceptual learning is the norm. It is almost as rare as genuine intellectual creativity, and for exactly the same reasons.

Too many of us pride ourselves that we have this facility because we have, finally, eventually, and after much struggle, re-constructed after-the-fact ways of making all these similarities seem natural. Often we achieved this only years after it was taught to us by methods which assumed that we should have easily been able to catch on, to "see" the inherent similarities that were there in front of us, so evident to our teachers, who had themselves similarly struggled for years to see them. Most of us can remember blaming ourselves for not being able to "see" abstract relations that our teachers assured us were "there" and which they were confident we "should" be able to catch on to after two or three examples. Many of us perpetuate this fallacy and its painful frustrations with our own students.

Postmodernism, constructivism, and social semiotics are not here to make our lives tough. Modernism, positivism, and abstract conceptual learning theory have already done that. We deserve a break. And so do our students.

REFERENCES

Bakhtin, Mikhail. [= V.N. Voloshinov] 1929. Marxism and the Philosophy of Language. [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; 1986 edition]

-- . 1981. The Dialogic Imagination. Austin TX: University of Texas Press.

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Kamis, 19 Maret 2009

Liberal Feminism

Liberal Feminism


Liberals hold that freedom is a fundamental value, and that the just state ensures freedom for citizens. Liberal feminists share this view, and insist on freedom for women. There is disagreement among liberals about what freedom means, and thus liberal feminism takes more than one form. This entry discusses:

  • 1) classical liberal or libertarian feminism and
  • 2) egalitarian liberal feminism.

Classical liberal or libertarian feminism conceives of freedom as freedom from coercive interference. It holds that women, as well as men, have a right to such freedom due to their status as self-owners. It holds that coercive state power is justified only to the extent necessary to protect the right to freedom from coercive interference. Equity feminists are classical liberal or libertarian feminists who hold that, in societies like the United States, the only morally significant source of oppression of women is the state. They hold that feminism's political role is to bring an end to laws that limit women's liberty in particular, but also to laws that grant special privileges to women. Some equity feminists see a nonpolitical role for feminism, helping women to benefit from their freedom by developing beneficial character traits or strategies for success, or navigating among their increasing options. Other equity feminists are socially conservative and argue that, while the state should not enforce them, traditional values function as bulwarks against state power and produce independent and self-restraining citizens. Cultural libertarian feminists are classical liberal or libertarian feminists who hold that the culture of societies like the United States is patriarchal and a significant source of oppression of women. They hold that the patriarchal culture and the state are complementary systems of oppression. Cultural libertarian feminists hold that much of the oppression women suffer today is noncoercive, however, and thus should not be met with state remedies but with a nonviolent movement for feminist social change. Readers interested in classical liberal or libertarian feminism may want to skip ahead to that section now.

Egalitarian liberal feminism conceives of freedom as personal autonomy — living a life of one's own choosing — and political autonomy — being co-author of the conditions under which one lives. Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the exercise of personal autonomy depends on certain enabling conditions that are insufficiently present in women's lives, or that social arrangements often fail to respect women's personal autonomy and other elements of women's flourishing. They hold also that women's needs and interests are insufficiently reflected in the basic conditions under which they live, and that those conditions lack legitimacy because women are inadequately represented in the processes of democratic self-determination. Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that autonomy deficits like these are due to the “gender system” (Okin 1989, 89), or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions, and that the women's movement should work to identify and remedy them. As the protection and promotion of citizens' autonomy is the appropriate role of the state on the egalitarian liberal view, egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the state can and should be the women's movement's ally in protecting and promoting women's autonomy. There is disagreement among egalitarian liberal feminists, however, about the role of personal autonomy in the good life, the appropriate role of the state, and how egalitarian liberal feminism is to be justified. Readers interested in egalitarian liberal feminism may want to skip ahead to that section now.

1. Classical Liberal or Libertarian Feminism
1.1 Self-Ownership and Women's Rights

Classical liberalism or libertarianism (these terms will be used interchangeably here[1]) holds that women and men are self-owners capable of acquiring property rights over things. As such women and men, equally, have the right to freedom from coercive interference with their person and property. This right to freedom from coercive interference consists in, at least, rights to freedom of conscience and expression, freedom to control what happens to one's body, freedom of association, freedom to acquire, control and transfer property, freedom of contract, as well as the right to compensation when rights are violated. The state's role is, exclusively, to protect citizens from coercive interference by protecting their rights. Some reject even a limited state, however, holding that nongovernmental means of protecting rights are to be preferred.

Classical liberal or libertarian feminists hold that the right to freedom from coercive interference has powerful implications for women's lives. It implies that women have the right to freedom in intimate, sexual and reproductive matters. This includes sexual autonomy (the right to engage in sexual activity of one's choosing including the buying and selling of sex (Almodovar 2002; Lehrman 1997, 23), and the right to defend oneself against sexual aggression, including the use of firearms (Stevens et. al. 2002)); freedom of expression (the right to appear in, publish, and consume pornography free of censorship (McElroy 1995; Strossen 2000)); freedom of intimate association (the right to partner or enter into a private marriage contract (McElroy 1991a, 20)); and reproductive freedom (the right to use birth control, have an abortion (on the minority of pro-life libertarians see Tabarrok 2002, 157), and buy and sell bodily reproductive services as in surrogate motherhood (Lehrman 1997, 22; McElroy 2002c; Paul 2002)). Freedom from interference with person and property also means that women have the right to engage in economic activity in a free market, entering contracts, and acquiring, controlling and transferring property free of sexist state limits (Epstein 1992; Kirp, Yudolf, and Franks 1986, 204).

One way to characterize the wrong involved when states fail to recognize these rights of women is as a failure to respect women's right to be treated as men's equal, or the right to equal treatment under the law. To be sure, classical liberal feminists hold that the law should not treat women and men differently. But this is because they believe everyone has the same rights, not because they believe women have a right to be treated the same as men. This is clear when we note that, for classical liberal or libertarian feminism, equal treatment under unjust law is not justice (McElroy 1991a, 3).

Same treatment under the law does not guarantee same outcomes. Classical liberal or libertarian feminists hold that women's rights are not violated when citizens exercise their rights in ways that create unequal outcomes (Epstein 2002, 30). A woman's rights are violated only when she is interfered with coercively, that is, when there is, or is a threat of, forced loss of freedom, property or life (which does not serve as just restraint or compensation).

1.2 Equity Feminism

Equity feminism is a form of classical liberal or libertarian feminism that holds that feminism's political role is simply to ensure that everyone's, including women's, right against coercive interference is respected (Sommers 1994, 22). Wendy McElroy, an equity feminist writes: “I've always maintained that the only reason I call myself a feminist is because of [the] gov[ernment]. By which I mean, if the government (or an anarchist defense assoc[iation]) acknowledged the full equal rights of women without paternalistic protection or oppression, I would stop writing about women's issues” (McElroy 1998c).

Feminism's political role involves assuring that women's right against coercive interference by private individuals is recognized and protected by the state (for example women's right against groping on the street or rape within marriage (McElroy 1991a)), and that women's right against coercive interference by the state itself is respected. The latter means feminists should object to laws that restrict women's liberty in particular (for example laws that limit women's employment options (Taylor 1992, 228)), and laws that protect women in particular (for example laws that grant preferential treatment to women (Paul 1989)). Equity feminists suggest that this has been largely accomplished in countries like the United States. Joan Kennedy Taylor explains: feminism's “goal of equal political liberty for women has been pretty much reached in the United States” (Taylor 2001; see also Sommers 1994, 274).

1.2.1 Equity Feminism on the Oppression of Women

On the equity feminist view, the feminist slogan “the personal is political” is accurate when the state fails to recognize women's right against coercive interference, especially in women's personal lives. So, for example, in some countries husbands have legal control over their wives' persons and property. (Some equity feminists argue that the women's movement in Western countries should not hesitate to criticize countries in which this occurs (Sommers 2007).) But in countries like the United States, where the right of women against this sort of coercive interference is recognized and protected by law, equity feminists hold that “the personal is no longer political” (Lehrman 1997, 5; see also 21).

If an individual or group of individuals suffers sustained and systematic denial of their rights, on the equity feminist view, we may call them oppressed. Women were oppressed in the United States during most of its first two centuries; people of African descent were oppressed before the dismantling of Jim Crow laws. While the culture of the United States supported this denial of rights, equity feminists hold that the oppressor was the state (McElroy 1998c), which refused to recognize and protect the right of women and people of African descent to treatment as self-owners. When the state recognizes and protects this right of women and Americans of African descent, they are no longer oppressed, even if the culture disadvantages them. So, for example, in a discussion of whether Muslim women are oppressed, Cathy Young focuses on whether women's conformity with a religious tradition that subordinates them is enforced by law. If it is, then women are oppressed (Young 2006).

If women are to be described as currently oppressed in societies like the United States, on the equity feminist view, one must show that the state fails to protect women, as a group, from sustained and systematic rights violations. Some feminists have argued that violence against women is pervasive in societies like the United States so that, even though the law recognizes women's right against it, that right is insufficiently protected, and thus women endure sustained and systematic denial of their right to bodily integrity (Dworkin 1991). Equity feminists endeavor to refute this claim by showing that the prevalence of violence against women has been exaggerated. For example Rita Simon contests the claim that as many as 154 out of 1,000 women have been raped. On her accounting, the number is closer to 19 per 1,000; and “rape is less common than other violent crimes” (Simon 2002, 235). In addition, she claims, “the criminal justice system does not ignore or make light of crimes against females” (Simon 2002, 236). Katie Roiphe argues that date rape is not a significant threat to women (Roiphe 1994). Concurring with Roiphe, Cathy Young writes: “women have sex after initial reluctance for a number of reasons … fear of being beaten up by their dates is rarely reported as one of them” (Young 1992).

Women have also been said to be oppressed because their right to be treated the same as men by employers, educational institutions, and associations has been violated in a sustained and systematic way. That is, some argue, women have been regularly denied the right to equal access to opportunities because they are women. Equity feminists generally hold that no rights are violated when employers, educational institutions, public accommodations or associations discriminate against women (see section 1.5). Nonetheless, equity feminists argue that discrimination against women is not a serious problem. Diana Furchtgott-Roth and Christine Stolba argue that “complaints about systematic economic discrimination against women simply do not square with the evidence” (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 1999, xi; see also 2001). They argue that “women's wages and education levels are closing the gap with those of men” (xii). In addition, Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth claim that women have “surpassed men in education” (23; see also 23-43). Christina Hoff Sommers concurs, arguing that, rather than failing to provide girls with an education equal to that of boys, our current educational system disproportionately benefits girls (Sommers 2000, 20-23, 178).

Equity feminists argue that the differences in outcomes between women and men can be explained, not by violence against women and sex discrimination, but by differences in the preferences of women and men (Epstein 2002, 33; Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 1999, xii). “In many cases where women remain behind men, personal choices explain outcomes more readily than does overt discrimination” (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 1999, xii). To be sure, classical liberal or libertarian feminists hold that women and men are sufficiently the same that they have the “same political interests,” in particular the interest in being treated as a self-owner (McElroy 2002a, 14-15). But, for some equity feminists, biological differences between the sexes largely explain the sex segregation in the workplace and in family roles still common in countries like the United States (Epstein 2002; Lehrman 1997, 5, 31).

Other equity feminists think biological sex differences alone do not explain this phenomenon (Young 2004). Women's preferences may reflect the effects of socialization or incentives: for example women may be socialized to prefer stereotypically female roles, or the rewards associated with such roles for women may provide motivation for women to take them up. But equity feminists hold that, because women are not legally required, or actually forced in some other way, to choose traditional roles, their choices are not coerced, and thus state remedies are inappropriate. On the equity feminist view, a law prohibiting women to become surgeons is coercive because it constitutes a threat of loss of liberty or property. But if one is socialized to prefer stay-at-home motherhood, or one discovers that one prefers to stay home with children given the other real options, one may still choose to become a surgeon without risking loss of liberty or property. As Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth put it (using the word “prevents” in a very strong sense): “Nothing prevents women from choosing the surgical specialty” (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 1999, 60; my emphasis).

1.2.2 Feminism's Nonpolitical Role

While equity feminists hold that feminism's political task — securing for women the right to freedom from coercive interference — is nearly completed, some equity feminists believe that feminism has a nonpolitical role to play in women's personal lives. In its nonpolitical role, feminism can help women to develop character traits and strategies that will help them benefit from their freedom; and it can help women to navigate personally among their increasing options.

Karen Lehrman writes: “Men have typically held title to quite a few traits that women can now put to good use. In addition to ambition, assertiveness, and independence, there's also decisiveness” (Lehrman 1997, 33; see also 62). Other character traits emphasized by equity feminists include “self-confidence” (Stevens et. al. 2002, 255), being able to think and argue independently (McElroy 1998a — see Other Internet Resources), and taking responsibility for oneself (Taylor 1992, 86). Some equity feminists suggest that feminism offers individual women and men the opportunity for freedom from conformity with sex roles (Lehrman 1997, 6; Taylor 1992, 23-24).

Equity feminists recommend strategies for success for women in education and employment as alternatives to state regulation. In male dominated fields, for example, equity feminists recommend that women mentor one another, or organize supportive associations, making use of the techniques of 1960's feminism like consciousness-raising (Taylor 1992, 100-101). In What You Can Do About Sexual Harassment When You Don't Want to Call the Cops, Joan Kennedy Taylor argues that women can avoid sexual harassment or lessen its impact if they learn to diffuse conflicts with men and understand the role of sexual banter in male culture (Taylor 1999). Equity feminists also recommend that women make full use of their right to contract by turning their preferences — for example the preference for being paid and/or promoted on the basis of one's job performance and not on the basis of sexual favors — into rights through contract (Epstein 2002, 40; Taylor 1992, 169).

Some equity feminists stress that women need not give up their gender difference to benefit from their freedom (Lehrman 1997, 198). As Karen Lehrman writes, “completing the feminist revolution … primarily involves [women] completing their own personal evolutions” (35). Lehrman quotes Elizabeth Cady Stanton: “the strongest reason for giving woman a complete emancipation from all forms of bondage of custom, dependence, superstition … is the solitude and personal responsibility of her own individual life” (Lehrman 1997, 201). An important part of this individual life, on Lehrman's view, is navigating among sexual difference and sameness in the personal construction of a satisfying life.
1.2.3 Socially Conservative Equity Feminism

Some equity feminists are socially conservative (Morse 2001; Sommers 2000a). To be sure, equity feminism as described here is a form of classical liberal or libertarian feminism. As such it involves the claim that traditional values should not be imposed on citizens by the state. For example, the state should not tax citizens to support institutions that promote traditional values, nor should the criminal or civil law create incentives for adherence to such values. But some equity feminists hold that it is best when citizens voluntarily adhere to traditional values. They hold that widespread voluntary adherence to traditional values is conducive to well-being in society because traditional values make possible the reproduction of independent and “self-restraining citizens” which are “the basis of free institutions, both economic and political” (Morse 2001, 161).

Socially conservative equity feminists do not take the classical liberal or libertarian theory of the limits of state power to imply endorsement of a libertine cultural ethos. So, for example, while socially conservative equity feminists hold that the state should not force citizens to accept traditional family forms (because individuals have a right against such coercive interference), they hold that society should strongly discourage disfavored ways of life and encourage favored ones through noncoercive, nonstate means. Socially conservative equity feminists hold that when feminism strays from its political role of assuring equal rights and ventures into women's personal lives it tends to discourage in women the kinds of delayed gratification and self-sacrifice on which vital social institutions, like the family, depend (Morse 2001, 133).

To be sure, there are political conservatives who take equity feminism's claim that women and men should be treated the same by the law as a rule of thumb. Elizabeth Fox-Genovese is an example of such a political conservative (Fox-Genovese 1991; 1996). The difference between political conservatives who embrace the equity feminist account of women's equality and socially conservative equity feminists is that the former endorse the use of state power to promote traditional values while the latter do not. Also, socially conservative equity feminists hold that individuals' political rights derive from their status as self-owners (Morse 2001, 57) while political conservatives hold that citizens' political rights derive from their status as members of communities (Fox-Genovese 1991, 9). In contemporary popular political discourse it is often hard to distinguish these two, as they are in political coalition. To appeal to both libertarian and socially conservative constituencies, on occasion theorists help themselves to a bit of both traditions. For example, Jennifer Roback Morse identifies herself as a libertarian: “When the topic is the proper relationship between the individual and the state, libertarianism is pretty much the right path” (Morse 2001, 4). She tells us that “the moral and ethical system underlying the polity must be secured outside the political process itself” (124). But she also makes the unlibertarian and politically conservative recommendation that the state should intervene in personal relationships by making it “costly to divorce” (164, see also 104, 111).

1.3 Cultural Libertarian Feminism

Cultural libertarianism is a form of classical liberalism or libertarianism that is “concerned about constraints on individual freedom from government as well as from traditionalist familial, religious, and community institutions-the same civil institutions that conservatives see as necessary for ordered liberty to thrive” (Young 2007). Cultural libertarian feminism holds that these institutions reflect the patriarchal nature of society and are oppressive of women. Thus cultural libertarian feminism recognizes sources of women's oppression other than the state (Presley 2000; Johnson and Long 2005). As Frederick Johnson and Roderick Long put it, patriarchal culture and the state are “interlocking systems of oppression” (Johnson and Long 2005), both of which should be opposed by feminists. They explain: “There is nothing inconsistent or un-libertarian in holding that women's choices under patriarchal social structures can be sufficiently ‘voluntary,’ in the libertarian sense, to be entitled to immunity from coercive legislative interference, while at the same time being sufficiently ‘involuntary,’ in a broader sense, to be recognized as morally problematic and as a legitimate target of social activism” (Johnson and Long 2005).

Calling this view “anarchist feminism,” Sharon Presley writes: “What the anarchist feminists are calling for is a radical restructuring of society, both in its public and private institutions” (Presley 2000). Such feminists hold that much of the oppression women currently suffer is noncoercive, however. Laws against prostitution are coercive — the state can put a violator in jail or force her to pay a fine. But on the cultural libertarian feminist view, much of the pressure to conform to gender roles is not coercive. Noncoercive oppression can be resisted, although it is often not easy to do so. Cultural libertarian feminists hold that noncoercive oppression should not be remedied by the state. As Presley and Kinsky explain, on the cultural libertarian view, to try to remedy the noncoercive oppression of women with coercive state action “just changes the sort of oppression, not the fact” (Presley and Kinsky 1991, 78). This oppression should be opposed by a nonviolent movement for feminist social change.

Cultural libertarian feminists target the patriarchal culture by, for example, developing in individuals (especially women) the ability to be independent. This involves enabling individuals to resist authority and think for themselves (Presley 2001). Cultural libertarian feminists also recommend the development of more deeply consensual relationships and institutions (Heckert 2004 — see Other Internet Resources), relationships and institutions in which there is an equality of authority (Long 2001 — see Other Internet Resources). While some equity feminists (see section 1.2) would applaud this work, they would call it “personal,” reserving the term “political” for the work of securing for women their right against coercive interference. Equity feminist Wendy McElroy writes: “I understand that there is a cultural form of feminism and many women would still fight for improved prestige or status, and I wouldn't criticis[e] them for doing so. It just wouldn't grip me. Guess I'm a political animal after all” (McElroy 1998c). But cultural libertarian feminists consider this work to be an integral part of a larger political struggle for women's freedom.

1.4 Historical Sources

Classical liberal or libertarian feminists understand themselves as heirs to the first generation of feminist political philosophers, for example Mary Wollstonecraft, Harriet Taylor Mill, and John Stuart Mill (Taylor 1992, 25-39); the first generation of feminist political reformers in the United States, for example the abolitionist feminists Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Sarah Grimke (McElroy 2002a, 6-7); and the tradition of 19th century anarchist feminism, including figures such as Voltairine de Cleyre (McElroy 2002a, 8; Presley 2000; Presley and Sartwell 2005). Equity feminists stress the extent to which these early thinkers and activists identify women's liberation with equal respect for women's right against coercive interference (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 2001, 1-2). Cultural libertarian feminists emphasize the extent to which these thinkers and activists challenged both coercive state power and the patriarchal culture (Presley 2000; Johnson and Long 2005 — see Other Internet Resources).

Classical liberal or libertarian feminists hold that “the very arguments that rightly led to the legal reforms affecting the status of women during the 19th century militate against the demands for reform from the late 20th century women's movement” (Epstein 2002, 30). That is, they hold that the defense of equal rights and independence for women promulgated by these early feminists is incompatible with the tendency of the contemporary women's movement to call on the state to improve the lives of women.

1.5 Anti-Discrimination Law and Preferential Treatment

Classical liberal or libertarian feminism requires same treatment of women and men under the law. This means that sex discrimination by the state, for example when the state functions as an employer, is impermissible (Block 1991, 102; Epstein 2002, 34; Warnick 2003, 1608). But classical liberal or libertarian feminists oppose laws that prohibit discrimination against women by nonstate actors, for example in employment, education, public accommodations, or associations (McElroy 1991a, 22-23; Epstein 1992). They hold that the interaction of citizens should be subject to state control only to the extent necessary to protect citizens' right against coercive interference. Businesses violate citizens' right against coercive interference when they steal from their customers or employees; associations violate it when they extort their members; colleges violate it when they kidnap students. But businesses do not violate this right when they refuse to do business with women, pay women less for the same work, or create a working environment that is hostile to them because of their sex. Private educational institutions do not violate this right when they refuse to educate girls or women, offer them an inferior education, or create a learning environment that is hostile to them because of their sex. Business and professional associations do not violate this right when they refuse to admit women as members or make them feel unwelcome.

Classical liberal or libertarian feminism, as described here, clearly implies rejection of legal prohibition of private discrimination in employment, education, public accommodations, and associations. But in the literature one finds a range of views. Some categorically reject any legal protection against private discrimination (Taylor 1992, 62). Others accept basic protections such as those afforded in U.S. law by the Equal Pay Act of 1963, Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, and title IX of the Educational Amendments of 1972; but reject more robust protections, such as non-remedial affirmative action or comparable worth (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 2001, 179; see also 107-108).

Classical liberal or libertarian feminism holds that private businesses, educational institutions, and associations are free to give or withhold preferential treatment to women. But the state may not treat women preferentially because the state must treat citizens the same regardless of sex. Nor may the state require that private businesses, educational institutions, or associations treat women preferentially. This is because, on the equity feminist view, failure to treat women preferentially is not a violation of anyone's right against coercive interference. Examples of preferential treatment under the law, which classical liberal or libertarian feminists oppose, include affirmative action in employment and education (Lehrman 1997, 25), comparable worth (Paul 1989), and advantages for women in the legal treatment of custody and domestic violence (Simon 2002).

While equity feminists resist state remedies for private discrimination against women, they also hold that such discrimination is not currently a serious problem in countries like the United States (see section 1.2.1). In addition, they argue, “even where discrimination may exist, we find little, if any, evidence that expanded government intervention would serve any useful purpose” (Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 1999, xii), and speculate that freer markets would make whatever discrimination currently takes place even more rare (McElroy 2002b, 187).

1.6 Justification

Why should individuals be treated as self-owners? Much of the classical liberal or libertarian feminist literature, especially the equity feminist literature, is written for public policy and popular audiences. Thus more attention is paid to implications and policy applications than to philosophical justifications. A variety of justifications are mentioned in the literature. Kirp, Yudoff, and Franks, for example, refer to Kant's categorical imperative and claim that treating individuals as self-owners is what is meant by treating individuals as ends in themselves ((Kirp et al. 1986, 13-14). Wendy McElroy grounds her thought in the natural law tradition (McElroy 1998b). Some imply a perfectionist justification according to which the perfection of the human being requires being treated as a self-owner (Presley 2001).

By far the most common argument in the classical liberal or libertarian feminist literature is consequentialist. The argument says that the political arrangements recommended by classical liberalism or libertarianism, as compared with the alternatives, will provide women with more of what is good for them: for example safety, income and wealth, choices, and options. Liberalizing guns laws will make women safer (Stevens, et. al. 2002); legalizing prostitution and porn will improve the lives of women in those trades (Almodovar 2002; Strossen 2000) and open opportunities for others; freer markets will root out discrimination against women and stimulate the proliferation of amenities essential to working women, like daycare centers (Epstein 2002, 33; Paul 2002, 208-209; Stolba and Furchtgott-Roth 2001, 124, 180; Conway 1998). Indeed, some argue that liberalizing the market will release such an “explosion of prosperity” that women will not need help from a welfare state (Long 1997 — see Other Internet Resources).

1.7 Criticism
1.7.1 General Criticism

Classical liberalism or libertarianism holds that women and men are self-owners capable of acquiring property rights over things. In her discussion of Robert Nozick's libertarianism, Susan Okin argues that if libertarianism includes the claim that individuals have a right to control their own bodies and own the fruits of their own labor, then women — who presumably make children from resources that have been given to them freely or were bought by them — own their children (Nozick 1974; Okin 1989, 80, 81; see also Jeske 1996). But if women own their children, and everyone begins as a child, then no one owns herself (Okin 1989, 85). If classical liberal or libertarian feminists hold something like Nozick's theory of property, namely that one owns what one has made with resources justly acquired, then it would seem that classical liberal or libertarian feminism includes the claim that women own their children and therefore no one owns herself. This criticism suggests that when classical liberal or libertarian theory takes women's experience seriously (for example the experience of reproduction) it refutes itself.

Okin and others raise a second, related, concern. Classical liberalism or libertarianism holds that the only interest that places a (coercible) duty on others is the interest in being free of coercive interference. But surely, some contend, all individuals have a high priority interest in receiving care, especially as children and when disabled or infirm (Kittay 1999; Nussbaum 2000). As Susan Okin argues, a theory that ignores this interest must assume that there is a “realm of private life in which the reproductive and nurturant needs of human beings are taken care of” (Okin 1989, 75). This assumption hides the fact that it is women who typically satisfy this interest, and do so often without pay and at great sacrifice to themselves. This renders classical liberalism or libertarianism, including its feminist versions, blind to the nature of our obligations to children and others who cannot care for themselves. In addition, because women's caring labor is hidden from view, it becomes impossible to evaluate the justice of the arrangements under which the interest in receiving care is commonly satisfied.

These first two criticisms suggest that classical liberal or libertarian feminism does not pay sufficient attention to human reproduction. Jennifer Roback Morse, herself a classical liberal or libertarian feminist, concedes: “I think it is well to admit … that our inattention to family life and community responsibility has left libertarians open to the charge that we do not care very much about these matters” (Morse 2001, 28). Responses to this concern include Morse's own attempt to develop a libertarian political theory capable of taking “account of infant helplessness” (Morse 2001, 28).

Some critics take aim at the consequentialist argument offered in support of classical liberal or libertarian feminism (see section 1.6). The consequentialist argument says that the political arrangements recommended by classical liberalism or libertarianism, as compared with the alternatives, will provide women with more of what is good for them. Ashlie Warnick argues that the case can be made that some particular liberty-restricting policies harm women, and that some particular liberty-enhancing policies are good for women. But, she argues, the larger case — that all liberty-restricting policies harm women, or that a minimal state (or no state) would be better for women overall — has not been made convincingly (Warnick 2003). What's more, it's not clear that that larger case can be made because much of the support offered is speculative, for example Roderick Long's assertion that “the explosion of prosperity that a libertarian society would see, would go a long way toward providing women with an economic safety net more effective than any government welfare program” (Long 1997 — see Other Internet Resources).

1.7.2 Criticism of Equity Feminism

Equity feminism holds that feminism's political role is to ensure that everyone's, including women's, right against coercive interference is respected. It denies that women are oppressed in societies like the United States; that is, it denies that the state fails to protect women, as a group, from sustained and systematic violation of their right against coercive interference. For example, equity feminists deny that law enforcement fails adequately to protect women from rape and other coercive sexual practices (see section 1.2.1). Other feminists contest this. For example Deborah Rhode argues that rape and coercive sexual practices remain common, and thus that the state fails to adequately protect women (Rhode 1997, 120; see also Cudd 2006, 93ff). If Rhode is right, equity feminists would have to concede that women are, to some degree, oppressed.

Equity feminists claim that while state action to counter violence against women is justified, state action to counter sex discrimination by private employers is neither just nor necessary. It is not just because sex discrimination by private employers does not count as a violation of a woman's right against coercive interference (see section 1.5). It is not necessary, equity feminists claim, because such discrimination is rare (see section 1.2.1). Some contest the claim that sex discrimination by private employers is rare. These critics hold that current laws against sex discrimination fail to adequately protect women (Rhode 1997, 156; Cudd 2006, 140-142), and that other common and largely unregulated forms of discrimination — such as discrimination against parents — disparately impact women (Williams 2000; Cudd 2006, 147-152). To be sure, because equity feminists hold that state action may not be used to protect women from such discrimination, that it may be pervasive is not decisive.

Other critics take aim at the account of coercion that informs equity feminism. Equity feminists oppose laws that restrict women's choices. These they describe as coercive. But they do not oppose restrictive social conventions if they do not involve violence against women or are not enshrined in law. These, they hold, are not coercive. But surely, just as one can resist conforming with a social convention, one can choose to provoke threatened violence and one can violate a law. As Ann Cudd explains, what informs the claim that restrictive laws are coercive but restrictive social conventions are not is a moral account of what costs individuals should not have to pay, that is, what individuals are entitled to (Cudd 2006, 129). Equity feminism, as a form of classical liberal or libertarian philosophy, holds that individuals are entitled to being treated as self-owners. If this moral account of what individuals are entitled to is replaced with a different account, for example the account that says that individuals are entitled to well-being or fairness, then we get a different account of coercion. Then restrictive social norms can count as coercive (Cudd 2006, 151).

In addition, some critics of equity feminism argue that once it is recognized that patriarchal culture is oppressive, or at least that it situates women and men differently, one must reject equity feminism's categorical insistence on same treatment under the law. While different treatment can surely stigmatize and entrench stereotypes, same treatment can disadvantage women if they are not similarly situated to men (Minow 1990).

1.7.3 Criticism of Socially Conservative Equity Feminism

Socially conservative equity feminists argue that women and men should voluntarily adhere to traditional values because those values are essential to the production of citizens capable of independence and self-restraint (see section 1.2.3). But such values have been roundly criticized by feminists. For example, some argue, the traditional nuclear family celebrated by social conservatives (Morse 2001) places on women a disproportionate and disadvantaging share of the burdens of social reproduction (Okin 1989). Socially conservative equity feminists are untroubled by this disadvantage as long as it is voluntarily chosen. Some argue that the fact that a political philosophy grounded in the value of voluntary choice is compatible with traditions and institutions that disadvantage women shows that feminism should not be so grounded (Jaggar 1983, 194; Yuracko 2003, 25-26). Others embrace the value of voluntary choice for feminism, but argue that women often cannot exercise it, because sexist socialization and a homogeneous culture render them incapable of critically assessing their preferences and imagining life otherwise (Meyers 2004; Cornell 1998; Cudd 2004). Indeed, if critical thinking is necessary for freedom but corrosive of tradition, cultural conservatives must be wary of freedom. Thus, the critics claim, there is a tension within socially conservative equity feminism between equity feminism's emphasis on voluntariness and social conservatism's emphasis on tradition. (For related criticism, see Loudermilk 2004, 149-172).

1.7.4 Criticism of Cultural Libertarian Feminism

Cultural libertarian feminism holds that the traditional culture of societies like the United States is patriarchal and a morally objectionable source of oppression of women. Cultural libertarian feminism aims to dismantle this culture, and its traditional morality, through a nonviolent movement for feminist social change. It seeks to replace this culture with relationships and institutions that are more deeply voluntary, in which there is an equality of authority (see section 1.3). But some argue that classical liberalism or libertarianism must call for voluntary adherence to traditional morality because that morality is necessary for the reproduction of citizens capable of independence and self-restraint. Edward Feser writes: “[T]he same fundamental moral vision and the same sorts of arguments ultimately underlie respect for both the free society and traditional morality; and hostility toward both also has the same psychological and philosophical roots” (Feser 2001 — see Other Internet Resources). This criticism of cultural libertarian feminism stems from a larger discussion among classical liberals or libertarians concerning whether it is best allied with the cultural left or the cultural right (see also Johnson and Long 2005 — see Other Internet Resources).

2. Egalitarian Liberal Feminism

Egalitarian liberal feminism conceives of freedom as personal autonomy — living a life of one's own choosing — and political autonomy — being co-author of the conditions under which one lives. Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the exercise of personal autonomy depends on certain enabling conditions that are insufficiently present in women's lives, or that social arrangements often fail to respect women's personal autonomy and other elements of women's flourishing. They hold also that women's needs and interests are insufficiently reflected in the basic conditions under which they live, and that those conditions lack legitimacy because women are inadequately represented in the processes of democratic self-determination. Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that autonomy deficits like these are due to the “gender system” (Okin 1989, 89), or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions, and that the women's movement should work to identify and remedy them. As the protection and promotion of citizens' autonomy is the appropriate role of the state on the egalitarian liberal view, egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the state can and should be the women's movement's ally in promoting women's autonomy. There is disagreement among egalitarian liberal feminists, however, about the role of personal autonomy in the good life, the appropriate role of the state, and how egalitarian liberal feminism is to be justified.

2.1 Personal Autonomy
2.1.1 Procedural Accounts of Personal Autonomy

Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that women should enjoy personal autonomy. That is, they hold that women should live lives of their own choosing. Some offer “procedural” accounts of personal autonomy (MacKenzie and Stoljar discuss these, 1999, 13-19). These accounts suggest that to say that women should enjoy personal autonomy means that they are entitled to a broad range of autonomy-enabling conditions. On this view, the women's movement should work to identify and promote these conditions. Identifying these enabling conditions requires careful attention to the particular ways in which autonomy deficits are produced in diverse women's lives. Procedural accounts avoid judging directly the substance of women's choices or the arrangements that ensue. The following list of enabling conditions is representative.

Being free of violence and the threat of violence: Violence and the threat of violence violate women's dignity; they make women do what others want or reduce women's sphere of activity to avoiding harm. In some cases violence fractures the self and takes from women their sense of self-respect (Brison 1997). The feminist literature on violence against women documents the particular role that violence and the threat of violence play in unfairly disempowering and limiting women (Cudd 2006, 85-118).

Being free of the limits set by paternalistic and moralistic laws: Paternalistic laws restrict women's options on the grounds that such limits are in women's interest. Think for example of laws that limit women's employment options on the grounds that taking certain jobs is not in women's interest (Smith 2004). Moralistic laws restrict women's options on the grounds that certain choices should not be available to women because they are immoral. Think for example of laws that prohibit or restrict prostitution or abortion, or laws that favor certain kinds of sexual expression or family forms (Cornell 1998; Brake 2004). Together, paternalistic and moralistic laws steer women into socially preferred ways of life. These are unfair restrictions on women's choices, on the egalitarian liberal feminist view, because women's choices should be guided by their own sense of their self-interest and by their own values.

Having access to options: On the egalitarian liberal feminist view, women are entitled to access to options (Alstott 2004, 52; Brison 2006, 193). Women's access to options is frequently and unfairly restricted due to economic deprivation, in particular due to the “feminization of poverty” (Pearce 1978; see also Cudd 2006, 119-154). Other sources of unfairly reduced options for women are stereotyping and sex discrimination in education and employment (Smith 2004; Rhode 1997). Such stereotyping and discrimination effect racial, ethnic and cultural minorities in particularly pernicious ways. Egalitarian liberal feminists also point to the way cultural homogeneity unfairly limits women options (Cudd 2006, 234), for example when culture assigns identities and social roles according to sex (Okin 1989, 170ff; Alstott 2004; Meyers 2004; Cornell 1998, x).

Some emphasize the importance of internal, psychological enabling conditions as well, for example the ability to assess one's own preferences and imagine life otherwise (Meyers 2002, 168; Cudd 2006, 234-235; MacKenzie 1999). Without the ability to assess the preferences on the basis of which one makes choices, and the ability to imagine life otherwise, one can't meaningfully be said to have options other than affirming the status quo. These internal enabling conditions are related to the external ones. Violence and the threat of violence, stereotyping and discrimination, material deprivation, and cultural homogeneity all can have the effect of closing down reflection and imagination.

On this view, the women's movement should work to identify and promote autonomy-enabling conditions. Identifying these conditions requires careful attention to the particular ways in which autonomy deficits are produced in women's lives. On the egalitarian liberal feminist view, the state has an important role to play in promoting these conditions (see sections 2.1.4, 2.2.1, and 2.2.2). But there is much that cannot be done by the state (Cudd 2006, 223). For example, while the state can refrain from blocking such endeavors, women themselves must develop new “alternative emancipatory imagery” (Meyers 2002, 168), and fashion new ways of being a woman and new kinds of relationships through experiments in living (Cudd 2006, 234; Cornell 1998).

Some critics argue that freedom is of limited value because, even when enabling conditions like these are in place, women may continue to choose limiting and disadvantaging social arrangements. Some point to the phenomenon of deformed preferences: when attractive options are limited or arrangements unfair, people may develop preferences for those limits or for less than their fair share (Nussbaum 1999, 33, 50; Cudd 2006, 152). This phenomenon makes changing preferences through increased freedom problematic, and leads some feminists to reject theories that prioritize free choice (Yuracko 2003). Advocates of procedural accounts of autonomy concede that the enabling conditions do not rule out that a woman could choose, for example, to undergo clitorectomy (Meyers 2004, 213) or become a pornographic model (Cudd 2004, 58). As Ann Cudd explains, possibilities like these must be accepted because liberal feminism values freedom and thus cannot advocate direct “preference education” (Cudd 2004, 57). Liberal feminism must offer only a “… gradualist approach. Individuals and groups will make various experiments in living that we cannot now precisely imagine. They … will sometimes go on a mistaken path” (57). But they must be freed up to find their own way. As Diana Meyers explains, the moral imagination of feminist theorists and activists is limited (as is everyone's); they cannot know with certainty what substantive choices are compatible with personal autonomy (Meyers 2004, 213). Moreover, one should expect autonomous lives to take diverse forms in diverse cultural contexts. On this view, “a morally defensible and politically viable conception of autonomy for an era of global feminism” must be agnostic about the content of women's choices as long as they do not close off autonomy (205).

2.1.2 Fairness in Personal Relationships

Some egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the value of personal autonomy does put a substantive constraint on choices and social arrangements. They hold that the social arrangements of personal life should not only be freely chosen, but should be characterized by fairness or justice. Jean Hampton draws on the contractualist tradition in moral and political philosophy to describe one way in which heterosexual intimate relationships often fail to be fair or just (Hampton 1993). (For more on feminist uses of contractualism, see section 2.2.1.).

On Hampton's view, a personal relationship is fair only if both parties to it could “reasonably accept the distribution of costs and benefits (that is, the costs and benefits that are not themselves side effects of any affective or duty-based tie between us) if it were the subject of an informed, unforced agreement in which we think of ourselves as motivated solely by self-interest” (Hampton 1993, 240). Of course, many women choose to enter or remain in relationships in part because of affective benefits; for example women often get satisfaction from satisfying others or fulfilling a duty. Why set aside these affective benefits, as Hampton recommends, when evaluating the fairness of a relationship? Hampton does not set them aside out of a conviction that a woman's affective nature is not part of her essential self. Nor does she set them aside out of a conviction that this aspect of a woman's nature is not valuable. (For criticism of Hampton, see Sample 2002). Her test sets them aside because affective benefits of relationships are not received from the other; they are benefits that flow from one's own nature (Radzik 2005, 51). Thus while they may, and probably should, figure in a woman's overall decision about whether to enter or remain in a particular relationship, Hampton believes they should not figure in the evaluation of a relationship's fairness. As Linda Radzik explains in her defense of Hampton, a relationship is fair or just if the benefits that flow from each to the other are on par, that is, if each gives as much as she gets (51). When one party gets from the other significantly more than he gives, he is denying the other her legitimate entitlement to reciprocation.

This test formalizes an important insight of the women's movement: personal relationships, in particular traditional heterosexual relationships, are often unfair to women, indeed often exploit women's tendency to care about others. Injustice of this sort is not uncommon. Thus Hampton's test invites criticism of a wide swath of human social life (Sample 2002, 271). But Hampton does not call on women to cease valuing others' satisfaction or the fulfillment of duty (Hampton 1993, 227). Instead, she calls on the women's movement to cultivate in women and men a sensitivity and an aversion to this kind of injustice, and to develop remedies.

Procedural accounts of personal autonomy (see section 2.1.1) do not require that relationships be just in the way Hampton recommends. According to procedural accounts, it is possible that a choice to enter or remain in a personal relationship in which one gives more than she gets from the other can be autonomous. Therefore, according to procedural accounts, liberal feminists should focus on ensuring that women are not pressured into or unable to exit them.

To be sure, Hampton's account of justice in personal relationships can be a resource to women and men reflecting on their own preferences. It invites reflection on how one's own preferences affect the distribution of benefits and burdens within a relationship. Also, moral criticism of relationships that exploit women's preferences reminds us that relationships can be otherwise (because ought implies can). This reminder enhances personal autonomy by broadening the imagination. Thus procedural accounts of personal autonomy can include Hampton's test, not as definitive of the acceptability of social arrangements, but as a contribution to the kind of reflection about the good life on which the personal autonomy of individuals depends.

2.1.3 Personal Autonomy and Human Flourishing

Martha Nussbaum proposes an account of the good life that has “at its heart, a profoundly liberal idea … the idea of the citizen as a free and dignified human being, a maker of choices” (Nussbaum 1999, 46). Echoing procedural accounts of personal autonomy (section 2.1.1), Nussbaum explains: “If one cares about people's powers to choose a conception of the good, then one must care about the rest of the form of life that supports those powers” (45). But for Nussbaum personal autonomy is merely one of the “major human functionings” (43) which define “a good human life” (42). These functionings include, among other things, bodily health and integrity, affiliation, and political participation (41-42). To be sure, personal autonomy, or in Nussbaum's words “practical reason,” is a good that “suffuses all the other functions” (44). But personal autonomy is not prioritized. A good life is one in which one is able to enjoy all of the major human functionings, that is, to flourish.

Nussbaum's approach takes on the problem of deformed preferences (see section 2.1.1) directly. To be sure, some may choose lives that do not include the actual exercise of some of the functionings — an ascetic may choose to compromise bodily health. But, Nussbaum explains, one must be able to function in each of these ways. Social arrangements are to be criticized if they render their participants unable to function in the valued ways regardless of their preferences (50). The women's movement should sensitize women and men to the injustice of denying women the ability to function in these valued ways, identify arrangements that are unjust to women by paying careful attention to diverse women's lives, and recommend remedies. Nussbaum holds that her account is compatible with global moral pluralism and thus may function as a foundation for a global feminism (Nussbaum 1990, 40).

Nussbaum's “capabilities approach” may be compared with procedural accounts of autonomy (see section 2.1.1). Procedural accounts suggest that the women's movement should work to protect and promote women's ability to live lives of their own choosing by identifying particular autonomy deficits in women's lives and promoting the conditions that enable autonomy. These approaches avoid directly judging the substance of the choices women make or the arrangements that result. They leave it to individuals and groups to fashion new, diverse, non-oppressive ways of life. The list of enabling conditions for personal autonomy is not unlike Nussbaum's list of human functionings. But advocates of procedural approaches may worry that the goal of the women's movement, according to the capabilities approach, is to bring to women a particular way of life, namely one in which women can function in these ways, instead of freeing women up to find their own way (Cudd 2004, 50). As Drucilla Cornell, an advocate of a procedural approach explains, “social equality [should be] redefined so as to serve freedom” (Cornell 1998, xii) because “there is nothing more fundamental for a human being” (17; see also Cudd 2004, 51-52). Procedural accounts of autonomy can include Nussbaum's approach, not as definitive of the kinds of lives women should live, but as an important contribution to the kind of reflection on the good life on which personal autonomy depends.


2.1.4 Personal Autonomy and the State

Although there is disagreement among egalitarian liberal feminists about the role of personal autonomy in the good life, there is substantial agreement that the gender system, or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions, is responsible for a morally objectionable deficit in personal autonomy in women's lives, and that the state can and should take action to remedy this deficit. There is also substantial agreement among egalitarian liberal feminists concerning what the state should do. There is disagreement about some hard cases, however, which pit liberal values against one another.

Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the state must effectively protect women from violence, regardless of where that violence takes place (Cudd 2006, 85-118, 209; Rhode 1997, 1193-95). They also hold that paternalistic and moralistic laws are an unjust use of state power. Such laws place control over women's lives in the hands of others and steer women into preferred ways of life. Laws restricting access to abortion are of particular import in this context because they take an extremely momentous choice away from women, and together with the cultural assignment of caregiving duties to women, steer women into the social role of mother. Women must have a legal right to abortion and meaningful access to abortion services. In addition, egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the state must not grant preferential treatment to particular family forms (Brake 2004, 293; Lloyd 1995, 1328; McClain 2006, 60). Some argue that this means giving gay and lesbian partnerships the same protections currently available to heterosexuals (McClain 2006, 6). Others argue for removing marriage's privileged legal status altogether or treating it legally more like other associations (Case 2006).

Egalitarian liberals tend to reject laws prohibiting prostitution. They advocate instead the legal regulation of the sex trade prioritizing women's safety and women's control over their own working conditions (Cornell 1998, 57; Nussbaum 2002, 90). They support the right to collective bargaining to secure decent wages and working conditions (Cornell 1998, 57; Cudd 2006, 211), as well as a guaranteed minimum income (Cudd 2006, 154). They also support laws against sex discrimination in education, employment, and public accommodations. According to egalitarian liberal feminists, the refusal to hire or promote a woman or do business with her because she is a woman is a morally objectionable limit on her options. But so are workplaces that are hostile to women or practices that have negative disparate impact on women. Egalitarian liberal feminists argue that laws prohibiting sexual harassment, and requiring affirmative action and comparable worth policies are often called for to remedy past and ongoing sex discrimination (Williams 2000, 253).

Egalitarian liberal feminists hold also that a significant source of women's reduced options is the structure of the workplace, which assumes that workers are free of caregiving responsibilities (Okin 1989, 176; Williams 2000). Women, and increasingly men, do not fit this model. The effect of not fitting the model is dramatic. As Anne L. Alstott explains: “Caretakers at every income level have fewer options than noncaretakers at the same income level” (Alstott 2004, 97). She continues: “I am worried that child-rearing too dramatically contracts the options among which mothers can choose” (23). Alstott and others argue that the state must ensure that the socially essential work of providing care to dependents does not unreasonably interfere with the personal autonomy of caregivers. Policies proposed to ensure sufficient personal autonomy for caregivers include parental leave, state subsidized, high quality day care, and flexible work schedules (Cudd 2006, 228; Okin 1989, 175). Some recommend financial support for caregivers (Alstott 2004, 75ff), others suggest guaranteeing a non-wage-earning spouse one half of her wage-earning spouse's paycheck (Okin 1989, 181).

But workplaces fail to accommodate the socially essential caregiving work of their employees in various ways. Thus Joan Williams has argued for legal recognition of the right to not be discriminated against in employment on the basis of one's caregiving responsibilities. Williams recommends, if necessary, legal action alleging failure to recognize this right as an incentive to employers to accommodate caregivers (Williams 2000, 274).

There is disagreement among egalitarian liberal feminists about some hard cases that pit liberal values against one another. Egalitarian liberal feminists tend to reject legal limits on pornography (Cornell 1998, 57-58). But some hold that arguments for restricting violent pornography are not unreasonable (Laden 2003, 148-149), and that the best arguments for freedom of expression fail to show that it should not be limited (Brison 1998). Indeed some argue that violent pornography can undermine the autonomy of viewers (Scoccia 1996) and the status of women as equal citizens (Spaulding 1988-89).

Other hard cases concern the role of the state in family life. Family life has dramatic affects on the personal autonomy of its adult members. Assuming the role of caregiver, for example, dramatically contracts women's options. On an egalitarian liberal feminist view, the state has an interest in ensuring that family life does not undermine women's autonomy. Some hold that the state should promote justice in the family — for example, the sharing of paid and unpaid labor by its adult members (Okin 1989, 171). To that end Hilde Bjoer recommends compulsory parental leave for both parents (Bjoer 2002, 403), as well as legal limits on overtime (405). She even muses that the state might prohibit ways of life that are incompatible with active childrearing (405). Others hold that the state may not be guided by a substantive ideal of family life (Alstott 2004, 114; see also Nussbaum 2000, 279-280; and Wolf-Devine 2003). (See section 2.2.1 for more discussion of this issue).

Girls' participation in families is, especially in the early years, nonvoluntary. The family affects the development of girls' sense of self-worth, as well as their preferences, and the capacities, like the capacity for reflection and imagination, on which their ability to live lives of their own choosing depends (Okin 1989, 97). Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the state must protect and promote the development of autonomy capacities in children, especially girls. For example they hold that child-marriage should be legally prohibited (McClain 2006, 79); girls should have access to abortion without parental consent or notification (Rhode 1994, 1204); girls must receive a formal education free of sexist stereotyping, including instruction in the legal equality of women (McClain 2006, 81; Lloyd 1995, 1332), including autonomy-promoting sex education (McClain 2006, 57-58), and ensuring that girls are prepared to be economically independent (Lloyd 1995, 1332). Beyond this some hold that girls' interest in developing autonomy capacities requires that families be internally just, that is, that there be an equal division of paid and unpaid labor between adults, so that families are not characterized by “dependence and domination” (Okin 1989, 99-100). Others are not convinced that there is a necessary connection between this kind of justice in families and the development of girls' autonomy capacities (Lloyd 1995, 1335-1343), and hold that the state may not be guided by a substantive ideal of family life (Alstott 2004, 114; see also Nussbaum 2000a, 279-280; and Wolf-Devine 2003). (See section 2.2.1 for more discussion of this issue).

2.2 Political Autonomy

Some egalitarian liberal feminists emphasize the importance of political autonomy, that is, being co-author of the conditions under which one lives. Some use contractualist political theory to argue that the state should ensure that the basic structure of society satisfies principles of justice that women, as well as men, could endorse. Others argue that the democratic legitimacy of the basic conditions under which citizens live depends on the inclusion of women in the processes of public deliberation and electoral politics.

2.2.1 Distributive Justice

Some egalitarian liberal feminists, inspired by John Rawls' contractualist liberal theory of justice (Rawls 1971; 1993), argue that the state should ensure that the basic structure of society distributes the benefits and burdens of social cooperation fairly, that is, in a manner that women as well as men could endorse (Alstott 2004; Bjoer 2002; Lloyd 1998; McClain 2006; Okin 1989; Thompson 1993). They argue that the basic structure currently distributes benefits and burdens unfairly, in part due to the gender system or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions. And they argue that, for this reason, remedial state action is called for.

As Rawls puts it, the basic structure of society is: “The way in which the major social institutions distribute fundamental rights and duties and determine the division of advantages from social cooperation. By major institutions I understand the political constitution and the principal economic and social arrangements… Competitive markets and the monogamous family [are] examples of major social institutions… The basic structure is the primary subject of justice because its effects are so profound and present from the start. The intuitive notion here is that this structure contains various social positions and that men born into different positions have different expectations of life determined, in part, by the political system as well as by economic and social circumstances. In this way the institutions of society favor certain starting places over others” (Rawls 1971, 6-7).

Rawls argues that the fairness of the basic structure of society may be assessed by asking what principles representatives of citizens (parties) would choose to determine the distribution of primary goods in society if they were behind a “veil of ignorance” (Rawls 1971, 12). The veil of ignorance blocks from the parties knowledge of their place in society: for example their socio-economic status, religion, and sex. (Rawls does not include sex in A Theory of Justice (Rawls 1971), but adds it in “Fairness to Goodness” (Rawls 1975, 537).) Susan Okin proposes we “take seriously both the notion that those behind the veil of ignorance do not know what sex they are and the requirement that the family and the gender system, as basic social institutions, are to be subject to scrutiny” (Okin 1989, 101).

Rawls argues that parties behind the veil of ignorance would choose two principles: a liberty principle providing for the “most extensive total system of equal basic liberties compatible with a similar system of liberty for all;” and a principle of equality requiring equality of opportunity, and permitting inequalities only if they are to the benefit of the least well off (Rawls 1971, 302-303).

Okin argues that the “gender system” violates both the liberty and equality of opportunity principles because by effectively assigning roles to citizens according to sex it circumvents citizens' “free choice of occupation” (Okin 1989, 103). On Okin's view, this means that in a just society “gender could no longer form a legitimate part of the social structure, whether inside or outside the family” (103). None of the institutions of the basic structure, including the family, could assign roles according to sex.[2] It is common to argue that the state, educational institutions, and workplaces should not assign roles according to sex. But Okin argues that this applies to the family as well. Gender blindness must play the same role in the family that it plays in these institutions. In Okin's words, there must be “congruence” between the principles that govern these institutions and those that govern family life (21). That is, families must be just.

Okin offers a second argument to support the claim that families must be just. Rawls explains that a society based on his two principles of justice can be stable because within it citizens develop a sense of justice (Rawls 1971, 453ff). For our purposes consider that citizens must develop the conviction that citizens generally are due the rights of equal citizenship. Okin argues that when children are raised within unjust families, families which lack “equality and reciprocity,” and are characterized by “dependence and domination,” they are not likely to develop the requisite sense of justice (Okin 1989, 99-100; see also McClain 2006, 73-84). Instead, girls and boys and may grow to believe that women are not entitled to equal citizenship. Therefore, if the society governed by Rawls' two principles of justice is to be stable, families must be just.

What can and should the state do to ensure that gender no longer forms a “part of the social structure, whether inside or outside the family” (Okin 1989, 103)? Okin endorses measures for the workplace, for example state subsidized daycare, parental leave, and flextime (176, 186). These accommodations make it possible for women and men to choose against traditional roles. She also recommends protecting from vulnerability those women who do choose traditional roles by making them entitled to half of their spouse's paycheck (181). But Okin does not think that the state should stop at increasing the voluntariness of women's choices and compensating for disadvantage. She argues instead that the state may and should promote a particular ideal of family life. She tells us that the state should “encourage and facilitate the equal sharing by men and women of paid and unpaid work, or productive and reproductive labor” (171). Accommodations by employers may be understood, then, not only as a way of making options available to women, but as a way of encouraging the sharing of paid and unpaid work by spouses. Another way the state may encourage such egalitarianism is through autonomy-promoting education, especially for girls (177). To be sure, Okin argues that what is desired is a “future in which all will be likely to choose this mode of life” (171, my emphasis). But the fact that many people currently don't choose it does not mean, for Okin, that it is not an appropriate goal of state action (172). (There is a substantial literature on Okin's use of Rawls' theory of justice. See Egalitarian Liberal Feminism Works.)

Other egalitarian feminists apply contractualist political philosophy inspired by Rawls to the problem of justice for women but draw slightly different conclusions from Okin. S.A. Lloyd (1998), Anne L. Alstott (2004) and Linda C. McClain (2006) each argue that a basically Rawlsian contractualist argument supports the claim that the current disadvantages women suffer as a result of their shouldering a disproportionate share of the burdens of social reproduction must be remedied by state action. All three endorse many of Okin's policy proposals (Lloyd 1995, 1332; 1998, 218; Alstott 2004). But they reject Okin's claim that the state should promote a particular substantive ideal of family life (Lloyd 1995, 1340-1341; Lloyd 1998, 218; McClain 2006, 78). Alstott writes: “The egalitarian family is, even in principle, a troubling ideal. Strictly equal sharing seems unduly constraining, not merely because families today deviate from the idea, but because free people might want to organize their lives differently” (Alstott 2004, 113). Other egalitarian liberal feminists have voiced similar concerns. Ann Cudd worries that state action intended to promote gender fairness and foster women's autonomy could impose a homogenizing conception of the good life, and stifle the very reinventions of self and experiments in living that women's liberation requires (Cudd 2006, 209, 223; see also Wolf-Devine 2003).

2.2.2 Public Deliberation and Electoral Politics

Some egalitarian liberal feminists who emphasize the importance of political autonomy — that women be co-authors of the conditions under which they live — focus in particular on participation in the processes of democratic self-determination. These processes include both political deliberation in the many arenas of public political discourse, and electoral politics. Egalitarian liberal feminists hold that the conditions under which women live lack legitimacy because women are inadequately represented in these processes. They hold that this political autonomy deficit is, in large part, due to the “gender system” (Okin 1989, 89), or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions, and that the women's movement should work to identify and remedy it.

Attempts to increase women's participation in public deliberation and electoral politics confront a vicious circle of women's exclusion. The gender system, or the patriarchal nature of inherited traditions and institutions, leads to women's being underrepresented in influential forums of public deliberation and in elected law-making bodies. For example women have less free time to engage in public deliberation because of the double-burden they carry of paid and unpaid labor; sex stereotyping leads many to think that women (especially women from ethnic and cultural minorities) are less capable of leadership than men; the behavior called for in agonistic public deliberation and electoral politics is understood to be masculine; issues of particular interest to women are seen as personal and not political issues; women lack power in the many institutions (like churches, universities, and think tanks) that influence political debate, etc. But when women are underrepresented in these forums and law-making bodies, it is unlikely that the justice of the gender system will become the subject of public conversation or its dismantling a target of legislative action.

Some egalitarian liberal feminists explore ways to escape this vicious circle. Because women are excluded from important forums of public deliberation and electoral politics in complex ways, remedies must address a variety of problems. Justice in the distribution of benefits and burdens in society would go some way towards enabling women to access forums of public debate on equal terms with men (Okin 1989, 104). But cultural change is necessary as well if stereotypes about women's abilities are not to interfere with their participation, if women's needs and interests are to be understood as legitimate claims on democratic power, and if men's dominance in institutions of influence is to be overcome. Seyla Benhabib argues that the women's movement, along with other new social movements like the gay and lesbian liberation movements, has begun this work (Benhabib 1992). While much of this change is cultural and must come about through civic action, the state has a role to play. Linda McClain argues that all children must receive civic education — to equip them for democratic citizenship — including instruction in women's equality (McClain 2006, 81). She also argues that the state may use its persuasive power to put traditionally excluded issues, like violence against women or the dilemma of balancing work and family, on the agenda for public deliberation (78).

Others take on the vicious circle of women's exclusion by recommending legal mechanisms for the inclusion of women in electoral politics (see Rhode 1994, 1205-1208; Peters 2006; Phillips 1991). Some suggest that legal mechanisms for including those who have been systematically excluded may be justified as remedies for the unjust disproportionate political power enjoyed by others (Phillips 2004, 6-10). Suggested mechanisms include targets or quotas for women (and other underrepresented groups) on party slates, or proportional representation in elected bodies. Karen Green, for example, argues for “guaranteed equal representation of both sexes in parliament” (Green 2006). There is diversity of opinion, however, among liberal feminists about the justice and efficacy of such mechanisms (Peters 2006; see also Rhode 1994, 1205).

2.3 Justification

Why are individuals entitled to personal and political autonomy? Why should social arrangements respect individuals' personal and political autonomy? And why should the state protect and promote it? Following John Rawls, we may distinguish broadly between two kinds of answers to these questions. The answers provided by “comprehensive liberals” rest on moral grounds. That is, comprehensive liberals point to moral theories to justify the importance of autonomy. The answers that “political liberals” offer, on the other hand, rest on “public reason.” That is, political liberals claim that, in societies like the United States, respect for autonomy is a shared, public value (Rawls 1993).

Jean Hampton may be counted among comprehensive liberals. Hampton's feminist contractualist account of justice in personal relationships (see section 2.2.1) is explicitly grounded in Kant's moral philosophy (Hampton 1993, 241). Drucilla Cornell also offers an egalitarian liberal feminist theory — focused on the right to intimate and sexual self-determination — that is explicitly grounded in Kant's moral theory (Cornell 1998, 17-18; see also Thurschwell 1999, 771-772). Ann Cudd too explains that her liberal feminist account of oppression as harm is grounded in a “background moral theory,” namely “a liberal contractarian view of the sort developed by John Rawls in A Theory of Justice, or the more libertarian version of David Gauthier in Morals by Agreement” (Cudd 2006, 231). Susan Okin's feminist theory of justice is also a comprehensive view (Okin 1999, 129). Okin draws on Rawls' A Theory of Justice, which Rawls himself claims is a comprehensive moral theory (Rawls 1993, xvii). In addition, as many argue, the substantive ideal of family life that Okin recommends (according to which paid and unpaid labor should be shared equally by spouses) (see section 2.2.1) conflicts with many reasonable conceptions of family life, and cannot be counted as, or derived from, a public value.

Other egalitarian liberal feminists argue that public reason, that is, shared, public values, support significant feminist conclusions. S.A. Lloyd argues also that feminists would do well to limit themselves to such values (Lloyd 1998, 210). She explains that “it's true that confining the argument to talk of socially recognized values requires operating with one hand tied behind one's back, so to speak. Conclusions that would be quite easy to reach from stronger feminist principles, or other comprehensive egalitarian principles, are much harder to reach using the sparse … toolbox [of public reason]” (210). But, she continues, if we can reach feminist conclusions on these sparse grounds, they will be much more difficult to reject. Lloyd constructs an argument based on shared, public values to the conclusion that justice requires that “women's disproportionate burden in social reproduction [must] be eliminated” (Lloyd 1998, 214). (She rejects, however, Okin's call for state promotion of egalitarianism in the family (Lloyd 1998, 218) (see section 2.2.1).

Linda McClain also argues that an egalitarian liberal feminism may proceed on the basis of public reason (McClain 2006). Through a discussion of recent constitutional and family law, McClain argues that sex equality is a public and constitutional principle (60; see also 22-23, 60-62, and 76). She explains that this principle requires state opposition to relations of subordination and domination in the family (62); state support for autonomy in intimate matters (22); and support for the development of autonomy capacities in children, especially girls (109). (She too rejects Okin's call for state promotion of egalitarianism within the family (78)). Martha Nussbaum also presents her “capabilities approach” as a political, and not a comprehensive, liberalism (see section 2.1.3.). The capabilities list, she argues, can be shared by citizens holding a wide variety of comprehensive conceptions of the good life, and thus should be able to function as a foundation for a political liberalism (Nussbaum 2000a, 76).

2.4 Criticism
2.4.1 Liberal Criticism

Some, including some egalitarian liberal feminists, argue that egalitarian liberal feminisms run the risk of being insufficiently liberal. Measures intended to promote gender fairness and the autonomy of women could end up unreasonably hindering citizen autonomy (Cudd 2006, 223). Some argue that Susan Okin's claim that the state should be guided by an egalitarian ideal of family life is an example of such a measure (see section 2.2.1). Other measures recommended by some egalitarian liberal feminists that some hold may be illiberal include quotas on party slates or in elected bodies (Peters 2006) (see section 2.2.2), and bans on violent pornography (see section 2.2.4).

Classical liberals or libertarians are critical of egalitarian liberal feminisms because, on their view, liberalism cannot support the claim that the right of some against coercive interference may be violated in order to promote the autonomy capacities of others, such as we find in affirmative action programs, or in the substantial taxation that would be necessary to fund the social programs egalitarian liberals endorse (Epstein 2002).

2.4.2 Conservative Criticism

Conservatives hold that reformers can do more harm than good when they undermine the institutions and norms which, while surely offending in many ways, also serve as the foundation for many people's well-being (Muller 1997; see also Fox-Genovese 1996). Such conservatives worry about the radical implications of liberal feminism, its willingness to put women's autonomy ahead of institutions and norms on which many people rely for their well-being. Ann Cudd suggests that the expansion of opportunity and equality promised by egalitarian liberal feminism “makes us all better off” (Cudd 2006, 237). Conservatives encourage us to consider also the loss that is in liberation.

2.4.3 Feminist Criticism

Some argue that egalitarian liberal feminism is insufficiently feminist. Some argue that the value of autonomy cannot support robust feminist criticism, and that robust feminist criticism requires a substantive feminist ideal of the good life (Yuracko 2003). Some argue that liberalism's central concern with fully functioning adult citizens renders it incapable of accounting sufficiently for the political value of caregiving work and the moral attitudes characteristic of the caring relation (Held 1987; Kittay 1999; Baier 1987; Ruddick 1989). Some argue that liberalism's focus on the distribution of benefits and burdens in society must be replaced with a focus on power relations (Young 1990, 37). Indeed, some argue that egalitarian liberal feminism's focus on women's disadvantage in the distribution of benefits and burdens, and on deficits in women's personal autonomy, overlooks the deeper problems of power inequality and the eroticization of domination and subordination that are the true lynchpins of the gender system (MacKinnon 1987; 1989).

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  • Additional Sources
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Historical Sources
  • Abbey, Ruth. (1999). ‘Back to the Future: Marriage as Friendship in the Thoughts of Mary Wollstoncraft.’ Hypatia 14: 78-95.
  • Anderson, Elizabeth. 1991. “John Stuart Mill and Experiments in Living.” Ethics 102: 4-26.
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Selected Feminist Criticism
  • Fox-Genovese, Elizabeth. (1990). Feminism Without Illusions: A Critique of Individualism. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press.
  • Held, Virginia. (1987). ‘Non-contractual Society: A Feminist View.’ In Marsha Hanen and Kai Nielsen (eds.) Science, Morality and Feminist Theory. Canadian Journal of Philosophy Supplementary 13: 111-37.
  • Jaggar, Alison. (1983). Feminist Politics and Human Nature. Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield.
  • MacKinnon, Catharine. (1989). Toward a Feminist Theory of the State. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
  • –––. (1987). Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
  • Pateman, Carole. (1988). The Sexual Contract. Cambridge: Polity Press.
  • Young, Iris. (2006). ‘Taking the Basic Structure Seriously.’ Perspectives on Politics 4: 91-97.
  • –––. (1990). Justice and the Politics of Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
  • Yuracko, Kimberly. (2003). Perfectionism and Contemporary Feminist Values. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press.