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Published online by Cambridge University Press: 03 March 2004
Communitarianism has long suffered from vagueness: what is community? What about it, if anything, is necessary or good? What are the boundaries of morally relevant communities? Often those who attend to the claims of community tender these questions with too little rigor. Not so Andrew Mason. His new book has three main purposes: to map the meaning of community, to assess the claims of political community in relation to communities below the level of the state, and to evaluate the claims of political communities with respect to the global community. In addition to a number of rigorous and thoughtful clarifications and a comprehensive overview of recent debates between liberalism and its critics, the book offers arguments of its own which are often more bold than its judicious manner suggests. It deserves careful attention by all who have attempted to sort through the tensions between liberalism and community.
As those who are familiar with his work know, Mason wields a sharp analytic knife (Explaining Political Disagreement, 1993; Ideals of Equality, 1998). In the first part of Community, Solidarity, and Belonging, he uses this to advantage by clarifying the distinction between ordinary and moralized conceptions of community. Ordinary community refers to a group of individuals who share some values, possess a way of life in common, identify with the group, and recognize each other as members of the group. The moralized concept contains all of these but adds solidarity or mutual concern. In a moral community, individuals “give each other's interests non-instrumental weight” (p. 27). Mason also distinguishes among different levels of community, including those below the level of the state (such as minority cultures), those at the level of the state (political communities), and those at a global level (a community of states). These inform the questions at the center of the book: What community should government encourage at the level of the state? and How should political community accommodate communities below and above it?
Aiming to balance the protection of rights with a sense of belonging among citizens, Mason advocates what he calls the “inclusive political community.” This is meant to be a practical model, not an impossible ideal. It squarely faces the practical difficulty that arises when liberal states contain communities within them that endorse illiberal views. Perhaps it would be ideal if citizens converged on one (liberal) concept of justice, if their togetherness came from something like moral reasoning. But a workable model of political community must take people much as they are—divided, not only by interest but also by cultural affiliation, and therefore unlikely to agree about either principles of right or conceptions of the good. These divisions are the real matter of politics.
Amid such disagreement, Mason aims not for principles of justice that all can accept but, rather, for a policy of accommodating communities below the level of the state. He claims that recognizing and including groups, often on their own terms, would cultivate a widespread sense of belonging. The policy Mason has in mind comes into sharp focus in matters of education. In a tempered endorsement of multicultural education, Mason recommends a “pluralist” school system where schools are permitted to endorse particular cultures. He says, “the pluralist model maintains that it is legitimate for teachers to evaluate the ideas of different cultures from some particular perspective, find them wanting and dismiss them” (p. 151). While subject to some constraint (such as a bar on propagating racist or sexist notions in the classroom), Mason would go a long way to accommodate specific cultural groups. “In certain circumstances,” Mason writes, “there may be a strong case for stopping schools from teaching that the holocaust never happened because this would undermine a sense of belonging, but it is less clear that there could be similar reasons for preventing schools from teaching that creationism is true” (p. 161; italics added). Yet the standard for education should not be a sense belonging, but truth. Against Mason, one might insist that in no circumstances should schools teach what is obviously false—and that those, for instance, who cannot abide by the fact that the Holocaust never happened do not merit a sense of belonging.
Indeed, the extent of accommodation Mason recommends gives a fragile cast to his liberal commitment to protect rights. He argues, for instance, that the content and meaning of rights should come from citizens, not lawyers and judges (pp. 81–2, 90). Fair enough, politics has its place, one which philosophy and jurisprudence are often too ready to usurp. Yet in practice this can be a slippery distinction. Although Mason has in mind a kind of dialogue (not the tussle of interest groups), real politics rarely resembles the openness or reflection of nice discussions. To render rights the prey of political dialogue may denude rights of their symbolic and institutional force. It's an open question whether the broad “liberal perspective” Mason affirms can survive the degree of accommodation that he calls for and continue to count as a liberal doctrine (p. 9). A more direct argument on behalf of maintaining a sense of belonging is needed if we are to fully grasp why, when rights and the claims of cultural minorities conflict, we should relax a commitment to enforcing rights.
Why should liberals care whether nonliberal minorities “feel at home” in the liberal state? One reason might be strategic: The demands of holding polities together might require some condescension from liberal principles. Yet the hand of necessity is not always so near, and in fact Mason's argument is motivated not only by empirical concerns about political unity, but also by a principled commitment to inclusion. This, in turn, would seem to reflect a particular interpretation of moral equality. Since the consequences of these commitments are profound, their justification needs to be made more visible.
The scope of accommodation, for instance, will depend on the way inclusion is justified. If the argument for accommodation is simply strategic, it might apply only where liberalism has a real fight on its hands and thus needs to accommodate. In other places, where liberalism is dominant, liberals may have the luxury of indulging illiberal groups in their midst. Yet to persuade them to grant such indulgences—or further, to persuade readers that protecting rights can be an act of cultural imperialism (pp. 85, 90)—will take a more principled argument about rights and justice than Mason offers. Indeed, Mason raises vital doubts about “the notion of public justifiability” on which many liberals lean so hard (p. 69). Following these doubts through to the full arguments that underlie them would lend stronger support to the book's provocative recommendations. As it stands, this work subtly nudges liberalism's self-image while reminding readers that the politics of protecting liberal rights while accommodating nonliberal groups remains a vexing mix.
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