Robert B. Talisse's Democracy and Moral Conflict addresses what he calls the problem of “deep politics.” In democracies there is a plurality of moral doctrines “that conflict with each other but nonetheless individually meet some rather loose conditions for minimal plausibility” (p. 13). This gives rise to a paradox in that democratic legitimacy requires justifying decisions to all citizens, but because of moral divisions, there is also disagreement regarding what justification requires. Given this paradox, democracies face the problem of justifying their existence to those for whom the outcomes of democratic politics violate some fundamental moral value they hold.

Neither viewing democratic politics as a civil war by other means nor adopting a pragmatic approach that sees democracy only as a modus vivendi is satisfying because both create commitments that can evaporate in the face of changing circumstances or power relations. Theories of democratic proceduralism are also unpersuasive because they unrealistically presuppose that citizens can see their “deepest moral and religious commitments as wants, preferences, and interests” and “are willing to view their commitments as fungible items that can be exchanged and bargained with” (p. 27, emphasis in original). John Rawls's public reason approach, what Talisse calls the politics of omission, is also unconvincing because requiring citizens to bracket off their comprehensive doctrines when entering the public sphere will likely generate instability and “create social conditions under which extremist groups can flourish, grow, and become more extreme” (p. 62). Of even more importance, Rawls and those who have extended or modified his theory, such as Charles Larmore, Jeffrey Stout, and Amy Gutmann and Dennis Thompson, must always fall back on a presumption of a common commitment to some moral principle to ground their democratic theories. These principles are in need of justification, but since this is impossible given deep moral divides, these theories cannot provide a good reason for citizens to maintain their democratic commitments.

As an alternative, Talisse develops an argument grounded in a theory of “folk epistemology” that he bases upon the “epistemic commitments that can be plausibly expected to be shared among persons deeply divided over moral and religious fundamentals” (p. 79). Five principles constitute his theory: 1) To believe some proposition, p, is to hold that p is true; 2) to hold that p is true is generally to hold that the best reasons support p; 3) to hold that p is supported by the best reasons is to hold that p is assertable; 4) to assert that p is to enter into a social process of reason exchange; 5) to engage in social processes of reason exchange is to at least implicitly adopt certain cognitive and dispositional norms related to one's epistemic character. The implication of these five principles is that anyone who is committed to being an epistemically proper believer must be committed to democracy. Since all citizens are committed to their beliefs, regardless of the content of their moral commitments, they must also commit to democracy. Talisse calls the theory he derives from this folk epistemology “dialogical democracy.”

Democracy and Moral Conflict is a well-written book that should be accessible to a variety of readers. It elucidates an interesting argument that provides a justification for democracy that escapes some of the criticisms aimed at other theories, and as such, should be of interest to political theorists and philosophers. Yet there are two related issues that cause me some concern.

The first relates to the move away from having reasons to support a belief toward a commitment to subjecting that belief to the critical scrutiny of all who may challenge it. Talisse recognizes the obvious objection that many people already believe they know the truth, and they are precisely those who contribute to the problem of deep politics (p. 139). They are “truth-knowers,” not “truth-seekers.” He responds by positing that even those who know the truth still need to know all relevant moral and nonmoral facts and are epistemically dependent upon others; they thus require a reliable social epistemic system to make moral judgments. Since a reliable social epistemic system requires democracy, “even those who take their own moral doctrines to be beyond revision and not in need of examination or justification” should endorse democratic politics (p. 143).

Yet this argument goes only so far. Truth-knowers could admit to needing a reliable social epistemic system, but because they know the correct source of truth, it logically follows that they should—and they probably would—attempt to establish a social epistemic system only with others who also acknowledge this source. Talisse responds by referring to Cass Sunstein's work on group polarization, which provides evidence that groups of like-minded individuals tend to take more extreme positions after deliberation. If those who know the truth interact only with other true believers, they are likely to move toward a more extreme position, which will not then be the truth; the only way to maintain true belief is to engage with those who disagree.

It is difficult to see how this argument would persuade those who believe they know the truth. Consider people who believe that abortion is murder because God has revealed this. In what way, they might ask, will being open to the arguments of others have any positive epistemic effect on their belief? Being open to others might open the door only to deceptive and immoral influences. As another example, it is hard to see how white supremacists would agree that they should engage in reason giving with members of other races who, by definition, are epistemically unfit. Valuing the truth of their beliefs might persuade people that they need to engage with others, but only those others whose epistemic fitness is evident.

The second related issue concerns Talisse's claim that he is presenting an epistemic rather than a moral justification. In his discussion of Mozert v. Hawkins—the much-discussed court case involving a group of parents who wanted to exempt their children from reading materials that promoted values contrary to their religious beliefs—the author maintains that the folk epistemic argument would respond to plaintiff Vicki Frost 1) by pointing out that she cannot believe that the word of God as found in the Christian Bible is the totality of her beliefs because the Bible does not say “The word of God as found in the Christian Bible is the totality of Vicki Frost's beliefs” (p. 181; emphasis in original); and 2) by arguing that the existence of controversies over biblical interpretation demonstrate the need for Christians to subject their beliefs to critical public scrutiny. Thus, “Frost's positive epistemic commitments must support critical engagement with opposing doctrines for the sake of developing the epistemic capacities that enable her children to better apprehend and maintain belief in the truth” (p. 183; emphasis in original).

Are people like Frost going to commit to democratic principles based upon the position that believers must be open to the arguments of morally repugnant others in order to be epistemically proper? For many believers, what to believe and how to test beliefs are moral, not simply epistemic, issues. Many people view a holy text as the only test of moral truths, and if the outcomes of democratic politics clash with those moral truths, I am not sure that pointing out their proper epistemic commitments should convince them that democratic principles override their deepest moral commitments.