This book is filled with useful insights, but the parts do not fit together. The reader is treated to many interesting commentaries on authors ranging from Cicero to Charles Fried, from James Madison to Anthony Downs. Yet it is often difficult to discern why Andrew Sabl makes assertions that are supposed to be part of, or derived from, the “theory” he proposes in the process of offering these commentaries—his proposed “theory of democratic constancy.” On the basis of this theory he offers surprisingly specific prescriptions for how political actors, such as U.S. senators, activists, and political organizers, should act. Yet the connection between the theory and these prescriptions is far from clear. And he goes on to dismiss alternative theories, such as “populism” and “deliberative democracy,” that can be interpreted as offering prescriptions for some of the same political roles he is interested in, yet it is difficult to see the basis for the asserted superiority of “democratic constancy” over these alternatives.

Ruling Passions begins with a case for fundamental value pluralism tied to the inevitability of conflict between universal and particular political principles, the conflict between impartial consideration of everyone's interests and the special claims of particular groups. Universal principles, whether Kantian or utilitarian, make enormous demands when applied strictly to everyone, and these demands conflict with special obligations connected to roles and personal attachments. My obligations to my wife and children are different from those I may have to total strangers. If we push too hard on universalism, we can end up facing demands for extraordinary sacrifice, but if we acknowledge only special obligations to those close to us, we deny the humanity of strangers. This basic conflict has fueled a long debate enriched by work Sabl cites from Peter Singer, Bernard Williams, Samuel Scheffler, and others.

Sabl proposes not to recast this debate but to build on it. If there is an unavoidable and fundamental “pluralism” of political principles, then the resulting indeterminacies provide an argument, he believes, for our requiring democratic constancy in key political roles. Constancy has three aspects: “consistency of character, consistent attention to certain political relationships and long-termism in the pursuit of political goals” (p. 49).

If we have this kind of pluralism, why democratic constancy? As John Rawls noted, this kind of pluralism means balancing competing considerations in particular cases, trading off moral conflicts or even the elements of tragic choices. It seems to imply a lack of constancy, as Rawls's name for it—“intuitionism”—implied (one would intuitionistically balance trade-offs in particular cases). If there are colossal collisions of principle in a particular case in which both principles cannot possibly be satisfied, do we want constancy in devotion to one side or the other? Do we want someone who will not compromise or give in, failing to acknowledge that the moral claim on one side of such a collision might sometimes justify overriding the other side? Why should “certain political relationships” always trump? Maybe the claims of such a relationship need to be overridden in some cases. Why always side with long-termism whenever long-term goals clash with short-term ones? Maybe there is a terrible emergency and long-term goals should reasonably be put off in a particular case until the emergency passes.

Sabl may not, in fact, disagree with these points. But to the extent that is correct, it becomes hard to see how he can proceed under the banner of constancy. When he gets to his surprisingly specific prescriptions for what political actors should actually do, the theory of democratic constancy does not look so constant. For example, he advises politicians such as U.S. senators to formulate their positions in response to focus groups. He discusses focus groups in formerly Democratic areas of Macomb County and advises that politicians who really listened could craft a winning message either by making racist appeals or by “a nonracial message promising say, a middle class tax cut, welfare reform, a tough stand on crime, and federal action on education and industrial policy” (p. 161). While he admits either appeal would work, he commends the nonracist one to us. Still, it is not clear where in the theory he gets this appealing prescription. While we might all be more sympathetic to the nonracist appeal, a racist one could rest on elements of his constancy—on particular attachments, consistency of character, and long-termism. The long-term goals are not ones with which we, or most of his likely readers, will sympathize. However, we are not offered a theoretical basis for distinguishing the good long-term goals from the bad (apart from the pursuit of fame by legislators), or the elements of character that might help us in distinguishing objectionable constant actions from nonobjectionable ones. If Sabl had chosen as a senator Strom Thurmond instead of Everett Dirksen to illustrate his views, he would have had someone who also had long-term goals and who was consistent for many years (and who lived long enough to outlive his consistency), but whose views appeared to many as misguided and stubborn, not worthy of “democratic constancy.”

To the extent that politicians rely on focus groups, it is hard to see how their actions will illustrate constancy from the recommendations of one focus group to the next. The same can be said for another of Sabl's prescriptions: “Good Senators must bargain, and in particular must be willing to bargain even on matters of principle” (p. 163; italics in original). The author explains: “Since laws must be made and coalitions formed in spite of conflicts of viewpoint, the proper response to this diversity is the utilitarian, reductionist one: to regard these viewpoints primarily as preferences and bargain with them” (p. 163). But if one's moral principles (and those of others abiding by the theory) are all to be bargained in a utilitarian calculus, then it is hard to predict in advance how the calculus will come out in particular cases. Principles treated as principles might yield constancy. Principles treated as preferences to be weighed in a utilitarian calculus can be bargained away.

Sabl's dismissal of deliberative democracy cannot be separated from his commitment to long-termism. There are many possible long-term goals. Some may be excellent and some misguided. Some may serve justice and the common good and some just particular interests. How are we to choose? Democratic constancy enjoins representatives to pursue long-term “fame.” But representatives can achieve recognition on the part of a benighted public even though more just or wise policies could have been adapted instead. Because the author embraces fundamental pluralism, he lacks criteria of justice or the common good to tell us which long-term goals are better. Because he rejects deliberative democracy (pp. 145–51), he lacks an account of the appropriate decision/discussion process that might enlighten us as to the most appropriate long-term goals. He is left with just privileging the general idea of long-termism. But this seems unwise in light of the very moral conflicts with which he started (and to which he returns in his discussion of bargaining, noted above). Flexibility and the need for trade-offs in particular cases would seem to require a lack of constancy tailored to the moral and political complexity of particular cases. If Sabl's representatives ignore the complexities with which his book starts, they can stay constant, but it is hard to see how they will be doing the right thing. If they do the right thing, it is hard to see how they will stay “constant.”