Hers is a process-oriented conception of inclusion rather than a spatial or physical one. Inclusion is not the end point, but a condition of democratic legitimacy. To be included one need not enter into a space of deliberation at all; participation cannot be limited to face-to-face interactions and representation is necessary in large-scale multicultural societies. Among other reasons, direct democracy should not be our ideal because our relations to others extend well beyond the local level at which we encounter others physically. If we think of representation in terms of process rather than identity or substitution, as the ongoing relationship of constituents to one another and to their representative, we will be able to sustain a larger measure of inclusion.

Young rejects the idea that inequality and difference necessarily stymie political inclusion. The deeper conditions of inclusion are not only social, economic, or racial, but also procedural: being heard and understood, autonomy, representation, and the ability to move across political jurisdictions that range from local and civic to global. Even under conditions of structural inequality we might still enliven democratic practice if we explicitly acknowledge and accommodate social structural difference in the democratic process. For example, in these terms an argument for inclusion under conditions of residential segregation need not take a side in favor of either group solidarity or integration, of difference or identity. Segregation can be both good and bad; it offers the supportive backdrop of group solidarity for those marked by difference but it also leaves those whose privilege it is to be unmarked by difference unchanged. Still, it matters less where or how we live differently among ourselves (even if it is not perfectly voluntary) if we think of inclusion in terms of process rather than the integration of spaces, institutions, or neighborhoods or the assimilation of cultural difference. Separateness itself is less the problem than that democratic processes do not take existing structural differences into account. That would mean shifting the focus away from the excluded and toward the processes that privilege certain social perspectives and modes of expression.

Young offers the ideal of “differentiated solidarity” as an alternative to the ideals of integration and cultural assimilation as a means of balancing inclusion with the realities of a divided world. She develops the conceptual tools to counterbalance the dangers of involuntary exclusion against the autonomy of groups and persuasively uses social structural difference as a means of mitigating debates over identity and difference. Less persuasively, she suggests that difference can be transformed from an obstacle to a resource in democratic deliberations. Consistent with the critical traditions that she invokes, Young favors ideals for their critical potential.

Viewed procedurally, democracy is above all the best means we have for collective problem-solving because it allows us to approximate the ideals of inclusion, justice, and equality. Young makes a sound case against orienting deliberations toward the common good. Whether the starting point or the conclusion of our deliberations, unity excludes those who do not share our perspectives and understandings. We also exclude the possibility that democratic engagement will transform us or our interests and perspectives on the common good. There is one serious omission in this collection of essays. If we accept a procedural and minimalist theory of democracy as a means of collective problem-solving, we will need to know how a problem gets defined as a collective one. How will we come to accept, say, the problem of racial segregation as our problem rather than their problem? Young's answer is caught up in solving the problem of inclusive political communication and does not directly address how the agenda is set for collective deliberation. This is an old problem in democratic theory but one that continues to nag the critical tradition in particular.

Young can be charged with having too many things both ways. For example, she criticizes the literatures on civil society for imposing exclusionary norms of civility upon politics. In defending unruly demonstrations and boisterous modes of expression and debate, Young unmasks the biases and exclusions that norms of deliberation impose. At the same time, she proposes that one of the most important powers of otherwise powerless groups is to shame the powerful into recognizing their claims to justice. How can we deliver both a politics of shame and a politics that does not impose cultural norms upon others? Distinctions between shameful and inclusive actions are not easy to sustain beyond examples like the WTO and anarchists. The focus here on procedure solves some problems and, of course, generates others.

Young takes up the crucial question of jurisdiction introduced in her earlier work. Our jurisdictions should extend as far as our obligations of justice to accommodate our relations to any others affected by our decisions. Citing Onora O'Neill, Young argues that our obligations of justice follow a causal chain that extends globally. She couples that argument with one for “relational autonomy.” Procedurally, autonomy means noninterference, while relationally a group must remain accountable to the interests and perspectives of others. In addition to the problem of scale, how can we be both autonomous and accountable in any meaningful way? How can democracy accommodate both autonomous local institutions and global obligations of justice? It is her style to mitigate, to find a way of posing the question so that we might have it both ways. It is persuasive and simultaneously inconclusive.

As the ideals pile upon one another in these essays, the reader might get a sense that we are getting too far away from the real world of democracy. Her ideal of a reasonable citizen seems pretty far-fetched in the real world of debate TV and partisan politics: A reasonable citizen is one who is open to having their views and perspectives change in the process of deliberation. How many citizens do you know who are rational by this measure, who go into a political debate with the expectation that their opinions, their perspectives, and their interests will be transformed? But Young's conception of deliberation, like her conception of democracy, is minimalist. If we do not expect to undergo transformation, we cannot be engaged in authentically democratic deliberation. By treating democracy minimally and procedurally as a means of collective problem-solving, Young does in fact achieve a balance between the real and the ideal that stands out brilliantly in the field of normative democratic theory. Her voice, like her arguments, is temperate but never tepid. However subtle, there is a potent set of arguments here that will draw the attention of those who favor agonistic theories of democracy back to normative theory. It will bring those who favor radical democracy back to exiting conditions and the shortage of negative liberty. Proponents of civil society are reminded that the state is the only institution we have for coordinating public expenditures. All in all, these essays will be of critical interest to everyone working in democratic theory and especially to those ready to grapple with the paradox of her opening line: “Democracy is hard to love” (p. 16).