The democratic backsliding that has accelerated across the globe over the past decade has included a rollback of liberal arts and sciences (LAS) as a system of university education. This essay explores the origins and goals of the global LAS education reform movement. I argue that while the movement is under threat largely due to its principled value of educating democratic citizens, it still has powerful potential and global impact; in part because LAS education is primarily an indigenous phenomenon adapting to local circumstances. I also argue that U.S. universities could contribute more constructively to the movement if they conceived of their role as global civic actors that conduct themselves in the spirit of mutuality and reciprocity, not as multinational corporations that channel neoliberal tendencies to maximize revenue. U.S. critics of the global LAS movement should also pay heed to the United States’ own history. Specifically, they can learn from historically Black colleges and universities how, operating under the extreme authoritarianism of the Jim Crow era, they managed to produce leaders who shaped a more democratic country. Liberal arts education produces short term benefits for students and alumni, but in the democratic context it is a long-term wager.

In August 2021, the United States withdrew from Afghanistan, ending a twenty year war—the longest in American history. The past two decades of armed conflict, fought in complex environments among civilian populations, provided daily reminders of the ethical complexities of warfare. One concept that provides a promising path for reflection on such complexities is moral injury.

The current debate over the global distribution of COVID-19 vaccines once again highlights the many shortcomings of the modern intellectual property (IP) system, especially when it comes to equitable access to medicines. This essay argues that the (unspoken) conceptual center of struggles over access to new pharmaceuticals rests in the IP system's colonial legacy, which perceives the world as uncharted territory that is ripe for discovery and ownership. This vision of the world as a blank canvas, or terra nullius, sets aside any other models of ownership and devalues other traditional modes of relating to territory and nature. Several examples show the long-lasting exclusionary effects of this hidden legacy of colonial conquest in the field of public health, ranging from the spiraling price of insulin to the distribution of COVID-19 vaccines to the negotiation of sharing mechanisms for virus samples. In all of these cases, the continuing marginalization of other interests by the IP system can lead to exploitation, without either the “sources” of materials, such as those from whom the samples were taken, or the recipients of the eventual product having any say in matters of price and access. This legacy of fundamental exclusion needs to be recognized and addressed in order to arrive at more equitable solutions to public health emergencies such as the current pandemic.

Constitutional (liberal) democracy pursues an ambitious project. It weaves together majority rule and minority rights and encapsulates a political and institutional organization of public life deliberately orchestrated to guarantee and safeguard rights and freedoms, the peaceful resolution of social and political conflict, and the widest-possible participation of citizens in democratic self-rule. Critical for these goals are procedural mechanisms that enhance the responsiveness and accountability of elected officeholders, contain the power of the governing majority, enable the mutual checks and balances involved with institutional prerogatives, and allow citizens to periodically assess their representatives and, should they want to, select new ones. This vision crystallized in the second half of the twentieth century, in the aftermath of totalitarian monopartyism and the two world wars; it seemed destined for global hegemony after the end of the Cold War and—supposedly—of history. However, the present and future of constitutional, liberal democracies around the world looks less idyllic than the optimism seen at the turn of the century might have suggested. Even before the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic, debates about the wellbeing of liberal democratic regimes around the globe had been at the core of academic and public debates for at least a full decade.

Almost five million Americans volunteered to serve in the U.S. armed forces between 2001 and 2021 and returned home as discharged veterans. Among them, 30,177 men and women have taken their own lives, an awful toll that is more than five times the number of Americans killed in combat in our twenty-first century wars. As part of the roundtable, “Moral Injury, Trauma, and War,” this essay argues that the reasons are many, but one major factor may be the moral pain that many experience in wartime and the vast emptiness they often encounter when their military service ends. Our society has an obligation to the post–9/11 veterans to understand their experiences and truly welcome them back. The rising toll of veteran suicides suggests there is little time to lose.

Global governance ought to uphold global justice, a purpose that various institutions and instruments of global governance acknowledge more or less explicitly. Yet, to be effectively implemented, ethical principles of justice must first be “translated” into concrete policy. This formative and interpretive exercise—of determining what justice means and practically requires—leaves a lot of discretion to those making the interpretations, thereby raising important ethical dilemmas.

Authoritarian nationalism is on the rise in many countries around the world, threatening liberal democracies. Many on the left rightly fear that any and all celebrations of national identities risk heightening these dangers. It is questionable, however, whether illiberal nationalism can be defeated politically without some reliance on progressive stories of national identity that advance themes of equality, freedom, and inclusion in ways that resonate with many of the traditions in which those whom progressives seek to mobilize have been raised.

Moral injury names how the lived experience of armed conflict can damage an individual's ethical foundations, often with serious consequences. While the term has gained increasing acceptance for the clinical treatment of veterans and as a means of better understanding the impact of war, it is generally applied to individualized trauma. As part of the roundtable, “Moral Injury, Trauma, and War,” this essay argues that moral injury is also a useful means of addressing political violence at a societal level. It explores the term's value within international human rights discourse and practice, particularly in efforts to document and analyze the systematic commission of atrocities to achieve accountability and reconciliation. The essay presents field research among Iraqi human rights investigators as a means of reflecting on the value of rediscovering agency in the aftermath of societal trauma. In this way, moral injury provides guidance on the essential ethical qualities of the lived experience of violent repression, an issue central to a more complete understanding of international affairs.

This brief essay contrasts two modes of constitutional change: abusive constitutional projects that seek to erode democracy and restorative constitutional projects that aim to repair eroded democratic constitutional orders. Constitutional democracies are eroded and restored via the same mechanisms: formal processes of constitutional amendment and replacement, legislative amendment, changes to executive policies and practices (or respect for conventions), and processes of judicial decision-making. Under the right conditions, abusive uses of these mechanisms for antidemocratic ends can be reversed by prodemocratic or restorative uses. The more difficult question is what kinds of political discourses are most likely to sustain successful processes of democratic rebuilding. In recent work, we have pointed to the role sometimes played by liberal democratic discourses as purported justifications for processes of abusive constitutional change: we label this the rise of “abusive constitutional borrowing.” Less well understood are the kind of discourses likely to sustain successful democratic healing or rebuilding. Often, the most popular discourse is a restorative one, which focuses on repairing damage caused by authoritarians and returning to a constitutional status quo ante. In this essay, we discuss the advantages and disadvantages of restorative constitutionalism as a response to prior episodes of democratic erosion.

Abstract: Many societies are now having to live with the impacts of climate change and are being confronted with heat waves, wildfires, droughts, and rising sea levels. Without radical action, future generations will inherit an even more degraded planet. This raises the question: How can political institutions be reformed to promote justice for future generations and to leave them an ecologically sustainable world? In this essay, I address a particular version of this question; namely: How can supra–state institutions and transnational political processes be transformed to realize climate justice for future generations? The essay seeks to make two contributions. First, it considers what criteria should guide the evaluation of proposals for reform. It proposes four criteria, and analyzes how they should be interpreted and applied. Second, it considers a raft of different proposals, commenting on their strengths and weaknesses. It presents ten proposals in all, including, among others, establishing a UN high commissioner for future generations, appointing a UN special envoy for future generations, creating a UN agency mandated to protect future generations, instituting representatives for the future in all key UN bodies, ensuring greater youth participation in transnational political decision-making processes, and further developing a global citizens’ assembly. In short, my aim is to outline some of the options available and to defend a normative framework that we can use to evaluate them.

Several decades of scholarship on international nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) have established their important role in leading cosmopolitan political projects framed around moral ideals of global justice. But contemporary legitimacy crises in international liberalism call for a reexamination of NGOs’ global justice activism, considering how they should navigate the real-world moral contestations and shifting power dynamics that can impede their pursuit of justice. Recent work by deliberative-democratic theorists has argued that NGOs can help resolve disputes about global justice norms by facilitating legitimate communicative exchanges among the diverse political voices of subjected global communities on the correct interpretation and implementation of global justice norms. In response, this essay argues for an expanded account of the political roles of NGOs in global justice activism, which reflects greater sensitivity to the multifaceted political dynamics through which power in real-world global politics is constituted and contested. It is shown that in some NGOs’ real-world operational contexts, structural power imbalances and social division or volatility can undercut the operation of the ideal deliberative processes prescribed by democratic theory—calling for further attention to work focused on mitigating power imbalances, building solidarity, and organizing power in parallel or as a precursor to deliberative-democratic processes.

How should we understand the relationship between global justice and global democracy? One popular view is captured by the aphorism “No global justice without global democracy.” According to Dryzek and Tanasoca's reading of this aphorism, a particular form of deliberative global democracy is seen as the way to specify and justify what global justice is and requires in various contexts. Taking its point of departure in a criticism of this proposal, this essay analyzes how to best understand the relationship between global justice and global democracy. The aim is not to offer a first-order substantial account of this relationship, but to theorize the normative boundary conditions for such an account; that is, the conditions that any plausible theory should respect. These conditions take the form of what is here called a “three-layered view,” which is specified through three claims. It is argued, first, that global democracy is best seen as a partial normative ideal; second, that global democracy must be grounded in fundamental principles of justice; and third, that global democracy is an ideal through which applied principles of distributive justice are formulated and justified in light of reasonable disagreement about what justice requires.

We are in the early stages of a new “intergenerational turn” in political philosophy. This turn is largely motivated by the threat of global climate change, which makes vivid a serious governance gap surrounding concern for future generations. Unfortunately, there is a lack of fit between most proposed remedies and the nature of the underlying problem. Most notably, many seem to believe that only piecemeal, issue-specific, and predominantly national institutions are needed to fill the intergenerational governance gap. By contrast, I argue that we should adopt a genuinely global approach that treats intergenerational questions as foundational, and advocates for new permanent institutions with ongoing responsibilities to act on intergenerational threats. In this essay, I summarize my diagnosis of the underlying problem—that we face a basic standing threat that I call the “tyranny of the contemporary”—and sketch my proposal for a global constitutional convention aiming at institutions with standing authority and a broad remit. I then develop some of these ideas further through responses to fellow advocates for reform who nevertheless consider my proposals to go too far. In particular, I reject a counterproposal made by Anja Karnein, who argues that reforms should address only threats whose negative impacts would cross a high threshold. I argue that this would leave future generations vulnerable to what I call “squandering generations”. Among other things, these intergenerational squanderers violate appropriate relationships between past, present, and future generations. Yet, in my view, a central task of defensible intergenerational institutions is to protect the future against such abuse.

How does a democracy that has survived a close brush with authoritarianism start to recreate conditions of meaningful democratic political competition? What steps are to be taken, and in what order? Certain lessons can be gleaned from comparative experience with the challenges of “front-sliding”—that is, the process of rebuilding the necessary political, legal, epistemic, and sociological components of democracy. This essay maps out those challenges, examines the distinctive and difficult question of punishing individuals who have been drivers of democratic backsliding, and reflects on how to sequence different elements of front-sliding.

As part of the roundtable, “Moral Injury, Trauma, and War,” this essay explores the relationship between revisionist just war theory and moral injury. It proceeds in four sections. First, it offers a brief overview of the just war tradition, focusing on traditionalist and revisionist accounts, respectively. Next, it explores the relationship between moral injury and armed conflict. Then, it explores the links between moral injury and revisionist accounts of just war theory. Finally, by way of conclusion, the essay signals two potential complementary paths forward that future research could use to clarify the revisionist position and its link with moral injury.