The fact of religious pluralism is one of the most challenging questions for contemporary liberal democracies. Political theorists variously argue that religious belief and practice can be a support for prosocial morality, can cause social division, may prevent citizens from adopting important civic norms, or should simply be an area of civic competence. All of these positions carry significant consequences for democratic education. This chapter surveys a range of positions present in political theory and democratic education literature, drawing on historical and contemporary examples from Western democracies, particularly the American context. The chapter concludes by exploring the possibility that modern liberal democratic regimes are properly considered religious themselves, and by considering the implications of this notion for debates regarding democratic education.

Within liberal societies, citizens endorse a range of religious, moral, and philosophical views (e.g., Buddhism and utilitarianism). Despite this doctrinal diversity, John Rawls’ account of political liberalism holds that there is a form of democratic equality that is realizable by all citizens. Citizens can be equally politically autonomous if they enjoy equal political power and justify the exercise of that power with public reasons. A political liberal education for democratic citizenship would teach students how to participate in political decision-making, and how to use public reasons when helping to decide fundamental political questions. Political liberalism also can accommodate diverse educational options for families, but this accommodation is limited by political liberalism’s concern for the future political autonomy of students. This concern distinguishes the political liberal account from the “convergence” account of public justification. Unlike political liberalism, the convergence account fails to respect adequately the future political autonomy of students.

The problem of polarization – our growing inability to talk to each other across lines of disagreement – is the most fundamental challenge facing modern societies. The only viable response to this challenge is to identify a moral vocabulary that has more than one dimension, but whose dimensions are broad and coherent enough to provide a common point of orientation. This is what a liberal theory of freedom provides. Liberal freedom, like liberal society itself, has two distinct and complementary dimensions, which give rise to two distinct and complementary moral projects; on the one hand to create the social conditions under which we are fit to be held responsible for what we do, and on the other hand to carve out a domain of conduct within which we are not responsible to anyone else for what we do except by choice. Contractarianism, with its focus on identifying principles of justice that all reasonable people should accept, tends to exacerbate the problem of polarization that liberalism is best suited to solve.

Peirce’s concept of science entails that normative judgment in science, about which types of theory or explanation or evidence, etc., are good, must depend on the evidence provided by the experience of inquiring (Chapter 2), a thesis supported by the history of science (Chapter 3). This implies a method, at once empirical and normative, which Peirce’s late sketch of a trio of ’normative sciences’ (aesthetics, ethics, logic) generalizes and rationalizes. Its generalization is supported by Peirce’s expansion of empiricism (Chapter 7), and its rationalization depends on the rediscovery of final causation (Chapter 6). Although sketchy, Peirce’s idea of normative sciences is important; for its plausibility undermines that most pernicious of dichotomies, of fact and value. This chapter explicates Peirce’s idea of normative science, traces its method from Schiller’s aesthetics through Kant’s ethics, and suggests that the rediscovery of final causation corrects what is most problematic in Kant’s metaphysics of morals, viz., its anti-naturalism.

Chapter 2 critiques two prominent approaches to the question of difference and disagreement. Engaging with John Rawls and Jürgen Habermas’s accounts of “deliberative democracy,” the chapter first argues that discursive approaches to democracy “aim too high.” They overestimate the degree to which a basic “liberal public culture” is secure, and do not provide convincing accounts of how citizens can become (and continue to be) steadfast liberal democrats who will do what it takes to sustain liberal democracy. The chapter then probes “realist” approaches to democracy. Focusing on William Connolly and Chantal Mouffe’s accounts of “democratic agonism,” the chapter argues that realist approaches “aim too low.” They overestimate the ability of sound institutions to channel difference and disagreement, and do not adequately acknowledge the need for a sense of unity to prevent difference and disagreement from spiralling out of control. This chapter concludes that liberal democracy must be supported by a sense of unity that is oriented toward the preservation of liberal democracy and that does not unduly suppress difference and disagreement.

This chapter explores what apocalyptic thought shares with ideal theory, with a focus on our grounds for believing any proposed account of the ideal society. As John Rawls understands it, ideal theory is based on plausible reasons that others should accept, whereas religious belief is unsuitable to collectively guide society. Some, though, have questioned Rawls’s confidence in ideal theory, and this chapter draws on social science research to place these criticisms on firmer ground. It outlines an argument for why future uncertainty makes it impossible to offer a plausible defense of ideal theory. As a result, ideal theory, like religious belief, ultimately must rest on faith. Though ideal theory must abandon aspirations of outlining an ideal to collectively guide society, there is still a potential role for it as a source of utopian hope.

This chapter introduces the jurisprudence of Ronald Dworkin. It outlines the various components of his liberal individualistic theory and how this conceptualises group phenomena including religion. It notes how English law is largely based on this model, highlights its deficiencies as regards the regulation of religion, and traces its declining influence from 2016. It argues that liberal individualism is a suboptimal model on which to base the law of religion because it takes insufficient account of groups and civil society.

On one understanding of the concept, publicity deems it impermissible for public officials to hide the reasons and moral theories that inform their policy choices. As just one example of this, publicity forbids the utilitarian from cloaking her policy recommendations in terms of a moral theory other than utilitarianism. While this might seem like a compelling requirement at first, its proponents have offered little argument for it, as defenders of utilitarianism have been quick to point out. To remedy this, I try to rehabilitate the blanket ban on false rationales demanded by this understanding of publicity, relying on the work of Bernard Williams (himself a fierce critic of esoteric utilitarianism). None of the arguments recovered from Williams successfully rule out secret rationales on the part of public officials. This understanding of publicity, I conclude, lacks compelling justification.

John Rawls’s full publicity condition says that persons in the society the philosopher theorizes about must in some sense have access to everything the philosopher says in her theorizing. In other words, everyone living in Rawls’s perfectly just society must have access to A Theory of Justice and related works. This account of publicity is the most difficult to analyze because there are many different interpretations of what, precisely, it requires and also many different arguments in its favor. Not only this, but certain criticisms of Rawls that some deem fatal to his project depend on particular interpretations of this publicity condition that can quite reasonably be rejected. In the current chapter I show that, once again, we face deep trade-offs. Insisting on this account of publicity will change the way political philosophy must be done, but doing so will help achieve normatively worthwhile ends.

A famous legal maxim holds that “justice should not only be done but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done.” On one understanding of the concept, publicity demands that this maxim also apply to questions of social, or distributive, justice. Not only must a just distribution be achieved, but persons must see that a just distribution has been achieved. John Rawls is a defender of this requirement, along with democratic theorist Thomas Christiano. There are compelling arguments in defense of this understanding of publicity. The problem is that there are many different ways of understanding what it means to see distributive justice done, and they all come with significant drawbacks. Perhaps these philosophers are correct that distributive justice must be seen to be done, but letting it be seen will require that we give up other things of value. This chapter highlights these difficult choices.

The well-ordered society, according to John Rawls, is one that is regulated by principles of justice and in which everyone accepts these principles. One understanding of publicity takes this latter requirement a step further. According to Rawls, not only must everyone in the well-ordered society accept the same theory of justice, but publicity demands that everyone know that everyone else accepts this theory. Citizens’ beliefs about morality and justice must be transparent to one another. I examine this understanding of publicity in the current chapter. Why insist on such a requirement? I argue that the main reason has to do with social unity. If social unity in a diverse liberal order is to be achieved, then we must know what our fellow citizens believe about justice. The problem is that generating the knowledge required by this understanding of publicity is riddled with difficulties. I propose some mechanisms that might be capable of getting the job done. These mechanisms are, however, deeply imperfect.

This introductory chapter offers an overview of Secret Government: The Pathologies of Publicity. The book is split into two separate and autonomous parts, roughly tracking what I take to be two distinct traditions in political philosophy. Part I is focused on transparency as it relates to questions of institutional design. Part II focuses on publicity as it relates to the political philosophy of John Rawls and the liberal tradition he inspired. In conjunction, parts I and II jointly offer something like a comprehensive philosophical analysis of transparency in government.

This chapter argues that the approach to envy in political philosophy should radically shift. Envy has been taken to be a vice that should not motivate political ideals, and thus by implication should not motivate justice ideals. The post-Rawlsian discussion of envy in distributive justice, both in ideal and non-ideal theory, is influenced by too narrow a conception of envy and, more generally, by too abstract an approach to the political sphere. Thus, the chapter considers the role of political envy in all its varieties with regard to a central political issue of our times: racism and racial tensions. It argues that those who are racialized as “Asian” have been subjected to a special kind of racism, namely one that is colored by envy more than any other negative emotion. Both applications and limitations of the taxonomy of envy defended in the book are further explored with regard to such a political context. In the end, political envy might be harder to differentiate from political jealousy, which complicates even further the division between these emotions with which the book started.

Dividing moral questions into those of substantive ethics, what should I do, and those of metaethics, why should I do what I should do, the mechanistic/Darwinian approach has little novel to say at the level of substantive ethics. One possible exception is that it is doubted we have equal moral obligations to all humans indifferently. We have special obligations to our children and other family members, and more to our friends and our countrymen than to others. We have obligations to the starving poor in Africa, but charity begins at home. Metaethically, the Darwinian can offer no justification. That would be to violate the naturalistic fallacy, going from claims about matters to claims about values. For the Darwinian the world has not intrinsic value. This means that the Darwinian is a moral non-realist. It does not mean they have no substantive ethics, but that these are psychological not grounded in external supports, natural or non-natural (like Platonic forms or the will of God). We objectify morality, thinking substantive claims do have support, are objective, otherwise we would all begin to cheat and the whole system breaks down. Ultimately, however, face to face, Darwinism demands a dramatic rethinking of common sense and the assumption of the ages, at least in western civilization.

What it means to be other-regarding, its derivation from Kantian philosphy, and the veil of ignorance as a method of reasoning.