Worldly Ethics

democratic politics and care for the world

ella myers
W orldly Eth ics
​––​​
—

Democratic Politics and

Care for the World

E l l a MyE r s

Duke​university​Press
Durham​anD​LonDon 2013
 ©​2013​Duke​University​Press
All​rights​reserved
Printed​in​the​United​States​of​America​on​acid-​free​paper​♾
Designed​by​Heather​Hensley
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For​mark

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 Contents

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aCknowLeDgments  ix

introDuCtion
Tracing​the​Ethical​Turn 1

ChaPter​one
Crafting​a​Democratic​Subject?​​
The​Foucauldian​Ethics​of​Self-​Care 21

ChaPter​two
Levinasian​Ethics,​Charity,​and​Democracy 53

ChaPter​three
The​Democratic​Ethics​of​Care​for​Worldly​Things 85

ChaPter​Four
Partisanship​for​the​World:​Tending​to​the​World​​
as​Home​and​In-​Between 111

ePiLogue
Self/Other/World:​Forging​Connections​and​​
Fostering​Democratic​Care 139

notes  153

BiBLiograPhy  195

inDex  207
 aCknowLeDgments

​––​​
—

Though​writing​can​often​feel​like​a​solitary​pursuit,​I​am​quite​
aware​that​I​did​not​create​this​book​on​my​own.​I​am​deeply​
grateful​for​the​institutional​support,​intellectual​stimulation,​
and​plain​old​encouragement​I​have​received​along​the​way.
​ I​ most​ likely​ would​ never​ have​ found​ my​ way​ to​ politi-
cal​ theory​ or​ discovered​ its​ many​ pleasures​ and​ challenges​
were​it​not​for​the​tremendous​good​fortune​of​crossing​paths​
with​Peter​Euben​and​Wendy​Brown​early​in​my​undergradu-
ate​studies​at​the​University​of​California,​Santa​Cruz.​I​can​
still​recall​the​excitement​I​felt​every​time​I​attended​Euben’s​
legendary,​manic​“Political​Freedom”​class​and​the​inquisitive-
ness​ and​ ambition​ that​ Brown’s​ demanding​ seminars​ awak-
ened​in​me.​I​am​grateful​to​both​of​them​for​showing​me​what​
engaged​scholarship​and​teaching​look​like​and​for​encourag-
ing​me​to​see​graduate​school​and​an​academic​career​as​real​
possibilities​in​my​life.
​ I​began​this​project​at​Northwestern​University,​as​a​mem-
ber​of​a​lively​and​growing​political​theory​community​there.​
Linda​ Zerilli​ was​ an​ invaluable​ interlocutor​ and​ critic,​ tire-
lessly​reading​and​discussing​many​drafts​of​this​project​in​its​
early​ stages.​ Her​ rigorous​ intellectual​ engagement​ with​ my​
ideas​ was​ invigorating,​ flattering,​ and​ exhausting.​ My​ work​
today​is​better​for​it.​Bonnie​Honig​also​provided​sharp​com-
mentary​and​expert​guidance.​Her​original,​incisive​readings​
of​texts​and​events​always​push​me​to​consider​things​anew.​I​
am​especially​appreciative​of​Bonnie’s​ongoing​interest​in​my​
work​and​her​willingness​to​offer​practical​advice​in​addition​
to​sharp​conceptual​insights.
​ I​am​lucky​to​be​a​faculty​member​of​the​Political​Science​
Department​and​Gender​Studies​program​at​the​University​of​Utah,​where​
I​am​surrounded​by​talented​and​interesting​colleagues​and​students.​I​am​
especially​indebted​to​Mark​Button,​who​read​the​complete​manuscript​
and​offered​characteristically​probing​and​careful​comments.​I​am​grate-
ful​for​our​many​conversations​over​the​past​several​years​and​for​the​re-
assuring​words​he​has​offered​at​crucial​moments.​Steve​Johnston,​a​more​
recent​arrival​to​our​department,​has​brought​great​energy​with​him,​and​
I​look​forward​to​our​exchanges​in​the​future.​Many​other​colleagues​from​
across​campus​have​also​become​good​friends.​Matt​Basso,​Beth​Clement,​
Ben​Cohen,​Kellie​Custen,​Gretchen​Dietrich,​Nadja​Durbach,​Edmund​
Fong,​Lela​Graybill,​Monty​Paret,​Richard​Preiss,​Paisley​Rekdal,​Angela​
Smith,​Kathryn​Stockton,​and​Jessica​Straley​have​all​helped​make​Salt​
Lake​feel​like​home,​providing​not​only​intellectual​companionship​but​
warm​ meals,​ laughter,​ and​ commiseration.​ Finally,​ my​ students​ have​
helped​ me​ think​ differently​ and​ better​ about​ the​ questions​ pursued​ in​
this​book,​and​they​have​reliably​kept​me​on​my​toes.
​ Many​other​people​have​played​an​important​role​in​helping​this​book​
see​the​light​of​day.​In​addition​to​those​I’ve​already​mentioned,​I​want​to​
acknowledge​Paul​Apostolidis,​Crina​Archer,​Jason​Frank,​Michael​Han-
chard,​and​Patchen​Markell—all​of​whom​have​read​and​commented​on​
parts​of​the​project​at​various​points,​posing​tough​questions​and​offering​
fruitful​suggestions.​Thanks​also​to​two​anonymous​readers​who​provided​
astute,​provocative,​and​very​helpful​comments​on​the​manuscript.​My​
work​has​been​shaped​in​ways​big​and​small​by​discussions​over​the​years​
with​ Cristina​ Beltrán,​ Michaele​ Ferguson,​ Kristy​ King,​ Jill​ Locke,​ Lida​
Maxwell,​Sara​Monoson,​Jeanne​Morefield,​Chris​Skeaff,​Matt​Voorhees,​
and​Lena​Zuckerwise.​Demetra​Kasimis​deserves​special​mention​for​the​
many​hours​she​has​spent​discussing​this​project​and​for​providing​good​
cheer​when​most​needed.
​ Earlier​versions​of​some​of​this​book’s​arguments​were​presented​at​the​
American​Political​Science​Association​meetings​in​2007​and​2009​and​at​
the​Western​Political​Science​Association​meetings​in​2009​and​2011.​Part​
of​chapter​1​was​published​as​“Resisting​Foucauldian​Ethics:​Associative​
Politics​and​the​Limits​of​the​Care​of​the​Self”​in​Contemporary Political
Theory​7,​no.​2​(2008),​and​I​am​grateful​for​permission​to​use​this​ma-
terial​here.​I​am​thankful​for​critical​financial​support​I​received​from​the​
University​of​Utah.​A​semester’s​leave​allowed​me​to​complete​the​first​full​
draft​of​the​manuscript,​and​a​Faculty​Fellow​Award​from​the​University​

Acknowledgments
—
x
Research​Committee​at​precisely​the​right​moment​allowed​me​to​revise​
and​polish​the​final​version.​Thanks​also​to​Duke​University​Press,​espe-
cially​to​my​editor,​Courtney​Berger,​who​has​been​supportive,​responsive,​
and​wise.
​ As​I​have​worked​on​this​project​I​have​been​sustained​by​extraordi-
nary​friends​whose​intelligence,​humor,​and​care​have​seen​me​through.​
I​especially​thank​Paul​Adelstein,​Tony​Bianchi,​Mike​Bosia,​Phil​Dracht​
and​Heather​Huffman-​Dracht,​Jason​Given,​Roshen​Hendrickson,​Mar-
tine​ Hyland,​ Demetra​ Kasimis,​ Nick​ Markos,​ Jon​ McCoy,​ Paul​ North,​
Christine​Pirrone,​Laura​Scott,​Mike​and​Heather​Simons,​David​Singer,​
Friese​Undine,​Liza​Weil,​and​Eva​Yusa.​Thanks​also​to​my​sister,​Brooke​
Myers-​Awalt,​for​listening,​understanding,​and​being​hilarious.​I​want​to​
thank​my​parents,​Robyn​Wagner​and​Tom​Myers,​for​their​love​and​sup-
port​and​for​fostering​in​me​a​sense​of​curiosity,​a​love​of​books,​and​a​
desire​to​keep​learning.​And​to​Solomon,​who​arrived​as​this​project​was​
coming​to​completion:​my​gratitude​for​your​smile,​your​sweet​curiosity,​
and​all​the​surprises​to​come.
​ Finally,​I​owe​the​most​to​Mark​Schwarz.​I​dedicate​this​book​to​him​
in​ appreciation​ of​ the​ wit,​ patience,​ and​ warmth​ he​ brings​ to​ our​ life​
together.​He​has​always​believed​unwaveringly​in​this​project​and,​even​
more​important,​in​me,​with​or​without​a​book.​His​distinctive​voice​and​
vision​make​the​world​more​intriguing​and​my​place​in​it​more​sure.

Acknowledgments
—
xi
 introDuCtion

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—

traci ng th E Eth ical tu rn

The​ category​ of​ ethics​ is​ ascendant​ in​ recent​ democratic​

thought—that​much​is​clear.​Even​a​brief​review​of​contem-
porary​political​theory​reveals​a​development​notable​enough​
to​have​garnered​a​name:​the​“turn​to​ethics.”1​This​phrase,​
though​helpful,​is​also​misleading​since​it​suggests​a​unified​
phenomenon,​an​implication​belied​by​the​multiple,​compet-
ing​understandings​of​ethics​and​ethos​that​shape​the​current​
conversation.​The​prevalence​of​an​ethical​vocabulary​is​un-
deniable,​but​this​signals​less​the​pursuit​of​a​common​purpose​
than​a​struggle​over​signification.
​ Still,​ one​ feature​ of​ contemporary​ democratic​ theory’s​
multivalent​obsession​with​ethics​is​striking.​Again​and​again,​
across​work​taking​inspiration​from​highly​disparate​sources,​
ethics​emerges​as​an​indispensable​treatment​for​a​crippled​
democratic​politics.2​That​is,​despite​divergent​ conceptions,​
ethics​is​cast​as​a​response​to​(sometimes​ill-​specified)​prob-
lems​plaguing​democracy​today.​Ethics​is​figured​repeatedly​
as​an​animating​supplement​to​politics,​supplying​democracy​
with​something​it​cannot​give​itself​but​urgently​requires.​In-
deed,​perhaps​the​only​belief​uniting​the​diverse​work​identi-
fied​with​the​turn​to​ethics​is​the​conviction​that​ethics​con-
stitutes​that​missing​something​that​can​help​cure​what​ails​
democratic​life.​This​conviction​increasingly​circulates​in​non-
academic​circles​as​well—ethos​figures​prominently​in​mainstream​diag-
noses​of​the​ills​afflicting​liberal​democracies.3
​ This​ book​ provides​ a​ sympathetic​ critique​ of​ the​ quest​ for​ a​ demo-
cratic​ ethos,​ cautioning​ against​ the​ directions​ this​ search​ often​ takes,​
while​ seeking​ to​ forge​ a​ different​ path.​ I​ affirm​ the​ significance​ of​ the​
democratic​ ethos​ question,​ yet​ I​ argue​ that​ prominent​ efforts​ to​ spec-
ify​an​ethics​suited​to​democracy​are,​in​the​end,​not​especially​demo-
cratic.​ Formulations​ of​ ethics​ inspired​ by​ the​ work​ of​ Michel​ Foucault​
and​Emmanuel​Levinas,​I​show,​are​inclined​to​undermine,​rather​than​
enhance,​citizens’​democratic​activity.​These​therapeutic​and​charitable​
modes​of​ethics,​which​center​on​care​for​the​self​and​care​for​the​Other,​
respectively,​may​be​admirable​in​their​own​right,​but,​despite​claims​to​
the​contrary,​they​are​ill-​equipped​to​nourish​associative​democratic​poli-
tics.​The​dyadic​relations​that​are​labeled​ethical​in​both​of​these​cases​
narrow​attention​to​the​figures​of​self​and​Other​and​obscure​the​worldly​
contexts​that​are​the​actual​sites​and​objects​of​democratic​action.
​ I​elaborate​and​defend​here​an​alternative​ethos,​one​which​focuses​not​
on​an​individual’s​practice​of​care​for​the​self​or​care​for​the​Other,​but​on​
contentious​and​collaborative​care​for​the​world,​an​idea​I​develop​with​
and​ against​ Hannah​ Arendt’s​ political​ theory.​ The​ worldly​ ethics​ advo-
cated​here​rests,​first,​on​an​account​of​democratic​relations​that​high-
lights​the​sense​in​which​citizens’​joint​action​concerns​something​in​the​
world,​a​simultaneously​common​and​contested​object​that​is​the​focus​of​
mutual​attention,​advocacy,​and​debate.​A​viable​democratic​ethics​hon-
ors​this​dynamic,​recognizing​that​democratic​relations​are​never​simply​
intersubjective​but​involve​relations​between​multiple​actors​and​specific​
features​of​the​world​they​struggle​to​shape.​A​world-​centered​democratic​
ethos​aims​to​incite​and​sustain​collective​care​for​conditions,​care​that​is​
expressed​in​associative​efforts​to​affect​particular​“worldly​things.”​More-
over,​this​ethos​is​tied​to​an​explicitly​normative​conception​of​world​as​
both​a​shared​human​home​and​mediating​political​space.​Thus​care​for​
the​world,​which​lies​at​the​heart​of​democratic​ethos,​is​expressed​not​
only​by​associative​action​that​tends​to​conditions​but​also​by​action​that​
pursues​particular​substantive​ends.
​ We​must​first​ask,​however,​what​gives​rise​to​the​turn​to​ethics​in​re-
cent​democratic​thought?​If,​as​I​argue,​this​move​often​falters,​it​is​none-
theless​prompted​by​genuine​concerns​of​the​present.​Two​broad​condi-
tions​are​especially​significant,​in​my​view,​providing​the​context​in​which​

Introduction
—
2
the​question​of​democratic​ethos​has​been​posed:​widespread​citizen​dis-
engagement​within​the​U.S.​polity​and​the​so-​called​fact​of​pluralism.​The​
first,​well-​documented​situation​is​characterized​by​Americans’​low​levels​
of​ participation​ across​ multiple​ sites​ and​ forms​ of​ citizen​ activity.​ The​
growing​disaffection​of​many​and​the​seeming​withdrawal​of​large​seg-
ments​of​the​population​from​public​life​throw​into​question​the​basic​
premise​of​self-​government.​It​also​creates​a​vacuum​that​tends​to​be​filled​
by​the​most​extreme​and​dogmatic​voices,​which​threaten​to​monopolize​
or​at​least​greatly​distort​public​discourse.​In​light​of​these​circumstances,​
the​concept​of​democratic​ethos​emerges​as​a​way​of​thinking​about​what​
can​inspire​or​motivate​ordinary​citizens’​participation​in​democratic​poli-
tics.​Efforts​to​define​an​ethics​for​democracy​are​usually​concerned​with​
elaborating​sensibilities​or​orientations​that,​if​fostered,​might​draw​more​
people​into​democratic​activity.​The​challenge​is,​furthermore,​to​develop​
orientations​ that​ can​ encourage​ impassioned​ participation​ in​ the​ diffi-
cult,​frustrating​labor​of​democratic​politics​while​avoiding​the​vitriol​and​
demonization​that​characterize​so​much​political​debate​today.
​ The​belief​that​ethics​of​one​kind​or​another​can​inspire​and​nourish​
democratic​politics​relies​upon​an​implicit​understanding​of​politics​as​ir-
reducible​to​the​formal​features​of​government—a​regime’s​institutions,​
laws,​ and​procedures.​ Indeed,​ the​inquiry​ into​ ethos​ asks​ one​to​think​
about​the​spirit​of​democracy,​that​is,​the​constellation​of​dispositions,​
habits​of​feeling,​and​qualities​of​character​that​serve​to​animate​and​sus-
tain​practices​of​self-​government.​If​this​spirit​is​in​some​sense​weakened​
or​even​missing​today,​how​might​it​be​cultivated?4​What​affects​or​sensi-
bilities​does​it​call​for?​And​can​such​qualities​be​fostered​among​a​varied​
citizenry​in​ways​that​respect​diversity​and​liberty?​The​search​for​ethics​
is​at​least​partly​a​response​to​a​nominally​democratic​order​characterized​
by​only​minimal​democratic​activity.
​ The​second​important​context​for​understanding​the​proliferation​of​
ethics​talk​is​what​Max​Weber​referred​to​at​the​beginning​of​the​twen-
tieth​century​as​our​“inescapable​condition,”​or​what​today​often​goes​by​
the​name​“the​fact​of​pluralism.”​Growing​recognition​of​the​competing​
and​irreconcilable​goods,​faiths,​and​ways​of​life​that​characterize​human​
existence​has​thrown​into​question​the​idea​of​a​single​morality​that​would​
ground​political​life.​In​light​of​this​development,​the​topic​of​ethics​has​
assumed​new​importance.​If​politics​can​no​longer​be​imagined​as​the​
instantiation​of​a​universal​Good​in​a​world​marked​by​multiple,​incom-

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
3
patible​comprehensive​views,​the​ideas​of​ethics​and​ethos​seem​to​open​
up​ways​of​thinking​about​the​normative​dimensions​of​politics​in​non-
absolutist​ways.​The​foray​into​ethics​signals​an​attempt​to​wrestle​with​
questions​of​value,​character,​and​commitment​in​a​pluralist​age.
​ But​if​the​inquiry​into​ethics​is​partly​in​response​to​the​fact​of​plural-
ism,​now​widely​accepted​as​the​starting​point​for​political​theorizing,​this​
investigation​should​be​distinguished​from​the​influential​work​of​Jürgen​
Habermas​and​John​Rawls​and​their​intellectual​heirs,​which​also​presents​
pluralism​as​the​starting​point.​Although​both​Habermas​and​Rawls​treat​
the​existence​of​multiple,​irreconcilable​comprehensive​doctrines​or​con-
ceptions​of​the​good​life​as​a​given,​each​responds​to​this​condition​in​
ways​that​the​turn​to​ethics​challenges.
​ On​the​one​hand,​Habermas​acknowledges​that​no​single​answer​to​the​
question​of​the​good​life​is​possible;​answers​to​that​question​are​rooted​
in​particular​traditions​and​cultures​that​diverge​and​conflict​without​the​
promise​of​reconciliation.​Yet​he​also​claims​that​a​moral​point​of​view​
can​ be​ attained​ through​ fidelity​ to​ a​ special​ procedure​ of​ justification.​
This​moral​point​of​view​is​rational​and​universal,​irreducible​to​concrete​
forms​of​Sittlichkeit,​or​ethical​life.5​Habermas​acknowledges​a​multiplicity​
of​ethical​values​and​corresponding​ways​of​life​as​the​lot​of​modernity,​yet​
this​ethical​plurality​is​qualified​and​limited​by​a​proceduralist​morality​
that​retains​for​liberal-​democratic​politics​a​form​of​universal​normativity.​
Rawls,​on​the​other​hand,​famously​endeavors​in​his​later​work​to​provide​
a​political,​rather​than​moral,​justification​for​his​conception​of​justice,​
one​which​remains​neutral​between​competing​moral​outlooks.​The​fact​
of​pluralism​itself​leads​Rawls​to​alter​his​theory​of​justice​in​such​a​way​
that​its​justification​is​held​to​be​independent​of​any​comprehensive​moral​
ideal.​Justice​as​fairness​does​not​aspire​to​universality​but​is​instead,​ac-
cording​to​Rawls,​self-​consciously​rooted​in​a​particular​historical​con-
text,​that​of​modern​constitutional​democracy.​But​while​Rawls​seeks​to​
avoid​the​moral​universalism​that​Habermas​retains,​his​nonmetaphysi-
cal​account​of​justice​includes​a​defense​of​“public​reason”​that​strictly​
limits​the​expression​of​pluralism​in​political​life.​Although​the​nuances​
of​Rawlsian​public​reason​continue​to​be​heavily​debated,​its​function​is​
clear:​it​specifies​the​kind​of​reason​giving​and​argumentation​that​Rawls​
holds​should​and​should​not​characterize​public​debate​in​a​diverse,​lib-
eral​society.6​Under​conditions​of​pluralism,​Rawls​writes,​“there​are​many​
nonpublic​reasons​but​only​one​public​reason.”7

Introduction
—
4
​ The​turn​to​ethics​in​postfoundational​democratic​theory​takes​plural-
ism​as​a​point​of​departure,​then,​but​its​orientation​toward​this​fact​is​
distinctive​from​both​Habermasian​and​Rawlsian​approaches​in​two​pri-
mary​ ways.8​ First,​ when​ ethics​ of​ one​ kind​ or​ another​ is​ offered​ up​ as​
nourishment​for​democratic​life,​the​gesture​usually​disavows​more​con-
ventional​forms​of​morality.​Work​that​draws​on​Foucault​and​Levinas,​
for​example,​presents​ethics​as​an​explicit​challenge​to​morality,​however​
formal​or​procedural.​Indeed,​ethics​in​this​vein​is​sometimes​called​post-​
moral​in​recognition​of​its​departure​from​familiar​moral​traditions​that​
are​thought​to​deny​or​do​violence​to​the​plurality​of​values,​goods,​and​
faiths.​Speaking​very​schematically,​ethics​is​understood​to​be​more​par-
ticular​and​affective​than​universal,​reason-​governed​models​of​morality.​
While​conventional​moralities​tend​to​aspire​to​the​status​of​law,​ethics​
privileges​the​cultivation​of​dispositions​over​rule-​following,​suggesting​a​
way​of​being​in​the​world​that​cannot​be​formulated​in​codified,​univer-
sal​terms.9​Second,​the​pursuit​of​post-​moral​ethics​is​usually​understood​
as​an​effort​to​expand,​rather​than​contain,​the​expression​of​pluralism​in​
public​life.​For​thinkers​like​William​Connolly,​Judith​Butler,​and​Simon​
Critchley,​for​example,​who​draw​on​Foucauldian​and​Levinasian​ethics​
in​support​of​radicalized​democracy​(and​whose​work​I​address​in​the​fol-
lowing​chapters),​the​task​is​not​primarily​understood​to​be​one​of​limit-
ing​the​presence​of​pluralism​in​political​debate​and​decision​making.10​
Instead,​the​aim​is​to​conceptualize​and​develop​the​qualities​of​charac-
ter​and​habits​of​feeling​that​might​enable​lively​and​respectful​exchange​
across​deep​difference,​fostering​even​further​pluralization​of​collective​
life.​What​virtues,​they​ask,​might​guide​and​animate​citizen​action​in​a​
liberal-​democratic​polity​marked​by​competing​and​irreconcilable​com-
prehensive​views,​which​are​not​and​cannot​be​left​at​the​door?11
​ If​the​search​for​a​democratic​ethos​is​motivated​largely​by​these​dis-
tinctive​problems​of​the​present,​we​can​see​that​it​also​revives​some​very​
old​ concerns​ within​ political​ theory.​ Although​ the​ history​ of​ political​
thought​does​not​offer​any​simple​consensus​on​the​matter,​it​reveals​a​
persistent​preoccupation​with​the​question​of​how​ethics​might​be​con-
nected​to​politics,​a​preoccupation​that​spans​time​and​competing​intel-
lectual​traditions.​Several​important​strands​of​that​lineage,​including​an-
cient,​civic​republican,​and​liberal,​constitute​the​backdrop​against​which​
the​latest​inquiry​into​ethos​is​taking​place.
​ Most​ notably,​ the​ recent​ reappearance​ of​ the​ term​ ethos​ in​political​

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
5
theory​points​to​its​original​ancient​Greek​context,​in​which​ethos,​“the​
characteristic​spirit,​prevalent​tone​of​sentiment,​of​a​people​or​a​commu-
nity,”​was​understood​to​be​a​crucial​complement​to​nomos.12​Together,​
they​were​thought​to​constitute​a​“universalizing​pair”​in​which​the​prin-
ciples​ of​ order,​ written​ and​ unwritten,​ were​ joined​ with​ a​ particular,​
shared​sensibility.13​The​Greeks’​defining​belief​in​a​mutually​influential​
relationship​ between​ city​ and​ soul,​ elegantly​ captured​ in​ Plato’s​ refer-
ences​to​“the​politeia​of​the​soul,”​was​informed​by​the​conviction​that​the​
soul,​though​belonging​to​an​individual,​was​shaped​and​directed​by​the​
surrounding​political​order,​consisting​of​both​official​institutions​and​a​
communal​spirit​or​character,​nomos​and​ethos,​which​together​served​
as​a​source​of​moral​education​for​its​members.​“Soulcraft”​was​closely​
bound​ up​ with​ the​ organization​ of​ collective​ life,​ in​ both​ its​ legal​ and​
extralegal​ dimensions.​ Ethos​ in​ this​ context​ referred​ neither​ to​ a​ code​
of​rules​nor​to​an​attribute​of​the​individual,​but​to​a​distinctive,​shared​
way​of​being​that​complemented​but​was​irreducible​to​the​government’s​
formal​structure.​In​the​work​of​Plato,​Aristotle,​and​other​thinkers​of​the​
period,​ethos​connotes​disposition,​character,​and​bearing,​understood​in​
collective​rather​than​strictly​personal​terms​and​held​to​be​susceptible​to​
purposeful​shaping​and​cultivation.14​The​ethos​of​a​city​or​constitution​
was​its​“moral​ambience,”​coloring​a​whole​way​of​life​and​exerting​an​im-
portant​influence​on​the​children​reared​there.15
​ The​ belief​ that​ political​ life​ is​ inevitably​ inhabited​ by​ an​ ethos​ also​
characterizes​the​civic​republican​tradition,​which​approaches​the​topic​
largely​ through​ the​ conceptual​ vocabulary​ of​ civic​ virtue.​ Republican​
thinkers​regard​such​virtue​as​fundamental​to​sound​citizenship,​insist-
ing​that​a​healthy​republic​depends​not​only​on​well-​designed​institutions​
capable​of​upholding​the​rule​of​law,​but​also​on​citizens’​qualities​of​char-
acter,​which​orient​them​toward​pursuit​of​the​public​good.​While​the​tra-
dition​ranging​from​Cicero​to​Machiavelli​to​Tocqueville​is​far​from​uni-
fied,​the​attention​devoted​to​the​question​of​citizens’​“habits​of​the​heart”​
is​one​of​its​defining​features.16​Inspired​by​classical​thought​and​practice,​
republicans​understand​the​formation​of​subjects​to​be​a​central​problem​
for​politics.​According​to​Tocqueville,​for​example,​American​institutions​
of​self-​government​both​cultivated​and​required​citizens​who​shared​cer-
tain​dispositions​and​orientations,​such​as​a​felt​sense​of​collective​respon-
sibility​and​a​spirit​of​continual​improvement.​From​the​civic​republican​
vantage​point​politics​and​ethics​are​distinguishable,​with​politics​refer-

Introduction
—
6
ring​to​a​community’s​institutional​ arrangements​ and​ethics​to​its​citi-
zens’​character​and​sensibilities,​but​they​are​necessarily​bound​up​with​
one​another​in​a​relation​of​reciprocal​influence​and​together​constitute​a​
society’s​political​culture.
​ Finally,​ although​ not​ always​ as​ readily​ recognized,​ liberal​ thought​
through​the​ages​has​focused​attention​on​those​qualities​of​character​or​
ethical​preconditions​thought​to​make​a​successful​liberal​order​possible​
and​investigated​how​these​might​be​encouraged.​An​anemic​account​of​
liberalism,​according​to​which​liberals​are​entirely​unconcerned​with​the​
good​life​and​seek​only​an​impartial​umpire​in​government,​still​circu-
lates,​despite​the​difficulty​of​finding​any​liberal​thinker,​past​or​present,​
who​actually​articulates​such​a​position.​Yet​many​contemporary​liberals​
affirm​the​significance​of​citizen​virtue​to​present-​day​liberal​orders​and​
have​brought​to​light​the​extent​to​which​canonical​liberal​political​theory​
has​been​concerned​with​its​own​version​of​civic​virtue​from​the​start.17​
Peter​Berkowitz,​for​example,​has​shown​that​the​achievement​of​a​lib-
eral​way​of​life​for​Hobbes,​Locke,​Kant,​and​Mill,​among​others,​depends​
upon​certain​virtues​which​are​not​automatically​generated​by​liberalism’s​
central​institutions​and​which​are​sometimes​even​discouraged​by​them.18​
Similarly,​Mark​Button​has​convincingly​argued​that​the​social​contract,​
so​central​to​liberal​thought​from​its​inception​to​today,​is​more​than​a​de-
vice​for​conceptualizing​legitimacy​(as​is​usually​assumed).​It​also​serves​
to​theorize​a​“transformative​ethos”​that​can​foster​in​citizens​the​“civic​
character”​and​“ethical​sensibility”​that​a​liberal​order​requires.19​What​
Berkowitz,​Button,​and​others​help​identify​is​less​a​unified​account​of​
liberal​virtues​across​thinkers​than​a​shared​conviction​that​there​are​such​
virtues,​quite​variously​defined,​and​that​their​cultivation​is​a​difficult​but​
pressing​question​for​liberals.​The​abiding​interest​in​an​ethics​that​ani-
mates​liberal​politics​is​complicated,​however,​by​liberalism’s​core​com-
mitment​to​individual​liberty​and​skepticism​toward​government​intru-
sion.​Liberal​thought​is​characterized​by​simultaneous​enthusiasm​for​and​
aversion​to​virtue.20​Without​discounting​this​ambivalence,​it​is​important​
to​acknowledge​that​enthusiasm​for​virtue,​sometimes​overlooked,​is​a​
prominent​feature​of​liberal​political​theory.​The​inquiry​into​ethos​and​
its​role​in​political​life​is​integral,​then,​not​only​to​classical​and​civic​re-
publican​thought​but​also​to​liberal​philosophy.
​ When​thinkers​today​turn​to​ethics​or​ethos​(usually​used​interchange-
ably)​to​address​contemporary​democracy,​they​tap​into​these​traditions.​

Tracing the Ethical Turn

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7
They​draw​on​ancient​Greek​insights,​for​example,​even​as​they​put​them​
in​the​service​of​visions​of​political​life​that​bear​little​resemblance​to​the​
classical​polis.​Most​significant,​they​take​their​bearings​from​the​ancient​
conviction​that​character​and​disposition​matter​politically,​that​is,​by​the​
belief​that​a​polity​is​irreducible​to​its​formal​features.​From​this​perspec-
tive,​every​political​community​is​shaped,​for​good​or​ill,​by​its​collective​
spirit​no​less​than​by​its​laws.​Many​contemporary​democratic​theorists,​
explicitly​or​not,​are​returning​to​an​ancient​concern​and​affirming​the​
Greek​notion​that​“just​as​the​ethe​and​the​nomoi​of​a​city​are​closely​con-
nected,​so​too​the​study​of​‘ethics’​is​itself​a​part​of​‘politics.’”21
​ Likewise,​the​quest​for​a​democratic​ethos​revives​a​central​feature​of​
republican​thought​by​asking​after​the​habits​of​the​heart​that​could​en-
able​more​robust,​respectful​forms​of​participation​by​a​broader​range​of​
citizens​in​a​diversifying​American​polity.​Contemporary​thinkers​seek-
ing​an​ethics​for​democracy​are​reimagining​civic​virtue​for​the​present,​
exploring​which​sensibilities​and​orientations​can​prepare​citizens​for​co-
action​with​one​another​and​how​these​virtues,​which​seem​to​be​in​rather​
short​supply,​might​be​promoted​under​current​conditions.​At​the​same​
time,​proponents​of​the​turn​to​ethics,​though​focused​on​the​question​of​
cultivation,​evince​some​of​liberalism’s​ambivalence,​remaining​alert​to​
the​danger​of​paternalism​that​attends​any​effort​to​shape​citizens’​charac-
ter.​Theorists​of​democratic​ethos​strive​to​conceptualize​a​kind​of​moral​
education​ that​ avoids​ normalization​ and,​ further,​ actually​ aids​ plurali-
zation.
​ Given​the​extent​to​which​contemporary​democratic​theory​builds​on​
these​prior​strands​of​political​thought,​it​is​tempting​to​label​the​turn​
to​ethics​a​return​to​ethics.​Yet​while​ancient​and​modern​influences​are​
undeniable,​recent​inquiries​into​ethics​are​not​simply​continuous​with​
earlier​modes​of​thought.​Most​important,​ancient​and​civic​republican​
sources​connected​ethos​and​civic​virtue,​respectively,​to​fairly​homoge-
neous​and​self-​contained​political​communities,​characterized​largely​by​
face-​to-​face​relations​within​relatively​small​territories.22​The​question​of​
ethos​today​takes​its​bearings​from​a​very​different​set​of​conditions,​as​
the​previous​discussion​of​pluralism​noted,​and​asks​whether​the​idea​of​
citizen​virtue​can​be​adapted​and​reimagined​for​a​diverse,​mobile,​and​
expansive​society.​Are​there​certain​habits​of​the​heart​uniquely​suited​to​
the​practice​of​democratic​politics​among​a​vast,​heterogeneous,​increas-

Introduction
—
8
ingly​globalized​citizenry?23​And​can​desirable​dispositions​be​nurtured​in​
ways​that​protect​and​extend​plurality​rather​than​seek​monistic​unity?
​ While​proponents​of​the​ethical​turn​answer​these​questions​affirma-
tively,​today’s​search​for​a​democratic​ethos​is​not​without​its​critics.​I​
want​to​clarify​the​nature​of​these​objections​and​explain​why​my​project​
critically​participates​in,​rather​than​rejects​outright,​the​ethical​turn.
​ A​major​charge​leveled​by​skeptics​at​those​seeking​an​ethics​for​democ-
racy​is​that​such​efforts​are​poorly​disguised​exercises​in​moral​absolut-
ism.​That​is,​while​ethics​is​usually​presented​as​a​less​rigid​alternative​
to​conventional​forms​of​morality,​some​critics​of​the​ethical​turn​allege​
that​the​attempt​to​locate​an​ethics​for​democracy​expresses​the​desire​to​
ground​democracy​in​an​extrapolitical​foundation.24​For​example,​Ernesto​
Laclau​argues​that​“ethicization”​reverts​to​a​discourse​of​“first​philoso-
phy.”​To​seek​an​ethics​for​democracy​is​to​seek​an​ultimate​authority​be-
yond​political​practice;​it​is​an​attempt​to​evade​politics’​“radical​contin-
gency.”25​Chantal​Mouffe​voices​a​similar​concern​when​she​claims​that​
the​tendency​among​contemporary​democratic​theorists​to​adopt​an​ethi-
cal​vocabulary​is​driven​by​the​fantasy​of​a​“final​guarantee”​that​autho-
rizes​political​arrangements.​The​hunt​for​ethics,​she​avers,​is​the​hunt​for​
a​“more​profound​or​more​solid”​ground​than​“the​practices,​the​language​
games​that​are​constitutive​of​[a]​particular​form​of​life.”26
​ The​worry​is​not​just​that​proponents​of​the​ethical​turn​posit​a​ground​
where​ there​ is​ none,​ but​ that​ the​ preoccupation​ with​ the​ category​ of​
ethics,​however​soothing,​signals​a​very​real​“contraction​of​political​am-
bitions.”27​Wendy​Brown,​for​example,​warns​against​the​temptation​to​
embrace​a​moralizing​imperative​that​substitutes​for​engagement​in​the​
messy,​frustrating​work​of​struggling​for​power,​with​and​against​others,​
in​the​field​of​politics.28​Like​Mouffe,​who​labels​the​turn​to​ethics​“a​re-
treat​from​the​political,”​George​Shulman​argues​that​part​of​the​allure​
of​ethics​is​its​apparent​promise​of​a​truth​that​precedes​or​is​external​to​
political​contestation—a​truth​that​would​seem​to​relieve​citizens​of​the​
difficult​work​of​organizing​together​to​make​public​demands​and​mobi-
lizing​others​on​behalf​of​the​demands​they​advocate.29​He​notes​further​
that​the​obsession​with​ethics​is​a​symptom​of​despair​over​the​prospects​
for​such​collective​action​today.​Perhaps​there​is​comfort​in​the​thought​
that​one’s​task​consists​in​affirming​the​right​ethical​outlook,​from​which​
desirable​political​consequences​will​hopefully​follow.​When​“action​in​

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
9
concert”​appears​to​be​rare​or​unlikely,30​we​may​be​attracted​to​the​notion​
that​democracy​can​be​rescued​by​something​other​than​itself,​namely,​the​
discovery​of​the​proper​ethics.31
​ Although​these​claims​are​compelling,​it​is​a​mistake​to​dismiss​the​
turn​to​ethics​as​a​dead​end.​Rather​than​eschew​the​category​of​ethics​
in​the​name​of​the​autonomy​of​the​political​or​insist​upon​the​primacy​
of​politics,​this​project​interrogates,​but​also​contributes​to,​democratic​
theory’s​investigation​of​ethos.​The​critics​cited​earlier​are​partly​correct:​
the​turn​to​ethics​can​assume​absolutist​forms​and​at​times​does​signal​an​
attempt​to​evade​the​realities​of​democratic​struggle,​points​I​have​insisted​
upon​elsewhere.32​But​this​is​not​necessarily​so;​ethics​is​not​a​monolith.​
There​are​many​competing​conceptions​of​ethics,​just​as​there​are​of​poli-
tics.​Some​versions​of​ethics​are​likely​to​discourage​rather​than​inspire​
collective​action​by​democratic​citizens.​Two​of​my​chapters,​in​fact,​focus​
on​the​problems​posed​by​ethical​models​that​center​on​dyadic​relations​
of​care—a​serious​limitation​largely​overlooked,​even​by​those​who​are​
otherwise​skeptical​of​the​ethical​turn​in​democratic​thought.​Yet​it​is​also​
possible​to​conceptualize​and​defend​an​ethos​that​is​uniquely​suited​to​
the​challenges​of​associative​democracy,​as​this​book’s​account​of​worldly​
ethics​will​show.
​ Ethics,​ I​ believe,​ remains​ a​ valuable​ idiom​ for​ thinking​ and​ talking​
about​the​normative​and​affective​orientations​and​sensibilities​that​are​
inevitably​part​of​political​life.​It​is​not​a​matter​of​whether​we​want​to​
bring​ethics​into​politics;​the​phenomena​that​tend​to​travel​under​these​
names​are​already​combined,​for​better​or​worse.​Indeed,​the​language​of​
ethics​and​politics​renders​as​separate​dimensions​of​cultural​existence​
that​are​actually​quite​difficult​to​pull​apart.​Nonetheless,​ethics​continues​
to​provide​a​useful,​albeit​imperfect,​conceptual​vocabulary​for​investi-
gating​those​elements​of​democratic​life​that​are​left​out​of​strictly​insti-
tutional​and​rationalist​accounts.​More​specifically,​my​book​deploys​an​
ethical​vocabulary​in​order​to​consider​the​spirit​that​already​inhabits​as-
sociative​democratic​action—which​I​name​care​for​the​world—and​to​ar-
gue​for​its​importance​and​purposeful​cultivation.​In​doing​so,​I​resist​the​
tendency​to​cast​ethics​per​se​as​unworldly​in​opposition​to​the​worldly​
character​of​politics.​Bonnie​Honig,​for​example,​rightly​insists,​following​
Arendt,​that​politics​is​both​in​and​about​the​world​and​that​the​romance​
with​ethics​may​serve​as​an​escape​from​the​“exposure”​worldly​engage-
ment​entails.33​But​if​politics​is​not​confined​to​formal​procedures​and​

Introduction
—
10
institutions,​what​dispositions​and​sensibilities​are​at​work​when​citizens​
undertake​the​demanding,​uncertain,​but​also​often​pleasurable​work​of​
world-​centered​democratic​action?​Certainly,​as​I​will​show,​some​forms​
of​ethics—which​I​conceptualize​as​therapeutic​and​charitable​in​charac-
ter—can​aptly​be​characterized​as​unworldly​and​therefore​as​generally​
unsupportive​ of​ democratic​ activity.​ But​ it​ is​ a​ mistake​ to​ declare​ that​
ethics​as​such​is​always​and​only​alienated​from​the​world,​understood​as​
the​messy,​power-​laden,​varied​space​of​democratic​association.​This​book​
argues,​on​the​contrary,​for​a​distinctively​worldly​ethics,​not​only​as​a​pos-
sibility​but​as​a​reality,​one​that​is​already​expressed​and​enacted​today​by​
admirable​forms​of​joint​action.
​ This​is​a​critical​and​constructive​project.​The​argument​offered​here​
aims​to​reveal​unacknowledged​costs​of​the​turn​to​ethics.​I​demonstrate​
that​Foucauldian​and​Levinasian​approaches,​each​focused​on​a​different​
dyadic​relation​of​care,​are​inclined​to​enervate​rather​than​enrich​asso-
ciative​action​by​democratic​citizens.​My​critique​does​not​conclude​with​
a​call​to​abandon​the​quest​for​a​democratic​ethos,​however.​Instead,​I​
conceptualize​and​defend​an​alternative​ethical​orientation,​one​focused​
on​inciting​citizens’​collective​care​for​worldly​things.​And​I​argue​that​
worldly​ethics,​implicit​in​certain​collective​citizen​efforts,​is​a​promising​
resource​for​democratic​action​today.
​ The​book’s​case​for​worldly​ethics​centers​on​an​associative​concep-
tion​of​democratic​politics​that​emphasizes​joint​action​by​citizens​aimed​
at​shaping​shared​conditions.34​This​view​of​democracy​grants​primacy​to​
public​practices​in​which​differentiated​collectivities​struggle,​both​with​
and​against​one​another,​to​affect​features​of​the​world​in​which​they​live.​
The​term​associative​refers​to​three​interlocking​features​of​such​a​politics:​
(1)​it​involves​collaborative​and​contentious​action,​born​out​of​associa-
tion​among​multiple​citizens;​(2)​such​action​is​not​confined​to​the​offi-
cial​channels​of​government​but​frequently​appears​at​the​level​of​civil​
society,​within​so-​called​secondary​associations;​and​finally,​most​signifi-
cant:​(3)​democratic​actors​are​both​brought​together​and​separated​from​
one​another​by​common​objects.​In​other​words,​they​always​associate​
around​something.
​ First,​associative​signals​a​nonholistic​understanding​of​democratic​col-
lectivity.​Relations​of​association​are​ones​in​which​distinct​individuals​
coordinate​their​actions​with​others​in​order​to​pursue​goals​not​achiev-
able​by​a​single​actor.35​Democratic​politics​thus​understood​does​not​de-

Tracing the Ethical Turn

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11
pend​on​the​existence​of​a​unified​demos​or​a​single​people.​Rather,​asso-
ciative​democratic​politics​involves​collectivities​that​are​constituted​by​
multiple​“co-​actors.”36​In​addition,​these​relations​of​solidaristic​associa-
tion​are​situated​within​broader,​more​contentious​forms​of​association​in​
which​competing​collectives​vie​publicly​with​one​another​over​specific​
practices,​laws,​policies,​and​norms.
​ Second,​although​certain​political​institutions​and​spaces​serve​as​en-
abling​ conditions​ for​ the​ enactment​ of​ associative​ democratic​ politics,​
this​ politics​ is​ not​ confined​ to​ the​ official​ channels​ of​ government.​ As​
many​of​the​most​powerful​examples​of​associative​democratic​politics​in​
recent​American​history​indicate,​these​projects​frequently​involve​cre-
ative​forms​of​advocacy​that​take​place​on​the​margins​of​or​in​opposition​
to​the​state​apparatus.​Whether​in​pursuit​of​African​American​civil​rights,​
environmental​protections,​a​humane​aiDs​policy,​or​economic​policies​
that​benefit​the​so-​called​99​percent,​direct​collective​action​has​typically​
involved​the​creation​of​new​institutions​and​the​reconfiguration​of​pub-
lic​space,​not​simply​the​occupation​of​preexisting​political​venues.​We​
cannot​fully​anticipate​where​or​how​associative​democratic​politics​will​
appear.37
​ Finally,​associative​indicates​that​democratic​relations​are​not​simply​
intersubjective,​ if​ by​ that​ we​ mean​ they​ involve​ two​ or​ more​ subjects.​
Rather,​ democratic​ politics​ involves​ relations​ among​ plural​ individuals​
which​ are​ mediated​ by​ shared,​ yet​ also​ disputed,​ objects​ of​ attention.​
These​ third​ terms​ around​ which​ democratic​ actors​ associate​ serve​ as​
sites​of​mutual​energy​and​advocacy.​Citizens​are​simultaneously​brought​
together​and​separated​from​one​another​by​specific,​worldly​matters​of​
concern,​ which​“inter-est”​or​lie​between​them.38​Relations​ of​both​co-
operation​ and​ antagonism​ among​ democratic​ constituencies​ are​ medi-
ated​by​something​in​the​world​that​is​the​focal​point​of​their​activity.
​ This​portrait​does​not​claim​to​depict​democracy​as​such;​certain​fea-
tures​ of​ democratic​ politics​ are​ emphasized​ at​ the​ expense​ of​ others.​
Nonetheless,​it​is​important​to​recognize​that​associative​activity​by​ordi-
nary​ citizens​ is​ central​ to​ almost​ every​ conception​ of​ democratic​ poli-
tics,​including​philosophical​formulations​and​practical​understandings​
alike.​Citizen​association​is​certainly​not​always​interpreted​in​the​way​
sketched​above—indeed,​as​I​will​show,​the​central​role​played​by​me-
diating​worldly​things​is​especially​neglected—yet​there​is​a​pervasive,​
shared​understanding​that​the​“art​of​association”​is​absolutely​central​to​

Introduction
—
12
any​satisfactory​account​of​democratic​politics.39​David​Held’s​influential​
Models of Democracy,​for​example,​reveals​the​extent​to​which​associative​
activity​by​citizens​is​regarded​as​a​distinctive,​indispensable​characteris-
tic​of​democracy,​even​according​to​competing​philosophies​which​other-
wise​diverge​considerably.40​It​is​not​only​direct​democrats,​but​also​Dah-
lian​pluralist​democrats​and​more​conventional​liberal​democrats,​among​
others,​who​assign​an​important​role​to​citizen​association​when​defining​
democracy.41
​ Moreover,​everyday​language​suggests​that​people​regularly​identify​
associational​practices​by​which​plural​citizens​aim​to​affect​their​envi-
ronment​as​specifically​democratic,​even​in​the​context​of​regimes​that​
would​ not​ themselves​ be​ so​ categorized.​ For​ example,​ media​ coverage​
in​the​United​States​in​early​2011​often​described​the​collective​protests​
in​Egypt​leading​up​to​the​revolution​as​part​of​a​“democratic​uprising”​
or​as​the​expression​of​“democratic​freedom.”42​These​characterizations,​
also​prevalent​in​informal​conversations​among​nonexperts,​indicate​that​
people​tend​to​understand​public​action​in​concert​precisely​as​an​enact-
ment​of​democracy,​wherever​it​occurs.​The​identification​of​the​protests​
in​Tahrir​Square​in​the​spring​of​2011​as​democratic​had​less​to​do​with​
the​ fact​ that​ some​ participants​ were​ calling​ for​democratizing​ reforms​
than​with​the​shared​insight​that​the​protesters​were​already​practicing​
democracy​by​joining​together​to​generate​power​and​produce​effects​col-
lectively​that​they​could​not​alone.
​ If​associative​action​is​integral​to​nearly​every​philosophical​and​prac-
tical​ definition​ of​ democracy,​ then​ this​ book’s​ investigation​ of​ ethos​ is​
perhaps​of​some​general​interest.​The​book’s​central​questions—Does​the​
practice​of​associative​democracy​have​an​ethos?​How​should​it​be​charac-
terized?​Can​it​be​purposely​fostered?​How?—will,​I​hope,​resonate​with​
democrats​of​varying​stripes​who​share​the​conviction​that​ordinary​citi-
zens’​joint​action,​and​not​merely​individuals’​right​to​vote,​is​essential​to​
democratic​life.
​ The​book’s​initial,​ground-​clearing​project​centers​on​work​that​takes​
inspiration​from​Foucault​and​Levinas.​Theorists​who​turn​to​these​think-
ers​in​order​to​develop​an​account​of​democratic​ethos​are​typically​inter-
ested​in​nourishing​activist​forms​of​democracy​that​involve​significant​
associational​activity​among​citizens.​Yet,​as​I​show,​the​ethical​orienta-
tions​they​conceptualize​are​ill-​suited​to​enriching​the​associative​dynam-
ics​outlined​above,​in​which​collaborative​and​contentious​forms​of​action​

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
13
take​place​in​plural​sites​and​are​mediated​by​disputed​common​objects.​In​
particular,​care​for​the​self​and​care​for​the​Other​describe​ethical​orien-
tations​that​celebrate​dyadic​relations​in​which​the​primary​actor,​a​single​
self,​tends​to​herself​or​to​another.​These​models​of​care​cannot​simply​be​
extended​to​associative​democratic​politics.​Neither​the​face-​to-​face​im-
mediacy​of​the​Levinasian​encounter​nor​the​reflexive​intimacy​of​Fou-
cauldian​arts​of​the​self​leaves​room​for​the​crucial​third​term,​a​common​
and​disputed​object,​that​inspires​democratic​projects​and​draws​citizens​
into​relations​of​support​and​contestation​with​one​another.​In​response​
to​this​neglect,​the​book​elaborates​an​alternative​ethics,​also​centered​on​
practices​of​care.​Yet​the​care​that​is​central​to​associative​democracy,​I​
show,​is​enacted​by​many​persons,​not​one.​And​the​recipient​of​that​care​
is​neither​a​self​nor​even​selves​but​a​particular​feature​of​shared​condi-
tions—a​worldly​thing—that​is​both​a​common​and​contentious​object​of​
concern.
​ One​final​note,​before​offering​a​map​of​the​book’s​contents:​the​three​
central​ thinkers​ in​ this​ project,​ Foucault,​ Levinas,​ and​ Arendt,​ whose​
work​and​its​appropriation​by​others​I​examine​in​relation​to​the​question​
of​democratic​ethics,​are​heirs​to​a​specific,​shared​intellectual​heritage.43​
This​lineage,​existential​phenomenology​in​general​and​Martin​Heideg-
ger’s​thought​in​particular,​is​not​the​focus​of​my​inquiry,​yet​the​fact​that​
all​three​theorists’​writings​are​shaped​by​and​responsive​to​this​singular​
theoretical​tradition​is​important.44​Most​notably,​it​may​help​to​explain​
why​their​work​is​especially​fertile​ground​for​today’s​investigations​into​
ethos,​investigations​which,​as​discussed​earlier,​are​undertaken​from​a​
nonessentialist,​postmoral​vantage​point.45​Despite​the​distinctiveness​of​
their​respective​approaches​and​the​unique​relations​of​care​each​con-
ceptualizes,​ Foucault,​ Levinas,​ and​ Arendt​ can​ be​ regarded​ as​ partici-
pants​in​a​common​theoretical​endeavor,​one​which​is​marked,​first​of​
all,​by​a​“critical​orientation​to​rationalism,​abstract​system-​building,​and​
other​ objectifying​ modes​ of​ thought​ such​ as​ positivism.”46​ In​ addition,​
the​focus​of​existential​phenomenology​on​“worldly​relations”​and​“con-
crete​lived​experience”​rather​than​on​“mental​contents”​is​evident​in​all​
three​thinkers’​work​and​connects​with​their​readers’​interest​in​ethos​
as​an​embodied,​enacted​way​of​being.47​Finally,​because​the​existential-​
phenomenological​ perspective​ is​ especially​ alert​ to​ “non-​rational​ di-
mensions​of​human​existence:​habits,​non-​conscious​practices,​moods,​
and​passions,”​it​is​unsurprising​that​writings​emerging​from​this​tradi-

Introduction
—
14
tion​have​captivated​contemporary​audiences​interested​in​ethics,​where​
ethics​ is​ understood​ as​ dispositional​ and​ affective,​ an​ important​ extra-
rational​aspect​of​political​life.48​The​following​analysis​focuses​primarily​
on​exploring​the​differences​between​therapeutic,​charitable,​and​worldly​
ethics,​which​take​their​bearings​from​Foucault,​Levinas,​and​Arendt,​re-
spectively.​These​competing​approaches​to​ethics​are​not​simply​or​only​at​
odds​with​one​another,​however;​a​shared​existential-​phenomenological​
orientation​informs​the​work​of​all​three​and​seems​to​resonate​with​those​
seeking​a​democratic​ethos​today.

The​book’s​argument​proceeds​as​follows.​Chapter​1​focuses​on​how​Fou-
cault’s​late​work​has​been​taken​up​by​theorists​seeking​a​contemporary​
democratic​ethos.​Foucault’s​interest​in​ancient​aesthetic/ascetic​modes​
of​self-​elaboration,​which​he​describes​as​an​ethics​of​“care​of​the​self,”​
has​intrigued​those​interested​in​cultivating​new​forms​of​democratic​sub-
jectivity​that​might​spur​deeper,​more​respectful​forms​of​citizen​engage-
ment.​Building​on​Foucault’s​recommendation​that​the​ethics​of​self-​care​
might​be​reinvented​for​the​present​and​help​to​foster​selves​who​“play​
games​of​power​with​as​little​domination​as​possible,”​William​Connolly,​
for​example,​has​advocated​ethical​tactics​performed​by​the​self​on​herself​
as​indispensable​for​contemporary​pluralist​democracy.49
​ In​this​chapter​I​examine​both​Foucault’s​and​Connolly’s​work,​focus-
ing​on​Connolly’s​contention​that​arts​of​the​self,​or​“micropolitics,”​have​
a​vital​role​to​play​in​inspiring​and​shaping​collective​democratic​action,​
that​is,​“macropolitics.”​I​argue​that​although​this​idea​is​appealing,​an​
ethics​capable​of​animating​associative​democratic​activity​cannot​take​
the​self’s​relationship​to​itself​as​a​starting​point.​Even​though​Foucault​
and​Connolly​conceptualize​a​self​that​is​continually​recrafted​rather​than​
discovered​in​its​ultimate​truth,​their​work​nonetheless​advances​a​thera-
peutic​ethics,​which​treats​the​self’s​relationship​with​itself​as​primary​
and​envisions​democratic​activity​as​a​consequence​or​extension​of​that​
reflexive​relation.​The​chapter​illuminates​this​therapeutic​ethical​orien-
tation​and​tries​to​dispel​the​belief​that​it​is​by​caring​for​oneself​that​one​
comes​to​care​for​the​world.​I​argue​that​unless​the​self’s​relationship​to​
itself​is​driven​from​the​start​by​shared​concern​for​a​worldly​problem,​
there​is​no​reason​to​believe​that​it​will​lead​in​an​activist,​democratic​di-
rection.​Indeed,​focused​care​for​the​self​too​readily​substitutes​for​tend-
ing​to​the​world​that​is​shared​with​diverse​others.

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
15
​ In​light​of​the​critical​perspective​cast​on​Foucauldian​ethics,​I​turn​
in​chapter​2​to​Levinas’s​ethical​theory,​which​condemns​egoism​in​the​
name​of​the​self’s​infinite​responsibility​to​the​Other.​This​understanding​
of​ethics,​centering​on​the​Other​and​its​summons​to​the​self,​privileges​
an​intersubjective​rather​than​an​intrasubjective​relation.
​ For​theorists​such​as​Simon​Critchley​and​Judith​Butler,​this​focus​on​
the​self’s​obligation​to​tend​to​a​needy​Other​appears​especially​useful​to​
a​democratic​ethos​because​it​confronts​self-​interest,​calling​on​us​to​con-
cern​ourselves​with​the​fates​of​others.​My​readings​of​Levinas,​Critchley,​
and​Butler,​however,​show​that​it​is​a​mistake​to​assume​that​a​charitable​
ethics,​centered​on​the​self’s​provision​of​aid​to​a​singular,​suffering​other,​
can​support​collective​democratic​endeavors.​The​tendency​to​present​a​
Levinasian-​inspired​ethical​truth​as​the​key​to​political​transformation​is​
falsely​reassuring;​it​evades​the​difficulties​of​democratic​mobilization​by​
implying​that​associative​action​simply​awaits​acceptance​of​an​indisput-
able​ethical​reality:​the​self’s​total​obligation​to​the​Other.​Yet​an​ethics​
focused​on​the​self’s​care​for​the​Other,​even​if​understood​in​less​founda-
tional​terms​than​this,​is​unable​to​nourish​associative​democratic​action.​
Levinasian​ ethics​ may​ be​ compelling,​ but​ it​ revolves​ around​ a​ dyadic,​
hierarchical​relation​that​is​focused​on​addressing​immediate​needs.​Such​
charitable​relations​have​value,​but,​as​I​show,​they​are​distinct​from,​even​
at​ odds​ with,​ democratic​ ones,​ which​ involve​ collaboration​ among​ co-​
actors​who​struggle​to​tend​not​to​a​singular​Other,​but​to​the​worldly​con-
ditions​under​which​selves​and​others​live.
​ I​argue​that​the​therapeutic​and​charitable​models​of​ethics​promoted​
by​Foucault,​Levinas,​and​key​interpreters​ such​as​Connolly,​Critchley,​
and​Butler​are​unlikely​to​inspire​and​sustain​collective​democratic​ac-
tivity,​in​which​participants​cooperate​and​contend​with​one​another​in​an​
effort​to​affect​worldly​conditions.​Care​for​oneself​or​care​for​the​Other,​
though​ perhaps​ valuable,​ does​ little​ to​ encourage​ associative​ relations​
among​citizens.​Moreover,​it​is​a​mistake​to​assume​that​forms​of​demo-
cratic​engagement​somehow​follow​from​proper​care​for​the​self​or​for​
an​Other.​Indeed,​I​show​that​the​therapeutic​and​charitable​orientations​
others​have​advocated​in​the​name​of​a​democratic​ethos​need​to​be​re-
sisted​if​we​seek​to​foster​activist​forms​of​democratic​citizenship.
​ Chapters​3​and​4​are​dedicated​to​theorizing​a​world-​centered​ethos.50​
I​argue​that​the​spirit​of​care​for​the​world,​which​already​animates​some​
associative​democratic​projects,​deserves​to​be​explicitly​thematized​and​

Introduction
—
16
purposefully​cultivated.​The​first​step​toward​elaborating​this​ethical​ori-
entation,​which​I​argue​is​especially​important​to​democratic​life,​is​to​
articulate​the​central​concept​of​world.​Chapter​3​develops​this​notion,​
first,​by​defining​world​as​the​array​of​material​and​immaterial​conditions​
under​which​human​beings​live—both​with​one​another​and​with​a​rich​
variety​of​nonhumans,​organic​and​technological.​This​portrait​draws​on​
Arendt’s​understanding​of​world​as​an​“in-​between,”​that​is,​both​the​site​
and​object​of​politics,​yet,​as​the​above​statement​indicates,​I​challenge​
her​restriction​of​world​to​what​is​man-​made.​In​addition,​I​claim​that​
coaction​among​citizens​is​best​understood​not​as​being​directed​at​the​
world​per​se,​as​Arendt​would​have​it,​but​at​particular​worldly​things,​
which​are​more​plural,​dynamic,​and​disputed​than​her​theory​recognizes.​
In​reference​to​thing’s​original​meaning,​worldly​thing,​a​central​concept​
in​this​book,​indicates​not​a​generic​object​but​a​“matter​of​fact”​that​has​
been​reconstituted​as​a​public​“matter​of​concern.”51​This​thing,​I​show,​
is​ crucial​ to​ every​ democratic​ undertaking;​ it​ is​ the​ contentious​ third​
term​around​which​people​gather,​both​in​solidarity​and​division.​A​viable​
democratic​ethos​honors​this​dynamic,​seeking​to​inspire​mutual​care​for​
worldly​conditions.
​ Chapter​3​engages​with​the​work​of​Arendt,​John​Dewey,​Bruno​Latour,​
and​others​in​order​to​reveal​the​structure​of​citizen​association​in​which​
worldly​things​both​connect​and​divide​constituencies,​a​structure​that​is​
eclipsed​by​dyadic​models​of​ethics.​Chapter​4​builds​on​this​account​of​
the​crucial​role​played​by​worldly​things​in​democratic​politics​in​order​to​
specify​the​normative​ends​that​care​for​the​world​pursues.​This​chapter​
clarifies​that​not​all​forms​of​collective​organizing​in​relation​to​a​worldly​
thing​or​matter​of​concern​count​as​instances​of​care​for​the​world.​The​
democratic​ethos​I​defend​is​refined​to​mean​care​for​the​world​as​world.​
Here​I​advance​an​explicitly​normative​conception​of​world—as​both​a​
shared​human​home​and​mediating​political​space—that​allows​for​criti-
cal​distinctions​to​be​made​between​competing​projects​undertaken​by​
democratic​actors.​The​chapter​elaborates​these​concepts​by​examining​
contemporary​organizations​and​movements,​including​No​More​Deaths/
No​Más​Muertes,​the​Beacons​programs​in​New​York​City​Public​Schools,​
and​the​Right​to​the​City​Movement,​which​embody​the​democratic​ethos​
I​advance.
​ A​brief​epilogue​revisits​the​distinctions​between​care​for​the​self,​care​
for​the​Other,​ and​care​ for​the​world​that​inform​ the​book’s​ argument​

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
17
in​support​of​an​ethos​that​can​and​does​animate​associative​democratic​
politics.​Here​I​consider​whether​and​how​the​dyadic,​intimate​modalities​
of​care​emphasized​by​Foucauldian​and​Levinasian​ethics​can​be​trans-
formed​into​collaborative​practices​of​care​focused​on​shaping​collective​
conditions.​ What​ strategies​ of​ politicization,​ for​ example,​ can​ activate​
feelings​ of​care​ and​concern​ and​direct​ them​ toward​ worldly​ things?​ I​
consider​the​techniques​that​can​help​foster​care​for​the​world​even​under​
circumstances​seemingly​inhospitable​to​it.
​ One​image​in​particular,​from​the​margins​of​Arendt’s​work,​can​help​
illuminate​the​distinctive​orientation​that​defines​worldly​ethics.​In​the​
summer​of​1963,​Gershom​Scholem,​the​renowned​Jewish​scholar,​wrote​
a​letter​to​Arendt​concerning​her​recently​published​book​Eichmann in
Jerusalem,​which​reported​on​the​trial​of​the​former​ss​officer​Adolf​Eich-
mann.52​At​the​time​of​its​appearance​Eichmann in Jerusalem​was​the​sub-
ject​of​intense​dispute,​debates​that​continue​to​shape​its​reception​today.​
One​of​the​most​controversial​points​in​the​book​was​Arendt’s​charge​that​
the​Judenräte,​or​local​Jewish​governing​structures,​had,​in​their​mainte-
nance​of​Jewish​public​order​in​the​ghettoes,​enabled​the​Nazis​to​slaugh-
ter​greater​numbers​of​Jews​with​greater​efficiency​than​they​might​other-
wise​have​done.​Many​people,​Jews​and​non-​Jews,​were​shocked​by​this​
seemingly​ harsh​ and​ unempathic​ claim.​ Scholem’s​ letter​ to​ Arendt​ ac-
cuses​her​of​adopting​a​“heartless”​tone​in​her​discussions​of​“Jews​and​
their​bearing​in​the​days​of​catastrophe.”​By​way​of​elaboration,​Scholem​
explains​to​Arendt,​“In​the​Jewish​tradition,​there​is​a​concept,​hard​to​
define​and​yet​concrete​enough,​which​we​know​as​Ahabath Israel:​‘Love​
of​the​Jewish​people.’”​And​he​declares​that​he​finds​“little​trace​of​this”​in​
her​book.53
​ In​her​response​to​Scholem,​Arendt​directly​addresses​this​charge.​She​
writes​of​the​“love​of​the​Jewish​people,”​“You​are​quite​right—I​am​not​
moved​by​any​love​of​this​sort.”​She​states,​“This​‘love​of​the​Jews’​would​
appear​to​me,​since​I​am​myself​Jewish,​as​something​rather​suspect.​I​
cannot​love​myself​or​anything​which​I​know​is​part​and​parcel​of​my​own​
person.”​And​she​writes,​as​a​point​of​contrast,​that​“the​greatness​of​this​
people​was​once​that​it​believed​in​God,​and​believed​in​Him​in​such​a​
way​that​its​trust​and​love​towards​him​was​greater​than​its​fear.​And​now​
this​people​believes​only​in​itself?​What​good​can​come​of​that?—Well,​in​
this​sense​I​do​not​‘love’​the​Jews,​nor​do​I​‘believe’​in​them.”54​Arendt’s​re-
sponse​to​Scholem​calls​into​question​the​self-​oriented​nature​of​Ahabath

Introduction
—
18
Israel,​the​love​of​the​Jewish​people​by​the​Jewish​people.​She​reminds​
him​of​the​real​“greatness”​of​the​Jews,​which​concerned​their​trust​in​and​
love​for​an​entity​outside​themselves​in​relation​to​which​they​came​to​be:​
God,​who​acted​as​a​common​object​of​devotion​and​thus​constituted​a​
shared​world​for​them,​an​in-​between.​It​is​not​the​Jews’​love​for​them-
selves​or​even​for​one​another​that​Arendt​wants​to​recall​and​honor,​but​
their​regard​for​a​third​term,​their​God,​around​which​they​constituted​a​
com​munity.
​ This​book​invites​readers​to​see​in​Arendt’s​exchange​with​Scholem​a​
nascent​democratic​analogy.​Scholem’s​invocation​of​a​self-​oriented​re-
lation​of​love​and​faith​(of​Jews​to​themselves)​evokes​a​dyadic​ethical​
relation​of​the​sort​I​call​into​question.​Arendt’s​radical​shift​in​perspec-
tive,​which​brings​into​view​a​relation​involving​multiple​individuals​and​
a​shared​object​of​love​and​faith,​offers​a​religious​analog​to​the​demo-
cratic​relations​with​which​this​book​is​concerned.​The​third​term,​God,​
is​akin​to​those​secular,​worldly​objects​that,​as​I​argue,​inspire​the​labors​
of​democratic​actors​and​mediate​relations​among​them.​The​book​tracks​
how​these​democratic​modes​of​relation—in​which​individuals​are​con-
nected​ to​ and​ separated​ from​ one​ another​ by​ a​ common​ object​ which​
they​attempt​to​affect—are​occluded​by​popular​ethical​approaches.​And​
it​urges​us​to​see​that​a​sensibility​focused​on​collective​and​contentious​
care​for​worldly​things​is​an​ethos​uniquely​fit​for​democracy.

Tracing the Ethical Turn

—
19
 notes

​––​​
—

introduction
​ 1.​See​The Turn to Ethics,​ed.​Garber,​Hanssen,​and​Walkowitz.​Leading​examples​
of​this​development​include​Anderson,​The Way We Argue Now;​Bennett,​The En-
chantment of Modern Life​and​Vibrant Matter;​Butler,​Giving an Account of Oneself​
and​Precarious Life;​Coles,​Rethinking Generosity;​Connolly,​Why I Am Not a Secular-
ist,​Pluralism,​and​A World of Becoming;​Critchley,​The Ethics of Deconstruction​and​
Infinitely Demanding;​Orlie,​Living Ethically, Acting Politically;​White,​The Ethos of a
Late Modern Citizen;​and​Ziarek,​An Ethics of Dissensus.
​ 2.​William​Connolly​frequently​refers​to​ethics​as​being​indispensable​to​democracy.​
See,​for​example,​Why I Am Not a Secularist,​13,​170,​187.
​ 3.​For​example,​many​media​representations​of​the​Occupy​Wall​Street​(ows)​move-
ment​in​late​2011​emphasized​its​enactment​of​an​ethos,​alternately​identified​as​
nonviolent​(nPr),​leaderless​(Huffington​Post),​do-​it-​yourself​(Jewish​Week),​and​
no-​demands​(Salon.com)​in​character.​Supporters​often​depicted​this​ethos​as​a​
valuable​resource​for​reinvigorating​American​democracy.​For​more​theoretical​
reflections​on​ows’s​ethos,​see​Wendy​Brown​on​its​“populist​ethos”​in​“Occupy​
Wall​Street:​Return​of​a​Repressed​Res-Publica”​and​Richard​Grusin​on​the​move-
ment’s​ fostering​ of​ a​ “revolutionary​ counter-​mood”​ in​ “Premediation​ and​ the​
Virtual​Occupation​of​Wall​Street.”​But​see​also​George​Shulman,​“Interpreting​
Occupy,”​which​argues​that​academics​have​mostly​interpreted​ows​in​ways​that​
validate​“our​own​preferred​frameworks​of​analysis.”​Shulman’s​question,​“Must​
any​effort​to​understand​ows​make​it​evidence​to​confirm​what​we​already​(want​
to)​believe?”​could​easily​be​raised​in​relation​to​the​ethos​many​have​attributed​
to​the​movement.
​ 4.​One​might​object​that​what​is​lacking​in​the​U.S.​polity​is​not​the​requisite​spirit​
but​the​institutional​arrangements​that​ensure​the​exercise​of​genuinely​demo-
cratic​power.​The​influence​of​corporations​on​U.S.​elections,​expanded​by​Citizens
United v. Federal Election Committee​(2010),​might,​for​example,​support​the​claim​
that​citizens​act​rationally​when​they​decline​to​participate​in​democratic​poli-
tics.​Lacking​effective​sites​of​democratic​decision​making,​citizens​may​simply​
opt​out.​Yet​it​is​insufficient​to​insist​that​structural​reform,​rather​than​ethos,​is​
the​real​issue.​This​is​so​not​only​because​of​the​old​but​apt​Rousseauvian​insight​
regarding​the​circular​relationship​between​a​society’s​spirit​and​its​institutions.​
More​ pointedly​ still,​ the​ institutional​ problems​ that​ might​ explain​ citizen​ dis-
 engagement—growing​corporate​power,​an​expanded​executive​branch,​an​en-
trenched​two-​party​system,​and​so​on—do​not​put​to​rest​the​question​of​ethos.​
Indeed,​they​may​raise​it​anew:​might​the​absence​of​effective​collective​action​
in​response​to​these​conditions​lead​one​back​to​the​problem​of​a​spirit​that​is​
missing​but​that​could​help​mobilize​citizens,​rendering​these​mere​facts​sites​of​
democratic​contestation​and​resistance?
​ 5.​As​Nikolas​Kompridis​says,​Habermas​employs​“a​very​sharp​form/content​dis-
tinction​to​distinguish​a​universalistic​concept​of​justice​from​particular​concep-
tions​of​the​good​life”​(“From​Reason​to​Self-​Realisation?,”​333).​The​moral​point​
of​view,​according​to​Habermas,​properly​guides​questions​about​what​is​right,​
while​questions​about​what​is​good​can​be​answered​only​within​the​context​of​a​
specific​form​of​life.
​ 6.​Some​of​the​most​powerful​objections​to​both​Habermas’s​and​Rawls’s​accounts​
of​public​reason​contend​that​their​approaches​to​democratic​deliberation​unwit-
tingly​reinforce​existing​power​relations​and​specifically​disadvantage​marginal-
ized​groups,​whose​forms​of​expression​may​not​conform​to​the​normative​models​
of​communication​they​advance.​See​Young,​“Communication​and​the​Other,”​and​
Deveaux,​Cultural Pluralism and the Dilemmas of Justice.
​ 7.​Rawls,​Political Liberalism,​220.
​ 8.​Anderson’s​The Way We Argue Now​is​an​exception.​She​states​that​ethos​has​be-
come​a​“valorized​ term”​in​contemporary​ political​theory​ but​says​it​has​been​
wrongly​juxtaposed​with​reason​and​aligned​with​affect​(11–12).​Anderson​chal-
lenges​this​framing​(and​Foucauldian​ethics​in​particular,​which​she​casts​as​in-
coherent)​in​support​of​Habermasian​discourse​ethics,​which​she​claims​unites​
ethics​and​rationality.
​ 9.​The​contrast​between​morality​and​ethics​corresponds​roughly​to​the​Hegelian​
distinction​between​formal,​universal​Moralität​and​the​more​particular,​custom-
ary​Sittlichkeit.
​ 10.​This​is​not​to​say​that​those​involved​in​the​turn​to​ethics​advocate​an​anything​
goes​approach​to​political​life.​Connolly,​for​example,​questions​the​exclusions​
generated​by​Rawlsian​public​reason,​which​restrict​“new​drives​of​pluralization”​
(Connolly,​Ethos of Pluralization,​xiv).​Yet​he​also​notes​that​“exclusions,​restric-
tions,​ and​ boundaries”​ are​ necessary,​ particularly​ to​ restrain​ fundamentalism.​
Similarly,​Chantal​Mouffe​argues​that​“total​pluralism”​is​not​possible​or​desirable​
and​that​“some​limits​need​to​be​put​to​the​kind​of​confrontation​that​is​going​to​
be​seen​as​legitimate​in​the​public​sphere.​But​the​political​nature​of​these​limits​
should​be​acknowledged​instead​of​being​presented​as​requirements​of​morality​
or​rationality,”​as​they​are​for​Habermas​and​Rawls​(Mouffe,​The Democratic Para-
dox,​93).
​ 11.​Connolly​ maintains​ that​ secularist​ positions​ that​ eschew​ comprehensive​ con-
ceptions​in​politics​make​it​difficult​for​partisans​to​engage​in​issues​of​the​day​
because​most​participants​actually​do​draw​on​their​metaphysical​and​religious​
perspectives.​Thus​the​desire​to​rid​political​life​of​such​perspectives​may​be​stra-
tegically​ineffective.​See​Connolly,​Why I Am Not a Secularist,​chapter​1.​In​this​re-
gard,​the​discovery—an​apparent​surprise​to​many​Democrats—that​a​majority​

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 of​citizens​who​voted​for​George​W.​Bush​in​2004​cited​moral​values​as​the​single​
most​ important​ issue​ of​ the​ election,​ is​ instructive.​ See​ Katharine​ Q.​ Seelye,​
“Moral​Values​Cited​as​a​Defining​Issue​of​the​Election,”​New York Times,​Novem-
ber​4,​2004.​Several​years​later​Barack​Obama’s​often​moving,​morally​infused​
rhetoric​leading​up​to​the​election​of​2008​seemed​to​express​his​criticism​of​the​
tendency​to​cede​values​talk​to​the​right:​“In​reaction​to​religious​overreach,​we​
equate​tolerance​with​secularism,​and​forfeit​the​moral​language​that​would​help​
infuse​our​policies​with​a​larger​meaning”​(Obama,​The Audacity of Hope,​48).
​ 12.​Oxford English Dictionary​(2d​ed.,​1989).​Chamberlain,​“From​‘Haunts’​to​‘Charac-
ter,’”​102.​Both​the​oed​and​Chamberlain​identify​Aristotle’s​Rhetoric​as​a​primary​
text​ in​ establishing​ this​ meaning​ of​ ethos.​ Chamberlain​ explains​ that​ “in​ most​
writers​of​the​fifth​century​BC​and​later,​ethos​can​usually​be​understood​and​trans-
lated​as​‘character,’”​with​the​caveat​that​such​character​is​understood​in​collective​
and​not​strictly​individualist​terms​(101–2).
​ 13.​Chamberlain,​“From​‘Haunts’​to​‘Character,’”​102.
​ 14.​Thomas​Corts​notes​that​there​has​been​“confusion​of​two​Greek​terms”​which​
are​similar​in​English:​ἔθος,​meaning​simply​“custom”​or​“habit,”​and​ἦθος,​mean-
ing​“custom,​disposition,​character.”​The​latter​term​is​the​one​used​by​Aristotle,​
and​it​is​presented​as​a​complement​to​nomos​in​the​ancient​Greek​tradition.​The​
latter​term,​Corts​notes,​also​carries​a​positive​connotation,​indicating​a​“good​
disposition,”​while​the​former​is​“morally​neutral​and​refers​to​behavioral​traits.”​
Corts​recommends​that​scholars​transliterate​ ἔθος​as​ethos​and​ ἦθος​as​ēthos​in​
order​to​reflect​this​distinction.​In​addition,​“They​might​also​emphasize​the​posi-
tive​moral​quality​of​ἦθος,​rather​than​the​behavioral​neutrality​of​its​sister​term”​
(“The​Derivation​of​Ethos,”​201–2).​This​book,​however,​follows​the​contemporary​
convention​among​democratic​theorists​(and​the​oed)​of​using​ethos​to​refer​to​
“the​characteristic​spirit,​prevalent​tone​of​sentiment,​of​a​people​or​a​commu-
nity.”​See​also​Chamberlain,​“From​‘Haunts’​to​‘Character,’”​where​he​notes​that​
the​Nicomachean Ethics​“explains​the​connection​between​ethos​and​ēthos”​insofar​
as​human​virtue​is​“habituable,”​that​is,​susceptible​to​training​and​habit​(102–3).
​ 15.​Chamberlain,​ “From​ ‘Haunts’​ to​ ‘Character,’”​ 102.​ He​ notes​ that​ “orators​ can​
speak​to​their​audience​of​‘your’​or​‘our’​ēthē,”​indicating​a​shared​moral​sensi-
bility.
​ 16.​Tocqueville,​Democracy in America,​volume​1,​part​2,​chapter​9.
​ 17.​Work​ that​ highlights​ the​ significance​ of​ virtue​ in​ contemporary​ liberalism​ in-
cludes​Macedo,​Liberal Virtues,​and​Galston,​Liberal Purposes.
​ 18.​Berkowitz,​Virtue and the Making of Modern Liberalism.
​ 19.​Button,​Contract, Culture, and Citizenship.
​ 20.​Berkowitz,​Virtue and the Making of Modern Liberalism,​x–xii.​Button​describes​this​
as​“the​paradox​of​civic​virtue​for​liberalism”:​“Liberal​societies​presuppose​and​
rely​on​a​range​of​important​moral​qualities​and​virtues​for​their​very​identity​and​
stability,”​yet​it​is​hard​for​liberals​to​conceive​“how​those​qualities​could​legiti-
mately​be​the​objects​of​cultivation,”​given​their​commitment​to​individual​free-
dom​and​an​“overriding​concern​to​limit​coercive​government”​(Contract, Culture,
and Citizenship,​16).

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​ 21.​Chamberlain,​“From​‘Haunts’​to​‘Character,’”​103.​Or​at​least​they​are​“closely​con-
nected”​when​a​society​is​stable.​Both​Plato​and​Aristotle​are​alert​to​the​difficul-
ties​that​arise​when​ethe​and​nomoi​are​no​longer​mutually​reinforcing.
​ 22.​A​partial​exception​to​this​characterization​is​Machiavelli’s​portrait​of​republi-
canism,​ which,​ as​ Maurizio​ Viroli​ argues,​ follows​ prior​ republican​ thought​ by​
emphasizing​the​rule​of​law,​the​principle​of​civic​equality,​and​the​importance​
of​civic​virtue​but​parts​company​with​the​humanist​and​Ciceronian​traditions​by​
challenging​the​value​of​concord.​Viroli,​“Machiavelli​and​the​Republican​Idea​of​
Politics.”
​ 23.​This​question​suggests​a​project​different​from​Robert​Bellah’s​well-​known​co-
authored​ book,​ which​ borrows​ Tocqueville’s​ phrase​ in​ support​ of​ a​ communi-
tarian,​arguably​nostalgic​vision​of​American​life.​Bellah​et​al.,​The Habits of the
Heart.
​ 24.​Raymond​Geuss​has​argued​strongly​against​“ethics-​first”​forms​of​political​theory.​
But​he​characterizes​ethics​quite​narrowly​as​a​form​of​Kantian​moral​absolutism​
that​regards​politics​as​derivative​of​an​ideal​(a​view​he​identifies​with​Rawls’s​
work).​Geuss’s​criticisms​are​worth​consideration,​but​he​defines​ethics​in​a​very​
limited​and​sometimes​even​caricatured​way​that​does​not​begin​to​capture​the​di-
verse​conceptualizations​of​the​term​by​political​theorists,​many​of​whom​cannot​
reasonably​be​charged​with​the​simple-​minded​idealism​Geuss​portrays​in​order​
to​dramatize​the​merits​of​his​own​realism.​See​Geuss,​Philosophy and Real Politics.
​ 25.​Laclau,​“Deconstruction,​Pragmatism,​Hegemony,”​58,​60,​54.
​ 26.​Mouffe,​“Which​Ethics​for​Democracy?,”​91.​Elsewhere,​however,​Mouffe​is​far​
from​ dismissive​ of​ ethics:​ “To​ secure​ allegiance​ and​ adhesion​ to​ [democratic]​
principles​what​is​needed​is​the​creation​of​a​democratic​ethos​.​.​.​the​mobiliza-
tion​of​passions​and​sentiments,​the​multiplication​of​practices,​institutions​and​
language​games​that​provide​conditions​of​possibility​for​democratic​subjects​and​
democratic​forms​of​willing”​(“Deconstruction,​Pragmatism,​and​the​Politics​of​
Democracy,”​6).
​ 27.​Apostolidis,​“Politics​and​Connolly’s​Ethics.”​Although​his​main​argument​here​
is​that​the​“complementarities​of​ethical​and​political​action”​are​revealed​when​
Connolly’s​ethical​work​is​read​in​connection​with​the​experiences​and​narratives​
of​immigrant​workers,​the​article​nonetheless​ends​on​a​cautionary​note,​warning​
that​theorists​should​renew​their​“enthusiasm​for​interrogating​the​structural​dy-
namics​of​power​that​help​order​the​terrain​where​ethical​practices​are​deployed.”
​ 28.​Brown,​“Moralism​as​Anti-​Politics.”​See​also​Dean,​“The​Politics​of​Avoidance,”​
which​depicts​the​turn​to​ethics​as​a​form​of​naïve​idealism​that​detracts​attention​
from​the​critical​and​oppositional​politics​in​which​democratic​citizens​ought​to​
be​engaged.​In​a​related​move,​Jacques​Rancière’s​“The​Ethical​Turn​of​Aesthet-
ics​and​Politics”​casts​the​ethical​turn​as​an​evasion​of​judgment​and​distinction​
making,​though​this​claim​is​suggested​more​than​fully​argued.
​ 29.​Shulman,​“Acknowledgment​and​Disavowal​as​an​Idiom​for​Theorizing​Politics.”
​ 30.​“Action​in​concert”​is​Arendt’s​phrase,​which​appears​throughout​her​writings​and​
is​especially​prominent​in​The Human Condition.
​ 31.​Ibid.​Honig,​“The​Politics​of​Ethos,”​also​advances​this​hypothesis.​In​a​more​his-

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 torical​reading​of​the​turn​to​ethics​in​the​French​context,​Julian​Bourg’s​From
Revolution to Ethics​documents​a​paradigm​shift​following​May​1968,​in​which​a​
new​emphasis​on​ethics​(one​which​persists​to​this​day)​appeared​in​response​to​
the​apparent​impossibility​of​political​revolution.​Although​he​does​not​label​this​
development​a​signal​of​despair,​he​does​present​the​shift​to​the​ethical​register​as​
a​consequence​of​the​failure​of​institutional​overthrow​in​1968.
​ 32.​On​ the​ question​ of​ absolutism,​ Myers,​ “From​ Pluralism​ to​ Liberalism,”​ dem-
onstrates​that​the​indeterminate​ethical​outlook​articulated​by​Berlin—that​of​
value​ pluralism—is​ misinterpreted​ and​ appropriated​ by​contemporary​ liberals​
who​seek​to​turn​it​into​a​moral​foundation​sanctioning​liberalism.​Myers,​“Re-
sisting​Foucauldian​Ethics,”​shows​that​the​turn​to​ethics​also​has​the​potential​to​
distract​from​more​pressing​questions​of​how​to​generate​collective​power.​Some​
of​Foucault’s​influential​readers​have​wrongly​emphasized​his​later​work​on​the​
ethics​of​“care​for​the​self”​as​a​strategy​for​resisting​disciplinary​power​and​bio-
power.​This​approach,​I​argue,​minimizes​Foucault’s​astute​analyses​of​how​disci-
pline​and​biopower​function​by​“individualizing”​and​“massifying,”​respectively,​
and​his​related​but​underappreciated​account​of​the​“counter-​power”​born​out​of​
associative​activity​that​can​potentially​contend​with​these​forces.​This​neglected​
but​central​Foucauldian​insight​should​alert​us​to​the​limits​of​care​of​the​self​as​
a​means​of​reworking​existing​power​relations​and​redirect​our​attention​to​asso-
ciative​strategies​instead.
​ 33.​Honig​observes,​“Still,​it​seems​to​me,​although​ethos​may​be​an​important​part​
of​preparation​and​receptivity​for​would-​be​political​actors​(themselves​already​
politicized​as​constituted​subjects),​it​is​no​match​for​the​worldliness​of​political​
engagement”​(“The​Politics​of​Ethos,”​428).​This​claim​echoes​my​earlier​argu-
ment​in​“The​Turn​to​Ethics​and​Its​Democratic​Costs,”​which​conceptualizes​the​
quest​for​ethos​primarily​as​an​evasion​of—and​threat​to—democratic​politics.
​ 34.​This​understanding​of​politics​serves​as​a​counterpoint​to​what​has​been​termed​
the​“democratic​deficit”​in​contemporary​theory,​that​is,​the​tendency​in​recent​
political​thought​to​emphasize​the​liberal​side​of​liberal​democracy​by​focusing​
primarily​on​questions​of​individual​rights​and​safeguards​against​the​state​at​the​
expense​of​pursuing​questions​that​concern​the​distribution​of​political​power​
and​the​existence​of​meaningful​opportunities​for​citizen​participation​in​self-​
government.​ I​ borrow​ the​ term​ “democratic​ deficit”​ from​ Mouffe,​ Democratic
Paradox​(3–4),​though​it​was​in​wide​circulation​during​the​debates​over​the​de-
sign​of​the​European​Union.
​ 35.​Alexis​de​Tocqueville​famously​credits​associational​activity​with​saving​the​“in-
dependent​and​weak”​citizens​of​democracy​from​helplessness.​The​“art​of​asso-
ciation”​ in​ which​ men​ “combine​ for​ great​ ends”​ enables​ individual​ citizens​ to​
produce​effects​they​could​not​otherwise.​Tocqueville,​Democracy in America,​vol-
ume​2,​part​2,​chapters​5–7.
​ 36.​Hannah​Arendt​refers​to​“co-​acting”​when​she​states​that​action​is​“never​possible​
in​isolation”​(The Human Condition,​189).
​ 37.​Although​the​existence​of​certain​legal​protections​such​as​the​right​to​assemble​
can​help​to​support​the​emergence​of​collective​movements,​examples​of​associa-

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 tive​democratic​politics​among​dissidents,​as​in​the​Solidarity​movement​of​the​
1980s​in​Poland,​indicate​that​it​would​be​a​mistake​to​rule​out​the​appearance​of​
associative​action​even​in​regimes​with​very​limited​rights​protections.​Equally​
mistaken​is​the​idea​that​the​existence​of​constitutional​rights​to​speech​and​as-
sembly,​for​example,​is​proof​that​American​political​culture​is​hospitable​to​the​
creation​and​preservation​of​associational​relations.​As​Michael​Rogin​has​dem-
onstrated,​ aggressive​ governmental​ efforts​ throughout​ American​ history​ have​
effectively​suppressed​associative​activities​and​collective​forms​of​life​thought​
to​threaten​state​power.​What​Rogin​calls​the​“countersubversive​tradition”​in​the​
United​States​involves​the​state’s​valorization​of​“private​freedom”​and​a​routine​
denial​of​“public​freedom,”​or​“the​freedom​of​community​members​to​speak​and​
act​together”​(“Political​Repression​in​the​United​States,”​65).
​ 38.​Arendt,​The Human Condition,​182.
​ 39.​“Art​of​association”​is​Tocqueville’s​well-​known​phrase,​which​appears​in​Democ-
racy in America,​volume​2,​part​2,​chapter​5.
​ 40.​Held,​ Models of Democracy.​ Of​ the​ eight​ variants​ of​ democracy​ Held​ analyzes,​
seven​grant​a​prominent​place​to​citizens’​associative​activity.​Although​the​insti-
tutional​locations​and​meanings​assigned​to​associations​vary,​ranging​from​the​
citizen​councils​of​classic​republicanism​to​the​pressure​groups​of​midcentury​
pluralism,​only​the​model​of​democratic​elitism​grants​little​to​no​importance​to​
associational​activity.
​ 41.​The​purpose​and​meaning​ascribed​to​associational​activity​vary​according​to​the​
particular​framework​within​which​it​is​interpreted.​Archon​Fung’s​“Associations​
and​Democracy”​contains​a​very​useful​mapping​of​the​different​arguments​ad-
vanced​in​support​of​associational​activity.​Fung​shows​that​democratic​associa-
tion​is​credited​with​making​six​kinds​of​contributions,​not​all​of​them​compatible.​
(For​example,​according​to​some,​association​is​an​intrinsic​good,​but​liberals​tend​
to​see​it​as​an​expression​of​personal​freedom​while​participatory​democrats​re-
gard​it​as​a​mode​of​collective​self-​determination.​Still​other​theories​see​the​prac-
tice​of​association​in​more​instrumental​terms,​whether​as​a​means​of​developing​
certain​skills​and​capacities​or​as​a​mechanism​for​improving​the​representation​
of​interests.)​This​diversity​should​not​be​surprising,​given​that​the​contributions​
ascribed​to​associational​activity​are​generated​by​competing​“background​ideals,”​
which​Fung​labels​classical​liberalism,​representative​democracy,​and​participa-
tory​democracy.
​ 42.​See,​for​example,​Robert​F.​Worth,​“Yemen​on​the​Brink​of​Hell,”​New York Times,​
July​20,​2011,​and​Simon​Sebag​Montefiore,​“Every​Revolution​Is​Revolutionary​
in​Its​Own​Way,”​New York Times,​March​23,​2011.
​ 43.​In​ “A​ Brief​ Introduction​ to​ Phenomenology​ and​ Existentialism”​ Wrathall​ and​
Dreyfus​ include​ Arendt,​ Levinas,​ and​ Foucault​ in​ their​ short​ list​ of​ thinkers​
strongly​influenced​by​phenomenology​and​existentialism.
​ 44.​Although​phenomenology​and​existentialism​originally​appeared​as​two​distinct​
strands​of​twentieth-​century​European​thought,​they​have​“largely​merged​into​a​
common​canon​of​works​and​ways​of​doing​philosophy”​(ibid.,​5).​See​this​same​

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 text​ for​ an​ account​ of​ the​ primary​ features​ of​ “merged”​ existential​ phenome-
nology.
​ 45.​Foucault’s​and​Levinas’s​works​feature​much​more​prominently​than​Arendt’s​in​
the​recent​turn​to​ethics,​perhaps​because​Arendt​does​not​embrace​an​explicitly​
ethical​vocabulary.​She​is​also​sometimes​misread​as​a​thoroughly​amoral​thinker,​
though,​as​I​will​show,​the​beginnings​of​a​powerful​ethical​sensibility—care​for​
the​world—run​throughout​her​writings.
​ 46.​Kruks,​Retrieving Experience,​6.
​ 47.​This​is​Wrathall’s​and​Dreyfus’s​description​of​Heidegger’s​shift​away​from​Husserl​
(“A​Brief​Introduction​to​Phenomenology​and​Existentialism,”​3).
​ 48.​Ibid.,​5.
​ 49.​Foucault,​“The​Ethics​of​the​Concern​for​Self​as​a​Practice​of​Freedom,”​298.
​ 50.​My​project​explores​how​the​understanding​of​ethics​might​productively​shift​by​
adopting​what​Linda​Zerilli​has​called​a​“world-​centered​frame.”​She​too​identi-
fies​this​frame​with​Arendt,​though​her​intervention​focuses​on​the​importance​
of​reconceiving​freedom​as​a​“world​question”​rather​than​a​“subject​question”​for​
feminist​theory​and​politics.​See​Zerilli,​Feminism and the Abyss of Freedom,​intro-
duction.
​ 51.​I​borrow​the​distinction​between​a​“matter​of​fact”​and​a​“matter​of​concern”​from​
Latour,​“From​Realpolitik​to​Dingpolitik,”​16.
​ 52.​Scholem​and​Arendt,​“Eichmann​in​Jerusalem.”
​ 53.​Ibid.,​51.
​ 54.​Ibid.,​54.

1. crafting a dEMocratic subjEct?

​ 1.​For​example,​the​antiwar​group​Code​Pink​was​criticized​by​some​for​their​activi-
ties,​which​included​interrupting​and​heckling​during​speeches​by​officials,​in-
cluding​President​George​W.​Bush.​Ewen​MacAskill,​“Debate​over​US​Healthcare​
Takes​an​Ugly​Turn,”​The Guardian,​August​12,​2009;​Ian​Urbina,​“Beyond​Beltway,​
Health​Debate​Turns​Hostile,”​New York Times,​August​7,​2009.​Popular​attention​
to​questions​of​civility​in​politics​peaked​in​January​2011​after​the​assassination​
attempt​on​Rep.​Gabrielle​Giffords​and​the​murder​of​six​others​at​a​public​Con-
gress​on​Your​Corner​event​at​a​shopping​center​in​Tucson.​Helene​Cooper​and​
Jeff​Zeleny,​“Obama​Calls​for​Civility​in​New​Era​of​American​Politics,”​New York
Times,​January​12,​2011.
​ 2.​Myers,​ “Resisting​ Foucauldian​ Ethics.”​ I​ argue​ that​ contemporary​ theory​ that​
champions​Foucauldian​self-​care​as​a​privileged​mode​of​resistance​often​neglects​
Foucault’s​analysis​of​disciplinary​power​and​biopower,​which,​if​read​carefully,​
should​alert​one​to​the​limits​of​the​care​of​the​self​as​a​strategy​for​reshaping​
power​relations.
​ 3.​William​Connolly​is​the​most​influential​proponent​of​this​view.​See​Connolly,​The
Ethos of Pluralization,​Why I Am Not a Secularist,​and​Pluralism.​See​also​Dumm,​
Michel Foucault and the Politics of Freedom;​Orlie,​Living Ethically, Acting Politically;​
Simons,​Foucault and the Political.

Notes to Chapter 1
—
159
 Ella​Myers​is​Assistant​Professor​of​Political​Science​and​
Gender​Studies​at​the​University​of​Utah.

Library​of​Congress​Cataloging-​in-​Publication​Data
Myers,​Ella,​1976–
Worldly​ethics​:​democratic​politics​and​​
care​for​the​world​/​Ella​Myers.
p.​cm.
Includes​bibliographical​references​and​index.
isBn​978-​0-​8223-​5385-​0​(cloth​:​alk.​paper)
isBn​978-​0-​8223-​5399-​7​(pbk.​:​alk.​paper)
1.​Democracy—Moral​and​ethical​aspects.​2.​International​
relations—Moral​and​ethical​aspects.​3.​Citizenship—
Moral​and​ethical​aspects.​4.​Political​participation—
Moral​and​ethical​aspects.​I.​Title.
jC423.m96​2013
172—dc23 2012033712