Book Reviews 175

The Form of Practical Knowledge is the fruit of years of reflection on Kant’s

work, and Engstrom has a distinctive vision and feel for Kant’s thought. The
book is full of intricate discussions and arguments that are subtle, amazingly
insightful, and often go quite deep. It is also a densely written book that makes
demands on the reader, but it repays the effort. In working through the book
carefully, I have learned a lot and have come to see many aspects of the main
lines of argument in the Groundwork and Critique of Practical Reason in a new
light. It is an impressive book with the potential to reorient our understanding
of Kant’s moral theory.

Andrews Reath
University of California, Riverside

Geuss, Raymond. Philosophy and Real Politics.

Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008. Pp. 126. $19.95 (cloth).

Keynes wrote at the end of the General Theory of Employment, Interest, and Money:
“The ideas of economists and political philosophers, both when they are right
and when they are wrong, are more powerful than is commonly understood.
Indeed, the world is ruled by little else” ([Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1936], 383). Raymond Geuss has long argued that the ideas of contem-
porary Anglo-American political philosophers are almost always wrong—or,
rather, “ideological.” In Philosophy and Real Politics, he in effect takes issue with
Keynes’s claim about the powerful influence of philosophers’ and economists’
ideas and theories: rather than governing political conduct, as ideologies they
obscure the real sources of politics, namely, power in the service of certain
people’s interests.
There is a general failure among Anglo-American political philosophers,
Geuss says, to attend to history and the historical context within which their
main ideas arose and evolved. Geuss contends that historical awareness of the
social and political contexts within which values such as justice, rights, equality,
fair distribution, and so forth, originated and evolved will lead us (at least some
of us) to see the futility of normative theories of justice and individual rights.
He does not deny the potential influence of some theories as “ideological inter-
ventions” (94), but he contends that taking ideas out of their historical context
exaggerates their significance: “Considerations of fairness, equality, justice, and
other virtues might well have a perfectly dignified, if subordinate, place in various
administrative decisions. What I do object to is the claim that they define politics”
(100).
Geuss’s critique is aimed specifically at “present reactionary forms of neo-
Kantianism” (99), particularly Rawls’s, but also Nozick’s, and he condemns in
passing utilitarianism and other forms of academic “moralizing” such as hypo-
thetical models of the “ideal speech community,” “(an ideal) democracy,” and
“socialism” (8; including then Habermas’s version and other accounts of delib-
erative democracy and also neo-Marxist accounts of justice propounded by G. A.
Cohen, John Roemer, et al.). Geuss rejects the idea that any “ideal theory” of
“Ethics” can be formulated and “applied” to “real world politics” (6), certainly not
176 Ethics October 2009

without “unceasingly reflecting” on history, sociology, economics, psychology, and

other empirical studies (7). But engaging in these sorts of reflections should lead
us to see the futility of any moral theory that prescribes universal principles of
justice. Insofar as Geuss has an ethical view, it would be “contextualist” and
reveal itself in his criticisms of others rather than via any statement of normative
principles, an exercise which he rejects as misguided (96). In this review, I will
summarize the two parts of Geuss’s book and conclude with some reflections
on his main argument.

I. THE REALIST APPROACH TO POLITICS

Geuss precedes his critical attack on contemporary political philosophy with a
constructive outline of an alternative method for political philosophy. Instead
of “ethics first,” Geuss suggests a “realist” approach to political philosophy, in-
formed by four “theses”:

1. “Political philosophy must be realist” and concern itself not with how peo-
ple “ought ‘rationally’” to act but with “real motivation,” or what actually
motivates people (9). What is important is not simply what people say,
think, or believe but what they do and what actually happens as a result.
2. This suggests that “politics” is about action and its context, not “mere beliefs
and propositions” (11). Beliefs and propositions influence action (e.g.,
“Chicago style neo-liberal economics” and “rational decision theory” have
had effects on recent politics—at least, ideological effects), but we do not
know what the nature of the influence will be.
3. “Politics is historically located,” and as a result “excessive generalising ends
up not being informative. There are no interesting ‘eternal questions’ of
political philosophy” (13). General claims about human nature and basic
human needs relied upon by ideal theories cannot be taken in isolation,
detached from “specific cultural and historical circumstances” (15; and see
14–15).
4. “Politics is more like the exercise of a craft or art” than like the application
of a theory (15). It requires skills that cannot be learned by way of abstract
or ideal theories. Thus, moral philosophers have little of practical value to
impart to the practice of politics. They (especially Kantians) have “fallen prey
to a kind of fetishism” (16) in assuming a sharp distinction between “Fact”
and “Value,” “Is” and “Ought,” and the “Descriptive” versus the “Normative”
(16).

In its simplest terms, a realist political philosophy regards “modern politics

[as] importantly about power, its acquisition, distribution, and use” and studies
it accordingly (96). While others have expressed much the same view (e.g.,
Laswell and early Dahl), Geuss’s focus on power relations stems largely from his
reading of Lenin. For Lenin, politics basically concerns “Who whom?” or the
question, “Who !does1 what to whom for whose benefit?” (23, 25). For example,
the statement “Unemployment has risen x percent” means that certain people
who control economic organizations have terminated others’ employment to
benefit someone else (24). Politics is then always about the power that some
people exercise over others for someone’s benefit: “To think politically is to
 Book Reviews 177

think about agency, power, and interests, and the relations among these” (25).
Of course, not all power is coercive power. Power is connected with the “ability
to do” (27). There is then also persuasive power, the power of charismatic figures,
and other forms of “soft” power at work in politics (27).
Geuss says that an implication of the Leninist model is that we cannot come
to any substantive understanding of politics by discussing “the good, the right,
the true, or the rational” in complete abstraction from the way these concepts
impinge upon people’s actions. And this requires that political theory must
proceed from an understanding of existing social and political institutions and
culture (28).
Here, a normative political philosopher might reply that Geuss confuses
political philosophy with political science, for the role of a moral conception
of justice is not to understand contemporary social and political relations and
institutions but to reform them by providing an ideal of social and political
relations. But Geuss rejects the idea that normative (or “ideal”) theory can
provide legitimate (or nonideological) normative guidance in reforming society.
Moreover, Geuss’s Leninist view of politics as power relations suggests that po-
litical theory itself is a form of power. This in effect is Lenin’s “principle of
partisanship,” that “every theory is ‘partisan’” (29) and is “potentially a partisan
intervention” (30). Since “the politics of theorisation” is unavoidable (29), then
in constructing political and social theory, we should be aware of “the actual
political implications of a theory” (30).
Some readers might be led to suspect that Geuss’s realism is informed by
a kind of moral and evaluative skepticism. For example, he says, “In politics ‘It
would be good if . . . ’ means someone has decided that it would be desirable
or advisable if this were to take place” (28). But he seems to deny that he is
committed to skepticism. In any case, since (as I argue below) the effectiveness
of Geuss’s realist or critical theory itself relies upon evaluative claims, skepticism
about normativity would seem only to compromise his argument.
Geuss also discusses as central to realist political philosophy questions
raised by Nietzsche on the timing of political priorities and questions raised
by Weber on political legitimation. Weber, Geuss says, thought that politics is
“about collective forms of legitimating violence” (34). Geuss says that although
not all politics is about control of and legitimation of violence (e.g., providing
public goods is not), a realistic understanding of why a society behaves politi-
cally in a certain way requires that we “take account of the specific way the
existing forms of legitimation work” (36).
This leads to a discussion of five tasks for political philosophy. This section
(37–55) is perhaps the most original part of Geuss’s book. Briefly, “the task of
political philosophy” (37) is

1. Understanding: To impart understanding of how politics works, political phi-

losophy should involve “a systematic attempt to understand how the organised
forms of acting together in a given society actually work, and . . . explain
why certain decisions are taken, why certain projects fail and others succeed,
or why social and political action exhibits the patterns it does” (37–38).
2. Evaluation: Since, as Nietzsche says, we are evaluating animals, political phi-
losophy should enable us to evaluate—as good, bad, better, or worse—po-
178 Ethics October 2009

litical actions and arrangements. This includes not just moral evaluation, to
which ideal moral theory mistakenly assigns absolute priority, but evaluation
along multifarious dimensions—for example, usefulness, efficiency, “per-
spicuousness,” simplicity, and aesthetic appeal (39).
3. Orientation: Political philosophy has a role in enabling people to orient them-
selves within their society and within a worldview, so that they can avoid
anomie, have a sense of their “place in the world,” and “lead a ‘meaningful’
life” (40).
4. Conceptual innovation: Political philosophy can make “a constructive con-
tribution to politics by conceptual invention or innovation” (42). Here,
Geuss provides a compelling discussion of how the early modern invention
of the concept of “the state,” as an abstract structure of power and authority
distinct from both the populace and the prince or ruling class, enabled
members of societies to understand their situation and define and address
various sorts of problems, including “the problems of ensuring political
order in an incipiently atomised society without recourse to religion” (46).
5. Ideology: Geuss defines an “ideology” as beliefs, attitudes, and preferences
that are typically believed to be connected with universal interests but that
are in fact distorted by specific power relations (52). Political theory, while
it has often had the function of propounding and fostering ideologies,
should instead serve the function of analyzing and helping to dissolve them.

II. FAILURES OF REALISM

In his book’s second half, Geuss criticizes three of the predominant normative
approaches within contemporary political philosophy: rights-based accounts
(typified by Nozick), justice-based accounts (exemplified by Rawls), and egali-
tarian- or equality-based accounts of justice (here, Geuss addresses no one in
particular). Generally, Geuss’s critique questions the purported role of normative
political conceptions put forth by neo-Kantians such as Rawls, Nozick, and Dwor-
kin; by utilitarians; and (although he mentions no one by name) by socialists
and neo-Marxists. To some degree, Geuss’s arguments resemble those made by
Bernard Williams. Williams also calls his approach “political realism,” contrasting
it with the “political moralism” he rejects (see Williams, In the Beginning Was the
Deed, ed. Geoffrey Hawthorn [Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2005],
3–4). He, too, criticizes political moralists for ignoring the historical origins of
their concepts and principles, for naively assuming that our moral intuitions are
based in reason and not in historical conditions (Williams, In the Beginning, 13),
and for supposing that moral principles have universal applicability. But while
Williams, as a liberal democrat, sees governments as having “to offer a justification
of its power to each subject” (In the Beginning, 4), Geuss would seem to regard all
such attempts, and all normative political theories that inform such justifications,
as at best “ideological.” Normative political theories are not (or not simply) false
but, rather, are (also) illusory and misleading in that they obscure the power
relations that underlie institutions and our social and political relations.
Hence, Nozick’s libertarianism builds upon the fixation on individual rights,
particularly property rights, that is part of American political consciousness. How
otherwise, Geuss asks, could Nozick simply assert, without any argument, that
 Book Reviews 179

individuals have absolute rights in their persons and possessions and then pro-
ceed without further analysis to draw consequences from this assertion (cf. 64)?
Geuss then proceeds by recounting the origin and history of the idea of sub-
jective rights in order to show that rights are not a “natural part of the framework
for political thinking” (68). A problem with Nozick’s taking individual rights as
the self-evident basis for political thought is that “he actively distracts people
from asking other, highly relevant questions” (69) about, for example, the power
relationships that rights sustain.
With regard to egalitarian views, Geuss says Marx and Engels were “explicit
antiegalitarians, or rather, they . . . held that abstract equality as a social ideal
was philosophically incoherent” (76). People can be made only more or less
equal in some respect, and to make them more equal along one dimension
makes them less so along another (78). Many legal inequalities have great social
value; for example, in occupying offices and positions, we want only qualified
people to perform surgeries and to practice law. Geuss reveals his own normative
proclivities in saying that there is nothing wrong with unequal distribution in
itself: “What is objectionable is depriving people” of some needed good (he
mentions medical treatment) “if it is in principle available. That in most societies
is a definite social ill, and we do not need to appeal to the notion of ‘equality’
to see why it is an ill” (79, 80).
Here, neo-Marxist egalitarians, such as G. A. Cohen, would object and argue
that equal distribution of certain goods (income and wealth, or access to ad-
vantage, or opportunities for welfare) that are the consequences of luck is re-
quired by justice, as is the precept that people otherwise should be awarded
according to their effort and not for other reasons. But Geuss, as is clear in his
criticisms of Rawls (70–76, 80–89), also rejects theories of justice and the moral
intuitions that inform them. Many of his objections are familiar from other
discussions, including discussions that fully accept normative/evaluative dis-
course and theorizing. He questions how the “disembodied agents” in the origi-
nal position can make any choice in ignorance of all particular facts and of
grounds or reasons for making a choice. Moreover, he asks, why does Rawls
“assume that ‘choice’ under the specified circumstances will exhibit any kind
of convergence at all?” The original position is “an incoherent concept” (71;
briefly, Rawls does not just “assume” agreement but, rather, gives a series of
arguments for it [see Rawls, A Theory of Justice (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni-
versity Press, 1971), secs. 26–29, etc.]. Moreover, the parties are not deprived of
all grounds for choice; they know that they have certain fundamental interests—
e.g., in the exercise and development of their “moral powers”—and that they
require adequate primary social goods to realize them, as well as most any
conception of the good).
Geuss also claims that Rawls asserts but does not make the case for the
priority of justice, in his narrow sense of “fairness,” over other social values. But
why, Geuss asks, should fairness have uncompromising priority over all other
“vital human interests” and moral and political values, including “survival, se-
curity, agency, transparency, efficiency, [and] self-esteem”? (83). The beginning
of a response to Geuss’s challenge is that Rawls does not give fairness absolute
priority over all other values. Instead, fairness is a procedural value that pre-
supposes substantive values and certain “vital human interests.” Each of the
180 Ethics October 2009

values Geuss mentions (as well as some he does not, such as individual freedom
and independence, equal respect for persons, guaranteeing peoples’ basic needs,
and living with others on terms which equal citizens can endorse because they
are justifiable to them) are interpreted and incorporated into Rawls’s account
of justice as fairness. The value of fairness, rather than trumping these other
values, enables Rawls to make them cohere in a substantive conception of justice.
Together with other values Geuss mentions—such as “agency” (understood as
rational moral agency) and “transparency” (understood as publicity of the social
bases of our relations)—fairness provides structure and content to the choice
procedure for principles of justice that address the fundamental interests of
democratic citizens. The significance and priority assigned to political and moral
values of justice are then expressed through the application of principles of
justice to institutions.
Geuss says that “neo-Kantian” views like Rawls’s are “reactionary” (as com-
pared with what?) and that Rawls authorizes “vastly different powers and re-
sources” (99, 91). Here, Geuss perpetuates the post-Marxist Left’s allegation (or
extended argument, in G. A. Cohen’s case) that Rawls’s difference principle
justifies the enormous inequalities typical of capitalism. But Rawls explicitly re-
jects capitalism and the capitalist welfare state for this and other reasons: “Welfare
state capitalism permits a small class to have a near monopoly of the means of
production. Property-owning democracy avoids this” (Rawls, Justice as Fairness:
A Restatement, ed. Erin Kelly [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001],
139). The second principle of justice supports either a property-owning de-
mocracy or liberal socialism, depending on factual circumstances (see Rawls,
Theory of Justice [1971], 274, 280–81; Justice as Fairness, secs. 41–42). In either
system, economic powers (which include control of the means of production),
along with income and ownership of productive wealth, are widely dispersed
among democratic citizens (Rawls, Justice as Fairness, 139–40). There is nothing
reactionary about Rawls’s account of economic justice; the allegation is ridiculous.
The most distinctive criticism Geuss makes of Rawls is that the principles
of justice are decided upon in ignorance of all facts about society, including
existing power relations and the circumstances under which our moral intutions
are cultivated: “To the extent, then, to which Rawls draws attention away from
the phenomenon of power and the way in which it influences our lives and the
way we see the world, his theory is itself ideological. To think that an appropriate
point of departure for understanding the political world is our intuitions of what
is ‘just,’ without reflecting on where those intuitions come from, how they are
maintained, and what interests they might serve, seems to exclude from the
beginning the very possibility that these intuitions might themselves be ‘ideo-
logical’” (90).
Rawls is not trying to achieve an “understanding [of] the political world.”
Still, his theory does not exclude historical and critical inquiries into the origins
and function of our moral convictions of justice. Simply because the parties in
the original position are ignorant of such facts does not mean that Rawls did
not take them into account in arriving at his considered convictions of justice
and deciding how to set up the original position and, later, in assessing the
resulting principles of justice in reflective equilibrium. Indeed, such a historical
and critical inquiry into the sources of our considered moral convictions might
 Book Reviews 181

be regarded as part of the process of reflective equilibrium (in a loose sense)

that Rawls encourages. Nothing Geuss says suggests that any specific considered
moral conviction about justice Rawls relies upon should be shaken by “realist”
inquiry. Instead, Geuss, without making any substantial argument for it, seems
to proceed from the general assumption that existing power relations must
inevitably taint our moral intuitions (all of them?), so much so that they are
ideological and an unreliable basis for constructing a moral theory. This is a
very different argument from the one that Williams and other intuitionists/
particularists rely upon to question Rawls’s and other abstract moral theories,
for it questions the very possibility of doing any normative moral and political
philosophy at all.
Regarding the frequent complaint that he unjustifiably relies on moral
intuitions, Rawls said at least two things. First, relying on intuitions (or “consid-
ered convictions”) in political philosophy is unavoidable. Those who dismiss
considered moral intuitions wholesale must rely on philosophical intuitions of
some kind (evaluative, metaphysical, etc.). Second, given this, and given that we
have to begin somewhere in moral theorizing, it seems more reasonable to begin
with our considered moral and evaluative intuitions rather than with anyone
else’s or anywhere else. Geuss clearly denies the second claim—he contends
that political philosophy should begin with the examination of power relations—
and he thinks that this forecloses the possibility of normative moral theory. To
the extent that political philosophy is normative at all, it should be critical of
existing power relations and should not seek to construct a normative moral
theory.
But surely critical realist theory is informed by ethical intuitions of its own
about justice and the human good—regarding (for example) the injustice or
degradation caused by economic exploitation and existing power relations, or
the distortion of our characters caused by the wage relationship and ideological
consciousness, or the failure of existing power relations to meet basic human
needs (e.g., for medical care; see 79–80); and so on. If he is not relying on his
ethical intuitions, what otherwise could be the force of Geuss’s use of the term
“reactionary” and what could be the problem with “vast differences” in power
and wealth? Call these sorts of judgments what you will, Geuss’s denial of the
fact/value and the descriptive/normative distinctions cannot get around the fact
that they play a large role in his critique of moral theory. Reliance on “our” ethical
intuitions of justice and value is as inescapable for critical theory as for ideal moral
theory. So it cannot be that all our ethical intuitions are ideological and unreliable;
otherwise, “realist” political philosophy itself would not be possible.
But if so, then how are we to distinguish between those moral and evaluative
intuitions that are reliable and those that are not? Geuss is perhaps right that
historical and other inquiries of the kind he envisions are relevant to this task.
However, the usefulness of inquiry into the historical and cultural origins and
evolution of our political and moral concepts is limited. By itself it cannot tell
us whether our moral intuitions, or moral concepts, are false, distorted, or
illusory. Moreover, we do not need to investigate the origins of the concept of
subjective rights to see that Nozick’s account is in need of, but sorely lacking,
a justification of its fundamental claims regarding absolute property rights (see
responses to Nozick by Nagel, G. A. Cohen, and many others on this shortcom-
182 Ethics October 2009

ing). And even if the concepts of rights, justice, and so forth, have served and
continue in their myriad uses to serve ideological functions, this does not mean
that all moral conceptions of justice are misguided and illusory. In the end, we
have to accept at least some of our moral and evaluative convictions as reliable
even to engage in “realist political philosophy” as Geuss (and Williams) describe
it. No reasonable person would regard slavery or serfdom as justifiable under
any (except the most extreme) conditions. This considered conviction, along
with many others, provides a basis for assessing other less secure moral convic-
tions about which we might disagree—regarding economic justice and inequal-
ities of income, wealth, and economic power, for example. Realist inquiry may
go some way toward helping us to clarify our convictions in these matters, and
it would surely be relevant if critical inquiry into the roots of our considered
convictions does anything to shake them. But once they have been clarified and
refined, we ultimately have to rely on bringing our considered moral and evalu-
ative convictions into some kind of reflective equilibrium, not just for practical
reasons of actively engaging with the political world but even for philosophically
coherent reasons of effectively engaging in realist criticism.
Finally, unlike Geuss and Williams, I think there is a genuine need for a
political conception of justice in a democratic society for at least two reasons
that are entirely separate from the issue of “ideal theory” or moral philosophy
as a discipline. First, there are genuine practical questions that are confronted
by government agents regarding, for example, the specification and scope of
constitutional rights and limits on political power; or what is required to meet
peoples’ basic needs for nutrition, housing, medical care, and education; or the
specification of property rights and economic regulations of many kinds. There
are all sorts of questions regarding the distributive effects of economic and social
policies, banking and finance practices and regulations, land use and environ-
mental policies, pollution control, and so on, that currently are decided on
purely economic grounds, informed by cost-benefit analysis and some version
of the principle of utility. These questions have to be decided some way, and
economists, being who they are, naturally tend toward utilitarian solutions. Some-
times more enlightened regulators will take the distributive effects of economic
analyses into account, and then considerations of fair distribution may be bal-
anced intuitively against purely aggregative considerations. These are the normal
tools of government agencies, both in the United States and abroad, that cur-
rently forge the innumerable laws and regulations that profoundly influence
daily life. Rawls’s principles of justice provide alternative standards designed to
be more compatible with a democratic society and to address these kinds of
political questions. There may be other reasonable alternatives. But the political
reality is that some general normative principle or set of standards for distrib-
uting economic and other social benefits and burdens is inevitably going to be
relied upon in making these decisions in any society (even a “neo-Leninist”
society). It is far better, politically and ideologically speaking, for democratic
citizens to be made aware of, discuss, debate, and even determine these prin-
ciples themselves rather than to allow them to be made unchecked by unnamed
bureaucrats without anyone’s public knowledge or democratic supervision. Pub-
lic knowledge of the social and economic standards that ground our relations
 Book Reviews 183

goes at least some way toward relieving the ideological mystification that Geuss
condemns.
This suggests a second role for a political conception of justice—its role in
public political justification. In a democratic society, at least, citizens owe to each
other an accounting of the exercise of political power and a justification of social
and economic norms, whether coercive or not, that structure their relations as
citizens and as economic agents. Public political justification is not simply a
matter of mutual respect but a condition of the freedom and independence of
equal citizens. It is crucial if we are to avoid the very ideological mystification
that Geuss finds us prone to. It is ironic, then, that he finds no role for such
public justification. Even Williams’s political realism accepts the moral demand
that “the state has to offer a justification of its power to each subject” (Williams,
In the Beginning, 4). Unlike Williams, I do not see how a full justification of the
kind he calls for can be provided in a modern democratic society without a
political conception of justice. But whereas Williams rejects any such abstract
moral or political conception on grounds of maintaining the integrity of ethical
intutions he endorses, Geuss’s rejection ultimately rests on calling into question
considered ethical intuitions themselves. Geuss thinks the liberal conception of
public justification is itself a species of ideological mystification. What is not
clear is whether he gives up on public justification altogether (but then, who
exactly engages in “critique”? and to whom is the critique addressed?) or, instead,
has a different conception of it (in which case, what is it?).
Either way, Geuss owes us a theory to back up his unsupported claims that
our considered moral convictions of right and justice are ideological. This is
not a request for a positive constructive alternative of the kind that Geuss rejects
as liberals’ way of controlling their critics (96). The Marxist concept of ideology
generally presupposes some account of social and political relations that are
obscured from peoples’ awareness by ideological concepts (of justice, religion,
etc.); Marx’s own account of ideological consciousness presupposed his historical
materialism, the labor theory of value, and a theory of exploitation of workers
due to capitalists’ extraction of surplus value. Very few theorists endorse Marx’s
theory of history or his economics any longer (although many see exploitation of
some form as still existing and condemn it as an injustice). What, then, is the
account of social and political relations that sustains Geuss’s accusations that our
convictions of right and justice are riddled with ideological illusions? It is not
worked out, but it seems to be based in Geuss’s Leninist view that politics is about
power relations—about “Who !does1 what to whom for whose benefit?” (25).
It would have been most helpful if Geuss had given some general indication
of the kinds of power relations (political and economic) that he regards as
legitimate and not prone to ideological illusion, and why. What is it about existing
power relations that leads/requires our current normative convictions and po-
litical theories to be ideological? Is any and every normative political principle
or theory, no matter the circumstances, condemned to ideological status—even
“From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs”? If so, why?
And if not, why not? Surely there is something constructive, and not just critical,
that philosophers have to contribute to the inevitable and morally necessary
discussions of the appropriate distribution of income and wealth and of political
and economic powers and positions of office and responsibility within society.
184 Ethics October 2009

A moral theory of justice does not need to present itself as having universal
application or validity. It can be “contextualist” too, drawn up to address the
circumstances of a modern democratic society and based on citizens’ perceived
and existing needs and a view of their fundamental interests (e.g., in maintaining
optimal conditions of human agency or in living a “meaningful life”).
Perhaps there have been political philosophers who have attempted to pre-
scribe “universal principles” from “the point of view of the universe.” If this were
all Geuss had in mind when he condemns the “ideal theory” of contemporary
political philosophy, then his criticisms are perhaps well taken. But political
philosophy, at its best (including Rawls’s ideal theory), has always engaged with
the normative ideas that are always and everywhere implicated by social and
political life. In condemning “ethical intutions” as ideological, Geuss implies
that our normative convictions are not to be respected and taken seriously. He
then shows that his real quarrel is not with philosophy but with normative
political discourse and the conviction held by large numbers of people that their
normative convictions matter, at least sometimes, in the conduct of politics. As
challenging and refreshingly original as Geuss’s realist political philosophy often
is, I do not think he has made the case against considered moral convictions
or those normative political philosophies that seriously engage with them and
the normative ideas implicit in “real world politics.”

Samuel Freeman
University of Pennsylvania

Gomberg, Paul. How to Make Opportunity Equal.

Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2007. Pp. vii!184.

Paul Gomberg says conflict in society has its main source not in religion or in
rival conceptions of the good but in race or more accurately the racial division
of labor (11). He denies that this problem can be solved in a capitalist society,
but in How to Make Opportunity Equal, Gomberg is not trying to win an argument.
He is trying to tell the truth. The six-year graduation rate at Chicago State
University, where Gomberg has taught for over twenty years, is under 20 percent
(9). His students have the will to win, or they wouldn’t be in college in the first
place. But they are inner-city blacks, and that tells us a lot about their chances
of success—indeed, more than it should.
Gomberg sees the market as fostering a degrading specialization. He says,
“We divide labor in two ways. First, we separate tasks of organization from those
of execution. This separation leads to a command relationship between those
who control the labor process and those who labor. . . . Second, among those
who labor, the work is divided into closely supervised labor requiring easily
mastered skills and more complex tasks carried out under less supervision” (11).
These distinctions matter. Both Gomberg and I worked for the post office: in
my case, for five years before going back to college; in Gomberg’s case, between
academic jobs. Gomberg isolates the exact thing that made our jobs good. As
a letter carrier, I came in every morning to find a pile of mail on my desk, and
my job was to get that mail into the right people’s mailboxes by the end of the