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Riidiger Bubner
Universal equality is the axis around which our everyday thinking of justice
turns. This commonsense notion of justice affects all levels of political discourse
and informs public opinion in all its diversity. Upon closer examination,
however, universal equality, because it excludes all differences, proves to be a
far from adequate standpoint from which to view justice. The complex question
of justice rules out all solutions which do not take seriously the problem of
differentiation. What follows in this paper is based on the assumption that
specific differences must be integrated into the concept of justice in such a way
that the particularity of circumstances and pertaining expectations are given
systematic consideration. The concrete conditions, under which all demands for
justice are made, must from the outset be given their due. No one calls for justice
in abstracto. Demands for justice are always made against the living backdrop of
individual expectations and motives beyond the reach of universal equality.
One of the oldest solutions to the problem of justice consists in applying the
principle of equality where each is to be given his or her due. The traditional
legal term suum cuique can be traced back to Platos Republic. To evoke the
ancient philosopher should by no means substitute historical authority for
sound philosophical argumentation. Just as little, however, should todays
readers ignore the insights afforded them by the ancients, because they believe
they know better, believe that because of the historical distance, there is nothing
for contemporary concerns to be gained from such antiquated theories. On
account of ideological bias, this unproductive attitude is prevalent with regard to
Plato. Towards the end of this paper, I will show that recourse to ancient Greek
theory does indeed shed light on current problems.
The possibility of opening up the concept of justice to include differentiation
finds its classical expression in a distinction bequeathed by Aristotle to all of
European jurisprudence and the Western tradition in general. It deals with
different perspectives involved in the consideration of so-called distributive and
commutative or corrective justice (iustitia distributiva and commutativa or
correctiva). Since justice does not hold to an abstract principle of equality to be
enforced at all costs, it requires a way of thinking about equality which allows for
observing a fundamental distinction. I will start from Aristotles classical
position in order to explain the distinction he made, and then reach behind his
philosophically influential formulation of the problem to its origin in Plato. It is
European /ouriial of Philosophy 3:2 l S S N 09663373 p p . 119-31, 0Blackwell Publishers Ltd. 1995. 108 Cowlry Road, Oxford
OX4 I F , UK, and 238 Main Street, Cambridge, MA 02142 USA.
120 Riid iger Bu bner
It must be kept in mind that Aristotle subsumes the problem of justice under
mesotes - a mode of thought which seeks to determine the mean between two
extremes.3This method of 'observing the mean' is used also in connection with
other problems in the Ethics. It is applied on a case-by-case basis, and requires
generating relations between two positions typically characterized as extremes,
as well as finding the mean in relation to the extremes of too much and too little.
Thus, courage, for example, stands midway between rashness and cowardice.
Accordingly, justice consists in locating equality between two extremes of
injustice, that is, what is excessive on the one side, and deficient on the other.
This can be thought of in two ways: justice either emerges in the form of
distribution (dianemetikon) or by means of rectification (diorthotikon). It is, thus,
applicable in different ways. This means, unequal perspectives are involved in
the production of equality which itself first comes into view only thanks to the
difference in perspectives. It is a question of aligning unequal things from
different standpoints. And it is first necessary to understand the way in which
the alignment makes manifest inequality in general, in order to formulate
properly concrete demands for equality in relation to this alignment. In this way,
a decisive step has been taken beyond commonsense notions of justice.
Equality should not hold true because, for example, all people are equal and,
therefore, must be treated equally. Anthropology, theology, metaphysics and
the philosophy of history have long since prepared the necessary theoretical
groundwork for such abstract thinking. Equality is fundamentally a political
c ~ t e g o r ywhose
,~ vital importance can be judged by the fact that where there is a
loss of regard for the standard of equality, political order is threatened by
instability. It is not a matter of achieving a transformation of a priori knowledge
of human nature. Rather, what is important, is political interest in order, an
order which sustains itself precisely because it is just, and its injustice consists in
either appropriate distribution or appropriate rectification. Distribution renders
what is unequal equal. Rectification or compensation, on the other hand, moves
within relations (synaIlagmata) which already presuppose a certain degree of
equality, but which have undergone change, so that ensuing inequalities must
be compensated. Let's take a closer look at what is involved in distribution and
rectification.
Distribution does not presuppose something in the nature of inherent equality.
Rather it considers many people who are inherently not equal as the same in
respect of uniform allotment of goods, honours, offices, entitlements, political
functions or responsibilities. Given natural differences, distributive justice
produces equality by active intervention. For example, in democratic forms of
government, all citizens have the right to vote. But the ability to participate in
the democratic process in a mass society, where the influence of the media is all-
pervasive, clearly shows that it would be an illusion to assume all voters,
whether in terms of knowledge or engagement, are equally competent to make
political judgments. Thanks to distribution this de facta inequality is adjusted.
Recfificafiun, in contrast, is concerned with differences and reacts to them in
different ways. It presupposes that individuals stand in relations which make
them similar to one another. Remaining differences are offset by granting one
person more, the other less, and not all to the same degree. In this sense, each
receives his or her due, and therein consists equality.
The intricate economic, political and social relations, which have arisen in the
wake of German unity, can serve as an example for how rectificatory justice
seeks to equalize differences. All citizens of the state stand in a specific relation
to one another. This relation necessitates numerous and various efforts to
compensate for lost ownership of property, past injustices, degradations and
set-backs in development. Rehabilitation, compensation, institutional support
and economic aid will turn out to be completely different according to individual
circumstances. In order to ensure proper compensation, one person may be
given more than another, just as more may be demanded from one person than
from another.
I11
This is what, for instance, Plato means in the Republic, when he writes that the
origin of the polis 'is to be found in the fact that we do not severally suffice for
our own needs, but each of us lacks many things'.6 In the transition to division
of labour and market mechanisms, an economic community, thus, develops out
of a teleology rooted in the concept of coordinated action. What one person
alone can never attain, moves into the realm of possibility and is impelled
towards realization, once an institutional framework, which finds its completion
in the state, is built up around a core of a ~ t i o nBy
. ~ emphasizing the practical,
today's reader is able to recover real, political meaning from the organization of
Plato's state without being confronted at every turn by an unacceptable
metaphysics. Those who are not tripped u p by the obscurity of the so-called
'doctrine of ideas', will understand better the problem of order within the scope
of differences in human action.
In fact, the problem of order emerges seamlessly from observing how actions
are performed, brought to their completion, and their plurality given due
recognition without being reduced to homogeneity at the cost of alienation. To
consider the problem of order in this way, does not require a step from a fictive
state of nature to a state of law. It does not require the circular argumentation
involved in establishing the state by recourse to a social contract which must
enlist, so to speak, the law before the laws in order to legitimize what results
from the contract. It does not require a 'veil' of ignorance, an idealization of
communication, an a priori of a 'metaphysics of morals', or whatever other
explanations modern theoreticians, from Kant to Rawls and Habermas, have to
offer. Where each does his or her own, all individuals are acknowledged in their
concrete, practical roles. At the same time, every individual is put in cooperation
with other individuals who themselves pursue, within the circumferences of
their own activities, their respective aims without working at cross-purposes to
one another and causing a mutual obstruction of aims.
In order to bring into sharper focus the underlying normative idea at work
here, it is important to determine what distinguishes ancient Greek practical
philosophy from modern concerns. The crucial difference is that the ancients do
not presuppose a subject who is left undetermined in regard to concrete action,
so that this indeterminacy, in the practical realm, is explained in terms of self-
determination in relation to other subjects and objects in the world. On the one
hand, other subjects play a role for the autonomous subject as antagonists who
cause conflicts concerning what is mine and thine, until, that is, the further step
is taken by which they are all recognized as being equally legitimate contenders
for the title of free subject. On the other hand, objects in the world come into
view for the autonomous subject as reference points within his or her own
constellation of desires. The free will's orientation towards objects is one of
appropriation, of making this or that object its own. Corresponding to the free
will, is the possessive character of the legal distinction of mine and thine.
Between subject and object, there is a complex dialectic at play, which seeks to
transform subjects into objects. This dialectic is brought to a standstill only
where there is mutual recognition among subjects. Beginning with Fichte,8 this
IV
For Plato, equality means taking account of inequality. Justice is not realized by a
secondary levelling out of relevant differences, but rather in abstaining from
interferring at all in fundamental differences. In deference to concrete situations,
Platos concept of justice acknowledges, with institutional consequences, the
unique features of practical characters specifically with regard to their differ-
ences. Those who are put off by the principle of acknowledging differences
within an institutional framework, may consider this. Not every inequality is
due to external circumstances. There are indeed inequalities which can be said to
inhere in a substantial sense in individuals. Of course, there are also those forms
of inequality which arise from given circumstances and affect people in adverse
ways, but nevertheless remain external to them. No one, including Plato, would
want to dispute that these forms of inequality merit political recognition. Such
differences exist in various ways, and efforts to uphold justice are chiefly aimed
at dealing with them. To eliminate differences, resulting from factors beyond the
control of individuals and for which they are neither by their deeds nor their
actions responsible, is an imperative fundamental to the modern welfare state
affecting it at all levels. According to this imperative, the state, by means of
social support, is obliged to create conditions, where, in terms of external
circumstances, citizens find themselves in relations which satisfy basic standards
of fairness.
century, the need to conform has reached excessive proportions. Obsession with
political unity, totalitarian organizations, political tribunals, show trials and
those appalling events, aimed at disciplining 'undesirable' tendencies towards
independence of spirit and orignality, are some of the more extreme examples
of how the compulsion to conform can lead to dire political and social
consequences.
In the face of such phenomena, justice demands protection against b o p s and
thoughtless egalitarianism. The legal claim, conceding the particularity of every
member of a political community, constitutes a bulwark against the pressures of
public sentiment and the unpredictable vicissitudes of dominant opinion.
According to Habermas, and other contributors to communication theory, the
last remaining standard of rationality available to modern society is a public
forum where issues of importance are openly debated among members of a
political community. But in order not to be taken in by the theor,7 7 ' s seductive
claim that the public is sufficiently enlightened to participate in this 'ideal
dialogue', it is necessary to maintain a vigilant attitude towards what is, in fact,
the public's deep-rooted ambivalence. Public opinion vacillates between
enlightenment and manipulation, and therefore resists being clearly defined.' In
the dialectic of emancipation, which results in a subtle form of oppression, this
sort of wishful anticipation of ideal circumstances remains altogether un-
convincing. As we realized, even before the downfall of socialism, it is
imperative to keep a critical eye on this dialectic at work in everyday politics.
This is where the dilemma of liberalism belongs. In his influential book, The Open
Society and its Enemies, Karl Popper fought vehemently on behalf of liberalism
and against the threat posed to it by Plato, Hegel and Marx. Written in exile, this
book was a call-to-arms against totalitarianism, and when it appeared at the end
of the Second World War, it showed the vestiges of its time. Liberalism is
simplified and idealized, while anachronistic opponents are simply black-listed.
In spite of the book's remarkable thoroughness and precision, the author's
polemical intentions dominate throughout." Anyone in the present or in the
future who wants to fight against the powers of totalitarianism must find, in
regard to the main issues, an alternative modus operandi to that of blaming
bygone theories for current suffering.
In the middle of the 19th century, John Stuart Mill, certainly to be counted
among the true exponents of liberalism, had already identified the dilemma. It
consists, according to Mill, in the conundrum of how to propagate individual
freedom, while, at the same time, accommodating the will of the majority.
Following in Humboldt's footsteps," he maintained that the state must not
involve itself in the private affairs of its citizens. As is well known, the idea that
the state has no business interfering in the citizen's private world has become
liberalisms standard credo. Mill feared, however, that people, once freed from
the state by the state, would then succumb to the superhuman, faceless power
of public opinion. A s he writes: Protection, therefore, against the tyranny of the
magistrate is not enough: there needs also protection against the tyranny of the
prevailing opinion and feeling.
Originally, liberalism aimed at keeping the private and public spheres so
hermetically sealed off from each other, that nothing would concern the state
which could be declared a private matter. Consequently, government was
relegated to the essentially negative function of creating an undefined free space
within the private sphere13 where everyone might develop with impunity
according to their own interests. But in the indeterminacy of this political no-
mans land, every individual is easily swallowed up by anonymity. Here
individuality dissolves into Weltanschauung, becomes a matter of belief and
persuasion, and forfeits its political relevance. At least, it can be said of Hegels
theory of institutions, that it recognized the importance of providing political
support for the particularity of different groups within the state. In this respect,
Hegel offered modern, political thinking what still seems to be the only theory
combining fundamental recognition of subjectivity with institutional support for
the subjects individuality.
With the advent of mass organizations and wide-ranging interest groups, the
political individuality of citizens has lost its footing. Only large constituencies,
formed around general political conditions, can be effectively organized and
managed. Democratic parties, competing for the middle ground, provide a
telling example of this phenomenon. On the one hand, because they want to
represent the majority of the people, these parties are forced to reconcile all
abiding as well as all fluctuating differences. But, on the other hand, as
supposedly separate political parties, they must also be distinguishable from one
another. What, in the end, marks out one party from the other, are slick phrases
and party slogans, while political decisions are reduced to barometric readings
of the daily ups and downs in the prevailing mood.
It is with good reason that pluralism requires beyond the private sphere that
politically identifiable individuals are allowed to cultivate their differences
which, from a formal standpoint, are insignificant and must remain insignificant.
As opposed to the negative determination of the liberal state, pluralism
programmatically encourages public endorsement of differences in the practical
realm. In the public sphere, political institutions are expected to co-operate in
cases of concrete differences among citizens. This certainly goes far beyond the
states mute tolerance based on systematic indifference towards the private
sector.
VI
Now, who can say what the just order for the state should be? He who
understands what for each his own is. The answer is aimed at the philosopher
king. And, as it has been true since Plato's time, this answer must once again
face 'billows of laughter and h corn'.'^ Because the scope of this theme extends
far beyond the question of how to obtain political justice, a few theses will be
only cursorily dealt with here.I5 The central problem can be made plausible
independently of the delicate question of whether such a state can in fact be
realized.
It should be noted first, that the philosopher king, like the Roman god Janus,
has two faces looking in opposite directions. In terms of the Republic, this means,
that either the rulers begin to think deeply about their political functions, or
those who think deeply are compelled to serve political functions. The
appearance of the Janus-faced figure, thus, symbolizes a paradox which calls for
resolution. And it is indeed possible to navigate around this paradox within the
political realm without resorting to the solution of filling vacant offices with
ready-made experts. While the powerful find reflection difficult, the philosophers
want to evade, at all costs, the onerous duty of ruling. Since they take refuge in
pure inquiry, it must be explained to them that within the structure of the
politeia, when they are attending to their own affairs, they are, in fact, doing
nothing other than practising justice. When each does his own, it is their own that
helps each to come into his own. Is this conviction founded upon arrogance, crass
patronage, hypertrophic rationalism?"
For the sake of the political whole, it cannot be left to the discretion of
individuals to determine what their own is or should be. This, admittedly,
sounds outrageous. But when we bring to mind the chain of events by which we
all find our way in life, it is evident that the events themselves are never entirely
of our own making, nor do we ever have complete command over their
consequences. The objective functions we come to serve, the results of what we
achieve, seldom coincide, if at all, with our inward desires and our most
cherished dreams. But those who remain forever undecided, who merely play
with the possibility of assuming this or that role in life, who often and arbitrarily
change their work, wind up not really fitting in anywhere at all. It is only when
people are employed in occupations where they are expected to assume
responsibilities and produce results, that they first begin the slow and
cumulative process of identifying with what they do. The playful experiment-
ation in preparation for the serious business of life ends only when in all
earnestness people are able to say to themselves: You belong here and nowhere else!
Those of us who have to work with young people know what a difficult
pedagogical task it is to give direction to students. They are quite right to
suppose that they are entitled 'to do their own thing' in life. But because they are
just starting out, they often do not know what it is or where to find it. The notion
that it is the business of universities to teach universally applicable 'living
techniques', is reminiscent of the educational programme offered by the ancient
sophists. The sophists promised all those who could pay the fees and complete
the course of study, that they would be prepared for any role in the polis they
wanted to serve. Over against the sophists, whose influence Plato saw as posing
the greatest challenge of his time, the author of the Republic insists, only the wise
are up to the political task of determining the appropriate field of activity for
each member of the polis. Only the wise can fulfil this all-important function,
because only the wise have true insight into the structure of the whole. And in
fact it is against the backdrop of the whole that members of a political
community find their respective places.
Knowing ones appropriate calling, however, does not imply having know-
ledge of the rest. Normally, people are able to pursue and realize their interests
in what they do and in what they accomplish, even though they might fail to
develop a corresponding awareness of themselves and those around them. Praxis
and self-awareness do not necessarily coincide. This form of consciousness,
which is in keeping with our situations in life and with our positions in relation
to others vis-d-uis their respective situations, grows slowly in the course of praxis
and with our ever wider experiences of it. Most of us do eventually acquire from
our work the appropriate awareness of our world and our place in it. At the
beginning, however, we do no possess the sort of knowledge which would help
us determine from scratch what our own should be. This is a paradox which
confronts us over and over again in the course of our everyday lives. If people,
for whatever reasons, do not develop this awareness of their positions in
relation to everyone elses positions, they can still find real satisfaction in what
they do, and thus, without doubt, render outstanding service to the whole. To
identify oneself with ones work is not primarily a matter of weighing, from the
outside or beforehand, the various possibilities of how to do it, but in doing it,
i.e., in bringing the work to completion. For this reason, the task of steering
individuals to exactly where they will find the centre of their interests, can
hardly be left to the individuals themselves. The role of education, to which
Plato paid the greatest attention, should be to monitor and direct the gradual
transition from socialization to work. According to the natural scheme of things,
the responsibility of education to help people find their positions in life, must
remain provisional and restricted. After completing their education and cultural
development, the responsibility for making something of their lives always
reverts to the individuals themselves. The above commonsense considerations
should bring us a little closer to understanding the special task Plato assigns the
role of philosopher king.
The full responsibility for the conduct of a persons life cannot be assumed in
any way by someone else. There is no other life lived here. What is important is
that so long as people attend to their own affairs, pursue their own interests,
they uct neither on behalf of someone else nor upon orders from above. They remain
centered in their work and realize its potential. It can hardly be asked of any one
person, however, to command a panoramic view of all the intricate relations
which connect his or her work to the work of others. Only the ubiquitous
sophists, who look for their own in the universal, fit in everywhere and, as Plato
diagnosed, lose themselves in the busy to-and-fro of their manifold activities
(polyprugmosyne). The responsibility for what the individual can never know and
adequately oversee must be transferred, therefore, to a representative. In other
words, it should not be left unconsidered how the intricate relations within the
structure of the whole take shape, even if such a question extends beyond the
individual's natural interest in his or her own affairs.
At the very heart of the Republic, Plato draws our attention to the importance
of this question, when he writes in connection with the image of the idea of the
good:
This central statement of the Republic must find its necessary affirmation. It
should be interpreted to show that the figure of the philosopher king represents
not so much a realistic programme for reform, as the symbolization of the
fundamental problem of political order. Consideration of multiplicity must be
reconciled with the demand for unity implicit in the task of building true order.
As political actors, people have no other choice but to entrust this veritable,
superhuman balance to a representative. They are not able to achieve such a
reconciliation by themselves, because, whether separately within the narrow
circumferences of their own individual affairs or together with others, they
remain focused on the particularity of their own interests and cannot see the
whole. The good life for all in the cave depends on a chosen few who have left
the cave in order to descend once again into its depths. Although they now have
an overall view of the whole, they nevertheless take their places among the
citizens.
Thus, the problem of political order, as symbolized by the figure of the
philosopher king, involves a doubling of perspectives. Helping everyone else to
come into their own, he stands at the heart of a multiplicity of particular
interests, yet, at the same time, keeps the whole in view. I will conclude by
jumping into the middle of a debate concerning the dilemma of present-day
liberalism. Michael Walzer accuses Rawls and his followers of building, with
their paradigm theories, a 'Procrustian bed' which fits no one. Instead of sealing
themselves off from the world for the sake of constructing their abstract, artificial
theories, critics, according to Walzer, should position themselves not too far
away from the centre of society, so that they are able to keep in sight how their
contemporaries live out their lives. Only the idealized designer of philosophical
theories functions in isolation, utterly removed from the life of the whole.
According to Walzer, the philosopher remains in the cave, just as the Old
Testament prophets did not leave their people stranded in the desert." Walzer
summarizes his highly detailed and vivid inquiry into justice and the conditions
of pluralism when he writes: 'different outcomes for different people in different
s p h e r e s make a just society. For the preceding discussion of Plato, this would
not be a n i n a p p r o p r i a t e motto.
NOTES
for a civil order grounded in consensus. External to the contract, however, is the
designated authority of the independent lawgiver who is necessary for formulating, in
detail, the content of the will. The ligislateur is needed to tell the general will what it
actually wants. The general will is purely a formal principle of political legitimation,
whose concrete application is in the hands of a quasi-mythical personage resembling, in
many ways, the figure of the philosopher king. Unfortunately, this extremely important
passage is for the most part left out of considerations of the Contrat social.
As historical incarnations of the spirit of the lawgiver, Rousseau refers to the wise man
(Lycurgus), the reform theologian (Calvin), and those founders of nations who appeal
to divine intervention (Moses, for example). All of these figures are meant to have shown
their influence in the working out of the idea of the Republic. The following two passages
are cited from The Social Contract or Principles of Political Right, in Rousseau (1974):
The lawgiver is in every respect an extraordinary man in the state . . . [His]
function is neither administrative nor sovereign. It institutes the republic but has
no place in its institutions. It is a private and superior function which has
nothing in common with human dominion. (I1 7 p. 36).
How can a blind multitude, which often does not know what it means because it
seldom knows what is good for it, accomplish on its own such a great and
difficult undertaking as the promulgation of a system of law? Of itself, the
people always wills the good, but does not always see it. The general will is
always well-meaning, but the judgment that guides it is not always enlightened.
(I1 6 p. 35).
In this connection, Rousseau refers to Platos dialogue, the Statesman.
l7 Plato, Republic, 505 d, 506 a.
Walzer (1983), 320.
REFERENCES