Lena Halldenius

This chapter demonstrates how Mary Wollstonecraft (1759–97) uses feminist principles to modify and adapt the republican ideal of freedom as the absence of domination or dependence. It shows that, according to Wollstonecraft, freedom consists in the secure entitlement to act in accordance with the dictates of reason—a freedom that depends upon the possession of a certain social standing and the absence of a dominating master. Crucially, according to this chapter, freedom from domination is relational: it bestows a special status on the moral subject in relation to others. Freedom from subjugation thus gives the individual a certain empowerment, or certain entitlement, with respect to other members of society. The chapter ends by showing how Wollstonecraft takes this idea to its logical feminist conclusion: a call for the equal rights of men and women in civil society.

Wollstonecraft was a republican thinker and so it is reasonable to expect in her writings a notion of political society as representative, but how? After placing Wollstonecraft in relation to contemporary republicanism, we can see that Wollstonecraft’s notion of representation operates on different levels of right: constitutional and political. The “what” that is represented is, respectively, authority of the people and the perspectives of groups or classes. The people as an abstract, idealized union, so crucial for many republicans, makes sense only on the constitutional level. The political field of law-making and policy is an agonistic one where representation has to be practical and no unity is to be expected beyond class or group interests. That is why women and the labouring classes need to have their _own_ interests represented by representatives who share their interests and perspectives.

In this article I discuss different ways of conceptualising the relation between liberty and law. By ‘law’ I refer throughout to law in the sense of civil law: rules with accompanying sanctions, promulgated by a legislator for the regulation of action in political society. I do not intend to say anything about ‘natural law’, unless I explicitly state otherwise. For the purposes of my argument I will loosely group the positions I discuss under different labels: ‘liberty from the law’, ‘liberty by the law’, and ‘liberty under law’. There is nothing self-serving about these labels; indeed, they may appear simplistic and historically inept. I use them to direct our attention and in order to illustrate a general point that I wish to make, a point that seems to me to fall out of the preceeding discussion. That point is that concepts like liberty are institution dependent and that we cannot hope to understand or even talk about what they mean without adhering to that fact. To anticipate, I will argue that even when liberty is understood in terms of the absence of law, the presence of law or the possibility of its presence will have to be assumed in principle in order for its absence to make sense.

This article offers a moral and logical critique of human rights minimalism, by which is meant an account that restricts human rights to a level of sufficiency above or beyond which inequalities have no moral relevance, and which makes duties prior to rights, such that rights are dependent on assumed or actual institutional capacities. The argument is that human rights minimalism fails by its own standards – to represent moral equality – on two counts. First, it is predicated on a principle of moral equality of human beings, yet can produce no arguments against even the starkest inequalities of living conditions. Second, by making rights a dependent variable to the reasonableness of duties, what rights people have will in effect be the product of contingent institutional capacities. For a truly egalitarian commitment to human rights, minimalism is the wrong philosophy. A point made is that inequality is politically constructed, and institutional capacities will partly be a function of such constructed inequalities. Any reasonable account of human rights needs to have resources within itself to criticise those constructed inequalities that negatively affect institutional capacities to protect and promote rights. With inspiration from Anderson’s analysis of the point of equality, it is argued here that human rights have a dual rationale: a negative one to end oppression, and a positive one to establish a political culture of democratic equality.

Annelien de Dijn’s Freedom: An Unruly History is a rich and thought-provoking work in intellectual history, tracing thinking and debating about political freedom in the West from ancient Greece to our own times. The ancient notion of freedom as self-government (what Quentin Skinner calls neo-roman liberty) is referred to as the ‘democratic conception’. The argument is that this conception survived through the renaissance, the early-modern period and the 18th-century Atlantic revolutions only to be deliberately scrapped in the 19th century in favour of liberal freedom – absence of state interference – thus severing the ancient links between freedom and democracy and turning democracy into a threat to freedom. The book is an impressive achievement and the use of sources staggeringly wide. However, though the liberal turn is certainly a fact of history, I am not convinced that it was such a decisive break, nor that the relations between conceptions of freedom and attitudes to democracy are as clear-cut as de Dijn needs them to be. De Dijn claims, with regret, that the liberal view remains our view and is now an essential part of Western civilization, but I find that to be empirically under-substantiated. By using the liberal turn to define an age, de Dijn lets history play out through the lens of the elite.

This article is a critical analysis of Ingrid Robeyns’ “economic limitarianism” (2017, 2019, 2022), the suggestion that there is a moral case against allowing people to be richer than they need to be in order to achieve full flourishing. Wealth above a certain “riches line” lacks value and should be capped at that level. Robeyns claims that limitarianism is justified as a partial theory of economic justice, since vast wealth is a threat to political equality and the revenue raised from taxing wealth can be used to meet urgent needs. She also claims that limitarianism is problem-driven philosophy and should be judged by its capacity to address problems in the world as it is. The argument in this article is that limitarianism fails on its own premises, both as partial theory of justice and as guide to decision-making. The arguments invoked in its favour as theory does not provide reasons to support it over other redistributive schemes. As guide to practical action, it runs counter to what empirical research reveals about how attitudes to economic inequality works in that people’s acceptance of inequality adjusts: the more unequal a society is, the more inequality is accepted as fair. By disregarding inequalities below the riches-line as well as the economic system that produces them, limitarianism has no tools for countering this adjustment and risks legitimating a politics of inequality. Anyone who shares Robeyns’ concerns about economic inequality have reason to be wary of limitarianism.

European Journal of Political Theory, Volume 21, Issue 1, Page 197-207, January 2022. Annelien de Dijn’s Freedom: An Unruly History is a rich and thought-provoking work in intellectual history, tracing thinking and debating about political freedom in the West from ancient Greece to our own times. The ancient notion of freedom as self-government is referred to as the ‘democratic conception’. The argument is that this conception survived through the renaissance, the early-modern period and the 18th-century Atlantic revolutions only to be deliberately scrapped in the 19th century in favour of liberal freedom – absence of state interference – thus severing the ancient links between freedom and democracy and turning democracy into a threat to freedom. The book is an impressive achievement and the use of sources staggeringly wide. However, though the liberal turn is certainly a fact of history, I am not convinced that it was such a decisive break, nor that the relations between conceptions of freedom and attitudes to democracy are as clear-cut as de Dijn needs them to be. De Dijn claims, with regret, that the liberal view remains our view and is now an essential part of Western civilization, but I find that to be empirically under-substantiated. By using the liberal turn to define an age, de Dijn lets history play out through the lens of the elite.

This article offers an analysis of Sophie de Grouchy’s Letters on Sympathy [1798]. The focus is on the republican implications of her views on sympathy, with comparisons to Adam Smith and Mary Wollstonecraft. Critical attention is paid to claims made on de Grouchy’s behalf that her philosophy is republican and that she offers republican arguments for gender and class equality. These claims are made by Sandrine Bergès [2021] in ‘Revolution and Republicanism: Women Political Philosophers of Late Eighteenth-Century France and Why They Matter’ to which this paper is an invited commentary. This paper does not dispute that de Grouchy’s thought is republican but concludes (1) that her Letters are conspicuously silent on women’s citizenship rights and that the gendered conceptual world of republican thought can account for that, and (2) that any commitment to equality of wealth is negated by her definition of property rights. Since gender and class equality would have been a subversion rather than an application of late eighteenth-century republican thought, this makes de Grouchy a more recognisable republican than Wollstonecraft, whose philosophy explicitly included a commitment to equality of wealth and equal citizenship rights for women.

In this chapter it is argued that Mary Wollstonecraft’s political is best characterized as ‘feminist republicanism’. Wollstonecraft’s feminism challenges republicanism from within. The republican movement used the language of rights and liberty in arguments for popular sovereignty and against despotic and aristocratic privilege. Wollstonecraft articulated her feminism within and against this movement, which argued for the rights of all while taking for granted that ‘all’ is properly represented by white men with property. Her feminism requires the dismantling of all hierarchies, for the sake of freedom and virtue. Many have read Wollstonecraft as a liberal. If by liberal one simply means a philosophy based on natural rights and a principle of individual liberty, then Wollstonecraft was a liberal, but we do not gain any understanding of the particulars of her thinking in that way. The republican conception of personal freedom – independence or freedom from arbitrary rule – is an organising principle in Wollstonecraft’s thought. This conception of freedom feeds her feminist critique of republicanism: the sexism of republicanism is found in the definitional association of liberty and virtue with maleness. Of equal importance is her critical take on the civic humanist discourse of virtue as a way of living freely in society. Virtue is not a set of rules; it is the learnt habit of a resolute and independent personal character. This in turn requires that a person receives rational education and is treated with equal respect. Women are deliberately kept out of this sphere of moral progress. When Wollstonecraft ironically notes that ‘truth, fortitude and humanity’ are seen to be ‘manly morals’ she attacks, from within, the republican language that makes virtue into a male domain.

Is there a political theory in Mary Wollstonecraft’s writings? The question is relevant since Wollstonecraft’s main preoccupation was moral rather than political: the duty of every thinking person to strive to make themselves as good as they can be. This is a complex duty, involving independent thought, acting on principles of reason, and making oneself useful to others. The challenge involved in this endeavor is a recurrent theme in most of what she wrote. The idiosyncrasies of Wollstonecraft’s political theory are partially a reaction to republican principles but from within republican commitments. I analyse some of the features that make her republicanism distinctive: the moral ends of government, her suspicion of the republican trope of “the people”, and her conflicted views on revolution. I conclude with her critique of hierarchies of privilege and wealth.

This article offers an analysis of Sophie de Grouchy’s Letters on Sympathy [1798]. The focus is on republican implications of her views on sympathy, with comparisons to Adam Smith and Mary Wollstonecraft. Critical attention is paid to claims made on de Grouchy’s behalf that her philosophy is republican and that she offers republican arguments for gender and class equality. These claims are made by Sandrine Bergès in Revolution and Republicanism: Women Political Philosophers of Late Eighteenth-Century France and Why They Matter, Australian Philosophical Review 2020, to which this paper is an invited commentary. This paper does not dispute that de Grouchy’s thought is republican but concludes that her Letters are conspicuously silent on women’s citizenship rights and that the gendered conceptual world of republican thought can account for that and that any commitment to equality of wealth is negated by her definition of property rights. Since gender and class equality would have been a subversion rather than an application of late eighteenth-century republican thought, this makes de Grouchy a more recognizable republican than Wollstonecraft, whose philosophy explicitly included a commitment to equality of wealth and equal citizenship rights for women.

It is my contention here that Quentin Skinner’s conception of neo-roman liberty as it is articulated in Liberty Before Liberalism serves to establish two normative premises for human rights philosophy. Those premises are, first, that human rights should offer the strongest protection for those persons who are most vulnerable and liable to social and political discrimination and marginalisation. Second, the objects of human rights should be conceptualised in terms of open-ended goals of justice, predicated on a commitment to structural equality. I will have reason to refer to a reflection that Skinner makes on utopianism and how the “classic liberal case” of liberty can be associated with a critique of utopianism in political theory. By utopianism Skinner means – with reference to William Paley – a political theory that incorporates into its concepts demands that cannot be met without a fundamental change of practice and which moves beyond what it is at present reasonable for most people to expect of life. On this understanding, Skinner points out, John Rawls’s A Theory of Justice is a utopian treatise: it does not adapt to whatever is politically feasible but sets a challenging standard of justice for political institutions. I would qualify this by saying that the challenging nature of Rawls’s theory of justice is connected to the fact that it is systemic rather than utopian. A fear of the charge of utopianism is one of the recurrent features of human rights philosophy as we know it today. This is manifest in an incongruous tendency to join a moral philosophy of the good life with a political theory of basic provisions and life at the subsistence level. I hope to show that there is a consistent neo-roman case to be made for a more politically challenging human rights philosophy.

In this chapter it is argued that Mary Wollstonecraft’s political is best characterized as ‘feminist republicanism’. Wollstonecraft’s feminism challenges republicanism from within. The republican movement used the language of rights and liberty in arguments for popular sovereignty and against despotic and aristocratic privilege. Wollstonecraft articulated her feminism within and against this movement, which argued for the rights of all while taking for granted that ‘all’ is properly represented by white men with property. Her feminism requires the dismantling of all hierarchies, for the sake of freedom and virtue. Many have read Wollstonecraft as a liberal. If by liberal one simply means a philosophy based on natural rights and a principle of individual liberty, then Wollstonecraft was a liberal, but we do not gain any understanding of the particulars of her thinking in that way. The republican conception of personal freedom – independence or freedom from arbitrary rule – is an organising principle in Wollstonecraft’s thought. This conception of freedom feeds her feminist critique of republicanism: the sexism of republicanism is found in the definitional association of liberty and virtue with maleness. Of equal importance is her critical take on the civic humanist discourse of virtue as a way of living freely in society. Virtue is not a set of rules; it is the learnt habit of a resolute and independent personal character. This in turn requires that a person receives rational education and is treated with equal respect. Women are deliberately kept out of this sphere of moral progress. When Wollstonecraft ironically notes that ‘truth, fortitude and humanity’ are seen to be ‘manly morals’ she attacks, from within, the republican language that makes virtue into a male domain.

Is there a political theory in Mary Wollstonecraft’s writings? The question is relevant since Wollstonecraft’s main preoccupation was moral rather than political: the duty of every thinking person to strive to make themselves as good as they can be. This is a complex duty, involving independent thought, acting on principles of reason, and making oneself useful to others. The challenge involved in this endeavor is a recurrent theme in most of what she wrote. The idiosyncrasies of Wollstonecraft’s political theory are partially a reaction to republican principles but from within republican commitments. I analyse some of the features that make her republicanism distinctive: the moral ends of government, her suspicion of the republican trope of “the people”, and her conflicted views on revolution. I conclude with her critique of hierarchies of privilege and wealth.

The aim of this paper is to make it credible that there are feminist reasons for being a republican about freedom. In focus is Quentin Skinner’s conception of republican, or “neo-Roman”, freedom. Republican theory in history has not excelled in making poverty, gender hierarchy, and racism within the republic into main sources of concern. So can there be a radical republican theory of liberty fit for a feminist, to make sense of arbitrary power in the every day life of work, households, and local communities, where power is vague and unorganized? Proceeding from three questions – What does freedom mean? Under what circumstances does the issue arise? Why should we care? – I argue that in a feminist republicanism the lived experience of the unfree will have primary and not, as Skinner now suggests, secondary importance. A feminist republican will be particularly concerned not only with what unfreedom is but with what it is like.

Deep brain stimulation (DBS) is a developing technology. New generations of DBS technology are already in the pipeline, yet this particular fact has been largely ignored among ethicists interested in DBS. Focusing only on ethical concerns raised by the current DBS technology is, albeit necessary, not sufficient. Since current bioethical concerns raised by a specific technology could be quite different from the concerns it will raise a couple of years ahead, an ethical analysis should be sensitive to such alterations, or it could end up with results that soon become dated. The goal of this analysis is to address these changing bioethical concerns, to think ahead on upcoming and future DBS concerns both in terms of a changing technology and changing moral attitudes. By employing the distinction between inherent and noninherent bioethical concerns we identify and make explicit the particular limits and potentials for change within each category, respectively, including how present and upcoming bioethical concerns regarding DBS emerge and become obsolete. Many of the currently identified ethical problems with DBS, such as stimulation-induced mania, are a result of suboptimal technology. These challenges could be addressed by technical advances, while for instance perceptions of an altered body image caused by the mere awareness of having an implant may not. Other concerns will not emerge until the technology has become sophisticated enough for new uses to be realized, such as concerns on DBS for enhancement purposes. As a part of the present analysis, concerns regarding authenticity are used as an example.

A structural affinity between republican freedom as non-domination and human rights claims accounts for the relevance of republicanism for cosmopolitan concerns. Central features of republican freedom are its institution dependence and the modal aspect it adds to being free. Its chief concern is not constraint, but the way in which an agent is constrained or not. To the extent I am vulnerable to someone’s dispositional power over me I am not free, even if I am not in fact constrained. Republican freedom adds a substantial element to a justification of human rights in terms of entitlement, rather than mere satisfaction of interests. A satisfied interest is not a satisfied right if the satisfaction is dependent on personal goodwill and can be withdrawn at any time. Like republican freedom, human rights claims add a modal aspect to enjoyment. Both can be violated by institutional arrangement alone and can be secured only within accountable institutions. National borders may well be irrelevant to the dispositional powers to which people are vulnerable. An international set of institutions globalizes those circumstances in which republican liberty arises as a concern.

History plays an important role in the philosophy of human rights, more so than in philosophical discussions on related concepts, such as justice. History tends to be used in order to make it credible that there is a tradition of rights as a moral idea, or an ethical ideal, that transcends national boundaries. In the example that I investigate in this chapter, this moral idea is tightly spun around the moral dignity of the human person. There has been a shift in conceptions of human rights during the twentieth century, from ‘politics of the state to the morality of the globe’. Rather than figuring in, or as, constitutional principles of the political life of a polity and the relation between a state and its members, the notion of rights has come to serve as the name of a state- and politics-transcending ethical position on the status of the human person, and the relations between human persons. Given that this move from politics of the state to morality of the globe is a recent one, it goes without saying that trying to ground a state-transcending morality of human rights with the help of early modern history is problematic. Still, philosophers of this kind of morality of human rights are prone to claiming, for their accounts, a long-standing human rights tradition that, frankly, is not there, at least not in that form. One example is James Griffin, whose reliance on what he refers to as a historical notion of human rights is the focus of my critical discussion here. Griffin claims that ‘our’ concept of human rights is a product of eighteenth century Enlightenment thought. If ‘our’ concept of human rights is Griffin’s concept, then his claim is false – as I show. I agree, however, that the eighteenth century is a pivotal moment, but if we wish to understand natural rights in eighteenth century thought, we need to grasp the fact that power over others, and the capacity of those who hold that power to also abuse it, was not a contingent concern, or merely part of the extension of a concept defined prior to, or independently of, any such concern. It was built into the concept itself; it was its very point.

In this article, John Locke's accounts of political liberty and legitimate government are read as expressions of a normative demand for non-arbitrariness. I argue that Locke locates infringements of political liberty in dependence on the arbitrary will of another, whether or not interference or restraint actually takes place. This way Locke is tentatively placed in that tradition of republican thought recently brought to our attention by Pettit, Skinner and others. This reading shifts the focus on legitimacy and identifies the independent moral argument for legitimate government as ruling for the good of the people. Consent is left with a hypothetical role to play

Halldenius argues that we should regard Mary Wollstonecraft as a feminist republican, drawing out the implications of reading her in that way for the meaning and role of freedom in Wollstonecraft’s philosophy. Her republicanism directs our attention to the fact that freedom for Wollstonecraft is conceptualized in terms of independence, importantly in two analytically distinct yet heavily interdependent ways. There is a long philosophical tradition of treating moral freedom as an internal phenomenon, as an aspect of freedom of the will. Wollstonecraft makes this inner freedom politically conditioned. Liberty is independence in relation to others and in relation to the law and institutions of society, but also a kind of inner intellectual independence. Attending to the dynamics between the external and internal aspects of independence is crucial for our understanding of Wollstonecraft’s view of society and morality, but also of her philosophical method, which is to reason through lived experience. What liberty is and requires can only be articulated by “poor men, or philosophers”, as she puts it in A Vindication of the Rights of Men, 1790. Halldenius argues that the “poor man” here represents the philosophical vantage point. The view of the unprivileged, of those with no wealth or titles to lose, constitutes the disinterested, impartial view. Wollstonecraft’s emphasis on the lived experience of unfreedom and subordination as a valid source of knowledge implies that a crucial question regarding freedom and unfreedom is not only what freedom is, but what it is like.

In this article Hobbes's view of the commonwealth, and of law and liberty within it, is discussed from the point of view of social ontology. The artificial character of the commonwealth and the constitutive function of the covenant is put in terms of the institutional world being constructed through collective intentionality, which is performative, self-referential, and collective, and which serves as truth-maker. Hobbes is used here to make the point that it is a mistake to argue, as for example Tuomela has done, that the construction of institutions require a joint commitment: we-attitudes held in the we-mode. Instead, institutions on a `Hobbesian' model are constructed by we- attitudes held in the I-mode. This analysis is used in a discussion of law as an institution and law serving as a constraint on freedom. The constructive character of law means that the idea of law can serve as a constraint even in an area of life where in actual fact is unregulated. In order to assess whether liberty can be said to be infringed when that happens we need to go back to the notion of an external constraint, appreciating that what agents there are, what they can do and the powers they possess are functions of collective attitudes conveying meaning and status