Brooklyn Han, Patrick Leitloff, Sally Yang, Eddy Zou Is a UK Government commitment to the Sustainable Development Goals good for the economy and business in general? Brooklyn Han, Patrick Leitloff, Sally Yang, Eddy Zou One aspect of the United Nations Sustainable Development Goals (UN SDGs) is a sustainable use of natural resources and comprehensive environmental protection, mandating a significant change in economic and industrial practices (1). This discussion paper investigates the impact of a government commitment to the implementation of the UN SDGs relating to natural capital on the economy and business in the United Kingdom. We evaluate existing research and governmental policy declarations. The investigation finds that greater certainty around environmental regulations has a net benefit on business performance and that positive spillovers exist already. Policy gaps in waste and energy regulation exist. We also argue that a more accurate tracking of the progress in the SDGs leads to more commitment and better policymaking. This paper won the UK Office for National Statistics (ONS) Renaissance Prize in April 2020 (2). I. Introduction In recent years, rising concerns over the environmental sustainability of human-driven economic practices have called for significant action. Len- ton et al. argue that the world may have already crossed several “tipping points” beyond which environmental degradation becomes irreversible, mandating immediate political and economic response (3). We thus choose to focus on natural capital-based Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) in our discussion. Natural capital, defined as “stocks of the elements of nature that have value to society,” is used in combination with human, financial, and social capital to produce valuable goods and services (4). This differs from “natural resources” in the sense that natural capital is natural resources utilised to add value to society and the economy. It directly sustains human life, is not easily replenished, and is non-substitutable in certain cases, highlighting the need for sustainable use (5). We explore this with examples throughout our paper. Our SDGs of focus are: - Goal 12: Efficient use of natural resources and effective waste management - Goal 13: Climate change mitigation and adaptation - Goals 14 and 15: Preservation of water and land ecosystems Henceforth we refer to these goals as NC-SDGs. Figure 1. Natural capital-based Sustainable Development Goals (NC-SDGs) and auxiliary NC-SDGs We consider Goals 6, 7, and 9 as auxiliary NC-SDGs as they have targets relating to water ecosystems, fossil fuels as subsoil natural resources, and “environmentally sound technologies and industrial processes” respectively (6). Figure 1 provides a graphic summary. We refer to “commitment” as the integration of SDG targets and indicators in the design and evaluation of policies, as well as promoting awareness towards achieving SDGs in the indicated timeframe. In the following sections, we outline the UK-specific businesses and economy-wide benefits, then examine positive spillovers from current sustainable development policies. After identifying policy gaps, we reflect on the recent developments in measuring SDGs. II. Improved Business Performance There is strong evidence that environmentally sustainable practices improve business performance. Clark et al’s 2014 review of 200 studies on sustainability and corporate performance found that high environmental, social, and governance (ESG) standards lowered costs of sourcing capital and improved financial performance in 90 percent of cases (7). Similarly, Flammer identified a positive causal impact of adopting Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) proposals, such as incorporating SDGs in business operations, on accounting performance, labour productivity, and business sales in 2015 (8). Flammer did so by exploiting variation in corporate proposals that are mostly independent of confounding factors, such as the passage of shareholder proposals on CSR that pass or fail by a small margin of votes. Figure 2. The size of incremental SDG-related business opportunities in 2030. Notes : Only the largest opportunities are shown. Source: Business and Sustainable Development Commission, 2017. The implementation of SDGs also opens up new markets for UK businesses. A 2017 report by the Business and Sustainable Development Commission estimates that delivering SDGs in the four “economic systems’”—food and agriculture, energy and materials, cities, and health—can generate over £10 trillion (9) worth of business opportunities per year by 2030 (10). These closely relate to NC-SDGs (summarised in Figure 2) and are highly applicable in the UK. For instance, product-re- formulation strategies, which improve the nutritional content of processed food in the UK and enhance sustainable consumption (SDG 12), require total business investments of approximately £3.7 billion. This is significantly smaller than the estimated gains in Figure 2 (11). Further, this improvement to processed food is projected to improve the health of the population, saving a total of 1.7 million disability-adjusted life years. Healthy workers reduce the burden on the National Health Service by avoiding economic costs associated with falling ill or being hospitalised; they also work and consume more, which are major drivers of GDP. Figure 3. The size of incremental SDG-related business opportunities in 2030, with externalities added. Notes: Evidence at the global level suggests that pricing externalities adds market opportunities substantially. Source: Business and Sustainable Development Commission, 2017. In addition, as shown in Figure 3, adjusting prices to reflect the positive exter- nalities generated by a business focus on SDGs can add up to 40 percent of busi- ness opportunities in the four economic systems identified (12). Figure 4. Low-carbon innovation activity of EU ETS regulated companies compared with the counterfactual scenario. Source: Calel & Dechezleprêtre, 2014 Carbon pricing policies can have a significant effect on business incentives in creating sustainable innovations (13). Figure 4 shows that the introduction of the EU Emissions Trading System (ETS) has led to an increase in the number of low-car- bon patents from companies. There is potential for the UK government to further commit to SDGs through measures such as maintaining carbon pricing. Such a commitment would result in even greater benefits from encouraging businesses to invest in low-carbon innovations and creating new business areas. As Europe’s centre of sustainable funds management, the UK’s financial industry has long incorporated ESG standards into its investment criteria to support the growth of sustainable finance. One common method of sustainable finance is investment in an eco-friendly fund which applies ESG criteria and focuses its investment options in companies which are less carbon-intensive or earn green revenues. Eco-friendly funds generally design their own metrics of “climate aware- ness” and adjust portfolios towards companies and assets that perform better along those metrics. One example is the Future World Fund managed by Legal & General Investment Management, which only includes companies meeting minimum environmental standards and exposes itself more to companies which, in addition to meeting environmental standards, engage in environmentally friendly activities (14). In 2016, HSBC placed £1.85 billion of its UK employees’ pension savings into the Future World Fund (15). Reasons for HSBC’s decision are reportedly greater expected returns, improved company engagement, and a more widespread perception that addressing climate change should be the “new normal” (16). The notion that eco-friendly funds can generate returns is supported by empirical evidence: Morningstar, a global research agency, compared average return, success and survival rates of 745 sustainable funds with those of 4150 traditional funds. They found that irrespective of the type considered (bond or equities), and the country of origin (UK or abroad), rates of return on sustainable funds either matched or beat their traditional counterparts. Many businesses also publicly urge the government to further commit to strengthening private-public coordination in delivering SDGs (17). While SDGs are beneficial to businesses, without an active governmental commitment to NC-SDGs to address market failure, firms and the economy more broadly may not fully realise these benefits. Market failures, whereby markets fail to achieve socially efficient resource allocations, necessitate government intervention. Many green investments are currently uncompetitive as they involve early-stage innovations yet to be commercialised. Gillingham and Stock use 2018 data from the US Energy Information Administration to compute the costs of abating each ton of CO2 by replacing electricity generated by an existing coal-fired power plant with the cleaner alternative (18). As a comparison, the UK in 2019 proposed a £16 ($19.2) tax per tonne of CO2 emitted by installations. This effectively means abatement costs for switching to most feasible “cleaner alternatives” are much higher than social costs reflected by carbon tax schemes. Furthermore, solar and wind are among the cleanest forms of energy (Figure 5), yet Gillingham and Stock show that solar thermal and offshore wind are the most costly to implement (Table 1) (19). Table 1. New source generation costs when comparing to existing coal generation. Notes : The table shows engineering costs per ton of CO2 abated by replacing electricity gener- ated by a current coal-fired power plant with the new generation source. Source: Gillingham and Stock, 2018 The UK Energy Research Centre’s review of evidence on the timescale of technological innovations showed that across 14 innovations studies, it takes an average of 39 years for an innovation to be commercialised and deployed (22). Furthermore, Gillingham and Stock suggest that much of the “green investments” in renewable energy suffer from path dependence, whereby rates of return go up in the long run only with sufficiently high inputs (23). Furthermore, environmental externalities in current pollutive technologies are not internalised, leading to overproduction. Greener innovations thus tend to be under-funded by private markets, causing deadweight welfare loss for both consumers and producers (24). Consumers continue to suffer the consequences of pollution, while producers forego the opportunity to achieve better business performance in the long run as outlined above (25). Government finance such as the UK Energy Entrepreneurs Fund, which was launched in 2012 and invested £75 million of grant money by 2019, can support the incubation of businesses before they generate revenues. Figure 5. Solar and wind are among the cleanest forms of energy. Source: Ritchie & Roser, 2020. In addition, the government can provide a regulatory base to correct “imperfect information”. Standardisation prevents greenwashing, the act of labelling projects or bonds with detrimental or negligible impact on the environment as “green” to attract investors. Addressing the lack of clear common standards, cited as the largest source of investor uncertainty, can fuel demand for green bonds, which are bonds earmarked primarily for projects improving energy efficiency (SDG 7) (26). This is exemplified by the ASEAN’s adoption of comprehensive Green Bond Standards that categorise projects and specify the exclusion of fossil fuels (27). These actions reduce information asymmetries between firms and investors and may encourage the latter group to more confidently invest in green projects and bonds. The government can also help establish common reporting standards to lower the implementation costs of sustainability practices. HSBC found that 26 percent of the 1000 UK firms surveyed suggested that a confusion with ESG reporting undermined their sustainability practices (28). KPMG also found that one of the biggest barriers to sustainability for firms was the lack of common metrics to assess and compare performances (29). In 2020, the British Standards Institution (BSI) launched the first of its five-year initiative with the UK Government (BEIS) and the UK industry (City of London’s GFI) to develop consensus-based standards in sustainable finance (30). We argue that such country-wide standardisation is only achievable through regulatory changes directed by the government. While firms in the private sector can also attempt to establish uniform standards, their lack of enforcement power gives other businesses considerable discretion over which standards to adopt. This inconsistency not only raises search and adoption costs of standards, but also undermines uniform comparisons of companies’ performances along relevant dimensions. By contrast, government directives provide the incentive to report some common metrics, allowing investors and other stakeholders to better assess such information. Moreover, government-induced standards can go beyond helping companies assess their environmental impacts by tailoring case-specific solutions to incorporate environmental sustainability into existing business practices. This is illustrated by the BSI’s new ISO standards, which aim to allow businesses of all sizes to consider climate change adaptation while designing new policies, strategies, plans, and activities (31). The government can also exercise its authority to endorse consistent information and nudge consumer behaviour. For example, mandating businesses to disclose the environmental impact of their products through labelling highlights the impact of consumption choices and addresses consumers’ behavioural bias (32). Finally, government commitments to SDGs have the potential to improve coordination in the private sector. An example of such improved coordination is industrial symbiosis, where governments promote mutual synergies between firms from different industries. The UK’s National Industrial Symbiosis Programme (NISP), matches participating firms that can use each other’s byproducts with the view that “one company’s waste is another’s raw material.” For example, the waste filter cake produced by an air conditioner manufacturer is used by a fuel manufacturer as an oil absorption agent. In five years, NISP diverted over 47 million tonnes of industrial waste, contributing to improvements in SDG 12, production expansions and costs reductions (33). III. Current Policies and Positive Spillovers In the first year alone, 90 percent of the actions in the 25 Year Environment Plan have been delivered or are being progressed (34). Further, complex interactions and positive spillovers between goals occur. In the NC-SDGs framework, the key areas include air quality, water quality, urban planning, and waste management. Commitments to cleaner air have shown significant progress. The World Bank suggests that 100 percent of the UK population has access to clean fuels and technology for cooking in 2020 (SDG 7.1.2) (35). The ONS also finds that the share of renewable energy in total energy consumption rose exponentially from 0.7 per- cent in 1990 to 10.3 percent in 2017 (SDG 7.2.1) (36). This is expected to enhance climate resilience and encourage the transition to an economy with a lower reliance on high-emission technologies (SDG 13.2.1). Recent policies further support the attainment of NC-SDGs. The Clean Growth Strategy seeks to align economic growth with “clean” development by improving industry efficiency and encouraging the transition to low-carbon transport (37). Climate change policies may shape incentives in technological change, promoting innovation (SDG 9) and sustainable infrastructural development (SDG 11). Secondly, a commitment to cleaner water sources is “good business” because it raises productivity and cuts costs for firms, according to researchers at the Stock- holm International Water Institute (38). Current policies such as the Nitrates Directive and the Water Framework Directive reduce contamination risk to water bodies while enhancing their quality. Such policies ensured that 100 percent of UK households have access to safe drinking water and are connected to wastewater treatment (39). Access to sanitary drinking water is vital for personal health, and healthy workers make valuable contributions to business and the economy. Thirdly, urban planning policies encourage infrastructure innovation. Congestion is a huge cost for the economy in terms of lost time spent waiting in traffic and the continuous emission of pollutants from vehicles. TomTom’s London traffic reports in 2017 to 2019 show that just shy of 150 hours per year are spent by each driver waiting in rush hour traffic jams (40). Further, greenhouse gas emissions from road transport make up 21 percent of the UK’s total greenhouse gas emissions, which motivate the importance of making road planning easier for vehicle owners (41). To maximise the value of public investment, the UK government has established a Transforming Cities Fund worth £2.5 billion to tackle congestion and promote smart traffic management. The government is also considering new vehicle types and innovative ways to simplify journey planning and payments as a part of their Future of Mobility Urban Strategy. The aspects of this strategy are to be tested with a £90 million investment in four “future mobility zones.” These policies complement the goal of achieving cleaner air; as the transport sector is the largest single contributor to greenhouse gas emissions at 34 percent of total emissions, introducing smarter vehicles and tackling traffic congestion can significantly reduce air pollution (42). Furthermore, there is a strong link between the sustainability of cities and communities (SDG 11) and the sustainability of an environmental ecosystem with which the cities and communities interact (43). Finally, waste management policies have also shown promise in maintaining cleaner environmental standards. Since 2000, the UK’s material footprint has shown a downward trend (44). Plastic waste has been a major area of focus for the government, with an aim to reach zero plastic waste by 2042 (45). Better waste management will benefit ecosystems on land and in water and preserve the quality of the resources that are necessary to everyday production and consumption. Further, achieving the sustainable management of natural resources (SDG 12.2) and promoting policies that are in accordance with such management (SDG 12.7) are closely associated with the development of sustainable transport and infrastructure (SDG 9). IV. Shortcomings of Current Policies Despite considerable progress in some areas, there is strong evidence to suggest that gaps still exist, particularly in waste management and energy efficiency. Current trajectories pose a considerable threat to the future availability of natural capital. This necessitates immediate action to be taken against these issues. Hazardous waste generated, such as used oils and chemical waste, rose by over 10 percent between 2010 and 2016 (46). This waste pollutes water bodies and threat- ens aquatic biodiversity. It necessitates greater purification efforts, resulting in major costs of production (47). Energy efficiency is plagued by policy inconsistencies. Relaxations on fracking rules, freezes on fuel duty, uncertainty around the future of carbon pricing, and the end of hybrid vehicle subsidies damage expectations about the government’s commitment to a low-carbon economy (48). Low per capita spending on improving household energy efficiency and uncertainty in the government’s target to up-grade “fuel-poor” homes have caused the improvement in median energy efficiency ratings to level off (Figure 6). The proportion of households in fuel poverty has not changed significantly despite the fuel poverty gap decreasing since 2014 (49). Households are considered fuel poor if their fuel costs are above the national median level and their residual income after fuel costs would fall below the poverty line. A combination of slack minimum energy efficiency regulations, high fixed costs and the fact that returns are typically distributed over the long term means that private incentives, which are based on a series of myopic optimisation, do not bring enough investments to meet current targets (50). Given that energy efficiency is one of the most effective ways to tackle fuel poverty, stagnant improvements in this area stall progress in indicators such as 9.4.1 (CO2 emission per unit of value added) (51). Figure 6. The improvement in median energy efficiency ratings between 2010 and 2015 has lev- elled off in recent years for fuel-poor households and all households Source: Ministry of Housing, Communities & Local Government, 2018. V. Opportunities for Better Measurement Existing improvements in measurement enable policymakers to track progress on specific SDGs, analyse root causes of challenges in delivering SDGs and de- sign policies that address problems for specific stakeholders, to “Leave No One Behind” (52). The ability to establish quantitative targets for indicators that currently lack clarity will further enhance governmental commitment by reducing the propensity to take discretionary action and exploit the vagueness of said indicator(s). 70 percent of 180 SDG indicators reported using UK data are disaggregated (broken down into subcategories) by at least one variable, such as geographic region (53). This data can be used to compare the socio-economic impact of policies across regions, enabling policymakers to identify and target regional economic disparities. For example, researchers can use UK regional Google patent rank data to quantify regional distributions of economic spillovers from innovation in- vestments (Figure 7). Policymakers can then direct innovation spending to regions with stagnant productivity. Figure 7. A scatter plot of relative regional productivity and relative regional average spillovers for NUTS2 regions of the UK Notes : From this estimation, it is clear that targeting regions with below national average produc- tivity and high innovation spillovers can generate higher benefits. Source: Rydge, Martin & Valero, 2018. For NC-SDGs, we argue that the UK government can leverage the 100 percent coverage of climate action indicators and existing micro-level data to incorporate climate change-induced dynamics when investing in different parts of the UK. Existing literature suggests that foresighted infrastructure investments that con- sider dynamic effects of climate change, including inundation, sea-level rises, and floods, bring significant long-term economic welfare gains (54). An understanding of inter-linkages between SDGs allows policymakers to con- sider the distributional and long-term consequences of their decisions, thereby avoiding policy conflicts between different departments or omitting key areas of policy focus (55). For instance, the UN Statistical Division is collaborating with the ONS and other statistical agencies across developing countries to harmonise the use of indicators in understanding positive linkages between targets, to direct statistical reporting and policies to those with the greatest potential for positive externalities. Figure 8. Proportion of Global Indicators for each SDG that have data reported on the UK National Reporting Platform, as of June 2019. Source: UK Government, 2019b Greater governmental commitment to NC-SDGs is essential to accelerate im- provements in data measurement. As shown in Figure 7, among specific goals we focus on, there is substantial scope for improved data availability in Goals 12, 14, and 15. Many indicators require more details on how they can be met. For instance, none of the transboundary basin areas in the UK currently have an operational agreement on water cooperation (56). In addition to improving local and international water resource management, clarification will also help the UK maintain international ties, the importance of which has only increased since Brexit. VI. Conclusion Sustainable growth cannot be left to the private sector alone; a consistent, well-measured UK government commitment helps deepen the symbiotic relationship between stakeholders. This can help address market failures such as imperfect information and coordination problems in the private sector, where sustainable economic activity has the potential to take place on a large scale. Our assessment of current policies show that a stronger government commitment is consistent with current policy trajectories and that bridging existing policy gaps can deliver large gains. We have demonstrated the ways in which SDGs benefit the UK economy and businesses, such as reducing production costs through the maintenance of water sources, incentivising sustainable innovations through carbon pricing schemes, and strengthening the relationship between environmental ecosystems and the city. Environmental sustainability and economic growth are not always on a collision course. Rather, they should be viewed as complementary aims under the overarching goal of sustainable growth. With the advent of improved data collection methods and measurement of SDG indicators, we can better quantify progress towards a more sustainable future that benefits businesses and the economy. Endnotes 1 We thank Chiara Sotis and Judith Shapiro for their continued support and guidance. We are grateful to the ONS for initiating the prize and agreeing to the publication of the modified version of the paper. We would also like to thank the editors, Alice Jo and Jacob Zeldin, for their comments and suggestions which have significantly improved the paper. 2 www.ons.gov.uk/aboutus/whatwedo/programmesandprojects/economicstatisticstransformation/ theonsrenaissanceprize 3 Lenton, T. M., Rockström, J., Gaffney, O., Rahmstorf, S., Richardson, K., Steffen, W., & Schellnhuber, H. J. (2019). Climate tipping points—too risky to bet against. Nature, 575(7784), 592-595. doi: 10.1038/d41586-019- 03595-0. 4 HM Treasury (2020). The Green Book: Central Government Guidance On Appraisal and Evaluation. 5 Neumayer, E. (1998). Preserving natural capital in a world of uncertainty and scarce financial resources. International Journal Of Sustainable Development & World Ecology , 5(1), 27-42. doi: 10.1080/13504509809469967 6 United Nations General Assembly (2015). Transforming our world: the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable development , A/RES/70/1. 7 Clark, G. L., Feiner, A., & Viehs, M. (2015). From the stockholder to the stakeholder: How sustainability can drive financial outperformance. Available at SSRN 2508281 . 8 Flammer, C. (2015). Does corporate social responsibility lead to superior financial performance? A regression discontinuity approach. Management Science, 61 (11), 2549-2568. 9 The original data is in USD. We employ an exchange rate of $1=£1.2. 10 Business and Sustainable Development Commission. (2017). Better Business Better World: The report of the Business & Sustainable Development Commission. 11 Dobbs, R., Sawers, C., Thompson, F., Manyika, J., Woetzel, J., Child, P., ... & Spatharou, A. (2016). Overcoming obesity: An initial economic analysis. McKinsey Global Institute, 2014. 12 Business and Sustainable Development Commission. (2017). Better Business Better World: The report of the Business & Sustainable Development Commission. 13 Calel, R., & Dechezleprêtre, A. (2016). Environmental policy and directed technological change: evidence from the European carbon market. Review of economics and statistics , 98(1), 173-191. Around 300 companies regulated under the EU ETS are included in the sample. “Non EU ETS companies” are a group of 3000 European companies that are not regulated under the EU ETS but operated in the same country and the same economic sector and are comparable in size and innovation capacity to companies regulated under the EU ETS. 14 Legal & General Investment Management (2016). The Future World fund range . 15 Flood, C. (2016, November 8). HSBC’s UK pension scheme to invest £1.85bn in eco-friendly fund. The Financial Times . 16 Bioy, H. & Boyadzhiev, D. (2020). How does European sustainable funds’ performance measure up? Morningstar. 17 UKSSD Network (2018). Measuring up: How the UK is performing on the UN Sustainable Development Goals. 18 Gillingham, K., & Stock, J. H. (2018). The cost of reducing greenhouse gas emissions. Journal of Economic Perspectives , 32(4), 53-72. While they conclude that solar thermal and offshore wind technologies are the most costly to implement, we caution that these measures represent underestimates of true costs of abating CO2, given that they only consider mechanical switching and differ from costs of policy responses needed to encourage switching. 19 Ibid. 20 The original data is in USD. We employ an exchange rate of $1=£1.2. 21 While the technical note was later withdrawn due to further developments in Brexit negotiations, there have since been new calls and consultation processes for implementation of a Carbon Emissions Tax. 22 Hanna, R., Gross, R., Speirs, J., Heptonstall, P., & Gambhir, A. (2015). Innovation timelines from invention to maturity. UK Energy Research Centre . 23 Gillingham, K., & Stock, J. H. (2018). The cost of reducing greenhouse gas emissions. Journal of Economic Perspectives , 32(4), 53-72. 24 Owen, R., Lyon, F., & Brennan, G. (2018). 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Ria Modak Khadi Capitalism: Gandhian Neoliberalism and the Making of Modern India Ria Modak The postcolonial invocation of Mohandas Gandhi brings to mind a singular image: Gandhi dressed in a simple dhoti and shawl made from khadi, or home-spun and home woven cloth, sitting in front of his spinning wheel. This recollection of Gandhi positions him as both the embodiment of Indian national consciousness as well as a figure outside or above modernity, insulated from the hegemonic influence of Western reason and secularism. Modernity, encapsulated by the socio- political, economic, and cultural institutions and frameworks birthed by post-Enlightenment rationality, is seen as incompatible with the fundamental tenets of Gandhian political philosophy. Yet, in researching the massive corpus of Gandhi’s collected writings and speeches, I found that his entanglements of modernity, cap- italism, and nationalism were less straightforward than conventional Indian historiography might suggest. Gandhi’s political philosophy offers an entry point to address fundamental questions about nation thinking, modernity, and postcolonial futurity: can the postcolonial subject articulate political possibilities that move beyond the nation state without sacrificing the material considerations of global capitalism? Put differently, is it possible to imagine and enact a world order that transcends the hegemonic structuring forces of Western modernity? These questions are particularly resonant as we come to terms with the price of modern progress, which, in the stark words of Horkheimer and Adorno, has left us a world “radiant with triumphant calamity” (1). Critiques of modern living are boundless, ranging from Frankfurt school critiques of its reification of reason to Subaltern Studies’ lamentations of Western epistemological hegemony (2) to arguments from the Black radical tradition that colonialism and modernity are inextricably linked (3). However, as scholars look beyond the modern Western intellectual tradition and locate alternative ways of being to create more liberatory political realities, it is crucial that we think critically about how radical these alternatives truly are. Some alternatives, like those found in Gandhi’s political philosophy, cannot help but be, to invoke the work of David Scott, conscripts of modernity. While historians and political theorists of contemporary India alike argue that Gandhi summarily rejected modern frameworks of nationalism, industrialism, and rationality itself, I contend that Gandhian political philosophy, rather than existing above the conceits of Western modernity, is intimately tied to Western civil society and its social, political, and economic manifestations. More specifically, it closely resembles neoliberal forms of social relations and economy. The fundamental methodologies and frameworks undergirding Gandhian political philosophy ultimately reinscribe the hegemonic global capitalist order even while they seem, on inspection, to articulate a radically different futurity. This paper’s critical intervention, then, challenges the underlying assumptions of conventional Indian historiography by exposing its inability to reckon with Gandhi as a fundamentally modern political figure entrenched in the machinations of globalized neoliberalism. I suggest that a more critical reading of Gandhi-- one that accurately locates his political philosophy as a modern intellectual contribution-- is necessary in order to make sense of India’s postcolonial future. After an outline of conventional Indian historiography and its fixation with Gandhi within the nationalist paradigm, I turn to elements of Gandhi’s political philosophy and political economy to expose its similarities to modern neoliberal ideology and economics. Nationalist Historiography: A Dominant Discourse The conventional story of the Indian nationalist movement emphasizes the role of prolonged popular struggle; the diverse political and ideological visions of its leadership; and a uniquely revolutionary atmosphere of freedom and debate (4). The first stage of the independence movement was defined by the cultivation of an elite consciousness and the emergence of moderate nationalist activity; statesmen and politicians like Dadabhai Naoroji and Gopal Krishna Gokhale sought to achieve piecemeal reform through constitutional methods while keeping faith in the British justice system (5). As these gradual efforts failed to bring about substantive change, a more extremist brand of nationalism emerged. Through the swadeshi movement, militant nationalists like Lala Lajpat Rai and Bal Gangadhar Tilak fomented wide-spread political agitation by boycotting British institutions and goods (6). In this highly charged political context, Gandhi launched several satyagraha , or non-violent resistance, campaigns, including the non-cooperation movement and the Quit India movement, successfully mobilizing the masses (7). The culmination of this protracted struggle for freedom was, of course, Indian independence and the ensuing violence of Partition. This dominant narrative of the Indian freedom struggle foregrounds nationalism as a guiding principle, first to unify the social, economic, and political demands of a vastly heterogeneous population, and later to create a sovereign and secular nation state that embodies the will of the people. In depicting nationalism as the primary structuring force in the making of modern India, the mainstream approach to Indian history is representative of other, more extreme, approaches to historiography, including Hindu nationalist, Marxist, and even subaltern perspectives. All Indian history, in other words, is told as nationalist history. Hindu nationalist retellings of the independence movement represent Indian nationalism as a brand of ethnic nationalism in which nationality is an inherent genetic characteristic (8). By villainizing Muslim subjects, it replaces the secular liberal state of conventional historiography with a Hindu state: the Indian nation is the Hindu nation (9). Marxist historiography, in contrast, traces the rise and fall of India as a socialist state through retelling history from below, analyzing the role of peasant revolts and general strikes in inciting nationalist fervor. It conceptualizes the positive aspects of the nationalist movement (i.e. the bourgeois-democratic values of secularism, women’s rights, freedom of the press etc.) as the initial points for a people’s front (10). While subaltern historiographical approaches drew inspiration from Marxist methods, their characterization of the nationalist movement splits Indian politics into elite and subaltern spheres, each of which articulated a unique form of nationalism (11). Each of these historiographical approaches, in summary, insist on reifying the defining characteristic of national- ism according to the field’s preeminent scholars: congruence between the political and national unit (12). Within this discourse, the figure of Gandhi emerges as the very embodiment of nationalist consciousness. During the freedom struggle, he acquired the informal, but highly popularized, title of Father of the Nation, an appellation which continues to inform Gandhi’s central role in Indian postcolonial imagination. Countless films, television programs, plays, and documentaries continue to memorialize his life and work both within and outside of India. From Richard Attenborough’s 1982 film Gandhi to Doordarshan’s 52 episode-long teleserial Mahatma, the figure of Gandhi continues to pervade India’s nationalist project (13). Gandhi plays a crucial role in the symbolic consolidation of state power: his birthday and death day are both celebrated as national holidays; his image appears on paper currency of nearly all denominations issued by the Reserve Bank of India; and the International Gandhi Peace Prize is awarded annually by the Government of India as a tribute to Gandhian ideals. From the independence movement to our own political moment, Gandhi and the nationalist project have fused into an inseparable unit. Contemporary theorists of Indian nationalism argue that the conflation of Gandhi and the nation can be attributed to Gandhi’s refusal to adopt the values and assumptions of Western modernity. Partha Chatterjee suggests that by rejecting the modernizing ethos of Western rationality, Gandhi remained unencumbered by the Enlightenment thematic: “[n]ot only did Gandhi not share the historicism of the nationalist writers, he did not share their confidence in rationality and the scientific mode of knowledge” (14). Dipesh Chakrabarty and Rochona Majumdar argue that Gandhi’s reliance on the Bhagavad Gita, a Hindu scripture, allowed for the articulation of a novel religio-ethical orientation in the realm of politics, which he saw as intrinsically linked to Western modernity (15). This seemingly wholesale rejection of Western modernity, according to many historians of modern and postcolonial India, is clearly visible in Gandhi’s public image (16). As he embraced his role as a satyagrahi, he traded the Western robes of the barrister for a simple dhoti and shawl made from khadi. Gandhi’s khadi attire was transformed into a material artifact of the nation defined in terms of the contemporary politics and economics of self rule (17). Gandhi’s physical appearance, in other words, paralleled his ideological distance from Western modernity. Gandhi’s rejection of modern social, political, and economic frameworks is often contrasted to other leading statesmen and intellectuals of Indian freedom. He is most frequently counterposed with Jawaharlal Nehru, India’s first prime minister. Conventional Indian historiography narrates the differences between Gandhi and Nehru as such: where Nehru was a proponent of statist secular socialism driven by industrial growth, Gandhi was profoundly ambivalent about state intervention in agriculture and industry; where Nehru located India’s future in the creation of the modern city, Gandhi presented the self-sufficient and autonomous village as an alternative to modern civilization; where Nehru saw economic development as central to Indian independence, Gandhi sought self-purification and the cultivation of individual ethical consciousness (18). Scholars of modern India also juxtapose Gandhi’s religious orientation and appeals to Hinduism with the anti-caste, radical democratic humanism of B.R. Ambedkar, renowned Dalit leader and the architect of India’s constitution (19). Where Gandhi revered village life as a revival of the old social order, Ambedkar saw the village as a model of oppressive Hindu social organization which segregated upper caste communities from lower caste communities; where Gandhi turned to religion as a source of ethics, Ambedkar glorified the secular humanist ideals of the French Revolution; where Gandhi urged spiritual and religious education in Hindustani, Ambedkar demanded that English be used in schools to counter the Brahmin tradition of denying education and literacy to lower caste communities (20). In comparison to Nehru, Ambedkar, and others, Gandhian political philosophy is depicted in mainstream Indian historiography as irrefutably anti-modern. However, as I argue below, this characterization of Gandhi does not accurately reflect his political philosophy. Defining the Gandhian Problem Space Rather than articulating a radical alternative to Western modernity, Gandhian political philosophy was entrenched in the systems, structures, and frameworks of modernity, and more specifically, those of neoliberal capitalism. Before addressing the specifics of Gandhi’s political philosophy, it is first necessary to locate Gandhi more comprehensively within his problem space to better establish the stakes of my argument. In his work Conscripts of Modernity: The Tragedy of Colonial Enlightenment, David Scott introduces the idea of the problem space, which he defines as “an ensemble of questions and answers around which a horizon of identifiable stakes (conceptual as well as ideological-political stakes) hangs” (21). Theoretical work cannot be read, in other words, without identifying the questions to which that work responds. Even while actors within a particular problem space may disagree on the answers in a particular scenario, they are all responding to the same set of unspoken questions while maintaining a shared sense of the stakes. Intellectuals, statesmen and activists may disagree on how to decolonize, for example, while implicitly agreeing that something must be done to address the condition of colonized people. In the previous section, I gestured to one aspect of Gandhi’s problem space by outlining the background against which he formed his ideas in the space and time of the Indian freedom movement; in that spatio-temporal location, Gandhi’s problem space was constructed by Hindu scripture and the formation of religion as ethics. However, the Gandhian problem space was not circumscribed by the borders of the Indian nation; rather, it existed concomitantly with other approaches to decolonization during the mid-twentieth century. On the whole, these other projects struggled, mostly unsuccessfully, to articulate a postcolonial future out- side the terms of nationalism and modernity. In the Anglophone Black Atlantic, statesmen and intellectuals like Kwame Nkrumah and Eric Williams proposed federalism and non-domination on the global stage as solutions to the problem of empire (22). In the Francophone Black Atlantic, Aime Cesaire and Leopold Sedar Senghor sought to transform imperial France into a democratic federation with former colonies as autonomous members of a transcontinental polity (23). Within this internationalist problem space of decolonization characterized by “an attitude of anticolonial longing, a longing for anti-colonial revolution,” actors from all over the decolonizing world sought to engage in a radical project of worldmaking. However, many reinscribed colonial legacies by adopting the institutions, bureaucracies, and borders of colonial domination. Within the context of this problem space, then, Gandhi’s apparent rejection of modernity took on additional stakes as one of the few truly radical alternatives to nation thinking and capitalist state formation, not just in the Indian context but in the decolonizing world as a whole. However, this perception of Gandhi’s ideological distance from modernity is fundamentally misguided. In the three sections that follow, I analyze some of the fundamental tenets of Gandhi’s political philosophy and political economy to draw conceptual linkages to neoliberal capitalism. I first consider Gandhi’s attention to the individual as a unit of analysis in the struggle for independence, and argue that his conceptualization of swaraj as self-purification elided a structural understanding of colonialism as an oppressive force. Next, I critique Gandhi’s political ideal of Ramarajya and analyze his rejection of Western civilization. Finally, I turn to his visions of political economy, and in particular, his fixation with khadi to argue that Gandhi’s economic programme was, in fact, far closer to neoliberalism than most scholars would admit. Before addressing Gandhi’s political philosophy in full, it is helpful to first situate my argument within the field of Gandhi studies and critiques of Gandhi. Beginning in the early twentieth century, trade unionists like Shripad Amrit Dange took issue with the conservative strains within Gandhi’s economic thought, comparing it to the ideology of Soviet leaders like Vladimir Lenin (24). Contemporary scholars of India have taken up these critiques, pointing to his defense of the propertied classes, his ambivalence toward trade unions, and his philosophy of trusteeship as evidence of his imbrication in modern systems of capitalism and nationalism (25). However, few scholars have taken a theoretical approach to Gandhian political philosophy as a whole; those that do characterize his anticolonialism as fundamentally opposed to the modern state (26). My intervention complicates both of these approaches by engaging in a theoretical and deeply normative consideration of Gandhian thought. Swaraj as Self Purification and the Cultivation of Neoliberal Social Relations In his seminal treatise on political philosophy, Hind Swaraj, Gandhi puts forth a unique definition of swaraj , or self rule, that offers several dimensions through which to understand the stakes and motivations of the freedom struggle. First, Gandhian swaraj must be understood through the praxis of the individual, who is “the one supreme consideration” (27): it is “in the palm of our hands... Swaraj has to be experienced by each one for himself” (28). The practitioner of swaraj is the individual, not society or community (29). Gandhi’s focus on internal moral transformation leaves ambiguous the role of coalitional organizing and community building. In addition, Gandhi’s notion of swaraj is not generated in reaction to the brutality of colonial rule, but rather it emerges from an inner commitment to self improvement: “What we want to do should be done, not because we object to the English or because we want to retaliate, but because it is our duty to do so” (30). The political power derived from swaraj, in other words, must not be regarded as an end in itself. Indeed, a third characteristic of Gandhian swaraj is that it is not predicated on self determination or economic independence: “Now you will have seen that it is not necessary for us to have as our goal the expulsion of the English. If the English become Indianised, we can accommodate them” (31). Rather, swaraj depends on moral development and ethical formation. As such, it is intimately tied to the cultivation of spiritual and religious sensibilities (32) rather than the material considerations of development and industry: “Impoverished India can become free, but it will be hard for an India made rich through immorality to regain its freedom” (33). Gandhian swaraj is not constructed exclusively by material forces, nor does it demand exclusively material solutions. Gandhi’s focus on the individual obfuscates the role of colonialism as a structure of domination. He locates the origins of colonial exploitation in the moral failings of the Indian populace: “The English have not taken India; we have given it to them. They are not in India because of their strength, but because we keep them” (34). Gandhi’s discussion of the emergence of colonial rule is, unsurprisingly, limited in scope; the subject of his analysis is the upper class, upper caste colonized elite: “Who assisted the Company’s officers? Who was tempted at the sight of their silver? Who bought their goods? History testifies that we did all this. In order to become rich all at once, we welcomed the Company’s officers with open arms” (35). His myopic focus on the individual blinds him to the many revolutionary movements led by farmers, mill-workers, and tribal communities to overthrow British rule that were organized on the basis of economic exploitation (36). Gandhi also absolves colonial officers from their role in fomenting religious tensions between Hindus and Muslims through a divide-and-rule policy: “The Hindus and the Mahomedans were at daggers drawn. This, too, gave the Company its opportunity, and thus we created the circumstances that gave the Company its control over India” (37). This revisionist retelling of Hindu-Muslim relations ignores the crucial role of colonial policies in exacerbating religious tensions. The Census of British India of 1871-1872 constructed modern Hindu and Muslim identities as incompatible while the 1909 Morley-Minto reforms created separate electorates for Hindus and Muslims (38), thus fracturing political power (39). Gandhi’s conceptualization of swaraj does not adequately address the systems that continued to uphold the violence of colonial rule through law, bureaucracy, and state violence. By privileging the individual over the systemic, Gandhi’s formulation of swaraj closely resembles the cultivation of neoliberal social relations. While neoliberalism as an economic principle only gained traction in the 1970s after the dissolution of post-war Keynesianism, it also embodies ideological principles which marshal values of human dignity, individualism, and freedom to theorize the free market as a force of domination (40). Ethics and morality under the ideology of neoliberalism, in other words, become highly individualized, as in the case of Gandhian swaraj . This moral dimension has been central to neoliberalism since the beginning of the twentieth century (41), and became particularly salient in the aftermath of the Second World War, when human rights discourse began to interface with neoliberalism to produce a modern version of the colonial civilizing mission by facilitating the emergence of a globalized market civilization in which individual rights and competitive market relations would spread across and within national borders co-constitutively (42). Neoliberalism as a method of understanding and critiquing social relations offers a theoretical framework through which to analyze Gandhian swaraj. To be clear, I am not conflating all forms of religiously inflected self making with neoliberal social relations. I am arguing specifically that Gandhian swaraj, in failing to attend sufficiently to the structural forces of colonial domination, mirrors the highly destructive individualism that constitutes a central feature of neoliberalism. In fact, the very religio-ethical orientation that Gandhi gravitated toward was used as a tool for collective liberation in the context of the Indian freedom movement itself. For example, Muslim revolutionaries like Ashfaqullah Khan and Abul Kalam Azad invoked Islam and Islamic liberation theology to mobilize In- dian Muslim subjects in the independence struggle by centering the mosque as a site of resistance and reciting the Quran and fasting for Ramadan while jailed as political prisoners (43). In contrast to Gandhian swaraj, their religious sensibilities confronted the colonial state by producing solidarity among many diverse Muslim communities. A Critique of Ramarajya: Caste, Capitalism and Gandhi’s Ideal Civilization To reiterate, Gandhi is understood by most scholars as rejecting modernity because of his scathing critiques of modern civilization. Modern civilization, rather than the violent state sanctioned brutality of colonialism, was responsible for India’s downfall according to Gandhi: “It is not the British people who are ruling India, but it is modern civilization, through its railways, telegraphs, telepoles, and almost any invention which has been claimed to be a triumph of civilization” (44). The West fell prey to the forces of materialism, hyperrationality, and uncompromising secularism, which are all the inescapable after-effects of modernity. Gandhi expresses his disdain for this civilization in no uncertain terms: “This civilisation takes note of neither morality nor of religion: this civilization is irreligion” (45). Even more lamentably, the West mapped these values onto the East through the process of colonialism. As such, he writes, “India’s salvation consists in unlearning what she has learnt during the past fifty years. The railways, telegraphs, hospitals, law- yers, doctors, and such like have all to go, and the so-called upper classes have to learn to live conscientiously and religiously and deliberately the simple peasant life, knowing it to be a life giving true happiness” (46). These critiques of modern civilization are taken as evidence of Gandhi successfully rising above the conceits of modernity (47). However, it is not enough to consider Gandhi’s critique of modern civilization; rather, we must also analyze his alternative to modern civilization to assess whether or not it breaks free of the very systems Gandhi is opposed to. The fundamental values of Gandhi’s civilizational ideal are distinct from those of what he refers to as modern or material civilization, but their enactment reinforces neoliberal values. He defines true civilization as “that mode of conduct which points out to man the path of duty” (48). True civilization is morally inflected, and therefore spiritually inflected. According to Gandhi, India once adhered to the tenets of true civilization and must work to recover them: “The tendency of Indian civilisation is to elevate the moral being, that of the Western civilisation is to propagate immorality. The latter is godless, the former is based on a belief in God. So understanding and so believing, it behoves every lover of India to cling to the old Indian civilisation even as a child clings to its mother’s breast” (49). True civilization was achieved in the past and can be achieved again if, Gandhi argues, India returns to its original methods of governance, agriculture, industry, and labor while modifying some of its less progressive elements like untouchability: “In order to restore India to its pristine condition, we have to return to it. In our own civilisation, there will naturally be progress, retrogression, reforms and reactions, but one effort is required, and that is to drive out Western civilisation” (50). The fundamental values of Gandhi’s civilization ideal defined a type of morality that was dependent on acting according to one’s duty. The fixation on duty as a morally and religiously constituted ideal is, as I hope to prove, entirely compatible with capitalism and casteism in their modern formulations. Before considering the theoretical implications of Gandhi’s civilizational ethos, it is first necessary to understand how he envisioned their political manifestations through Ramarajya, “ the non-violent state of Gandhi’s vision” (51), his most concrete articulation of an alternative to nation thinking. Admittedly, Gandhi was less concerned with the details of postcolonial institutions, instead preferring a “one step enough” approach (52). However, he wrote extensively on his conceptualization of the ideal state, which he derived from the ancient ideal of Ramarajya, the divine kingdom of Lord Ram. Ramarajya in Gandhi’s formulation consisted of a federation of self governing and semi-autonomous panchayats , or village councils. The authority of the federation would be limited to the coordination, guidance, and supervision of matters of common interest (53). As in the case of swaraj, Ramarajya asserted the supremacy of individual freedom; this individual freedom was to be manifested in each panchayat and the state itself (54). Yet, these individual freedoms were tempered by Gandhi’s insistence on maintaining the caste system. In order to overcome the “life-corroding competition” of materialism and capitalism, each individual must follow “his own occupation or trade” (55). The law of varna “established certain spheres of action for certain people with certain tendencies,” thus at once naturalizing and institutionalizing caste (56). The shadow of caste, a concrete manifestation of Gandhi’s civilizational ethos of duty and morality, hung over his Ramarajya. Caste as a structuring force in Gandhi’s Ramarajya was not simply an unsavory vestige of pre-modern India; it was central to creating a reformed political and economic system in the postcolonial context. While Ramarajya was highly idealized, in the decades following Gandhi’s death, the Indian government has tried to implement many of its elements through campaigns, most notably the 2014 Clean India Mission ( Swachh Bharat Abhiyan ). The Clean India Mission is a country wide campaign aimed to “achieve universal sanitation coverage” by eradicating manual scavenging, improving the management of solid and liquid waste, and sustaining open-defecation free behavior (57). It is undoubtedly inspired by Ramarajya: it was initiated on the 150th anniversary of Gandhi’s birthday; volunteers are known as swachhagrahis, clearly in reference to satyagrahis ; and its messaging invokes Gandhian ideals of morality and duty (58). Prime Minister Narendra Modi himself proclaimed, “I must admit that if I had not understood Gandhi’s philosophy so deeply, the programme would not have been a part of my government’s priorities” (59). Yet, the Clean India Mission relied on coercive state action in its interactions with Dalit and Adivasi communities because prevailing ideas of purity and pollution drawn from the caste system perpetuate open defecation in rural India. To spread its message to lower caste and tribal communities, the Clean India Mission relied on the spirit of neoliberal capitalism, aggressive branding, and the monetary aid of multi-million dollar conglomerates like Hindustan Unilever (60). Neoliberal capitalism was the vessel through which casteism could inflict harm (61). The very ideals of morality and duty, when enshrined in the caste system, allowed Ramarajya to exist in accordance with the principles of neoliberal capitalism and state violence. When put into practice, Gandhi’s Ramarajya was not a rejection of modernity and materialism, but rather a manifestation of the most oppressive elements of Western modernity. His ideal form of political governance was invoked to complete a fundamentally modernist project. Khadi Capitalism: A Critique of Gandhi’s Political Economy Just as Gandhi’s political philosophy was highly compatible with neoliberal capitalism, so was his political economy. Like his conceptualization of Ramarajya and political philosophy, Gandhi understood political economy as inseparable from ethical and religious pursuits. Through this religio-ethical lens , individual and societal economic interests were to be collapsed to avoid conflict between the two. Economic progress in the material sense was antagonistic to “real progress” in the ethical sense (62). As part of his political economy, Gandhi urged plain living, which entailed the curtailing of material desires to lead a more sustainable lifestyle: “More and more things are produced to supply our primary needs, less and less will be the violence” (63). He urged small-scale and locally-oriented production that would not require large-scale industrialization or the use of machinery. Gandhi also emphasized the dignity of all forms of labor and suggested that every person, no matter their class status, should engage in manual labor, which he called, after Leo Tolstoy, “bread labor,” to understand the plight of agricultural laborers (64). Plain living, small-scale production, and bread labor, in summation, formed the basis of Gandhi’s political economy. The khadi programme was essential in enacting Gandhi’s political economy. Khadi was meant to be the national industry to benefit the masses by providing supplementary work to unemployed rural hands. The economics of khadi included a plan to produce, distribute, exchange, and consume hand-spun yarn and cloth. Its effects were meant to diminish unemployment, augment economic productivity, and increase the purchasing power and of the poor. As it was geared towards India’s rural population, khadi could rely on only the most simple and accessible technologies: the loom and the spinning wheel. It also had to rely on a local re- source base for production and consumption (65). As such, khadi played a crucial role in defining the structures of exchange in Gandhi’s political economy: each village had to be self supporting and self contained to adhere to the khadi programme. According to this highly fragmented doctrine, villages should only exchange necessary commodities with other villages where they are not locally producible (66). Although khadi was meant to deliver material economic benefits to India’s rural population, as with other elements of Gandhi’s political economy, it also took on a profoundly moral dimension. It was integral to establishing what Gandhi referred to as a “non-violent economic order” (67). While mill-made cloth was cheaper than khadi, it relied on “dishonesty,” “violence and untruth,” which is why it had to be opposed (68). In the scope of Gandhi’s political economy, khadi was necessary to address the economic and moral needs of the Indian masses. In promoting the khadi programme, Gandhi articulated an unequivocal opposition to industrialism and, by extension, state socialism. Labor-saving machinery, according to Gandhi, was highly detrimental to the lives of rural Indians; it was antagonistic to both man’s labor and true civilization: “Machinery has begun to desolate Europe. Ruination is now knocking at the English gates. Machinery is the chief symbol of modern civilisation; it represents a great sin” (69). While states- men like Nehru urged state-sponsored large-scale industrialization to bring India’s economy onto the globalized stage (70), Gandhi insisted that “India does not need to be industrialised in the modern sense of the term” (71). His apathy towards state socialism was grounded in this uncompromising opposition to industrialism: if industrialism was a necessary step in implementing socialist policies, he would reject those policies. However, while khadi was avowedly anti-industrialist, it was not unambiguously anti-modern. Just as Gandhi’s political philosophy resembles neoliberal ethical formation by erasing the structural role of colonialism, khadi does the same by erasing the structural role of capitalism. Gandhi’s political economy addressed the problem of inequality primarily on the individual level by pleading for necessary changes in lifestyle to limit one’s needs and conceptualizing the economy in moral terms. The cultivation of individual economic health apart from the travails of industrialism and heavy machinery was the guiding principle in Gandhi’s political economy: ethics and morality became co-opted by the logic of neoliberal individualism. The more structural features of khadi -- its production, distribution, exchange and consumption schemes-- also reinforce aspects of neoliberal economy and ideology. The confluence of a lack of state regulation and the supremacy of individual will in the context of atomized, self-sufficient villages is not far from the neoliberal ideal that reifies individual rights and competitive market relations (72). Just as neoliberal ideology obscures class conflict by dissuading class consciousness through the vocabulary of individualism, the moral and ideological ramifications of khadi portray class warfare as an instrument of social violence and disharmony (73). Gandhian political economy sought to resolve economic inequality by pre- serving human dignity rather than ensuring material gains (74). Gandhi’s political economy, in sum, was not so distant from modern neoliberalism. Conclusion: Confronting the Postmodern Turn in Postcolonial Studies Thus, Gandhi’s political philosophy and political economy were not divorced from Western modernity. Contrary to the writings of most historians and political theorists of contemporary India, I suggest that Gandhi’s political thought closely resembles neoliberal ideology, social relations, and economy even while it may seem, on inspection, unequivocally anti-modern. The methodological individual- ism that undergirds his conceptualization of swaraj, the centrality of caste and labor division in his political ideal of Ramarajya and his khadi programme all point to significant conceptual linkages to neoliberal capitalism. Through a critical reading of his work, I contend that Gandhi was not above modernity: he was entrenched in the systems, structures, and ideologies of modernity. Understanding Gandhi’s political philosophy as a modern intellectual contribution is crucial in confronting the recent postmodernist and poststructuralist turn in postcolonial studies, which seeks to replace class analysis or history from below with textual analysis and cultural theory (75). This new orientation, through its methodological individualism, depoliticization of the social from the material realm, and wholesale refusal of programmatic politics, is both conservative and authoritarian (76). By prioritizing ideology over existing structures of domination, in other words, it fails to engage with the material realities of colonialism and capitalism. This brand of scholarship, as I prove, uses Gandhi as its shining example. In my paper, I have attempted to dislodge this conventional perception of Gandhi as the embodiment of pure Indian nationalism untouched by Western modernity by pointing to the material implications of his political thought. In doing so, I hope to challenge the postmodern impulse within postcolonial studies. More importantly, I strongly believe that a critical reading of Gandhi is necessary in our contemporary political moment. More than 250 million farm workers in India went on strike in November 2020 to demand better working conditions, including the withdrawal of new anti-farm bills that would deregulate agricultural markets by giving corporations the staggering power to set crop prices far below current minimum rates. Farmers are confronting neoliberal excess in its most globalized form, facing off against Prime Minister Modi as well as dozens of multinational corporations. While invocations of Gandhian political philosophy by far-right figures like Modi are often characterized as erroneous distortions of his thought within liberal nationalist scholarship, in reality they are the logical conclusions of his arguments (77). Within the corpus of Gandhi’s work lie the seeds of neoliberal exploitation. As farmers come to terms with an ever-growing and exploitative globalized economy, a careful examination of Gandhi’s political thought may inform what a just postcolonial future should, and shouldn’t, embody. Endnotes 1 Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments, ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr, trans. Edmund Jephcott (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002), 1. 2 Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 4. 3 Aime Cesaire, Discourse on Colonialism, trans. Joan Pinkham (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2000), 9. 4 Bipin Chandra, India’s Struggle for Independence, 1857-1947, (New Delhi, India; Viking, 1998), 14. 5 Sumit Sarkar, Modern India: 1885-1947, (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989), 92. 6 Sugata Bose and Ayesha Jalal, Modern South Asia: History, Culture, Political Economy, (Routledge, 2017), 92. 7 Bose and Jalal, Modern South Asia, 110. 8 Liah Greenfeld, Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992), 11. 9 Vinayak Damodar Savarkar, Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? (Bombay, India: Veer Savarkar Prakashan, 1969), 2. 10 Irfan Habib, Essays in Indian History: Towards a Marxist Perception, (New Delhi, India: Tulika, 1995), 10. 11 Gyan Prakash, “Subaltern Studies as Postcolonial Criticism,” The American Historical Review 99, no. 5 (1994): 1478. 12 Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983), 1. 13 Shanti Kumar, Gandhi Meets Primetime: Globalization and Nationalism in Indian Television, (Baltimore: University of Illinois Press, 2005), 17. 14 Partha Chatterjee, Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse, (Minneapolis : University of Minnesota Press, 1993), 96. 15 Dipesh Chakrabarty and Rochona Majumdar, “Gandhi’s Gita and Politics As Such,” Modern Intellectual History 7, no. 2 (2010): 338. 16 For a good scholarly overview, see Sanjeev Kumar, Gandhi and the Contemporary World, (Taylor and Francis, 2019). 17 Lisa Trivedi, Clothing Gandhi’s Nation: Homespun and Modern India, (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007), xx. 18 Surinder S. Jodhka, “Nation and Village: Images of Rural India in Gandhi, Nehru and Ambedkar,” Economic and Political Weekly 37, no. 32 (2002): 3347. 19 Arundhati Roy, The Doctor and The Saint: Caste, Race, and the Annihilation of Caste: The Debate Between B.R. Ambedkar and M.K. Gandhi (Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2017), 2. 20 Aishwary Kumar, Radical Equality: Ambedkar, Gandhi, and the Risk of Democracy, (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2017), 338. 21 David Scott, Conscripts of Modernity: The Tragedy of Colonial Enlightenment, (Durham: Duke University Press, 2004), 4. 22 Adom Getachew, Worldmaking After Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination, (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019), 107. 23 Gary Wilder, Freedom Time: Negritude, Decolonization, and the Future of the World (Durham: Duke University Press, 2015), 10. 24 Shripad Amrit Dange, Gandhi vs Lenin (Bombay, India: Liberty Literature Company, 1921), 15. 25 Vivek Chibber, Postcolonial Theory and the Specter of Capital (London: Verso, 2013), 282. 26 Karuna Mantena, “On Gandhi’s Critique of the State: Sources, Contexts, Conjunctures,” Modern Intellectual History 9, no. 3 (2012): 535. 27 Mohandas Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 25 (New Delhi: Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1989), 252. 28 Mohandas Gandhi, Hind Swaraj and Other Writings, ed. Anthony J. Parel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 71. 29 Koneru Ramakrishan Rao, Gandhi’s Dharma, (New Delhi, India: Oxford University Press, 2017), 105. 30 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 116. 31 Ibid, 71. 32 I conflate these terms carefully: according to Gandhi, religion and morality could not be disentangled. Throughout Hind Swaraj, he emphasizes that they are entirely co-constitutive. 33 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 106. 34 Ibid, 38-39. 35 Ibid. 36 Subho Basu, Does Class Matter? Colonial Capital and Workers Resistance in Bengal, 1890-1937, (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004), 238-62. 37 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 40. 38 Rajmohan Gandhi, Eight Lives: A Study of the Hindu-Muslim Encounter, (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1986), 6. 39 Of course, in reality this narrative is not so simple.There was a clear sense of difference and tension between Hindu and Muslim communities long before British rule. However, I argue that Gandhi’s telling of this history erases the role that British colonialism played in intensifying these tensions for political gain. 40 David Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism (New York: Oxford University Press, 2005), 12. 41 Jessica Whyte, The Morals of the Market: Human Rights and the Rise of Neoliberalism, (La Vergne: Verso, 2019), 4. 42 Whyte, The Morals of the Market, 8. 43 Pran Nath Chopra, Role of Indian Muslims in the Struggle for Freedom, (New Delhi, India: Light & Life Publishers, 1979), 6. 44 Gandhi, “Letter to H.S.L. Pollack” in Hind Swaraj, 128. 45 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 36. 46 Gandhi, “Letter to H.S.L. Pollack” in Hind Swaraj, 129. 47 Chatterjee, Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World, 98. 48 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 65. 49 Ibid. 50 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 104. 51 Rao, Gandhi’s Dharma, 210. 52 G.N. Dhawan, The Political Philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi, (Bombay, India: Popular Book Depot, 1946), 126. 53 Ibid, 282. 54 Raghavan Iyer, The Moral and Political Thought of Mahatma Gandhi, (New York: Oxford University Press), 86. 55 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 66. 56 Ramarajya also poses interesting and important questions about gender and patriarchy in village life, but unfortunately this line of inquiry is outside the scope of this paper. 57 “Swachh Bharat Mission,” Government of India, https://swachhbharatmission.gov.in/sbmcms/index.htm. 58 Swachh Bharat Mission,” Government of India, https://swachhbharatmission.gov.in/sbmcms/index.htm. 59 “PM Modi: Gandhi inspired me to launch Swachh Bharat,” Economic Times, Published October 2, 2018, https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/politics-and-nation/pm-modi-gandhi-inspired-me-to-launch-s wachh-bharat/articleshow/66045561.cms?from=mdr. 60 “Hindustan Unilever Limited: Spreading the message of Swachh Aadat across India,” The Hindu, Published April 30, 2018, https://www.thehindu.com/brandhub/hindustan-unilever-limited-spreading-the-message-of-swachh-aadat- across-india/article23729983.ece. 61 Anand Teltumbde, Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva, (New Delhi, India: Navayana, 2018), 24. 62 Gandhi, “Economic and Moral Development” in Hind Swaraj, 154. 63 Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 22, 143. 64 Ibid, vol. 12, 51. 65 Trivedi, Clothing Gandhi’s Nation, 81. 66 Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 51, 92. 67 Ibid. 68 Ibid. 69 Gandhi, Hind Swaraj, 106. 70 Chibber, Postcolonial Theory and the Specter of Capital, 249. 71 Gandhi, The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 51, 93. 72 Whyte, The Morals of the Market, 12. 73 Harvey, A Brief History of Neoliberalism, 16. 74 Madan Gandhi, Marx and Gandhi: Study in Ideological Polarities, (Chandigarh, India: Vikas Bharti, 1969), 32. 75 Sumit Sarkar, “The Decline of the Subaltern in Subaltern Studies,” in Sarkar, Writing Social History (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1997), 83. 76 Arif Dirlik, “The Postcolonial Aura: Third World Criticism in the Age of Global Capitalism,” Critical Inquiry 20:2 (1994): 334. 328-56. 77 Mihir Bose, From Midnight to Glorious Morning? India Since Independence, (London: Haus Publishing, 2017), 122. Works Cited Basu, Subo. Does Class Matter? Colonial Capital and Workers Resistance in Bengal, 1890-1937. Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2004. Bose, Mihir. From Midnight to Glorious Morning? India Since Independence. London: Haus Publishing. 2017. Bose, Sugata and Ayesha Jalal. Modern South Asia: History, Culture, Political Economy. Routledge, 2017. Cesaire, Aime. Discourse on Colonialism. Translated by Joan Pinkham. New York: Monthly Review Press, 2000. Chakrabarty, Dipesh. Provincializing Europe: Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000). Chakrabarty, Dipesh and Rochona Majumdar, “Gandhi’s Gita and Politics As Such,” Modern Intellectual History, 7, no. 2 (2010): 335-353 Chandra, Bipin. India’s Struggle for Independence , 1857-1947. New Delhi, India; Viking, 1998. Chatterjee, Partha. Nationalist Thought and the Colonial World: A Derivative Discourse. Minneapolis : University of Minnesota Press, 1993). Chibber, Vivek. Postcolonial Theory and the Specter of Capital. London: Verso, 2013. Chopra, Pran Nath. Role of Indian Muslims in the Struggle for Freedom . New Delhi, India: Light & Life Publishers, 1979. Dange, Shripad Amrit. Gandhi vs Lenin. Bombay, India: Liberty Literature Company, 1921. Dhawan, G.N. The Political Philosophy of Mahatma Gandhi. Bombay, India: Popular Book Depot, 1946. Dirlik, Arif. “The Postcolonial Aura: Third World Criticism in the Age of Global Capitalism,” Critical Inquiry 20:2 (1994): 328-56. Gandhi, Madhan. Marx and Gandhi: Study in Ideological Polarities. Chandigarh, India: Vikas Bharti, 1969. Gandhi, Mohandas. Hind Swaraj and Other Writings. Edited by Anthony J. Parel. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). ———. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 12. New Delhi: Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1989. ———. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 22. New Delhi: Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1989. ———. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 25. New Delhi: Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1989. ———. The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi, vol. 51. New Delhi: Publications Division, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Government of India, 1989. Gandhi, Rajmohan. Eight Lives: A Study of the Hindu-Muslim Encounter. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1986). Gellner, Ernst. Nations and Nationalism. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983. Getachew, Adom. Worldmaking After Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2019. Greenfeld, Liah. Nationalism: Five Roads to Modernity. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. Habib, Irfan. Essays in Indian History: Towards a Marxist Perception. New Delhi, India: Tulika, 1995. Harvey, David. A Brief History of Neoliberalism. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. “Hindustan Unilever Limited: Spreading the message of Swachh Aadat across India.” The Hindu. Published April 30, 2018, https://www.thehindu.com/brandhub/hindustan-unilever-limited-spreading-the- message-o f-swa- chh-aadat-across-india/article23729983.ece Horkheimer, Max and Theodor W. Adorno. Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments. Edited by Gunzelin Schmid Noerr. Translated by Edmund Jephcott. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2002. Iyer, Raghavan. The Moral and Political Thought of Mahatma Gandhi. New York: Oxford University Press. Jodhka, Surinder S. “Nation and Village: Images of Rural India in Gandhi, Nehru and Ambedkar.” Economic and Political Weekly 37, no. 32 (2002): 3343- 3353. Kumar, Aishwary. Radical Equality: Ambedkar, Gandhi, and the Risk of Democracy. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2017. Kumar, Shanti. Gandhi Meets Primetime: Globalization and Nationalism in Indian Television. Baltimore: University of Illinois Press, 2005. Mantena, Karuna. “On Gandhi’s Critique of the State: Sources, Contexts, Conjunctures.” Modern Intellectual History 9, no. 3 (2012): 535-563. “PM Modi: Gandhi inspired me to launch Swachh Bharat.” Economic Times. Published October 2, 2018, https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/politics-and- nation/pm-modi-gandhi-inspired-me-to-launch-swachh-bharat/ articleshow/66045561.cms?from=mdr. Rao, Koneru Ramakrishan. Gandhi’s Dharma. New Delhi, India: Oxford University Press, 2017. Roy, Arundhati. The Doctor and The Saint: Caste, Race, and the Annihilation of Caste: The Debate Between B.R. Ambedkar and M.K. Gandhi. Chicago: Haymarket Books, 2017. Sarkar, Sumit. Modern India: 1885-1947. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1989. Savarkar, Vinayak Damodar. Hindutva: Who is a Hindu? Bombay, India: Veer Savarkar Prakashan, 1969. Scott, David. Conscripts of Modernity: The Tragedy of Colonial Enlightenment. Durham: Duke University Press, 2004. “Swachh Bharat Mission.” Government of India. https://swachhbharatmission.gov.in/sbmcms/index.htm. Teltumbde, Anand. Republic of Caste: Thinking Equality in the Time of Neoliberal Hindutva. New Delhi, India: Navayana, 2018. Trivedi, Lisa. Clothing Gandhi’s Nation: Homespun and Modern India. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2007. Whyte, Jessica. The Morals of the Market: Human Rights and the Rise of Neoliberalism. La Vergne: Verso, 2019). Wilder, Gary. Freedom Time: Negritude, Decolonization, and the Future of the World (Durham: Duke University Press, 2015. Previous Next

Sydney White From Bowers to Obergefell: The US Supreme Court's Erratic, Yet Correct, Jurisprudence on Gay Rights Sydney White Abstract: The gay rights movement has seen consistent support from the US Supreme Court over the last 25 years since the ruling in Romer v. Evans (1996). Culminating in recent years with the Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) ruling, which legalized same-sex marriage nation- wide, the Court’s jurisprudence has been an odd combination of internally consistent and erratic. How have the justices reasoned through this shift in their court opinions? How has the Court’s level of scrutiny for discrimination on the basis of sexuality heightened while the level of scrutiny for discrimination on the basis of gender or race has simultaneously lowered? Furthermore, what might this mean for future court battles related to civil rights? In the last 35 years, there has been a rapid shift in laws concerning same-sex conduct and same-sex marriage in the United States. At the time of the 1986 Bowers v. Hardwick decision, 24 states and the District of Columbia outlawed sodomy (1). Although these laws purported to ban sodomy for all couples regardless of their sexual orientation, anti-sodomy statutes were primarily a means of curtailing the sexual activity of gay men (2). Today, by contrast, gay and lesbian couples are allowed to marry throughout the US. This paper explicates this major shift in the Supreme Court’s jurisprudence, particularly through an examination of the interplay between the due process and equal protection claims made by plaintiffs, as well as through an analysis of American federalism and the conflict between state and federal laws. I argue that such a shift is a normative good, as the right to marry guaranteed in Obergefell v. Hodges (2015) grants gay couples greater hospital visitation privileges, marital status for tax purposes (such as inheritances), and ac- cess to numerous other privileges originally only allowed to heterosexual couples (3). Nonetheless, the Court’s jurisprudence over this time raises numerous questions. To what extent did the Court shift its level of scrutiny over the course of 35 years— from Bowers to Obergefell —without explicitly saying so? Is the Court’s use of the Equal Protection Clause and the Due Process Clause in Obergefell contrived? In my view, the Court’s decision in Obergefell should not have been seen as a surprise; indeed, it was a natural extension of the Court’s jurisprudence on gay rights since Romer v. Evans (1996). Nonetheless, the Court’s equal protection and due process jurisprudence is riddled with inconsistencies on these issues, and Justices Scalia, Thomas, and Roberts were right to point out the Court’s erratic invocation of different levels of scrutiny. Background and History: From Bowers to Lawrence Although overruled by Lawrence v. Texas (2003), Justice White’s and Justice Pow- ell’s reasoning in Bowers v. Hardwick (1986) relies heavily on historical and precedential claims regarding the Due Process Clause. In 1982, a police officer entered the home of Michael Hardwick and found him having sex with another man. Hardwick’s conduct was illegal under a Georgia law prohibiting sodomy, which was defined as “any sexual act involving the sex organs of one person and the mouth or anus of another” (4). Although the district attorney decided not to prosecute, Hardwick filed a suit against Georgia’s attorney general, Michael Bowers, arguing that the anti-sodomy law was unconstitutional under the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. In a 5–4 decision, the Supreme Court rejected Hardwick’s claim. In the majority opinion, Justice White argued that no precedent had announced a right resembling that of the “claimed constitutional right of homosexuals to engage in acts of sodomy.” He, along with Justice Burger in a concurring opinion, indicated that proscriptions against sodomy have ancient roots in Judeo-Christian moral and ethical standards. In a more explicitly legal argument, they also suggested that anti-sodomy statutes were inherited from English common law and were thus enacted in colonial America. Their conception of fundamental rights is oddly similar to that discussed in later case Washington v. Glucksberg (1997), as it sought to consider any substantive due process claims by utilizing the framework of tradition and history as the precedent (5). In his dissent, Justice Stevens put forth a principle that would render itself crucial to future gay rights cases, arguing that “a policy of selective application must be supported by a neutral and legitimate interest—something more substantial than a habitual dislike for, or ignorance about, the disfavored group” (6). In the case of Bowers , for example, Justice Sandra Day O’Connor inquired whether there was a legitimate state interest in curtailing homosexual conduct as a means to reduce the spread of HIV/AIDS among gay men. In response, Harvard University Law Professor Laurence Tribe, on behalf of Hardwick, indicated that this was not Georgia’s stated interest. Furthermore, various amici curiae briefs submitted in the case argued instead that anti-sodomy statutes would be counterproductive in mitigating the spread of HIV/AIDS (7). With this in mind, it is clear that Justices Powell and Burger were correct: Georgia’s actual interest was seemingly the prevention of immoral conduct, and nothing more. As such, the Court has had to grapple with the question of whether a morality-based interest is sufficient to justify discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Although the Georgia sodomy statute was upheld in Bowers , the later Romer v. Evans (1996) case proved to be more of a success for gay rights advocates, as Justice Kennedy did not consider the morality interest to be sufficient to justify a statute against sodomy. This case arose as the state of Colorado passed a series of local ordinances that sought to ban discrimination in many sectors, including housing, employment, education, public accommodations, and health and welfare services.8 Notably, it contained a ban on discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. This ban prompted Colorado voters to pass “Amendment 2,” which precluded future action designed to protect persons from discrimination based on their sexual orientation. In this case, the Court considered whether the state of Colorado provided a sufficient rational basis for singling out gays, lesbians, and bisexuals, which the state justified on the basis of respecting citizens’ freedom of association and, in particular, the liberty of landlords or employers who had personal or religious objections to homosexuality (9). Nonetheless, in his majority opinion, Justice Anthony Kennedy argued that such a rationale was too broad to allow for deference to the state, as it had no legitimate purpose or discrete objective (10). In contrast to Justice Kennedy, Justice Antonin Scalia argued that the morality rationale was sufficient and that the Court was undermining the majority will of Americans (11). Scalia contended that Kennedy’s notion of animus—or decision-making motivated solely by dislike for a particular group—is allowed in various arenas of life. He noted: “But I had thought that one could consider certain conduct reprehensible—murder, for example, or polygamy, or cruelty to animals—and could exhibit even ‘animus’ toward such conduct” (12). Scalia’s equivalation of murder and cruelty to animals to homosexuality was likely reprehensible then, as is it now. However, it also points to a crucial misconception in this case: that landlords or other groups of people may be discriminating against queer people on the basis of their conduct . In the Court’s hearing of Romer , Scalia argued that if one criminalizes homosexual conduct [ Bowers ], then it follows that one can discriminate against homosexuals as well (13). What Scalia failed to understand, however, and what lead counsel and future Colorado Supreme Court Justice Jean Dubofsky pointed out on behalf of respondents, is that Romer was about both conduct and sexual orientation. A person may be perceived as gay (when they are not) by a landlord, for example, and then discriminated against. In this regard, Scalia’s analogy does not hold, as murder, polygamy, and cruelty to animals are all forms of conduct, while homophobia can be directed at people regardless of whether or not they actually engage in homosexual conduct. In this regard, Scalia’s conflation of conduct and sexual orientation renders his analogy regarding the possibility for morality-based animus less persuasive. Scalia’s second argument was that the Court is an insulated institution of justices that have graduated from elite law schools, and so it had no business pushing its morality onto the good people of Colorado in Romer (14). While Scalia’s notion may have been theoretically viable, he failed to consider how his conception operates in a greater historical context. For example, as Laurence Tribe, counsel to Michael Hardwick, argued in the Bowers hearing, the majority of people in Virginia did not think that interracial liaisons were moral at the time of Loving v. Virginia (1967) (15). If the Court had relied on Scalia’s majoritarian claim regarding gay rights, volmany generally agreed upon cases, such as Loving , would have been decided differently. Following Romer , the Court made several decisions in favor of the gay community, such as in Lawrence v. Texas (2003). Lawrence mirrored the Bowers case in many regards, as it involved a police intrusion into the home of two men, John Lawrence Jr. and Tyron Garner, who were purportedly having sex (16). It differed in two crucial dimensions. For one, the Texas statute in question was specifically directed at prohibiting homosexual sodomy, while the Georgia law in Bowers targeted sodomy in general. The second difference was that Lawrence’s counsel, Paul Smith, argued that the Texas statute violated both the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses of the Constitution, not just the Due Process Clause (17). Justice Kennedy argued in the majority opinion of the Court that the Texas statute was a violation of substantive due process, and Justice Sandra Day O’Connor claimed that it also violated the Equal Protection Clause so its potential violation of the Due Process Clause need not be decided (18). Kennedy relied on two precedents in his jurisprudence in Lawrence : Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey (1992) for substantive due process and Romer v. Evans (1996) for equal protection (19). In Casey , the Court introduced a new substantive due process claim: dignity and respect for autonomy (20). As mentioned in regard to Romer , the Court started to level up its scrutiny for discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation; Colorado gave a rationale regarding freedom of association, but the majority found that this was not a sufficient basis for Amendment 2. In Lawrence , Kennedy quotes Justice Stevens’s dissent in Bowers, in which he claimed that “individual decisions by married persons, concerning the intimacies of their physical relationship, even when not intended to produce offspring, are a form of ‘liberty’ protected by the Due Process Clause of the Fourteenth Amendment. Moreover, this protection extends to intimate choices by unmarried as well as married persons” (21). Following this logic, Kennedy disagreed with the Bowers decision, and it was overruled by Lawrence . Analysis of Justice O’Connor’s concurrence in Lawrence indicates the potential legal consequences that could have arisen if Justice Kennedy had not drawn on precedents from both Casey and Romer . O’Connor argued that the fact that the Texas statute was only aimed at same-sex sodomy resulted in a violation of the Equal Protection Clause. Unlike Kennedy, O’Connor did not rely on Casey but rather the liberal precedent of Romer (22). In her rational basis analysis, she asserted that “moral disapproval of [homosexuals], like a bare desire to harm the group, is an interest that is insufficient to satisfy rational basis review under the Equal Protection Clause” (23). O’Connor’s decision in Lawrence was therefore much narrower and more minimalist than Kennedy’s, as she implied that a sodomy statute would still be constitutional while a same-sex sodomy statute would not. If O’Connor’s minimalist stance had been adopted by the rest of the Court, however, it seems that very little change would have occurred. In The Most Activist Court in Supreme Court History , Thomas M. Kerk notes that O’Connor’s reasoning would have only rendered four states’ same-sex anti-sodomy statutes unconstitutional (24). States would have still been able to adopt anti-sodomy statutes in general, and in practice, these statutes would likely only have been applied in same-sex cases. Consequently, Kennedy’s use of legal reasoning from both Casey (substantive due process) and Romer (equal protection) was imperative to establishing a precedent in Lawrence that resulted in legitimate change for the privacy and dignity of same-sex couples (25). The Shift After Lawrence: The Legal Fight for Same-Sex Marriage Following Lawrence , change was certainly on the horizon for same-sex couples in the US, particularly with regard to marriage. Evan Gerstmann, Professor of Political Science at Loyola Marymount University, argues in Same-Sex Marriage and the Constitution that Lawrence paved the way for lower courts to overturn bans on same- sex marriage (26). In November 2003, the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts ruled in Goodridge v. Department of Public Health that the state’s ban on same-sex marriage lacked a rational basis. The state had provided justifications for the ban, including “providing a ‘favorable setting for procreation,’” ensuring an optimal setting for child-rearing, and preserving state resources. Still, the Court rejected all three claims, stating that “...the [Massachusetts same-sex] marriage ban does not meet the rational basis test for either due process or equal protection.” As a result, Massachusetts became the first state to legalize same-sex marriage (27). As more states began to allow same-sex marriage and the topic penetrated the national conversation, federal challenges concerning the definition of marriage reached the Supreme Court, such as in the 2013 case of United States v. Windsor . This case challenged the legality of the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA), which Congress had enacted in 1996 (28). In Windsor , Thea Spyer and Edith Windsor had been in a committed relationship since 1963. In the 2000s, they were living in New York, which recognized same-sex marriage ordained elsewhere but would not legalize same-sex marriage itself for a few more years (29). As Spyer’s health deteriorated, the couple married in Ontario, Canada and then returned to New York. Upon her death, Spyer left Windsor all that she had. Although the couple had been married, Windsor was unable to claim a marital estate tax exemption due to Section 3 of the Defense of Marriage Act, which defined marriage as the “legal union between one man and one woman” (30). As a result, Windsor was required to pay $363,053 in estate taxes. For a heterosexual, federally sanctioned marriage, the entire estate tax would have been waived. When Windsor sought a refund, the Internal Revenue Service refused and claimed that Windsor was not a surviving spouse (31). Although Windsor had to first prove she had standing in the case, the central question in Windsor was whether or not the Defense of Marriage Act violated her right to equal protection under the Fifth Amendment (32). Indeed, the Court found that the federal government failed to provide a sufficient rationale for DOMA, but did not explicitly point to the level of scrutiny that it used to come to this conclusion. During the hearing of Windsor , Paul D. Clement, who represented the House of Representatives, implored the justices to adhere to the rational basis test. He also provided the apparent justification of the federal government for the act: uniformity of the definition of marriage across states. DOMA had been passed in 1996, just as same-sex marriage was starting to be considered at the state level. In Clement’s view, Congress at the time became concerned that same-sex couples would travel to other states to be legally wed and then return to a state in which their marriage was not valid and insist that it remained so (33). Nonetheless, reading from a 1996 House Report, Justice Kagan pointed out another potential legislative rationale for DOMA, which was that “Congress decided to reflect an honor of collective moral judgment and to express moral disapproval of homosexuality” (34). Clement then argued that the report’s revelation of the intentions of some legislators did not necessarily lead to a failure of the rational basis test (35). Moreover, in his dissent in Windsor , Justice Scalia emphasized the rationale of uniformity, as well as his decades-old notion (dating back to Romer ) that the Constitution does not forbid the government to enforce traditional moral and sexual norms (36). Traditionally, sexual orientation has been relegated to the sphere of rational basis tests— immediate scrutiny often includes sex or gender and heightened scrutiny is often in regard to race (37). The level of scrutiny utilized is crucial to the level of protection given to a select class. The rational basis test, or rational review, is generally used in cases where no fundamental rights are at stake. In Windsor , Scalia also slighted Kennedy and the rest of those in the majority for their unwillingness to announce that they were using anything more than a rational basis test in their conclusion—a critical shift in the jurisprudence of gay rights cases. Scalia berated the majority members for their leveling up of protection for sexual orientation, writing that: “The opinion does not resolve and indeed does not even mention what had been the central question in this litigation: whether, under the Equal Protection Clause, laws restricting marriage to a man and a woman are reviewed for more than mere rationality” (38). While the justices in the majority did not indicate that they were utilizing heightened scrutiny, it is notable that Justice Breyer pointed out in the Windsor hearing that for “rational basis-plus,” the rationale of uniformity might not be sufficient (39). Although flippant, this points to the possibility that the liberal justices were consciously raising the level of scrutiny for discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Scalia’s critique also points to a more serious concern for proponents of civil rights: erratic levels of scrutiny are not only the case for discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, but now also for discrimination on the basis of race. Berkeley Law Professor Russell Robinson argued that the Court has decidedly leveled up some types of scrutiny, particularly for discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, while it has lowered it for issues of race (40). Arkansas Law Professor Susannah Pollvogt took this a step further, arguing that Kennedy’s analysis regarding the discrimination ordinance in Romer (1996) is incompatible with his analysis in Schuette v. Coalition to Defend Affirmative Action (2014). In Schuette , Michigan voters had enacted a similar ordinance to that discussed in Romer which precluded future protections based on race, and Kennedy found that such an ordinance was constitutional (41). In this regard, it does seem that Scalia was correct: the justices that supported gay rights issues over the last 25 years had seemingly changed their level of scrutiny without announcing it. Although this may seem like a win to gay rights advocates, unconscious or unannounced changes regarding the Court’s level of scrutiny can have profound effects, particularly as the Court levels down its protections for race and gender. Windsor and Obergefell: A Resolution... Beyond the rational basis test, the Court was concerned about whether DOMA intruded on the principle of federalism and if the federal government could im- pose one uniform idea of marriage on the states (42). Justice Kennedy’s opinion in Windsor suggests that the decision in Obergefell v. Hodges may not resolve the concern with federalism. He indicates that in Windsor, federalism was of grave concern to the majority and that a future case that would establish same-sex marriage at a federal level could meet serious challenges from the Court. He wrote that state governments are delegated authority on the matter of marriage and divorce, quoting Haddock v. Haddock (1906) (43). In this regard, he asserted that “DOMA, because of its reach and extent, departs from this history and tradition of reliance on state law to define marriage” (44). In a 2014 article entitled “Federalism as a Way Station, Windsor as Exemplar of Doctrine in Motion,” Duke University Law Professor Neil S. Siegel acknowledged that the Court concocted their decision in Windsor to a certain degree (45). It is clear that imbued in the majority opinion was concern for federalism, equal protection, and substantive due process, but it is not as easy to discern where each concern lies or originates. In particular, Siegel noted the difference between Scalia and Roberts’ dissents. Roberts, for example, read the majority opinion as being concerned with federalism, although he himself thought that Windsor lacked standing (46). Scalia, by contrast, thought that the majority was more concerned with the malice directed at same-sex couples by the federal government, and, consequently, its intention to impose inequalities and restrictions on same-sex couples (47). Siegel argues that the Court resisted making a definitive judgment on either side and instead used the concept of federalism to push the country towards marriage equality. Thus, the rhetoric of federalism employed by Kennedy in the majority opinion, as well as the majority’s choice not to announce the level of scrutiny applied, may be used by the Court as a way station to a future resolution. Popularized by constitutional law scholar Alexander Bickel, this approach would seek to invite, as opposed to resolve, national conversation (48). Siegel’s interpretation may suggest that federalism was less of a concern to Kennedy and rather a means of rhetoric to push the Court in one direction. Obergefell v. Hodges itself also provides clearer guidance as to why the federalism notion in Windsor can be disregarded. In Obergefell , Justice Kennedy rooted his decision in the ever-changing due process jurisprudence, citing marriage as a fundamental right laid out in Griswold v. Connecticut (1965) and Loving v. Virginia (1967) (49). Nonetheless, the Court hesitated to enforce a federal definition of marriage onto the states. At the onset of the hearing, Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg asked Mary Bonauto, counsel for Obergefell, how to square the Windsor case with Obergefell , a case in which “the Court stressed the government’s historic deference to the States when it comes to matters of domestic relations” (50). Although Bonauto agreed with Justice Ginsburg’s characterization of Windsor , she suggested that Obergefell differed in an important way: the Court’s failure to affirm the right to same-sex marriage would result in a violation of the Fourteenth Amendment. Conversely, in Windsor , the Court struck down a definition of marriage for the states because it prevented equal protection. The two cases are thus an inversion of one another in this regard, allowing Obergefell to overcome the federalism concern of Windsor . On a constitutional level, however, Obergefell intertwined the notions of the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses in a manner akin to that of Lawrence . Indeed, Obergefell relied heavily on precedents from Lawrence, Romer , and Casey which were imperative for differentiating Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion from Justice O’Connor’s concurrence in Lawrence . A similar process seemingly occurred with Obergefell . NYU Law Professor of Law Kenji Yoshino argues that while the Court relied on both the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses of the Fourteenth Amendment, it put greater faith in fundamental rights claims (51). In Loving , the equality and liberty claims were made in parallel to one another (52). In Obergefell , Justice Kennedy described them as interrelated and unable to be captured fully without one another. But just as O’Connor’s equal protection concurrence in Lawrence would have only resulted in the striking down of same-sex sodomy statutes, the enforcement of Obergefell may have been weaker had Kennedy not invoked the substantive due process claim in his decision. Theoretically, the Court’s use of both clauses should have prompted states to level up their protection for same-sex couples, as opposed to exiting the marriage licensing business altogether. As Yoshino notes, this was a concern in South Africa’s 2005 decision to legalize same-sex marriage, in which the Constitutional Court of South Africa warned against their “levelling down” of marriage licensing in the wake of the decision (53). Nonetheless, although the US Supreme Court attempted to use both the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses in Obergefell to mitigate such practices, the enforcement of Obergefell was not necessarily easy. One prominent example concerned Kim Davis, a county clerk in Kentucky, who refused to grant a marriage certificate to a same-sex couple on the grounds of freedom of religion (54). Yoshino asserts that actors such as Kim Davis “violate a due process ruling in a way that would not violate an equal protection ruling” (55). Such a sentiment mirrors the potential outcome of O’Connor’s opinion in Lawrence —had her opinion been carried out, the decision would have been toothless. Indeed, the entire jurisprudence of the Court in the area of gay rights seems to have some sort of internal consistency. This raises the question: following Romer and Lawrence , was Obergefell predictable? Ron Kahn, James Monroe Professor of Politics and Law at Oberlin College, argues that Obergefell could have been predicted by commentators that recognized the Court’s combination of formalist and realist conceptions of gay rights (56). At first glance, the Rehnquist Court and Roberts Court jurisprudence on issues of sexual orientation is a bit surprising, as Kahn remarks: “... the Supreme Court has reaffirmed and expanded implied fundamental rights and equal protection under the law for gay men and lesbians during a period of political dominance by social conservatives, evangelical Christians, and other groups who view the protection of their definition of family values as a central mission of government” (57). Integral to Kahn’s conception of the Supreme Court over these decades is whether or not justices understand the bidirectionality between legal principles (a more formalistic conception) and the “lived lives of individuals” (a more realistic conception) (58). In Windsor , for example, Kahn asserts that Justice Kennedy engaged in a realist form of decision-making as he discussed the burdens that DOMA placed on same-sex couples with regard to their married and family lives.59 Kahn traces this bidirectionality from Lawrence to Obergefell , arguing that he was able to anticipate Obergefell insofar as the case was internally consistent with its precedents, and it relied on the bidirectionality of realism and formalism (60). Final Remarks It seems less likely that Kahn could have anticipated the later developments of the Court’s jurisprudence on gay rights issues, particularly with the case of Masterpiece Cakeshop, Ltd. v. Colorado Civil Rights (2018). In this case, Jack Philips, a Colorado baker and owner of Masterpiece Cakeshop, refused to create a wedding cake for a gay couple (61). Notably, this interaction occurred in 2012 before the Obergefell decision. Relying on the Free Exercise and Free Speech Clauses, the Court ruled in a 7–2 decision that the Colorado Civil Rights Commission’s decision in favor of the gay couple violated the First Amendment. Kahn’s framework does not seem to suit this case; indeed, if the Court had an understanding of the lived lives of gay people, and the discrimination that they face, it may have provided greater weight to the commission. Instead, the Court found that the Commission had “clear and impermissible hostility” toward Philips (62). In his majority opinion, Chief Justice Roberts asserted that the commission’s hostility revealed that Philips was not afforded the neutrality mandated by the Free Exercise Clause. Cases such as Masterpiece Cakeshop certainly cast doubt on the progress of gay rights advocacy. Regardless, gay rights advocates have achieved a series of victories over the last 35 years, from Romer in regard to discrimination ordinances, to Lawrence in regard to anti-sodomy statutes, to Windsor and Obergefell as the Court redefined marriage to include same-sex couples. Backlash, however, is still probable. Indeed, the Massachusetts Supreme Court’s decision in Goodrich in November of 2003 was likened to “an early Christmas gift to Republicans” prior to Massachusetts Senator John Kerry’s bid for the presidency in 2004 (63). Although Obergefell should have been anticipated, it certainly highlights the Court’s continued inability to state its level of scrutiny in regard to discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, which lends itself to conservative critiques. Many commentators have also found it problematic that the Court has leveled up its protection for sexual orientation while it it has simultaneously leveled it down for race. Nonetheless, it is promising that the Court has provided greater civil rights for the gay community. The Court’s internal consistency should be kept in mind for proponents of gay equality—even if its jurisprudence has been correct. The future of civil rights litigation hinges on it. Endnotes 1 Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186. (U.S. Supreme Court 1986). See Justice White’s majority opinion. 2 Ibid. See Justice Stevens’ dissent. 3 Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (U.S. Supreme Court 2015). See Justice Kennedy’s opinion, in which he lists the aspects of life in which rights are conferred on married couples: taxation; inheritance and property rights; rules of intestate succession; spousal privilege in the law of evidence; hospital access; medical decision-making authority; adoption rights; the rights and benefits of survivors; birth and death certificates; professional ethics rules; campaign finance restrictions; workers’ compensation benefits; health insurance; and child custody, support, and visitation rules. 4 Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186. (U.S. Supreme Court 1986). 5 Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702. (U.S. Supreme Court 1997). 6 Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186. (U.S. Supreme Court 1986). See Justice Stevens’ dissent. 7 Ibid. See oral argument. This line of questioning starts at 51:50. O’Connor states “Perhaps the state [of Georgia] can say its desire to deter the spread of a communicable disease or something of that sort,” to which Mr. Tribe replies. 8 Romer v. Evans, 517 U.S. 620. (U.S. Supreme Court 1996). See Justice Kennedy’s opinion. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. 11 In Romer, Scalia argued that a ‘politically-powerful minority’ is acting against the majority will of Colorado: “the majority of citizens [is attempting] to preserve its view of sexual morality state wide against the efforts of a geographically concentrated and politically powerful minority to undermine it.” 12 Romer v. Evans, 517 U.S. 620. (U.S. Supreme Court 1996). Opinion Announcement - May 20, 1996. 13 Ibid. See oral argument: 52:57-53:36. Scalia asks: “It seems to me the legitimacy of the one follows from the legitimacy of the other. If you can criminalize it, surely you can take that latter step, can’t you?... Doesn’t... if the one is constitutional, must not the other one be?” 14 Ibid. 15 Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186. (U.S. Supreme Court 1986). See oral argument: 35:41. Tribe states: “But, as this Court recognized in Loving against Virginia, where also a majority of the people of Virginia believed that interracial liaisons were inherently immoral and where for a long time a lot of people had believed that, this Court did not think that the Constitution’s mission was to freeze that historical vision into place.” 16 Dahlia Lithwick, “Extreme Makeover: The Story behind the Story of Lawrence v. Texas,” The New Yorker, Mar. 4, 2012, https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2012/03/12/extreme-makeover-dahlia-lithwick. 17 Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (U.S. Supreme Court 2003). See oral argument: 1:48-2:10. 18 Ibid. See Justice O’Connor concurrence. 19 Ibid. See Kennedy opinion. 20 Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (U.S. Supreme Court 1992). 21 Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (U.S. Supreme Court 2003). See Kennedy opinion. 22 Thomas M. Kerk, The Most Activist Court in Supreme Court History: The Road to Modern Judicial Conservatism (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004), 219. 23 Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (U.S. Supreme Court 2003). See Justice O’Connor concurrence. 24 Kerk, The Most Activist Court in Supreme Court History, 219. 25 Kenji Yoshino, “A New Birth of Freedom?: Obergefell v. Hodges,” Harvard Law Review 129, no. 147 (2015): 173. 26 Evan Gerstmann, Same-Sex Marriage and the Constitution: We All Deserve The Freedom To Marry (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), xii. 27 Ibid, xiii. 28 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion. 29 N. S. Siegel, “Federalism as a Way Station: Windsor as Exemplar of Doctrine in Motion,” Journal of Legal Analysis 6, no. 1 (2014): 89, https://doi.org/10.1093/jla/lau002. 30 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion. 31 Ibid. 32 In Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013), the petitioners were denied standing. This was certainly a concern for Windsor; Roberts’ opinion indicated that he would have denied standing here as well. 33 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). Oral argument: 1:06:05. Clement gives the example of Hawaii here, which had considered legalizing same- sex marriage around the time that DOMA was enacted. 34 Ibid. Oral argument: 1:14:16. 35 Ibid. Oral argument: 1:14:40. Clement’s rebuttal was that the improper motive of a few legislators does not mean that DOMA would necessarily fail the rational-basis test: “This Court, even when it’s to find more heightened scrutiny, the O’Brien case we cite, it suggests, Look, we are not going to strike down a statute just because a couple of legislators may have had an improper motive.” 36 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See Justice Scalia’s dissent. 37 Legal Information Institute at Cornell Law. “Strict Scrutiny. https://www.law.cornell. edu/wex/strict_scrutiny. 38 Ibid. See Scalia’s dissent. 39 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See oral argument: 1:17:41. 40 Russell K. Robinson, “Unequal Protection,” Stanford Law Review 68, no. 1 (2016): 151. 41 Susannah William Pollvogt, “Thought Experiment: What If Justice Kennedy Had Approached Romer v. Evans the Way He Approached Schuette v. BAMN?,” SSRN Electronic Journal, 2014, https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2436616. 42 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See oral argument: 1:16:09. Kennedy stated: “The question is whether or not the Federal government, under our federalism scheme, has the authority to regulate marriage.” 43 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion. 44 Ibid. 45 Siegel, “Federalism as a Way Station,” 87. 46 United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). See Roberts’ dissent. 47 Siegel, “Federalism as a Way Station,” 90. 48 Ibid, 87. 49 Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (U.S. Supreme Court 2015). See Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion. 50 Ibid. See oral argument. Within seconds (0:52), Justice Ginsburg asked this question: “What do you do with the Windsor case where the court stressed the Federal government’s historic deference to States when it comes to matters of domestic relations?” 51 Yoshino, “A New Birth of Freedom?: Obergefell v. Hodges ,” 148. 52 Ibid, 172. 53 Minister of Home Affairs v. Fourie, No. ZACC 19 (Constitutional Court of South Africa 2006). The Honorable Justice Albie Sachs of the Constitutional Court of South Africa: “Levelling down so as to deny access to civil marriage to all would not promote the achievement of the enjoyment of equality. Such parity of exclusion rather than of inclusion would distribute resentment evenly, instead of dissipating it equally for all. The law concerned with family formation and marriage requires equal celebration, not equal marginalisation; it calls for equality of the vineyard and not equality of the graveyard.” 54 Alan Blinder and Tamar Lewin, “Clerk in Kentucky Chooses Jail Over Deal on Same- Sex Marriage,” New York Times , Sept. 3, 2015, https://www.nytimes.com/2015/09/04/us/kim-davis-same-sex-marriage.html. 55 Yoshino, “A New Birth of Freedom?: Obergefell v. Hodges ,” 173. 56 Ronald Kahn, “The Right to Same-Sex Marriage: Formalism, Realism, and Social Change in Lawrence (2003), Windsor (2013), & Obergefell (2015),” Maryland Law Review 75, no. 1 (2015): 271–311. 57 Ibid, 272. 58 Ibid, 275. 59 Ibid, 292. 60 Ibid, 302. “...specifically, Obergefell cannot be explained only on the basis of either formalist or realist elements.” 61 Noah Feldman and Kathleen M. Sullivan, Constitutional Law , Twentieth edition, University Casebook Series (St. Paul: Foundation Press, 2019). Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission, 584 U.S. ___, 138 (2018). 62 Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission, 584 U.S. ___ (U.S. Supreme Court 2018). 63 Michael J. Klarman, From the Closet to the Altar: Courts, Backlash, and the Struggle for Same-Sex Marriage (New York: Oxford University Press, Incorporated, 2012), 183. https://ebookcentral.proquest.com/lib/swarthmore/detail.action?pqorigsite=primo&docID=5746877#. Bibliography Blinder, Alan, and Tamar Lewin. “Clerk in Kentucky Chooses Jail Over Deal on Same-Sex Marriage.” New York Times , Sept. 3, 2015. https://www.ny-times.com/2015/09/04/us/kim-davis-same-sex- marriage.html. Bowers v. Hardwick, 478 U.S. 186. (U.S. Supreme Court 1986). Gerstmann, Evan. Same-Sex Marriage and the Constitution: We All Deserve The Freedom To Marry . Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Feldman, Noah, and Kathleen M. Sullivan. Constitutional Law . Twentieth edition. University Casebook Series. St. Paul: Foundation Press, 2019. Hollingsworth v. Perry, 570 U.S. 693 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). Kahn, Ronald. “The Right to Same-Sex Marriage: Formalism, Realism, and Social Change in Lawrence (2003), Windsor (2013), & Obergefell (2015).” Maryland Law Review 75, no. 1 (2015): 271–311. Kerk, Thomas M. The Most Activist Court in Supreme Court History: The Road to Modern Judicial Conservatism. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004. Klarman, Michael J. From the Closet to the Altar: Courts, Backlash, and the Struggle for Same-Sex Marriage. Oxford: Oxford University Press, Incorporated, 2012. Lawrence v. Texas, 539 U.S. 558 (U.S. Supreme Court 2003). Lithwick, Dahlia. “Extreme Makeover: The Story behind the Story of Lawrence v. Texas.” The New Yorker, Mar. 4, 2012. https://www.newyorker.com/ magazine/2012/03/12/extreme-makeover- dahlia-lithwick. Masterpiece Cakeshop v. Colorado Civil Rights Commission, 584 U.S. ___ (U.S. Supreme Court 2018). Minister of Home Affairs v. Fourie, No. ZACC 19 (Constitutional Court of South Africa 2006). Obergefell v. Hodges, 576 U.S. 644 (U.S. Supreme Court 2015). Planned Parenthood of Southeastern Pennsylvania v. Casey, 505 U.S. 833 (U.S. Supreme Court 1992). Pollvogt, Susannah William. “Thought Experiment: What If Justice Kennedy Had Approached Romer v. Evans the Way He Approached Schuette v. BAMN?” SSRN Electronic Journal , 2014. https://doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2436616. Robinson, Russell K. “Unequal Protection.” Stanford Law Review 68, no. 1 (2016): 151–233. Romer v. Evans, 517 U.S. 620. (U.S. Supreme Court 1996). Siegel, N. S. “Federalism as a Way Station: Windsor as Exemplar of Doctrine in Motion.” Journal of Legal Analysis 6, no. 1 (2014): 87–150. https://doi. org/10.1093/jla/lau002. Legal Information Institute at Cornell Law. “Strict Scrutiny. https://www.law.cornell.edu/wex/strict_scrutiny. United States v. Windsor, 570 U.S. 744 (U.S. Supreme Court 2013). Washington v. Glucksberg, 521 U.S. 702. (U.S. Supreme Court 1997). Yoshino, Kenji. “A New Birth of Freedom?: Obergefell v. Hodges.” Harvard Law Review 129, no. 147 (2015): 147-179. Previous Next

Travis Harper More Than Just a Thought Crime? A Retributivist View of Hate Crime Legislation Travis Harper Most are familiar with the common conception of a hate crime: a violent act that involves some form of animus towards a particular group, usually a protected class. “Hate crimes” are considered to be more morally reprehensible than their counterparts that are not motivated by any particular animus or hatred. Accordingly, different jurisdictions have enacted legislation criminalizing these types of acts, oftentimes associating them with harsher penalties than crimes committed for other reasons. Still, while hate crimes seem like a simple and intuitive concept, the actual statutes that different legislatures enacted to criminalize them tend to vary in their definitions and application. In the United States, for example, anyone who “willfully causes bodily injury to any person... because of the actual or perceived race, color, religion, or national origin of any person” shall be found guilty of a federal hate crime (1). Germany, however, takes a different approach. While “under German criminal law, ‘politically motivated’ (2) hate crimes do not constitute explicit offenses or give rise automatically to higher sentences,” judges have a wide latitude to take aggravating factors into account when sentencing (3). Germany does , however, have a statute which criminalizes those who “incite hatred against” and “violate the human dignity” of populations or individuals on “account of their belonging to a... national, racial, or religious group or a group defined by their ethnic origin” (4) Clearly, the concept of a hate crime is not as intuitive as it seems to be. Thus, the question remains: What is a “hate crime”? Moral and legal theorists have wrestled with this same question, along with raising other concerns. “Hate crimes” are unique in that their mens rea element, the requisite intent of the perpetrator in order to be found guilty of the crime, typically entails proving some form of hatred or bias. Thus, hate crimes effectively criminalize specific “hateful” mental states. Whether or not a person has committed a hate crime does not depend on their actual physical actions; rather, it depends on their motivations in doing so—whether they did so because of some animus towards their victim or a particular group of people. Naturally, this begs the question: To what extent is this justified? Can we punish offenders for their motivations in committing a crime along with their actions? Heidi Hurd, lawyer and legal theorist, sought to answer questions akin to these in her article, “Why Liberals Should Hate ‘Hate Crime Legislation’.” In doing so, Hurd argues that when “hatred and bias are construed as mens rea elements... they [become] alien to traditional criminal law principles”(5). She also argues that hate crime legislation—at least how it is conceived of today—is unjustifiable. Specifically, Hurd outlines that hate crime legislation has no place within our “act-centered theory of criminal punishment” and “liberal theory of legislation” because of the way it effectively criminalizes “emotional states... [that] constitute standing character traits rather than occurrent mental states (intentions, purposes, choices etc.)” (6). Hurd’s critique is quite comprehensive and forces all advocates for hate crime legislation to ask themselves: is there any justification for hate crime legislation that is in line with a liberal theory of legislation? This is the question that this paper seeks to answer. Through a critical analysis of Hurd’s argument, references to other legal theorists and philosophers, and empirical evidence, I will argue that within a retributivist theory of punishment, hate crime legislation is justifiable and morally accept- able. A retributivist theory of punishment prioritizes proportionality, the principle that the punishment associated with a crime varies based upon the severity of the crime, or how morally reprehensible the crime is, which can be determined by the amount of harm an action causes. I will argue that hate crimes cause more severe harm to the victim than do crimes committed for other reasons. Further, since hate crimes are unique in that they cause harm to both the victim and their community, they constitute both a public and private harm. Thus, not only is it morally acceptable, but rather it is required to make hate crimes distinct within the criminal law with increased punishment compared to crimes that are not committed due to any particular animus. Further, I will argue that hate crime legislation does not merely criminalize mental states or political beliefs; rather it criminalizes the explicit intent to cause increased harm to a specific group of people. This is a standard that any hate crime statute should make abundantly clear. It is worthwhile to clarify what this paper does not seek to address. This paper will not weigh the merits of a retributivist’s conception of punishment against that of a consequentialist; surely, a consequentialist’s justification of hate crime legislation would be vastly different, most likely focusing on the possible benefit that could arise from specifically criminalizing hate crimes. Additionally, the paper will not analyze hate crimes and hate crime legislation from a sociological perspective; rather, it will focus on the moral and philosophical implications that legislators must consider when drafting hate crime legislation. Hurd’s Argument Within her critique of hate crime legislation, Hurd offers two possible arguments in support of making hate crimes distinct within the criminal law, entailing harsh- er punishment. The first of these relies upon a precedent within Anglo-American common law. Specifically, it is not uncommon for those who have “particularly vicious reasons for action” to be more harshly punished (7). For example, some jurisdictions have enhanced punishments for pre-meditated murder, those that deliberately take the life of another. Hurd also highlights the existence of “specific intent crimes,” or “crimes that require defendants to commit prohibited actions with certain further purposes” (8). Burglary, for instance, is an example of a specific intent crime as it requires that someone “must break and enter with some further intention, say to steal, rape, or kill” (9). Hurd posits that neither of these doctrines serve as justifications for hate crime legislation, primarily due to her contention that “hatred” and “bias” are emotional states, not occurrent mental states like intentions. If this is the case, then hate crime legislation is inherently criminalizing mental states, leaving those who support hate crime legislation with two lines of argumentation. Firstly, they might argue that the types of hatred and bias typical to hate crime legislation, contending that, for example, “racial hatred or gender bias is morally worse than greed, jealousy, and revenge” (10), or any other motive for that matter. Secondly, they might further a utilitarian argument, claiming that “hatred and bias are uniquely responsive to criminal sanctions in a way that greed, jealousy and vengeance are not” (11). Both of these arguments, however, violate liberalism in the way that they arbitrarily choose a specific motive to be either considerably more morally reprehensible or responsive to criminal sanctions. I take two main responses to Hurd’s argument. First, I take issue with Hurd’s characterization of hatred and bias when they are construed as mens rea elements; hatred and bias can be considered to be occurrent mental states when they are understood as the intent of the actor to create the increased harms associated with hate crimes, not just the actor’s bigoted views in and of themselves. Second, even if this were the case, and hate crimes did criminalize bigoted views, I argue that considering hatred and bias to be particularly culpable mental states is justified. Hate crimes are considerably more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons because of the aforementioned increased harm they cause, and they deserve increased punishment accordingly. I will address these two concerns separately. Hate Crimes and Specific Intent Crimes One of the key concerns that Hurd addresses is the extent to which hate crime legislation can be drafted within the bounds of liberalism and Anglo-American Common Law. One of Hurd’s main contentions within her article is that hate crime legislation, at least in the way that it is conceived of today, criminalizes emotions or dispositions, as opposed to occurrent mental states. I argue that this is not the case, because of the fact that hate crime legislation does not and should not criminalize the mere fact that a perpetrator holds a specific belief; rather, it should criminalize their intention to cause specific harms to their victim and the victim’s community at large. Michael Moore, in his work The Moral Worth of Retribution, defines “intentions”—within a retributivist theory of punishment—as “function states whose roles are to mediate between background states of motivation and those (bodily) motion-guid- ing states of volition that are parts of actions” (12). Moore illustrates this distinction through the analogy of a person deciding to get their hair cut. The background state of this action is that they “desire to get a haircut,” their intention is the belief that “if [they] go to the barber shop, [they] will get a haircut” and finally, the “motion-guiding state of volition” is that they indeed make the decision in their mind to “go to that barber shop” (13). Thus, the intention that is relevant in regards to criminal liability is one in which the actor decides on a means to reach a specific goal. Applying this framework to hate crimes, the “emotional states’’ that Hurd references are not the intentions that are legally relevant; rather, they are background states of motivations. They are the deep desires of the actor. The intention , however, is the actor’s decision to act upon their bigoted motivations in order to accomplish a variety of goals, whether that be spreading a message, or intimidating members of the group they are targeting. The intention that is legally relevant is that an actor decided to resort to violence in order to spread their bigoted beliefs. Admittedly, most hate crime statutes do not make clear this distinction. Often, they simply mandate that the perpetrator chose their victim “for reason of” one of their specific identities. Thus, any hate crime statute must be clear in that if someone is to be convicted of a hate crime, then they must have intended to cause some specific harm to a particular community. With this understanding of intentions, the mens rea element of hate crimes does not criminalize an emotional state; rather, it criminalizes a specific intent to cause harm, not just to a person but to a broader community. As I will argue later, these harms are legally relevant because they cause hate crimes to be particularly more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons. Hurd’s critique, in this case, is mostly doctrinal, but it does carry key moral implications. Even if a hate crime causes considerably more harm, the physical action is not different from crime that is completely devoid of any hatred or bias motivation. Is it reasonable to criminalize someone based on the fact that they have hateful beliefs? Is this a violation of the liberalism that grounds Anglo-American common law? The next section of this paper seeks to answer these questions by discussing the morality of hate crimes. Hate Crime Legislation and the Harm Principle In order to justify the distinction within the criminal law between hate crimes and other crimes—particularly when they tend to carry harsher punishment—we must identify a principle that can aid in determining which actions are crimes, and the extent to which they should be punished, if possible. This principle must have two characteristics: (1) It must align and be consistent with a retributivist theory of punishment by being sufficiently “backward-looking” and (2) it must allow for the differentiation of crimes beyond mere moral intuition— differentiating crimes that are “worse” than others, deserving harsher punishment, while aligning with a liberal theory of punishment. John Rawls has famously characterized this theory as one that emboldens the state to enforce the “right” and not the “good” (14). These two specifications ensure that the justificatory logic underpinning hate crime legislation aligns with traditional Anglo-American common law principles, and falls within the scope of this paper and Hurd’s argument. The first of these specifications naturally flows from the scope of this essay. The principle used to justify any sort of hate crime legislation must be “backward-look- ing” or focused on the act itself. This is in opposition to any sort of principle or justification that is consequentialist or “forward-looking.” A consequentialist “approves or disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the tendency it appears to have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question” (15), with the “party” at hand being society as a whole, or even the actor themselves. Clearly, a consequentialist’s justification of hate crime legislation is different than that of a retributivist, which this paper intends to address. The second consideration is directly relevant to Hurd’s argument and, naturally, my critique thereof. One of Hurd’s primary critiques of hate crime legislation is that, if “hate” as a mens rea element is not considered to be an “occurrent mental state,” then hate crime legislation effectively criminalizes emotional states. Further, Hurd argues that criminalizing emotional states shifts from a “liberal theory” to a “perfectionist theory” of criminal law. This “liberal theory” of the criminal law extends from the general theory of Political Liberalism. Specifically, in draft- ing legislation, criminal or otherwise, the “government should be neutral among competing conceptions of the good life” (16). Within a society, there will be multiple conceptions of the good life, and the government should only be emboldened to enforce rights that are the result of an “overlapping consensus” that mediates “among conflicting views” (17). Hatred and bias, when not directly connected to an action, are generally considered to be moral beliefs or character traits—and as Hurd notes, “liberals have long believed that theories that construe certain character traits as virtuous or vicious belong to the province of the Good, rather than the Right” (18). Considering that I intend to argue that hate crimes primarily carry harsher sentences due to their being significantly more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons, the principle used to justify this distinction must aid us in determining which crimes are indeed “more morally reprehensible” beyond one’s moral intuition which would align with a liberal theory of punishment. It is quite easy and normal to determine what crimes “feel” more morally reprehensible based upon our own individual moral intuitions. Legislators, however, cannot simply draft criminal legislation based upon their own subjective moral intuitions on a case to case basis; that would not be entirely consistent with political liberalism. Any principle that we use in determining which crimes are more morally reprehensible must not only be applicable to hate crimes, but to any crime which is being considered. As Aristotle notes, “all law is universal” and legislators must take into account and legislate based upon “the usual case” (19). Thus, the principle used to justify hate crime legislation must also be one that is universally applicable. The principle that is most fitting is the “harm principle,” or the concept that the only actions that can be considered crimes are those that cause harm to others or the public. The most classic explication of this principle can be found in the work of John Stuart Mill, in which he claims that “the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others” (20). Put simply, the government can justify criminalization and punishment, overriding some individual rights, based upon the degree to which one being punished has caused “harm” to others. This principle aligns with the two specifications outlined earlier. The harm principle is sufficiently retributivist; If one were to justify punishment based upon the harm principle they would be focusing on the actions of the individual. Applying the harm principle compels legislators to ask: How much harm did the individual cause in their actions? The answer to this question directly affects whether or not their actions are considered criminal and the extent to which they should be punished. Further, Mill was an ardent liberal, and naturally, the “harm principle” aligns with a liberal theory of punishment. The harm principle works upon the liberal logic that an individual has the right not to be subjected to undue harm. While the harm principle does meet the specifications laid out earlier, “nowhere does [Mill] give an explicit general stipulation” as to what constitutes harm. In order to understand how hate crimes should be considered under the harm principle, we must further define our understanding of “harm” (21). Joel Feinberg, in his work Harm to Others, provides a useful definition of “harm.” Concretely, Feinberg defines it as a “setback to interests” (22) that can relate to an individual or to a wider group of people, where interests are “a miscellaneous collection, [consisting] of all those things which one has a stake” (23). While there are nuisances that could be considered harms—a person’s stock performing poorly, for example, could certainly be understood as a setback to interest—these nuisances only become harms in the legal sense when they are the results of an invasion by others. Further, Feinberg provides that this “invasion” becomes legally relevant if the actor is “in a worse condition than [they] would have otherwise been had the invasion not occurred at all” (24). Take, for example, an instance of a person being physically violent towards another. Physical violence towards another person to which they did not consent would certainly be a setback to the victim’s interests—perhaps to their interests in their own health and wellbeing, especially if they had been injured. Further, they would most definitely be in a worse condition due to the physical “invasion” by the other person. Additionally, harms can also manifest themselves as public or private harms. There are many crimes that most would consider to be harms that do not thwart the interest of one specific person. Take, for instance, those who counterfeit money; they are not harming any one person; rather, they are harming society as a whole, thwarting the interests of society by negatively affecting the economy. Working with this understanding of harm and how it operates within the harm principle, we can begin to analyze hate crimes and the harms that they cause. Subsequently, we can begin to analyze whether or not they are considerably more morally reprehensible, warranting increased punishment. I argue that hate crimes indeed cause significantly more harm because they cause an increased amount of harm to the individual in addition to causing public harm as well. Hate crimes cause increased private harm to their victims given that hate crimes do not just attack a person ; they attack their identity as well, causing a fractured sense of security and identity and leading to a myriad of negative effects, or harms . “Crimes... communicate a message to the victim that they do not count and are not worthy of respect” (25) and once someone becomes the victim of a hate crime, they begin to cope and rationalize why they specifically were targeted. While those who aren’t victims of hate crimes could just cite that they were “at the wrong place at the wrong time,” victims of hate crimes cannot adopt this as a possibility. When one is the victim of a hate crime, they will know that they have been target- ed based upon an aspect of their identity, and this in turn causes their identity to become “central to their internal awareness of why they have been victimized” (26). The unique way in which hate crimes target identity causes a variety of immeasurable harms to victims. They often cite increased sentiments of shame and guilt compared to those that have been victimized for other reasons. Not only that, hate crime victims report increased levels of anxiety and depression compared to those that have been victimized for other reasons. Certainly these negative effects are setbacks to interests as defined by Joel Feinberg. They fracture the victim’s sense of self and cause actual physical ailments, leaving them in a much worse condition than that in which they would have been if they had not been attacked at all, and especially if they had not been victimized because of their identity. Beyond the increased harms that hate crimes cause to their victims, they also cause additional public harm uncharacteristic of crimes committed for other reasons: harm caused to the wider community of the targeted group. While hate crimes are attacks on specific individuals, they are more so “symbolic messages to society about the worthiness of certain groups of people” (27). This message is a signal to minority communities that they are “unequal, unwelcome and undeserving of social respect,” and more pertinently, this message is a threat as well. The message of hate crimes creates a heightened sense of vulnerability and insecurity amongst minority communities that leads to an intense fear of victimization, inhibiting community members from living life without extreme caution. Members of minority communities that have been affected by hate crimes often note that the “fear and anxiety” felt by the victims of hate crimes “spreads to other community members” (28). This can be considered a public harm within the framework of the harm principle that I outlined earlier. The effects that hate crimes cause to minority communities can be defined as a setback to interests; again, it is certainly within our interest to be able to live our lives without fear of persecution or assault. Hate crimes deprive minority communities of their ability to do so. When hate crimes are considered within the framework of the harm principle, it is clear that they are more morally reprehensible. Does this naturally lend itself to the conclusion that they deserve increased punishment? I argue that, within a retributivist theory of punishment, it does lend itself to this conclusion given the principles of proportionality. Within the retributive model proposed by Immanuel Kant, the degree of punishment should adhere to “the principle of equality, by which the pointer of the scale of justice is made to incline no more to the one side than the other” (29). Considering the concept of proportionality within the framework of the harm principle, the degree of punishment for a crime should be proportional to the harm created by the crime. If that is the case, then hate crimes surely warrant increased punishment because of the increased harms that they cause, not only to their direct victims, but also to the communities that they affect. Conclusion This paper sought to provide a justification for hate crime legislation that con- formed to the principles of liberalism and aligned with a retributive theory of punishment. I found that harsher punishment for violent crimes related to hatred or bias towards a specific group can be justified when examined using the harm principle. Because hate crimes cause considerably more harm to their victims and minority communities, they are considerably more morally reprehensible than crimes committed for other reasons. When assessing whether or not these increased harms warrant increased punishment, we can rely on the notion of proportionality —that punishment for a crime should be proportional to the harm it creates. When examined in this way, increasing criminal sanctions for hate crimes is justified. Further, there are a variety of considerations that need to be taken into account when drafting hate crime legislation: specifically, hate crime legislation should be written to construe the mens rea element of the crime to be the intent to cause the increased harms to the individual and the minority community. Hate crimes are intuitively more morally reprehensible. At first we may think that they deserve increased punishment based upon how these crimes make us feel ; however, we should constantly question ourselves, examining whether our gut moral instincts align with the moral doctrines that guide our actions and the criminal law. In this case, hate crimes do indeed deserve increased punishment based upon these moral doctrines. Thus, legislatures intending on criminalizing hate crime legislation, or any crime for that matter, should not only take doctrinal considerations into account, but should also consider the moral justifications for why these actions deserve criminal liability. If this is the case, the law will begin to be much more consistent and comprehensive with the moral doctrines that we have adopted as a society. Endnotes 1 “Hate Crime Acts,” 18 U.S.C § 249 (2009), https://uscode.house.gov/view.xhtml?req=granuleid:USC- prelim-title18-section249&num=0&edition=prelim. 2 According to the German Ministry of Justice and Consumer Protection, a “politically motivated” crime includes crimes committed for reasons of the victim’s race, “political opinion, nationality, ethnicity, race, skin color, religion, belief, origin, disability, sexual orientation.” 3 Human Rights Watch, “The State Response to ‘Hate Crimes’ in Germany: A Human Rights Watch Briefing Paper,” Human Rights Watch, December 9, 2011, https://www.hrw.org/news/2011/12/09/state-response-hate-crimes-germany. 4 “Incitement of Masses,” German Criminal Code § 130 (1998), http://www.gesetze-im-internet.de/englisch_ stgb/englisch_stgb.html#p1241. 5 Heidi Hurd, “Why Liberals Should Hate ‘Hate Crime Legislation,’” Law and Philosophy 20, no. 2 (2001): 216. 6 Hurd, 216. 7 Ibid, 218. 8 Ibid, 218. 9 Ibid, 218. 10 Ibid, 226. 11 Ibid, 226. 12 Michael Moore, The Moral Worth of Retribution (Oxford University Press, 2010), 449. 13 Michael Moore, “The Metaphysics of Basic Acts III: Volitions as the Essential Source of Actions,” in Act and Crime: The Philosophy of Action and Its Implications for Criminal Law (Oxford University Press, 1993), 136–37. 14 John Rawls, Political Liberalism, Expanded Ed., Columbia Classics in Philosophy (Columbia University Press, 2005). 15 Jeremy Bentham, “An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation” (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1907), https://oll.libertyfund.org/titles/bentham-an-introduction-to-the-principles-of-morals-and-legislation. 16 Michael J. Sandel, “Political Liberalism,” Harvard Law Review 107, no. 7 (1994): 1766. 17 Sandel, 1775. 18 Hurd, 230. 19 Aristotle, “Politics,” trans. Benjamin Jowett, 1994, http://classics.mit.edu/Aristotle/politics.5.five.html. 20 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty (Batoche Books, 1859), 13. 21 D.G. Brown, “The Harm Principle,” in A Companion to Mill, ed. Christopher Macleod and Dale E. Miller (John Wiley & Sons, 2016), 411. 22 Joel Feinberg, Harm to Others, vol. 1, 4 vols. (Oxford University Press, 1984). 23 Feinberg, 1:38. 24 Feinberg, 1:34. 25 Mark Austin Walters, “The Harms of Hate Crime: From Structural Disadvantage to Individual Identity,” in Hate Crime and Restorative Justice (Oxford University Press, 2014), 71. 26 Walters, 73. 27 Mark Austin Walters, 84. 28 Ibid, 84. 29 Morris J. Fish, “An Eye for an Eye: Proportionality as a Moral Principle of Punishment,” Oxford Journal of Legal Studies 28, no. 1 (2008): 63. 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One Planet, One Oklahoma: Exploring a Framework for Assessing the Feasibility of Localized Energy Transitions in the United States Anna Hyslop Author Arjun Ray Arthur Shamgunov Benjamin Levy Editors Abstract Net-zero energy transitions, necessitated by the threat of climate change, need to occur on an international scale. However, powerful economic lobbies and political stagnation often mar the negotiation processes driving national and international action. In this context, local communities become increasingly important in achieving widespread emissions reduction objectives. This analysis centers on exploring a framework that evaluates the feasibility of net-zero energy transitions in U.S. localities. The framework highlights the technological and political feasibility of transitioning the electricity and transportation sectors of a given municipality. While such a framework does not capture the entirety of a community’s energy system, it nonetheless serves to address two sectors that dominate emissions production and energy usage. I apply this framework to the suburban community of Norman, Oklahoma, to both highlight the value of such analysis and to provide important information to local officials in my community. By collecting information from administrative and primary sources, this study documents forecasted decreases in the cost of renewable energy sources, residual emissions abatement technologies, and energy storage solutions for Norman. Further, an analysis of the local transportation sector reveals that the costs associated with public transit improvements—an important component of decarbonization in the transportation sector—generally ranged from 0.01-5.1% of the City’s 2023 budget (excluding national high-speed rail enhancements, which involve cost-sharing between local, state, and federal governments). I also examined the political feasibility of this transition, documenting the partisan preferences that may hinder clean energy implementation. My findings suggest that while technology costs may decrease, political opinion could hinder clean energy transitions in Oklahoma. The model of analysis employed throughout this study presents significant opportunities for further exploration of localized energy transitions in suburban areas and college towns, two types of municipalities often left out of transition scholarship. At the end of March in 2023, the United Nations’ Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) released a Synthesis Report covering the burgeoning climate crisis. The report served as the sixth installment in a series designed to inform international climate negotiations with updated scientific findings. Within the first ten pages, the IPCC reaffirmed common scientific consensus, declaring that “human activities, principally through the emissions of greenhouse gases, have unequivocally caused global warming.” Increasing global temperatures pose threats to people throughout the United States. Coastal communities in states like Texas and Florida have experienced a greater volume of flooding in part due to sea level rise resulting from climate change. Out West, Zhuang et al. (2021) found that “anthropogenic warming…contributed at least twice as much natural variability to the rapid increase of fire weather risk” observed in the record-breaking fires of 2020 in California, Washington, and Oregon. These two studies, as a part of a growing academic literature, demonstrate the variability found in the impacts of climate change across geographies. The United States, for its part in contributing to the crisis, produced 6.0 gigatons of carbon dioxide equivalents (Gt CO2eq) of greenhouse gas emissions in 2022, making up 11.2% of total global emissions. This makes the U.S. the second-largest global emitter behind China–which produced 15.7 Gt CO2eq in 2022–and puts it in the top ten global emitters per capita. With a population of approximately 4 million people, Oklahoma produces about 2% of the U.S.’s share of global emissions. Total emissions data for Norman, Oklahoma—home to the University of Oklahoma and the subject of this analysis—does not currently exist. If Norman, like many American cities, does not individually contribute much to the climate impact of the entire United States, then why does the possibility of a localized energy transition and a net-zero future for this municipality merit discussion? First and foremost, local communities play a critical role in achieving national carbon neutrality as they can overcome federal policy inertia. After the release of the first IPCC report in 1990, several transnational associations of municipalities–including Local Governments for Sustainability, Climate Alliance, and Energy Cities–were formed to help cities pursue climate targets in the face of “strong economic lobbies [that] were blocking national and international climate policies.” By belonging to these organizations, cities are granted legitimacy and support from other municipalities in pursuing localized climate policy action. Rutherford and Coutard (2014) further acknowledge the capability of cities to pursue climate work despite national gridlock, stating that “cities may have a window of opportunity for action on energy transitions by their distinctive…political and/or sociotechnical contexts compared with those at a national level.” The ability of cities to pursue sustainability work despite national constraints presents a compelling argument for exploring a local energy transition. Furthermore, greenhouse gas emissions—and the systems that lead to their release into the atmosphere—exist at local, regional, and national levels. Municipalities regularly make decisions regarding transportation, energy consumption, and land-use planning, three sectors that contribute heavily to total U.S. emissions. Collier and Löfstedt (1997) point out, however, that the financial and legal capacities of a city to enact local change vary greatly by location. Regardless of such limitations, changes at the community level contribute to broader national decarbonization objectives. The Biden Administration supported this argument in its long-term climate strategy, citing the importance of non-federal leadership—including municipalities—in reaching domestic carbon neutrality by 2050. Even smaller, suburban cities like Norman possess the power to radically reshape local transit and energy policy, addressing both its local carbon footprint and national carbon contributions. Third, Oklahoma—and Norman by extension—cannot escape the impacts of the climate crisis. The South Central Climate Adaptation Science Center predicts an average high temperature increase of more than 2 degrees Fahrenheit by midcentury without significant action to reduce emissions. The Fifth National Climate Assessment expands on these projected temperature increases, forecasting negative economic and public health consequences. The authors observed with high confidence that warmer temperatures and increasingly erratic weather patterns will “force widespread and costly changes” to the employment of Oklahomans. Additionally, climate change will result in increased water scarcity, animal extinction, and declining public health as extreme heat events become more common in the south-central United States. Tropical diseases and heat-related deaths are projected to increase in the warming region. Other public health impacts have already been observed in Tulsa, where the expansion of eastern red cedars—associated with longer pollen seasons—resulted in a 205% increase in allergic pollen intensity. Although the consequences of climate change borne by Oklahomans are largely not self-inflicted, we still bear responsibility for addressing our carbon footprint. Assessing Norman’s current capacity to transition to carbon-free consumption may encourage further action within Oklahoma’s cities, as only Oklahoma City currently pursues sustainable policy initiatives. Finally, analyzing the feasibility of an energy transition within Norman may spark further discussions about an energy transition in Oklahoma at large. Our local context incorporates both the resources of a nationally-recognized research institution and heavy dependence on the automobile. This combination of factors should make Norman—and other suburban college towns—a subject of interest. Drewello notes the importance of university partnerships in assessing “unique local situations” and generating innovative solutions. With access to the University of Oklahoma and its faculty, Norman offers a great opportunity for building a model to inspire a statewide or regional energy transition. Furthermore, our dependence on the automobile mirrors that of other suburban communities within the state; accordingly, any assessment of Norman’s potential for changes in the transportation sector can provide a framework for similar analyses within Oklahoma. In the Routledge Handbook of Energy Transitions , Miller et al. (2022) call for the systematic “mapping” of the policies, processes, and pathways needed to achieve regional carbon neutrality. The study offers a novel framework for analyzing the feasibility of net-zero localized energy transitions in the United States. Though Norman, Oklahoma, is used merely as an example of the application of this framework, the case study provides a model for similar analyses to be conducted in other localities. I focus on establishing this underlying framework for a local energy transition by assessing the current energy system and analyzing the technological and political feasibility of achieving a net-zero future in Norman. To conduct this assessment, I researched administrative, academic, news, and primary sources to gather cost estimates of different technologies. I also analyzed national and state-level assessments of public opinion on renewable energy development to understand the transition’s political feasibility. The remainder of this paper outlines the definitions and criteria used throughout the study, with an in-depth examination of Norman’s current energy system following soon after. Then, I offer an assessment of both the technological and political feasibility of pursuing an energy transition. My general conclusions from this research follow the feasibility assessments. I. Outlining the Energy Transition: Definitions and Criteria In this section, I provide an overview of several proposed definitions of energy transitions, as well as the objectives that such transitions seek to achieve. I then articulate this study’s interpretation of a net-zero energy transition and my justification for selecting such a definition. Finally, I conclude with an explanation of the criteria by which I will assess feasibility in later sections of this paper. Prior academic work provides many definitions that explain the fundamentals of energy transitions. Araújo (2022) postulates that basic energy transitions involve a “considerable shift in the nature or pattern of how energy is used within a system, including the type, quantity, or quality of how energy is sourced, delivered, or utilized.” Zinecker et al. (2018) offer a simpler yet similar definition to Araújo, defining energy transitions as “shifts… [in] the way people produce and consume electricity using different technologies and sources.” Drewello builds on the foundations provided by Araújo and Zinecker et al. to postulate that an energy transition “is nothing less than a revolutionary restructuring of the entire energy supply in the sectors of electricity, heat, and transportation.” Here, Drewello points out specific sectors involved in a transition. These three definitions articulate the basics of an energy transition, defined in this study as a fundamental, multi-sectoral shift in both the consumption and production of energy towards a net-zero future. A net-zero future achieves maximum emissions reductions while using carbon capture technologies to remove any residual emissions. Accordingly, net-zero transitions involve deploying renewable energy technologies–like solar, wind, and nuclear power facilities–at scale. I elected to study the feasibility of a net-zero energy transition with a framework inspired in part by the literature. In evaluating Norman’s current energy sector, I focus on two of the sectors highlighted by Drewello: electricity and transportation. These sectors compromise 53% of U.S. emissions, with transportation at 28% of the total. Although Norman may not observe the same trends in emissions as the greater United States, addressing emissions in these two sectors is of great national importance and should be relevant to an energy transition in Norman as well. The decision to focus on the electricity and transportation sectors represents the first layer of my analytical framework. The second layer consists of considering both the technological and political feasibility of making net-zero transitions in each sector. Sovacool and Geels (2016) provide justification for these considerations. They divide the elements of an energy transition into three “interrelated” categories: “the tangible elements of socio-technical systems…actors and social networks…[and] socio-technical regimes.” In practice, these three dimensions prove difficult to distinguish from each other, but still roughly suggest a division between the intangibles and the tangibles of energy transitions. This study understands political feasibility to be the intangibles of transitions—namely, public support for clean energy development–and technological feasibility to be the tangible elements of an energy transition, most notably the costs associated with shifting to renewable energy and developing emissions reduction techniques. II. Norman Now: Our Energy Today Of the 90 million megawatt-hours (MWh) of electricity generated in Oklahoma in 2023, 40 million MWh (or around 44%) of this generation came from renewable sources. Norman hosts two primary electric utilities: Oklahoma Gas and Electric (OG&E) and Oklahoma Electric Cooperative (OEC). OG&E provides generation, transmission, and distribution services across Oklahoma and parts of western Arkansas. While public data listing the number of OG&E customers in Norman is not currently available, it serves approximately 888,800 customers across its service territory. OG&E reports that 60% of the utility’s generation capacity comes from natural gas, 30% from coal, and 10% from renewable sources. This data also incorporates OG&E’s power purchases, which account for 58% of OG&E’s total generation portfolio. OG&E purchases this power from other producers in the Southwest Power Pool (SPP). As a member of SPP, OG&E’s energy could come from any generation site within the regional transmission organization (RTO) at any given time. SPP’s generation mix in 2022 consisted of 37.5% wind, 33.3% coal, 20.9% natural gas, and 8.3% of energy produced from other sources. This data mirrors SPP’s generation mixes from 2020 and 2021. In 2020, SPP produced 31.3% of its power from wind, 30.9% from coal, and 26.6% from natural gas. In 2021, 35.6% of SPP’s power came from coal, 34.6% from wind, and 20% from natural gas. Instead of generating its own power, OEC operates an electricity distribution business. OEC purchases its power from the Western Farmers Electric Cooperative (WFEC), a generation and transmission provider. WFEC possesses a diverse fuel mix, generating 30% of its power from renewable sources and 11% from coal and natural gas. Additionally, WFEC imports 42% of its electricity from SPP. Power purchased from the Grand River Dam Authority, Oneta Power Plant, and Southwestern Public Service provided the final 17% of WFEC’s generation mix in 2022. The complexity of power generation networks, exemplified by OG&E and OEC, makes it difficult to determine Norman’s exact energy landscape based on public data alone. Future applications of this framework may run into similar challenges due to public data limitations. OG&E’s and OEC’s connections to SPP mean that consumers in Norman could theoretically receive energy from anywhere in SPP at any given time. However, some consumers have a limited degree of choice in deciding where their electricity comes from. OG&E customers can opt-in to receiving power from the utility’s solar farms, while OEC allows its customers to purchase renewable energy certificates that support renewable generation. These programs are naturally limited in scope, and data regarding the number of customers choosing to participate in these initiatives is not currently available. While I cannot accurately provide a detailed picture of Norman’s electricity provision, I can use SPP generation data to construct general assumptions. As mentioned previously, the largest share of SPP’s electricity production came from wind power, indicating that Norman could theoretically receive a notable amount of our electricity from that source. This assertion can be extrapolated to other cities within SPP’s 14-state service territory, assuming that a city’s serving utility maintains membership in SPP and that SPP’s generation portfolio remains consistent across states. This second assumption, however, cannot be verified by publicly-available SPP data; as such, the statement remains largely speculative. Decarbonizing the electricity sector requires a combination of multiple technologies. Regardless of the combination, however, a net-zero transition necessitates either elimination or removal of the emissions from coal and natural gas power plants that supplied over 50% of SPP’s generation in 2022. Power plant emissions can be reduced through a replacement of generation fuels—in this case, via renewable energy—or a deployment of smokestack emissions-reduction technologies. Emissions that cannot be addressed through the replacement of generation fuels or other reduction technologies must be removed through carbon capture. The costs of these options are explored in depth in the “Technological Feasibility” section of this paper. An assessment of Norman’s current transportation sector consists of analyzing both private and public transportation. Oklahoman workers display a strong dependence on private forms of transit, with 77.8% driving alone to work in 2022. In comparison, 68.7% of U.S. residents display a similar commuting pattern. Furthermore, 9.4% of Oklahomans carpool and 0.3% use public transportation to get to work. Nationally, 3.1% of people use public transit and 8.6% carpool. Evidently, passenger vehicles predominate Oklahomans’ commutes. These vehicles are overwhelmingly gasoline-powered. Though data specific to cars owned by Normanites is not available, of the 4,287,900 total vehicles registered in Oklahoma, 83% are powered by gasoline. 0.5% of cars registered in the state are fully electric, while 0.8% are plug-in hybrid electric and 1.3% are hybrid electric. These trends reflect larger national patterns, as 85% of vehicles registered in the United States are gasoline-powered, while 1.2% are fully electric. Norman’s public transportation consists of five fixed bus routes, operated by EMBARK Norman, which serve local destinations six days a week. EMBARK Norman also partners with EMBARK OKC to provide weekday commuter service to Oklahoma City. Intracity service is free and the commuter route to Oklahoma City costs $3 per adult and $1.50 for qualifying riders. Buses are scheduled at least every hour on four out of the five routes. The Norman fixed-route fleet consists of 10 compressed natural gas (CNG) buses, 2 electric buses, and 1 diesel-powered vehicle. The paratransit fleet uses 9 CNG buses, 2 diesel buses, and 3 gasoline-powered shuttles. Additionally, the University of Oklahoma possesses four bus routes on its campus. Norman also has an Amtrak station, with service ending in Oklahoma City. In this study, I also include biking as a form of public transportation. In 2022, only 0.2% of Oklahomans biked to work. Given that much of Oklahoma lacks biking infrastructure, this finding is unsurprising. Current data on the number and type of bike lanes within Norman is not readily available. However, given Norman’s possession of bike-friendly infrastructure, we may safely assume that Norman’s commuter biking statistics are higher than the Oklahoma average. III. Technological Feasibility The exploration of Norman’s electricity and transportation sectors reveals the community’s overwhelming dependence on fossil fuels. In this section, I use estimated costs of different clean energy technologies as a metric for assessing the technological feasibility of a net-zero transition in Norman. My study of electricity-related feasibility primarily concerns the costs associated with increasing the share of low-carbon energy sources in power generation, incorporating power storage methods, and abating residual emissions. In the transportation sector, I consider different scenarios in which the City of Norman improves public transportation. I do not focus on action taken by individual Normanites (commonly termed “reductions in demand”), as such action falls outside the scope of the analysis I hope to provide. Evaluating the technological feasibility of a power-sector transition in Norman begins with an understanding of the costs associated with alternative energies. The levelized cost of energy (LCOE) “combines technology cost and performance parameters, capital expenditures, operations and maintenance costs, and capacity factors” into a statistic that helps researchers, government agencies, and private companies predict the costliness of different forms of energy per MWh generated. The LCOEs for various sources of energy in Cleveland County—where Norman is located—in 2023 dollars are reported in Table 1. Table 1: Data from NREL (2020); Lewis et al. (2022); IEA (2020). All costs—including cost projections—are in 2023 dollars, with inflation adjustment calculations made based on OECD (2024) data. County-level costs for key renewable energy technologies like solar and wind are expected to experience significant declines by 2050, while the costs of traditional fossil fuel generation facilities are expected to increase. Across the board, the median costs associated with renewable sources of energy in Cleveland County are expected to drop by 2050. Gas-induced power plants, on the other hand, are expected to experience cost increases, regardless of whether these plants incorporate carbon capture and storage (CCS) techniques into plant practices. Unlike gas-powered plants, however, coal is expected to experience cost declines, but will likely remain more expensive than solar, wind, nuclear, or even gas-powered generation. This insight is significant, as coal generation produces more emissions than natural gas and renewable resource generation. Since the county-level statistics parallel the patterns observed in state-level analysis (not pictured), I observe that the comparatively-high costs will likely discourage the use of coal within Oklahoma, reducing the state’s emissions. Decreases in renewable energy costs for Cleveland County, depicted in Table 1, indicate that our electricity sector may feasibly transition to renewable energy. However, the data provided for county-level costs by the National Renewable Energy Laboratory (NREL) neglects to mention an increasingly-popular form of alternative energy: hydrogen power. The fuel is expected to play a critical role in decarbonizing personal transportation. Currently, steam methane reforming (SMR), a process dependent on fossil fuels, dominates hydrogen production in the United States. The implementation of CCS with SMR practices is expected to increase the LCOE of hydrogen production, but still maintains the “highest potential for low-cost clean hydrogen supply.” Transitioning to sources like wind and solar also requires measures to manage their intermittent nature. Lithium-ion batteries (LIBs) are touted as the solution to the need for power storage. NREL reports that costs of utility-scale LIBs within Cleveland County will decrease approximately 53% by 2050, making the reality of incorporating this technology into a transitioned power grid increasingly plausible. This assertion is further supported by the declining prices of renewable power sources, allowing greater amounts of capital to be allocated to power storage instead of generation. Addressing residual emissions—those that cannot be easily reduced through the previously-discussed strategies—necessitates the usage of carbon capture technologies. Carbon capture and storage (CCS) involves removing carbon dioxide at its emission source. NREL already provides a Cleveland County LCOE for CCS in the context of natural gas generation, placing the 2020 LCOE at $60.06 and expecting a $68.3 LCOE by 2050. Global estimates from the International Energy Agency (IEA) further contextualize this data. Globally, the LCOE for CCS ranges from 17.87-143.02 USD per ton of carbon dioxide captured. Direct air capture (DAC), another emissions-reduction technology, captures carbon dioxide after its release into the atmosphere. The technology generally costs more than CCS, with global LCOE estimates ranging from 160.9-411.19 USD per ton captured. NREL’s forecasted costs to 2050 are helpful in evaluating the feasibility of a net-zero power sector transition. Such forecasting, however, remains difficult to find for transportation improvements. Instead, I rely on the costs associated with different public transit improvement scenarios that Norman explored in fiscal year 2023 (FY23). Table 2: Data from City of Norman (2021); City of Norman (2022); City of Norman (2024); Taylor Johnson at the City of Norman; Lazo (2023); Feigenbaum (2023). All costs are adjusted to 2023 dollars using data from OECD (2024). In 2021, the Norman City Council approved the Go Norman Transit Plan, a document detailing different transportation improvements anticipated for Norman’s bus system. Adding an additional bus route, Route 113, requires nearly $9 million in capital and operational investments. Increasing route frequency for two of the current bus routes entails expenditures of between $8.21-$8.91 million, depending on route length and the number of buses needed to achieve frequency improvements. Improving the frequency of Route 111 stops from a 30-minute to the ideal 15-minute frequency necessitates $11.55 million from the City. These frequency improvements are intended to make public transit options competitive with the convenience and consistency offered by single-passenger vehicular transport. Expanding route service often demands adding additional buses to the City’s fleet. To gather information on the historical costs of purchasing CNG and electric buses, I contacted Taylor Johnson, the Transit and Parking Program Manager for the City of Norman. Mr. Johnson offered information on the current fixed-route fleet and the previous costs of purchasing individual electric and CNG buses. One fixed-route CNG bus cost the City $639,741.79 in 2023 dollars, whereas an electric bus cost over $1 million in the same year. The cost estimates specific to certain route improvements cannot accurately predict the expected future costs of similar improvements. However, this information still provides an important overview of what such improvements may entail. Regardless of future inflation or specified costs associated with different projects, improvements to Norman’s bus system will cost millions of dollars to implement. As mentioned in the “Norman Now: Our Energy Today” section, Norman possesses one Amtrak station with service to Oklahoma City. Finding a cost estimate for adding additional rail lines or increasing train speed in Oklahoma is not currently feasible; therefore, I turned to two case studies of these improvements in other areas. Amtrak anticipates increasing the speed of the Washington-to-Boston route with new trains. This project, originally proposed in 2011, costs $3.11 billion in 2023 dollars. The proposed Dallas-to-Houston Amtrak project, involving the development of completely-new rail lines, costs a whopping $33.6 billion in 2023 dollars. Support for the development of additional Amtrak lines through Norman would need to occur at the state level; after all, as the two currently-proposed projects demonstrate, Amtrak projects are extremely expensive and involve multiple municipalities. While it is unlikely that Amtrak will expand coverage in Oklahoma in the near future–given the minimal demand for such infrastructure–this discussion still offers important context for comprehensive public transit considerations in the state. Bike infrastructure serves as the final area of analysis within the public transportation sector. For this exploration, I use data from an Association of Central Oklahoma Governments grant received by the City for air quality improvements. Adding two bike lanes cost the City $11,497.99 in total. Details on the length and cost of each individual bike lane were not provided by the City. Table 3: Data from City of Norman (2021); City of Norman (2022); City of Norman (2023); City of Norman (2024). *The “Actual Public Transit Expenditures” for FY24 have yet to be released; accordingly, I provided the City’s current estimate. During FY23, the City of Norman proposed and passed a $225,785,971 budget. As exemplified in Table 2, the costs of transportation improvements under Norman’s control ranged from 0.01% of the budget to 5.1% of the budget. Given the trends in public transit spending observed in Table 3, the budget typically allows enough flexibility for only one of the transit improvements detailed in Table 2 to occur. This finding suggests that substantial improvements to Norman’s public transit system will likely occur slowly, unless the City’s spending patterns change. The technology exists to support a net-zero energy transition. The challenge, then, comes with the cost of such technologies. As the NREL forecast predicts, renewable energy sources will likely continue to decline in cost, encouraging utilities to adopt these forms of energy for power generation. Additionally, both long-term energy storage solutions and residual emissions reduction technologies are anticipated to experience declining costs. Norman’s electricity sector, therefore, could realistically experience a clean energy transition in the coming decades, contingent on utility adoption of necessary technologies. The feasibility of adjustments to Norman’s transportation sector proves incredibly difficult to predict due to the challenge of obtaining cost forecasting data. Regardless of this limitation, the scenarios explored demonstrate realistic costs for the City, although the pace at which such projects are pursued may be slower than desired. IV. Political Feasibility In this study, political feasibility is more challenging to quantify and anticipate than technological feasibility. By its very nature, public opinion is dynamic, and the individuals surveyed often possess opinions that do not fit cleanly into prescribed party affiliations or expectations. Furthermore, creating an accurate measure of political support for an energy transition proves difficult, considering the complexity of interacting components in such a transition. Given these constraints, I focus this section on a broad investigation of the views on renewable energy development that are associated with national and statewide partisan identifications while acknowledging the complexity of these affiliations. I also highlight studies specific to Oklahoma that offer valuable insights into the nuances of support for a carbon-neutral energy transition. According to the Pew Research Center, 31% of Americans currently support the complete phasing out of fossil fuels across the United States, compared to the 68% that support the use of a fossil fuel and renewables mixture. This belief does not necessarily conflict with the net-zero transition proposal, as carbon capture techniques could theoretically support the strictly-limited use of fossil fuels. Regarding renewable energy development, 74% of Americans highlight this type of development as “the most important energy priority for the U.S.” when compared to “expanding [the] production of fossil fuels.” Evidently, national support for a net-zero future depends on the specific limitations of that energy transition. Attempting to break down support for the transition by political party causes further difficulties, as the opinions of both Democrats and Republicans do not always follow expectations. For example, 58% of Republicans and Republican-leaning Independents believe that fossil fuel expansion should operate as the U.S.’s top energy priority, but 70% of this group still support the development of more solar farms. 90% of Democrats and Democratic-leaning Independents give renewable energy priority over fossil fuels, but 51% “oppose phasing out fossil fuels completely” for right now. The responses to these questions do not clearly indicate partisan support for a net-zero future. For additional clarity, Kennedy et al. asked respondents about their opinions regarding the complete phase-out of fossil fuels. 87% of Republicans and Republican-leaning respondents reported a belief in the need to use a mix of fossil fuels and renewables in the near-term, while 51% of Democrats and Democrat-leaning respondents reported the same. Understanding national party positioning on the phase-out of fossil fuels, a component of net-zero energy transitions, contextualizes an analysis of Oklahoma’s current partisan makeup. As of January 15th, 2024, approximately 52% of Oklahoman voters are registered with the Republican party, while 28% are registered Democrats and 19% are registered Independents. However, these affiliations do not directly indicate voters’ position on energy transitions. Generally, 57% of American Republicans believe the U.S. should never stop using fossil fuels, a viewpoint likely shared by many Oklahoma Republicans given the historical importance of the fossil fuel sector within the state. Republican State Representatives and Senators also dominate our legislature. Only 20% of seats in the Oklahoma House and 16% of seats in the Senate belong to Democrats. The prevalence of the Republican party, when considered in the context of national survey data, indicates that political support for renewable energy development at the state level is likely low. The Institute for Public Policy Research and Analysis (IPPRA), based at the University of Oklahoma, surveyed 3,564 Oklahoma residents to gather “advice and guidance on how to develop socially sustainable solutions to water, carbon, and infrastructure problems in Oklahoma." This study revealed that 92% of the Democrats surveyed believe that greenhouse gas emissions are causing average global temperatures to rise, compared to the 38% of Oklahoma Republicans believing the same. Additionally, only 28% of Republicans surveyed believe that global warming has resulted in changes to Oklahoma’s weather patterns. In the context of Republican domination in the Oklahoma House and Senate, these findings further indicate that political support for measures addressing GHG emissions and climate change is likely minimal. Within Cleveland County, 47% of registered voters identify as Republicans, 30% identify as Democrats, and 22% identify as Independents (Cleveland County Election Board 2024). This data does not reveal Norman’s specific situation, as it includes registered voters throughout the entire county. Under such circumstances, I choose instead to refer to the state-level data described in the preceding paragraph. Using the data available to me, I provided an initial assessment of the political climate in Oklahoma. In doing so, I offer a broad overview of the expected political feasibility regarding a net-zero energy transition. My analysis of the state-level situation, contextualized in the presence of national polling data, indicates that support for the phase-out of fossil fuels in Oklahoma likely remains low. These findings cannot be directly applied to Norman’s specific local context. Further public opinion research should be conducted to determine the opinions of Normanites and their City Council members on the topic. Given the challenges in conducting this political analysis for Norman, similar obstacles may appear when applying this model to other municipalities. V. Conclusion Throughout this study, I offered and explored the applications of a particular model for analyzing the feasibility of localized energy transitions in the United States. Here, I will summarize the model and discuss the implications of both the framework and the case study I used to evaluate the framework. I derived the model of analysis employed throughout this study from observations of both U.S. emissions data and literature concerning energy transitions. I wanted to ensure that a localized energy transition focused on the sectors with the largest greenhouse gas emissions in the U.S.; thus, I chose to focus on the electricity and transportation sectors. This selection was reaffirmed within the literature, as explored in “Outlining the Energy Transition: Definitions and Criteria.” The next level of my analysis focused on evaluating the technological and political feasibility of transitioning each sector. I separated the discussion of technological feasibility by sector and highlighted the costs associated with clean energy developments accordingly. In the political feasibility section of my analysis, I largely focused on generalized public opinion data surrounding an energy transition due to the limited availability of data related to electricity and transportation decarbonization specifically. I articulated this framework of analysis through my case study of Norman, Oklahoma. The assessment of technological feasibility generally reflects declining costs in renewable technologies across Cleveland County, the United States, and the world. These declining costs appear to indicate that decarbonization in Norman is feasible. Given Oklahoma’s geographical conditions and expected cost declines, solar and wind energy could drive a transition away from fossil fuel dominance. Declining costs of utility-scale batteries will help mitigate the intermittent nature of these two sources. Additionally, nuclear energy possesses significant promise in helping Norman to achieve net-zero, especially given the apparent political support for nuclear energy within the state legislature. During the 59th regular session of the Oklahoma legislature, both the House and Senate passed Senate Bill 1535, which amended the Oklahoma Low Carbon Energy Initiative to include nuclear energy. The support for this legislation, however, does not mean that the legislature or the Public Utilities Commission will prioritize clean energy over fossil fuel interests in the future. Thus, predicting an energy transition in Norman remains exceedingly difficult. With regards to transportation, the City possesses the ability to fund both bike lane and bus route improvements, as costs for these advances ranged between 0.01-5.1% of the City’s 2023 budget. These costs are in line with the total amount of actual public transit expenditures made by the City in prior years. Improving and adding regional high-speed rail lines, however, proves increasingly expensive and is outside of the City’s regulatory purview. Accordingly, the City can realistically pursue localized public transit improvements over the next couple of years, ideally leading to decreased dependency on personal automobiles within Norman. The political preferences of Oklahomans possess a strong bearing on the overall feasibility of pursuing net-zero energy transitions. Republican domination in both the Oklahoma House and Senate indicates that statewide measures supporting energy transitions remain unlikely, especially given the general Republican stance on climate change and renewable energy versus fossil fuels. Data for Norman specifically cannot be found; accordingly, future research can focus on evaluating public opinion within the municipality. The difficulties present in ascertaining the feasibility of an energy transition in Norman reflect the limitations of the model I developed. First, this model does not cover all components of a municipality’s energy sector, leading to inconclusive predictions regarding the feasibility of total localized decarbonization. Second, the model relies on forecasting cost data, which is generated via a naturally uncertain practice. Third, the limited availability of publicly-accessible data—the backbone of this framework and my observations in Norman—weakens the conclusivity of assertions made using the application of the model to a given local context. This third component can be addressed in future uses of the model by obtaining access to private company and government data. Future applications of a similar framework possess ample opportunity for improving and innovating based on the foundation provided in this research. Regardless of its limitations, this model possesses significant implications for planning processes and improvements within my local community. Local strategic energy plans, which often possess decarbonization as a primary objective, rely on the type of in-depth analysis conducted throughout this report to accurately ascertain the current realities and future possibilities of local energy systems. Communities can use the model explored here as a guide in strategic energy plan development. Within Norman specifically, this paper provides critical analysis absent from the City’s long-term planning processes and suggests the need to develop some type of energy plan within the municipality. Climate change threatens all of humanity, regardless of one’s proximity to a coastline or dry zone. Addressing this crisis and preventing its exacerbation entails decarbonization across our energy systems. Throughout this study, I explored a framework to assess local energy transition feasibility and applied it to my local community. In doing so, I hope to encourage greater localized action in Norman and in the United States at large. 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Journal Features Online Features & Interviews Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Steven Pinker Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Paul Krugman Vol. II | Issue II JPPE Interview Yanis Varoufakis Vol. II | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue II Vol. II | Issue I Sheldon Whitehouse United States Senator from Rhode Island Vol. II | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. II | Issue I Vol. I | Issue II Nicola Sturgeon First Minister of Scotland Vol. I | Issue II John R. Allen President of the Brookings Institution Vol. I | Issue II Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue II Vol. I | Issue I Jorge O. Elorza Mayor of Providence, Rhode Island Vol. I | Issue I Greg Fischer Mayor of Louisville, Kentucky Vol. I | Issue I Foreword Editorial Board Vol. I | Issue I

*Feature* Nicola Sturgeon Nicola Sturgeon is the fifth and current First Minister of Scotland and leader of the Scottish National Party (SNP). She is the first woman to hold either position and has been a member of the Scottish Parliament since 1999. She advocated that Britain remain in the European Union and has called for Scotland's place in the European single market to be protected. Sturgeon is notable as a campaigner for women's rights and gender equality. Sturgeon’s piece reflects on the merits of experimenting with a Universal Basic Income Fall 2018 Too many people in Scotland are being failed by the UK Government’s social security and employment support systems and we have seen rising poverty levels in recent years. Finding employment is sadly no longer the protection against poverty it once was, with in-work poverty now at an all-time high and the majority of adults and children in relative poverty living in households where someone is in paid work. Likewise, income and wealth inequality in Scotland and the UK, although it has been relatively stable for the last 20 years, has shown no sign of reducing. While there is no quick fix for wealth inequality, there are steps that governments can and should take to close the gap between the richest and poorest in society. We know sustainable and fair work is a long-term route out of poverty so we, and other administrations, must be committed to creating opportunities that support this. In Scotland, we have stressed the importance of promoting inclusive growth – growth which everyone has a fair chance to contribute to, and from which everyone in society can benefit. There are moral, economic and political reasons to support this. Our Economic Strategy focuses on the two mutually supportive goals of increasing competitiveness and tackling inequality. There are a wide range of factors that cause income inequality and these must all be addressed to effectively tackle the issue. In Scotland we have committed to reduce the gender pay gap and increase the labour market participation rates for disabled people and those from minority ethnic groups. New UK legislation which requires large listed companies to publish the pay ratios between their chief executive and their average worker, as well as their gender pay gap, will help maintain focus on such inequalities. While this is a step in the right direction, we would like this legislation to go further and require companies to publish what actions they will take to address such pay gaps. Both governments and businesses also need to address structures and cultures in workplaces that can perpetuate income inequality. Changing the perception of ‘valued’ jobs is one step to reducing such inequalities. For example caring jobs such as social care and childcare tend to be lower paid and undertaken in the main by women. It is argued that that the undervaluing of skills required to undertake caring jobs contributes to the low pay which characterises these and other low paid sectors. We are using the Living Wage Scotland initiative to highlight the value of workers in low paid sectors and encourage more employers to become Accredited Living Wage employers. In addition to taking steps to reduce income inequality, we also want to deliver a new Scottish social security system with dignity, fairness and respect at its centre to better meet the needs of the people of Scotland. We are already taking steps to improve the benefits being devolved to Scotland by increasing carer’s allowance, introducing the Best Start Grant for parents and carers on low incomes to help at key stages of children’s lives and transforming the disability assessment process. As well as the existing historic factors that can lead to wealth inequality, advances in technology and increasing automation of services means the world of work is constantly changing. That is why innovative ideas to tackle these new challenges should be debated by both current and future leaders. One such radical approach to social security which has gained attention recently is the idea of a universal basic income (UBI) – a universal, non-taxable, non-means tested payment made to all citizens from cradle to grave. It is paid regardless of past national insurance contributions, income, wealth or marital status. While a simple concept in principle, its implementation is highly complex. One of the main complexities of UBI is determining the level at which it is set – ranging from a minimum payment to prevent destitution to a higher level which on its own gives individuals an adequate but basic standard of living. It is usually assumed that UBI replaces all other social security payments and this is reflected in one of the most profound concerns around UBI – the impact it could have on people in poverty and people facing additional costs in their day to day life. As a universal benefit, it removes the stigma of ‘being on benefits’. That can only be good for society but there are concerns about whether governments will be able to afford both UBI and a generous welfare state. In Scotland, we already provide many universal benefits such as free school meals, personal care, prescriptions, eye tests and university tuition and the respective role of UBI and these benefits would have to be considered. Supporters of UBI suggest it provides a greater incentive for those out of work to take up employment and can encourage people to be more entrepreneurial as they already have a basic income to support them. Most models of UBI suggest that anything over the UBI value is taxed at a single rate. However, this does not align with our more progressive approach to income tax in Scotland where those who can afford to pay more will make a higher contribution through increasing tax rates to support better public services. The Scottish Government is supporting four local areas to carry out further scoping of the idea in Scotland. These pilots will help inform our thinking around the future of UBI in Scotland and I look forward to seeing the results. We want Scotland to be prosperous and reducing inequality is a key part of this. We believe we should tackle poverty and wealth disparities by sharing opportunities, wealth and power more equally.

Author Name < Back Interview with Geoff Mulgan Catherine Nelli JPPE: Great. So, we'll start off speaking about your new book, Another World Is Possible: How to Reignite Social and Political Imagination . Could you explain what political imagination and radical political imagination are before speaking about what the book is about, your argument, and your process researching and writing it? Mulgan: So I became more and more concerned in the last few years that we might have a worsening problem of political imagination. And there were various signs of this, there was a kind of obvious one which the many activists, the many people who are politically enthusiastic can very easily see into the future, how things could go horribly wrong, could see ecological disaster, climate catastrophe, and so on. Which in many ways is a good thing, but very much harder to imagine or describe almost any kind of social progress, what would be a significantly better way of organizing welfare, or democracy, or health, or education. I observed that we have a huge capacity now for technological imagination. Vast sums of money spent on think tanks and conferences, looking at smart homes or smart cities or AI and so on, but almost nothing comparable in terms of serious work thinking about how our future society or economy could be run, rather than just the hardware. Politics—it's very striking. On the one hand, how many leaders now talk about going back to make America great again, or France or Britain or China or India. The last US election was a contest between two old men who haven’t really said very much about where they would want the world to be in a generation or two from now. I have increasingly felt that this sort of failure of imagination was fueling in a very subtle way a sort of fatalism—a sense that actually the world won't get better. Just as in our own individual lives, if we can't see something good on the horizon, something which might be better for us a year, five years down the line, it's quite hard to be happy and thriving. I think there's something equivalent for societies and the whole world. What I did in the book is partly researching the past of social and political imagination. And there'll be many ways in which people tried to look ahead; they did it through writing utopias, and there are hundreds, if not 1000s, of utopian writings from feminist utopias of the 15th century through to the great 19th century ones, like Bella , which was, I think, at the time the second best selling author ever in the US. There were attempts to create model communities, model towns, model organizations. There's the role of generative ideas. And one of the things I point out in the book is that often quite generic ideas like human rights or a circular economy may be a bit vague at first, but they then spawn lots of other ideas which become useful and change the world. And a large part of the book is about methods: what are the methods we could be using now to get better at thoughtful, rigorous imagination of the future a generation or two from now? How do you use methods, often from creativity and design, to expand your menu of options, you can then interrogate each of those, many of them might not be attractive, but at least to cultivate the habit towards the muscle of thinking creatively ahead. I look at the role of universities in that, I look at the role of political parties, which at times in history have played a big role in imagination, but have largely vacated it in much of the world. And also the role of places—how to create museums, galleries, physical places where people can come together to imagine into the future. And if nothing else, I hope the book will spark at least a bit of a debate on the question: Do we have a problem? Maybe some people will say we don't have a problem. Some people may say, well, actually, imagination is always bad, it leads to terrible results, and many of the blueprints in the last century, and many of the utopias did have horrible results. And one of the arguments I make is that now, we need to combine imagination with experiments. So you don't impose a fully formed blueprint on a city or a society; you try it out in a much more organic, experimental way. And others may say actually, technology is the answer to everything and we don't have social imagination because we don't need it. We can fix everything with a new anti-aging drug or some fantastic ecology, which will sequester carbon and so on. As I say, I think all of those will be wrong, but at least hopefully that will get a debate going. JPPE Do you look at a sort of comparative analysis of case studies from different countries? Or is the structure of the book more idea based? Mulgan It’s ideas. Basically, there were lots of references to real examples, either from history or from the present. And one of the parts of the book which is a bit more like comparative political analysis is trying to compare the dominant political imaginaries of the next 20 or 30 years globally. What are they? And I argue probably the most powerful ones or the strongest ones are nationalist techno authoritarian ones, particularly China, Xi Jinping thought, but in a different way the BJP’s to visions of the future in India. Putin doesn't really have one in Russia. But he and Erdoğan are other examples. And I argue that this is a very powerful semi-imaginary which actually is rather vague about the future but tries to tie together, in some ways, quite traditional authoritarian nationalism with high technologies. It's very 19th century Prussian militarism. I look at different imaginaries of the Green Movement and some of the frictions and issues in deep and less deep ecological thought. I look at what might happen to liberalism, a revived neoliberalism, and different strands of conservatism. But essentially, that is an attempt at a comparative analysis of both current and future imaginaries. JPPE Do you think digital technologies detract from or contribute to radical political imaginations? What are the different ways that they could contribute or detract? And in what way should they be conceptualized and used to the benefit of imagination? Mulgan So I've got quite a background in digital technology—my PhD is in telecoms and I've probably been immersed in all these things. And my answer is essentially “both and.” So sometimes thinking about things digitally can be very useful because as happened to retailing, or banking, or relationships, all sorts of things, if you look at it through a digital lens, you often deconstruct what's going on. And then you can remake it in a completely different way. So you end up with Amazon, not with, you know, high street shops or with match.com rather than people meeting in bars. And in that sense, actually, digital technology is quite useful for social imagination. And any imagination of where democracy might be in 50 years time has to have a substantial digital element. And those places like Taiwan and Iceland are reinventing democracy. The US still seems to be stuck in an 18th century model of democracy. We don't quite understand why, but that's another story. Digital is part of that, but if you only think in a digital way, as so much of the movement around smart cities, smart data, and smart homes did, you usually end up with results which are not very pleasant for humans to live in or which lose all sorts of dimensions of the present. And I think this was a big failure of the internet, where there was some incredibly naive techno optimism about how on its own the internet would spread democracy, equality, removal, corporations, etc. And often the exact opposite happened. And that tells us there was a major intellectual failure amongst the sort of Silicon Valley thinkers who simply didn't understand what they were part of. And that's why thinking simultaneously with a social lens and a technological lens is vital for the next 50 or 100 years. JPPE What’s the difference between social and political imagination? How do they coincide and interact? Mulgan I think they overlap with each other. There isn't a straightforward boundary line. By politics we tend to mean the things which politicians end up talking about put into their programs, maybe pass laws about in Congress or Parliament or the Bundestag. And that is the world of politics, which often does include or has at times included powerful visions of where society might head. There are many examples of where that happens outside politics much more through social movements and daily life. And people are getting on with social innovation and were ignoring the political realm. And often things start off social and then become political, so many ecological ideas, like the idea of a circular economy and radical recycling or veganism, you know, these tended to begin very much with social movements, and much, much later, became politicized, became an issue for laws and elections and programs and carbon taxes and so on. So one of the things I try to look at in the book is this dynamic between the social and the political, and then back into the social. For example, when you pass new laws on equality they in turn then affect the norms within every organization, ultimately, maybe back to the household and the family too. JPPE You speak about the tapering off of visions of the future. There seems to be a desire for change within the social world but very few productive outlets to channel this desire. How do you foresee this changing over time and how would you wish it to change to spark future action? Mulgan I think one answer to that lies with institutions and what role they play, especially powerful institutions can either encourage this sort of work or discourage it. So take universities. I've been doing a parallel strand of work, looking at why it is that in universities, and particularly in social science, the sort of exploratory design work, thinking ahead work, has largely disappeared from most universities all over the world. It's disappeared partly for good reasons, as people have become more data driven and more empirical, and partly because a lot of the radicals moved into a safe space of critique, rather than proposal. That was one of the weird things which happened to Marxism in universities in the last 20 or 40 years. It moved out of real active politics into academic critique. And founders haven't rewarded it because they've tended to reward deepening work within disciplines, whereas exploratory creative work has spread across multiple disciplines. And in a paper I published last year in Germany, I tried to set out in more detail what a probe of exploratory social sciences would be; what it would look like for the universities to have significant interdisciplinary teams working on the design options of a zero carbon economy or a radically transformed mental health system. And that's what I hope universities could do. At the moment they have almost no role in this and it’s incredible in a way. There's so much brain power in universities, and they don't play an active role. JPPE What would it take for them to do that? Mulgan Leadership. Money. You have to have a debate, you have to believe there's a problem. People at universities acknowledge there is a problem needing to be solved. So one of my purposes is at least a debate about that. And then political parties. I mean, the political parties in much the world have rather atrophied, hollowed out, hardened. And often it's the new political parties who are more creative than the old ones, which dominate your country and my country and some others. But if you were inventing a political party now, it would probably have much more of its core purpose being to organize a dialogue with the public about options for the future, about ideas. Instead, they tend to be captured by interest groups. They just work on winning elections or their money goes into election fighting rather than thinking. They’ve lost the capability of having broad open dialogues as opposed to campaigning, and so on. And it's interesting. Some of the newer parties have experimented with much more interesting methods of social dialogue like the Five Star Movement in Italy, Podemos in Spain, and there are quite a few others. I wouldn't say they've got there. But a political party which aspires to run a country should be owning part of this conversation about the options for the future. I think cities can do it. Good mayors often do have the resources to bring the whole of a city into a discussion about its physical future. So for example, just now we've just finished a really interesting session with a group of cities. A project I coordinate looks at what can be done over the next five or 10 years for cities to really prioritize population level mental health. And that's something which, you know, much of the public thinks is kind of obvious, that they should be doing that. And yet, politics lags far behind and nearly all the money is still in physical health, and hospitals and things like that. And very few political parties would feel comfortable actually even talking about mental health as a priority. They’re stuck in an anachronistic way of seeing the world. JPPE When did you first become invested in the power of political imagination and creative imagination? And how did you first identify the lack of the imagination that you see now? Mulgan I don't know, I suppose in different ways I’d probably be part of this. I've had a career which has partly been working in governments top-down, and I was part of some quite good exercises of political leaders trying to spark this. So Tony Blair, who has both strengths and weaknesses, but did at various times try to encourage big public conversations about the future and future priorities. I worked for an Australian Prime Minister, Kevin Rudd, who did a huge exercise, getting the whole country thinking 15, 20 years ahead on climate change and pensions and water, and then bringing 1000 people into parliament to talk about the results. So I have seen how good leaders can do this from the top down. And from the bottom up, lots of grassroots organizations, social innovation projects, I've automatically tried to think radically about the future. But I guess since the financial crisis in particular, I think horizons have shrunk right in amongst leaders, but also amongst NGOs, social movement organizations, they'd be more in case of trying to survive. And that's happened alongside this growing sense of imminent ecological catastrophe. And these have all contributed to squeezing out the capacity to imagine radically. JPPE So does it require different methods of funding so they can move past survival mode? Mulgan I think there's certainly a big role for philanthropy. Your country has enormous amounts of spare money in philanthropy, but almost none of it goes into this. There are some good reasons for that, obviously, philanthropy tends to come from the beneficiaries of the old system, so they're never likely to be very radical in challenging it. I still think a little bit more effort on the part of the Fords and Rockefellers and Hewletts would have paid off because this isn't very expensive. But who else is going to create the space for people to think, to look ahead, to range a bit more widely? And I’ve spent most of my life on much more short term practical, pragmatic problem solving. But we all need some sense of the bigger picture, what that's leading towards, to help make sense of the actions in the present. And that's what's missing. And I would say in the US, politics, philanthropy, and higher education have all essentially failed their societal role in that respect. JPPE So as you said, it requires opening the debate so that people know that there's a problem. What are the steps after that? Mulgan Well then I think it's about organizing and funding and orchestrating the more detailed work, which needs to be done. And I do use the analogy with art or film or writing. Everyone can take part in it a little bit. We can all make our movies on Tiktok and so on. But actually, if you want really good films, it's actually quite hard, it's quite skilled, it's quite professional. It requires quite a lot of people. Or for a good Netflix TV series. And it’s the same for social imagination. You can start off with sparks and some of it can be very open and participatory. But if you are going to do a detailed thinking through how to regulate or organize a netzero economy that requires a highly specialized knowledge, interrogation, and argument, and so on. That's what universities should be doing. I work with a lot of governments around the world, you know, 10 to 15 at any one point. And if they're looking at a new policy area, you sort of assume there must be off the shelf, lots of lots of options, which they could consider. Let's say a new kind of universal basic income is one, which I've been a bit involved in, and is much talked about in much of the world. And there are quite a lot of pilots now of UBIs, but the quality of the work of it is still very thin. And if you are a government wanting to introduce one, actually, you will have to do most of the work designing it, thinking through its impact. There is not a menu of options you can draw down. And the same is true with almost any field. Let's say bringing the circular economy principles to fashion or whatever, the legwork and hard labor has not been done to prepare the options for others to draw on. And this is also true at a global level. The UN was set up in the 1940s, benefitting from lots of hard work, which had been done imagining what a UN could be in the dark years of the 30s. I've been doing work recently on what could be new global governance arrangements, if conditions became more favorable. There's nothing out there in terms of well thought through options. There's lots of good description, lots of good analysis, lots of good critique of all that's wrong with the UN. But it's as if the people who are the experts feel too nervous to ever put their names to a proposal, which someone else might shoot down. So we have this sort of bizarre deficit of looking ahead, whereas in other fields, like in sciences, or the life sciences or AI, lots of people are paid to think speculatively to design possible new genomic treatments or new algorithms. And the imbalance between a world of science and tech, which was too good looking ahead, and the world of the social and the political, which has given up on it, I think it's really become a serious problem.

Kimberly Ramos Authenticating Authenticity: Authenticity as Commitment, Temporally Extended Agency, and Practical Identity Kimberly Ramos The everyday concept of authenticity presupposes the existence of an underlying, unchanging self to which to be authentic. However, with the rise of bundle theories in philosophy of mind and neuroscience, it is unlikely that we have an essence of self to which to be authentic. In this case, should we abandon the concept of authenticity entirely or formulate a new account of it? I argue that authenticity is still important to one’s everyday life, particularly when making difficult decisions about one’s identity in terms of morals, goals, and values. Rather than being true to an objective essence of self, I argue that we can be true to the self as a construct (a self-concept). We create this self-concept with consistency and steadfastness in our commitments, as well as our ability to be an agent that fulfills those commitments. Thus, authenticity and self- hood are more about undertaking important projects and a creative process of becoming rather than unearthing and expressing an essence of self. Just be yourself. Embrace your most authentic life. Or, if you like, “To thine own self be true.” We often encounter such pithy aphorisms. Some of us might find such advice to be helpful because it pushes us to pursue a career or life path that brings out the best version of ourselves. On the other hand, such advice could also induce anger because of its irrationality and emptiness. The self, as others of us might point out, is just a construct, so what is there to be “true” to? Or perhaps the whole concept of authenticity is simply confusing. We might agree that it is good to be authentic to one’s self but find it confusing as to what sort of identity this means for our own lives. We might, like philosopher Elisabeth Camp, pose this question: “What is my true self, such that I should pursue and cultivate it?” The everyday, common view of authenticity assumes that (1) we possess a “true” self, and (2) we ought to embrace this “true” self. But as more is learned about the mind and brain, it seems increasingly unlikely that a true, underlying self exists. Dr. Christian Jarrett, a writer for the British Psychological Society, mentions a study conducted by Strohminger et al. Strohminger and her colleagues observed that belief in an underlying “true” self is common across cultures, and inherent in this belief is the concept of authenticity. However, they are skeptical that this true self actually exists because such a self would be “radically subjective” (1). We see this sort of radical subjectivity in a study conducted by Quoidbach et al. The study found that people tend to underestimate the amount of change they will undergo in the future. They believe that their personality, core values, and preferences will be preserved over time, even though these attributes have already changed from the past to the present (2). The belief in the consistency of the self and its preferences is radically subjective in that it is based on feeling alone—it is not based on objective fact or essence. If at least some personality traits and values can and do change over the course of one’s life, then the common view of authenticity does not seem plausible. There is no true and essential self to which to be authentic because the self is not immune to change. An action which is authentic to me today might not be authentic to me in ten years. If this is the case, then how am I to decide what is most authentic: my past values, my current values, or my future values? In rejecting true and essential self, philosophers of mind, psychologists, and neuroscientists including Douglas Hoftstader, Thomas Metzinger, and Daniel Dennett have turned to bundle theories. David Hume, one of the first bundle theorists, expresses the general sentiment of bundle theories in viewing the self as a series of “bundled” perceptions that change from moment to moment (3). As such, bundle theorists declare there is no rational reason to believe in an enduring self over time. Under their view, a new self exists each moment. If no enduring and underlying self exists, then pursuing the everyday view of authenticity seems somewhat futile. Authenticity would only be possible to a given self at the singular moment it exists, which does not seem satisfying given that, from a practical standpoint, we view the self as a consistent entity, at least on a day-to-day basis. This paper is dedicated to redefining the way we commonly think about authenticity and the self. Is there even a “true” self to be authentic to? And why should we desire authenticity at all? Three Cases: Authenticity as a Common Concern Before discussing more of the practical reasons for desiring authenticity at length, I will begin with a few “real world” examples to illustrate authenticity as a common concern within one’s daily life. (a) Neryssa and Her Corporate Job : Neryssa dislikes her current job as a human resources manager at a large corporation that manufactures soda. Though she enjoys working with people, the corporation’s product and mission don’t align with her personal values. She desires a job that feels more representative of the person she takes herself to be, but she isn’t sure if her job should even matter in terms of her sense of identity and values. (b) Rowan and Their College Major : Rowan needs to decide between a major in English or in History. On the one hand, they love literary analysis, especially as it applies to the fantasy genre. On the other hand, they also enjoy detangling and reconstructing historical narratives. When they think about the job prospects of each, they find each option to be about equal. Rowan wants to pick the major that “fits” them best, but at this juncture, both choices seem equally well-fitting. Which should they choose? (c) Julia and Her State Senate Campaign : Julia is running for election to the state senate. Her platform emphasizes environmental consciousness, especially in contrast with her opposition, who takes donations from large corporations that con- tribute to the climate crisis. Julia’s team suggests that she run a slander ad that, while not conveying outright lies, strongly insinuates that the opposition is cheating on his partner. While the ad would help Julia win the election and implement environmentally sustainable legislature, Julia isn’t sure that she can condone the ad. She takes herself to be someone who “plays by the rules” and holds herself to high moral standards. What should she do? In each of these three examples, authenticity plays a role in the decision making process of the individual involved (4). In (a), Neryssa desires a job that feels more authentic to her person. A job which represents her values is important to Neryssa, and thus, authenticity is relevant to her creating a life she enjoys. In (b), Rowan wants to know which of two options is more authentic of them to choose. Like Neryssa, they want to make a choice that will lead to a fulfilled and enjoyable life. In (c), Julia must choose between becoming a state senator and her morals. An understanding of authenticity might help her decide between these two options. I would wager that we, like Neryssa, Rowan, and Julia, have come up against similarly difficult decisions that challenge who we take ourselves to be and leave us wondering what decision is most authentic. I would also wager that the simple advice “Just be yourself!”would not help much in the situations described above. The purpose of this paper, then, is to provide a novel account of authenticity that (1) takes into account the lack of an underlying “true” self in light of bundle theories, and (2) helps us confront difficult decisions in which one’s identity is in question. Ultimately, I will propose a commitment-based account of authenticity, in which the personated, socially-constructed self and the commitments it makes are the basis for determining authentic action. A “True” Self? A Foray Into Bundle Theories and a Postmodern Ac- count of Authenticity Discussions about the self often turn to psychology and the brain. Following John Locke and his discussion of substance in An Essay Concerning Human Understanding , the view of the self shifted from one of body or spirit to one of psychological substance, particularly consciousness (5). But, as philosopher David Hume later pointed out, the brain and its associated consciousness do not have a substance of self. In more modern terminology, this means that there is no lobe or neural center that constitutes an essence of self, which is an inherent entity upon which one’s identity is founded. Rather, the self is the “bundle” of thoughts and impressions present at any moment (6). These bundles pass away and give rise to new thoughts and impressions. Thus an entirely new self arises that bears no necessary or logical connection to the previous self. To support his argument, Hume asks us to turn inwards and observe the contents of consciousness: For my part, when I enter most intimately into what I call myself, I al- ways stumble on some particular perception or other, of heat or cold, light or shade, love or hatred, pain or pleasure. I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe any thing but the perception. When my perceptions are remov’d for any time, as by sound sleep; so long am I insensible of myself, and may truly be said not to exist (7). If we look inwards, we can find only perception. We can also find memories, but these are the revival of past perceptions (8). We do not find any singular thing that we could call an essence of self. Hume does not completely negate the existence of the self. There is certainly something that perceives. But, Hume argues that given the evidence, we cannot extrapolate beyond this fairly minimal conception of the self—what Elisabeth Camp more recently calls a “bare skeletal ego.” Again, the self just is perception. Science writer and neuroscientist David Eagleman offers an updated view of how bundle theories apply to the biology of the brain and thus supports bundle theories originating from Hume: So who you are at any given moment depends on the detailed rhythms of your neuronal firing. During the day, the conscious you emerges from that integrated neural complexity. At night, when the interaction of your neurons changes just a bit, you disappear...the meaning of something to you is all about your webs of associations, based on the whole history of your life experiences (9). Like Locke, Eagleman locates the self in consciousness, which he describes as “detailed rhythms of neuronal firing.” And when this neuronal firing shuts down perception during sleep you “disappear,” reflecting Hume’s claim that when we are “insensible” of perceptions we do not really exist (10). The self is perception and neuronal firing, and this neuronal firing impacts the way we experience and interpret the world. Hume’s description of the self is the foundation for most modern bundle theories. Thomas Metzinger, a German philosopher, similarly undermines belief in an essence or substance of self: “There is no such thing as a substantial self (as a distinct ontological entity, which could in principle exist by itself), but only a dynamic, ongoing process creating very specific representational and functional properties” (11). Like Hume, modern bundle theorists doubt an underlying self that exists over time and endows one with a sense of “I,” which is closely tied to one’s perceived personal identity and autonomy. While bundle theorists claim we do not have any rational reason to believe in a sense of “I,” they do admit its practical necessity, as well as the human inability to abandon it. Douglas Hofstadter expresses the utility of the sense of “I” in I Am a Strange Loop : “Ceasing to believe altogether in the ‘I’ is in fact impossible, because it is indispensable for survival. Like it or not, we humans are stuck for good with this myth” (294). It is natural and practical for an individual to construct a sense of “I” to navigate the world, make future plans, and distinguish herself from others. As Hofstadter states, a sense of “I” is thus necessary to survive in and engage with the world. If there is an objectively existing self, it is momentary and fleeting. And, in being solely composed of processes and perceptions, it is not an entity we can be perfectly authentic to over time. Nor is there an essence of self that we can stake personal identity upon. Instead, our sense of “I” comes from the temporally and subjectively existing selves we construct as useful “myths” (12). Let us call this subjectively existing entity the “self-concept” for the sake of clarity. The common view of authenticity, however, assumes that there is “true” underlying self to which to be authentic to. Under this view, authenticity is the expression of one’s “real” self. But, as bundle theorists have stated, there is not an underlying, temporally-extended self to em- brace! How can we be authentic to something that isn’t objectively real, if at all? Beyond proclaiming that personal identity is a construct, bundle theorists do not offer us any answers about authenticity. Still, I think bundle theorists would likely embrace what Varga and Guigon call a “postmodern” view of authenticity. This account of authenticity abandons an essential self and embraces a more minimal construction of self and authenticity: Postmodern thought raises questions about the existence of an underlying subject with essential properties accessible through introspection. The whole idea of the authentic as that which is “original”, “essential”, “proper”, and so forth now seems doubtful. If we are self-constituting beings who make ourselves up from one moment to the next, it appears that the term “authenticity” can refer only to whatever feels right at some particular moment (13). The bundle theorist, in viewing the objectively existing self as a continual and ever-changing process, would endorse the idea of a “self-constituting being” that makes itself up from “one moment to the next” (14). Thus postmodern authenticity is merely whatever feels right at some particular moment. And if we reject an essential, underlying self—which, given the psychological evidence from Strohminger, Quoidbach, and bundle theorists, I think we should—it seems we are left to embrace the postmodern account of authenticity. However, I do not find the postmodern conception of authenticity satisfying because we do not view ourselves as beings that make themselves up from one moment to the next. Rather, we wake up each day believing that we are more or less the same person we were the day before, with the same projects and goals, social relationships, and values. In our three “real world” examples, the postmodern view of authenticity gives Neryssa, Rowan, and Julia no direction as to what sorts of values or projects they ought to pursue to feel personally fulfilled. It may be true that they are just bare Humean selves from a purely objective standpoint, but they don’t view themselves as such. Consider if, in virtue of the postmodern account of authenticity, we were to tell them, “Well, just do what feels right in the moment.” They would probably respond along the lines of, “The problem is I don’t know what feels right in the moment, and the choice I make will impact my future. I don’t want to make the wrong choice!” They view themselves as people who are concerned about their futures, their well-being, and their personal projects. Neryssa, Rowan, and Julia all regard themselves as selves that exist over time with relatively consistent attributes. I think it is likely that most humans view themselves as selves that exist throughout time with somewhat consistent attributes, too. For instance, if I go to sleep liking the song “Piano Man” by Billy Joel and having a desire to learn the song on the guitar, I expect to wake up the next morning with the same sort of preferences and goals. And in taking myself to be a person with specific aspirations, I necessarily find myself interested in my future and what it holds for me. On the pain of speaking for a reader, I find it probable that they conceive of themselves in this manner, too. Elisabeth Camp offers further practical reasons for embracing a sense of “I” concerned with authenticity beyond the bare Humean ego. She argues that the sense of “I” allows an individual to make sense of and evaluate her life given her values and goals, to select relevant characteristics of selfhood and thus form a meaningful identity through which to understand herself, and to create and carry out future plans based on the self-concept she wants to create or maintain (15). Camp’s three listed benefits of a sense of “I” point to authenticity: we want to know who we are, if we have lived up to what we want to be, and how to best preserve a sense of self. In the service of self-understanding and pursuing a fulfilling life, we ought to care about a sense of “I” along with authenticity and its application to our lives. For an account of authenticity to be useful, then, it should take into consideration our perceived existence as temporally-existing selves with an eye to the future and the values and projects we hope to fulfill. In other words, a more satisfying and practical account of authenticity should work alongside our intuition of hav- ing a “true self,” even if the true self turns out to be more of a construct than an objectively existing entity. This new account of authenticity seems to be related to being loyal to a constructed self-concept. To restate, this account should (1) take into account the lack of an underlying “true” self in light of bundle theories, and (2) provide us with some direction in confronting difficult decisions in which one’s identity is in question or at stake. The Self-Concept and Concerns of Self-Deception In this section, I will define the self-concept and discuss some difficulties self-deception poses to the self-concept, though ultimately I think we can table such difficulties. Before we address the wider question of how one might be authentic to the somewhat subjective self-concept, we need to first define the self-concept. Here I will draw from Elisabeth Camp’s character model of self. This model describes the objective self as possessing “a distinctive way in which a particular ‘I’ inhabits, interprets, and engages with the world—a particular nexus of dispositions, memories, interests, and commitments” (16). These dispositions, memories, and interests, fit in with our earlier discussion of a psychological, Humean ego if we view them at a singular point in time. The self, as Camp defines it, is not so much a unified identity that endows one with a sense of “I.” Rather, it is a particular way of experiencing and interpreting the world. Here, it is worthwhile to note that these interests and dispositions constitute a “something” that makes up the bare, Humean ego. I do not wish to misrepresent Hume or bundle theorists in saying that there is no self whatsoever. Instead, we should recognize that the bare Humean ego is an existing self, an underlying “something” that makes up an individual. The problem regarding authenticity we find with the Humean ego is its impermanence and lack of a unified, temporally existing identity. The underlying Hueman ego is not an essence or substance of self that can endow us with a sense of “I” and a lasting identity. The bare Humean ego allows us to say “I exist,” or “Something that is me is here having experiences,” or perhaps even, “At this current moment, I would like to have a glass of lemonade,” but it would not allow us to say anything about the kind of person we are, especially if the statement has to do with a characteristic or commitment that is meant to describe us over time—perhaps something to the effect of, “I am the type of person to pursue graduate study.” So the Humean ego endows one with momentary consciousness but not a sense of self or identity. Camp believes that an individual comes to an understanding of herself when she posits a “self-interpretation,” and thus forms the meaningful identity the bare Humean ego lacks. Camp compares a self-interpretation to a theory, as both create a coherent pattern or explanation “by electing and structuring a coherent unity out of [a] teeming multiplicity [of evidence].” Camp remarks that we can evaluate the effectiveness of a self-interpretation in the same way we would evaluate a theory. The more disparate elements it unites, the stronger the theory and related self-interpretation. Just as many theories can be equally probable or valid, so too can multiple self-interpretations. Likewise, when interpreting a body of data, there are clearly some interpretations that are better than others. While many interpretations may be on a par in strength, we can still distinguish between “bad” theories, which are not much grounded in the evidence nor realistic, and “good” theories, which take into account the available body of evidence for realistic interpretations. Let us say that the self-concept is the self-interpretation an individual embraces as the “best” explanatory theory for themselves given the current evidence. The self-concept is one’s understanding of their experience of the world. It is also the constructed identity that unifies one’s dispositions, memories, and interests. Thus, it is the self-concept that endows one with a sense of self and identity. I want to emphasize that even though one’s self-concept is subjective, there are limitations to its construction. The self-concept relies on objective evidence: the particular dispositions, interests, and memories held by an individual. This evidence is publicly accessible, too. Irish philosopher Philip Pettit remarks that an individual is a “figure in the public world, characterized by public properties” (17). The dispositions and interests held by an individual influence her behavior, actions, and statements. As such, the evidence becomes accessible to the public and available for use in forming a self-interpretation. Though the interpretation itself is subjective in how one decides to connect evidence and organize it into a meaningful pattern, an individual’s dispositions and interests remain objective because they exist without any given meaning. For example, say that Cassandra has an interest in almost every genre of music: country, hip hop, indie, classical—she likes it all. Before interpretation, this is simply an objective fact. Cassandra’s friend, Russel, believes that Cassandra likes many different genres of music because she is an open-minded person. Cassandra, on the other hand, believes that she likes so many genres because she had friends with varied music tastes growing up. Cassandra and Russel take an objective fact and then attribute meaning to it through interpretation. I would compare this sort of interpretation to the construction of historical narratives. Historians share the same set of facts about a historical event, but how they choose to connect them and endow them with meaning will vary. Given the objective nature of these public properties, we can blame an individual for a particularly self-deluding interpretation. For instance, a man who believes he is Napoleon might point to some evidence as reasons for him forming such a self-concept—perhaps he has a talent for tactical strategy and horseback riding— while ignoring glaringly contradictory evidence such as the fact that he is not French and he was not born in 1769. But this is a quite obvious case of self-delu-sion. What about more ambiguous, “real life” cases? I do not want to venture too far into this topic, but I would like to put forth a general means of avoiding, or at least living, with self-delusion. Firstly, we ought to approach self-concepts with the understanding that we are constructing theories, and like theories, self-interpretations are provisional. They can and should be replaced when new evidence comes to light, and if we are individuals that are dedicated to self-understanding and epistemic respectability, we ought to undergo regular introspection to uncover new evidence or re-contextualize old evidence. I think it is likely that we do so already. As fairly self-centered creatures, we like to talk about our lives with our acquaintances. Much of the time, this naturally incorporates interpretation of the self. Perhaps you spend some time talking with a friend over lunch about why you like horror movies. That evening, you discuss with your partner why they feel unfulfilled by their current job. Before bed, you silently think about whether you are the sort of person who would be happy adopting a child. With our recognition of self-concepts as provisional comes a sense of what Laurie Paul calls “epistemic humility.” We can be wrong about the sort of person we think we are, and so we must approach the self-concept knowing that we will likely get quite a few things wrong. Perhaps you thought you were the sort of person who values their career over family, but once you were faced with the actual choice to stay home and raise children or accept a promotion, you found that your priorities lay with family. What is most authentic for us to do is not always represented by the current self-concept, and this only comes to light when we encounter a choice that tests our self-concept. These choices are an integral part of self-discovery. Once again invoking epistemic humility, it seems that we are never fully done defining the self-concept. There will always be additional evidence generated or uncovered through events that test or reveal one’s character. Thus, we should accept that the self-concept is a provisional entity which we must continually discover and refine. Authenticity as Commitment, Temporally Extended Agency, and Practical Identity An Existing Definition of Authenticity Charles and Guigon pose this question in their entry on authenticity in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy: “What is it to be oneself, at one with one- self, or truly representing one’s self?” They contrast this more complicated view of authenticity of self with the authenticity of objects, in which the latter is defined as the state of being “faithful to an original” or a “reliable, accurate representation” (18). While I agree that the authenticity of a self is more complicated than that of objects, I see no need to generate an alternative definition of authenticity if we can produce a “standard” to which an individual might be faithful. The existing thing being judged for authenticity in terms of faithfulness to an original or reliability in representation is a particular self-concept. Our account of authenticity will need to explain how we can temporally extend the self-concept and thus create a standard to be faithful to over time. The next natural question has to do with what it means to say that a person is a “reliable, accurate representation” of themselves (19). To form a “reliable, accurate, representation” of oneself, there are two primary “keys”: commitment and tempo- rally-extended agency, both of which I will discuss in the remainder of this section. The Personated Self, Commitment, and Agency The first key to a new account of authenticity lies in commitment. Here I will make use of Philip Pettit’s discussion of commitment and selfhood. Though Pettit primarily focuses on selfhood and identity in his article “My Three Selves,” I believe we can extend his conclusions to our current discussion of authenticity. According to Pettit, a person is defined as an “agent with the capacity to personate,” where personation is the act of presenting a persona and “inviting[ing] others to adopt [this] picture of who you are” (20). For instance, say that my friend asks me to keep a promise and I agree to do so. In doing so, I am making a claim about myself and a commitment to that claim: I will keep my friend’s promise. If I want my personated self to be relied upon, I ought to do as I said I would and keep the promise. If I do not, my earlier claim is compromised in its assertion as the truth. An individual must “live up to their words in practice: they act as the attitudes communicated would warrant" (21). In effect, the individual treats their personated self as real and, in living up to their personated self, invites others to do the same. In doing as I said I would, I fulfill the persona I set forth, thus endowing it with a sense of provisional reality. Here we come up against an objection. In making commitments or endorsing a particular self-interpretation, it would seem that an agent must be almost narcissitically focused on the creation of the self-concept at any given moment. Pettit’s own view is in tension with this sort of narcissism: “To return to a point made earlier, however, this self is not a construct that I intend to create as such...That claim ties personhood, implausibly, to a highly intellectualized form of reflection and a pattern of self-scripting that sounds downright narcissistic, as critics have suggested” (22). Relying on a “highly intellectualized form of reflection” poses a problem because it would require us to undergo a good deal of reflective agony about the person we take ourselves to be every time we make a commitment. Furthermore, it is entirely possible for an individual to possess a rich identity without undertaking highly intellectualized reflection. I think that we can still be quite conscious and aware of the commitments we endorse without being overly focused, or even highly aware of, the personated self we are creating in most cases. The following example will help us overcome this objection. Say that you ask me to drive you to the mechanic to pick up your car. I will likely say yes barring a major inconvenience. When I agree to drive you to the mechanic, I do not fully conceptualize the person that I believe myself to be. Rather, I feel as a matter of good will that I should help you out. If you were to ask me why I drove you, I could come up with the answer upon momentary reflection: I agreed because I take my- self to be the sort of person to help out a friend in a bind. But I don’t take the commitment itself to be constitutive of my self-concept unless prompted by some out- side inquiry or internal reflection. Furthermore, in such moments of self-reflection I do not focus on a singular commitment but a larger collection of commitments that I attempt to arrange into a meaningful pattern, thus forming a self-concept. Pettit echoes this sort of intermittent reflection, writing, “...it is important that it may take effort to achieve a full knowledge of who and how in this sense I am... Thus, it may take time and trouble for me to develop such a sense of where I am committed” (23). In other words, the personated self is something we make somewhat unconsciously through conscious commitments, and it is only later, through adequate reflection, that we develop a “sense of where we are committed,” and thus a self-concept to which to be faithful to (24). Now we can return to the initial example of my promissory commitment to my friend. In keeping my promise to my friend, I find that I have been faithful to my commitment in this particular instance. If I expand this promissory commitment to be constitutive of my self-concept and thus the sort of person that I take myself to be, I will as a matter of principle continue to fulfill my promises. If I successfully keep such commitments, my actions, behaviors, and claims will accurately and reliably represent my self-concept. My friend will accept that I am the sort of person to keep a promise, given that I continue to keep promises when called upon to do so. So authenticity relies on the fulfillment of the commitments one sets forth as constituting their self-concept (or at least, a sincere attempt to fulfill such commitments). With commitment comes the second key: temporally extended agency. As Pettit suggests in his definition of a person, persons are a particular sort of agent—an individual or entity that undertakes or performs an action (25). When we make commitments, we become agents concerned with values, goals, and policies that are enacted over time. American philosopher Michael Bratman uses the goal of writ- ing a paper as an example of temporally extended agency: I see my activity of, say, writing a paper, as something I do over an extend- ed period of time. I see myself as beginning the project, developing it over time, and (finally!) completing it. I see the agent of these various activities as one and the same agent-namely, me. In the middle of the project I see myself as the agent who began the project and (I hope) the agent who will complete it. Upon completion I take pride in the fact that I began, worked on, and completed this essay. Of course, there is a sense in which when I act at a particular time; but in acting I do not see myself, the agent of the act, as simply a time-slice agent. I see my action at that time as the action of the same agent as he who has acted in the past and (it is to be hoped) will act in the future (26). Similarly, an individual can make a commitment to be a particular sort of person that acts in a particular sort of way, and then carry this commitment over time. The individual does not view their self-concept and associated commitments as a “time-slice agent,” even if the Humean self changes from moment to moment (27). Rather, commitments connect both the personated self and the self-concept through time. Harry Frankfurt, another American philosopher, similarly argues that the individual makes plans and acts in virtue of the commitments which she cares about, and thus becomes “inherently prospective; that is, [she] necessarily considers [herself] as having a future” (28). So too do such plans entail a “notion of guidance” along with a “certain consistency or steadfastness of behavior; and this presupposes some degree of persistence” (29). To re-emphasize my point, though we may objectively be bare Humean selves, on the basis of forming commitments and endorsing them over time, we create a provisional sort of self that is temporally extended in terms of agency and identity. Even if the objective self shifts from moment to moment, the commitments we endorse remain somewhat consistent and thus so does the self-concept. Furthermore, for our self-constituting commitments to have a real impact on who we take ourselves to be and how other people perceive us, they must be somewhat consistent. Like a theory, a self-concept should accurately “predict” future behavior and actions—if a self-concept were not consistent, it would not have much credibility or trustworthiness for those around us. Nor would it be a source of guidance and meaning for the individual. To sum, a personated self arises out of one’s commitments (and more generally, one’s intent to act/actions). A personated self is temporally extended into a more unified identity when one is faithful to their commitments, though a reflective understanding of this identity is not yet present. To construct the self-concept and achieve a level of self-understanding, the collection of commitments are arranged into a meaningful pattern as if to say, “I am this sort of person because I have made several commitments of this kind in the past, and I would like to continue doing so.” The self-concept, though subjective, gives us a standard to which to be authentic and guides our future actions in the service of preserving authenticity. We decide who we are and who we want to be, and then we do our best to fulfill the self-concept we conceive. At the core of authenticity, we find a steadfastness and consistency towards one’s commitments. I also believe that the required degree of faithfulness to a commitment is normative. I cannot give a full account here, but if we accept Quoidbach’s conclusion that core values, personality traits, and preferences change over time, then we should also allow commitments and authenticity to shift over time. An individual should be required to uphold her commitments for as long as they accurately rep- resent the person she takes herself to be at present. In this manner, our novel ac- count of authenticity occupies a median position between that of bundle theorists and a true and essential self. The self-concept is stable from moment to moment unlike the self put forth by bundle theories. However, the self-concept is revised as one undergoes self-discovery and changes as a person, so it does not rely on consistent and core personality traits like the essential self. What is authentic to me today might not be authentic to me in ten years, though our account of authenticity allows for gradual changes over the course of one’s life. We are held to our commitments, but only to a point. Authenticity is, then, a moving target. How Commitments Originate Commitments and the behaviors and actions they endorse may seem arbitrarily chosen, especially if one does not have a given reason to endorse a particular self-concept over others. Here I will discuss how commitments originate and what reasons they are based on. First, I wish to introduce the concepts of fixed traits and free traits. According to personality psychologist Brian Little, a fixed trait is an inborn or “culturally endowed” personality trait such as introversion or conscientiousness (30). A fixed trait is “fixed” in virtue of its givenness. I cannot wake up and decide, as a matter of will, to no longer be an introvert. Free traits, on the other hand, are “tendencies expressed by individual choice,” such as cultivating an interest in soccer (31). However, Little also believes that fixed traits and free traits can coexist, particularly in how an individual chooses to modify fixed traits to fulfill a goal. In the spirit of our earlier discussion of temporally extended agency, Little states that we must “extend personality temporally ,” because over time, particular personality traits are emphasized or downplayed based on one’s core projects (32). A core project is defined as “meaningful goals, both small and large, that can range from ‘put out the cat, quickly,’ to ‘transform Western thought, slowly’” (33). Importantly, a longstanding core project related to one’s life work and identity resembles Pettit’s definition of commitments. Little uses himself as an example: as an introvert, he dislikes public speaking. However, he also values being a professor and sharing knowledge, and thus pushes himself out of his comfort zone during lectures and speeches (34). His commitment to teaching and imparting knowledge allows him to take a fixed trait and disposition, introversion, and treat it as a free trait for a limited amount of time to work towards his core project. Though it may not be authentic of Little to become a professional public speaker, it is still authentic of him to undergo public speaking engagements due to his commitments. Little’s self-concept might be the following: “I take myself to be an introvert, but if I have a cause I really care about, I’m willing to talk in front of a crowd and thus act as if I were an extrovert.” Little’s acting like an extrovert does not make him one, but rather invites others to view him as someone who can successfully engage a crowd with a speech regardless of introversion or extroversion. Therefore, commitments are based upon inborn and culturally endowed behavior, dispositions, and interests, although we might have some control over if and how we enact such traits. In his paper “The Importance of What We Care About,” Harry Frankfurt offers support for the necessity of given traits. He writes, “While what is antecedently important to the person may be alterable, it must not be subject to his own immediate voluntary control. If it is to provide him with a genuine basis for evaluations of importance, the fact that he cares about it cannot be dependent simply upon his own decision or choice” (35). We must start with some given and objective behaviors, dispositions, and interests, lest our entire constitution be entirely arbitrary. Though we cannot choose our given traits, I believe we still have a degree of freedom in which traits cultivate and express. We can, as Millgram argues, “take an interest in something, in the hope of finding it interesting” because we are curious and will ourselves to look into a new interest (36). The same sort of curiosity and flexibility applies to behaviors and dispositions. We cannot fundamentally change these characteristics, but perhaps we can be curious enough to see how flexible they are in our expression of them. Like Little, we can undertake a project that pushes us outside of our comfort zone. This allows us to observe how freely we can manipulate a fixed trait. There is a balance between commitments we undertake knowing that we will have to alter fixed traits and commitments which we accept because we acknowledge we have particular fixed traits. Thus, another consideration of authenticity is understanding how far and for how long we can push ourselves past fixed traits until we experience what Little calls “burnout” (37). We might also find that there are behaviors and interests that we simply cannot enact or adopt, try as we might. A few years ago, I tried to cultivate an interest in ornithology. Though I was curious, I could not adopt or sustain the interest, and eventually abandoned my attempts at doing so because it did not bring me any pleasure and I had no other strong reasons to keep trying. On the other hand, there are behaviors and interests that we simply cannot abandon or downplay. While I cannot bring myself to be interested in ornithology, I find it difficult to remain uninterested in The Bachelor when it airs. Perhaps my lack of interest in ornithology and my inability to abandon interest in The Bachelor are the result of my not trying hard enough. To this sort of objection, I reply that I have no reason to try harder, nor a further interest in doing so. I might try harder to develop an interest in ornithology if I had a commitment or core project that related to it, such as spending more time with a friend who likes bird watching. I might also try harder to abandon my interest in The Bachelor if I read a scientific article about the detriment of reality TV to the human brain, which would be in tension with my greater commitment to intellectual health. As it stands, I don’t have any further interest or relevant commitments that would have me try harder to mold these traits. Thus, part of living authentically might be realizing which of our traits are involuntary and which of our traits are voluntary—in other words, which traits are decidedly fixed and which traits are some- what mutable. Living authentically is a balance of acceptance and choice in terms of forming and fulfilling commitments, as well as discovering what commitments we can and cannot enact. Our account of authenticity has arguably come to resemble Harry Frankfurt’s account of freedom of will. Frankfurt argues that freedom of will relies on the hi- erarchical ordering and endorsement of desires and volitions (38). Likewise, I believe authenticity relates to ordering one’s commitments by their strength, especially when we are faced with two competing commitments. Authenticity comes from the commitments we endorse, and one commitment, such as the inborn tendency to be introverted, can be overridden by a stronger commitment and accompanying desire such as the commitment to be a professor that engages in public speaking with the desire of imparting knowledge. Therefore, another aspect of authenticity is reflecting upon what one cares about, and then determining, either by an act of will or an acceptance of one’s nature, which of these values “overrides” the others. Our new account of authenticity also bears relation to Christine’s Korsgaard’s description of practical identity. In deciding which commitments to make, we create policies or “laws” which dictate future actions: “When you deliberate, it is as if there were something over and above all of your desires, something that is you, and that chooses which desire to act on. This means that the principle or law by which you determine your actions is one that you regard as being expressive of yourself” (39). Korsgaard further supports my assertion that commitments are expressions of the self-concept. Making commitments builds what Korsgaard calls one’s “practical identity,” which is “a description under which you find your life to be worth living and your actions to be worth undertaking.”40 Where the personated self focuses on the making of commitments to present a self to others, the practical identity emphasizes making commitments to define and justify the actions of a self. Indeed, Korsgaard’s description of integrity might as well be discussing authenticity: Etymologically, integrity is oneness, integration is what makes something one. To be a thing, one thing, a unity, an entity; to be anything at all: in the metaphysical sense, that is what it means to have integrity. But we use the term for someone who lives up to his own standards. And that is be- cause we think that living up to them is what makes him one, and so what makes him a person at all (41). Along with authenticity and practical identity comes a sense of “integration” or “oneness” of self. The commitments, values, interests, and actions of an individual come together under the self-concept to form a rational pattern. Korsgaard additionally indicates another consideration in our search for authenticity: we should attempt to form commitments that exist in harmony with each other rather than in tension. In doing so, we form a self-concept better equipped for consistency and steadfastness. Practical and Existential Reasons for Committing Once you have made a commitment, why should you keep it? Let’s return to our earlier example: I tell my friend that I’m the sort of person to keep a promise, and he asks me to promise that I will attend his jazz concert tomorrow evening. What are the consequences of my failure to show up and fulfill my promise? Pettit offers three excuses that I might use in such a situation, which we will apply to our discussion of authenticity. The first is an excuse of circumstance (42). Say that I call my friend after the concert and profusely apologize for missing the event. However, I have a relevant excuse for the context. At the last minute, a family member of mine was admitted to the hospital and my presence was needed. With this excuse (as long as it is true), my friend excuses me from living up to my earlier promissory commitment. In fact, I could use an excuse of circumstance as many times as necessary, though it is unlikely that I would be able to genuinely use such excuses unless I were an incredibly unlucky person. We can regard ourselves as acting authentically in this situation because, although we had two competing commitments, we fulfilled the commitment we felt was stronger. If my friend understands my self-concept and rationally approaches the situation, he will likely understand why I valued my commitment to aiding my family in an emergency over attending his jazz concert. In this context I suffer little to no consequences for failing to uphold my promissory commitment. The other two excuses are less so the product of uncontrollable circumstances but of mental states or events. They result in interpersonal consequences. The first is an appeal to being misled by one’s mind. Say that I tell my friend that I truly thought I could make a promise to go to his concert, but when the occasion arose, I found that I simply could not keep it. Perhaps I remembered that I don’t like crowds, and therefore could not attend the concert. My initial willingness was an instance of self-delusion, or at the very least, a lack of self-knowledge (43). If I use this excuse, my friend would begin to see me as easily misled and too quick to form self-judgments. What kind of person, he might ask, forgets that they dislike crowds? Certainly not a person who is properly introspective. My friend would regard me as untrustworthy when it comes to my statements about commitments, and thus would disbelieve elements of my self-concept. If my self-concept does not match up with my personated self and its actions, then I have failed to act authentically. I will suggest that authenticity is an attractive quality in a friend and necessary for a steady relationship. If I continue to be inauthentic, then I might destroy our relationship. The second excuse is a matter of changing one’s mind (44). Say that I was not misled when I made the prior commitment, but I decide I no longer want to keep my promise. Besides being outrightly rude in changing my mind about this commitment, I also appear “wishy-washy,” or indecisive, to my friend. I make commitments without thinking about what they entail. My friend would regard me as unreliable and “flaky.” I would fail to be faithful to my commitments, and it might cost me my reputation. My friend would be less likely to rely on me and to let me rely on him in return (45). Again, authenticity is necessary for maintaining stable interpersonal relationships (46). Beyond potentially losing a meaningful interpersonal relationship, breaking commitments bears pressing existential implications. Varga and Guigon, in quoting Sartre, express a worry about the “cost” of breaking self-constituting commitments: If an agent acts against her commitments, she risks the “radical transformation of her being-in-the-world.” If I say that I am the type of person to keep a promise and then fail to do so, I will have to take this new behavioral evidence into account. If I fail to keep a promise multiple times, then my action is not simply out of character—it is my character. If I avoid deceiving myself, I will have to admit that I am not the type of person to keep a promise, and thus must change my self-concept. My personated self, the outward persona which I present to others through my attitudes and actions, would come apart from my practical identity and self-concept. I would lose who I take myself to be. Korsgaard adds to this worry: “Consider the astonishing but familiar ‘I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.’ Clearly there are two selves here, me and the one I must live with and so must not fail” (47). Here, she elaborates upon the discomfort of losing who one takes themselves to be. As we have previously seen in the case of the personated self vs the self-concept, there is a tension between who we take ourselves to be and who we really are by virtue of our behavior and actions. I would have to live with the knowledge that I want to be someone who keeps their promises, but, based on my actions, I can no longer claim this commitment as part of my self-concept. Again, if I do not delude myself, I have to recognize that I am not a reliable person nor a good friend when it comes to promises. As Korsgaard points out, I would have trouble “living” with myself; my self-esteem would suffer. Indeed, this sort of asymmetry in my personated self versus my self-concept has some serious consequences if I let it infect too much of my being: It is the conceptions of ourselves that are most important to us that give rise to unconditional obligations. For to violate them is to lose your integrity and so your identity, and no longer to be who you are. That is, it is no longer to be able to think of yourself under the description under which you value yourself and find your life worth living and your actions worth undertaking. That is to be for all practical purposes dead or worse than dead (48). This is quite the cost. If I value being the sort of person who keeps their promises, then I would find it difficult to exist with the knowledge that I am someone who does not do so. While I think Korsgaard’s statement here is overly dire in terms of breaking only a few loose commitments, she illustrates the real and pressing threat that losing one’s authenticity poses. If I fail to live up to several of my commitments, especially those which I designate as highly integral to my self-concept, I risk creating a life in which I find no value, meaning, or self-esteem. My personated self would be so far removed from my desired self-concept that I would feel the disconnect Korsgaard mentions between “me and the one I must live with” (49). Such an existential state is likely the source of statements such as, “I am a stranger to myself,” and “I do not recognize myself any longer.” Finally, having long-term commitments is part of an enjoyable life and the avoidance of boredom. Little and Frankfurt concur on this end. Little is quoted as saying, “Human flourishing is achieved through the sustainable pursuit of one’s core projects,” which can be reframed as lasting commitments to one’s goals (50). Frankfurt, too, identifies final ends as the driving purpose of one’s life: “If we had no final ends, it is more than desire that would be empty and vain. It is life itself. For living without goals or purposes is living with nothing to do” (51). We need commitments as final ends in order to build fulfilling and interesting lives. Further- more, commitments stave off the encroachment of boredom. Boredom, Frankfurt claims, threatens one’s “psychic survival” (52). Besides losing a sense of personhood, a lack of commitments and the development of boredom would endanger one’s mental existence and inner life. We can see, from discussing the existential implications of breaking commitments, even more reasons to pursue authenticity. Applying Our New Account of Authenticity Now that we have a new account of authenticity, let’s return to the three cases we posed earlier. How does our new account of authenticity offer guidance to Neryssa, Rowan, and Julia? For (a), we would first ask Neryssa how much her job contributes to her sense of identity, and thus, her self-concept. If she does not stake much of her identity upon her job, then for the sake of authenticity, she does not need to search for a new job. If she does take her work to be a large part of her identity, then she will need to search for a new job because the current job is in tension with her self-concept and the person she takes herself to be. We would also ask Neryssa how much the company’s product and mission misalign with her personal values. If she works for a corporation that espouses anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric while simultaneously taking herself to be someone who supports LGBTQ+ rights, she might, as Korsgaard warns, find it difficult to “live with herself.” Let’s say that Neryssa does stake a fair amount of her identity on her job. In addition, let’s say that the company’s values are greatly misaligned with Neryssa’s values. We would say that it is more authentic of Neryssa to leave her current job and search for a job that is representative of her values and the person she takes herself to be. We might even counsel her and suggest that, in staying in a job that is in tension with her self-concept, she risks burnout, the loss of her sense of identity, and general dissatisfaction. Furthermore, she might find it difficult to even commit to a job that she cannot fully endorse. In terms of authenticity alone, we would say that it is best for Neryssa to search for a new job. In (b), it would be helpful if we suggest that Rowan reframe the question. Instead of worrying about which major is the most authentic choice, we would remind Rowan that authenticity is not an expression of an essence of self. Rather, authenticity is a commitment to the self-concept, or, the self they take themselves to be. Therefore, they should ask themselves which major they would find themselves most capable of committing to. Can they envision a long-term commitment to either history or literature? In reframing the question in this way, we take away the agony related to the question, “What kind of person am I?” and turn our attention to a new question: “What kind of person would I like to be?” This question is prospective and forward-looking, and it emphasizes that there is no truly “right” choice (although some choices might be more “right” than others). We make a choice “right” by committing to it, given that we have the capability and interest necessary to commit to it in the first place. In Rowan’s case, they have the added benefit of being able to change their major. Say that Rowan declares an English major, but after a semester of classes, realizes that they would much prefer life as a history major. They can now change their commitment and self-concept. Thus, Rowan’s case endows us with a bit of advice for ourselves. When we can, we might try out a choice or experience before making a commitment to it and staking our identity upon it. For example, say that you are interested in becoming a parent. Before committing to parenthood (which, unlike a college major decision, cannot be reversed once chosen), you might spend some time taking care of young children and talking to their parents about the pros and cons of raising a child. While spending time with young children and talking to parents cannot fully replicate the actual experience of becoming a par- ent, you would at least have a clearer idea of what parenthood entails. In (c), we would remind Julia that her decision for or against the attack ad will become evidence that constitutes her self-concept. This is because decisions of this nature are “expressive of yourself” (Korsgaard 83). She needs to evaluate which she values more: the ultimate goal of her campaign, which is to promote environ- mentally sustainable legislature; or her personal morals and commitment to “playing by the rules.” If she runs the attack ad, she commits to being the sort of person who values the greater cause over her personal morals. If she decides against the attack ad, she commits to being the sort of person who values her personal morals over the greater cause, even if the greater cause is quite worthy. What we are asking of Julia is similar to what we asked of Rowan: “What sort of person would you like to be?” As we did with Neryssa, we would tell Julia to make the commitment that results in a self-concept she can “live with.” Though running the attack ad might help Julia win the election, the victory will mean little if she has sacrificed the self-concept that she wants to embody. Or perhaps Julia determines that she values the ultimate goal of her campaign more than her personal morals. In doing so, she commits to a new self-concept, one that values the greater good over her personal qualms. What matters in Julia’s case is that she decides in relation to a self-concept she can endorse and commit to, and thus continue past the decision with minimal tension between the person she takes herself to be and the person she acts as. Her self-concept, whatever it ends up being, will also influence how she reacts to and values future decisions, so it is imperative that she be able to commit to this new self-concept over time. I hope these three examples properly illustrate how one would use this new account of authenticity in real-world situations. I believe authenticity is of greatest importance when we are faced with difficult, self-constituting decisions. On a day- to-day basis, we might find it unnecessary to ask whether an egg salad sandwich or a hamburger is a more authentic lunch choice. However, it is necessary to spend time reflecting upon the self-concept and authenticity when the choice we face has clearly life-altering consequences or stands to change the way that we conceive of ourselves. And though authenticity may be an important factor in how one makes decisions and conceives of themselves, it is not necessary that authenticity and steadfast commitments constitute a morally admirable or respectable life. A person could commit to being flaky, to being a nuisance to their friends, or to being a criminal mastermind all while still being authentic. On a final note, it may seem as if one cannot help but be authentic if, at the end of day, authenticity amounts to a sincere commitment to one’s self-constituting choices. It seems like Neryssa could just as easily authentically embrace the practicality of keeping her current job as she could embrace the authenticity of seeking more fulfilling work, as long as she fully commits to her choice. However, I do not think this new account of authenticity is too weak regarding the tension between the personated self and the self-concept. Again, I will use the quote from Korsgaard: “Consider the astonishing but familiar ‘I couldn’t live with myself if I did that.’ Clearly there are two selves here, me and the one I must live with and so must not fail” (53). Sometimes the person we take ourselves to be is markedly different from the behavior we exhibit and values we espouse. In these situations, we have two options. One option is to accept a new self-concept in light of new behavioral evidence. Alternatively, we can change ourselves or our lives, thus pursuing greater harmony between the person we act as and the person we take ourselves to be. The discomfort of not being able to live with oneself is what holds us to a stricter attribution of authenticity. Conclusion From the initial doubt that bundle theories cast upon the necessity and nature of authenticity, we find ourselves with a novel account of authenticity centered upon steadfastness to the commitments which we take as integral to our self-concept. It is this self-concept that endows us with a sense of “I” and identity. When the actions and behavior of the personated self successfully act as a “reliable, accurate representation” of the person we take ourselves to be, we are authentic to that sense of identity. When faced with difficult decisions which have the potential to shape who we take ourselves to be, it may help to ask ourselves not what is most authentic of some underlying essence of self, but what we would find most natural to commit to. With this sort of direction, we will hopefully continue to construct self-concepts which we can “live with” and bring fulfillment and satisfaction to our lives. Endnotes 1 Christian Jarrett, “There Is No Such Thing as the True Self, but It’s Still a Useful Psychological Concept,” 2017. https://digest.bps.org.uk/2017/08/22/there-is-no-such- thing-as-the-true-self-but-its-still-a-useful-psychological-concept/ 2 Jordi Quoidbach, et al., “The End of History Illusion,” Science , vol. 339, (2013), 98. 3 David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature , (Oxford: 1896), 134). 4 There are other considerations at play in each scenario. For instance, in (c), there are also considerations of ethics. In (a) and (b), there are considerations of practicality and utility in regards to selecting a job and a college major. Still, authenticity plays a role in what the agent chooses and how they decide to value considerations of ethics, practicality, and utility, so each scenario will involve authenticity in some way, although authenticity might not be the only deciding factor. 5 John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding Book II: Ideas , 118. 6 Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature , 134. 7 Ibid. 8 Ibid, 11. 9 David Eagleman, The Brain: The Story of You , (New York: Vintage Books, 2015), 34-35. 10 Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature , 134. 11 Thomas Metzinger, “Self Models,” Scholarpedia , 2007. 12 Douglas Hofstadter, I Am a Strange Loop , (Basic Books: 2007), 294. 13 Somogy Varga and Charles Guignon, “Authenticity,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy , 2020. 14 Ibid. 15 E Camp, “Wordsworth’s Prelude, Poetic Autobiography, and Narrative Constructions of the Self,” Retrieved 2021, from https://nonsite.org/wordsworths-prelude-poetic- autobiography-and-narrative-constructions-of-the-self/. 16 Ibid. 17 Philip Pettit, “My Three Selves,” Philosophy , vol. 95, no. 3, 2020, 6. 18 Varga and Guignon, “Authenticity.” 19 Ibid. 20 Philip Pettit, “Philip Pettit: My Three Selves. Royal Institute of Philosophy Annual Lecture 2019,” YouTube , uploaded by RoyIntPhilosophy, 2019, www.youtube.com/ watch?v=DUzuNVuEIYA. 21 Pettit, “My Three Selves,” 7-8. 22 Ibid, 18. 23 Ibid, 19. 24 Three more brief notes. (1) It is possible that the first time I make a commitment to be a certain sort of person that the commitment does require substantive reflection and narcissistic intellectualization. But hereafter, the fulfilling of the commitment is somewhat automatic as a matter of policy. If I find no difficulties in fulfilling my commitment (say, a competing commitment), it should be easy for me to do so with little reflection. (2) Some decisions concerning commitments do require substantive reflection and narcissistic intellectualization, along with an awareness of both. However, these sorts of commitments are likely “tests of character” or life-changing decisions, so they warrant such agonizing and reflection. I have in mind the decision to marry someone, to have a child, to go to war, to change careers, etc. (3) Here we can easily see how “taking stock” of one’s life might prompt a series of new commitments and the abandonment of old ones. We look back on the commitments we have made and decide, through the gradual making and fulfilling of new commitments, to form a new self-concept. In instances of conscious change, we would be aware of the new commitments we make—we would be more “mindful” of the personated self being created than we naturally find ourselves to be. 25 Pettit, “My Three Selves,” 7. 26 Michael Bratman, “Reflection, Planning, and Temporally Extended Agency,” The Philosophical Review , vol. 109, no. 1, 2000, 43. 27 Ibid. 28 Harry Frankfurt, “The Importance of What We Care About,” Synthese , vol. 53, no. 2, (1982), 260. 29 Ibid, 161. 30 Susan Cain, Quiet , (New York: Crown Publishers, 2012), 209. 31 Craig Lambert, “Introversion Unbound,” Harvard Magazine , July 2003, www.harvardmagazine.com/2003/07/introversion-unbound.html. 32 Ibid. 33 Ibid. 34 Cain, Quiet , 209-210. 35 Frankfurt,“Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person,” Journal of Philosophy, Inc. , vol. 68, no. 1, (1971), 18. 36 Elijah Millgram, “On Being Bored Out of Your Mind,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society , vol. 104, (2004), 179. 37 Lambert, “Introversion Unbound.” 38 Frankfurt, “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person,” 15. 39 Christine Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity , (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 83. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid, 84. 42 Pettit, “My Three Selves,” 17. 43 Ibid, 9. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid, 19-20. 46 By authenticity in relationships, I do not mean "showing your true self." Many of our relationships might only exist because we present ourselves in a curated fashion. So authenticity in relationships might simply be keeping one’s commitments. However, as in our discussion of free trait theory, there is a limit to which we can keep up an image that is in tension with our given traits. Authenticity in a relationship is, once again, a balance between the person we are for others (free or mutable traits) and the person we cannot help but be (fixed traits). 47 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity , 84. 48 Ibid. 49 Ibid. 50 Lambert, "Introversion Unbound." 51 Harry Frankfurt, "On the Usefulness of Final Ends." Iyyun: The Jerusalem Philosophical Quarterly , vol. 41, (1992), 6-7. 52 Ibid, 12. 53 Korsgaard, The Sources of Normativity , 84. Works Cited Bratman, Michael E. “Reflection, Planning, and Temporally Extended Agency.” The Philosophical Review , vol. 109, no. 1, 2000, pp. 35–61. JSTOR , www. jstor.org/stable/2693554? seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents. Cain, Susan. Quiet . New York, Crown Publishers, 2012. Camp, E. (2020, September 17). Wordsworth’s Prelude, Poetic Autobiography, and Narrative Constructions of the Self. Retrieved February 19, 2021, from https://nonsite.org/wordsworths- prelude-poetic-autobiography-and-narrative-constructions-of-the-self/. Eagleman, David. The Brain: The Story of You . New York, Vintage Books, 2015. Frankfurt, Harry G. “Alternate Possibilities and Moral Responsibility.” The Journal of Philosophy, vol. 66, no. 23, 1969, pp. 829–39. JSTOR, www.jstor. org/stable/2023833. Frankfurt, Harry G. “Freedom of the Will and the Concept of a Person.” Journal of Philosophy, Inc. , vol. 68, no. 1, 1971, pp. 5–20. JSTOR , www.jstor. org/stable/pdf/2024717.pdf? refreqid=excelsior%3A4fc27219ea9ee0fb- c13044d020500b1. Frankfurt, Harry. “On the Usefulness of Final Ends.” Iyyun: The Jerusalem Philosophical Quarterly , vol. 41, 1992, pp. 3–19. JSTOR , www.jstor.org/stable/23350712seq=1#metadata_info_tab_contents. 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How Political Instability Unravels Religious Commitment Even in the Face of Uncertainty Abanti Ahmed Author Hans Xu Koda Li Xuanyu (Willard) Zhu Editors Abstract This paper explores the dynamic relationship between political instability and religiosity in Egypt and Tunisia, with a focus on the period from 2012 to 2018. The central research question examines how individuals navigate uncertainty and address political challenges, influencing the role of religion in their lives. The argument posits that tangible solutions to political challenges diminish religious commitment, while a lack of such solutions fosters an increased reliance on religion. Drawing on a detailed analysis of events, protests, and economic conditions, the paper reveals that the perception of uncertainty can be controlled and the pursuit of tangible solutions demotes religion to a secondary role in individuals' lives. When addressing citizens' concerns during economic challenges, political repression, and societal grievances, policymakers should consider creating platforms for discussion, promoting religious tolerance, and offering practical avenues for positive change, which can be achieved through religious accommodation laws, interfaith dialogue initiatives, and religious endowments. These initiatives ease society’s broader challenge in engaging in open dialogue about the complex human response to political instability that encourages a reevaluation of how uncertainty is navigated. Introduction The periods after pivotal moments in American history, such as the September 11 attacks and the Great Depression, were marked by sharp, brief increases in church attendance as communities sought solace during troubling times. Religious communities are often the first place that people who feel like they have lost control seek refuge. Is this short-lived surge because they have found alternative solutions or because religion slowly loses its allure in the face of prolonged turmoil? Perhaps online communities provide a platform that empowers apostates to be open and therefore increases their visibility. Alternatively, escalating religious persecution and intolerance might contribute to a decline in religiosity, as individuals distance themselves from beliefs facing opposition. Yet, the root causes behind these shifts remain unclear. In this paper, I will explore the conditions under which political instability decreases religiosity. In the currents of geopolitical turmoil, economic upheaval, and rocky political transitions, one might expect religiosity to be a steadfast anchor, providing relief in uncertain times. Yet, as the Arab Spring swept across the landscapes of Egypt and Tunisia, leaving behind a trail of political transformations, the unexpected occurred: religiosity rather than standing resilient, underwent stark fluctuations. The Arab Spring marked a significant period of upheaval and change across the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region, characterized by widespread protests, demands for political reform, and calls for greater social justice. While Tunisia is often recognized as the birthplace of the Arab Spring, the movement’s mass protests and uprisings transcended national boundaries, influencing countries like Syria, Libya, Yemen, Egypt, and Bahrain, each with its unique socio-political context and grievances. In Egypt, if the period from 2012-2018 was marked by political turmoil, while the period from 2018-2021 focused on economic reforms and stability, then why did religiosity decrease during turmoil but increase during more stable times? In Tunisia, the opposite occurred; religiosity increased during periods of relatively more political instability from ongoing democratic transitions between 2018-2021 than between 2012-2018. In these two cases, fluctuations in religiosity trends were very similar over the same periods of time despite having divergent political outcomes. This is not to postulate that the essence of religion is solely a response to political instability or repression, nor does it assert that religion solely arises from a particular type of uncertainty. Rather, it underscores that within the realm of political instability, a condition that inherently diminishes religious commitment is a type of uncertainty that invites competitive resolutions that take precedence over religious avenues. Despite fluctuations in non-religiosity within a specific sub-group of the Egyptian population over the past decade, it has not exceeded 25%. Consequently, religion consistently maintains a primary role in the lives of the majority within this subset, highlighting its enduring significance and resilience amidst societal changes. My central thesis posits that when individuals are confronted with tangible solutions to alleviate the challenges that they attribute to their political instability, this set of solutions will take precedence over religious commitment. Religious commitment increases when individuals do not have access to these solutions and feel disillusioned by the future. Their perception of the future is important here, and I will discuss in these cases how these perceptions emerge and are sustained during political instability. Consequently, religion assumes a secondary role in individuals’ lives as it is outcompeted by alternative solutions that best alleviate their uncertainties. One secondary argument entails that overall trends of secularization, driven by societal shifts toward modernization, play a central role in diminishing religiosity. As societies modernize and prioritize democratic values, religious influence tends to decline. This argument suggests that broader secularization, marked by the declining significance of religion in public and private spheres, has an impact on individual piety. An alternative argument delves into the role of political Islam during periods of political instability. It suggests that individuals may attribute their political and economic grievances to religious frameworks, especially when political actors weaponize religion for political gains. This attribution may lead to a decline in religious commitment as people scrutinize religion's involvement in political decisions and its consequential impact on their daily lives. This paper will be structured as follows: First, I will discern the type of political instability I will examine. I will explore the types of uncertainties that come with political instability, and how uncertainty is tied to religious commitment. Then, I will showcase what happens to the role of religion when individuals perceive particular types of uncertainty to be present. Finally, I will introduce my cases of Egypt and Tunisia following the Arab Spring and explore how my proposed conditions of political instability are present in both despite their divergent transitions and outcomes. Theory Political instability exhibits diverse characteristics in terms of duration and intensity, ranging from brief upheavals to prolonged disruptions. My focus extends beyond a general assessment of political instability, emphasizing instances of uncertainty directly impacting citizens' daily lives and their perception of the world around them. This perception has cascading effects on how the role of religion is viewed, so I seek to analyze the relationship between individuals' perception of uncertainty with their resulting course of action and religious commitment. Religion, despite being an ancient phenomenon, can also be a psychological response to uncertainty and turbulent times. Religiosity is measured by attitudes toward religious practices, frequency of worship, and overall belief in God. When religion is tied to self-identity, changes within the political sphere are least impactful on individuals’ religiosity. In Lebanon, for example, individuals tend to identify with their religious and ethnic identities before an overarching national identity. In countries where people prioritize nationalism, ethnic divisions, and plurality of religion, the secondary nature of religion in everyday life makes it more susceptible to change in response to changes in the political sphere such as regime change, citizen repression, economic hardship, and military and police brutality. For instance, in Turkey, there are reports of decreased religiosity among youth and even self-reported accounts of hijabi women who wear the hijab in the public eye, but have said to have already “left Islam.” The Republic of Turkey—whose founding father, Ataturk, had revolutionized Turkey as a “modern” state, adopted a Latin alphabet in place of Ottoman Turkish, and removed religion in state affairs—has consequently experienced decades of secularization. Now, with President Erodgan, Turkish society reaches a crossroads with religion and secularization; as Erdogan increases the role of Islam in politics, such as reducing interest rates because “Islam demands it” while inflation increases. As a result, Turkish citizens attribute their economic challenges to religion. While religion may not be the direct cause of these difficulties, the deliberate political weaponization of Islam can contribute to this perception among the population. I postulate that there are two types of uncertainty: controlled uncertainty and random uncertainty. Under controlled uncertainty, individuals have an optimistic outlook that they have the power and agency to pursue tangible courses of action to relieve their uncertainties. In contrast, under random uncertainty, individuals have the pessimistic outlook that their uncertainties are beyond their control. This perception is coupled with a sense of disillusionment regarding the future. In Israel, for example, women responded to random uncertainty by participating in palm recitation to better cope with the uncertain conditions of the Second Intifada and the threat of terror. They inhibited both an absence of control over their uncertain circumstances and disillusionment with the future, which increased their reliance on rituals as a coping mechanism. Trauma is particularly powerful in identity formation, as it brings out what attributes and experiences individuals have in common. While existing research suggests that instability can heighten individuals' religious commitment by reminding them of their shared religious beliefs, this study aims to delve deeper by considering not just the presence of instability, but also its nature and activity. The activity of instability (e.g. living in a constant state of poverty vs. experiencing escalating instability) determines the type of uncertainty individuals perceive of their circumstances. When faced with controlled uncertainty, where the level of instability remains relatively stable, individuals may rely more on their religious beliefs as a source of solace and guidance. However, in situations of escalating instability, where uncertainty intensifies over time, individuals may be more inclined to explore alternative solutions beyond religion to address immediate challenges brought about by political instability. "The consequential secondary role of religion is supported by the notion of secular competition—when economic opportunities or social norms conflict with religious obligations—that individuals face when considering alternative solutions. For instance, during the Great Depression, as conditions worsened, many Americans cataloged the failures of capitalism and voluntarism, emphasizing citizens’ basic responsibilities to one another. Even conservative religious leaders began to join social workers and hungry Americans in calling for more vigorous federal intervention as they faced the suffering before them and their own inability to alleviate it. Their efforts took off in the summer of 1932, when tens of thousands of out-of-work World War I veterans and their families marched to Washington, DC to demand early payment of promised service bonuses. Yet as the federal government extended its place in Americans’ daily lives, leaders of some religious institutions feared for their own status. This historical example illustrates how under conditions of political instability, individuals may perceive a sense of control over their uncertain situation and may prioritize tangible courses of action over religious commitment due to the perceived favorability of the outcomes they desire." To determine, then, the conditions under which political instability decreases religiosity, I argue that when individuals face controlled uncertainty, their reliance on religion becomes secondary as alternative solutions with the potential for immediate favorable outcomes take precedence, but random uncertainty results in the increase in religiosity that many might predict. The cases of Tunisia and Egypt offer valuable insights into the dynamics between political instability, tangible actions, and the evolving role of religion under political instability. Case of Tunisia: Controlled Uncertainty In the case of Tunisia, the Arab Spring catalyzed in December 17, 2010 when Mohamed Bouazizi, a 26-year-old street vendor in the impoverished city of Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia, self-immolated. This came after market inspectors confiscated some of Bouazizi’s wares, claiming that he lacked the necessary permit. Bouazizi’s suicide was the result of desperation rather than symbolizing a political cause, though it was publicly interpreted as an act of protest. Several reward systems were activated after Bouazizi's suicide. Bouazizi was considered as a "hero for Tunisians and the Arab world as a whole" by Tunisian film directors, assumed a martyr by the Progressive Democratic Party (PDP) of Tunisia, and named TIME magazine’s person of the year in 2011. The publicized suicide of Bouazizi made many people in similar situations believe that suicide was an appropriate action for them as well. Bouazizi was a university graduate distraught with the inability to financially support his mother and siblings, reflecting the vast majority of Tunisians experiencing soaring rates of unemployment. In 2009, the overall unemployment rate in Tunisia was 13.3%, but 30% among Tunisia's youth, who made up almost a third of the total population. The Tunisian government decreased expenditures from 45% to 29% from the 1970s to the 1990s, lowering the quality of public goods and services. Hence, Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, president of Tunisia from 1987 to 2011, along with his family and other elites, created and strengthened the inner circle of cronyism—political elites appropriating economic resources and creating privileges by preventing outsiders. Controlling half the country’s wealth, the enterprises they owned produced 3% of total output and employed only 1% of the labor force. In addition, Ben Ali never allowed genuine political opposition to emerge and elections were manipulated: In 1989, he supposedly garnered 99.3% of the vote; in 1994, 99.9% and five years later, 99.4%. Political opponents — in particular Islamists— were persecuted, tortured or forced into exile. Tunisia's press was censored. According to the theory of suicide proposed by French sociologist Emile Durkheim, Bouazizi's self-immolation would be best categorized as anomic suicide. This type of suicide occurs when individuals experience a chronic state of societal disorganization, where traditional sources of regulation, such as religion and government, fail to provide moral constraints in the face of an unregulated capitalist economy. Anomic suicide is often associated with a sense of disillusionment about the future, leading individuals to see self-infliction as a way out. It's important to note that self-immolation directly contravenes Islamic law, as the Quran prohibits harm to oneself. Therefore, Bouazizi’s act can be viewed as a poignant illustration of the prioritization of social circumstances over religious beliefs. Despite the religious prohibition, Bouazizi saw self-immolation as a desperate means to escape his dire socio-economic situation. This conflict between religious doctrine and the perceived urgency of his socio-economic plight highlights how individuals may prioritize immediate material concerns over religious commitments. After years of severe economic hardship, during which most Tunisians were struggling to survive while President Ben Ali’s family, friends, and allies were getting richer, Bouazizi’s self-immolation marked the tipping point. Tunisians began to protest. Tensions heightened on December 22nd when another young man from Sidi Bouzid climbed up an electricity pylon and electrocuted himself on the cables, saying he was fed up with being unemployed. The new wave of strikes first erupted on December 17th in Sidi Bouzid, and came after the labor unions announced that they would organize peaceful marches to urge the government to improve its performance in development and employment. A few days later, a teenager was killed when police in Sidi Bouzid opened fire on protesters. An interior ministry spokesperson said police had been forced to "shoot in self-defense" from protesters who were setting police cars and buildings ablaze. The Tunisian government had been trying to manage the crisis politically before using force and the Tunisian development minister traveled to Sidi Bouzid to announce a new $10m employment program. The Tunisian government’s concessions—often met with skepticism on its sincerity and implementation—were a response to the resilience and violence of the crisis, showing Tunisians that the government was reacting to their demands rather than solely resorting to violence. This instilled hope in Tunisians regarding the positive trajectory of their protests. Despite protests, the rich were getting richer, the poor were not only getting poorer, but also had no job prospects, no ability to express themselves, and no way of criticizing government policy. The protests that erupted in Sidi Bouzid were spontaneous, yet they were marked by a level of organization and sophistication that appeared grounded in the sheer determination of those who participated in them. Tunisians faced a more costly and risky path due to being the first country to protest, unlike Egyptians who benefited from the momentum generated in Tunisia. The cost of cronyism and corruption to Tunisia is much higher because it also hinders job creation and investment and contributes to social exclusion. The presence of cronyism exacerbates the costs of protest by increasing repression, legal and financial consequences, social stigmatization, and psychological toll for protesters. The fear of retaliation from security forces was high, and protesting carried significant risks, including arrest, torture, and disappearance. For Tunisians, the standard method of expressing dissent has been informally within the party framework, but the masses participate in riots and demonstrations. The first president of Tunisia, Habib Bourguiba (1957-1987), carefully appointed members of the political elite and removed them from office in such a way as to prevent anyone from building up a political base to keep factions to a minimum. The Tunisian economy was heavily centralized around the ruling elite and suffered from widespread corruption and cronyism. Economic grievances were a major driver of the Tunisian uprising, and many protesters were motivated by frustrations with unemployment, poverty, and lack of economic opportunities. The economic challenges faced by Tunisians may have increased the perceived costs of protesting, as individuals risked losing their livelihoods or facing economic hardships as a result of participating in protests. In Tunisia, the uprising was driven by a broad-based coalition of activists, students, workers, and ordinary citizens who came together to demand change. Solidarity among protesters helped to mitigate some of the risks associated with protesting by providing emotional support, practical assistance, and collective action. From this, it is clear that Tunisians perceived their uncertainties as resolvable through risky actions, therefore partaking in actions that would immediately relieve their grievances rather than remaining disillusioned with their future, which ultimately decreased their religiosity during this period. On January 13, 2011, Ben Ali appeared on national television and made broad concessions to the opposition, promising not to seek reelection as president when his term would end in 2014. He expressed regret over the deaths of protesters and vowed to order police to stop using live fire except in self-defense. Addressing some of the protesters’ grievances, he said he would reduce food prices and loosen restrictions on Internet use. Ben Ali’s concessions did not satisfy the protesters, who continued to clash with security forces, resulting in several deaths. The next day, a state of emergency was declared, and Tunisian state media reported that the government had been dissolved, Ben Ali fled Tunisia, and that legislative elections would be held in the next six months. Ben Ali’s reign from 1987-2011 had ended and Prime Minister Mohammed Ghannouchi, appointed by Ben Ali in 1999, assumed power. The aftermath of Ben Ali's departure marked a significant moment for Tunisia, as protests persisted despite the regime change. Protesters had gathered in the area to demand that the interim government step down and the current parliament be disbanded. Demonstrators were also asking for suspension of the current constitution and the election of an assembly that can write a new one, as well as organize the transition to democracy. There were daily protests that members of Ben Ali's Democratic Constitutional Rally (RCD) party were in the new government and thousands of largely peaceful anti-RCD protests emerged.36 After persistent clashes between protesters and armed forces, Ghannouchi announced his resignation particularly following the death of three people in the country's capital, Tunis: “I am resigning today because I am not willing to be a person that takes decisions that could cause casualties," he told reporters Sunday. He also questioned "why a lot of people considered their main target to keep attacking the government, although a lot of its members agreed to join in this critical time." Ghannouchi’s resignation can be seen as a tangible outcome of the protesters' efforts. It signifies that their voices were heard and that their actions had a direct impact on the political landscape. Ghannouchi's acknowledgment of the need to avoid decisions that could cause casualties reflects a recognition of the legitimacy of the protesters' grievances and a commitment to avoiding further violence. Bouazizi's actions were instrumental in differentiating between controlled uncertainty and random uncertainty, providing Tunisians with a tangible catalyst that transformed disillusionment into proactive engagement with the future. Role of Religion Becomes Secondary As people sought to find concrete control over uncertain circumstances amid political instability, their dedication to religious beliefs weakened. Involvement in organized protests, the confrontation of severe repression, and the navigation of severe economic hardships became the focal points of their attention, demoting religious commitment to a secondary position. In 2012, the Pew Research Center surveyed Tunisians and found that though democratic principles were high priorities, as were the economy and security. 92% said that improving the economy ranked as the most important priority while 79% said that it was very important to maintain law and order. Also, people found democratic freedoms more important than religious divisions. This shows that Tunisians found these economic and democratic principles to take precedence over other grievances they faced. In this time period, a perceived resolution for these priority issues was through civil resistance, demonstrations, general strikes, and self-immolations, that were leading to visible outcomes and relieving uncertainty in a way that religion was not. Outside the party system, Tunisians became politically active, especially Tunisian women, who protested the draft constitution, the economy, and the ruling coalition. Within this political context of newly found political liberalizations, similar to Egypt, various religious groups started coming out of the underground in order to take advantage of the political openings. As these political openings were prioritized, trust in religious leaders went down from 38% to 35% between 2012 and 2018 and those who say they are not religious increased from 18% in 2012 to 30% in 2018. Tunisian Muslims that attend mosques at least some of the time decreased from 52% in 2012 to 30% in 2018. Tunisia’s troubled economy was the biggest challenge in 2017. The national unity government took some measures to stimulate growth, but it struggled to implement key reforms. High unemployment, a rising inflation rate, and tax increases plagued Tunisians. In January 2018, protests erupted in more than a dozen cities over price hikes. This further emphasizes the continued prioritization of addressing economic challenges by the Tunisian people. Secularization In Tunisia, the decades of Ben Ali’s secular regime had excluded religion from the public sphere. Its cascading effects have led Tunisia to have notably lower religiosity than other Middle East and North Africa (MENA) countries with the proportion of people who said they were not religious increasing from 15% in 2013 to over 30% in 2018. The ousting of Ben Ali created political opportunities for Islamists, yet the secularizing impact of his two-decade-long regime remains a compelling explanation for the decline in religiosity between 2012-2018. Following the dissolution and drafting of a new constitution in October 2011, Tunisia no longer enforced secularism through repression. Surveillance, restriction, and harassment of Islamist activists that were previously practiced by the government ceased during the year. The new draft gave rise to Islamists to fight for power. In the months that followed the 2010-2011 revolution, several hundred imams were replaced, often by violent Islamists who accused the imams of having collaborated with the former Ben Ali regime. By October 2011, the Ministry of Religious Affairs announced that it had lost control of about 400 mosques. 6 The “uncontrolled” classification means that a mosque’s imams were operating without the official authorization of the Ministry of Religious Affairs. In Tunisia’s new political landscape, the content of prayer services was also no longer controlled by government authorities, a step many Tunisians approved of and viewed as part of the new liberties acquired through the revolution. In 2014, secular parties edged out Islamists at the polls. In the October parliamentary elections, Nidaa Tounes, a secularist political party, won 85 seats compared to 69 for Ennahda, an Islamist political party. Veteran politician Mohamed Beji Caid Essebsi, the head of Nidaa Tounes and a former prime minister, was elected president in December. But turnout was lowest among the young, who ignited the Arab uprisings; among cities, the turnout was lowest in Sidi Bouzid, the birthplace of the uprisings that spread across the Middle East and North Africa. In 2016, Nidaa Tounes, the ruling secular party in Parliament, splintered. Ennahda founder Rachid Ghannouchi declared the Islamist party was abandoning political Islam. Amidst competition between Islamist and secular parties, when asked whether Turkey or Saudi Arabia is a better model for the role of religion in Tunisia’s government, 78% of Tunisians prefer the more secular Turkey, seeing it as a model for religion and politics. While the trends toward secularization during this period seemingly impact individual piety levels, the dominant controlled uncertainty factor holds greater significance, given that secularization has not been exclusive to this period and has prevailed since the era of Ben Ali. Despite the freedom of Islamist parties to enter political life, the government’s loss of control over regulating mosques, and new liberties granted toward religious freedom, levels of non-religiosity still prevailed. Political Islam In contrast to secularization efforts during Tunisia’s political transition, the country simultaneously experienced concerted efforts from Islamists to increase the role of religion in politics. During this period, the presence of political Islam coupled with economic and political insecurities might have led individuals to deviate from religious commitments as they witnessed greedy power grabs from both Islamists and secular parties who employed religion as a political instrument. From January to October 2011, an interim government moved toward reform, recognizing new political parties and disbanding Ben Ali’s party. On October 23, Ennahda, a moderate Islamist party, won the national elections and formed a coalition government with two secular parties. Ennahda first emerged as an Islamist movement in response to repression at the hands of a secularist, authoritarian regime that denied citizens religious freedom and the rights of free expression and association. In 2014, the new constitution incorporated mentions of Islam as the religion and culture of the Tunisian people while also establishing a state role for protecting freedom of religious worship and expression. Ennahda, formerly an Islamist movement, transitioned into a party of "Muslim democrats," distancing itself from the label of "Islamism" due to negative associations with radical extremism. This shift reflects a strategic response to counter the misinterpretation and abuse of Islam by radical groups like ISIS, positioning Ennahda as a moderate political force advocating for democratic principles. Ennahda’s re-labelling as “Muslim democrats” reflects frustration with outsiders not understanding its supposedly true democratic nature which may have resulted in individuals associating their challenges with these religious changes in governance and frustration with religion being politicized. Today, Tunisians are less concerned about the role of religion than about building a governance system that is democratic and inclusive and that meets their aspirations for a better life. However, the interplay between political Islam and religiosity is tied to perceptions of uncertainty. The prevalent economic hardships—regardless of the presence of political Islam—left Tunisians uncertain about the future. In 2011, 78% of Tunisians expressed optimism that the economy would improve to some extent within the following 2-3 years. However, by 2018, this hope had significantly dwindled, with only 33% of Tunisians maintaining confidence in a better economic outlook over the same timeframe. Case of Egypt Egypt stands as a prominent example of a country profoundly affected by the events in Tunisia. The success of the Tunisian Revolution in ousting President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali provided a template for dissent, inspiring Egyptians to rise up against the longstanding rule of President Hosni Mubarak. The images and narratives of Tunisian protesters challenging authoritarianism and demanding change resonated with Egyptians, fueling their own aspirations for political reform and social justice. In Egypt, decades of corruption, police brutality, media censorship, unemployment, and inflation led labor and youth activists, feminists, and individual members of the Muslim Brotherhood to protest. From the occupation of downtown Cairo’s Tahrir Square, to labor strikes, acts of civil disobedience, clashes with armed forces, and others, violence between protestors and the police resulted in hundreds of deaths and thousands of injuries. The wave of organized protests gained momentum following the oustings of Presidents Hosni Mubarak and Mohamed Morsi in 2011 and 2013, respectively. These pivotal events demonstrated to Egyptians that mass mobilization could be an effective means of addressing the longstanding issues they had endured. Despite Mubarak's lengthy rule from 1981 until his departure in 2011, previous protests had proven ineffective in leading to his resignation. However, the timely catalyst provided by Tunisia's Revolution ignited a sense of urgency among Egyptians, inspiring them to seize upon the pan-Arabist phenomenon sweeping the region. This newfound determination empowered Egyptians to confront their decades-long grievances head-on. Egyptians, seeking an immediate end to enduring abuse and corruption, embraced large, organized protests despite harsh governmental crackdown and threats of death. Their perception of the uncertainty faced during this period appeared to be remedied by protests and political changes, thereby diminishing the role of religion to a secondary position. The Egyptian case took advantage of the momentum that the Tunisian revolution brought, making it unique to examine the intricate relationship between their resistance and the decline in religious commitment, challenging the notion that religious avenues are the primary recourse during times of political instability. Controlled Uncertainty Egypt has been an authoritarian government since 1952 with periodic revolts and unrest. The causes of the 2011 protests against Mubarak also existed in 1952, when the Free Officers, who led the Egyptian Revolution of 1952, ousted King Farouk. Issues such as inherited power, corruption, under-development, unemployment, and unfair distribution of wealth have persisted as constants in Egyptian life since 1952. Successive Egyptian regimes have systematically used repression to ensure order. The authoritarian barter “bread and security for freedom” has been widely disseminated along with the notion that the country was not yet ready for democracy. Egypt has long grappled with a systemic pattern of human rights abuses and repression embedded in its governance, prompting citizens to attribute their crises directly to the government. While these challenges have persisted since 1952, worsening economic conditions, government corruption, and Mubarak’s rule, coupled with the influence of the Arab Spring ignited by the events in Tunisia, led Egyptians to unite in similar protests in 2011. The momentum from Tunisia became a catalyst, empowering Egyptians to engage in hands-on initiatives challenging Mubarak’s authoritarian government. President Hosni Mubarak's regime was also repressive, but opposition groups had more space for political activism compared to Tunisia, which lacked a traditional history of political dissent. Mubarak’s regime escalated violence against protesters significantly as protests enlarged with the anticipation of Mubarak’s resignation. Pro-Mubarak demonstrators targeted journalists, and, in what became known as the “Battle of the Camel," plainclothes policemen rode into Tahrir Square on camels and horses to attack unarmed protesters. The issuing of laws restricting public assembly allowed security officials to ban protests up to their discretion and were consequently allowed to use indiscriminate force on defying protestors. Egyptians mobilized protests in diverse ways and when they were repressed through laws restricting public assembly or with increasingly violent police responses, organized protests grew larger and more inflamed. Messages were picked out in stones and plastic tea cups, graffiti, newspapers and leaflets, and al-Jazeera's TV cameras which broadcast hours of live footage from the square everyday. When one channel of communication was blocked, people tried another. Mubarak had grown fearful of the protestors’ relentlessness—first pledging to form a new government, then promising not to seek another term in the next elections, and later becoming increasingly defiant about not stepping down—all the while asking protesters to return to normal. Eventually, Mubarak was forced to step down and the Supreme Council of Egyptian Armed Forces (SCAF) assumed leadership of the country on February 11, 2011. Protests still endured; during March and April 2011, SCAF granted a number of concessions to protesters’ demands in an effort to clear the streets of continued demonstrations. Human Rights Abuses Mubarak’s regime initially responded to the protests with brute force and tear gas, beating and arresting protesters. The regime responded to later increases in protest mobilization by shutting down internet service and mobile phone text messages, replacing regular police forces with the military, and imposing a curfew. This exemplifies a cycle of human rights abuses that not only heightened violent responses but also fueled additional protests, as Egyptians became increasingly outraged. Egyptians faced constant repression and abuse for decades under Mubarak’s rule, and used religious commitment as a coping mechanism before Tunisia catalyzed the Arab Spring, bringing newfound hope that Egyptians could better their circumstances. Since 2013, the military and security-led regime has reinstated its control over society and citizens with an iron fist, curtailing freedom of information and banning freedom of expression. Peaceful political participation and civil society activism, which were the pillars of the January uprising, have been de facto outlawed by the adoption of an arsenal of undemocratically spirited and restrictive laws. Protesting was costly and these laws banning public assembly made it much more risky for Egyptians to participate in protests, but the momentum of the revolution had assured individuals that there would be large turnouts, therefore bolstering their confidence in protesting as a means to confront the military and security-led regime. Egyptians, fueled by the momentum of their revolution and triggered by the ousting of Mubarak and Morsi, found empowerment in protesting. The logical nature of their efforts heightened hope for the future, as each overthrow or victory seemed to validate their path to stability. The move against Morsi deepened the political schism. Millions of Egyptians had taken to the streets against Morsi, but large numbers also protested the ousting of Morsi. A crackdown by security forces killed hundreds and Egypt declared a state of emergency. The emergency measures allowed security forces to detain people indefinitely for virtually any reason. They also granted broad powers to restrict public gatherings and media freedom. Gallup classifies respondents as thriving, struggling, or suffering, according to how they rate their current and future lives on a ladder scale numbered from 0 to 10 based on the Cantril Self-Anchoring Striving Scale. Egyptians gave their lives some of the worst ratings they ever have in the weeks leading up to former President Mohamed Morsi's removal from office. The 34% of Egyptians who rated their lives poorly enough to be considered suffering in June was up from 23% in January. Fewer than one in 10 rated their lives positively enough to be considered thriving. Role of Religion Becomes Secondary Fridays frequently became “days of rage” in Egypt and elsewhere because of the convenience of organizing would-be protesters during Friday prayers. Likewise, mosques themselves are often said to have served as organizational hubs for protest. Mosques functioned as a locus of anti-government agitation and logistical centers of preparation for demonstrations. While it may seem that protest activities at mosques contributed to an apparent increase in mosque attendance, thus suggesting elevated overall religious commitment, these places of worship primarily assumed roles as organizational centers during the peak of the protests, prioritizing logistics over prayer and religious services. Although, of course, mosques and Friday services were still attended for customary reasons, the dual functionality of the mosque introduced secular competition as highlighted earlier in the Theory section. Individuals are confronted with the dilemma of choosing between prayer and protest. Protest is a costly behavior that becomes progressively less risky as the number of participants increases. Hence, overall Mosque participation during the height of mass protests between the overthrow of Mubarak in 2011 to the beginning of El-Sisi’s presidency in 2014, declined. Prior to the Arab Spring, strength in religious beliefs were at high levels: the belief that things would be better if there were more people with strong religious beliefs decreased from 89.8% in 2005 to 83.4% in 2013. Additionally, the percentage of individuals with the belief that religious faith is an important quality in children decreased from 47.1% in 2005 to 27.7% in 2013. Muslims who say they attend the mosque at least some of the time decreased from around 85% in 2012-2014 to 75% in 2018-2019. Secularization In Egypt, as the regime experienced waves of regime changes and upheavals, the period between 2012-2016 witnessed efforts toward constitutional reform emphasizing the protection of civil liberties, the separation of powers, and the establishment of a democratic system of government. While Islam remained the state religion, the constitution also guaranteed freedom of religion and prohibited discrimination based on religion. The constitutional assembly was almost entirely composed of Islamists (Muslim Brothers, Salafis, and independent Islamists). Dozens of articles addressed individual rights and liberties of Egyptian citizens, which was more than the number of articles mentioning Islam. By enshrining these goals in the constitution, the government was held accountable, making failure to fulfill its constitutional obligations not just an act of inefficiency but anti-constitutional. Examples include Article 61, which demands to eradicate illiteracy within ten years; Article 66, which requires the state to provide opportunities for sports and physical exercise; and Article 184, which instructs the state to assimilate living standards across the country. While Islamist groups participated in the drafting of the constitution, the outcome reflected a broader commitment to democratic principles and social reforms driven by the demands of the people. In 2013, Abdel Fattah el-Sisi ousted Morsi and campaigned for the presidency on an anti-Islamist platform. He deemed the Muslim Brotherhood a terrorist organization, imposing restrictions on their operations and political activities. Liberals called the Brotherhood’s vision for Egypt “totally contradictory with the Egyptian national character,” which they argued respected pluralism of religion and the separation of religion and politics. The banning of the Muslim Brotherhood has likely contributed to the loss of faith in Islamist parties. El-Sisi also claimed that ‘the religious discourse in the Islamic World has lost the values of humanity in Islam’ and rejected the idea of an Islamic state. When he won the presidency in 2014, many moderate Muslims supported El-Sisi because he had taken a clear stand against Islamist radicalism and expressed a genuine desire to support a peaceful understanding of Islam. And in 2018, when El-Sisi ran again, he was re-elected with 97 percent of the vote, although the turnout was low and he faced virtually no competition. The crackdown against human rights defenders and independent rights organizations have made effective monitoring of the elections extremely difficult, especially with the number of organizations that were granted permission to monitor the elections being 44 percent fewer than in the last presidential election in 2014. This has resulted in elections facing criticism for not meeting the standards of a free and fair democratic process. This can also suggest that through negative partisanship, or the phenomenon of individuals forming their political opinions based on their opposition to certain individuals or parties, people viewed El-Sisi as either the best among limited options or endorsed his secularization efforts. Political Islam When governments weaponize a religion that the majority of their populations affiliate with, it is reasonable to link political Islam and individual piety to assert that piety levels and overall religiosity may decrease. This is a competitive argument because perceptions of Islam are directly shaped by how their governments implement Islamic laws, often at the expense of neglecting the needs of the people. Individuals are increasingly witnessing religion being wielded as a political tool. On one hand, they are promised welfare services in the name of Islam, while on the other hand, their repression is justified through the manipulation of Islamic texts. While El-Sisi initially presented himself as anti-Islamist, appearing on stage with the Coptic Pope, the Sheikh of Al-Azhar (the country's most esteemed institution of Islamic learning), and Galal al-Murra, a prominent Salafist, following the overthrow of President Mohamed Morsi, he privately holds conservative Islamic views. In A 2006 paper that Sisi wrote for the U.S. Army War College, he argued that democracy in the Middle East could only be of an Islamic nature, and that Islam provides the intellectual framework for his political beliefs. In addition, in 2011, when crowds protested against the military for imposing “virginity tests” on female protesters, Sisi declared that it was his responsibility to “decide if [protesters] were honorable.” However, the fluctuating influences of political Islam in Egypt between 2012-2018 indicate that it is not a strong enough condition on its own for political instability to decrease religiosity. Even the most liberal Egyptian party in 2012, the Free Egyptians Party, publicly defended a constitutional clause making the principles of Sharia the source of legislation. Even when the dominant strategy of the incumbent government was to combat political Islam—as has been the case since July 2013—the formal discourse of President El-Sisi included frequent mentions of the Qur'an and Hadith.33 The Muslim Brotherhood witnessed a consistent rise in support from July 2011 to February 2012 at 63%, followed by a sharp decline in April 2012 to 42%. Prior to the Brotherhood’s rise to power, many believed that its political inclusion would lead to its democratization and moderation. Throughout the eighteen days of demonstrations in January and February 2011 that toppled Mubarak, Brotherhood leaders were aware that the protests were not dominated by Islamist ideas but rather oriented toward the broad goals of freedom and social justice. As a result, Brotherhood leaders were deliberate in their strategies to appeal to voters by not expressing their Islamist views too overtly. This deception was caught on by Egyptians. Nevertheless, between 2011 and 2013, the old state chose to cooperate with Islamists, including the Brotherhood, to neutralize the revolutionary mood in the country. After coming to power, the Brotherhood quickly lost support among the main recipients of its social welfare network: the poor. The Brotherhood’s relationship with the poor was entirely clientelist and was concerned exclusively with creating an electoral base as opposed to developing a more substantive ideological or political relationship. It preferred to reproduce poverty as long as it translated into welfare recipients and, by extension, loyal voters. However, the strength of the argument that the presence of political Islam decreases religiosity diminishes when considering the current scenario, where political Islam exerts even more influence, and yet, religiosity has increased. This discrepancy suggests that the dynamics between political Islam and religiosity are subject to evolving perceptions of uncertainty. During the height of the revolution, Egyptians may have perceived their uncertainties about the future differently, driven by a sense of optimism and the belief in activism. In contrast, the present disillusionment with uncertainties about the future may be contributing to an enhanced role of religion in their lives. The increased religiosity could be a response to the perceived inadequacy of political solutions to address current challenges, prompting individuals to turn to religion as a source of guidance in times of persistent uncertainty. Conclusion I have posited that the conditions of political instability that decrease religiosity are controlled uncertainty and the secondary role of religion. When individuals are presented with concrete solutions to address challenges they attribute to their political circumstances, these solutions will assume greater significance than religious commitment. And when individuals lack access to these tangible solutions and experience disillusionment about the future, religious commitment tends to increase. The pivotal factor in this dynamic is individuals' perception of the future, and this analysis delved into how these perceptions manifested and endured during periods of political instability. Consequently, the outcome is a demotion of religion to a secondary role in individuals' lives, outcompeted by favorable solutions that emerge from the uncertainties they face. It's noteworthy that Egypt has faced challenges since the Mubarak regime, raising concerns about the possibility of a new Arab Spring. Despite the ongoing deterioration of human rights conditions, the intensity that characterized the Arab Spring has diminished. Reflecting on the revolution has yielded diverse opinions, with some viewing it as a success while others perceiving it as a failure. Although repression in Egypt may arguably be more severe today, the period between 2011 and 2016 marked a distinct phase. The ongoing debates surrounding the success or failure of the initial Arab Spring make it seem improbable for a similar movement to occur. Despite the immediate changes following the revolution, both Egypt and Tunisia continue to grapple with longstanding grievances. Tunisia, in particular, is confronted with economic challenges, with approximately 6,000 Tunisians joining ISIS, marking the highest per capita rate globally. Tunisians became disillusioned with post-revolution politics, especially well-educated youths, who experienced unemployment at extremely high rates. Despite the gradual political progress seen over the past seven years, economic rewards have yet to emerge, spurring some to radicalize. Some remaining questions that emerge are: Do individuals revert to heightened religious commitment after resolving political instability, or does the influence of tangible solutions have a lasting impact on their religious commitment? 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Author Name < Back Editorial Board Foreword Tianyu Zhou & Juno Tantipipatpong “And did we not agree that the excellence or virtue of soul is justice and its defect injustice?" In this issue, we welcomed articles that centered around the theme of “political theory as a vehicle of social change.” We’ll first introduce the thematic logic and then proceed with a brief summary of articles. Can PPE theories serve as a vehicle for social change? Since the Axial Age (8th - 3rd century BCE), Vergeistigung , or spiritu- alization of the human mind, was complete among major world civilizations. Based on “rationality and rationally-clarified expe- riences,” humans began to question the current state of affairs, and political theories thus became a preoccupation for the pro- lific minds, not only as a description of how societies and polities are , but as a prescription of what they should become. The Socra- tic inquiries and Plato’s Republic were remarkable in defining, for the first time in the Western tradition, the role of a philosopher in society and polity–that is, to seek justice. Economics as a sci- entific matter emerged as a normative subject on how society may improve by scientific means. Important studies of how PPE theories may serve as a ve- hicle of social change first emerged in the 1920s. In his book, Crystallizing Public Opinion , Edward Bernays proposed a theory that took the “public opinion” of political economic matters as the problematik . The study demonstrated the effect of news and factual information on society are a function of the channels through which they were transmitted. As Bernays himself put, “[the] public relations counsel must lift startling facts from his whole subject and present them as news. He must isolate ideas and develop them into events so that they can be more readily understood and so that they may claim attention as news.” The tension caused by the question of how the logical and evidential basis of ideas may best correspond to their effects on society has haunted intellectuals ever since. The human rights theorists, Marxists, a number of political economists and the New Leftist intellectuals, and many scholars who began such inquiries in the aftermath of the Vietnam War have proposed various theories. In our current issue, authors have discussed topics of vital import in a wide range of fields, from the study of the ethics of ignorance to gender and sexual consent, from political ideology and public discourse to the politics of secularization and religi- osity, and from economic disruption to the meaning of work. We believe these issues are best examined through the lenses of philosophy, politics, and economics jointly. Through our pieces, we wish to illuminate both the diversity of thoughts and advise reflection on how readers might use this knowledge to improve the social conditions. References [1] Plat. Rep. 1.353e, “ἡ μἡν ἡρα δικαία ψυχἡ καἡ ἡ δίκαιος ἡνἡρ εἡ βιώσεται, κακἡς δἡ ἡ ἡδικος”. [2] Jaspers, K. (2017). Vom Ursprung und Ziel der Geschichte (K. Salamun, Ed.). Schwabe Verlag. https://doi. org/10.24894/978-3-7965-4059-2.Recommended translation is Jaspers, K. (2021). The Origin and Goal of History (C. Thornhill, Ed.; 1st ed.). Routledge. https://www.routledge.com/The-Origin-and-Goal-of-History/Jaspers/p/book/9780367679859 [3] “[die] Rationalität und [die] rational [geklärte] Erfahrung (der Logos gegen den Mythos)”. [4] Brown, E. (2017). Plato’s Ethics and Politics in The Republic. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall 2017 Edition). https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/plato-ethics-politics/#Rel. [5] Samuels, W. J., Biddle, Jeff., & Davis, J. Bryan. (Eds.). (2003). A Companion to the History of Economic Thought (1st ed.). Blackwell. https://www.wiley.com/en-us/A+Companion+to+the+History+of+Eco- nomic+Thought-p-9780631225737. [6] Bernays, E. L. (1923). Crystallizing Public Opinion . Liveright Publishing. [7] I.e., Vilfredo Pareto and Antonio Gramsci, Quaderni del carcere. Serious scholars of Marxian thought and its history are referred to Kołakowski, Leszek. (1981). Main Currents of Marxism: The Founders, The Golden Age, The Breakdown (P. S. Falla, Ed.; Revised). W.W. Norton & Co. https:// wwnorton.com/books/Main-Currents-of-Marxism/.On human rights, see Jean Quataert, & Lora Wildenthal (Eds.). (2021). Routledge History of Human Rights (1st ed.). Routledge. https://www.routledge.com/The-Routledge-History-of-Human-Rights/Quataert-Wildenthal/p/ book/9781032089669.8 [8] On politics, see T. Ball & R. Bellamy (Eds.), The Cambridge History of Twentieth-Century Political Thought (1st ed.). Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/CHOL9780521563543 On economic thought, see The Cambridge History of Philosophy, 1945–2015. (2019). In K. Becker & I. D. Thomson (Eds.), The Cambridge History of Philosophy , 1945-2015 (1st ed.). Cambridge University Press. https:// doi.org/10.1017/9781316779651.

Editorial board Foreword Volume I Issue I Introducing the inaugural issue of JPPE The ambition to start an international, interdisciplinary, academic journal of philosophy, politics, and economics was one that emerged as much as a consequence of a desire to take a new approach to undergraduate scholarship as it was motivated by an affinity for an old idea: ‘philosophy, politics, and economics’ (PPE). PPE is famously a product of the University of Oxford, which, in the 1920s, began to amalgamate the three disciplines into a single degree that could provide a strong, yet broad foundation for future policymakers. And in this regard, the program succeeded. Many major British politicians and public figures—from the Labour Party’s Ed Miliband to Former Prime Minister David Cameron to Christopher Hitchens—studied PPE at Oxford. It is important when considering the emergence of PPE, however, to recall the relative radicalism of the concept at the historical time period in which it emerged. Just as the Russian Revolution came to a close and the First World War left Europe devastated, the United Kingdom began to experience high unemployment. It was in this context of political strife, growing inequality, and seemingly insurmountable threats to global peace and human livelihoods that PPE emerged as a concept that could help spur the thoughtful ethical, political, and economic decisions that might affect positive change. And yet, despite the success of Oxford’s PPE program and the stunning propensity of the program’s top graduates to take seat in British Parliament today, it has not crossed the Atlantic to achieve the same popularity. Much of this is a consequence of a particularly English affinity for generalists; however, whatever the reason, this Journal holds that the failure for PPE to take off in the United States has been a shame. Though PPE has been criticized at times as an academic experience that produces broad knowledge as opposed to deep knowledge, the interdisciplinary program is, at its core, the single most effective tool to analyze modern circumstance as a social scientist. Brown University, to its credit, has seen nascent developments in PPE programming. Every year, students look to pursue Independent Concentrations that mimic Oxford’s program, and the Philosophy, Politics, and Economics Society, which, like this Journal, is sponsored by the Political Theory Project, highlights this growing trend. We created the Brown University Journal of Philosophy, Politics, and Economics to encourage the growth in PPE-related academic work on Brown’s campus and, most importantly, to provide young people with a space to debate and put forth academic arguments that can kindle the discussions that ultimately transform communities and entire democracies. In achieving in this end, our Journal dedicates itself to five guiding principles. First, we value interdisciplinary understanding. By shifting toward a more broad approach to social sciences, the debates, which are too often compartmentalized, are made more accessible and inclusive. In each issue of JPPE, we aim to highlight the best economic arguments alongside the best philosophical and political arguments. This could for instance illustrate, at once, the ways in which a discussion of the minimum wage can be understood as a question of economic efficiency and as a question of political feasibility, as well as a moral proposition that asks important questions about the permissibility of income inequality. What results from this is not a dearth of deep knowledge, but rather a broad understanding in which the sum is greater than each of its individual parts. The bold idea of this Journal stems from a belief that the lenses of philosophy, politics, and economics are not only useful to considering contemporary circumstance. They are all essential. Second, we value diversity. In order to create a space that effectively reflects the character of contemporary debate among young people, as well as the issues most motivating the next generation of leaders and thinkers, it is essential that diversity of views and backgrounds are highlighted. As a non-partisan publication, we strive to highlight a range of political arguments so long as they are rigorous, thoughtful, and conceived in good faith. And though our Journal selects submissions name-blind, we are committed to promoting an inclusive environment for all our employees, welcoming staff members regardless of ethnic origins, gender, religious beliefs, disability, sexual orientation, or age. This doesn’t just make us a more responsible organization, it makes us a better journal. Third, we value academic rigor. As an academic publication, we are committed to publishing the highest levels of student scholarship, and we require that submissions be well written, well argued, well researched, and innovative. In creating this Journal, however, our publication’s founders recognized the limits of undergraduate experience and knowledge as a means to assess the quality of scholarship. For this reason, our Journal is peer-reviewed, receiving guidance and feedback on what essays to publish from a team of over 25 eminent scholars. Fourth, we value free thinking and original arguments. Though many essays we receive are pieces that have been written for a classroom environment and thus may be confined to answer a particular array of questions in a smaller paradigm than academics might, we have been consistently impressed by the unique ideas students have put forth. It is the aim of our Journal to highlight these pieces of original analysis, which are too often tucked away into the cupboards of forgotten undergraduate work. Fifth, we value and desire to play an integral part in stimulating global leadership among young people. Though we are an academic publication, we aspire to influence discussions among undergraduates that can help spur re-evaluation, action, and change. In placing an emphasis on global leadership, we recognize that the real value of our Journal comes less through the answers our authors provide than through the discussions they encourage and the audacity of the ideas they propagate. The inaugural issue of our Journal you are now reading perfectly reflects our five guiding principles. In “A More Perfect Union”, for instance, the author encourages readers to more closely analyze the relationship between liberalism and national unity, pondering how a liberal democracy should best understand its relationship to patriotism. And in the “Latent Effects of Cannabis Legalization”, we publish original research on the criminalization of marijuana and its disproportionate effects on black communities. This edition also features pieces from two significant American leaders: Providence Mayor Jorge Elorza and Louisville Mayor Greg Fischer. Both mayors are important figures on the frontlines of local policy that seeks to make economic growth in the 21st century more inclusive and competitive, reducing the barriers to entry and ordinances that too often discourage participation in the American economy and in our democracy. We asked both mayors to highlight their achievements on this front not only as a means to highlight examples of effective local policy implementation, but also in order to more profoundly integrate the literature of future leaders with the work already being done by current leaders. We believe that all of these elements have helped us put forth a powerful combination of essays, and we hope JPPE will be a place where young people can go to consider new ideas and offer innovative solutions to addressing today’s ethical, economic, and political challenges. Our team is united by a shared love of argument, problem solving, and a deeply felt desire to help contribute to conversations that can so greatly impact livelihoods. And in a time where the world is rapidly changing, as forces like technological disruption, globalization, climate change, and political polarization threaten to vastly alter our human experience this century, young leaders will undoubtedly be called upon to develop new ideas to solve the challenges we face. JPPE aims to both facilitate and be a part of this great conversation.