Online research in philosophy

Jürgen Habermas’s discourse-theoretic reconstruction of the normative foundations of democracy assumes the formal separation of democratic political practice from the economic system. Democratic autonomy presupposes a vital public sphere protected by a complex schedule of individual rights. These rights are supposed to secure the formal and material conditions for democratic freedom. However, because Habermas argues that the economy must be left to function according to endogenous market dynamics, he accepts as a condition of democracy (the formal separation of spheres) a social structure that is in fact anti-democratic. The value of self-determination that Habermas’s theory of democracy presupposes is contradicted by the actual operations of capitalist markets. Further democratic development demands that the steering mechanisms of the capitalist market be challenged by self-organizing civic movements.

People have shared funds of sense that operate in every aspect of their lives. These complex sensibilities constitute a range of often contradictory dispositions and attunements that we can describe as sensible disorders. Further, sensibilities are available for multiple differential determinations from which the ability for self-reflection and intervention derives. 'Democratic space' is an appropriate name for the region of sensibilities. Rather than naming a grounding identity, 'democratic space' names a region without imperative, voice, or intention. Nothing that happens defines the region of determination. The paper describes a sense of democratic space that is distinguishable from other senses and points to dispositional and political aspects of that sense.

Abstract: Democracy is regularly heralded as the only form of government that treats political subjects as free and equal citizens. On closer examination, however, it becomes apparent that democracy unavoidably restricts individual freedom, and it is not the only way to treat all citizens equally. In light of these observations, we argue that the non-instrumental reasons to support democratic governance stem, not from considerations of individual freedom or equality, but instead from the importance of respecting group self-determination. If this is correct, it implies that a state may choose democracy, but its right to self-determination means that it is also free, in principle, to decide in favor of some nondemocratic alternative.

The right to self-determination remains important to the subordinated ethnic groups of Nigeria. Self-determination served (and still serves) as a beacon for independence amongst subordinated peoples. The realization of independence, however, comes with its challenges. Sovereignty seems to translate into powerful internal structures of domination, many of which continue to instigate further claims for self-determination. These claims are, however, quite different from the past. They are not claims for independence, secession or statehood. They remain at best claims for economic sovereignty or, more accurately, agitations for economic self-determination. As such, the seemingly restrictive colonial model of self-determination remains quite unhelpful to the particularities of Nigeria. This is, perhaps, another example of how international law sits well with the powerful (in this case, the sovereign) but offers little or nothing to the stateless, oppressed or marginalized. Moreover, since the control of resources is a function of state sovereignty, international law - a state-centred discourse - seems quite unlikely to resolve this difficulty. Nonetheless, partial developments speak of distinctions between external self-determination and internal self-determination. Despite this, it remains unclear how to make sense of this recently asserted internal right to self-determination. The solution I propose is for this internal right to be understood as a right to take part in democratic government. The approach is inevitably in favour of explaining how self-determination might empower ethnic minorities with participatory rights to constitute and participate in democratic government. It is a human right concerned with self-government, territorial delimitation and economic resources. It is to an extent intertwined with the question of economic self-determination and responds to the lack of political accountability in the economic sphere. In essence, it links the question of democratic self-determination with economic self-determination in an attempt to bridge the divide between the economic and political spheres.

Legal statutes prohibiting felons from voting result in nearly 4 million Americans, disproportionately African-American and male, being unable to vote. These felony disenfranchisement (FD) statutes have a long history and apparently enjoy broad public support. Here I argue that despite the popularity and extensive history of these laws, denying felons the right to vote is an unjust form of punishment in a democratic state. FD serves none of the recognized purposes of punishment and may even exacerbate crime. My strategy is not to argue for this conclusion directly. Rather, I consider seven arguments for the moral legitimacy of FD, each of which will be found lacking. My emphasis falls not on the legal or constitutional questions associated with FD, but with its moral justification within a broadly liberal political framework. These arguments draw upon a variety of philosophical outlooks; three justify FD by appealing to justice or desert, three others justify FD based on its allegedly beneficial social consequences, and a final argument is a hybrid of both sorts of considerations. Not only do all these arguments fail, but eliminating FD could have salutary effects on our present climate of political discourse.

Abstract This article begins with the assumption that criminal disenfranchisement is at least sometimes theoretically defensible, as a component of punishment. From this assumption, I argue that it is only legitimate in a constrained set of cases. These constraints include: implementing disenfranchisement only for serious crimes; tying disenfranchisement to both the electoral cycle and to the length of imprisonment imposed for an offence; and assessing a background condition of sufficient justice present within the state that wishes to disenfranchise. Once these constraints are considered, I argue that there are very few instances in which disenfranchisement is defensible. To prove this, I examine both current disenfranchisement practices and the commonly present factors that undermine the constraints outlined above.

After discussing the interests that ground theright to democratic political participation,arguments for the disenfranchisement of thosewho commit serious criminal offenses areexamined. The arguments are divided into twogroups. The first group consists of argumentsthat are relatively independent of thejustifying aims of punishment. It is concededthat two of these arguments establish thatsome, though by no means all, serious offendersshould lose the vote for a period of time thatdoes not necessarily overlap with the durationof the other sanctions visited upon them. Thesearguments also imply that the state isjustified in attempting to exclude theoffenders in question from all forms ofpolitical participation, a position thatarguably runs afoul of moral limits onpunishment. The second group of arguments makesexplicit reference to the justifying aims ofpunishment. None supports the blanketdisenfranchisement of felons, though some mayjustify it in relation to some seriousoffenders for certain periods of time. All ofthe arguments supporting the disenfranchisementof serious offenders are most persuasive on theassumption that they live in reasonably justsocieties that are genuinely democratic. Ifthat assumption is false or questionable, thenit is argued that the force of such argumentsmay be weakened considerably.

Felony disenfranchisement is best understood as a means of vote suppression. Quite apart from its significance as a form of criminal stigma, disenfranchisement is most properly characterized as one of the ways in which the American voting system reserves political participation for a privileged social and intellectual class. Thus understood, felony disenfranchisement reveals the theoretical underpinnings of an exclusionary version of American democracy in which more or less widespread disenfranchisement is an acceptable or necessary political tactic. Felony disenfranchisement should not be characterized as a sanction for criminal conduct: It fits none of the usual justifications for punishment. Most commentators agree that felony disenfranchisement as a collateral sanction for criminal conduct stigmatizes alike a disparate collection of individuals convicted of crimes carrying a penalty of one year or more - everything from drug possession to murder - and extends, in many instances, long after former felons have completed their sentences. Justifications for refusing the vote to felons, and to former felons who are no longer incarcerated, are surprisingly weak and clearly related to larger issues of democratic participation. Accordingly, it is under the framework of democratic participation that the most persuasive justifications of disenfranchisement might be found. Under the framework of democratic participation, the disenfranchisement debate implicates competing theories of democracy, each of which has profound consequences for the constitution of the American polity. I contend that there are currently three models for the right to vote in American society: (1) a membership model premised upon popular participation in the democratic process as an expression of citizenship; (2) a deliberative model in which popular participation is conditioned upon the duty to be an informed and reflective citizen; and (3) an elite model entrenching political office in a political class that competes for votes among the electoral masses. The continuing vitality of these three models at the level of political debate and constitutional doctrine unsettles the dominant history of the franchise as one of progress from an exclusionary to an inclusionary extension of the mandate, and requires us to acknowledge felony disenfranchisement as part of a larger process of voter exclusion and suppression.

After discussing the interests that ground the right to democratic political participation, arguments for the disenfranchisement of those who commit serious criminal offenses are examined. The arguments are divided into two groups. The first group consists of arguments that are relatively independent of the justifying aims of punishment. It is conceded that two of these arguments establish that some, though by no means all, serious offenders should lose the vote for a period of time that does not necessarily overlap with the duration of the other sanctions visited upon them. These arguments also imply that the state is justified in attempting to exclude the offenders in question from all forms of political participation, a position that arguably runs afoul of moral limits on punishment. The second group of arguments makes explicit reference to the justifying aims of punishment. None supports the blanket disenfranchisement of felons, though some may justify it in relation to some serious offenders for certain periods of time. All of the arguments supporting the disenfranchisement of serious offenders are most persuasive on the assumption that they live in reasonably just societies that are genuinely democratic. If that assumption is false or questionable, then it is argued that the force of such arguments may be weakened considerably.