[Cite published version: Soundings, Volume 101, Number 2 (2018): 173-86] Commentary Norms, Narratives, and Politics LUKE WILLIAM HUNT, RADFORD UNIVERSITY Abstract This essay considers how legal and philosophical ideals relate to contemporary politics. While political commentary is often concerned with descriptive analysis of public affairs, this essay pursues normative analysis of emerging trends in public life. The essay's underlying theme is that "liberal" states-such as the United States-from time to time become illiberal by departing from the basic legal and philosophical norms of that tradition. Although it is difficult to draw definitive conclusions while in the moment, the tentative conclusion is that we are in the midst of a departure from liberal norms. The essay takes a discursive approach-drawing upon Appalachian culture, popular culture, and personal narrative-to highlight the altered trajectory from those norms. Keywords: history of ideas, political philosophy, jurisprudence, politics Introduction: Hillbillies and Descriptive Politics It is of course unbecoming to broach politics at many times and in many places, not just in social gatherings of mixed company, but also in various academic fields where one might seek to stay above the fray of pundits and ideologues. These etiquette and academic norms are particularly apt in the current political context, as we seem to have reached peak handwringing since November 8, 2016. Nevertheless, there is still among many a persistent desire to find new ways to makes sense of what strikes them as uncharted political waters. In a way, this is what J. D. Vance attempted to do in his popular book, Hillbilly Elegy. Although the book was written before the election, it exemplifies a novel attempt to provide context for this moment in history. The approach is personal memoir-or, more accurately, as Dwight Billings has critically described it, presuming "to write the 'memoir' of a culture"-mixed with a bit of sociological analysis. So while the book is very much Vance's story about his family, he also uses that story (along with some data culled from a variety of sources) to describe why those of us from a particular region are the way we are. This is an important tactic because most of the handwringing about the current political situation is related to the question, "how did this happen"? The surprising and horrifying (to many) outcome of the election must be tempered with recognition that a great many people (though not a majority) are pleased with these results. This is where Vance's personal/cultural memoir comes into play because it seems to provide a sociological analysis of a swath of the electorate that has received little attention in the past: poor, white Americans in and around Appalachia. In other words, Vance makes a descriptive claim about how we got here: He describes the conditions and circumstances of a significant portion of the electorate (with an emphasis on his own family), and that description presumably can help us make sense of the recent political context. The people that Vance describes are often referred to as "hillbillies" and "rednecks". In a sense, the use of pejoratives like these is emblematic of a larger divide in America that became fully manifest in the 2016 campaign and election. Vance's descriptive analysis thus provides some much-needed context. Nevertheless, it is important to make clear what Vance's book does not do (and does not try to do): provide a substantive normative analysis regarding whether the electorate's positions are justified. Further, if one discounts the predominantly shrill normative pronouncements from the left-"They're all racists!"-Hillbilly Elegy is far from being alone in sidestepping this crucial part of the conversation. The goal of this commentary is to add a dose of normativity to the cultural conversation. But before doing that, I should clarify two points about what this article is not and what it is. First, it is not an assessment nor a review of Hillbilly Elegy. My comments about the book rather serve as a jumping off point for a different sort of conversation-a conversation about legal and philosophical norms in politics. It is important, though, to acknowledge that Hillbilly Elegy is a vexed subject in the field of Appalachian studies. Although no one suggests that Vance does not have the right to tell his story, many in this field oppose the idea that his story (and any related analysis) should be construed as speaking for the entire region. This is particularly worrisome because as scholars such as Anthony Harkins have shown, Appalachia has long been a region rife with stereotypes and outsider misinterpretations. At times, Vance's personal story does seem to wield those stereotypes to answer broader, descriptive questions about that region. Second, this essay is not a research paper that seeks to add nuance to an existing body of academic work-whether in the fields of philosophy and law or Appalachian studies. Rather, it is an essay-in the traditional sense of the word-that seeks to spark new conversations by engaging with a variety of ideas about how legal and political norms relate to contemporary politics. To that end, it embraces a somewhat free form structure and-with a nod to Hillbilly Elegy-a certain degree of personal narrative. Normative Pejoratives To begin, consider Vance's use of pejoratives ("hillbilly," "redneck," "white trash") and how they might frame a discussion of descriptivity versus normativity. While he at times uses these terms normatively to express value judgments (for instance, he writes that his people have good traits such as "a fierce dedication to family and country," but also bad ones such as "not lik[ing] outsiders or people who are different" (3)), Vance primarily uses these terms descriptively. In other words, the pejoratives highlight his ethnicity (Scots-Irish) and geography (Appalachian Mountains and southern Ohio), which cohere into a "culture of Greater Appalachia" (4). That culture describes particular "family structures, religion, and politics" (3) marred by low social mobility and poverty, which in turn "encourages social decay instead of counteracting it" (7). Unlike these descriptive claims (which describe how things are), normative claims are those that take the form, "We ought to do X," or, "We ought not do X." A normative analysis thus considers whether something is justified-whether it is right and obligatory in light of some objective criteria. There are of course many kinds of norms: social, cultural, political, legal, moral, and so on. Sometimes these norms overlap and sometimes they do not. Although social, cultural, and etiquette norms might make swearing at the dinner table unjustified, there is no legal norm that makes such conduct wrong. On the other hand, the moral norm, "You ought not rape people" is also a legal norm-as well as a prudential norm and a social norm. There are also norms of political philosophy, which might be characterized as a subset of norms within moral philosophy. So while moral philosophy (and its related norms) might consider what one ought to do, political philosophy (and its related norms) more specifically examines what we ought to do as a political society (among other things). One way to determine whether a particular claim is justified in a political society is to examine whether the claim is consistent with the basic tenets of the society's tradition. For example, societies that are broadly part of the liberal tradition conceive of persons as "free and equal." That might sound like a platitude, but it is nevertheless a core platitude of the liberal tradition. So, for instance, any political position or policy that treats persons discriminatorily in a liberal society is wrong in light of the liberal conception of persons as free and equal. Accordingly, a normative analysis might make the claim that discriminatory policies in a liberal society are wrong by virtue of liberal political norms-as well as norms of liberal legal systems (though, historically, the law does not always reflect ideal political norms). It is interesting-and evocative-to distinguish the descriptive and normative approaches that one might use to examine our current political situation by invoking the two pejoratives mentioned above: hillbilly and redneck. As the book's title makes clear, Vance self-identifies with the term hillbilly. This makes sense considering the region upon which he focuses and his family's use of the term, but it raises a novel question: To what extent might one make a rhetorical distinction between hillbillies and rednecks? Consider a rough comparison of the two pejoratives. Both are of course derogatory, connoting ignorance and a lack of sophistication, and both connote a separateness from "mainstream" culture. But most believe that redneck further connotes a sort of meanness that is specifically associated with bigotry. Redneck is also more closely associated with the South generally, rather than Appalachia specifically, though the two regions overlap geographically and culturally. To see a superficial and telling distinction of the differing degrees of meanness associated with the two terms, compare the stereotypical-and hypercritical-image of rednecks in Randy Newman's 1974 song, "Rednecks" (with its focus on racism) and the stereotypical image of hillbillies in the television show, The Beverly Hillbillies (with its focus on a backward but benign family from the Ozarks). The contrast is stark in this particular case, though one must be cautious about generalizing (consider, for example, the hillbillies in James Dickey's Deliverance). Indeed, the distinction includes a sweeping claim about the unilinear meaning of cultural signifiers-a claim supported by only brief references to popular culture texts-which is very nearly as bad as using stereotypes to describe an entire region. And to be sure, it would be difficult to provide a precise contemporary meaning for the two pejoratives even if the focus was upon etymology rather than popular culture. This is in part because both terms might be said to transcend a particular ethnicity and geography in our time. Moreover, there is no doubt that there is a great deal of overlap with respect to the non-moral and moral aspects of hillbillies and rednecks: Hillbillies can be bigots and rednecks can live in the mountains. But the point of the distinction is rhetorical, not to carve nature at its joints. The distinction can be an illuminating way to frame the different kinds of questions-descriptive (as in Hillbilly Elegy) and normative (as in what I might call "redneck elegy")-that may be asked about the state of the polity. If one assumes that hillbilly connotes more strongly a cluster of nonmoral attributes (mountaindwelling, family-oriented, un-cosmopolitan, for example), then it makes sense to focus upon a descriptive answer to our original question: how did this happen? Vance and others provide that answer by focusing upon sociology broadly construed, helping us understand how our country arrived where it is today. But if one assumes that redneck more strongly connotes a cluster of moral attributes (various types of bigotry, for example), then it makes sense to examine normative questions and answers, too. In other words, the question in this case is not only how did this happen in the United States?, but also is this justified in the United States? The idea, then, is not to provide an exegesis of the two pejoratives, but rather to clarify our descriptive and our normative questions and answers when we talk about groups of people variously referred to as hillbillies and rednecks. It is of course helpful to provide a descriptive analysis of how we got here, but it is an inherent feature of descriptive answers that they tell us nothing about what we ought to do-or whether the conceptual place we have reached is justified. A further reason to focus upon normative rather than descriptive questions is that they are the ones that have received short shrift. There has certainly been a public and media outcry against the blatant examples of bigotry that have become more and more "mainstream" in recent years. However, much of the bigotry still lies below the surface, disguised as viable policy options regarding security and law enforcement, how to respond to perceived social and economic decay, and so on. The lack of systematic attention to the moral components of these issues is due in part to the worry that moral analysis is inevitably subjective and thus of little value. Who cares what some political pundit-or, worse, some academic-thinks is right and wrong? This can be a reasonable objection, and so there must be some way to reconcile objectivity and normativity. Surprisingly, this is not a terribly tall order. We need only clarify our legal and moral commitments to sketch answers to questions about what is and is not permissible for our electorate and political leaders. Narrative and Normativity In moving toward normative questions about politics, I would be remiss not to first disclose the extent to which I personally have a dog in the fight. Admittedly, I am a card-carrying Southerner. I grew up in Arkansas. Since my early twenties, I have lived in Tennessee and (primarily) Virginia. I prefer living in this part of the country. Geographically, there are the Blue Ridge Mountains, the proximity to the Atlantic Ocean, and a number of diverse cities within striking distance of my home in southwest Virginia. Culturally, I enjoy the slower-paced, friendly attributes of smaller, southern towns. I am not a foodie. My ideal breakfast involves cheese grits, bacon, blueberry muffins, and black coffee. I like football, full stop. I am also acutely aware of the way that negative stereotypes are lobbed at southerners (and embraced by our political leaders) that are often critical of the very aspects of the South that I cherish. Accordingly, if I am biased, it is in favor of the region in which I grew up. Like many southerners, I also appreciate the commitments of the liberal tradition: a political philosophy based upon freedom and equality. And I like the Constitution. It is these two things that naturally provide an anchor of objectivity for normative arguments. Assuming one is not seeking some sort of nonliberal revolution (whether fascist, Marxist, or some other variety), then here is at least one possible way to provide a normative account of the electorate's values. Consider the question: is the electorate pursuing policies that are in line with our country's political morality (values and principles that help define our particular conception of justice), as well as our country's laws (chiefly, the Constitution)? Answering this question shows the extent to which the electorate's positions are consistent with both the Constitution and our country's tradition of political morality. Still, one might wonder how it is possible to identify the core values and principles that help define our particular conception of justice. And perhaps it is even more difficult to identify the central (central to whom?) legal principles that help define who we are as a country. Despite these obvious difficulties, there is perhaps a way forward. Ludwig Wittgenstein was famous for describing language in terms of family resemblances in light of the different ways that language is used. To make the point, he described how things such as games share many overlapping features, yet there is no single feature that all games share. Although it is not a perfect analogy, something similar can be said with respect to the overlapping features of our country's political morality and legal commitments. Taking positions (perhaps even unknowingly) that depart from those overlapping features is wrong because it is wrong to depart from the values and principles that help define our country's conception of justice. For example, most people believe that John Locke's philosophy had an important impact on our system of government, at least in that it profoundly impacted the framers of the Constitution. Among many other things, Locke is known for his social contract theory, a cooperative conception of political community in which persons act reciprocally to produce a morally and prudentially superior condition. Under the theory, the state's authority is based upon persons voluntarily entering the cooperative scheme. The theory underscores an ideal conception of persons as free and equal and governed by the rule of law rather than by arbitrary decisions of unelected political officials. And though it is well known that Locke's theory focuses on the protection of property rights, his proviso is less often noted: we ought to treat others fairly by leaving enough resources for them. We can glean a few things from this philosophical backdrop. Our theory of government is based in part upon the idea that working together has both prudential and moral benefits. A political community can protect an individual's property rights by collectively providing security and centralizing the right to punish. This promotes the rule of law by eliminating bias and personal incapacity. And while Locke's theory does not support egalitarian redistribution, it does require a basic notion of fairness that involves leaving enough for everyone. And this perhaps means that we must downsize our collective share of resources when all resources are exhausted or "owned." The political morality espoused by those who self-identify as (and claim to speak for) rednecks typically shuns this commitment to reciprocity. A common refrain is rather a call to "take back the country," presumably from the "others" who are "free riders." Anecdotally, I cannot visit distant family and acquaintances in Arkansas without hearing some form of this view-often tinged with both implicit and explicit bigotry. The last two years have made it clear that such thinking is not just a straw man. Recent political sentiments have morphed into a real and powerful movement that harkens back to some of the darkest days in our country's history. But even if one interprets these political movements charitably (as not primarily an expression of ethnic and cultural bigotry but rather, say, an austere form of nationalism), can they be reconciled with the cooperative ideals that underpin our theory of government? Those who claim to speak for rednecks often assert that it is the "others" who are not pulling their weight. They will grant that life has dealt many people a bad hand, but insist that those unfortunate souls must show some personal responsibility and pull themselves up by the bootstraps. Most have a story to prove the point, like the one about my granddad. Bill Hunt, who died in 2014, was born in rural, racist southern Arkansas in 1928. Raised by an abusive, alcoholic father, he moved to a new house when his father decided that arson was the only way out of a bad financial predicament. Defending himself and his mother from his father's abuse yielded an unusual degree of toughness. Although he was not a big guy, he became known as one of the best football players in a town (Fordyce) that had nothing going for it except football. He received a scholarship to play for Bear Bryant at the University of Kentucky, but ultimately returned to the University of Arkansas at Monticello. There, he was a star athlete and class Vice President. From these humble beginnings, my granddad rose to be Coach, Principal, and then Superintendent in the Malvern, Arkansas School District, not long after the "Little Rock Nine" attempted to desegregate Little Rock's Central High School in 1957. He played a leading role in completing the racial integration of Malvern's schools in the late 1960s and early 1970s. There is a school building in Malvern named after him. I view my granddad-literally and figuratively-as one in a million. His ability to rise above the bad hand he was dealt in life was exceptional. Should the exception become the rule for others? As is well known, many people in America have stories that involve similar (or worse) hardships. Although most of those stories do not end like my granddad's, perhaps Vance's story should count as one that has a similarly happy ending inasmuch as he also overcame a crisis of family and culture. But the great majority of people do not overcome the hand they were dealt. The question is not whether my granddad and others deserve the circumstances into which they are born. They obviously do not. The question is whether the principles of our cooperative scheme permit us to turn our backs on those like them even if they are from a different ethnicity or country. In many ways, Vance suggests that the central problem with the culture he describes is not political, but rather that "[t]oo many young men [are] immune to hard work . . . and have a willingness to blame everyone but [themselves]" (7). In other words, he seems to view the problem as less about the nature of the polity, and more about the need for folks to develop character and a work ethic. The implicit philosophical question is not an easy one, in part because those of us who received a good hand in life might feel entitled to it (even if we do not deserve it) and might prefer to leave others to the task of improving their characters and work ethic. In contemporary political philosophy, this raises the debate between liberal theories of social justice (exemplified by the work of John Rawls) and libertarian theories (exemplified by the work of Robert Nozick). That debate often leads to polarizing conclusions: an austere libertarian ideal that is closer to the so-called "classical liberal" state on the one hand, or an egalitarian ideal that is closer to the so-called "welfare state" on the other hand. It would of course be an understatement to say that there is deep tension among ideals such as freedom, liberty, equality, fairness, reciprocity, duty, and so on. Fortunately, we need not get bogged down in academic debates. Our Constitution speaks for itself. Right there in the beginning, the Preamble states that the Constitution is established to "promote the general Welfare." The point is reiterated in the Taxing and Spending Clause, which states that "Congress shall have Power To lay and collect Taxes . . . to pay the Debts and provide for the common Defence and general Welfare of the United States." Similarly, the Fifth Amendment permits private property to be taken for public use. What this means is that the Constitution is in no way a libertarian document. It is rather a document that is consistent with the view that our government is based upon principles that entail working together in a cooperative scheme. No amount of Gadsden ("Don't tread on me.") flags and license plates will change what the Constitution states clearly. Broadly speaking, then, our legal and political norms establish at least a minimum commitment to collective responsibility, which attempts to account for the inherently unfair starting positions that people have in society. Does this mean that we ought to become a paradigm of socialism, embracing the welfare state and inviting social decay while in search of utopian socioeconomic equality? Of course not. As Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes stated in Lochner v. New York, the Constitution "is not intended to embody a particular economic theory." Along the same lines, though, we should not be surprised when our government spends money to prevent people from dying in poverty who cannot afford healthcare (which, for what it's worth, seems consistent with the Christian ethics that so many self-identified "rednecks" espouse). Instead of an economic theory, the Constitution-and the philosophical theories on which it is based-reflect principles about how we relate to each other as a community and account for each other's welfare. This includes the ideal conception of persons as free to pursue their life projects with the confidence that they enjoy an equal social and legal status-regardless of differences such as ethnicity and religion- that is protected from arbitrary government power. We of course see this in the Equal Protection and Due Process Clauses, the First Amendment's protection of expression, and the Fourth Amendment's protection against unreasonable and warrantless searches and seizures. The realization of these commitments is not possible without collective responsibility and reciprocity. It is important, then, to articulate why an electorate that disagrees with these principles is wrong, not just how it reached the point of disagreement. As a former law enforcement officer, it is important to me that we make good on the social contract's promise of providing a secure society (sometimes described as "law and order"). But as someone who now teaches criminal procedure and constitutional law, it is also important to me that we provide that security in a constitutional way. It is, for instance, constitutional for the police to "stop and frisk," but not if they do so in a discriminatory way. More broadly, the law and political morality on which our country is based make clear that it is unjust to treat any human as worth less than another human or as having an inferior social and legal status. Indeed, it was troubling to hear that the President of the United States recently told a group of police not to be "too nice" to "thugs" when they are arrested, and that it is unnecessary to protect a suspect's head when a suspect is arrested and placed into a police vehicle. As a former FBI Special Agent, I had to place cuffed suspects in the back of vehicles from time to time. Given that background, it is shocking when I hear norms against police brutality being treated as a joke. In a sense, this is an instance (one of many) in which the President of the United States channeled the subcultural norms with which Vance is troubled, as Vance states: "Manliness meant strength, courage, a willingness to fight" (245). In other words, the machismosteeped sentiment endorsed by the President is the same sentiment that is-according to Vance- contributing to Appalachia's hardships. Government policy may not alter these subcultural norms that Vance describes, but it makes sense for us to be clear that many of those values are inconsistent with the broader norms of our legal and political tradition. And it goes without saying that it would be helpful if our political leaders did not perpetuate those inconsistencies. There are a number of other examples that might give one pause. Again, as a former FBI Agent, it was troubling to see the firing of FBI Director James Comey in the middle of an investigation involving the president's campaign associates (and their contact with the Russian government). Whatever one may think about the investigation itself, it is natural to wonder about the status of the rule of law generally, and, specifically, whether it is possible for the FBI to become a mere instrument of political whim. Likewise, while it might be correct to say that the President has unlimited pardon power in a case like the one involving Sheriff Joe Arpaio, it is also reasonable to question whether the Arpaio pardon is uniquely different from past pardons inasmuch as it was issued before the judicial process concluded. To be sure, there have been many notoriously objectionable pardons, but did this one involve a fundamental departure from the long-standing legal and political norms of due process, equal protection, separation of powers, and the rule of law? And, if so, are we in the midst of a broader departure from the norms of liberalism? Is it now normal to wonder-as the President of the United States allegedly did-why we receive immigrants from "shithole" African countries rather places such as Norway? There are other, more serious indications (perhaps less connected to official government actions and policy) that we are in the midst of a sea change, not least the recent uptick in white nationalist movements. This trend included several rallies in Charlottesville and at the University of Virginia-where I completed my doctoral work-that resulted in the murder of Heather Heyer, who was peacefully counterprotesting when a neo-Nazi drove his car into the crowd in which she was standing. Raising these worries may seem alarmist to some, but the simple point is that a polity's legal and philosophical norms-such as human dignity, legitimate policing (or the right to protest illegitimate policing during the national anthem), and the rule of law-have practical applications that govern what our public institutions should and shouldn't do. They also tell us something about the rightness and wrongness of any divergent subcultural values. Here is the upshot: The views of rednecks (or the views assigned to them and embraced by political leaders) are not divorced from intellectual history, but rather have ties to political traditions that are in direct opposition to the basic legal and philosophical tenets of the liberal tradition. By framing the conversation in this way, it is perhaps possible to deepen and expand the way we engage with these opposing beliefs and the people who hold them. It is not simply that rednecks and their political enablers are "ignorant," but rather that the actions and policies of our political leaders are often inconsistent with the legal and philosophical norms of our political tradition (and sometimes inconsistent with the actual views of those who self-identify as rednecks). Regardless, then, of whether we carve up the electorate into disparate groups (and many would argue such carving is inappropriate), sociological analysis is not the end of the story. There are also important normative questions to answer. Admittedly, I have painted with a broad brush. Concrete solutions to social problems require nuanced policy. Toward the end of Hillbilly Elegy, Vance is resigned that there are no good solutions to the underlying cultural problems he examines: A "magical public policy solution" does not exist (238). He says this in part because he believes that these problems- inasmuch as they are problems of "family, faith, and culture"-cannot be solved through government policy (238). Although that may very well be true, it of course does not change the fact that those familial, religious, and cultural norms may be inconsistent (and unjustified) with respect to the broader norms of political morality. To be sure, the fact that we can describe a problem as having two sides-and that the problem is in some sense intractable and beyond reconciliation for one or both sides-does not mean that the two sides are equal or equally justified. It is for this reason that clarifying our normative commitments can at least illuminate the ground rules of any attempt to solve societal problems. Given our commitments of law and political morality, the logical conclusion is that the values and policies of those who claim to speak for rednecks are often wrong. Not because I or anyone else says so, but because their positions are inconsistent with the basic tenets of a liberal constitutional democracy, as well as the Constitution itself. Luke William Hunt's work focuses upon the intersection of political philosophy, jurisprudence, and criminal justice, and is informed by his professional background. After law school, he served as a law clerk for a federal judge in Abingdon, Virginia, and then worked as a FBI Special Agent in Charlottesville, Virginia, and Washington, D.C. After this stint with the government, he completed a PhD at the University of Virginia and then joined the faculty in Radford University's Department of Criminal Justice. This essay is for Bill Hunt (1928–2014). Work Cited Billings, Dwight. "Hillbilly Elegy." Review of Hillbilly Elegy, by J. D. Vance. Occasional Links & Commentary on Economics, Culture and Society (blog of David F. Ruccio), August 10, 2016. Bump, Philip. "Trump's speech encouraging police to be 'rough,' annotated." Washington Post, July 28, 2017. Harkins, Anthony. A Cultural History of an American Icon. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. Hunt, Luke William. The Retrieval of Liberalism in Policing. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018 (forthcoming). Hunt, Wesley. "The Mechanics of Integration: A Smooth Process in South Arkansas." Honors Thesis, University of Arkansas, 2005. Leiter, Brian. "Constitutional Law, Moral Judgment, and the Supreme Court as SuperLegislature." Hastings Law Journal 66 (2015): 1601–16. Locke, John. Two Treatises of Government. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988 (1689). Nozick, Robert. Anarchy, State, and Utopia. New York: Basic Books, 1974. Rawls, John. A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971. Simmons, A. John. On the Edge of Anarchy: Locke, Consent, and the Limits of Society. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. Vance, J. D. Hillbilly Elegy. New York: HarperCollins, 2016. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Philosophical Investigations. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1968 (1953).