Social Philosophy Today

In this paper, I explore the significance of an intersectional lens when it comes to our conversations surrounding the #MeToo movement, in particular the way that such a lens helps us in recognizing narratives of sexual assault and harassment that are not typically viewed as such. The mainstream discourse on #MeToo in the United States has been quite exclusionary when it comes to women who are non-dominantly situated within societal structures. In particular, this paper looks at how Muslim American women’s issues surrounding sexual assault and harassment are presented as exotic and a function of their religion and culture, further narrowing what is considered worthy of attention within the discourse of the #MeToo movement. I argue that one such instance of sexual harassment that isn’t seen as such, is hijab snatching within particular contexts. Furthermore, I argue that a lack of an intersectional lens results in not only privileging certain harmful voices under the guise of inclusivity, but even when invaluable voices are allowed to enter mainstream discourse, they are often the sort that sidestep issues of Western imperialistic practices, Islamophobia, racialization of Muslims, etc. I highlight the dangers of speaking for others, especially in ways that attribute sexual violence experienced by Muslim women to their cultures and/or their men. I argue that acknowledging these dangers is in itself a crucial part of an inclusive conversation on #MeToo.

I argue that men can be oppressed by virtue of being men; however, our definitions of men and masculinity must be redefined and reclaimed from the dominant white perspective. My claims are: (1) current arguments on the oppression of men simpliciter are misguided as they fail to encompass the experiences of all men; (2) any question regarding the oppression of men must reject the current static and universal definition of men; (3) the oppression of men is an instantiation of structural oppression that allows for men to be both privileged and oppressed in different, forms, degrees, and dimensions; (4) the oppression of Latino men qua Latino men is an example of men being oppressed as men. Therefore, (5) we must redefine and reclaim the definition of “men” and “masculinity.” Last, (6) this redefinition cannot be done a priori but must use intersectionality as a regulative method to illuminate the oppression of men that remains obscured in other, one-dimensional approaches to the topic of the oppression of men.

In Kate Manne’s theory of misogyny, women’s behavior is surveilled (by men and other women) so that they conform to gendered norms of behavior and care, and they are threatened or punished when they refuse to abide by norms. I seek here to extend her argument about surveillance to norms around masculinity, and to demonstrate the ways in which surveillance actually runs throughout the gendered economy of care. I assess the impacts of this surveillance (particularly on men of color, who identify as gay or trans, or who are immigrants or religious minorities), and argue that misogyny and masculinity are inextricably interlinked and mutually reinforcing phenomena, that must be simultaneously demystified for progress towards gender equity.

What makes anger an appropriate response to systemic injustice? Let us assume that it cannot merely be its positive effects. That is, sometimes we should be angry even when getting angry is bound to make things worse. What makes such anger appropriate? According to Amia Srinivasan (2017), counterproductive anger is only apt if it passes a necessary condition that I call the Matching Constraint: one’s personal reason for getting angry must match the fact that justifies their anger. When the Matching Constraint is satisfied, anger can be an intrinsically worthwhile way of affectively appreciating injustice. I argue that the Matching Constraint is incorrect. More precisely, I take issue with its status as a necessary condition on apt anger. Anger can be an apt response to injustice even when it fails to be a form of affective appreciation. Often enough, one does not know why they are angry, or one is not angry for the reason that justifies their anger. For all that, it may still be appropriate for them to be angry. After presenting several cases of apt anger that fail the Matching Constraint, I suggest an alternative standard for aptness based on the general function of anger in our psychology. On my view, anger is apt when and because it alerts one, however coarsely or crudely, to threats against one’s values.

Most individuals desire a more egalitarian society but figuring out what that would mean and how to get there is unclear. Elizabeth Anderson’s relational egalitarianism is one approach to understanding what building a more egalitarian society would mean; this article will agree with her analysis but will highlight how, in attempting to achieve that goal, some serious issues arise. Specifically, Anderson mentions that a consequence of her view would be the elimination of “outcasts” as a status of social groups and how this leads to a tension between promoting social relationships as a primary good and respecting autonomy and privacy. This article will attempt to navigate this tension by providing a close analysis of how outcasts are created and clearly articulating how the elimination of such a group status creates the aforementioned tension. The upshot of the analysis is a sketch of a positive proposal that avoids the tension and makes progress toward the elimination of outcasts as a social group.

This essay treats divergent conceptions of “respectability politics” as a question of conceptual ethics. Influential discussions of respectability politics in the public sphere have centered on disagreements about tactics and strategies for liberation. But entwined within this discourse one can find a parallel effort to decide which conception of “respectability politics” will best serve the current moment of struggle. Should we accept its newer normative meaning, where it is used to condemn political tactics that ask African-Americans and members of other marginalized groups to seem nonthreatening and morally acceptable to oppressors? Or should stakeholders work to preserve the descriptive meaning of the concept—the one introduced by Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham (Righteous Discontent, 1993) to identify late-Ninenteeth century tactics of moral self-discipline that were sometimes elitist, but were also often progressive, rebellious, and pro-working class? The conceptual choice invites us to ask which social realities should be picked out by the phrase “respectability politics” and how to judge the different ways normative and descriptive conceptions function within our political lives. In this essay I offer criteria for adjudicating between the negative-normative and the complex-descriptive conceptions of respectability politics and I consider the whether or not they can be reconciled.

Sally Haslanger offers the following concept of “woman”: If one is perceived as being biologically female and, in that context, one is subordinated owing to the background ideology, then one “functions” as a woman (2012b, 235). An implication of this account is that if someone is not regarded by others as their self-identified gender, they do not function as that gender socially. Therefore, one objection to this ascriptive account of gender is that it wrongly undermines the gender identities of some trans people. In this paper, I will argue that Haslanger’s definition can be defended against this objection and that her account inevitably aids in liberatory efforts not only for cisgender women, but for all sexual and gender minorities. While Katharine Jenkins’s dual account of gender aims to rectify this objection (2016, 407), I will point out two important problems with her argument: “the inclusion dilemma” and “the abolition problem.” Finally, I will argue that Haslanger’s account of gender is preferable to Jenkins’s because it outlines the reality of gender as an oppressive, hierarchical system whose categories ought to be dismantled.

In “Communication Breakdown: Probing the Limits of Narrative Medicine and its Discontents” (2019), David J. Leichter engages practical experience teaching medical ethics in the college classroom to explore opportunities—and limits—of narrative engagement within medical ethics and clinical practice. Leichter raises concerns regarding potential epistemic harms, both testimonial and hermeneutical, when individuals, or their pain, cannot be adequately recognized through expressive modes traditionally understood as “narrative.” While I largely agree with Leichter’s worries about narrative authority and limits, I challenge his characterization of “narrative medicine.” In response, I suggest that “narrative medicine” is more than merely narrative engagement in medicine. As theorized by Rita Charon (2001, 2006), “narrative medicine” involves an inclusive approach to what narrative is, and more than mere mastery of “narrative competency.” I argue that at least one way to conceptualize “narrative medicine” is as a technical term, which refers to the process of attention, representation, and affiliation Charon develops as the achievement of narrative medicine. When understood in this technical way, narrative medicine can both resist and respond to the kinds of epistemic harms about which Leichter is rightfully worried.

Migration often involves leaving one home and trying to build another. Normative issues abound with both aspects, however as we reflect on issues of home and migration, it is hard to go past the thought that the plight of refugees is one of the most pressing. Being a refugee might be the equivalent of being homeless in the international context. And so considering our responsibilities in relation to the homeless in our state system seems especially worthwhile, given the conference theme and the vulnerability associated with being forcibly displaced. Here I focus particularly on the plight of large-scale refugee populations fleeing violent conflict. And I am especially focused on the Syrian case, given that it currently involves the largest displaced population, though other cases will be discussed as well. I explore how we should help refugees in ways that are likely to promote the well-being of many agents that surround refugee crises. Many of these solutions may be described as development oriented. They focus on meeting a wide range of current needs of the displaced populations (such as for autonomy, work, opportunity, and community) while also preparing that population for life after conflict.

David Miller’s defense of a state’s presumptive right to exclude non-refugee immigrants rests on two key distinctions. The first is that immigration controls are “preventative” and not “coercive.” In other words, when a state enforces its immigration policy it does not coerce noncitizens into doing something as much as it prevents them from doing a very specific thing (e.g., not entering or remaining within the state), while leaving other options open. Second, he makes a distinction between “denying” people their human rights and “deterring” people from exercising their human rights. On this view, when those assigned to protect or fulfil human rights are also tasked with performing immigration enforcement duties, undocumented immigrants are not being denied their human rights, even when this deters them from exercising those rights. In this article, I argue that Miller’s two distinctions have an implication that he might not have foreseen. Specifically, I argue that these distinctions provide ideological cover for what has come to be known as “crimmigration” and that we have strong reasons for wanting our theory of immigration justice to reject this, even when doing so leaves open the possibility for an indirect open-borders argument.

People who have mental illness are in particular need of what a home can provide, but they are especially vulnerable to not being in a place with a home-like environment, whether due to homelessness, incarceration, or hospitalization. At any given time, approximately 170,000 people are inpatients in psychiatric units or hospitals (NASMHPD 2017). Psychiatric hospitals are not homes, and they are not designed for long-term stay. The main purpose of the modern psychiatric hospital is to stabilize people in mental health crises, such as those who are psychotic or suicidal; hospitals are best thought of as temporary, transitional dwellings. Even though a person may only reside there for a week or a month, however, it is a crucial period of stabilization and healing. As this paper argues, practices of home-making increase epistemic and moral agency, which enables crisis stabilization, healing, and recovery. This paper examines several functions of home and shows some of the ways that patients in psychiatric hospitals try to replicate these functions in the physical space they have given their many constraints. Because practices of home-making support the goals of hospitalization, the hospital experience should be designed to encourage these practices as much as possible.

The term “Native Hawaiian” is often used to refer to the indigenous people of the Hawaiian islands; however, the term is itself non-Hawaiian, as is its pronunciation. The Kānaka Maoli, the “true or real persons,” are the indigenous people of Ka Pae ‘Āina O Hawai‘i (the Hawaiian archipelago). After living for centuries in these islands as a sovereign people, with a relationship to the land that is both familial and reciprocal, the last Hawaiian government was overthrown in 1893 with the help of military personnel from the United States of America. Five years after the overthrow the USA annexed the islands, in spite of clear and overwhelming opposition by the Kānaka Maoli. In 1959 the majority of non-Hawaiian residents of Hawai‘i voted in the affirmative for statehood. The aim of this article is to show that the overthrow of the sovereign Hawaiian nation, the annexation of Hawai‘i by the USA, and the incorporation of these islands into the USA as its fiftieth state, are both illegal and unjust. Moreover, justice requires the restoration of a sovereign Hawaiian nation.