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Discursive equality Beauvais, Edana 2017

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DISCURSIVE EQUALITY by  Edana Beauvais  B.A., The University of Toronto, 2008 M.A., The University of British Columbia, 2011  A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF  DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES (Political Science)  THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver)  August 2017  © Edana Beauvais, 2017 ii  Abstract  To count as democratic, social systems must empower the inclusion of people affected by collective endeavours to participate in practices that contribute to self-development and self- and collective-rule. As a political practice, talking is important because it is an essential tool for enacting social identities and enabling self-development. Talking is how people think through their preferences, and helps people relate private preferences to those collective opinions and agendas that enable collective rule. However, formal barriers (such as legal restrictions) can entail exclusions that prevent disempowered social group members from participating in, or influencing practices – including talk – that contribute to self-development and self- and collective-rule. Furthermore, even in the absence of formal barriers to social and political participation, the historical legacy of structural inequality can pattern social cognition and contribute to internal exclusions that engender asymmetries in political participation and influence, including asymmetries in discursive participation and influence. I address the empirical question of whether inequality shapes social cognition to engender asymmetries in social group members’ discursive participation and influence in two analyses. In my empirical chapters, I turn my attention from a broader concern with social inequality and narrow my focus to gender inequality. In my first empirical chapter, I use Canada Election Studies (2015) data to show there is an ongoing gender gap in discursive participation. In my second empirical chapter, I use data from an original vignette experiment to show that when women do talk politics, they have less influence than men. Finally, I suggest practices and institutions to help neutralise discursive inequalities, so democratic systems can come closer to iii  the ideal of discursive equality, or equal participation and influence in communicative processes of self-development and self- and collective-rule.   iv  Lay Summary  Democracy means we have a say over how we live. This means we can develop who we are, such as by deciding what to do with our lives or who we spend time with. It also means we have a say over the rules that guide our actions, including social expectations and laws that govern what we can and can’t do. Talking is important for democracy because talking helps us develop our capacities, and talking helps us negotiate with others about what rules should govern our actions. Group-based inequality is bad because it can exclude people from participating in, or influencing, conversations. My research shows that, because of ongoing gender inequalities, women participate in political talk at lower rates than men, and have less influence than men when they speak. But I also suggest ways to address inequality so everyone can participate in and influence political talk, so that talking enhances democracy. v   Preface  I identified and designed this research program in consultation with my supervisory committee. The research conducted this dissertation was approved by the UBC Behavioural Ethics Board, Certificate Number H15-02776 (and the renewal Certificate Number H15-02776-A001).  Portions of Chapter 2 (parts of section 2.2.) and 9 (parts of section 9.1) have been published as: Beauvais, Edana. 2017. “Deliberation and Equality.” In The Oxford Handbook of Deliberative Democracy, edited by André Bächtiger, John Dryzek, Jane Mansbridge, and Mark Warren. Oxford University Press.  Portions of Chapter 9 (from section 9.1.1.) have been published as: Beauvais, Edana, and Bächtiger, André. 2016. “Taking the Goals of Deliberation Seriously: A Differentiated View on Equality and Equity in Deliberative Designs and Processes.” Journal of Public Deliberation, Special edition: Equality, Equity, and Deliberation, 12 (2). I was the lead investigator, responsible for all major areas of concept formation and manuscript composition. Bächtiger, André was the supervisory author on this project and was involved throughout the project in concept formation and manuscript edits.  vi  Table of Contents  Abstract .......................................................................................................................................... ii Lay Summary ............................................................................................................................... iv Preface .............................................................................................................................................v Table of Contents ......................................................................................................................... vi List of Tables ............................................................................................................................... xii List of Figures ............................................................................................................................. xvi Acknowledgements .................................................................................................................. xviii Dedication .....................................................................................................................................xx Chapter 1: Introduction ................................................................................................................1 1.1 Research Questions and Background.............................................................................. 4 1.1.1 Why is More Democracy Better, and More Oppression and Domination Worse? .... 4 1.1.2 What Kind Of “Equality” Empowers Inclusion in Democratic Processes? ............... 7 1.1.3 What are the Consequences of Inequality for the Democratic Potential of Talk? ...... 8 1.1.4 What are the Consequences of Discursive Inequality for the Democratic Potential of Talk? .... ............................................................................................................................... .10 1.1.5 Where do Discursive Inequalities Come From? ....................................................... 12 1.1.6 How can we Achieve Discursive Equality? .............................................................. 14 1.2 Chapter Summaries ....................................................................................................... 16 1.2.1 Chapter 2 Equality and Democracy .......................................................................... 16 1.2.2 Chapter 3 Talk and Collective Opinion and Agenda formation ............................... 17 1.2.3 Chapter 4 Practical Knowledge ................................................................................ 17 vii  1.2.4 Chapter 5 Spaces of Public Appearance ................................................................... 19 1.2.5 Chapter 6 Inequality, Oppression, and Domination .................................................. 20 1.2.6 Chapter 7 An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries of Discursive Participation ....... 21 1.2.7 Chapter 8 An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries of Discursive Influence ............ 23 1.2.8 Chapter 9 Achieving Discursive Equality................................................................. 24 1.2.9 Chapter 10 Conclusion .............................................................................................. 25 1.3 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 25 Chapter 2: Equality and Democracy..........................................................................................28 2.1 A Systems Approach to Democratic Theory ................................................................ 29 2.1.1 Benefits of the Systems Approach ............................................................................ 33 2.2 Empowered Inclusion ................................................................................................... 35 2.3 Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation .................................................................. 40 2.4 Collective Decision-Making ......................................................................................... 42 2.5 The Problem of Inequality ............................................................................................ 44 2.5.1 Interactional (Including Discursive) Inequalities and Internal Exclusion ................ 49 2.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 53 Chapter 3: Talk and Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation ...........................................55 3.1 Forms of Talk ................................................................................................................ 56 3.1.1 Talk Versus Social Interaction .................................................................................. 56 3.1.2 A Shared Background of Implicit Mutual Understandings ...................................... 58 3.1.3 Resolving Conflict and Misunderstanding Through Deliberation ............................ 59 3.1.4 The Importance of Everyday Talk for Democracy ................................................... 64 3.2 Using Talk to Achieve the Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation Functions ...... 70 viii  3.2.1 Democracy-Supporting Social Integration Functions ............................................... 70 3.2.2 Reciprocity Functions ............................................................................................... 73 3.2.3 Democracy-Supporting Personality Functions ......................................................... 79 3.2.4 Learning Functions ................................................................................................... 80 3.2.5 Legitimation Functions ............................................................................................. 83 3.3 Inequality Prevents Talk from Achieving Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation .. . ………………………………………………………………………………………………..84 3.4 Conclusion .................................................................................................................... 89 Chapter 4: Practical Knowledge.................................................................................................92 4.1 The Sensorimotor Experience of Intersubjectivity ....................................................... 94 4.2 Inscribing Shared Intentions in Things: Language and Institutions ............................. 97 4.3 Inscribing Shared Intentions in Minds: Habitus ......................................................... 102 4.4 Isomorphism, Homology, and the Common-Sense World ......................................... 112 4.5 The Counterweight of the Common-Sense World and Human Agency..................... 117 4.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 122 Chapter 5: Spaces of Public Appearance.................................................................................124 5.1 Human Plurality and the Need for Revelation and Recognition ................................. 127 5.2 Social Differentiation through Social Identities ......................................................... 130 5.3 Social Differentiation through Fields.......................................................................... 135 5.4 Preserving Power Relations ........................................................................................ 141 5.5 The Democratic Aim of Creating and Preserving Symmetrical Power Relations ...... 146 5.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 147 Chapter 6: Inequality, Oppression, and Domination .............................................................151 ix  6.1 The Relationship Between Inequality and the Harms of Oppression and Domination ………..................................................................................................................................... 153 6.1.1 Five Faces of Oppression ........................................................................................ 155 6.1.2 Domination ............................................................................................................. 157 6.2 When Habitus Engenders Interactional Inequality and Internal Exclusions .............. 159 6.3 The Example of Patriarchy ......................................................................................... 163 6.4 Discursive Inequality Contributes to Harms of Oppression ....................................... 170 6.4.1 Discursive Inequity and the Harm of Powerlessness .............................................. 170 6.4.2 Norm-Conditional Communication and the Choice Between Cultural Imperialism or Marginalisation ................................................................................................................... 175 6.5 Discursive Inequalities Contribute to Domination when they Block Deliberation .... 180 6.6 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 182 Chapter 7: An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries in Political Participation .....................185 7.1 Literature ..................................................................................................................... 186 7.1.1 A Gender Gap in Political Participation ................................................................. 186 7.1.2 Discursive Participation (Or Political Talk) ........................................................... 191 7.2 Methods and Data ....................................................................................................... 196 7.3 Findings....................................................................................................................... 201 7.3.1 Main effects ............................................................................................................ 201 7.3.2 Interaction effects.................................................................................................... 207 7.4 Discussion ................................................................................................................... 219 7.5 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 221 Chapter 8: An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries in Communicative Influence ..............223 x  8.1 Literature: Discursive Inequity and Women’s Internal Exclusion ............................. 224 8.2 Methods....................................................................................................................... 228 8.2.1 Research Design...................................................................................................... 228 8.2.2 Data and Analysis ................................................................................................... 231 8.3 Findings....................................................................................................................... 233 8.4 Discussion ................................................................................................................... 243 8.5 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 245 Chapter 9: Achieving Discursive Equality ..............................................................................249 9.1 Structures and Practices that Engender Symmetrical Empowerments ....................... 250 9.1.1 Engineering Micro-Institutional Communicative Processes .................................. 256 9.2 Circumventing Normal Procedures: Agonism and Escape ......................................... 263 9.3 Conclusion .................................................................................................................. 266 Chapter 10: Conclusion .............................................................................................................268 10.1 Limitations .................................................................................................................. 269 10.2 Contributions............................................................................................................... 271 10.3 Future Research .......................................................................................................... 278 References ...................................................................................................................................282 Appendices ..................................................................................................................................315 Appendix A Extra Material for Chapter 7 .............................................................................. 315 A.1 Distributions of Independent Variables .................................................................. 315 A.2 Main Effects ............................................................................................................ 316 A.3 Interactions .............................................................................................................. 322 Appendix B Extra Material for Chapter 8 ............................................................................... 349 xi  B.1 Experimental Treatment.......................................................................................... 349 B.2 Self-Esteem Measure .............................................................................................. 350 B.3 Implicit Association Test ........................................................................................ 351 B.4 Predicted Marginal Effects ..................................................................................... 353  xii  List of Tables  Table 7-1 Gendered variation in communicative political participation hypothesis list ............ 195 Table 7-2 Distributions of dependent variables .......................................................................... 198 Table 8-1 Distribution of the dependent variable ....................................................................... 231 Table 8-2 Distributions of independent variables ....................................................................... 233 Table 8-3 Mean likelihood of mind change, by counterargument gender condition .................. 234 Table 8-4 Ordered logistic regression coefficients and odds ratios for likelihood of changing one’s mind after receiving a counterargument (three models) ................................................... 236 Table 8-5 Self-esteem scores, by respondent gender .................................................................. 245 Table A-1 Distributions of independent variables ...................................................................... 315 Table A-2 Baseline model (main effects) logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ...................................................................... 316 Table A-3 Resource model (main effects) logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ................................................. 317 Table A-4 Full model (main effects) logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ...................................................................... 319 Table A-5 Predictive margins for gender (main effect) .............................................................. 320 Table A-6 Discreet change in gender (effect of being a woman) ............................................... 321 Table A-7 Full model with gender and ethnicity interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ....................................... 322 Table A-8 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and ethnicity ....................... 324 Table A-9 Discreet change in gender (effect of being a woman), by ethnicity .......................... 325 xiii  Table A-10 Discreet change in ethnicity (effect of being a visible minority), by gender .......... 325 Table A-11 Full model with gender and ethnicity interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ....................................... 326 Table A-12 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and poverty ....................... 328 Table A-13 Discreet change in gender (effect of being a woman), by poverty .......................... 328 Table A-14 Discreet change in poverty (effect of being poor), by gender ................................. 329 Table A-15 Full model with gender, working for pay, and young kids interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk............................................................................................................................................... 330 Table A-16 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender, employment status, and the presence of young children in the home ..................................................................................... 332 Table A-17 Full model with gender and civic engagement interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ....................... 333 Table A-18 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and civic engagement (volunteering for a civic association) .......................................................................................... 335 Table A-19 Discreet change in gender (effect of being a woman), by civic engagement .......... 335 Table A-20 Discreet change in civic engagement (effect of volunteering for a civic association), by gender ..................................................................................................................................... 336 Table A-21 Full model with gender and social trust interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ................................. 337 Table A-22 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and social trust (most people can be trusted, or you can’t be too careful) ................................................................................. 339 Table A-23 Discreet change in gender (effect of being a woman), by social trust ..................... 339 xiv  Table A-24 Discreet change in trust (effect of agreeing that most people can be trusted), by gender .......................................................................................................................................... 340 Table A-25 Full model with gender and political interest interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ....................... 341 Table A-26 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and political interest .......... 343 Table A-27 Discreet change in gender (effect of being female), by political interest ................ 343 Table A-28 Discreet change in political interest (effect of high interest), by gender ................. 344 Table A-29 Full model with gender and political efficacy interaction logit coefficients and odds ratios for group deliberation, everyday political talk, and Internet political talk ....................... 345 Table A-30 Predictive margins for the interaction between gender and political efficacy ........ 347 Table A-31 Discreet change in gender (effect of being female), by political efficacy ............... 347 Table A-32 Discreet change in political efficacy (effect of high efficacy), by gender .............. 348 Table B-1 Initial policy question and counterarguments ............................................................ 349 Table B-2 Rosenberg self-Esteem scale wording and coding .................................................... 350 Table B-3 Mean difference on Rosenberg Self-Esteem (RSE) scale, by respondent gender ..... 350 Table B-4 Implicit association test stimulus materials ............................................................... 351 Table B-5 Mean differences on d-scores between male and female respondents ...................... 351 Table B-6 Mean D-scores, by respondent gender and measure of explicit gender attitude (mean responses to the statement: “society would be better off if more women stayed home.”) ......... 352 Table B-7 Marginal predicted probabilities for main model: five categories of the dependent variable, by counter argument condition .................................................................................... 353 Table B-8 Marginal predicted probabilities for model 2: five categories of the dependent variable, by gender and counterargument interaction ................................................................. 353 xv  Table B-9 Marginal predicted probabilities for model 3: five categories of the dependent variable, by gender, counterargument, and self-esteem interaction (for low self-esteem) ......... 354 Table B-10 Marginal predicted probabilities for model 3: five categories of the dependent variable, by gender, counterargument, and self-esteem interaction (for average self-esteem) ... 355 Table B-11 Marginal predicted probabilities for model 3: five categories of the dependent variable, by gender, counterargument, and self-esteem interaction (for high self-esteem) ........ 355  xvi  List of Figures  Figure 7-1 Full model (main effects) logistic regression results, predicting group deliberation (95% confidence intervals) ......................................................................................................... 223 Figure 7-2 Full model (main effects) logistic regression results, predicting everyday political talk (95% confidence intervals) ......................................................................................................... 224 Figure 7-3 Full model (main effects) logistic regression results, predicting Internet political talk (95% confidence intervals) ......................................................................................................... 225 Figure 7-4 Predicted probabilities men and women participate in group deliberation (main effects)......................................................................................................................................... 226 Figure 7-5 Average marginal effects of ethnicity (the effect of being a visible minority on the predicted probability of participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................... 208 Figure 7-6 Average marginal effects of poverty (the effect of being poor on the predicted probability of participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................................................. 210 Figure 7-7 Average marginal effects of civic engagement (the effect of civic engagement on the predicted probability of participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................... 212 Figure 7-8 Average marginal effects of social trust (the effect of having high social trust on the predicted probability of participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................... 214 xvii  Figure 7-9 Average marginal effects of political interest (the effect of having high political interest on participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................................................. 216 Figure 7-10 Average marginal effects of political efficacy (the effect of having high political efficacy on participating in discursive politics) by gender, for three forms of discursive politics (with 95% confidence intervals) ................................................................................................. 218 Figure 8-1 Contrasts of predictive margins of man and woman counterargument..................... 238 Figure 8-2 Predicted probabilities for outcome “somewhat likely” to change mind, for man and woman counterargument, by respondent gender ........................................................................ 240 Figure 8-3 Predicted probabilities for outcome “somewhat likely” to change mind, for man and woman counterargument, by respondent gender and self-esteem .............................................. 243  xviii  Acknowledgements  I have many colleagues and friends to thank for making the dissertation writing process possible, and even – on occasion – fun. First and foremost, I would like to thank my supervisor, Mark Warren. Mark inspired and encouraged my work, helped me think through even the most half-baked ideas until they came out clever, financed me through research assistance positions, found me funding for conferences and summer schools, collaborated with me and helped me publish, and reminded me to take breaks and look after my health. I could not have asked for a more perfect supervisor. I would also like to thank my committee members, Andrew Owen and Simone Chambers, for their comments. Andrew’s help designing and implementing my survey experiment and analysing the data was invaluable. My research was financially supported by a Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council Doctoral Fellowship and by UBC. Many UBC colleagues helped me with my dissertation, and with the side projects that kept my attention deficit brain busy. First and foremost, my friend and co-author, Sule Yaylaci, whose passion, strength, and brilliance inspires me. I am grateful to Fred Cutler, who supervised Sule’s and my study of tutorial deliberation, and found us funding. I thank Alison James, Grace Lore, Elizabeth Mann, and Dave Moscrop for collaborating with me on publications. Other fellow grad students helped me develop my ideas through discussions and friendship, particularly Afsoun Afsahi, Jen Allan, Justin Alger, Katrina Chapelas, Alicia Luedke, Eric Merkley, Miriam Matejova, Spencer McKay, Andrea Nuesser, Dom Stecula, and Dan Westlake.  I thank the participants and discussants at the Canadian-Comparative Workshop for their comments and feedback, especially Alan Jacobs. I also thank Paul Quirk and the graduate students who kept the Public Opinion Lab running (Sule, Eric, Go Murakami, and Dom). Other xix  professors who helped me during informal chitchat include Barbara Arneil and Richard Johnston. I am grateful to undergraduate research assistants Arthur Nozak and Scott Fletcher, and to the undergraduate students who participated in the tutorial deliberation study and my survey experiment. Finally, I owe a huge debt of gratitude to the department’s administrative staff, particularly Josephine Calazan, Dory Urbano, Amy Becir, and Rebecca Monnerat. I am also thankful for the network of colleagues outside of UBC who helped me with their feedback, comments, and encouragement. Special thanks to André Bächtiger, whose co-authorship and feedback helped develop some of the ideas in this dissertation. I received feedback from many conference discussants, notably Jason Barabas and Tali Mendelberg (whose comments improved what become Chapter 8 of my dissertation). John Dryzek also provided feedback on a book chapter that informed part of this dissertation. I am grateful to the members of the Participedia team, whose conversations and debates at meetings and over dinners were thoughtful and fun. I would also like to thank all the Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly members who inspired me with their dedication to local democracy (and patiently took my long surveys), as well as MASS LBP for supporting Mark’s and my study of the process. I could not have done this without the love and support of my spouse, Andrew Sage. Andrew was essential for reminding me there is life – love, family, fitness, the great outdoors – outside academia. I also thank my fam in-law, Sandra, Dan, Anthony, Connor, and Brody Sage. Finally, I’m grateful for the village of strong, inspiring women whose friendship over the years got me to, and through the Ph.D.: Magdalena Abassi, Raniela Bovey, Breanne Cravagna, Keely Dakin, Christina Eng, Stefania Evangelista, Mirela Gakovic, Manie Ho, Kari Payne, Danielle Rulens, Krista Silverwood, and Glynda Tentes. And of course, my dog, Sophie, who never gets tired of me. Sophie, I promise I will never grow weary of being compassionate towards you.  xx  Dedication  In memory of my grandmother, Edith, who – although she never made it past primary education – made me promise to “stay in school.” 1  Chapter 1: Introduction  To count as democratic, social systems must empower the inclusion of people affected by collective endeavours to participate in political practices that contribute to self-development and self- and collective-rule (Young 2000, 2011; M. E. Warren 2017). I focus on the importance of talk for democracy, and show how everyday communication – particularly mundane talk – is essential for building the kinds of relational ties and facilitative attitudes that allow speakers to withstand the strain of disagreement endemic to deliberation. Democratic processes always begin with symmetrical empowerments that entail inclusions, because the aims of forming collective opinions and making collective decisions are undermined when those affected by collective endeavours are excluded from participating in, or influencing, them (Fung 2013; Goodin 2007; Young 2000). Because structural inequalities can prevent disempowered social group members from participating in or influencing social and political practices (including talk), structural inequalities can undermine democratic processes and contribute to harms of oppression and domination. Focusing on gender inequality, I show that asymmetrical empowerments contribute to an ongoing gender gap in discursive political participation. Furthermore, I show that even when women are formally included in talk, asymmetrical empowerments undermine women’s discursive influence. My dissertation has three broad aims. First, building on Mark Warren’s (2017) problem-based, systems approach to democratic theory, I consider the general problems social systems need to solve to count as “democratic”: empowered inclusion, collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision-making. I develop the democratic systems’ approach by clarifying the relationship between equality and inclusion, and articulating why empowered 2  inclusion must functionally precede other democratic goals. I also expand the approach by considering how the practice of “talk” –  including, but not limited to deliberation – can achieve democratic functions. Focusing on using talk to achieve democratic functions, I build-out the collective opinion and agenda formation function. I identify five interrelated, but distinguishable components comprising this general function: the social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation aims. I describe how talking helps achieve each component function. My second goal is to clarify the challenges that structural (group-based) inequality present for using talk to achieve democratic goals. Inequality and exclusions can be thought of as “systematic constraints” on social group members that prevent them from developing or exercising their individual capacities, and prevent them from participating in political practices to influence the norms and laws that affect them (Young 2011, 41). When inequality acts as disabling constraints that preclude social group members from participating in or influencing communicative practices, inequality and exclusion prevent talking from achieving the five, interrelated collective opinion and agenda formation functions. Furthermore, these disabling constraints can contribute to, or reinforce harms of oppression. Finally, inequality and exclusion can prevent misunderstanding or disagreement from being solved through deliberation, and so contribute to domination.  My third goal is to empirically illustrate the presence and extent of discursive inequalities, or asymmetries of communicative participation and influence. Focusing on gender, and considering the ways gender intersects with ethnicity and poverty, I use data from the Canada Elections Study (2015) to show there is an ongoing gender gap in discursive participation. Even controlling for structural factors (such an income, working for pay, education, and the presence of young children in the home), social capital (civic engagement and 3  social trust), and political capital (political interest and political efficacy), women are significantly less likely than men to participate in the most demanding form of discursive participation: group deliberation.  Of course, even if historically disempowered group members – such as women –participate in informal conversations about matters of collective concern or group deliberations, they may not have the same discursive influence as historically empowered social group members. That is, listeners may ignore or give less weight to their utterances. Using data from a novel vignette experiment, I show that there is an ongoing gender gap in discursive influence. I find that, ceteris paribus, people are more likely to accept a man’s counterargument than a woman’s identical counterargument. This means that even when women are nominally included in political talk, gendered asymmetries in communicative influence can undermine women’s contributions and influence. In the first section of this introductory chapter, I state my research questions and sketch the background information required to understand them. In this section, I outline the relationship between equality, inclusion, and practices that serve democratic functions, and describe the problem of inequality for talk and democracy. I then outline each of my chapters. I conclude my introductory chapter by highlighting my dissertation’s most important contributions to democratic theory. My contributions include, firstly, identifying the importance of talk – and particularly the importance of everyday talk – for democracy. Secondly, building on Pierre Bourdieu’s work, I offer a theoretical account of how material and social inequalities structure agents’ cognitive and motivational dispositions in ways that engender internal exclusions, even in the absence of formal prohibitions to participation and influence. Finally, I offer novel 4  evidence of ongoing gender gaps in discursive participation and influence in Western democracies.  1.1 Research Questions and Background  1.1.1 Why is More Democracy Better, and More Oppression and Domination Worse?  Democracy is defined by the degree to which people are empowered to participate in self-development and self- and collective-rule. Drawing on Young (2011, 37), I argue that democracy is characterised by two general values: (1) the ability to develop and exercise one’s capacities and express one’s experiences; and (2) the ability to participate in determining one’s actions and the conditions of one’s actions. These universal values are connected to the notion of justice derived from Jürgen Habermas’s communicative ethics which stipulates that – for norms or social conditions to be just – everyone affected by them must, in principle, have “an effective voice” in their creation, and be able to agree to them without coercion (Young 2011, 38). Democracy is linked to this conception of justice because democratic conditions – conditions that promote the universalist values of self-development and collective-rule – can be expected to produce opinions, decisions, norms, and social conditions that are more attentive to the needs and preferences of those affected by them. In short, democratic conditions can be expected to produce functionally better (e.g., more responsive), and normatively better (i.e., more just) opinions, decisions, norms, and social conditions. What I identify as two universalistic democratic principles map onto the problems Young (2011) identifies as oppression and domination. Following Young (2011, 38), I define 5  oppression as institutional constraints on self-development, “which inhibit people’s ability to play and communicate with others or to express their feelings and perspectives on social life in contexts where others can listen.” Domination refers to institutional constraints on self- and collective-rule, “which prevent people from participating in determining their actions or the conditions of their actions.” Oppression and domination are structural concepts, in that they refer to institutional constraints that prevent certain social group members from participating in self-determination and self- and collective-rule.  Oppression does not always entail domination: institutional conditions may prevent agents from using skills in socially recognised settings, while leaving agents some opportunities to determine their actions and the conditions of their actions. But domination almost certainly entails oppression. When institutional conditions prevent agents from determining their actions or the conditions of their actions, their capacity for self-development is circumscribed. Social systems characterised by oppression and domination can be expected to produce functionally worse (e.g., less responsive), and normatively worse (i.e., less just) opinions, decisions, norms, and social conditions.  1.1.2. What must a social system do to count as “democratic”?  Warren (2017) identifies three broad, “normatively necessary” functions social systems must achieve to count as democratic: empowered inclusion, collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision-making. The notion of a “function” is both normative and systematic. The concept of a function is normative “because identifying a democratic function is the same as claiming that a system should function in ways that support democratic ideals” (M. 6  E. Warren 2017, 42). The notion is systematic in that it frames the question in terms of practices’ context-specific “normatively desirable consequences or outcomes (functions).” Functions can be distinguished from generic political practices that serve democratic functions. Generic political practices are ideal-type social actions (in the Weberian sense of socially meaningful actions), commonly “organized or enabled by institutions that serve democratic functions: recognising, resisting, representing, deliberating, voting, joining, and exiting” (M. E. Warren 2017, 43). In my dissertation, I focus on the functions of inclusion and the collective opinion and agenda formation. It is important to note that democratic processes always begin – functionally and normatively – with inclusion. This is because, as my discussion of democracy, oppression, and domination starts to show, the aims of forming collective opinions and wills, and making collective decisions, are undermined if those affected by collective endeavours are excluded from participating in them (Fung 2013; Goodin 2007; Young 2000). A degree of equality means that empowerments are distributed in ways that enable those affected by collective endeavours to communicatively link their personal preferences and needs to collective opinions and agendas, and to link self-government with collective governance. To assess political systems’ democratic problem-solving capacities related to the collective opinion and agenda formation, I expand the collective opinion and agenda formation function. I identify five component functions comprising this broader function: social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation goals. As Warren (2017) notes, talking (including deliberating) is the most important and effective tool for connecting individual judgments to collective agendas. Under the rubric “talk” I include everyday talk about matters of collective concern (Jacobs, Cook, and Delli Carpini 7  2009; J. Mansbridge 1999), mundane talk (not about matters of collective concern), as well as deliberation. Deliberation refers to a rarer form of communication that involves trying to temporarily suspend pre-existing judgments to solve disagreement and misunderstanding through mutual justification (Habermas 1990).  1.1.2 What Kind Of “Equality” Empowers Inclusion in Democratic Processes?  Democratic processes begin with inclusion, and inclusion requires a degree of equality. Equality, broadly understood, can be thought of as symmetrical empowerments that enable people to participate in and influence individual and collective judgments and decisions by safeguarding personal and collective freedoms (such as freedom from government prohibitions on speech and other forms of social and political participation), as well as through positive supports (such as welfare supports) to help develop individual and collective capacities.  Equality contains two distinct values (B. Williams 1972; see also Beauvais 2017; Beauvais and Bächtiger 2016). On the one hand, universal equality (or universal moral equality), requires abstracting from social circumstances, and recognising the fundamental sameness of common humanity. The value of universal equality involves treating people as if they share a universal starting point (such as the same baseline of moral worth) and have the same fundamental needs (such as the need for life and freedom). However, group members do not “arrive at life’s starting lines” with equal resources (M. S. Williams 2000, 60). The second value of equality is equity, which involves attending to social circumstance, and recognising group-based differences between people.  8  When I refer to equality I am referring to “structural equality,” or equality between salient social group members (rather than, say, idiosyncratic differences between individuals) (Harell and Stolle 2010). Social groups are an expression of social relations, since “a group only exists in relation to another group” (Young 2011, 43). As such, structural equality between social groups denotes egalitarian social relations. Salient social groups might include gender, class linguistic, and ethnic or cultural, racial, or religious groups. Both the value of universal equality and the value of equity can – and should – be accommodated in democratic systems, through different political practices and institutional arrangements. For instance, democratic systems can enable empowerments through a baseline of universal equality enshrined as freedom from government interference in political practices, such as the freedom to organise, speak, and engage in other political acts. But in political systems where historical inequalities result in continuing asymmetries in social group members’ abilities to use these universal empowerments, it may be necessary to pursue the value of equity to promote the empowered inclusion of historically disadvantaged group members. For instance, targeted “get out the vote” campaigns may be designed to motivate the poor, new immigrants, or other historical marginalised groups to vote in general elections.  1.1.3 What are the Consequences of Inequality for the Democratic Potential of Talk?  Clearly, gaps in political rights between social group members entail asymmetrical power relations and formal political exclusions. For instance, limiting political participation rights to white, property-owning men obviously enhances white, property owning men’s political power relative to other social group members’ political power. And the prohibitions preventing 9  disempowered group members from legally participating in politics clearly entail formal (external) exclusions from voting, running for office, or other political activities. Large income-gaps or resource-gaps between social group members also entail asymmetrical power relations and external exclusions from political activities. For instance, the poor, who are unable to afford the cost of “pay-for-access” fundraisers, are excluded from attending functions where they could meet politicians and other influential members of society. Another example might be working mothers, whose double-day and finite free time precludes them from volunteering for a political party, or joining a civic association. The exclusions that unequal political rights, and economic or material inequalities, entail are “external” in that they preclude disempowered social group members from participating in politics at all (Young 2000). These inequalities prevent disempowered social group members from legally casting a ballot, affording a donation, or having time to associate with like-minded people.  Most democratic theories consider the problem of external exclusion, and “call for limiting the influence of wealth or position on the ability to participate in a democratic process” (Young 2000, 55). However, inequality can also structure social cognition to engender internal exclusions. Internal exclusion refers to when, even in the absence of formal political or economic asymmetries, socio-cognitive features shape how people view themselves and other social group members to engender asymmetries in political participation and influence. Consider how those who have historically been excluded from the franchise – women, the poor, or non-whites – may internalise a sense of “feeling out of place” in politics (e.g., Bourdieu 2000). People who feel out of place in politics are less likely to participate in practices such as voting or political talk, even after formal prohibitions to their participation have been lifted. For instance, research shows that 10  young women are far less likely than young men to envision themselves running for office, and this impacts their political behaviour as adults (Fox and Lawless 2011, 2014).  Inequality poses at least three interrelated problems for talk’s democratic potentials. First, inequality can simply prevent talking from achieving the collective opinion and agenda formation functions. Second, under conditions of inequality, talking can contribute to harms of oppression. And third, inequality can block deliberation. It is problematic when inequality prevents misunderstandings or disagreement from being solved through deliberation, because raising complaints about unjust (or unjustifiable) norms and laws is essential to self- and collective-rule. When asymmetrical empowerments block the “forceless force” of the better argument from solving communicative breakdowns – such as misunderstandings or disagreements – or impede efforts to problematize normative assumptions and bring them to the level of explicit disagreement in the first place, inequality contributes to systems of domination.  1.1.4 What are the Consequences of Discursive Inequality for the Democratic Potential of Talk?  I refer to unjustifiable, structural asymmetries of communicative participation or influence as discursive inequality, and focus on how cognitive schema can engender discursive inequality. When material inequalities and external exclusions structure cognition, cognitive schemes of perception and appreciation act as informal inequalities that engender internal exclusions that prevent disempowered social group members from taking advantage of formally equal opportunities to participate in talk, and can generate unjustifiable asymmetries in 11  disempowered social group member’s communicative influence. I identify two distinct forms of discursive inequality: discursive inequities and norm-conditional communication. Discursive inequities are disabling constraints that entail internal exclusion, undermining disempowered social group members’ communicative influence when they do participate in talk. A review of the literature on small-group deliberation suggests that members of historically disadvantaged groups are less likely to speak in discussions, and feel less influential (Mendelberg 2002). When women and men talk politics, both women and men are more likely to perceive men conversation partners as more knowledgeable about politics than women, regardless of the conversation partners’ objective political knowledge (Mendez and Osborn 2010, 270). Social stereotypes and structural variation in self-esteem are particularly problematic discursive inequities that undermine disempowered social group members’ communicative influence.  The second type of discursive inequality I identify, norm-conditional communication, refers to situations when the terms of successful communication (such as norms regulating what makes an utterance successful or a claim persuasive) are harmful to social group members’ identities. Norm-conditional communication discourages disempowered social group members from participating in communication at all (producing unjustifiable asymmetries of communicative participation), and typically entails discursive inequities (and unjustifiable asymmetries of communicative influence) when disempowered social group members do participate. Discursive inequalities can reinforce existing systems of oppression, since the disempowered are less likely to influence or participate in communicative practices.   12  1.1.5 Where do Discursive Inequalities Come From?  To understand how social and material inequalities can structure cognitive schemes of perception and appreciation to engender internal exclusions and asymmetries of communicative participation and influence, it is important to understand humans’ orientation to sharing intersubjective understandings with others, and their capacity to internalise, and so practically understand, the social and political world. Like many other animals, humans have cognitive hardware that enables a neural experience of intersubjectivity (to share automatic, sensorimotor understandings, and participate in emotional contagion) (e.g., Gallese 2001; Gallese, Eagle, and Migone 2007; Gallese and Goldman 1998; Iacoboni 2009; Iacoboni et al. 2005; Kohler et al. 2002; Rizzolatti and Craighero 2004).  However, humans are both capable and motivated to go beyond this temporary, corporeal experience of intersubjectivity. Agents expand and give permanence to the capacity for sharing intersubjective understandings and intentions by inscribing them in language games and other social institutions. Inscribing shared understandings and intentions in language games enables more cognitively-oriented mind reading skills (attributing the mental states of others) and more expansive collaborative activity (e.g., Ardila 2008; Burkart, Hrdy, and Van Schaik 2009; Carpenter 2006; Hrdy 2011; Tomasello 2010; Tomasello and Carpenter 2007). Not only do agents inscribe mutual understandings in language games and other institutions, they inscribe them in “bodies,” including the mind’s cognitive and motivational structures, thus internalising a practical comprehension world in which they have been inserted (Bourdieu 1977, 1990, 2000). Human plurality – that humans are both similar to one another, and yet distinct from every other person – means that humans are both capable of understanding one another, but also 13  need to make themselves understood (Arendt 2013). Human plurality motivates two fundamental psychological needs: belonging/similarity (on the one hand) and distinctiveness/differentiation (on the other) (Brewer 2003, 2011; Brewer and Pickett 1999; Leonardelli, Pickett, and Brewer 2010). The simultaneous needs for belonging and distinctiveness motivates agents to create and participate in spaces of public appearance, including collective social identities and what Bourdieu (1977, 1984, 1990, 2000) describes as “fields” of social play. Spaces of public appearance allow agents to simultaneously be the same (e.g., as fellow group members, or fellow field participants) and different (e.g., from out-group members, or from other field participants and non-participants). Spaces of public appearance also create contexts for mutual understanding and recognition. However, the desire for mutual understanding can motivate agents to forcibly co-opt others into participating in their social systems, to expand and give greater permanence to the shared intentionality inscribed in their social systems’ language games, institutions, and spaces of public appearance. This is particularly true under conditions of inequality and asymmetrical empowerments, when forcibly co-opting new participants reinforces or increases the co-opting group’s power. Forcibly co-opting new participants into a social system’s language games, institutions, and spaces of public appearance always entails norm-conditional communication and discursive inequities. This kind of forcible cultural and linguistic co-optation always entails forcing new recruits’ participation into the co-opting group’s language games, according to the terms inscribed in the co-opting group’s social systems. Furthermore, because experiences in the social and material world structure semantic associations and personalities, structural inequalities often entail the association of empowered group members with positive attributes that reflect their empowerments (such as authority, 14  intelligence, strength, and purity), and the association of disempowered group members with negative attributes that reflect their disempowerments (such as subordination, stupidity, weakness, and impurity) (Cuddy, Fiske, and Glick 2008; Fiske et al. 1999; Macrae, Stangor, and Hewstone 1996; Operario and Fiske 2001). In other words, social and material inequalities become embedded in cognitive structures as discursive inequities, which include harmful stereotypes and distorted personalities. These discursive inequalities – created through structural inequalities (such as patriarchy, racial and cultural hierarchies, or class inequality) – act as disabling constraints that undermine disempowered social group members’ capacity for self-development, which contributes to harms of oppression. Discursive inequalities also act as disabling constraints that undermine disempowered social group members’ capacity to act or choose the conditions of their actions – preventing social group members from influencing social systems’ language games, spaces of public appearance, and other institutions (including political institutions) that affect them – which contributes to harms of domination.   1.1.6 How can we Achieve Discursive Equality?  Different practices and institutional arrangements can be used to address structural inequalities, and bring democratic systems closer to the regulative ideal of discursive equality, or symmetrical empowerments that entail the universal inclusion and equitable influence of all social group members in everyday talk and deliberation. Universal equality – freedoms from unjustifiable constraints and positive political participation rights – should be consecrated in law. And institutional practices must be designed to protect the judiciary’s independence in law and practice, such as through independent judiciary appointment processes. And mechanisms to 15  achieve equity – such as affirmative hiring practices, or needs-based social welfare redistributions – should also be inscribed in law. Exactly which freedoms (and what constitutes an unjustifiable constraint), participation rights, and institutional practices and social policies to promote equity cannot be determined in advance by social scientists. Rather, they should be determined by those affected by them.  Efforts to achieve or safeguard symmetrical empowerments help create a context in which talk can achieve its democratic opinion and agenda formation functions in everyday contexts, or what James Tully (2002) calls “normal” activity. This backdrop of empowerments even helps when ongoing structural inequalities (including discursive inequalities) prevent talk or other political practices from functioning democratically, because agents can use the “regular procedures” to address disabling constraints and injustices (Tully 2002). For instance, agents can address discrimination in hiring practices by filing suit in a court of law or human rights tribunal, or can address problematic normative assumptions inscribed in language games or other cultural artifacts in social systems by making them explicit and challenging them through public deliberation. When this backdrop of empowerments is absent (or does not go far enough to address disabling constraints or ongoing injustices), agents can work outside the normal procedures, such as through confrontation and protest, or through escape.      16  1.2 Chapter Summaries  1.2.1 Chapter 2 Equality and Democracy  In Chapter 2, I explain what I mean by democratic systems, and explain why the “systems” approach is superior than the “models” approach for studying democracy. I explain what I mean when I say that social systems are democratic to the extent that people are included in political practices (such as voting or deliberating), can communicatively link personal preferences into collective opinions and agendas, and are empowered to turn collective agendas into collective decisions (M. E. Warren 2017). Drawing on Young (2000), I elucidate the relationship between structural equality and inclusion in social and political practices, and explain why democratic processes begin with empowered inclusion. I explain and build-out the collective opinion and agenda formation function, describing five, interrelated component functions: the social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation component functions. I also discuss the collective decision-making function. I then review different tools – resisting, talking, representing, voting, joining, and exiting –  that can be used to achieve these interrelated democratic functions. Finally, I consider the problem of inequality for talk and democracy, and introduce the idea that different forms of inequality – political, material, and interactional (including discursive) inequalities – can prevent political practices from achieving democratic functions.    17  1.2.2 Chapter 3 Talk and Collective Opinion and Agenda formation  In Chapter 3, I focus on how talk achieves collective opinion and agenda formation functions, and describe the problem of situations in which inequality prevents talking from achieving this set of democratic functions. I first explain what I mean by the generic practice of “talk,” distinguishing between deliberation and everyday talk (including everyday talk about matters of collective concern, and everyday talk about mundane issues). I elucidate the idea that the collective opinion and agenda formation is comprised of at least five distinguishable but interrelated component functions, namely: the social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation component functions. I elaborate why each of these components are necessary for democratic collection opinion and agenda formation, and explain why talk is so important for achieving each of them. I make the case that everyday talk (particularly everyday mundane talk) is best for achieving the democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocity, and personality goals, while deliberation is best for achieving democracy-supporting learning and legitimation aims. I also explain how different forms of inequality can prevent talk from achieving each of the collective opinion and agenda formation functions.   1.2.3 Chapter 4 Practical Knowledge  In Chapter 4, I draw on Pierre Bourdieu to explain the “self” as “practical knowledge” of the material and social world. I discuss how the mind is conditioned by material social experiences, to produce a “self” who internalises and so practically understands the world into which they have been inserted. Borrowing from Bourdieu, I describe the practical knowledge of 18  the world embedded in the mind’s cognitive and motivational structures as “habitus.” Drawing on the “Leipzig School” of evolutionary anthropology, I explain how agents’ capacity for mutual understanding – the capacity and motivation to share understandings and intentions with others – allows them to inscribe mutual understandings into language, institutions, and habitus’ cognitive and motivational structures, and so to internalise a practical comprehension of the material and social world (e.g., Hrdy 2011; Rakoczy, Warneken, and Tomasello 2008; Tomasello 2015, 2009a, 2009b, 2010; Tomasello and Carpenter 2007; Tomasello et al. 2005; Tomasello, Kruger, and Ratner 1993). Understanding how the world conditions bodies is central for the aim of empowering people to participate in and influence communicative processes of collective agenda formation. This is because conditions of structural inequality can systematically engender selves with weakened capacities to participate in, or influence communicative processes.  I also explain the development of a common-sense world that acts as backdrop of mutual intelligibility to enable smooth social interaction and everyday talk. Two factors contribute to the development of a common-sense world: isomorphism (congruence) between habitus and the social and material world, and homology (similarities) between the habitus of similarly situated people (Bourdieu 1977, 2000). Finally, I describe how the common-sense world can act as a conservative counterweight to social change, and discuss the role of human agency for changing social systems’ structures (including the structures defining the common-sense world).     19  1.2.4 Chapter 5 Spaces of Public Appearance  In Chapter 5, I describe how social systems become differentiated into spaces of public appearance (into social identities and fields), and outline the implications of societal differentiation for distributing and maintaining shared intentions – particularly, for distributing and maintaining power relations – inscribed in language games, institutions, or other cultural features of social systems. I draw on social psychology to explain the motivational and cognitive bases for social identification. I draw on Bourdieu to describe another form of societal differentiation: differentiation in fields (overlapping, rule-bound systems of social play).  I consider how power relations can be created and maintained by inscribing them in social systems’ structures (language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and habitus). In Chapter 5, I also describe how sets of government institutions (which collectively comprise political systems) are created to direct and protect the shared intentionality inscribed in social systems’ structures. I elucidate the notion that social group members may be motivated to forcibly co-opt new agents into participating in the shared intentionality inscribed in their social systems, to expand and give permanence to their social space. As I discuss, this is particularly likely when preserving and expanding social space preserves or expands asymmetrical power relations that benefit co-opting group members. I also discuss the ideal of political systems that direct and protect social systems’ language games, spaces of public appearance, and habitus to engender symmetrical empowerments that entail inclusions and enable human self-development and self-rule.   20  1.2.5 Chapter 6 Inequality, Oppression, and Domination  The purpose of this chapter is to show how, under conditions of inequality, talk can contribute to harms of oppression, and show how inequality can block deliberation from occurring at all, which contributes to domination. I first discuss the relationship between inequality and exclusion, and then I discuss how exclusions contribute to oppression and domination. I also explain in more detail what I mean when I say that inequality can become embedded in thought and perception, describing how features of the social and material world practically structure subjectivity to engender interactional inequalities, or asymmetries in agents’ capacities to participate in or influence social, economic, or political practices. Because of my focus on using talk to achieve democratic collective opinion and agenda formation functions, I focus on the form of interactional inequality I call discursive inequality, which refers to subtle and often subconscious asymmetries in opportunities to participate in, or influence, communication. I distinguish between two forms of discursive inequality: discursive inequity and norm-conditional communication. Discursive inequities refer to asymmetries in communicative influence, structuring how people perceive themselves, others, and social interactions, contributing to the harm of oppression Iris Young (2009, 2011) refers to as powerlessness. Norm-conditional communication refers to when the terms of mutual understanding are harmful to an agent’s self-identity. I explain how norm-conditional communication presents agents with an unenviable choice: participate in norm-conditional communication that is harmful to their self-identities and risk the harm of oppression Young refers to as cultural imperialism (and risk discursive inequity and powerlessness), or exclude themselves from talk, and risk the harm of 21  marginalisation. I also discuss how structural inequalities – including discursive inequalities – can block deliberation from occurring at all (which contributes to domination). Of course, whether norm-conditional communication and discursive inequity engender asymmetries in social group members’ discursive participation and influence are empirical questions. I address these questions in Chapter 7 and Chapter 8, focusing more specifically on gendered variation in discursive participation and influence.   1.2.6 Chapter 7 An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries of Discursive Participation  In today’s Western democracies, most formal prohibitions on political participation – such as legal prohibitions preventing women, minorities, or poor people from voting or running for office – have been removed. As such, my theoretical discussion of the problems of inequality – of the way inequality prevents talking from achieving its functions, and contributes harms of oppression and domination – only really matters for Western democracies if I am correct to suggest that inequalities can become internalised, and can continue to prevent historically disempowered groups from participating in and influencing political practices even in the absence of formal prohibitions. In my empirical chapters, Chapter 7 and Chapter 8, I narrow the broad question of whether of whether the historical exclusion of social group members from political practices – including the practice of talk – manifests even in the absence of formal exclusion, by considering whether there are ongoing gender gaps in communicative participation and influence.  Narrowing my focus to gender inequality in Chapter 7, I consider whether women participate in discursive politics at the same rate as men, using data from the Canadian Election 22  Studies (2015). I also consider whether gender intersects with other identities and ascribed attributes – such as ethnicity or socioeconomic status – to impact discursive participation in important ways. Although there is a substantial literature on the gender gap in various forms of political participation (voting, protesting, and other political acts) and political capital (political interest, political efficacy, and political knowledge), this chapter is the first systematic study of the gender gap in discursive political participation. I find that women participate significantly less than men in the most demanding form of discursive political participation: group deliberation. I also find that ethnicity intersects with gender in some important ways, although not always in the predicted direction. For instance, I find that minority status significantly reduces the predicted probability visible minority men participate in everyday talk about matters of collective concern (but not the probability that visible minority women participate in everyday political talk). My analysis reveals that other structural factors – such as poverty or working a “double-day” (working for pay and raising young children) – have surprisingly small effects on women’s discursive participation. I find that social and political capital explain more of the variation in discursive participation. However, controlling for social and political capital does not completely account for the gender gap in group deliberation in part because – although civic engagement and political interest are important for increasing everyone’s participation in group deliberation – the effect of civic engagement and political interest on group deliberation is greater among men than it is among women.   23  1.2.7 Chapter 8 An Analysis of Gendered Asymmetries of Discursive Influence  Even when historically disempowered groups are present and speaking in informal conversations about politics or more formal group deliberations, there is still a question of whether listeners give weight to disempowered group members’ utterances. That is, can inequalities become internalised, and continue to prevent historically disempowered groups from influencing political practices even in the absence of formal prohibitions? Continuing with my focus on gender inequality in Chapter 8, I present results from the original vignette experiment I created to test whether, else being equal, women have the same communicative influence as men when they speak.  Experiment participants were asked their opinion on a non-salient policy question, and regardless of their initial position, were randomly assigned to read a vignette with a counter argument, from either “Michael” or “Jessica.” I find that, ceteris paribus, respondents who received Michael’s counterargument indicate significantly more willingness to revise their initial positions, as compared to respondents who received Jessica’s identical counterargument. There is also some evidence of an interaction between respondent gender and the gender of the speaker presenting the counter argument: Female respondents are more likely to revise their opinions after hearing a man’s counterargument than male respondents. Self-esteem seems to be part of the mechanism driving this effect, as, for instance, females with lower self-esteem are more sensitive to learning about a man’s counter position and females with higher self-esteem are more resistant to hearing a man’s counter position.  24  1.2.8 Chapter 9 Achieving Discursive Equality  In this chapter I describe practices, and ways of structuring practices through institutions and spaces of public appearance, to better approximate the ideal of discursive equality. That is, practices, and ways of structuring practices through institutions and spaces of public appearance, that promote equal opportunities for communicative participation and equitable influence in communicative processes. I draw on James Tully’s (2002, 540) description of how social systems’ structures open “a diverse field of potential ways of thinking and acting in response” to those structures. These responses include practices in regular activity (playing by the “rules of the game”) inscribed in social systems’ structures, and challenging or questioning social systems’ structures using “the available procedures of negotiation, deliberation, problem solving, and reform with the aim of modifying” them (Tully 2002, 540). I consider both macro-systemic and micro-institutional approaches for achieving or safeguarding discursive equality. I also consider the problem of when structural inequalities prevent political practices from achieving their democratic functions in systems of domination where there are insufficient or no procedures for changing social systems’ structures.  Under conditions of domination, agents have to go outside the available procedures to change social systems’ structures through agonistic practices of confrontation or escape (Tully 2002, see also 2008a, 2008b).      25  1.2.9 Chapter 10 Conclusion  In my conclusion, I reflect on the research questions I posed in my introduction, and discuss my dissertation’s contributions to political theory and political science. I also outline my dissertation’s strengths and limitations. Finally, I describe two possible future research directions. In my first future research project, I propose exploring the relationship between talking’s democratic reciprocity and social integration functions in greater to detail. My second future research project will consider gender dynamics in Indigenous agents’ agonistic responses to norm-conditional inclusion in colonial/ post-colonial contexts.  1.3 Conclusion  Few researchers have carefully examined the importance of talk – particularly everyday talk – for democratic and deliberative theory. My dissertation represents the most thorough and complete examination of this topic to date. I show how everyday communication, particularly what I refer to as “mundane talk” (talk that is not concerned with social or political issues), is essential for building the kinds of reciprocal attitudes and social ties that allow speakers to withstand the strain of disagreement endemic to deliberating social and political issues. Another important contribution is to show how structural inequalities, including discursive inequalities – asymmetries of communicative participation and influence – entail exclusions. Under conditions of inequality and exclusion, talking is less likely to promote democracy-supporting social ties, or reciprocal attitudes such as mutual respect, trust, empathy, and tolerance. Under conditions of inequality and exclusion, talking is less likely to promote democracy-supporting (healthy, non-26  debased) personalities. Under conditions of inequality and exclusion, talking is less likely to promote learning, and talking is less likely to incur faith in the acceptability of collective endeavours. Worse yet – under conditions of inequality and exclusion, talking can do harm. Whereas under the right conditions talking is an essential tool for achieving democratic aims, under the wrong conditions talking can be used as a tool for oppression, and to help maintain systems of domination. Understanding how inequality threatens talk’s democratic functions is important in countries around the world, including today’s nominally egalitarian, Western democracies, for at least two reasons. First, it is important to understand how inequality impacts talk because an important form of inequality – economic inequality – is rising; leading scholars to dub our era as the “Second Gilded Age” (Bartels 2008; see also Piketty 2014). Second, as I endeavour to illustrate in my dissertation, material and social inequalities can structure agents’ cognitive and motivational dispositions in ways that engender internal exclusions, resulting in ongoing asymmetries of communicative participation and influence even after formal prohibitions to participation have been removed. Cognitive and motivational structures that discourage historically disempowered groups from participating in discursive politics, and undermine their discursive influence even when they do participation, help keep the legacy social inequality and exclusion – and the resulting harms of oppression and domination – alive.  I offer empirical evidence for my theoretical discussion of how the legacy of formal, structural inequality and exclusion can shape historically disempowered social group members’ social cognitive and motivational structures to engender internal exclusions that entail asymmetries of discursive participation and influence. Focusing on gender inequality (and the intersection of gender with ethnicity and poverty), I offer the first systematic study of the gender 27  gap in discursive political participation. I also offer evidence from a novel survey experiment which reveals that even when women are included in talk, they have less discursive influence than men.  My two empirical studies are important contributions because they offer convincing evidence for what many historically disempowered social group members (and allies) intuitively know: that even though disempowered group members are formally – legally – allowed to participate in talk and politics in Western democracies, we often find ourselves feeling muted. Even when we find our voices, we notice our utterances are often discounted. By offering evidence of ongoing gaps in communicative participation and influence, my empirical research does important political work by convincing skeptics that discursive inequality is an ongoing problem that needs to be addressed.  28  Chapter 2: Equality and Democracy  My dissertation starts with the normative precept that “more democracy is a good thing” (M. E. Warren 1999, 60). Democratic systems – characterised by institutions and procedures that promote self-development and self- and collective-rule – can be expected to produce functionally better (e.g., more responsive), and normatively better (i.e., more just), opinions, decisions, norms, and social conditions. Social systems vary in the degree to which they are democratic, and more democracy is always better, and always possible. Social systems are democratic to the extent that people are included in political practices (such as voting or deliberating), can communicatively link personal preferences into collective opinions and agendas, and are empowered to turn collective agendas into collective decisions (M. E. Warren 2017). I begin this chapter by explaining what I mean by “democratic systems,” and explain why the “systems” approach is superior to the “models” approach for studying democracy. The next three sections are dedicated to the three general democratic functions political systems must achieve before they can be considered “democratic.” In the second section of this chapter, I discuss the democratic function of empowered inclusion. Drawing on Iris Young (2000), I elucidate the relationship between structural equality and inclusion in social and political practices, and explain why democratic processes begin with the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective outcomes. I expand Bernard Williams’ (1972) notion that equality is comprised of two, at times contradictory, values, which I refer to as “universal equality” and “equity.”  In the third section, I build-out the collective opinion and agenda formation function. I describe five, interrelated component functions that fall under the general rubric of collective 29  opinion and agenda formation: the democratic social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation functions. I turn my attention to the collective decision-making function in the fifth section. Throughout my discussion of these three general democratic functions, I review different tools – resisting, talking, representing, voting, joining, and exiting –  that can be used to achieve these interrelated democratic functions. Finally, in the fifth section, I turn my attention to the problem of inequality. I introduce the idea that different forms of inequality – political, material, and interactional (including discursive) inequalities – can prevent political practices from achieving democratic functions.   2.1  A Systems Approach to Democratic Theory  What are social systems? On the one hand, social systems are comprised of socially- recognised – mutually comprehensible, and at least tacitly acknowledged – structures organising social life (e.g., J. Searle 2010; J. R. Searle 1995). These structures include language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance (including social identities and fields of social play), and other cultural artifacts that help define agents’ subjectivities, and enable and constrain agents’ practices. I discuss these structures in detail in Chapter 4 and Chapter 5. On the other hand, social systems are comprised of agents themselves, and agents’ responses to their social systems’ structures and to the material world. Bourdieu (2000, Chapter 4, pp. 128-164) describes agents as the embodiment of a “practical knowledge,” because they are shaped by their experiences in the world, and embody accumulated knowledge of personal and collective (cultural) life experiences. I return to this point in Chapter 4, “Practical Knowledge.”  30  Agents respond to social systems’ features through their practices, including through generic political practices that can serve democratic functions. Generic political practices are ideal-type social actions (in the Weberian sense of socially meaningful actions), commonly “organized or enabled by institutions that serve democratic functions: recognising, resisting, representing, deliberating, voting, joining, and exiting” (M. E. Warren 2017, 43). Agents maintain or modify social systems’ structures through their everyday activity, through available procedures for changing social systems’ structures, and through confrontation (Tully 2002, 2008a, 2008b). I describe how different tools can serve democratic functions in the next section of this chapter. In Chapter 3, I explain why talking, in particular, is essential for achieving democratic collective opinion and agenda formation functions. Within social systems, sets of political institutions – which I collectively refer to as social systems’ political systems – are designed to coordinate, organise, and direct the shared intentions and understandings inscribed in social systems’ mutually comprehensible and at least tacitly acknowledged language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts. Institutions are “rule-based, incentivized, and sociologically stable combinations of social actions that assign roles to individuals (e.g., voter, representative, etc.)” (M. E. Warren 2017, 43). Political institutions refer to institutions relevant for governing, or exercising a directing or restraining influence over social systems’ language games, social institutions, spaces of public appearance, and cultural artifacts. As such, political institutions play an essential role in distributing social and political empowerments.  Because political systems direct and coordinate social systems’ structures, they enable and constrain agents’ choices for responding to these structures (Tully 2002, 2008b, 2008a). For instance, when political systems record equal rights into law, they symbolically consecrate 31  symmetrical power relations that entail inclusions in language games, institutions (including political institutions), spaces of public appearance, and so on. In so doing, political systems enable more equal opportunities to participate in and influence social and political practices through everyday activity and normal procedures for challenging social systems’ features. However, political systems can also record distinctions between social groups into law, and symbolically consecrate asymmetrical power relations that entail the exclusion of the disempowered. In so doing, political systems create asymmetrical opportunities for participating in, and influencing, social and political practices.  Social systems – and the sets of political institutions that direct social systems’ structures – range in the degree to which they are democratic or oppressive. Democratic social systems exist when relatively equal conditions engender symmetrical empowerments so that those affected by social systems’ structures have opportunities for self-development, and to participate in and influence self- and collective-rule. More specifically, we can say that social systems and their sets of political institutions are democratic to the extent that they achieve three interrelated functions. First, by definition, social systems’ structures must engender symmetrical empowerments that entail inclusions in practices of self- and collective-rule. Second, practices of self- and collective-rule must involve forming individual preferences into collective opinions (collective understandings about the nature of issues of collective concern) and agendas or wills (shared intentions about what should be done about issues of collective concern). Third, practices of collective-rule must involve empowering collectives – for instance, political communities (municipalities, regional governments, countries, etc.), or other governance bodies (condominium strata councils, school boards, unions, etc.) – to execute collective agendas as collective decisions.  32  Oppression and domination, by contrast, refer to situations in which inequalities engender asymmetrical empowerments that entail exclusions, preventing the disempowered from participating in self-development or using political practices to challenge or change social systems’ structures. Social systems are “oppressive” to the extent that asymmetrical empowerments entail structural (group-based) exclusions that perpetuate systematic constraints on social group members, preventing them from participating in language games and processes of mutual recognition. Social systems are characterised by “domination” to the extent that asymmetrical political empowerments entail structural (group-based) exclusions that perpetuate systematic constraints on social group members, preventing them from participating in or influencing political practices through normal activity. Social systems are also characterised by domination when there are no available procedures for modifying social systems’ structures, or available procedures fail to address systematic constraints on social group members’ capacity for self-development and self- and collective-rule. These systemic constraints are “not necessarily the result of the intentions of a tyrant” (Young 2011, 41). Rather, structural oppression is a property of social systems, “embedded in the unquestioned norms, habits, and symbols, in the assumptions underlying institutional rules and the collective consequences of following those rules.” Structural oppression cannot easily be eliminated by simply changing the rulers or drafting new laws, because oppressions are systematically reproduced in social systems’ language games, institutions (including social, political, and economic institutions), spaces of public appearance, and other structures. I return to this topic at length in Chapter 6, “Inequality, Oppression, and Domination.” As I mentioned in my Introduction (Chapter 1), when I refer to equality (or inequality) I am referring to “structural equality,” or equality between salient social group members (rather 33  than, say, idiosyncratic differences between individuals) (Harell and Stolle 2010). Social groups are an expression of social relations, since “a group only exists in relation to another group” (Young 2011, 43). Salient social groups can include class, gender, language, and ethnic, racial or religious groups.  Note that social group memberships and collective social identities are not the same thing. Social group membership is involuntary: material conditions (e.g., the economic conditions delineating classes) and collective understandings or assumptions inscribed in social systems’ structures (e.g., the social and political conditions delineating racial categories) ascribe social group memberships. People can “recognize that they belong to any number of social groups without adopting those classifications as social identities” (Brewer 1991).  The worker without class consciousness is still defined as a worker by their position in a capitalist economy, and Rachel Dolezal is still defined as a white woman by her privileged position in a racist social system that empowers white people relative to people of colour (Oluo 2017). I return to the topic of collective social identities at length in Chapter 5, “Spaces of Public Appearance.”     2.1.1 Benefits of the Systems Approach  As Warren (2017) explains, democratic theorists typically think in terms of “models of democracy,” defining democracy in terms of a single feature or mechanism (such as deliberative democracy, aggregative democracy, pluralist democracy, and so on). And while the models’ approach has some benefits – such as clarifying normative presuppositions, and helping democratic theorists think through better or worse forms of democracy – the models thinking has several problems that hamper democratic theory’s progress. For one thing, centering thinking on 34  one defining feature of democracy (e.g., deliberation or elections) leads to overextended claims for that feature. This can lead to treating a specific feature of democracy as if it were self-sufficient, and organise other problems of democracy out of the picture.  Warren (2017, 40) gives the example of how deliberative democratic theorists’ focus on deliberation spurred a productive discussion of how individuals can form individual preferences into collective agendas. However, this comes at the expense of other problems of democracy, such as the “problems of distributions of power and voice, and actionable decision mechanisms” (2017, 40). As Warren (2017, 40) notes, “a model of deliberative democracy, insofar as it is centred on deliberation, is not a theory of power, nor a theory of distribution, nor a theory of inequality, nor of political decision making.” Ultimately, the problem with the models approach is that it provides “the same answers (e.g., deliberation or elections) to different problems of democratic political organization (in particular, empowered inclusion, collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision making)” (M. E. Warren 2017, 41).  The systems approach avoids conflating single institutions (such as deliberation) with “democracy,” so we can “ask the normative question as to whether any particular institutional organization of practices serves democratic functions within its context” (2017, 43). In the next three sections of this chapter, I describe the three broad functions – empowered inclusion, collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision-making – in more detail, and describe different political practices that can be used to achieve them.     35  2.2 Empowered Inclusion  Political systems are democratic to the extent that people are included in political practices (such as voting or deliberating), can communicatively link personal preferences into collective opinions and agendas, and are empowered to turn collective agendas into collective decisions (M. E. Warren 2017). It is important to note that democratic processes always begin – functionally and normatively – with inclusion. This is because the aims of forming collective opinions and agendas, and making collective decisions, are undermined if those affected by collective endeavours are excluded from participating in them (Fung 2013; Goodin 2007; Young 2000). As I began to explain in my Introduction, the norm of inclusion requires a degree of equality. “Equality,” broadly understood, can be thought of as empowerments that enable people to participate in forming individual and collective judgments and decisions through political liberties (i.e., equality entails the absence of constraints), as well as through positive supports to develop individual and collective capacities. Equality contains two distinct values (B. Williams 1972; see also Beauvais 2017; Beauvais and Bächtiger 2016). On the one hand, universal equality (or universal moral equality), requires abstracting from social circumstances, and recognizing the fundamental sameness of common humanity. The value of universal equality involves treating people as if they share a universal starting point (such as the same baseline of moral worth) and have the same fundamental needs (such as the need for life, liberty, and security of the person).  However, group members do not “arrive at life’s starting lines” with equal resources (M. S. Williams 2000, 60). The second value of equality is equity, or when justice demands attending 36  to social circumstance and recognising group-based differences between people. “Justice” here refers not only to recognising class or economic differences when redistributing wealth, but more generally to any enabling conditions necessary for “the development and exercise of individual capacities” (Young 2011, 39). Unlike universal moral equality, the value of equity involves treating social group members as if they have different starting points – different access to wealth and power, or different physical, cognitive, or linguistic styles and abilities – and so have different needs for developing and exercising individual capacities to their fullest extent. Various political theorists have described the concept of equity in different ways. Melissa Williams (2000, 61) describes this concept as “difference-conscious equality,” which draws attention to social diversity. Jack Knight and James Johnson (1997, 292) describe the value as “substantive equality,” which draws attention to the fact that realising equality of some outcome (such as equal political influence) may require efforts “that treat individuals unequally” (p. 280). I prefer “equity” – which comes from the Latin aequitas, and denotes fairness or justice – because the term connotes attending to diverse social circumstances and treating people differently based on claims to justice. When Aquinas wrote of aequitas in the Summa, he defined it as “the quality which pertains to moderating the letter of the law” (quoted in Skinner 2002, 49). Recall that when I refer to equality’s twin values I am referring to structural universal equality or structural equity between salient social group members (Harell and Stolle 2010).  Both the value of universal equality and the value of equity can – and should – be accommodated in democratic systems, through different political practices and institutional arrangements. For instance, democratic systems must enable empowerments through a baseline of universal equality enshrined as rights and freedoms, such as the universal freedom to organise, speak, and engage in other political acts. But in political systems where historical inequalities 37  result in continuing asymmetries in social group members’ abilities to use these universal empowerments, it may be necessary to pursue the value of equity to promote the empowered inclusion of historically disadvantaged group members. For instance, targeted “get out the vote” campaigns may be designed to motivate the poor, or new citizens to vote in general elections. One of the most important set of institutions for guaranteeing the condition of universal equality is the recognition of universal rights, including political participation rights and political freedoms, typically enshrined in constitutional law and protected through the doctrine of state neutrality. Preserving political equality through a system of rights entails moral inclusion, and expands “deontic commitments” that “support rights and duties of citizenship” (M. E. Warren 2017, 46). Law and the judiciary can also be used to promote equity. For instance, by making legal provisions for promoting the economic and political participation of disadvantaged or historically disempowered group members. The aim of Canada’s “Employment Equity Act” is to “correct the conditions of disadvantage in employment experienced by women, aboriginal peoples, persons with disabilities and members of visible minorities” through “special measures,” which includes preferential hiring systematically underrepresented social group members (Government of Canada 1995 see “Purpose of Act,” paragraph 2 ). The condition of equality provided by the recognition of universal rights and group-based differences is requisite for achieving the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective agenda formation and decision-making.  Voting and representing are two other useful generic practices that can be used to achieve the twin values of equality and – ultimately – the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective outcomes in collective agenda formation and decision-making.  The value of universal 38  equality informs the cornerstone of fair representation in liberal democracies through the doctrine of “one person one vote,” or the equal opportunity for every enfranchised citizen to influence the outcome of an election. Voting is a useful way to distribute empowerments across populaces, particularly large, heterogeneous populaces (since voting preserves expressions of dissent) (M. E. Warren 2017). However, the drawback for inclusion is that voting requires a defined populace – the demoi must be preformed, typically delineated by the rules of citizenship or enfranchisement.  Representation is another particularly useful tool for empowering inclusion because it can expand inclusion over space and time (e.g., to include considerations that affect future generations). Representation can be used to achieve either universal equality or equity, for instance by reserving seats in decision-making bodies for specific group members to guarantee some notion of just (equal or equitable) representation. For instance, efforts to ensure universal equality include using the principle of “representation by population” to elect a federation’s lower legislative house’s representatives, to ensure each voter has equal (the same) influence.  Or efforts may be made to ensure the over-representation of certain groups, to guarantee some notion of equitable representation and influence. For instance, institutions may be designed to ensure an equitable representation of all voters through “representation by region,” to achieve the equal representation of regions (and thus over-representation of voters in sparsely populated sub-national regions) in a federation’s upper legislative house.  Other efforts to achieve equitable representation in the public sphere might include reserving seats for women on a company’s or university’s board of directors. Other efforts in civil society might include selective recruitment techniques to achieve the over-representation of women in feminist civic associations, to create 39  spaces where feminist women can invent “new terms for describing social reality” (Fraser 1990, 67).  Note that talk (including deliberation) is often less effective at achieving equality and equity-based empowered inclusion. Perhaps most obviously, talking privileges speech (verbal communication, but also reading and writing), which potentially excludes non-speaking agents, and those who cannot read or write in the language of conversation, including people with certain cognitive or neurological disorders, or foreign-language speakers. Talking, and especially deliberation, may also privilege forms or habits of speech (articulateness, pitch of voice, and so on) that correlate with class, race, gender or socioeconomic status to produce internal exclusions – a point I return to throughout my dissertation.  There are also practical reasons for why talking is often less effective for achieving equality and empowered inclusion. For one thing, talk – particularly face-to-face talk – may require making decisions about who is included and who is excluded in communicative exchanges, since it is impossible for an unlimited number of people to participate simultaneously in a single conversation. Talk that is aimed at an indefinite or unlimited number of people (such as radio broadcasts or podcasts, or social media posts such as tweets), is often unidirectional, and thus may be less effective at achieving talk’s strengths related to inclusion. For instance, unidirectional talk may be less responsive to persons and groups, and those with greater resources (such as the wealthy, politically powerful, or famous) will have greater access to media for broadcasts, and will reach a far greater audience through social media. Finally, unidirectional, mass public talk may be only weakly characterised by the moral commitments that arise during face-to-face social interaction and talk (e.g., Goffman 1967).  40  2.3 Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation   When a baseline of universal equality and equity engenders symmetrical empowerments that entail inclusions in political practices, agents can effectively participate in forming individual preferences and interests into collective opinions and wills (M. E. Warren 2017, 44). The intuition informing this general democratic function is the idea that individual preferences need to be communicatively linked to collective judgements to link self-government with collective governance. As Warren (2017) notes, talking (including deliberating) is the most important and effective tool for connecting individual judgments to collective agendas.  To assess political systems’ democratic problem-solving capacities related to the collective opinion and agenda formation function, it is useful to build-out Warren’s description of connecting individual judgements to collective agendas, and ask what distinct aims (or sub-functions) must be achieved to form individual opinions and wants into collective opinions and wills. In other words, what do political practices need to accomplish to effectively link individual preferences to collective opinions and wills?  For one thing, for people to communicatively link their preferences to any kind of larger collectivity, they need opportunities to talk to others – they must have links to a broader collective of people. That is, social ties are required to create opportunities for communicatively linking individual preferences to collective agendas. More specifically, non-hierarchical social ties that cross-cut salient social group boundaries are required for people to democratically form individual wills into collective wills through communicative processes. Borrowing terminology from Allison Harell and Dietlind Stolle (2010), I refer to this component of the collective agenda formation function as the social integration function. 41  Second, people need to be willing or even motivated to link their preferences with others to form collective agendas, which means that they must be willing and motivated to listen to others, and afford others the respect of taking their preferences into account. Furthermore, they must be willing and motivated to express themselves to others, and because self-disclosure entails vulnerability, they must have faith in others to respect them enough to take their preferences into account. In other words, facilitative attitudes (including mutual respect, trust, mutual liking or at least tolerance, and empathy) that lubricate social interaction and communication by promoting reciprocity are required for people to democratically form individual wills into collective wills through communicative processes. I refer to this component of the collective agenda formation function as the reciprocity function. Just as people must have confidence in others before they can engage in self-disclosure and communicatively express their preferences to form collective agendas, people must have a healthy degree of confidence in themselves. A healthy, non-debased degree of self-confidence and self-efficacy is required so speakers can weather the strain of vulnerability to express themselves and their preferences to others. A healthy, non-narcissistic (that is, not unrealistically exaggerated) degree of self-confidence and self-efficacy is also helpful, since narcissists may be unwilling to reconsider or modify their own preferences to form them into collective agendas.  I refer to this component of the collective agenda formation function as the personality function.  When agents have the opportunity and willingness to talk to one another, and basic capacity to express themselves (and listen) to others, they should learn from one another. Through the process of communicatively linking their preferences with others to form collective agendas, people should discover and share new information and considerations, and sharpen (and 42  possibly change and improve) one another’s personal understandings and preferences. I refer to this component of the collective agenda formation function as the learning function.  Finally, discursively generated mutual understandings and agreements should underwrite commitment to communicatively constituted collective agendas. People who have the opportunity, motivation, and capacity to participate in communicative processes can then learn from one another and form their individual preferences into collective wills. And because they were empowered to participate in communicative processes, and refined their own preferences with others, they develop confidence or faith in the resulting agendas. I refer to this component of the collective agenda formation function as the legitimation function. I return to these five necessary democratic aims constituting “collective opinion and agenda formation” – the democratic social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation functions – in Chapter 3, where I focus my attention more narrowly on the generic practice of talking, and how talking can be used to achieve the interrelated collective opinion and agenda formation functions. I also discuss the problem of when inequality and exclusion prevent talking from achieving these normatively necessary democratic aims.  2.4 Collective Decision-Making  In addition to empowered inclusion and collective opinion and agenda formation, democracies must accomplish a democratic collective decision-making function. Like empowered inclusion, collective decision-making is about empowerment. However, while empowered inclusion pertains to individual empowerment, collective decision-making pertains to collective empowerment, or governance. As Warren (2017, 44) describes, this occurs “when 43  collectives have the capacity to make and impose binding decisions upon themselves; it is about ‘getting things done’.”  The decision-making function is implied in the very definition of democracy, since democracy is about participating in self- and collective-rule. Perhaps the best tools for achieving democratic collective decision-making are voting and representing. Voting enables clear decision-rules, and preserves dissent, and representative bodies can function usefully as accountable decision-making bodies. Exit is also useful, because it can offer varied and proximate responsiveness (although suffers the drawback of low collective agency).   Talk, however, is less useful as a collective decision-making device. Although talking – particularly deliberation – can generate mutual understandings and agreements that underwrite decisions, talking is not inherently a decision-rule. While talk can be a used as a consensus decision-making device, in today’s modern mass democracies collective decision-making is usually achieved by voting (and majority rule), even in deliberative contexts such as parliaments and courts. As Robert E. Goodin (2008, 107) suggests, there are good reasons to use talking as a “discovery procedure” preceding decision-making, rather than as a decision-method in and of itself, or in Goodin’s words, there are good reasons to “first talk, then vote.” As Goodin (2008) explains, talking gets different options on the table and allows discussants to better understand the benefits and drawbacks of different options, thus serving a learning function before decision-making takes place. However, as a decision-method procedure sui generis, talking suffers from the drawbacks of indeterminacy and path-dependency. And, of course, in modern, pluralised mass democracies, talk-based, consensual decision-making is often not a practical option for many or most collective decisions. For these reasons, I do not focus on using talk as a device to achieve the democratic decision-making function in my dissertation. Instead, I focus my 44  discussion on using talk as a device for achieving democratic collective opinion and agenda formation, a point I return to in Chapter 3.   2.5 The Problem of Inequality  As I have explained, a degree of structural equality is required for political practices to achieve their democratic inclusion, collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision-making functions. Harell and Stolle (2010) identify three structural gaps among salient social groups that can prevent practices such as deliberating and voting from functioning democratically: political gaps, economic gaps, and gaps in resources that otherwise should facilitate economic and political equality. Political and material (economic and resource-based) structural inequalities are “objective” inequalities in the sense that they entail external exclusions constraining disempowered social group members’ (or enable empowered social group members’) participation in political, economic, and social practices, regardless of agents’ subjective understandings, desires, or motivations. Clearly, structural gaps in political rights between social groups entail asymmetrical power relations and formal political exclusions. For instance, limiting political participation rights to white, property-owning men obviously enhances white, property owning men’s political power relative to other social group members’. And the prohibitions preventing disempowered group members from legally participating in politics clearly entail external exclusions from voting, running for office, or other political activities. Structural political inequalities and external exclusion contribute to harms of oppression, rendering people of colour, the proletariat, 45  and women powerless, and marginalising them from the deontic commitments that support the rights and duties of citizenship. Another example of when structural gaps in political rights entail asymmetrical empowerments and formal political exclusion occurs when group members are unfairly represented (unequally or un-equitably, depending on the demands of justice) in political decision-making bodies. When women are underrepresented in parliament, and there are few (or no) women to bring up matters particularly salient to women constituents, then debates are less likely to consider women’s issues. Furthermore, in such situations representation is less likely to extend inclusions. For instance, when parliamentary debates fail to consider women’s issues here and now, it is even less likely that parliamentary debates will consider issues that affect future generations of women.  Economic inequalities and resource-gaps also entail asymmetrical power relations and external exclusions from political practices. Recall my examples from Chapter 3, of when poor people who are unable to afford the cost of “pay-for-access” fundraisers are excluded from attending functions where they could meet politicians and other influential members of society. By economic inequality I am referring to structural income-gaps between social groups, whereas by resource-gaps I am referring to structural differences in the ability to access resources that facilitate economic and political participation (Harell and Stolle 2010). Perhaps most obviously, resource-gaps include things such as access to housing and leisure time. However, another category of important resources are materially-important social ties. I define materially-important social ties as social ties to politically or economically powerful actors.  Aggregate asymmetries in materially-important social ties between social group members can exacerbate economic and political inequality, and generate external exclusions. For instance, 46  in many societies men maintain disproportionate control over the economy through ownership or management of land and natural resources, financial capital, companies, and so on. Men’s disproportionate economic control in and of itself represents an economic-gap between men and women. However, social ties to those who have control over resources is a resource-gap that facilitates economic participation and influence (or potentially political participation and influence). When men have more social ties to people who control the economy through ownership and management of the means of production (for instance, because men tend to have more ties with other men than women do), then this represents gaps in materially-important social ties.  Like political inequality, economic and resource-based inequalities generate asymmetrical power relations that entail the external exclusion of the disempowered, and so prevent generic practices from serving democratic functions. People and groups with greater economic wealth and control over resources have greater capacity to resist, and exert greater influence through joining (in the sense that they are over-represented in well-organised and well-financed groups and associations), excluding less organised social group members from fair influence in collective communicative and decision-making processes. Finally, because of their organisational strength, social group members with greater economic wealth and control over resources may exert disproportionate power through exit, again depriving less well-organised, disempowered social group members from fair influence in collective communicative and decision-making processes. The exclusions that unequal political rights, and economic or material inequalities entail are “external” in that they preclude disempowered social group members from participating in politics at all (Young 2000). These inequalities prevent disempowered social group members 47  from legally casting a ballot, affording a donation, or having time to associate with like-minded people.  Most democratic theories consider the problem of external exclusion, and “call for limiting the influence of wealth or position on the ability to participate in a democratic process” (Young 2000, 55).  However, inequality can also structure social cognition to engender internal exclusions. Internal exclusions refer to when, even in the absence of formal political or economic asymmetries, socio-cognitive features shape how people view themselves and other social group members to engender asymmetries in political participation and influence. Consider how those who have historically been excluded from the franchise – women, the poor, or non-whites – may internalise a sense of “feeling out of place” in politics. People who feel out of place in politics are less likely to participate in practices such as voting or deliberating, even after formal prohibitions to their participation have been lifted. And when people internalise a feeling that women, the working class, and non-whites are “out of their league” in political activity, they may dismiss or ignore these disempowered group members’ contributions when they do participate in politics. Inequality and the external and internal exclusions it engenders can be thought of as “systematic constraints” on social group members that prevent or exclude them from developing or exercising their individual capacities (contributing to harms of oppression), and prevent them from participating in political practices to influence the norms and laws that affect them (contributing to domination) (Young 2011, 41). Both the absence of universal moral equality (e.g., when slavery or apartheid precludes social group members from moral personhood, and from enjoying life, liberty, and security), and the absence of equity (e.g., the absence of enabling 48  efforts to help disadvantaged social group members) act as disabling constraints that entail exclusions, contributing to, or reinforcing systems of oppression and domination. Under conditions of inequality and exclusion, political practices such as talking or voting can reinforce oppressive political systems. Continuing with my example of a restricted franchise, consider how, until the 20th century, legal prohibitions precluded women from voting or running for office in most jurisdictions, and clear normative expectations regarding women’s place in society – as caregivers (often in the private sphere) – contributed to their external exclusion from political and economic participation and influence. These legal and normative prohibitions on women’s participation in politics and often in the paid labour market were designed to maintain asymmetrical empowerments (men’s domination of women), that entailed external exclusions (the exclusion of women from political practices that contribute to self-development and self- and collective rule). And while women of colour, such as black women in the United States, appeared to achieve greater equality relative to black men because the legacy of slavery forced black women to work on par with black men, systems of white supremacy worked in conjunction with patriarchal systems to exclude women and people of colour from participating in the (white, male) public sphere (e.g., see A. Y. Davis 1981).   Men’s and women’s participation/non-participation in politics and the economy contributed to a system of racialized patriarchal domination, since women could not determine their actions or the conditions of their actions. It also contributed to harms of oppression, binding women in relations of dependence and powerlessness, marginalising them from public life, and enabling the exploitation of their unpaid sexual and emotional labour (Pateman 1988; Young 2011). The exploitation of women’s unpaid sexual and emotional labour was also racialized. After the Industrial Revolution (when mechanisation made many of women’s jobs obsolete), 49  women (particularly white women) became venerated for their roles as wives and mothers – as caregivers in the private sphere – opening them to the exploitation of their emotional labour, and to domestic sexual violence (A. Y. Davis 1981). However, because white racism denies the equal moral equality of non-whites, including the moral equality of women of colour “as women,” women of colour were particularly vulnerable to sexual violence.   2.5.1 Interactional (Including Discursive) Inequalities and Internal Exclusion  The problems of political and material inequality I have described so far – political participation rights gaps, economic gaps, and resource gaps – mostly engender external exclusions. But today, formal prohibitions on women’s participation in the paid labour market and politics have been removed: employers are not allowed to openly discriminate against women when hiring, and men and women enjoy the same political rights (to vote, associate, run for office, and so on). But the historical memory of patriarchal power relations – the formally legal and explicit distinction between women’s roles as caretakers, particularly (at least among white women) in the private sphere, and white men’s roles as providers and decision-makers, particularly in the public sphere – remain as implicit associations in schemes of thought and expression that entail internal exclusions.  Democratic systems not only benefit from structural political and material equalities, they benefit from interactional equalities. Interactional equality refers to the ideal of equal opportunities for participation and equitable influence in social interaction across and within salient social groups in democratic systems. Interactional inequality is not an “objective” 50  inequality in the sense that it does not only involve external structures (a system of political rights, the distribution of economic opportunities and resources) that shape agents’ life chances regardless of their thoughts and feelings. Rather, interactional inequalities refer to when objective inequalities structure agents’ subjectivities – their thoughts and feelings – to shape their interactions with others.  While objective inequalities entail external exclusions (or constraints) that prevent agents from participating in or influencing practices of self-development and collective rule, interactional inequalities entail internal exclusions (or constraints) that prevent agents from participating in or influencing practices of self-development and collective rule. To understand the relationship between inequality and exclusion – and the distinction between objective/interactional inequalities and external/internal exclusions – let me consider the example of women’s political engagement. A restricted franchise that prohibits women from voting entails women’s external exclusion from electoral participation. Restrictive electoral laws are an external barrier preventing women from participating in and influencing elections, irrespective of women’s (or men’s) thoughts or motivations.  However, even after women’s enfranchisement – after formal, external legal barriers to their participation were dismantled – women did not begin voting or participating in politics at the same rate as men. The norm (or intersubjectively held belief) that politics is a man’s game (particularly, in Western democracies, a white man’s game), or that women are not suited for politics, are interactional inequalities that entails women’s internal exclusion from political engagement. For instance, the gender gap in self-perceptions of political understanding – the tendency for women to be significantly more likely than men to agree that “politics is too complicated for a person like me to understand” – which reduces women’s belief that they 51  should or can participate in politics, is an interactional inequality (Gidengil, Giles, and Thomas 2008; Thomas 2012). This form of inequality clearly does not entail “external” exclusions, since it is not an external barrier preventing agents from participating in social and political practices irrespective of their thoughts and motivations. Rather, it refers to when intersubjectively held understandings or assumptions become “internal barriers” in cognitive and motivational structures, preventing agents from participating in social and political practices.  Interactional inequality and internal exclusion not only affect all generic practices that serve democratic functions, but affect all practices, including ostensible non-political, social practices such as dating and marrying, learning and getting accreditation, job searching and working, to name a few (e.g., Bourdieu 1977, 1990, 2000). However, the primary aims of my dissertation are to understand how talk contributes to collective opinion and agenda formation, and to offer a better understanding of the problem that inequality presents to talk and democracy. Given the purpose of my dissertation, I focus my analysis on one form of interactional (in)equality: discursive (in)equality.  Discursive inequalities engender unjustifiable, structural asymmetries of communicative participation and influence. Discursive inequalities are disabling constraints that entail internal exclusions, undermining disempowered social group members’ participation and influence in communicative processes. Discursive inequalities reinforce existing systems of oppression and domination, since the disempowered cannot participate in (and may not even be motivated to participate in) language games and self-expression, or political practices to modify their social and political conditions. Discursive inequalities contribute to the internal exclusion of disempowered group members by influencing how people perceive speakers from social outgroups, and how they perceive themselves and other speakers from social ingroups. 52  As a point of clarification, note that both objective inequalities and interactional inequalities generate exclusions that prevent talking (and other practices) from functioning democratically. However, because the problem of objective inequalities and external exclusion has been more thoroughly theorised and researched, most of my dissertation focuses more how internal exclusions prevent talking from functioning democratically. Note also that the concept of “discursive equality” – of equal opportunities for communicative participation and equitable communicative influence across salient social groups in a democratic system – is a regulative ideal. Even the best functioning, most egalitarian utopias will always stop short of this ideal, because (at the very least) of the challenge of including those with severe cognitive or certain neurological disabilities in communicative processes. These inclusions can be achieved in part through relations of care and representation, but expressions of preferences might still be lost, misunderstood, or misrepresented.  As Jane Mansbridge (2015) argues, power is always unavoidably at play when we use language, but the closer we get to an absence of power, the better discursive political practices are on normative grounds. The point of a regulative ideal is that we aim to approximate it, even if we can never perfectly achieve it. This means that the closer we approximate to the ideal of discursive equality, the better our always imperfect practices achieve their democratic functions. And to reiterate, more democracy is always possible, and always better.     53  2.6 Conclusion  Political systems are democratic to the extent that people are empowered to participate in political practices – voting, representing, deliberating, resisting, and so on – that contribute to self-development and self- and collective-rule (M. E. Warren 2017; Young 2011). Equality and inclusion functionally precede the democratic aims of collective opinion and agenda formation, and collective decision-making. Equality means that empowerments are distributed in ways that enable those affected by collective endeavours to participate in, and influence all social practices. Equality means that empowerments are distributed symmetrically, so that all agents are included in participating in and influencing cultural reproduction, social identifications, and fields of social play. Most importantly for my dissertation topic, equality means that empowerments are distributed symmetrically to entail inclusion in generic political practices that serve democratic functions, such as voting, representing, talking, and so on. Participating in and influencing political practices is necessary for agents to form individual preferences into collective wills, and – ultimately – for communities to make collective decisions. This, perhaps obviously, includes collective decisions about which social systems’ features should be recorded into law, and how law should coordinate social systems’ language games and other institutional and cultural artefacts, spaces of public appearance, and power relations.   The problem of inequality (including discursive inequality) for the practice of talk is threefold. I introduced the first problem in this chapter, and will elaborate my discussion in Chapter 3, “Talk and Collective Agenda Formation.” Specifically, that under conditions of inequality, political practices – including talk – are less likely to function democratically. The second problem is that under conditions of inequality, talk can contribute to harms of oppression. 54  The third problem is that under conditions of inequality, disagreement and misunderstanding are less likely to be solved through deliberation – which, as I will explain, contributes to domination. I address these final two problems in Chapter 6, “Inequality, Oppression, and Domination.” As I explain in Chapter 6, the problem of structural political and material inequalities generates asymmetrical power relations that exclude the disempowered from participating in and influencing communicative processes, and so bring democratic systems further from the ideal of discursive equality. Even after large objective (political and material) inequalities have been addressed, inequalities can remain as systems of perception and evaluation, structuring everyday interaction and communication to produce asymmetries in communicative participation and influence, bringing democratic systems further from the ideal of discursive equality.  55  Chapter 3: Talk and Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation  Equality means that empowerments are distributed in ways that enable those affected by collective endeavours to participate in and influence social and political practices. Inequality is a problem, because inequality means asymmetrical power relations entail the exclusion of the disempowered from participating in and influencing political practices. In this chapter, I describe how talk achieves collective opinion and agenda formation functions, and the problem of when inequality prevents talking from achieving this set of democratic functions. In the first section of this chapter, I explain what I mean by the generic function of “talk,” distinguishing between the concepts of talk and social interaction. I also identify two forms of talk, differentiating between deliberation and everyday talk. In the second section of this chapter, I extend my discussion from Chapter 1 on the collection opinion and agenda formation functions. I review the idea that collective opinion and agenda formation is comprised of at least five distinguishable but interrelated components: the social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation functions. I elaborate why each of these components are normatively necessary for democratic collection opinion and agenda formation, explaining why talk is so important for achieving each of them. In the second section, I also specify whether deliberation or everyday talk is best for achieving each of the different collective agenda formation component functions. In the third section of this chapter I return to a central idea from Chapter 2, that equality engenders symmetrical empowerments that entail inclusion, and empowered inclusion is required before talking functions democratically. I elucidate how different forms of inequality, 56  including discursive inequality, can prevent talk from achieving each of the component collective opinion and agenda formation functions.    3.1 Forms of Talk   3.1.1 Talk Versus Social Interaction  I am not only interested in the political practice of deliberation, but am more broadly interested in using talk to achieve democratic functions. But what is “talking”? Talking or communication refers broadly to using signs or signifiers to express something to someone. Often, these signs or signifiers are words or utterances – either spoken, written, or signed – but communication can include other signifiers used to connote and exchange meanings between people, such as a loud sigh or a raised eyebrow. Although much of what we think of as communication takes place in face-to-face interaction, communication also takes place over time, through stories and texts passed down inter-generationally, and across geographical space through a variety of communication and telecommunication formats. Communication can be highly mediated and unidirectional, as is the case of radio or television broadcasts and podcasts, public speeches, and government or corporate statements and news releases in the mass public. Much of what I refer to as communication overlaps with what sociologists refer to as social interaction, which refers to an exchange (a two-way effect) between two or more people, often occurring face-to-face (David Jary and Jary 1995). I eschew the term social interaction in my analysis because this term is simultaneously too specific and too unspecific. It is too specific in the sense that social interaction requires an exchange between multiple parties, whereas 57  talking does not. Ideally, people “think through” issues and potential solutions themselves, before they speak to others (essentially silently talking through the issues themselves). And as anyone with a graduate degree knows, people regularly write and publish knowing their words will likely go unread. As these two examples demonstrate, communicative activities might only involve one person, 1 and so are not included in the sociological definition of social interaction as an exchange between two or more people. Similarly, the mediated, unidirectional nature of communication in the mass public sphere (for instance, from media broadcasters to the public) is less of an “exchange,” and so is not obviously a social interaction. The term social interaction is too unspecific in the sense that an exchange between two or more people may be largely meaningless, and I am only interested in exchanges imbued with meaning, or communication as social action. If a woman sits next to a stranger on a bus, and the seated stranger, without looking up, moves over slightly to accommodate the woman next to them, we could say they have interacted. But I am less interested in this kind of reciprocal effect between two or more agents, and more interested in social actions, when interactions are used to (or are interpreted to) signify meaning.  Consider again the example of a woman sitting next to a stranger on the bus, only imagine now that the woman sitting down has a facial disfigurement. The stranger, noticing the disfigurement, might become stiff with discomfort and press themselves as far away from the woman as they can, quickly averting their wide-eyed gaze. This interaction is communicative in that it expresses something – discomfort, perhaps surprise or disgust – which can be perceived and understood by the disfigured woman and others.                                                    1 Other than in the abstract sense of involving communication with “generalised others.” 58   3.1.2 A Shared Background of Implicit Mutual Understandings  The bulk of human communication and language games take place against social systems’ backgrounds of shared attitudes, competencies, and practices, including the implicit understandings or assumptions about what makes a face or body normal, a reaction acceptable, an utterance correct or valid, or an argument adequate. Following Bourdieu, I argue that much public talk takes place in fields of public opinion (including public spheres), which can be sites for the “confrontation of competing discourses” (Bourdieu 1977, 16:168). However, the bulk of human conversations do not involve this clash of competing discourses, but rather take place against a shared backdrop of unproblematized mutual understandings, and are characterised by a shared naïve adherence to the world. I refer to talking that takes place against a shared backdrop of unproblematized mutual understandings as everyday communication or everyday talk. Everyday communication includes both communication about matters of collective concern as well as the more common and ubiquitous mundane communication. Mundane communication refers to everyday talk that is unrelated to issues of collective concern, and may be purely expressive (“I love baking!”), or functional (“please pass me that bag of sugar”). Everyday talk about matters of collective concern involve communication about issues that affect collective life (Jacobs, Cook, and Delli Carpini 2009; J. Mansbridge 1999). But, like mundane talk, everyday talk about matters of collective concern occurs within social systems’ background of shared attitudes, competencies, and practices.  59  Everyday talk is often (but not always) delimited by an orthodoxy in fields of public opinion. Orthodoxy refers to “straight, or rather straightened, opinion” (Bourdieu 1977, 16:169). Orthodoxy “delimits the universe of possible discourse,” constituting that which is “undiscussed, unnamed, admitted without argument or scrutiny” (Bourdieu 1977, 16:169–70). Orthodoxy exists in opposition to heterodoxy, which represents the choice of competing “possibles” and critique of an established order. Heterodoxy always implies the sum of alternatives not chosen, revealing the arbitrariness of political orders (in the sense that they are one option among many). Heterodoxy is created and expanded through the practice of epoché, or the “the deliberate, methodological suspension of naïve adherence to the world.” Epoché describes the state of suspending pre-existing judgements and treating matters as non-evident. Everyday communication – including everyday talk about matters of collective concern – is communication that lacks this element of suspending naïve adherence to the world.  3.1.3 Resolving Conflict and Misunderstanding Through Deliberation  The overwhelming bulk of communication is mundane talk, and the rarest form of communication is deliberation. Deliberation refers to when a special form of rational communication characterised by epoché is required to re-establish or establish understanding when the shared backdrop of mutual understanding inscribed in social systems’ language games, rites of institution, and spaces of public appearance that normally scaffolds communication is disturbed or is absent.  Ideally, deliberation is used to establish or re-establish understanding when social systems’ background assumptions are disturbed through disagreement or misunderstanding, such 60  disagreement or misunderstanding over the assumptions about what makes a face or body normal, a reaction acceptable, an utterance correct or valid, or an argument adequate. Deliberation should be used to establish or re-establish understanding in the face of disagreement or misunderstanding about norms, decisions, or collective understandings and action, such as whether and which collective understandings should be consecrated in law. Ideally, deliberation (with the help of translation) is also used to establish understanding when speakers do not share the same social system’s frame of reference, such as during inter-cultural or inter-linguistic communication.  Deliberation is “rational” in the sense that communication partners must establish or re-establish mutual understanding through reference to reasons, and not through custom and habit (such as that which is provided by social systems’ shared frames of reference), nor through force, coercion, or any other form of physical or symbolic violence. While the first normative precept guiding my dissertation is that democracy is a good thing, the second normative precept guiding my dissertation is that it is always better to solve disagreement or misunderstanding through deliberation, rather than through unthinking habit, force, or coercion (Chambers 1996).  Deliberation at both the macro-level and at the level of face-to-face interaction is essential for challenging and modifying social systems’ structures, whether formalised laws, or informal norms, habits, and assumptions inscribed in social systems’ language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and habitus. Deliberation also plays an essential role in fostering belief in the legitimacy of laws and norms. To understand what I mean by this, consider the example of interracial marriage in North America. There is a long history of regulating interracial intimacy in North America, through the United States (U.S.)’s state-level anti-miscegenation laws, Canada’s Indian Act, and through informal norms dissuading interracial 61  intermixing. And yet, today there is overwhelming support for interracial marriage in both countries (Thompson 2009).  Both macro- and micro-level deliberative processes were required for this shift toward acceptance. At the macro-level, discourses among U.S. state legislatures prohibiting interracial sex and marriage and the courts resulted in the landmark Loving v. Virginia (1967) Supreme Court case, which declared anti-miscegenation laws unconstitutional (Thompson 2009). This played an important role in changing the U.S. social system’s structures. Most obviously, the ruling changed the institution of marriage.  But it also changed spaces of public appearance and agents’ cognitive and motivational structures. Because the ruling consecrated this aspect of marriage equality by inscribing it in law (or more accurately, it consecrated this aspect of marriage equality by erasing the legal prohibition of inter-racial marriage), it created new space for discourse in the fields of public opinion. By publicising arguments for both sides, and ultimately communicating that the case for the Lovings’ union was stronger than the state of Virginia’s case against their marriage, the U.S. Supreme Court’s ruling helped push back against the orthodoxy of anti-miscegenation norms, and expand the field of heterodox public opinion. And agents in interracial marriages would no longer face the risk of criminal prosecution, and internalising damaged (i.e., criminalised) practical identities. Norms are more enduring than laws, and even after the 1967 ruling there were certainly many who still ascribed to the orthodoxy of anti-miscegenation norms and questioned the rightness of interracial marriage. Interracial couples legally allowed to marry in 1968 would still face the exhausting endeavour of trying to draw friends, family, and colleagues into epoché – into a willingness to suspend pre-existing judgements – long enough to listen to their rational 62  justification for the legality and normative rightness of interracial unions. But each interracial couple defending their union would be playing a small but important role in gradually changing social systems’ structures through micro-level processes of rational justification and opinion-change.  The distinction between everyday communication about matters of collective concern and deliberation is that everyday talk about matters of collective concern always relies upon the naïve acceptance of shared framework of understanding the world that remains unchallenged. Even in modern, pluralised, and diverse democratic social systems, where aggregate public opinion is characterised by a high degree of heterodoxy, most communication is everyday talk (and more specifically, most communication is mundane talk). This is because even though aggregate public opinion is diverse, people tend to talk about matters of collective concern with those who already share their opinions, and so do not have to hear challenges to their naïve assumptions about the world, or raise challenges to other people’s naïve assumptions (R. Huckfeldt et al. 1995; Mutz 2006).  Consider two feminists watching a 2016 news clip where the then-presidential hopeful Donald Trump responded to his infamous “grab her by the pussy” comment by claiming that no one respects women as much as he does, causing one of the two feminists to snort with derision. This snort is a politically expressive act, and one that the snorting feminist’s communication partner immediately understands. This is because both feminists share the same underlying assumption – that making casual comments about sexually assaulting women is definitively disrespectful to women – making the expressive snort immediately meaningful to both parties.  If the snorting feminist had been watching the news clip with a misogynist who regularly jokes about sexually assaulting women, the meaning of the feminist’s snort might be lost on their 63  communication partner (or the misogynist might disagree with the assumptions that make the snort meaningful). If the misogynist replied by saying, “Why are you snorting?” and the feminist had to explain what her snort means, the communicative snort about a matter of collective concern would – ideally – develop into deliberation, with the feminist and misogynist offering reasons for why comments about unwanted sexual touching are (or are not) harmful.  Note, firstly, that the distinction between communication about matters of collective concern and deliberation is primarily whether the shared backdrop of assumptions inscribed in social systems’ structures that scaffolds linguistic communication is problematized. That is, the distinction between everyday talk and deliberation is whether naïve adherence(s) to the world are brought into explicit discussion, which typically occurs in the face of disagreement or misunderstanding. And secondly, note that when the shared backdrop of mutual understandings is challenged, deliberation is defined as resolving the disagreement or misunderstanding through recourse to reasons, and not force or violence.  Political scientists tend to be interested in deliberation because of its importance for what we often denote by “politics.” Politics is often concerned with making group decisions, such as decisions about distributions of power and resources, or decisions about what constitutes normatively acceptable and unacceptable conduct, and – often – consecrating those decisions into law. When there is ambiguity or disagreement about the proper course of action, or about the laws or norms scaffolding everyday speech and action, deliberation at some stage of collective action and decision-making processes contributes to more fully-informed, thoughtful opinions, and helps ensure that collective outcomes (collective opinions and agendas, or collective decisions) are perceived as legitimate.  64  Even on those rarer occasions when political scientists study everyday communication, they often limit themselves to the small fragment of everyday talk related to public or collective concerns. For instance, Jane Mansbridge’s (1999, 214) conception of “everyday talk” is limited to “reasoning on issues that the public ought to discuss.” Similarly, Delli Carpini, Cook, and Jacobs (2004; see also Jacobs, Cook, and Delli Carpini 2009) limit their definition of “discursive politics” to those moments where “citizens talk about matters of collective concern.” But democratic theorists should also pay attention to everyday mundane talk. Together deliberation and communication about matters of collective concern only constitute a small fraction of the talking going on in social systems – the bulk of human communication is mundane chitchat. As I explain in the next section, mundane communication is essential for achieving democratic functions, particularly the reciprocity, personality, and social integration functions. And achieving these functions is essential for protecting speakers from the strain of conversations about matters of collective concern and deliberation, which are essential for achieving the learning and legitimation functions.  3.1.4 The Importance of Everyday Talk for Democracy  In this section I make the case for paying greater attention to everyday mundane talk, by drawing the link between mundane talk and deliberation. Specifically, by showing how everyday communication, and particularly mundane talk, is essential for building the kinds of relational ties and facilitative attitudes that allow speakers to withstand the strain of disagreement endemic to deliberation. Talking involves raising and responding to utterances, which always requires making and responding to requests or bids for connection (Driver and Gottman 2004; Gottman 65  and Driver 2005). Reciprocally affirming bids for connection fosters social ties, develops norms of reciprocity, and contributes to the intersubjective construction of healthy identities precisely because mundane talk tends to be affirming, and, unlike deliberation, is less likely to involve conflict. Consider the following chitchat after a church bake sale:  Sandra says to Cheryl: “I loved Dan’s shortbread.”  Cheryl replies to Sandra with a wink and says: “Almost as good as mine!”  Sandra smiles and answers: “Almost!”  When Sandra made the comment about Dan’s shortbread, she is doing more than commenting on someone else’s baking. She is requesting a response from her conversation partner, hoping to connect – even if only briefly – over shared experience or knowledge.  Cheryl could have rejected Sandra’s request to connect. For instance, Cheryl could have ignored Sandra and walked away in silence, or she could have responded with hostility, shouting: “EW! DAN’S COOKIES ARE DISGUSTING!” But that kind of response would be socially unacceptable and unexpected. Instead, Cheryl does the expected thing and accepts Sandra’s request for connection by replying to her utterance. By replying to Sandra’s utterance, Cheryl shows Sandra that she recognises and respects Sandra’s request for connection.2  Research shows that relationships are more likely to last when interaction partners respond to these requests, or “bids,” for connection by responding to, or “turning toward”  the request, as compared to when interaction partners ignore the request or respond with hostility, or                                                  2 Note that accepting someone’s request for connection – showing interest in their “bid” for connection – does not require agreeing with what they say. Cheryl might not love Dan’s shortbread, and she does not have to be disingenuous to accept Sandra’s request to connect (for instance, she does not have to lie and agree that the shortbread is good). Even if she hates Dan’s baking she could respond: “That’s very nice of you to say, you should tell Dan, he would be delighted!”  66  in the psychologists’ lingo, “turn away” from the request (Driver and Gottman 2004; Gottman and Driver 2005). Mundane talk may not be particularly important for promoting learning or opinion-change – mundane talk is often merely expressive and is aimed toward nothing more than talk itself – but because mundane chitchat involves reciprocally offering and responding to bids for connection, mundane chatting fosters social ties. Furthermore, mundane chitchat relies upon and develops expectations of communicative reciprocity: Sandra offers a bid for connection expecting that Cheryl will affirm it; Cheryl affirms Sandra’s bid; Cheryl now expects that when she makes a bid for connection (when she says something) Sandra will reciprocally affirm it by replying or acknowledging the utterance.  Mundane communication also plays a central role in developing personal and social identities. Consider how Cheryl, in addition to turning toward Sandra’s bid for connection, goes on to make her own request for connection by making a comment that Dan’s cookies are almost as good as hers, revealing her own self-perception related to her baking abilities (Cheryl reveals that she thinks she’s good at baking shortbread too). This sequence in the communicative interaction serves a personality function: Cheryl makes a self-revelation, and Sandra recognises and affirms Cheryl’s expression of self. This interaction is mundane in the sense that shortbread cookies are unimportant for collective life, and baking efficacy is probably a relatively small part of Cheryl’s global self-evaluation. But these kinds of communicative sequences are important because, by making and responding to small requests for connection and recognition, speakers accomplish personality functions that are essential for developing a healthy sense of self, and accomplish reciprocity functions related to developing mutual respect and liking. Healthy (non-debased, non-narcissistic) personalities and strong interpersonal ties will help Cheryl and Sandra withstand the strain of disagreement if their conversation should turn to matters of collective 67  concern, or become deliberation. This kind of mundane talk – and the democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocal attitudes, and personality traits it supports – is essential for self-development. Mundane talk and the democratic functions it achieves also play an important role in preparing speakers for self- and collective-rule, by preparing them for the potential strain of conflict that can arise when conversing about matters of collective concern or when deliberating. Imagine now that, after reading about the recent police shooting of an unarmed black man, Cheryl – a black woman – mentions to Sandra – a white woman – that she thinks police officers should wear body cameras. Sandra – who is also a police officer – takes personal offense and immediately disagrees, telling Cheryl that it is hurtful to automatically assume people like her need to be monitored with body cameras. Thankfully, Cheryl and Sandra are not approaching this disagreement as two, irreconcilable solitudes – a white police officer and a person of colour – but also, as two people who trust one another, and who rely on one another for friendship and connection.  Sandra’s kneejerk response might be to reject Cheryl’s claim, but Sandra respects her friend and will ultimately be willing to listen to why Cheryl thinks police officers need body cameras; and Cheryl respects and cares for Sandra enough to want to understand her friend’s personal offense. The resulting discourse might test their friendship, but their mutual respect and care for one another will help prevent deliberation from breaking down into a fight. And although discourse may be difficult, the deliberative process will help Cheryl and Sandra learn about different perspectives, and sharpen or possibly change their minds. Cheryl and Sandra’s friendship is what social psychologists interested in intergroup relations refer to as a “cross-cutting” social tie, or “intergroup contact” (e.g., Allport 1954; 68  Brewer and Gaertner 2001; R. Brown and Hewstone 2005; Christ et al. 2014; Gaertner, Dovidio, and Bachman 1996; Pettigrew 1979, 1998). A sociologist would describe their tie – or describe the common church attendance or church bake sale that gave rise to the friendship in the first place – as “bridging social capital” (e.g., Hooghe and Stolle 2003; Putnam 1995a; Stolle 2003; Stolle and Rochon 1998; M. E. Warren 2001). The social scientist’s fascination with these kinds of relationships stems from the fact that Cheryl and Sandra’s communicative interactions at church events achieve functions that generalise to interactions with other people, including strangers (Pettigrew and Troop 2011; Pettigrew 1997).  If Sandra had never met Cheryl, and had only ever interacted with other white people – if Sandra had only ever made and responded to small requests for connection and recognition with other white people – Sandra might not respond very well when a black stranger challenges her sense of self with a racially-charged issue such as police brutality (either through face-to-face communication, or a mediated message in a newspaper, novel, or televised interview). If Sandra only had social ties with other white people, Sandra and the black stranger’s communicative disagreement might result in conflict (such as a shouting match, or Sandra’s unthinking rejection of a claim she receives through the media or popular culture), and so never make it to the level of deliberation.  But because Sandra has developed mutual respect and trust with black friends, her sense of who deserves mutual respect, empathy, and trust is broadened to include (at least) both white and black speakers (Pettigrew and Troop 2011; Pettigrew 1997). And as such, if a black stranger challenges Sandra’s implicit understandings or beliefs related to a racially-charged issue that is deeply personal for Officer Sandra, Sandra should be more likely to extend the speaker the courtesy of epoché – to deliberately suspend her naïve adherence to the world at least 69  momentarily – and to listen and consider the speaker’s justifications. The non-hierarchical cross-cutting interpersonal ties, healthy self-identities, and reciprocal attitudes that Cheryl and Sandra foster through everyday chitchat help them withstand the strain of disagreement if their conversation turns to matters of collective concern, and helps ensure their communicative disagreement becomes deliberation rather than a shouting match. And furthermore, the protective force that social connection, and reciprocal facilitative attitudes such as empathy and trust developed through chitchat provides against the strain of disagreement is generalised to conversations and disagreements with others, even strangers. Political scientists and democratic theorists tend to focus on how deliberation can clarify perspectives and contribute to perceptions of legitimacy for deliberative outcomes. By contrast, social psychologists interested in how intergroup contact can reduce prejudice, and sociologists concerned with how crosscutting associations (and interactions) contribute to bridging social capital, are interested in everyday interactions and conversations – the bulk of which is chitchat on mundane topics – rather than those rarer instances when people talk about matters of collective concern, or deliberate. My dissertation pulls together the concerns and findings in political science and political theory, as well as in social psychology and sociology to offer a broader, integrated understanding of how communication – everyday mundane chitchat, everyday talk about matters of collective concern, and deliberation – contribute to collective opinion and agenda formation.      70  3.2 Using Talk to Achieve the Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation Functions  As I explained, talking is less effective for achieving the democratic empowered inclusion and decision-making functions. However, talk is indispensable for achieving collective opinion and agenda formation. As I discussed in Chapter 2, to assess a political systems’ democratic problem-solving capacities related to the collective opinion and agenda formation function, we should ask: What does talk (or other generic tools) need to accomplish to effectively link individual preferences to collective agendas? I identify five distinguishable components of collective opinion and agenda formation: democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation aims. In this section, I show that everyday talk is best for achieving democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocity, and personality aims, while deliberation is best for achieving the epistemic and legitimation functions of democracy.  3.2.1 Democracy-Supporting Social Integration Functions   The first step to effectively linking individual preferences to collective agendas is creating opportunities to communicatively link individual preferences to a larger collectivity. In other words, people must be linked to a broader collective of people to communicatively form agendas with others. Social ties are required to create opportunities for communicatively linking individual preferences to collective agendas. In other words, collective opinion and agenda formation always requires satisfying a democratic social integration function. 71  Talking promotes social integration because talking is the primary tool by which people create and maintain relationships.3 People typically play multiple roles in society and belong to multiple networks, including constellations of friends, family, colleagues, neighbourhoods, and associations or other social activities. Democracy-supporting social integration refers specifically to forming non-hierarchical relationships with others both within and across salient social group boundaries. Conditions of structural equality between salient social groups creates opportunities and motivates people to develop non-hierarchical social ties with others, particularly across social group boundaries (Harell and Stolle 2010, 2015; Putnam 2000). Non-hierarchical, crosscutting social ties function democratically because they create opportunities for communication and motivate people to find common ground, which is essential for self-development (expressing one’s self, and one’s thoughts or preferences to others), and participating in collective self-rule under conditions that provide relatively equal opportunities to influence collective judgements and decisions.  Everyday talk, and particularly mundane talk, is best for developing social ties in the first place. Recall that mundane talk is often aimed at nothing other than talk itself, at reciprocally affirming bids for connection. The act of reciprocally affirming bids for connections fosters social ties, precisely because it tends to be affirming, and, unlike deliberation, rarely involves conflict. Once democratic social integration – non-hierarchical social ties to a diverse range of communication partners – has been achieved through everyday talk, democratic social integration helps people withstand the strain of diversity and disagreement. For example, a                                                  3 It is no accident that people who cannot talk or have difficulty talking (either because of physical or cognitive disabilities prevent them from speaking or hearing, or because they are facing language barriers) have trouble developing new social ties and are at greater risk for social isolation (Nawyn et al. 2012; Weinstein and Ventry 1982). 72  homophobic person and their homosexual cousin may find themselves in disagreement, but because they are “stuck together” by their familial tie they may be more likely to keep trying to make themselves understood and to understand the other, and to treat one another as moral equals in conversation, even conversations marred by disagreement.  Perhaps just as importantly, because social ties create new opportunities (or iterated opportunities) for talking and motivate agents to resolve conflict and find common ground, non-hierarchical relationships that cross intergroup boundaries catalyse talking’s other functions. For instance, because cross-cutting social ties create diverse communication networks, these diverse, non-hierarchical social relations can catalyse talking’s democratic learning function, by creating opportunities for speakers and listeners to learn about different views and opinions. Because cross-cutting social ties create diverse communication networks, they can catalyse talking’s reciprocity functions related to incurring mutual respect for a range of diverse discussants. Consider the example of the Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly on municipal planning, which took place in Vancouver, British Columbia in 2015. The Grandview-Woodland neighbourhood is a mostly bureaucratic designation, comprised of several smaller subareas that residents normally think of as their neighbourhoods. Early assembly conversations revealed that most assembly members’ pre-existing social activities and neighbourhood ties were localised within the smaller sub-areas where they resided, rather than in the broader Grandview-Woodland neighbourhood. Participating on the Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly helped integrate assembly members into a somewhat artificial community by creating non-hierarchical social ties with a diverse range of other Grandview-Woodland residents.  Assembly organisers started the processes by focusing on talking about “easier” topics, such as broad, common values marked by overwhelming consensus (common values such as 73  “community,” “health,” and so on), before deliberating through more contentious issues, such as neighbourhood density. During this initial phase, as well as during social events (during lunch breaks, or at beers after the assembly meetings) assembly members could get to know one another, and develop social ties by chatting about common experiences, their families, their jobs, and so on. Through these largely unproblematized conversations about matters of common concern (e.g., their common values) and through mundane chitchat (often about personal affinities), assembly members fostered social ties to one another, and thus to people from different neighbourhood subareas who approached the assembly with different local experiences and concerns. These social ties helped protect conversations when topics turn to more contentious issues, and helped motivate speakers to work through disagreements by deliberating, rather than by fighting.  3.2.2 Reciprocity Functions  The second component feature of the agenda and collective agenda formation function I identify is the democracy-supporting reciprocity function. Mansbridge and colleagues (2012, 11) define democracy’s “ethical” function as promoting “mutual respect among citizens.” Mutual respect refers to understanding and recognising another agent’s moral status “as a self-authoring source of reasons and claims.” The moral basis for mutual respect in democracy is the idea that citizens “should be treated not merely as objects of legislation… but as autonomous agents who take part in the governance of their society” (Gutmann and Thompson 2004 quoted in Mansbridge et al. 2012, p. 11). Or to put it more broadly, people should be treated as ends in and of themselves, and not merely as means to some other end (Kant 2008).   74  Building on the idea that the moral basis for mutual respect in democratic social life is that mutual respect motivates people to treat others as ends, I define this “ethical function” more broadly in terms of a reciprocity function. The reciprocity function refers to when talking contributes to a range of reciprocal values and attitudes that function to encourage people to treat others as ends, and to allow people to assume others will treat them as ends in return. These attitudes – or what Harell and Stolle (2010, 2015) alternatively refer to as “facilitative attitudes” – include encouraging mutual respect, promoting positive interpersonal and intergroup affect (or at least tolerance), developing interpersonal and generalised trust, and encouraging empathy.  Collective opinion and agenda formation always entails realising reciprocity aims because people need to be willing or even motivated to link their preferences with others to form collective agendas, which means that they must be willing and motivated to listen to others, and afford others the respect of taking their preferences into account. Furthermore, they must be willing and motivated to express themselves to others. Because self-disclosure entails vulnerability, agents must have faith that others will respect them enough to take their preferences into account. In other words, the facilitative attitudes (including mutual respect, trust, mutual liking or at least tolerance, and empathy) that lubricate social interaction and communication by promoting reciprocity are required for people to communicatively form individual wills into collective wills. As I explained, mutual respect refers to reciprocally recognising and respecting others as self-authoring agents. In practice, this means supporting the basic rights of others to participate in self-development and self- and collective-rule, including the rights of others to participate in 75  conversations and decisions that affect them.4 Positive affect refers to actual liking (warm feelings) toward other individuals or social groups, whereas tolerance refers to a willingness to accept others even in the absence of positive feelings toward them. Generally, positive affect is a strong motivator for treating others as ends – people often treat their loved ones with more kindness than they would show for themselves. And even though basic tolerance might not motivate people to treat others better than they would treat themselves, tolerance should at least safeguard against a willingness to use others as means.    Interpersonal trust refers to having confidence in other people (for instance, confidence in their honesty or decency), whereas generalised trust refers to when this confidence extends beyond face-to-face interactions – beyond friends, family, and acquaintances – and is extended to strangers (Stolle 2002). It may not be immediately obvious why trust is considered a reciprocal function; after all, social scientists often value trust because it reduces transaction costs, including the effort associated with having to monitor and guard against others’ opportunistic behaviour (Stolle 2002; M. E. Warren 1999). But trust reflects people’s faith that others will not treat them as means – that is, interpersonal and generalised trust reflect people’s faith that others will not use or take advantage of them – and this faith in others increases peoples’ willingness to take risks for productive social exchange and collective endeavours, including solving collective problems and disagreements.   By empathy I mean participating in emotional perspective-taking, which refers to emotional engagement combined with perspective-taking (understanding the goals, intentions,                                                  4 Harell and Stolle (2015) refer to this facilitative value as “democratic equality,” but to avoid confusion I do not adopt this term. 76  and experiences of others) (F. B. M. De Waal 2008; Beauvais and Yaylaci 2017a). Empathy is not synonymous with positive affect – empathy involves both an affective and cognitive component, and expands and motivates the human capacity to intuit and understand the feelings, motivations, intentions, and experiences of others. Empathy is “essential for the regulation of social interactions, coordinated activity, and cooperation toward shared goals” (De Waal, 2008, p. 282). Because empathy enables and motivates people to understand and recognise others as intentional agents like themselves, empathy motivates people to reciprocally treat one another as ends.  These reciprocity functions are of course interrelated – for example, empathy can deepen feelings of mutual concern among fellow citizens (Morrell 2007, 2010), reduce out-group prejudice (M. H. Davis 1994; Finlay and Stephan 2000; Galinsky and Moskowitz 2000), and promote tolerance for opposing views (Mutz 2002a). But what should be obvious by now is that mutual respect, positive feelings, tolerance, trust, and empathy all involve norms of reciprocity. When people respect and have warm feelings for others, they generally assume the objects of their respect and affection do (or would) return the sentiment. Even in the absence of positive feelings, people tolerate others – even those they do not particularly like – in part because they expect to be tolerated in return. Similarly, when people extend their trust to others, they generally expect to be trusted in return.  Even empathy is evolutionarily linked to reciprocity: Many evolutionary theories use the concept of “reciprocal altruism” – which refers to the expectation that altruistic acts will be reciprocated – to explain empathy’s evolutionary fitness and origins (Axelrod 1984; Hamilton 1964; Trivers 1971). The Golden Rule’s edict to “treat others as you would like to be treated,” 77  which is reflected in at least seven of the world’s major religions (Browne 1961),5 is not simply a moral prescription. Rather, the Golden Rule is a description of the attitudes that motivate people to treat others as ends, and that allow people to assume that others are motivated to treat them as ends in return.  Talking accomplishes these interrelated democratic reciprocity functions, in part because talking always implies a presupposition of reciprocity, and participating in reciprocal interactions iteratively deepens norms of reciprocity. Talking implies norms of reciprocity in the sense that people make utterances with the aim of being understood – they elaborate enough to be understood, tell the truth, make relevant utterances, and speak clearly and not obscurely – and expect that others do the same in return (Grice 1975; see also Bourdieu 2000, 122). Of course, this presupposition of reciprocity is constantly transgressed in real conversations: people over-explain or say too little, withhold information or lie, make irrelevant statements to change the topic, use non-literal language (metaphor, simile, meiosis, or hyperbole), and so on.6 But the                                                  5 In alphabetical order, by religion: ▪ Brahmanism: “This is the sum of duty: Do naught unto others which would cause you pain if done to you” (Mahabharata 5:1517). ▪ Buddhism: “Hurt not others in ways that you yourself would find hurtful” (Udanavarga 5:18). ▪ Christianity: “All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the Law and the Prophets” (Matthew 7:12). ▪ Confucianism: “Is there one maxim which ought to be acted upon throughout one’s whole life? Surely it is the maxim of loving kindness: Do not unto others what you would not have them do onto you” (Analects 15:23). ▪ Islam: “No one of you is a believer until he desires for his brother that which he desires for himself” (Sunan) ▪ Judaism: “What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow man. That is the entire Law; the rest is commentary” (Talmud, Shabbat 3 I a). ▪ Toaism: “Regard your neighbour’s gain as your own gain, and your neighbour’s loss as your own loss” (T’ai-Shang Kan-Ying P’ien).  6 Grice (1975, 75) refers to this as the “Cooperative Principle” (CP), which is summed up as: “Make your conversational contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged.” The CP has four “maxims” (not laws, because these maxims are constantly flouted or violated): quantity (say only what you need to make yourself understood), quality (tell the truth), relevance (say what is appropriate to the conversation or situation), manner (be clear and not obscure).  78  presupposition is always implied in the sense that the norm of reciprocity (that we speak and listen with the aim of achieving mutual comprehension) can be invoked at any time: a conversation partner can ask, “What do you mean?” In these instances, the norm of reciprocity must be respected – the speaker must clarify their meaning – for communication to work.7 In the right context (e.g., egalitarian contexts), social interaction and communication are the most important mechanisms for developing reciprocal norms of trust (Stolle 2003; e.g., Putnam 1993, 1995b). Talking also contributes to mutual respect (J. Mansbridge et al. 2012), and, under the right conditions, social interaction and communication promote tolerance and even positive affect for outgroups (Allport 1954; R. Brown and Hewstone 2005; Pettigrew 1998). Despite the fact that empathy is an innate trait that is present at birth (F. B. De Waal 2008; Singer 2006a), empathy it is not a static predisposition but can be learned and developed through communication (Beauvais and Yaylaci 2017a; Morrell 2007; Stepien and Baernstein 2006). As Morrell (2007, 381) argues, “increasing citizens’ empathetic predispositions should be an important part of democratic education.”  Democratic reciprocity outcomes help prepare people for participating in self- and collective-rule. Developing a solid baseline of mutual liking or at least strongly internalising the values of mutual respect and tolerance, engraining trust, and developing healthy levels of empathy through everyday talk is required so that these facilitative attitudes can help speakers reach individual and collective judgements and decisions. And, as my earlier example of Sandra                                                  7 When I say the norm “must” be respected, I mean for communication to be successful (communication partners understand one another). Obviously, a speaker can still fail to make themselves understood (they remain obtuse, or simply have not mastered the language they are speaking and cannot offer a clarification), or they repeat a lie. But in these situations, communication tends to (eventually) fall apart. Even in the case of an ongoing lie, repeated social interaction and communication will only last until the untruth is discovered, in which case the repeated violation of the maxim of truthfulness (an violation of the norm of reciprocity) will damage or even end the relationship. 79  and Cheryl illustrates, facilitative values can help speakers withstand the strain of disagreement endemic to deliberation.   3.2.3 Democracy-Supporting Personality Functions  The third component feature of the agenda and collective agenda formation function I identify is the development of democracy-supporting personalities. Collective opinion and agenda formation always entails achieving a democratic personality function because, just as people must have confidence in others before they can engage in self-disclosure and communicatively express their preferences to form collective agendas, people must have a healthy degree of confidence in themselves. A healthy, non-debased degree of self-confidence and self-efficacy is required so speakers can weather the strain of vulnerability to express themselves and their preferences to others. A healthy, non-narcissistic (unrealistically exaggerated) degree of self-confidence and self-efficacy is also helpful, since narcissists may be unwilling to reconsider or modify their own preferences to form them into collective agendas.   As Erving Goffman (1967, 45) paradoxically noted, “human nature is not a very human thing.” People’s sense of self is developed through the interplay of interactions with others (and imagined others) in social settings (Bourdieu 2000; Giddens 1984; Goffman 1967, 2009, Habermas 1984, 1998; Mead 1934; M. E. Warren 1993). The idea that that we should expect egalitarian settings to produce individual capacities necessary to democracy has a long history in democratic theory (M. E. Warren 1993). Talking with others achieves a democratic personality function when it contributes to personalities that enhances people’s capacity to participate in 80  individual and collective self-rule under conditions that provide relatively equal opportunities to influence collective judgements and decisions.  I limit the scope of my analysis of democratic personality dispositions to include self-efficacy and self-esteem.8 Self-efficacy refers to a person’s belief in their ability to succeed in activities, accomplish tasks, and accomplish goals. The interrelated notion of self-esteem refers to an individual’s global evaluations of self-worth or value. Efficacy relates more to questions of capacity, or “can” (“can I ski down black diamond slopes?”), whereas esteem relates more to “feeling” (“do I like myself?”).9     3.2.4 Learning Functions  The fourth component feature of the agenda and collective agenda formation function I identify is the democratic learning function. The democratic learning (or “epistemic”) function is to “produce preferences, opinions, and decisions that are appropriately informed by facts and logic and are the outcome of substantive and meaningful reasons” (J. Mansbridge et al. 2012, 11). Collective opinion and agenda formation should entail satisfying a democratic learning function because, once people have the opportunity and basic willingness to talk to one another,                                                  8 Of course, there are many other features of personal personality beside self- and collective- efficacy and esteem produced by deliberative “self-transformation,” including norms of reciprocity and capacity for critical reflection. However, I wish to maintain a conceptual distinction between talking’s democratic reciprocity, learning, and “personality” functions. The personality functions listed here are essentially personality traits that are not clearly related to norms of reciprocity (which, as I have explained, involve the reciprocity aim of treating others as ends), and which are not clearly related to learning or other learning aims. In other words, self- and collective efficacy and esteem are the personality traits that are “leftover” once I sort the reciprocity and epistemic (learning) traits into their respective categories. 9 Note that although the terms self-esteem and self-confidence are often used interchangeably, “confidence” typically indicates trait specific attributes (such as “confidence playing baseball,” or “confidence in knowledge”), rather than global self-evaluations.  81  and once people have the basic capacity to express themselves to others and be open to the expressions of others, they should be able to learn by engaging in communicative processes with one another. Through communicative processes – by developing preferences and opinions (participating in self-rule) and communicatively linking their preferences with others to form collective agendas (participating in collective rule) – people discover and share new information and considerations, and sharpen (and possibly change and improve) one another’s personal preferences.  The relationship between democracy and epistemic quality is neatly summed up by Delli Carpini and Keeter (1997, 8), who state that “political information is to democratic politics what money is to economics: it is the currency of citizenship.” Unfortunately, it seems that citizenship has a liquidity problem: among voters, ignorance of basic political information is endemic (Bartels 2005; Delli Carpini and Keeter 1997), misinformation abounds (Kuklinski et al. 2000), and voters are often fail to link their preferences to policy choices (Bartels 2005).  Discourse achieves its learning function when it counterbalances the informational shortcomings of electoral politics. For instance, when deliberative polls increase knowledge and help participants link preferences to policy-choices (Fishkin 1997; Luskin, Fishkin, and Jowell 2002), and, with respect to elite and interpersonal discourses, when exposure to conflicting perspectives successfully guards against framing (and, by extension, potentially guards against manipulation and misinformation) (Chong and Druckman 2007; Druckman and Nelson 2003). Consider again my example of the Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly on municipal planning: when assembly members talked amongst one other, and talked with experts, advocates and members of the public, they learned about available decisions and their consequences, refined their opinions with others, and reached more informed individual and 82  collective decisions.  The learning function is “democratic” in the sense that developing preferences and opinions that are informed by facts, logic, and meaningful reasons better prepares people for participating in individual and collective self-rule.  There is overwhelming evidence to suggest that talking – and especially deliberation – helps members of the public develop policy preferences that are “informed, enlightened, and authentic” (Page 1996, 1). Discourse is said to help members of the public improve their understanding of their own preferences, and strengthen their ability to justify their positions with arguments (Chambers 1996; Gutmann and Thompson 1996). When discourse precedes decision-making, the resulting decisions should be more informed by relevant perspectives and evidence (Chambers 1996; Goodin 2008).  Disagreements or misunderstandings clarified by debate or other contestatory discussion formats (such as dialectical inquiry or devil’s advocacy) produce more critical evaluation of underlying assumptions and can produce better quality collective decisions (Beauvais and Bächtiger 2016; David M. Schweiger, William R. Sandberg, and Ragan 1986). Through debate and deliberation, speakers challenge one others’ arguments and positions, which can unravel inconsistencies, unearth new and unconsidered facts, and force participants to provide more, and more robust, reasons for their positions, and ultimately advance learning aims (Manin 2005). Deliberation is the most effective form of talk for achieving learning functions. Because mundane talk is less likely to involve disagreement, and more likely to involve consensual communication formats, mundane talk is less effective for achieving these democratic learning functions.    83  3.2.5 Legitimation Functions  The fifth component feature of the agenda and collective agenda formation function I identify is legitimation. What makes norms – laws, rules, principles, and standards – acceptable? Following the revisionist deliberative democratic definition of democratic legitimacy (Benhabib 1992; Chambers 1996; McCarthy 1992), I define democratically legitimate norms as those reached through processes that could meet with the approval of all affected. Collective opinion and agenda formation should entail achieving a legitimation function because “discursively generated agreements” (and understandings) should underwrite commitment to communicatively constituted collective agendas (Warren, 2017, p. 46). People who have the opportunity, motivation, and capacity to participate in communicative processes can then learn from one another and form their individual preferences into collective wills. And when people are empowered to participate in communicative processes, and refine their own preferences with others, they are more likely to develop confidence or faith in the resulting collective agendas. Different tools may be used in conjunction with talking to realise democratically legitimate norms. For instance, a law passed by parliament – which typically involves using the tools of representation, talking, and majority vote – would be perceived as legitimate when the different processes (related to selecting representatives, communication processes, and finally, the decisive vote) meet with the approval of those who are affected by the resulting laws. If any one of these tools – and thus the process generating the law – lacks general approval, the democratic legitimacy of the law is undermined. For instance, consider how Canadian voters are represented by non-elected senators in the Canadian parliament’s upper house. If the senators exercised their constitutional powers to significantly change legislation that successfully passed 84  the elected lower house, the democratic legitimacy of the resulting law would likely be questioned by Canadians dissatisfied by the kind of non-electoral representation embodied by their senate. Communication plays an important role in realising the goal of democratic legitimacy largely because talking is the vehicle by which reasons or justifications can be articulated, challenged, and refined.  Legitimation straddles both the collective agenda formation function and the collective decision-making function, and talking under relatively equal conditions also helps ensure other democratic tools that are better suited for achieving democratic decision-making function legitimately. Consider representing and voting, which are important democratic decision-making tool in mass democracies. But the features of representing and voting – how representatives are selected (whether appointed or elected), or how votes are counted – should be justified through communicative processes, so that representing and voting can help achieve the goal of democratic legitimacy. For instance, Canadian senators must be able to communicatively justify why their appointment to the senate empowers them to make democratically legitimate decisions on behalf of constituent citizens. If senators are unable to communicatively convince Canadians that they can legitimately author laws on their behalf, the legitimacy of the legislation they author suffers.    3.3 Inequality Prevents Talk from Achieving Collective Opinion and Agenda Formation  As I discussed in Chapter 2, empowered inclusion requires equality broadly understood: not only political equality, but also a degree of material, and interactional (including discursive) equality. Different forms of inequality – asymmetries in political rights, asymmetries of wealth, 85  or asymmetries of participation or influence in social and communicative practices between social group members – generate power asymmetries between social group members that often entail politically meaningful exclusions. Most importantly for my discussion here, inequality and exclusion can prevent each of the collective opinion and agenda formation function components from functioning democratically. Equality and the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective outcomes is requisite for talking to achieve democracy-supporting social integration. Under conditions of extreme inequality (such as in totalitarian political systems), communication may not occur at all or may fail to foster social formation, contributing to a socially exclusive society suffering from anomie, or lack of social ties (Harell and Stolle 2010, 27). More often, when a society is structured by group-based asymmetries in political rights, asymmetries of wealth, or asymmetries of communicative participation or influence between social groups exist, talking may reinforce “isolated pockets of networks that do not interconnect,” contributing to a socially exclusive society suffering from structural fragmentation (Harell and Stolle 2010, 27). In other words, under conditions of structural inequality talking may contribute to a kind of social integration, but it is less likely to achieve the democracy-supporting social integration function of promoting non-hierarchical ties both within and across intergroup boundaries.  Equality and the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective outcomes is requisite for talking to achieve democracy-supporting reciprocal attitudes: facilitative values that orient people to treat others (including members of other social groups) as ends, and that give people confidence that others (including members of other social groups) will reciprocate. As I mentioned, asymmetrical political rights, economic-gaps, or resource-gaps between social group members generate asymmetries in power relations between social group members that reduce the 86  likelihood that cross-cutting talk happens and all. And when people in heterogeneous societies do not talk to one another, diversity can undermine facilitative attitudes. For instance, in diverse communities where people do not talk to one another, diversity has a negative impact on trust (Stolle, Soroka, and Johnston 2008). And it may be impossible (and inapt) to expect disempowered social group members to feel generalised trust for dominant, empowered group members (Arneil 2006; see also Harell and Stolle 2010). Under conditions of inequality, when talking does occur between social group members it is less likely to achieve the reciprocity aims of promoting facilitative attitudes. Under conditions of inequality, talking is more likely to contribute to negative outgroup feelings (such as explicit dislike, or implicit prejudice) (Christ et al. 2014; Marschall and Stolle 2004; Stolle and Harell 2013; Stolle and Rochon 1998).  Under conditions of equality, talking contributes to democracy-supporting personalities in the sense that the social contexts should contribute to healthy evaluations of self-worth and self-efficacy, and should distribute esteem in an egalitarian manner. To understand what I mean by this, consider how conditions of significant structural inequality generate asymmetries in opportunities and influence in ways that distort a person’s or group’s judgements of efficacy or esteem. With respect to efficacy, consider the example of when societies are marred by significant, institutionalised gender inequalities that generate asymmetries in men’s and women’s participation and influence in economic and political life. In such societies, people may systematically overestimate men’s capacities, and underestimate women’s capacities (as individuals, as well as collectively) (Kiefer and Sekaquaptewa 2007a, 2007b; Rudman, Greenwald, and McGhee 2001).  With respect to esteem, consider the example of large economic inequalities. At the individual level, the child of a powerful billionaire who has experienced a lifetime of influence 87  and wealth may develop an unhealthily high sense of self-worth (e.g., a narcissistic personality). Conversely, the child of a pauper who has experienced a lifetime of disempowerment and poverty irrespective of their hard work and accomplishments may develop an unhealthily low sense of worth (e.g., chronically low self-esteem) (Twenge and Campbell 2002).  These problems should be less prevalent under conditions of structural equality, since equality should enable talking to contribute self- and collective identities that reflect a healthy evaluation of a person’s or group’s abilities, and should distribute esteem symmetrically between social group members. Personalities are largely developed through primary socialisation in the family, although they can change in adulthood.  Consider again the example of the Grandview-Woodland Citizens’ Assembly, which brought neighbourhood residents together and, through egalitarian conditions, empowered them to discursively form judgments and make collective decisions, and to communicate their judgments and decisions directly to local decision-makers. This process should boost assembly members’ sense of collective (assembly) efficacy, and perhaps even each members’ self-efficacy related to speaking and decision-making. Empirical research suggests that deliberation can increase self-efficacy (Knobloch and Gastil 2015). At the very least, deliberation and collective decision-making increases “situationally specific” internal efficacy, which refers to “measures of efficacy specific to the deliberative process” (Morrell 2005, 60). Equality and the empowered inclusion of those affected by collective outcomes is also requisite for talking to achieve democratic epistemic outcomes. Again, when social systems’ structures engender group-based asymmetries in political rights, asymmetries of wealth, or asymmetries of communicative participation or influence among social groups, societies are more likely to be characterised by structural fragmentation, by isolated pockets of networks that 88  do not interconnect, and members of different social groups will be less likely to communicate at all. When members of a society do not talk to one another, they cannot learn about one another’s preferences, or hear challenges to their own presuppositions. Structural fragmentation contributes to epistemic shortcomings in public opinion and collective wills. Furthermore, such conditions could contribute to “echo chamber effects,” and group polarisation (Cacciatore, Scheufele, and Iyengar 2016; Iyengar and Hahn 2009; H. T. Williams et al. 2015).  Finally, equality is crucial for ensuring that talking contributes to collective and individual judgements and decisions that are perceived as legitimate, because when people are empowered by egalitarian conditions to participate in collective self-rule under conditions that provide relatively equal chances to influence collective judgements and decisions, they are more likely to perceive the outcomes that they helped author (for instance, resulting judgements, norms, and laws) as legitimate. This is particularly true when the learning and reciprocity functions are satisfied, and people can feel confident that their judgements are based on facts and an awareness of diverse (including opposing) views, are attentive to others, and that norms, laws, and decisions are based on good reasons and an awareness of how they affect others. Returning to my example of the Grandview-Woodland planning process, the assembly members had greater confidence in the assembly’s proposals because they largely reflected the opinions assembly members developed while talking things through with community members, stakeholders, and experts, and after considering how proposals would impact other community members (Beauvais and Warren 2017). Inequality presents a problem for democracy because it prevents generic tools from achieving normatively essential democratic functions. As my discussion shows, inequality prevents talking from achieving a range of collective opinion and agenda formation functions, 89  including the democratic social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation functions. But this is not the only problem of inequality for talk and democracy. As I explain in Chapter 6, “Inequality and Oppression,” under conditions of inequality, talk can contribute to harms of oppression. In Chapter 6, I also explain how inequality also blocks disagreements and misunderstandings from being resolved through rational discourse (deliberation).   3.4 Conclusion  In Chapter 2, I introduced the idea that democracy begins with empowered inclusion, and that the other functions – including collective opinion and agenda formation – cannot function democratically if those affected by the outcomes of collective agenda formation and decision-making are excluded from discursively linking private preferences into collective agendas (and ultimately, collective decisions).  My discussion in this chapter extends the problem-based, systems’ approach to democratic theory in two main ways. First, I consider talking more generally, rather than focusing on deliberation specifically. “Talking” encompasses both everyday talk (both everyday talk about matters of collective concern, and mundane chitchat) and deliberation. Second, I build-out the description of the collective opinion and agenda formation function, identifying five components necessary for creating opportunities, motivations, and capacities for, as well as and satisfaction with collective opinion and agenda formation: democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocity, learning, personality, and legitimation.  Of course, these are not hard distinctions, and some of the component functions I identify as part of the collective opinion and agenda formation function may also overlap with other 90  broader democratic functions (for instance, legitimation is a component part of both collective agenda formation and collective decision-making). Furthermore, this list is not meant to be exhaustive – there may be additional normatively necessary components comprising collective opinion and agenda formation not listed here. But my discussion in this chapter helps answer the question of what talk needs to accomplish to effectively link individual preferences to collective agendas.  My discussion also illustrates how substantive equalities – equal political rights, material equality, and discursive equality – empower inclusions, and help ensure that communicative processes engender non-hierarchical social ties that crosscut salient social group boundaries, encourage people to reciprocally treat one another as ends, engender healthy, non-debased personalities, produce more informed and enlightened opinions, and develop confidence in the legitimacy of communicative outcomes. With the right opportunities, motivation, and capacities, people can democratically form their individual preferences into collective opinions and agendas. As I explained, everyday talk is better than deliberation for achieving the democratic social integration, reciprocity, and personality functions, while deliberation is best for achieving the democratic learning and legitimation functions.  Inequality prevents talking from achieving a range of collective opinion and agenda formation functions – but this is not the only problem of inequality for talk and democracy. As I will discuss in Chapter 6, under conditions of inequality, talk can contribute to harms of oppression, and inequality also blocks problematized communication from being solved through discourse (contributing to domination). But before I turn my attention to the relationship between inequality and oppression and domination, I must first address an essential question that I have so far neglected: who is this agent, this self, with claims to empowerment? In the next chapter I 91  describe the agent with claims to empowerment as a “practical comprehension” or “bodily knowledge” of the material and social world, a system of dispositions inscribed by their social and material conditions of existence (Bourdieu 2000, 135). And in Chapter 5, I discuss how social spaces create contexts or underlying frameworks that give meaning to agents’ speech and action, so that agents can reveal who they are through speaking and doing. My discussion in these two chapters is essential for understanding how structural political and material inequalities become inscribed in agents’ cognitive and motivational structures to engender interactional inequalities – in particularly, asymmetries of communicative participation and influence – which contribute to harms of oppression and domination.  92  Chapter 4: Practical Knowledge  My dissertation begins with the democratic ideal that people should be empowered to participate in self-development and self- and collective-rule, and considers the problem of when structural inequalities engender asymmetrical empowerments that entail exclusions from practices that achieve these aims. Yet so far I have glossed over the “question of the subject” plaguing all disciplines taking the subject as its object (Bourdieu 2000, 128). Who is this self with claims to empowerment?  In this chapter I explain the self as a “practical comprehension” of the material and social world (2000, 135). The body is conditioned by material social experiences, to produce a “self” who internalises and so practically understands the world into which they have been inserted. Agents’ capacity for mutual understanding – for participating in intersubjectivity (the capacity and eagerness to share experiences and emotional states with others), and more cognitively-oriented mind reading skills (attributing the mental states of others) – allows them to inscribe mutual understandings into language, institutions, and habitus’ cognitive and motivational structures, and so to internalise a practical comprehension of the material and social world.  Understanding how the world conditions bodies is central for the aim of empowering people to participate in and influence communicative processes of collective opinion and agenda formation. This is because conditions of structural inequality can systematically engender “selves” with weakened capacities to participate in, or influence communicative processes, which prevents talking from achieving democracy-supporting social integration, reciprocity, personality, learning, and legitimation goals. My primary concern in this chapter (and the next), is with humans’ cumulative cultural evolution, which refers to the way agents inscribe socially-93  shared intentions in things (in language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts comprising social systems) and minds (in cognitive and motivational durable dispositions). Particularly, my goal is to understand how agents inscribe structural inequalities in things and minds to engender asymmetrical interactional (and especially discursive) participation and influence.  Although I am primarily interested in cultural evolution, I begin with a discussion of the mind; of brains and neural processes. I begin my discussion of cultural evolution with a discussion of minds, because the human body, “thanks to its senses and its brain, has the capacity to be present to what is outside of itself, in the world” (Bourdieu 2000, 135). Agents’ physiological qualities make them open to the world, to being “impressed and durably modified by it” (Bourdieu 2000, 135). In the first section of this chapter, I explain the most primal, sensorimotor experiences of intersubjectivity. Specifically, when the same or similar neurons fire both an actor engaging in goal-oriented behaviour’s brain and an onlooker’s brain to produce goal-oriented, sensorimotor comprehension, as well as when the same or similar neurons are activated in an actor and an onlooker’s brains to produce emotional contagion. In the second section, I describe how humans are both capable and intrinsically motivated to expand and give permanence to these fleeting sensorimotor experiences of intersubjectivity by inscribing shared intentions into things – language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts – comprising social systems. I then describe how humans also expand and give permanence to intersubjectivity by inscribing shared intentions in bodies, in cognitive and motivational structures. In the fourth section, I describe the two factors that give rise to the experience of a common-sense world, to a shared backdrop of mutual understanding that enables smooth social interaction and everyday talk. These factors are: isomorphism 94  (congruence) between habitus and the social and material world, and homology (similarities) between the cognitive and motivational dispositions of similarly situated people (Bourdieu 1977, 2000). Finally, I describe human agency’s role in changing social systems, even though the common-sense world can act as a conservative counterweight to social change.  4.1 The Sensorimotor Experience of Intersubjectivity  As Bourdieu (2000, 135) explains, the human body, “thanks to its senses and its brain, has the capacity to be present to what is outside of itself, in the world, to be impressed and durably modified by it.” Where does the body’s openness to the world come from? In particularly, where does the body’s attentiveness to others, and tendency to attune itself with sociality come from?  Humans, like many other non-human social mammals (including non-human primates) experience a primal, sensorimotor experience of intersubjectivity, a physiological capacity to share affective or cognitive states with others by recruiting their own neural systems (Di Pellegrino et al. 1992; Gallese et al. 1996; Iacoboni 2009; Rizzolatti and Craighero 2004; Rizzolatti et al. 1988). By “sensorimotor” intersubjectivity I am referring to the experience of intersubjectivity as automatic, neural brain impulses. Mirror neuron systems allow humans (and other social animals, but I limit my analysis to humans) to corporeally represent the actions and intentions of others, by recruiting their own motor systems.  The mirror neuron system in humans’ and other social non-human animals’ prefrontal cortexes allow social animals to embody the states of others and so immediately come to non-conceptual, social understandings. Mirror neurons fire when an animal perceives another 95  performing a goal-oriented action (reaching for something, moving their lips or bodies in an intentional way), and internally simulates the goal- and emotion-oriented behaviours of others (Di Pellegrino et al. 1992; Gallese et al. 1996; Iacoboni 2009; Rizzolatti and Craighero 2004; Rizzolatti et al. 1988).  To understand how this works, imagine two acquaintances, Estella and Pip, having tea. When Estella lifts her cup to her lips, neurons are activated in her brain; when Pip watches Estella lift her cup to her lips, the same (or similar) neurons are activated in his brain. Mirror neurons are the primal mechanism enabling the shared understanding of the perceptual and motor aspects of goal-oriented actions across the divide of self and other (e.g., the goal of sipping tea from a cup). In short, the mirror matching system provides the neurological scaffolding for a basic, sensorimotor experience of intersubjectivity (Gallese, Ferrari, and Umiltà 2002; Gallese 2001, 2003; Iacoboni 2009; Rizzolatti and Craighero 2004).  Motor neurons code the goals of motor acts, rather than merely the movements forming them (Fogassi et al. 2005; Rochat et al. 2010; Umiltà et al. 2008) (Alexander and Crutcher 1990; Crutcher and Alexander 1990; Kakei, Hoffman, and Strick 1999, 2001). Rather than simply coding observed (and performed) actions, these neurons are coding the intention associated with the action. Neurons coding specific acts (such as grasping) show different activations when the act is part of different goal-directed sequences, such as grasping for placing a cup, versus grasping for drinking from a cup (Fogassi et al. 2005). Estella’s neurons fire differentially when she grasps her cup to place it in on a tray, versus when she grasps her cup to drink from it.  This is as true of observing goal-directed sequences performed by another. And Pip’s neurons fire differentially when he observes Estella grasp her cup to place it down, versus observing Estella grasp her cup to drink from it. Context appears to be important in shaping goal-96  coding: picking up a cup stimulates different neurons depending on whether objects are displayed just before the tea is consumed (the “drinking” context) or after tea time (the “cleaning” context) (Iacoboni et al. 2005). The mirror system attunes agents – it brings them into accord with, it adjusts or accustoms them – to social contingency (awareness of social context). In addition to (and perhaps in conjunction with) the mirror neuron system, other neurons simulate automatic, emotional responses that allow humans to corporeally share affective states through emotional contagion. Emotional contagion works by a process whereby observing the emotional states of others triggers the associated somatic and automatic responses in the observer (Gallese, Eagle, and Migone 2007; Gallese 2003; Preston and De Waal 2002; Singer 2006b). Examples of emotional contagion include the welling of tears when people see others crying, or yawning in response to seeing other people (or other animals) yawn. These neural impulses enable a practical experience of intersubjectivity, corporeally bridging the divide between self and other. But these sensorimotor experiences of intersubjectivity are limited in scope. Because these corporeal experiences require physically observing the goal-oriented actions or affective states of others, they require visual – often face-to-face or small-group (and possibly video) – interactions. A limited number of bodies can participate in these practical experiences of intersubjectivity at a given time. Furthermore, these forms of intersubjectivity last only as long as the interaction, and end when agents part ways and can no longer perceive each other. These sensorimotor experiences of intersubjectivity are fleeting, impermanent. Humans expand and give permanence to this fragile intersubjective space, and to participate in a broader, more permanent shared conceptual understandings. Humans seem intrinsically motivated to inscribe shared intersubjective understandings in things (language 97  games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural features of social systems), and in bodies (the cognitive and motivational structures of habitus). There is no consensus on the extent other, non-human social animals participate in sharing intentions, and inscribing shared intentions in things and bodies to participate in language games and shared cultural scripts, or participate in the symbolic achievements language makes possible (such as mind reading, or intuiting others’ thoughts, intentions, and goals). But this question goes beyond the scope of my dissertation. What matters for my purposes is that humans are motivated to expand and give permanence to shared understandings and intentions in language and other social institutions, and in bodies, and do participate in the symbolic achievements – mind reading and emotional perspective-taking – that language makes possible.  4.2 Inscribing Shared Intentions in Things: Language and Institutions  The biological property of being open to the world goes beyond the immediately and temporary sensorimotor impulses that allow agents to corporeally comprehend interaction partners’ emotions and goal-oriented behaviours. It also includes the ability to inscribe shared conceptual space in social systems, through the language games and other institutions. Evolutionary anthropologists describe the socio-cognitive skills that make inscribing shared conceptual space into social systems possible as “shared intentionality” (Burkart, Hrdy, and Van Schaik 2009; Hrdy 2011; Tomasello 2010; Tomasello and Carpenter 2007).10 Shared                                                  10 For an excellent discussion of the evolutionary development of shared intentionality, see Sarah Blaffer Hrdy’s (2011) book, Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding, which convincingly argues that human ancestors’ prosocial tendencies manifested as “cooperative breeding,” which refers to when  98  intentionality refers to the cognitive ability and motivation to “participate with others in collaborative activities with shared goals and intentions” (Tomasello et al. 2005, 675). There are a few distinct socio-cognitive shared intentionality skills that allow agents to inscribe shared intentions and understandings in language, institutions, and other cultural artifacts in social systems, but the most important skills for my discussion are: triadic attention, cooperative communication, and imitative learning. Triadic attention refers simply to interactions that involve the “referential triangle” of (1) self, (2) other (interaction partner), and (3) some external focal point (e.g., an object, a third party, or an underlying referent) that both interaction partners are attending to  (Tomasello 2000). This seemingly basic socio-cognitive skill is an essential stepping stone for inscribing shared understandings into the language games and institutions that help comprise the shared perception of a common-sense world. At the most basic level, triadic attention enables social referencing (using other people as emotional reference points) and gaze following (looking where others are looking, to attend to the same external focal point).  Triadic attention entails going beyond dyadic (person-to-person) interaction, and sets the stage for cooperative communication and imitative learning. “Cooperative communication”11                                                  “alloparents” (or conspecifics besides a birth mother, including fathers, aunts, grandparents, or others) collectively help raise infants and children, giving these pre-human, hyper-social primates a selective advantage.  11 Cooperative communication (and language games) are only “cooperative” in the Gricean sense. Grice’s (1975, 75) “Cooperative Principle” (“Make your conversational contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged”) describes the way that, in order for conversations to function successfully conversation partners must make utterances with the aim of being understood, and assume that their interaction partners are doing the same. The Cooperative Principle (CP) functions even when interlocutors are not cooperating socially, such as during an argument. The CP is not a sociological law, but rather an implicit presupposition of language games that encourages mutual participation in an underlying framework of conceptual space. The CP is “a specific variant of the principle of reciprocity, which, although it is constantly transgressed, can be invoked at any time as” (Bourdieu 2000, 122). Refer to my discussion in Chapter 3.  99  refers to communication that relies on, or references shared conceptual ground (Tomasello and Carpenter 2007). This kind of communication is triadic in the sense that it always involves (1) a speaker, (2) listener(s), and (3) a shared frame of attention (e.g., the context within which communication takes place) that communication partners can mutually reference and understand. Clearly, the capacity for multiple minds to share information about referential intentions is required for developing symbols and language. The ability to share common ground (to have a joint attentional frame) is necessary for both comprehending and designating symbols, and for understanding utterances in conversation. That is, the capacity to participate in triadic (self, interaction partner, referent) interaction is essential for inscribing shared referential intentions in symbols and language games. Symbols and language games expand and give permanence to the corporeal experience of intersubjectivity, by expanding and giving permanence to a space of mutually accessible common ground.  Imitative learning is another shared intentionality skill that helps agents expand and give permanence to shared conceptual space by inscribing it in language, institutions, and other cultural artifacts in social systems. Imitative learning differs from other forms of social learning (learning through others) in the degree to which it is culturally-mediated (Carpenter 2006; Tomasello 2004; Tomasello and Carpenter 2007). Imitative learning involves trying to reproduce others’ intentional activities or behavioural strategy. Imitative learning contrasts with emulation learning, a form of social learning that involves copying another’s behaviour to change the state of the environment, rather than to learn a conspecific’s intentional activity or behavioural strategy (Tomasello 2004).  Researchers have devised experiments to distinguish between imitative learning and emulative learning, to see if children and non-human primates will copy a clearly inefficient 100  goal-oriented behaviour, such as using a rake inefficiently to get an out of reach object (Nagell, Olguin, and Tomasello 1993), or inefficiently illuminating a toy box containing a lightbulb by pressing on the box with the top of their head instead of simply using their hands to illuminate the lightbulb in the box (Meltzoff 1988). The researchers find that non-human primates tend to learn by emulation: if they see a researcher use a rake inefficiently to obtain an object, they copy the researcher’s tool use, but they use the rake efficiently, to more effectively change the state of the environment (and get the out of reach object). Apes do not try and replicated researchers’ intentions by imitating the inefficient method for obtaining the object.  By contrast, human children try and reproduce the researcher’s behavioural strategy, imitating the inefficient behaviour to obtain the out of reach object. This is less effective for changing the state of the environment and getting the out of reach object, but the children’s imitation signifies to the researchers that they are “in tune” with the situation, that they are playing by the rules of the game (Carpenter 2006). As Tomasello (2004, 53) explains, imitative learning is “not a ‘higher’ or ‘more intelligent’ learning strategy than emulation; it is simply a more culturally-mediated strategy.”   Clearly, the capacity to participate in triadic (self, interaction partner, referent) interaction is essential for participating in language games, which entail referencing mutually available conceptual space in ways that are meaningful to all conversations partners. Perhaps less obviously, but just as importantly, triadic interaction motivates imitative learning. Just as the shared knowledge that an utterance signifies an underlying referent gives that utterance meaning, the shared knowledge that an action might signify an underlying referent gives that action a surplus (social) meaning. Agents’ act purposefully not only to change the state of the environment, also to signify an underlying referent or meaning. 101  When children imitate their elders’ actions, they are not simply trying to achieve the identical outcome (i.e., getting an out of reach object, or illuminating a lightbulb in a toy box). Rather, they are trying to discover the underlying conceptual space that makes the action meaningful by participating in the action in the “right” way. They know that they are signifying by doing, even though they might not know what they are signifying. They are learning the rules by playing the game. A child imitates their parents because they perceive their parents’ actions – the way their parents walk, speak, sit, or engage in any other intentional activity – as “constitutive of the social being of the accomplished adult” (Bourdieu 2000, 154). Children do not just want the ability to achieve certain ends, to move physically through space, or make vocalizations. Children also imitatively learn to be an “adult” (or a “woman,” “Canadian,” etc.), who signifies who or what they are by walking, speaking, sitting and doing other acts in a certain way.    Before I turn my attention to the conditioning processes that inscribe intersubjective understandings (e.g., understandings of how a woman should walk, talk, and speak) in bodies, I wish to highlight imitative learning’s normative aspect. Children not only imitatively learn to perform the activity when they see an adult perform the activity for the first time, but they also seem to see that activity in normative terms – how “we” do things. In a study of the normative structure of conventional games, experimenters taught young children how to play a simple game (Rakoczy, Warneken, and Tomasello 2008). After the experimenter and a child had played the game a while, a puppet (controlled by another experimenter) asked to join the game, and played the game “wrong.” Almost all the children protested, and the older children could protest very explicitly.  102  Imitating the actions of social referents (such as parents) is not simply about learning to change the state of the environment, it is about learning and incorporating the rules of the game, and playing the “right” way. Imitative learning helps agents to share meanings with others by teaching them to recognise and participate in social acts in the same way, expanding shared conceptual space across bodies. It gives permanence to a shared background of mutual understanding by ensuring social actions’ can be inscribed in language games and institutions (the “rules of the game”) faithfully imitated by subsequent generations. The ability to participate in language games and other social games in socially recognised settings is essential for human self-development (Young 2011).  4.3 Inscribing Shared Intentions in Minds: Habitus  So far, I have discussed how shared intentions become inscribed into language games and institutions. In this section, I try – as much as possible – to describe in general terms how these features of social systems act back upon bodies to conform bodies to the conditions of their existence. The processes of primary conditioning that inscribe shared intentions in cognitive and motivational dispositions (in “habitus”) is something humans, in general, participate in. Of course, as my discussion shows, it is difficult to discuss primary conditioning in general terms (as something all humans do) without discussing social groups, and the social distinctions that maintain power relations and social hierarchies. Rest assured, in Chapter 5 I discuss social differentiation – in collective social identifications, in fields (comprised of institutions and distributions of resources and power), and in processes that consecrate social categories and 103  distinctions into law – at length. And in Chapter 6, I discuss the consequences of inscribing group-based inequalities in social systems for democratic or oppressive governance. In this section, I define habitus, and discuss (as generally as possible) how shared understandings and intentions inscribed in language and institutions work back upon the body, structuring habitus’ systems of cognitive and motivational dispositions. Habitus are schemes of thought and expression that enable “the intentionless invention of regulated improvisation” (Bourdieu 1977, 16:79). The concept of habitus is essential for understanding people as socialised beings, influenced by material conditions and social relations. As Bourdieu explains, “The ‘I’ that practically comprehends physical space and social space… is not necessarily a ‘subject’ in the sense of philosophies of the mind, but rather a habitus, a system of dispositions.” Habitus is a practical or embodied comprehension of the world – a “corporeal knowledge” – that provides an “immediate understanding of the familiar world”  (Bourdieu 2000, 135). Habitus are the persisting effect of “primary conditioning,” acquired mostly through primary socialisation in the family, but also developed through the interaction between primary socialisation and education or vocational training later in life (Bourdieu 1990, 62, see also 2000, 164). Evolutionary or cultural anthropologists studying humans’ capacity and motivation to share intentions and understandings – to share and understand thoughts and feelings with others, and participate in intersubjective engagement – stress the degree to which participating in shared intentionality skills’ products (language, institutions, and other cultural artifacts in social systems) is cooperative (e.g., Burkart, Hrdy, and Van Schaik 2009; Tomasello 2009b, 2010; Warneken, Chen, and Tomasello 2006).  Language games are “cooperative” in the Gricean sense that speakers must make utterances (or signals) with the aim of being understood: signifiers and referents must be 104  intelligible to listeners.12 If the utterances are unintelligible, listeners should be able to request and receive clarification, or else language games fall apart.13 Similarly, actions signify underlying meanings and agents must act cooperatively – they must figure out and follow the rules of the game – for social actions to be mutually comprehensible.  However, to say participating in language games and other social systems features is cooperative suggests interlocutors already have the same linguistic and cultural knowledge and skills required to reference a mutually understood framework of meaning. But this is never immediately the case: benighted agents (e.g., children) must be brought into (assimilated), or must appropriate linguistic and cultural competences to make use of an underlying framework of meaning. Agents must co-opt, or be co-opted into participating in language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts in social systems; they must co-opt or be co-opted into playing by the rules of the game. Co-optation can be conceptually distinguished as taking two interrelated forms: as instruction, and as an expression of power. Teaching and learning linguistic and cultural competences is the most innocuous and common way of co-opting naïve participants into the shared intentionality inscribed in social systems’ features, and of naïve participants themselves actively co-opting spaces of shared intentionality inscribed in language games and social                                                  12 Grice (1975, 75) refers to this as the “Cooperative Principle” (CP), which is summed up as: “Make your conversational contribution such as is required, at the stage at which it occurs, by the accepted purpose or direction of the talk exchange in which you are engaged.” The CP has four “maxims” (not laws, because these maxims are constantly flouted or violated): quantity (say only what you need to make yourself understood), quality (tell the truth), relevance (say what is appropriate to the conversation or situation), manner (be clear and not obscure). 13 Of course, a speaker can still fail to make themselves understood (they remain obtuse, or simply have not mastered the language they are speaking and cannot offer a clarification), or they repeat a lie. But in these situations, communication will (eventually) fall apart. Even in the case of an ongoing lie, repeated social interaction and communication will only last until the untruth is discovered, in which case the repeated violation of the maxim of truthfulness will damage or even end the relationship.  105  systems’ other structures. Perhaps most obviously, this occurs when language-speakers and culture-knowers – typically caregivers – introduce their benighted young to the signifiers and cultural scripts the young have not yet learned. A caregiver, such as a father, might try to teach the association between an utterance and a thing in the world by repeating the signifier in the presence of the signified, such as by repeatedly uttering “papa” while pointing to himself, until the child responds to, and eventually says, “papa.”  Of course, children – being innately inclined to share mutual understanding – also actively co-opt caregivers’ language games, as any parent learns when they first hear their child utter the parent’s favourite curse word. Recall from my discussion in the previous section, how imitative learning motivates children to seek out the rules of the game, to show they are in tune with the other players and can play the right way. As I explained, a child imitates their parents because they perceive their parents’ actions – the way their parents walk, speak, or engage in any other intentional activity – as “constitutive of the social being of the accomplished adult” (Bourdieu 2000, 154). They are capable and motivated to participate in social actions, to play the game the “right way.” Co-optation through teaching and learning aspects of the shared intentionality inscribed in features of social systems also happens when those who are already proficient in a language or culture try to adopt another. When an agent decides to take language classes in Québec, out of a love for the French language, she is co-opting the French language, by adopting it as her own. Co-optation by sharing or exchanging signifiers across languages also occurs when, for instance, two members from different language groups, who are competent in their respective languages, meet, and – to communicate with one another – begin to exchange signifiers. When Manie, a Cantonese speaker, meets Mirela, a Serbian speaker, and asks: “Bējáu?” Mirela does not 106  understand. Manie makes a gesture like she is lifting something to her mouth to drink. “Ah!” Mirela says, “pivo!” and orders two beers. They cheer, each repeating their word and the newly learned word for beer, “bējáu/pivo.” In this instance, the two members of the different language communities mutually co-opt signifiers from each other’s language, and the repository of known signifiers expands for both parties.  Participants in shared language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts inscribed in social systems may also try to forcibly coerce non-participants into participating in, and expanding the shared intentionality inscribed their social systems’ structures. For instance, by forcing others to speak their language, practice their traditions, and take part in their institutions and spaces of social play. This motivation is driven in part by the normative element that people seem to attach to cultural products – recall even young children taught to play a new game automatically adopt a normative attitude of “this is how we do things.” Furthermore, as I will discuss at greater length in Chapter 5, increasing the number of people who participate in social systems’ spaces of shared intentionality preserves and expands spaces of mutual intelligibility. Recruiting new members (even forcibly) – inscribing social systems’ structures in more bodies (bodies being inclusive of the brain and nervous system) – helps expand the scope and guarantee the longevity of social systems’ spaces of mutual understanding.  Relatedly, forcibly co-opting others to participate in the shared intentionality inscribed in social systems’ structures increases the co-opting agents’ ability to participate in easy communication with minimal effort. This is because the burden of learning new signifiers is shifted onto the shoulders of those who are forced to learn – there is no mutual “exchange” of signifiers and norms when a more powerful group forcibly assimilates a disempowered group. 107  Ease of communication is necessary for achieving mutual understanding, which may be particularly valuable to empowered group members in hierarchical societies: empowered group members (such as colonial rulers and settlers) will be able to issue directives or commands, and be understood, without having to learn the disempowered group members’ (such as colonised peoples’) languages.14 Efforts to draw others into one’s shared intentionality inscribed in features of social systems are not just limited to obvious majorities or empowered groups. The Québécois in Canada, minority speakers on a majority English-speaking continent, have made special efforts to preserve the Québécois social system’s language games, institutions, and other cultural artifacts (for instance, by requiring that the children of parents educated in any language other than English attend French school, or else attend private school). In these examples of co-optation as an expression of power, agents actively try to draw others into their shared intentionality. But the process of being co-opted into a shared intentionality inscribed in features of social systems does not always involve deliberate efforts to co-opt new recruits. Indirect co-optation into the shared intentionality inscribed in language, institutions, and other cultural features occurs through what Jacques Derrida (1998) describes as “the interdict.” The interdict refers to when socio-economic forces – for instance, that English is                                                  14 Another form of coercion is when participants in empowered social groups try to prevent the disempowered (or minorities) from being able to co-opt the shared intentionality inscribed in their forbearers’ social systems. As I discuss in greater detail in Chapter 5, eliminating the disempowered unique linguistic and cultural competences is often an important goal for empowered or majority cultural group members who wish to co-opt subordinated or minority group members into the dominant shared intentionality inscribed in the symbolic and institutional features of social systems. Participating in a subaltern shared intentionality – such as by speaking another language that members of the empowered group do not understand – opens-up avenues for subversion. Eliminating the languages and cultural competences of disempowered or minority groups decreases their capacity to subvert existing hierarchies. Alternatively, empowered groups may prevent the disempowered from adopting certain linguistic or cultural competences, to ensure inter-group boundaries remain intact. For instance, in the United Kingdom, social class is made audible through dialects and speech, and ideological systems demarcating acceptable and unacceptable behaviour prevent lower class members from simply affecting a higher-class accent.  108  the language of commerce in Canada, and most of Canada’s prestigious universities offer instruction in English – ensure that most people will need or prefer to learn English.  Today, English-speaking authorities do not need to institutionalise Ojibway-speaking children to ensure they learn English. The institutions and fields of education (including the education system, but also other cultural products and fields, such as music, television, and radio) and the realities of the economy largely ensure that Ojibway children will speak English. I return to this idea in Chapter 5, where I discuss social differentiation (into collective social identities and fields), and as the motivations for colonialism and co-optation as an expression of power. In the remainder of this section, I describe techniques for co-opting agents, and humans’ practical knowledge’s consequences – bodies shaped by the social and material conditions of their existence’s consequences – for social and political life. The social order inscribes itself in bodies through confrontation, and agents are co-opted into participating in language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts in social systems through everyday pedagogic action and rites of institution. Everyday pedagogic action refers to imposing the culture of a social group on new inductees (e.g., children) whether through family education, institutionalised education, or diffuse education (through fellow social group members), to reproduce the social order (Bourdieu and Passeron 1970, 4). For instance, pedagogic action helps maintain differences between the sexes, which are taught and learned through clothing and appropriate dress, and even through appropriate walking, talking, sitting, and speaking. A parent engages in pedagogic action when they admonish their daughter to “sit like a lady.” Rites of institution refer to the acts of “performative magic” whereby a person assumes their “social fiction,” where the “social image or essence that is conferred on him [or her/them] 109  in the form of names, titles, degrees, posts or honours, and to incarnate it as a legal person, the ordinary or extraordinary member of the group” (Bourdieu 2000, 243). Rites of institution establish the “definitive differences between those who have undergone the rite (for instance, circumcision) and those who have not (for example, women),” through a collective and public performative act (Bourdieu 2000, 175).  As Bourdieu (2000, 218) stresses, rights of institutions are simply an extension of pedagogic action. Rites of institution are “an extra-ordinary” performative instance of “the continuous, infinitesimal and often unnoticed actions that every group exerts on its members… addressed to the child and help to shape his [their] representation of his [their] (generic or individual) capacity to act.” Every small pedagogic action, including acts of nomination – terms of address (Miss, Mrs., Dr.), or terms of reference (such as gendered pronouns) – inscribes a person’s social being, perceived value, and capacity to act in habitus. Both pedagogic action and rites of institutions naturalise social classifications, such as the male/female division, “in the form of divisions in bodies [inclusive of brains]” (as male/female predispositions). These predispositions may take the form of sports preferences (hockey/dance) or colour preferences (blue/pink), or gendered distinctions in speaking, walking, and sitting (Bourdieu 2000, 141).  However, because rites of institution play such a clear role in assigning rights and duties (in distributing power), they are also “rights of investiture” (Bourdieu 2000, 243), “favouring initial investment in the game” (Bourdieu 2000, 141). By reassuring the group member of their legitimacy as a full member of the group, rites of institution help guarantee the group member’s commitment to the group. This benefits the group, because it ensures the group is “known and recognized”, which helps maintain the group’s existence (Bourdieu 2000, 243).  110  The automatic, sensorimotor affective responses that attune agents to social interactions, and make them especially suited to cooperation also promotes co-optation into social systems. Bourdieu describes the primary conditioning of pedagogic action and rites of institution as “psychosomatic action,” that that imprints itself in the “memory pad” of the body, through “emotion and suffering” (Bourdieu 2000, 141). Practical knowledge takes the form of emotion, “the unease of someone who is out of place, or the ease that comes from being in one’s place” (Bourdieu 2000, 141).  Embarrassment in social situations often stems from “unfulfilled expectations” (Goffman 1967). Goffman (1967, 105) describe how interaction participants, “given their social identities and the setting… will sense what sort of conduct ought to be maintained as the appropriate thing,” and how embarrassment ensues when these expectations go unfulfilled. Here, Goffman is describing how primary conditioning inscribes a practical, bodily knowledge of potential and present positions in social space, and how the gap between the expectations inscribed in body and the reality of the world in which the body finds itself is experienced as painful emotions (shame, embarrassment, feeling out of place).  This affective response has the effect of reinforcing social classifications, and bringing the body back into accord with the social and material conditions that shaped it. Practical knowledge takes the form of emotion that motivates “behaviours such as avoidance or unconscious adjustments”  (Bourdieu 2000, 184). Returning to my earlier example of how the male/female social classification is naturalised in divisions in the body as male/female dispositions, consider a boy who loves dance, or a girl who loves hockey. In societies where dance is considered a feminine pastime, the boy (who identifies as male) may be mocked for his passion. The resulting feelings of shame may dissuade him from pursuing dance, contributing to 111  the underrepresentation of boys and men in dance, and the ongoing association of dancing with femininity. In a society where hockey is associated with masculinity, the girl (who identifies as female) who loves hockey may find few girls and women play, watch, or talk about the sport. Feeling out of place, she may avoid hockey games and conversations dominated by boys and men, contributing to the underrepresentation of females in hockey culture and the ongoing association of hockey and masculinity.    As this discussion shows, the implication of inscribing the social order in bodies, in habitus, is that someone who has incorporated social structures “finds” their place in the world right away, and can feel at home in social interaction. And, as I started to explain, habitus is “isomorphic” to the external (political and material) world in the sense that objective factors – including political rights and material inequalities – shape schemes of thought and expression. This ensures the agent’s habitus is roughly adjusted to their world’s structures and tendencies, and thus guarantees the agent is spontaneously attuned to their world’s structures and tendencies (Bourdieu 2000, 139). In Bourdieu’s (2000, 140) words, “we are disposed because we are exposed.” Because agents developed dispositions through exposure and confrontation with the world’s structures and tendencies, habitus dispositions become “the accomplices of the processes that tend to make the probable a reality” (Bourdieu 1990, 64). For instance, those – such as members of the working class – who are objectively less likely to be able to be able to attend university may be taught that a university degree is a frivolous waste of money, creating a disposition (aversion to university) that makes the probable (not attending university) a reality.  No two agents have identical habitus (since no two agents have identical life experiences), but the convergent experiences of the same social group (including social class) members unites group members in a relationship of homology. Homogeneity of conditions of 112  existence homogenises group or class habitus, which can homogenise practices without any direct interaction, calculation, or explicit co-ordination. The homogeneity of group habitus is reflected in the form of statistical regularities, where social group membership (age, gender, residence, social class, ethnicity, etc.) helps predict attitudes (such as political attitudes and opinions), behaviour (such as political behaviour), and taste (such as cultural consumption).  This brings me to another, related consequence of habitus: that habitus comes to define and durably maintain a common-sense world. I explain the practical comprehension of the common-sense world at length in the next section, but I want to briefly note here that the common-sense world’s self-evidence comes from harmonising agents’ experiences. That is, the common-sense world arises and is maintained when agents mutually reinforce one another’s experiences, for instance through the expression of similar or identical experiences (common festivals, common sayings, etc.). This harmonisation of experience allows agents to experience the world as “sensible” and “recognisable” without either explicit reason or signifying intent (Bourdieu 1977, 16:80). Habitus tends to favour experiences that reinforce the self-evidence of the common-sense world by motivating people to seek-out exposure to information that reinforces habitus’ self-evidences, and to avoid exposure to information that calls the common-sense world into question.   4.4 Isomorphism, Homology, and the Common-Sense World  As I started to explain in Chapter 3, the bulk of human communication or language games take place against a set of shared attitudes, competencies, and practices comprising a “common-sense” or “familiar” world. The common-sense world refers to the “stock of self-113  evidences shared by all, which, within the limits of a social universe, ensures a primordial consensus on the meaning of the world, a set of tacitly accepted commonplaces which make confrontation, dialogue, competition and even conflict possible” (Bourdieu 2000, 98). The experience of the world as self-evident arises from two correlated factors: the isomorphism (congruence) of habitus and the world that structures it, and the homology (similarity) between habitus among similarly socially-situated agents.  The first factor, isomorphism, refers to the “quasi perfect coincidence between habitus and habitat,” which produces an “agreement between the dispositions of the agents and the expectations or demands immanent in the world into which they are inserted” (Bourdieu 2000, 147). Recall that habitus’ dispositions become accomplices to the processes that make the probable a reality. For instance, a working-class youth might internalise a feeling of belonging that is isomorphic to their life chances (they are less likely to be admitted to a prestigious university), and so feel embarrassed at the idea of applying to university, and not apply in the first place. A gap between the expectations inscribed in habitus and experience in the world is felt as positive or negative surprise.  The second factor contributing to the experience of the world as self-evident is the tendency for people situated in similar situations to have similar, or homologous habitus. Recall that although no two people have identical habitus (since no two people have identical life experiences), people living in similar conditions of existence tend to have similar cognitive and motivational dispositions inscribed in habitus that are reflected as statistical regularities. The common-sense world arises and is maintained when agents mutually reinforce one another’s experiences, for instance through the expression of similar or identical experiences (common festivals, common sayings, and so on). As I explained in the previous section, this harmonisation 114  of experience allows agents to experience the world as “sensible” and “recognisable” without either explicit reason or signifying intent (Bourdieu 1977, 16:80).   Sharing a common backdrop of mutual understandings and assumptions is essential to human social and cultural life, because when interaction partners share the same tacit knowledge, they can dispense with analysing the nuances of one another’s practices. In ordinary life occasions, they do not have to tacitly or explicitly inquire: “what do you mean?” A shared stock of self-evidences makes “causes practices and works to be immediately intelligible and foreseeable, and hence taken for granted” (Bourdieu 2000, 80). This has enormous consequences for social interaction and collective endeavours, because it allows large numbers of people to participate in common collective endeavours and shared intentions, over long periods of time (including intergenerationally), without conscious effort or direction.  Participating in a common-sense world enables smooth social intercourse and unproblematized talk, which –  particularly everyday talk about the mundane – is essential for achieving democratic social integration, reciprocity, and personality functions. As I discussed in Chapter 3, mundane chitchat should enable speakers to form horizontal social ties, both within and across social group boundaries. And the presupposition of reciprocity implied by communication should foster the reciprocity aims of developing and deepening mutual respect, care, empathy, and trust (e.g., Grice 1975; see also Bourdieu 2000, 122). The kind of mundane chitchat that takes place against a shared stock of self-evidences is particularly effective for strengthening feelings that promote reciprocity because this kind of mundane talk largely occurs without disagreements and misunderstandings, which can strain communication and relationships, and (in the case of chronic disagreement or conflict, or lack of social understanding 115  and belonging) can contribute to personality problems such as low self-efficacy or self-esteem (Baumeister and Leary 1995; Schunk 1984).  The common-sense world not only makes mutual understanding over agreements possible, but also mutual understandings over disagreements. The common-sense world’s classificatory schemes “paradoxically unite those whom they divide” (Bourdieu 2000, 100).  The world’s visions and divisions – inscribed in things (language games and institutions) and in bodies (habitus’ classificatory schemes) – create “position-takings which are immediately recognized as pertinent and meaningful by the very agents whom they oppose and who are opposed to them” precisely because they are common to all agents participating in the social order (Bourdieu 2000, 100). Because this harmonisation of experience allows agents to experience the world as “sensible” and “recognisable” without either explicit reason or signifying intent, agents tend to favour experiences that reinforce the self-evidence of the common-sense and so seek-out exposure to information that reinforces habitus’ self-evidences, and to avoid exposure to information that calls the common-sense world into question (Bourdieu 1977, 16:80). Evidence of this comes from agents’ preference for homophily, or preference for social interaction with similar people (McPherson, Smith-Lovin, and Cook 2001), including agents’ preference to seek out communication partners who share their political views (Bourdieu 1990; R. Huckfeldt et al. 1995; R. R. Huckfeldt, Johnson, and Sprague 2004; Mutz 2002b, 2006). As Bourdieu (1990, 61) explains, “the schemes of perception and appreciation of the habitus which are the basis of all avoidance strategies are largely the product of a non-conscious, unwilled avoidance, whether it results automatically from the conditions of existence (for example, spatial segregation) or has been produced by a strategic intention (such as avoiding ‘bad company’ or ‘unsuitable books’).”  116  Although a shared backdrop of mutual intelligibility is essential for human self-development, and, by enabling everyday talk, can help talk serve democratic functions, the common-sense world can also undermine democratic functions and contribute to harms of oppression and to domination. The common-sense world is the product of struggles to define familiarity. That which is “self-evident, established, settled once and for all, beyond discussion” today has not always been so, but rather has “only gradually imposed itself as such” (Bourdieu 2000, 174). As I alluded in my discussion of co-optation as an expression of power, and will elaborate in Chapter 5, the dominant viewpoint – the viewpoint of the most powerful social group or groups – presents itself as universal, and comes to be experienced as familiar and commonsensical.  The “historical evolution” producing the common-sense world functions to “abolish history” by relegating it to the subconscious (Bourdieu 2000, 174).  Of course, the familiar world could be the product of democratic struggles to define this familiarity: everyday assumptions might include a deep-seated belief all humans are equally valuable regardless of social group membership or nationality, and they might induce people to judge other people by the content of their words and their actions, without attention to their ascribed social group attributes. Indeed, democratic struggles typically aspire to create contexts wherein everyday, unthinking chitchat, and everyday social actions promote the use of skills in socially recognised settings, and participation in social play and communication (to participate in self-development), and as well as agents’ ability to determine their actions and the conditions of their actions (to participate in self-rule) (Young 2011). I return to this idea in Chapter 8, “Achieving Discursive Equality.”  Unfortunately, much of recorded history has not been characterised by democratic social and political systems that empower all social group members’ inclusion in political practices that 117  contribute to self-development and self- and collective-rule. Much of (written) human history has been characterised by oppressive systems of governance, and inequalities that entail exclusions from social, economic, and political practices. As I explained in Chapter 4, struggles to challenge a dominant vision of social space involve struggles to bring the implicit, mutual assumptions comprising orthodoxy the level of explicit statement “to break out of the silent self-evidences” of orthodoxy (Bourdieu 2000, 188). The problem, however, is that the symbolic capital required to bring orthodoxy to the level of explicit statement – and to expand the space of heterodox public opinion, and open the possibility of resolving disagreements and rectifying injustices through rational deliberation – are unevenly distributed. Asymmetrical empowerments and exclusions mean that the disempowered are less likely to be able to push back the self-evidences of orthodoxy imposed by dominant social groups, and as a result the “primordial political viewpoint is a particular viewpoint, that of the dominant, which presents and imposes itself as a universal viewpoint” (Bourdieu 2000, 174). I return to this point in Chapter 5, in my discussion of social differentiation into social groups and fields. I also take this up in Chapter 6, where I discuss how talking can contribute to harms of oppression when structural inequalities engender social group members’ exclusion from communicative participation and influence.   4.5 The Counterweight of the Common-Sense World and Human Agency  Imitative learning plays a central role in maintaining the shared intentions inscribed in language games, institutions, spaces of public appearance, and other cultural artifacts comprising social systems. Imitative learning motivates children to seek out the rules of the game, to show they are in tune with the other players and can play the right way. As I explained, a child imitates 118  their parents because they perceive their parents’ actions as constitutive accomplished adults. As Tomasello (2000, 38) explains, “only cultural learning leads to cumulative cultural evolution in which the culture produces artifacts, such as tools, and symbolic artifacts, such as language and Aramaic numerals – that accumulate modifications over historical time.”  When one person learns something, or creates a new tool, others can learn by imitation and new knowledge and tools are then passed on to subsequent generations, who can improve and pass on what they have learned. Being born into, and growing-up in social systems is like growing-up in “the context of something like the accumulated wisdom of its entire social group, past and present” (Tomasello 2000, 38). This produces the paradoxical effect of rapid, cumulative changes and a peculiar continuity.  Being gifted with, and so being able to innovate upon an entire repertoire of existing cultural artifacts (rather than each generation literally re-inventing the wheel) produces rapid, cumulative changes. At the same time, the tendency to imitate predecessors’ shared intentions inscribed in social systems even if are not helpful – and even if they are harmful – produces peculiar continuity. Consider, for example, innovations in information and communication technologies: because accumulated wisdom is preserved, generations do not have to start from scratch when they invent tools or practices. Steve Jobs did not have to invent either the telephone or the computer to create the iPhone. Jobs could build on what already existed. However, despite adding innovations, we are constantly replicating what came before, even when it does not serve us. To take a much-cited example, consider the inefficient QWERTY keyboard that most English-speakers use for typing. The keyboard is deliberately inefficient, with the most frequently used letters placed furthest away from one another. The initial reason for this was to keep the keys on typewriters from becoming entangled. On today’s iPhone, this is clearly not a 119  concern – and yet the QWERTY keypad remains, because it is what our parents and teachers learned to type on, and taught us to type on, and what we will likely teach our children to type on.  Not only are we innately prone to mimicking that which our forbearers already do, but studies of the diffusion of innovations across social systems show that some ideas are more likely to be spread than others. As Richerson and Boyd (2008) point out, the most important predictors of whether ideas spread between societies are: first, whether the innovation is easy to see; and second, whether the innovation is easy to try. And many important features of social systems’ language games and institutions – such as family structure, gender relations, and other social hierarchies – are not directly observable or easy to try out. As such, we can expect the shared intentions inscribed in the things and bodies comprising social systems to be preserved and passed down faithfully across generations, even when agents affected by social systems’ structures do not benefit from them, and even when agents are aware of alternative ways to form and inscribe collective intentions and wills in ways that would serve them better. As Richerson and Boyd (2008, 162) say, “our propensity to adopt dangerous beliefs is part of the price we pay for the marvelous power of cumulative cultural adaptation.” Because we are innately predisposed to learn by imitation, and because alternative cultural habits are difficult to observe or try out, social learning becomes like a system of inheritance, where much of a person’s behaviour is “a product of beliefs, skills, ethical norms, and social attitudes that are acquired from others with little if any modification” (Richerson and Boyd 2008, 161). This is what I refer to as the “conservative counterweight” of the common-sense world.  120  Of course, even though social systems’ structures, including habitus, determine the conditions under which humans act, they do not determine human actions. The habitus comprising the common-sense world are “structuring structures”. Although habitus are part of social structure (they are the internalisation of the social and material world) and help to set the context of human action, they also act back upon the world – agents can change the contexts of their existence. This is a moral imperative for democracy, for empowering agents to participate in self- and collective-rule.  When symmetrical empowerments are inscribed in social systems (e.g., equal political rights are consecrated in law, political institutions redistribute wealth equitably) agents should be empowered to challenge the taken-for-granted assumptions of the common-sense world through normal procedures, including deliberation. Recall my example of anti-miscegenation laws from Chapter 3, where – after the U.S. Supreme Court’s Loving v. Virginia ruling legally empowered inter-racial couples to justify their relationship – agents in interracial relationships could try and draw conversation partners into epoché (suspend their naïve assumptions) and participate in deliberation to change their minds about the normative rightness of interracial marriage. Although children tend to imitate adults formed under the same conditions, the experience of oppression and injustice can stimulate efforts to change those conditions. Most young adults imitate their parents and marry people like themselves (a principle known as homogamy) (Blackwell 1998; Blackwell and Lichter 2004; McPherson, Smith-Lovin, and Cook 2001).  In social systems where normative expectations include prohibitions against interracial interaction and intimacy, and these prohibitions are consecrated in law as formal prohibitions, most people would marry people of the same race, and never feel a need to question the normative rightness of these assumptions and laws. But when two people from different racial 121  categories meet, fall in love, and want to marry, a social structure’s injustice makes itself felt: the couple must choose between pursuing a forbidden romance (and suffering the consequences of marginalisation, and even physical violence), or complying with the expectations inscribed in social structures (and suffering heartbreak). This tension can motivate efforts to change social structure, such as by using the available procedures (legal challenges and deliberation).     Agency is also called upon when social structures ensconcing agents change, and agents’ taken-for-granted understandings comprising the backdrop are shaken, such as during economic or socio-political revolutions, colonisation, or shorter-term crises (e.g., economic crises, wars, etc.). However, structural inequalities (including inequalities embedded in social systems as discursive inequalities) engender asymmetrical empowerments that prevent agents from changing, or influencing the social systems that structure the cognition and action. In the absence of constitutional rights, the Lovings would not have been able to challenge U.S. anti-miscegenation laws in the Supreme Court. And even after the successful legal challenge, implicit assumptions inscribed in habitus likely undermined the discursive influence of racial minorities’ utterances in everyday talk, slowing their ability to draw others into deliberation. Inequality and asymmetrical empowerments block disempowered social group members’ capacity to agentically or autonomously influence the social systems’ structures that affect them. I take this up in Chapter 6, where I discuss the problem as to how, under conditions of inequality, generic political practices (including talking) can contribute to harms of oppression. And I describe how inequality can block epoché and deliberation, contributing to domination.    122  4.6 Conclusion   The self is a practical comprehension of the material and social world. The mind is conditioned by material, and – perhaps most importantly – by social experiences, to produce a “self” who internalises and so practically understands the world into which they have been inserted. Agents’ capacity for mutual understanding – collaborative activities with shared intentions and goals – allows them to inscribe mutual understandings in language, institutions, and habitus’ cognitive and motivational structures, and so to internalise a practical comprehension of the material and social world.  Humans are born into existing social systems, they co-op and are co-opted into language games, institutional practices, and other cultural practices. The social world inscribes itself into their bodies through pedagogic action and rites of institution, instilling social divisions into their habitus’ cognitive and motivational structures, constructing bodies to conform to the conditions in which they find themselves. This isomorphism between habitus and the world, and the homology between similarly situated agents’ habitus creates the experience of a common-sense world. The experience of a space of mutually shared understandings and assumptions, that enable smooth social interaction and unproblematized everyday talk. Understanding how the world conditions minds is central for the aim of empowering people to participate in and influence communicative processes of collective agenda formation. This is because conditions of structural inequality can systematically engender “selves” with weakened capacities to participate in, or influence communicative processes, and prevent talk from functioning democratically. In Chapter 5, I describe how human plurality, characterised by a twofold need of belonging and distinction, contributes to social differentiation, to collective 123  social identifications as well as the proliferation of fields of social play. I also describe how structural inequalities contribute to the development of discursive inequalities. In Chapter 6, I develop this discussion and describe how, under conditions of structural inequality, talking can contribute to harms of oppression and to systems of domination.    124  Chapter 5: Spaces of Public Appearance    The agent with claims to empowerment is a practical self, a system of dispositions inscribed by their social and material conditions of existence. But as my discussion of co-optation through pedagogic action and rites of institution in Chapter 4 suggests, social life does not simply entail living in the presence of other individuals. Rather, it entails living embedded in overlapping social spaces: in overlapping social identifications (with recognised fellow social group members and non-group members) as well as rule-bound social subsystems (the fields of art, law, education, etc.). Social spaces are the contexts or underlying frameworks that give meaning to agents’ speech and action, so agents can reveal who they are through speech and action.  The purpose of this chapter is to describe how social systems become differentiated into spaces of public appearance (into social identities and fields), and outline the implications of societal differentiation for distributing and maintaining shared intentions – particularly, for distributing and maintaining power relations – inscribed in language games, institutions, or other cultural features of social systems. That social systems are always differentiated by overlapping social identities and by fields drives my concern with the problem of when structural inequalities engender asymmetrical empowerments that entail the systematic exclusion of disempowered social group members from political practices that contribute to self- and collective-rule. As I discussed in Chapter 2, social systems benefit from structural political, material, and interactional (including discursive) equalities. Structural political inequalities refer to gaps in political rights between social groups, whereas material inequality refers to economic or resource gaps between social groups. Interactional inequalities refer to when objective inequalities 125  structure agents’ subjectivities – their thoughts and feelings – to engender asymmetries in economic, social, and political participation or influence. Discursive inequalities are a kind of interactional inequality that refers more specifically to when objective inequalities structure agents’ subjectivities to engender asymmetries in communicative participation or influence. Objective inequalities entail external exclusions (or constraints) that prevent agents from participating in or influencing practices of self-development and collective-rule regardless of agents’ thought, beliefs, or motivations. And interactional inequalities entail internal exclusions (or constraints) that prevent agents from participating in or influencing practices of self-development and collective-rule by shaping agents’ thought, beliefs, or motivations.  Let me review the example of women’s political engagement I introduced in Chapter 2, to clarify the relationship between inequality and exclusion, and the distinction between objective/intersubjective inequalities (on the one hand) and external/internal exclusions (on the other). Gendered gaps in political participation rights – such as a restricted franchise that prohibits women from voting – entails women’s external exclusion from electoral participation. Restrictive electoral laws are an external barrier preventing women from participating in and influencing elections, irrespective of women’s (or men’s) thoughts or motivations. But even after women’s enfranchisement – after formal, external legal barriers to their participation were dismantled – women did not begin voting or participating in politics at the same rate as men. This is because interactional inequalities – norms (or intersubjectively held beliefs) that politics is a man’s game, or that women are not suited for politics – shape gents’ social cognition and motivation to entail women’s internal exclusion from political engagement.  126  In the first section of this chapter I explicate a notion implied by my discussion of practical knowledge, which Hannah Arendt (2013) describes as “human plurality.” Human plurality refers to agents’ simultaneous similarity and difference from each other, which motivates social action. In the second section, I draw on social psychology to explain the motivational and cognitive bases for social identification. The simultaneous psychological need for belonging/inclusion and distinctness/separation, which social psychologists call “optimal distinctiveness,” is the motivational basis for social group identification (Brewer 1991, 2003, 2011; Brewer and Pickett 1999; Leonardelli, Pickett, and Brewer 2010). The cognitive underpinnings of social group formation stem from the need for “cognitive economy” and cognitive capacity to participate in categorisation (Gaertner et al. 1993; Hogg 2006; Hornsey 2008; Macrae and Bodenhausen 2000; Perdue et al. 1990; Turner 1987).  In the third section, I describe another form of societal differentiation, what Bourdieu (1977, 1990, 2000) describes as differentiation in fields, defined as overlapping, rule-bound systems of social play. The rise of capitalism increased the number of fields and the relations between fields in social systems, contributing social systems’ growing complexity and differentiation. In the fourth section of this chapter, I turn my attention to the question of power relations, and how power relations can be created and maintained by inscribing them in institutions’, habitus’, and fields’ shared intentionality. In this section I describe how sets of government institutions, or political systems, are created to direct and protect social systems’ space of shared intentionality. Political systems differ in the degree to which they succeed in (dis)empowering those affected by them to participate in self- and collective-rule (ranging from democratic social systems to those characterised by oppression and even domination). Political 127  systems act an “organized remembrance” (Arendt 2013, 198) or “containers” (Giddens 1984, 261), storing shared intentionality and power distributions.  In this fourth section, I elucidate a notion I introduced in Chapter 4: that social group members may be motivated to forcibly co-opt new agents into participating in the shared intentionality inscribed in their social systems, to expand and give permanence to their social space. This is particularly likely when preserving and expanding social space preserves or expands asymmetrical power relations benefitting the co-opting group members. In the fifth section, I discuss the ideal of political systems that direct and protect social systems’ language games, spaces of public appearance, and habitus to engender inclusions and symmetrical empowerments.   5.1 Human Plurality and the Need for Revelation and Recognition    In Chapter 4 I described humans’ sensorimotor capacity for intersubjectivity, and the shared intentionality skills that enable and motivate people to inscribe intersubjective understandings in symbolic and cultural achievements such as language. I also discussed how, although agents with similar life experiences will share many similarities (they will have homologous habitus), no two agents’ experiences are ever identical, and neither are their habitus. Hannah Arendt (2013, 220) describes this simultaneous human sameness and distinctiveness as the condition of plurality, and describes human plurality as “the sine qua non for that space of appearance which is the public realm.”  Human plurality is characterised by what Arendt (2013, 175) describes as “the twofold character of equality and distinction.” By “equality,” Arendt (2013, 175) means a fundamental 128  “sameness” that allows agents to “understand each other and those who came before them,” as well as to “plan for the future and foresee the needs of those who will come after them.” The similarity refers to the capacity to internalise shared understandings in habitus.  By contrast, human distinctness refers to the perhaps obvious fact that humans are different from one another. Note that human distinctness does not refer to the fact that sexual reproduction ensures almost all humans are genetically different from each other (except for identical twins). Human distinctness refers to the fact that no two people have identical life experiences, and so no two people have the same practical knowledge of the world; each practical self is distinct. Even “identical” (monozygotic, or maternal) twins sharing identical genetic properties with similar life trajectories will be distinct, since they cannot have identical interactions with the same people at the same moments in time, nor identical experiences in the physical world at the same moments. When genetically identical (maternal) twins are old enough to articulate themselves – to express who they are through speech and action – they will be revealing distinct selves.  While agents’ fundamental similarity makes mutual comprehension possible, agents’ fundamental distinctiveness makes efforts aimed at mutual comprehension necessary. If humans were not “distinguished from any other who is, was, or ever will be,” humans would not need to signify underlying referents or meanings using mutually comprehensible words and meaningful action. Making sounds to “communicate immediate, identical needs and wants would be enough” (Arendt 2013, 175–76). But humans do more that communicate things, they communicate their practical selves, their lifetimes of experiences.  This simultaneous sameness and difference drives two fundamental psychological needs – the need for belonging and distinction – which together motivate social group identification. I 129  return to this point in the next section. But before I discuss how human plurality drives motivational basis for social identification, I must highlight the fact that practical selves must be communicated to other people. A person’s words and deeds only acquire meaning when they are understood and recognised by others.  Bourdieu (2000, 239) describes the “link between three indisputable and inseparable anthropological facts” driving humans’ need for meaning and recognition from others. First: people know they are mortal. Second: the thought of death is unbearable. And, following from this, third: man is haunted by the need for recognition and justification for his temporary existence. Only other people – the social world, or what Arendt calls the space of appearances – can satisfy this quest to justify our temporary existence.15 Only other people can recognise one’s existence as something (worthwhile, great, even terrible). Without this recognition from others, humans are abandoned to “absurdity” of a life without meaning (Bourdieu 2000, 239).  Living a meaningful life, having one’s words and deeds recognised by others, requires a “space of appearances” for revealing oneself to others, and recognising others in turn. Arendt’s discussion is deeply influenced by the Greek polis, and she describes the space of appearances as the public realm. In today’s pluralised societies, it makes more sense to discuss spaces of appearance, or publics. In the next section I explain why, although all healthy democracies include a broader public sphere (and we can even speak of an international public sphere), the search for optimal distinctiveness motivates agents to seek out specialised groups of social peers for everyday processes of mutual revelation and recognition that contribute to self-development.                                                   15 Bourdieu references Pascal, who suggests meaning comes from other people (the social world), or God. I restrict my focus in this analysis to the profane.   130  “Peers” can be identified through social identities, by collectively identifying with a social identity (or social identities). Peers can also be identified through shared participation in fields, through the workplace (in the fields of law, academia, medicine, etc.), or through shared participation in leisure and consumption (in fields of cultural production such as art and music, or through fields of sports). In the subsequent two sections I describe the differentiation of societies into social identities and in fields, which act as distinct but overlapping spaces of public appearance.  As my discussion below shows, societal differentiation does not mean “the” public sphere is under siege. By separating social spaces into fields that follow different logics, societal differentiation protects public spaces from the means-oriented logic of the economy, opening venues for other goal-oriented actions (such transforming private interests into collective agendas). And in healthy democratic systems, the broader public sphere should be undergirded and communicatively linked to disempowered agents’ subaltern spaces of appearances, such as the “feminist subaltern counterpublic” (Fraser 1990).  5.2 Social Differentiation through Social Identities   One essential space for appearances – for self-revelation and recognition – is within collective social identities. As I noted in the previous section, human plurality (fundamental human sameness and difference) drives the psychological needs for belonging and distinction, which motivate social identification processes. This motivation, combined with the cognitive need to simplify information by organising it categorically, contributes to social differentiation. 131  In this section, I define what I mean by “social identity,” and describe the motivational and cognitive bases for social group identification.   Social or collective identities refer to the parts of “an individual’s self-concept which derives from his [their] knowledge of his [their] membership of a social group… together with the value and emotional significance attached to that membership” (Tajfel 1981). Note that although social identities are often formed around social group memberships, social group (or category) memberships and social identities are not interchangeable. Group memberships may be imposed, but identities are chosen (Brewer 1991). People can “recognize that they belong to any number of social groups without adopting those classifications as social identities” (Brewer 1991).   Optimal distinctiveness theory is the leading theory explaining the motivational underpinnings of identity-formation (Brewer 1991, 2003, 2011; Brewer and Pickett 1999; Leonardelli, Pickett, and Brewer 2010). This theory posits that “social identity derives from a fundamental tension between human needs for validation and similarity to others (on the one hand) and a countervailing need for uniqueness and individuation (on the other)” (Brewer 1991, 477). The psychological need for security or belonging is well-established in the psychology literature (see Baumeister and Leary 1995 for a review). And the idea that people need a degree of individuation (e.g., Codol 1984; Lemaine 1974; Maslach 1974) or uniqueness (Snyder and Fromkin 1980) is not novel either.  The optimal distinctiveness theory recognises that both these needs are always present, and posits that efforts to balance these countervailing needs motivate social identification processes. Because social identities simultaneously provide inclusion (within the salient in-group) and differentiation (between group comparisons), they “allow us to be the same and 132  different at the same time” (Brewer 1991, 477). Brewer (1991, 477) gives the example of adolescent peer groups, where each cohort “develops styles of appearance and behavior that allow individual teenagers to blend in with their age mates while ‘sticking out like a sore thumb’ to their parents.”  Social identities vary in their degree of inclusiveness, from very broad social groupings that include many agents with few common characteristics (such as nationalities, or gender groupings), to more exclusive categories with fewer people or many overlapping features (Vancouver’s queer women of colour).  The optimal level of inclusiveness shifts when different needs are aroused. For instance, a deindividuation experience (e.g., an agent is told they are average, or indistinguishable from a larger social group) arouses the need for differentiation and motivates a preference for more exclusive social identities (Brewer, Manzi, and Shaw 1993). For instance, a woman who told she is a “typical woman” may feel inclined to highlight an aspect of her identity that distinguishes her from the socially-defined, prototypical “woman” (e.g., she may point-out that she is a computer programmer). By contrast, over-individuation leaves agents open to stigmatisation and isolation, motivating “a selective need for assimilation to a distinct in-group” (Brewer 1991, 479). When agents are highly individuated (e.g., being a queer woman of colour in Vancouver), they are motivated to form social identities based on what makes them stand out. By creating a social identity around the attribute(s) that make them stand out, they create a space of appearances where they fit in.  Balancing the needs for belonging and distinctiveness explains the motivation for social identification (the “why?” question), but it does not answer the “how?” question. The cognitive underpinnings of social identification stem from the need for “cognitive economy,” and the 133  cognitive capacity for categorisation. The principle of cognitive economy asserts that we create categories to increase cognitive efficiency. Categorisation is one of the most important and basic processes of human cognition, preventing cognitive overload by simplifying large quantities of information, and organising our perception of the world (David L. Hamilton and Tina K. Trolier 1986; Hinton 2000). Understanding how agents come to see themselves and others categorically – to recognise themselves and others as social group members – is important, because social categorisation has consequences for how people think and interact. The leading approach for understanding social categorisation is the social cognitive approach. Within this approach there are two compatible theories for understanding category structure: prototype models and associative networks. The prototype model proposes two general principles for the formation of categories. The first of these principles – cognitive economy – is familiar. The principle of cognitive economy asserts that we create categories to increase cognitive efficiency.  The prototype model’s second general principle is referred to as “perceived world structure.” The principle of perceived world structure asserts that objects in the world are perceived to possess a high correlational structure. Rosch (1999) gives the example of a person who, upon perceiving the attributes of feathers, fur, and wings, realises that feathers co-occur more often with wings than with fur. Of course, as Rosch points-out, our association of feathers with wings is not merely a product of the physical environment, but also the social environment; specifically, that we have already possess a cultural and linguistic category called “birds.”  A prototype refers to the “most typical”’ member of a category (Operario and Fiske 2001). The prototype theory of categorisation follows Wittgenstein’s (1953) insight that humans deal with categorisation on the basis of “clearest cases,” defined as “peoples’ judgments of 134  goodness of membership in the category,” and not by reference to category boundaries (Rosch 1999, 36). Thus, category membership is determined by goodness-of-fit in the category (which is subjective, but – although there are variations across individuals – these perceptions tend to be inscribed in culture, and so consistent across members of the same cultural group), and not by strict boundaries delineating category membership.  The more prototypical a category member is rated, the “more attributes it has in common with other members of the category and fewer attributes in common with members of the contrasting category” (Rosch 1999, 37; see also Rosch and Mervis 1975). Thus, for instance, a sparrow is a more prototypical (representative) member of the category “birds,” while a penguin is a less prototypical category member. Sparrows have many attributes in common with other birds (they chirp, fly, nest, etc.), while penguins do not. By contrast, penguins have many attributes that are not shared with other birds (penguins do not fly, they are excellent ocean divers, etc.), while sparrows do not. The associative network model is a second model for explaining category structure within the social cognitive approach. Associative network model is compatible with the prototype model, and helps clarify some of the basic assumptions of the prototype model. According to associative network model, information is stored in mental structures called nodes, and each node corresponds to a single concept (a name, object, personality trait, place, emotional response, etc.) (Operario and Fiske 2001; see also Carlston and Wyder 1994). Each of these nodes is interconnected by links, which map out meaningful associations between the concepts contained within each individual node. These inter-nodal links are what structure people’s mental representations – stronger links denote more significant associations between concepts, while weaker links denote less meaningful associations. The nature of nodal linkages varies with 135  perceivers’ experiences: “links increase or decrease in strength depending on the perceived correlation between concepts, and new nodal links can develop according to new associations between previously unpaired concepts” (Operario and Fiske 2001, 29).    Understanding how the cognitive underpinnings of social identification functions is important for my discussion of discursive inequities in Chapter 6. Stereotypes, or cognitive categories containing assumptions about the attributes of social group members, are a particularly ubiquitous discursive inequity.  As I explain in Chapter 6, experiences in the natural and social world structures the linkages between nodes, which can include links between semantic concepts, such as between social groups and human attributes (e.g., the link between the social group “women,” and the attribute of being “nurturing”). With greater exposure to the co-occurrence of semantic concepts, the link between these concepts becomes stronger, denoting a more significant association between these concepts. In Chapter 6, I discuss how stereotypes embedded in habitus’ cognitive and motivational structures can structure communication, engendering internal exclusions that entail asymmetries of communicative influence as discursive inequity.  5.3 Social Differentiation through Fields  Societies can also be differentiated into fields, which, like social identities, can act as spaces of public appearance and recognition. Fields are spaces of social play, defined by a set of (often implicit) rules. Social identification is motivated by the simultaneous psychological impetuses to fit in and stand out, revealing a social self who simultaneously belongs to a group (and experiencing security, solidarity, and intimacy) and who is distinct from others (and 136  experiencing validation and recognition) are the ends in themselves. By contrast, fields are intention-oriented spaces of social action, organised around a common aim or dedicated to “the pursuit of specific goals” (Bourdieu 2000, 11).  Of course, participating in intention-oriented understandings with others can bring a sense solidarity or comfort. Recall that even very young children seem intrinsically motivated to feel out and play by the “rules of the game,” developing a normative attachment to the structure of the game (“this is how we play”) that may satisfy a need to belong (Rakoczy, Warneken, and Tomasello 2008).  And of course, games create spaces for validation and recognition, to be – and be recognised – as something (the best, the worst, or whatever). But fields are ostensibly organised around some other, primary aim: practicing law or medicine, the pursuit of philosophy, the creation of music, an open market for the exchange of private property for profit, and so on.  An agent reveals their self, and receives recognition and glory – validation for their temporary existence – by pursuing a goal ostensibly aimed at something other than belonging or distinction. The pianist’s goal is, ostensibly, to master Chopin’s Études or Franz Liszt’s compositions. But in so doing, the pianist demonstrates their mastery of the most technically difficult piano pieces, earning them recognition and acclaim. Taking part in a field means taking the stakes of the game seriously. The stakes of the game arise from the logic of the game itself, and “establish its seriousness” not only to participants, but also “lay people” involved in other fields (e.g., even non-pianists should be able to recognise the seriousness of mastering a technically difficult piece of music) (Bourdieu 2000, 11). The field’s logic (the “feel for the game”) is established in habitus (e.g., expressed as an artistic “spirit”).   Bourdieu genealogically describes the rise of Western philosophy as a distinct field. Bourdieu (2000, 18) identifies the philosophic field’s origins in Ancient Greece, describing how 137  “a universe of argument governed by its own rules” developed, wherein “everyone acted as an audience for everyone else, was constantly attentive to the others” (Bourdieu 2000, 18). The institutionalization of the scholastic order was clarified in the Middle Ages, when philosophy ceased to be a way of life and became “a purely theoretical and abstract activity… articulated in a technical language reserved for specialists” (Bourdieu 2000, 18–19). The process of differentiating philosophy from other academic fields reappeared in Renaissance Italy, and then accelerated with rise of capitalism. With capitalism, the economy was constituted “as such, in the objectivity of a separate universe, governed by its own rules, those of self-interested calculation, competition, and exploitation” (Bourdieu 2000, 19, see also 1977, 16:171–83).  This discussion shows that fields can develop in any society. However, the rise of capitalism breaks off and reserves a specialised sphere for economic activity, which freed other fields to operate by logics besides the naked exchange of economic capital. Separate fields can more easily “constitute themselves as closed, separate microcosms,” in which “thoroughly symbolic, pure and (from the point of view of the economic economy) disinterested actions” can be performed (Bourdieu 2000, 19). The emergence of these distinct “universes” offers positions for perceiving the world, and for developing distinct world views (Bourdieu 2000, 20). Agents belong to multiple, overlapping fields. Fields may be larger with more amorphous boundaries, with many diverse agents participating in a wide-ranging goal or set of goals (e.g., economic exchange in a capitalist economy). Or fields can be smaller with more determinate boundaries, with fewer agents participating in a very specific goal of set of goals (e.g., Western philosophy). Fields’ boundaries are marked by where their effects end. Fields encompass social positions structured internally in terms of power relationships, such as the relationships between property owners and employees, or between tenured philosophy professors and sessional 138  instructors. Fields are also organised hierarchically in social space in relation to other fields; for instance, non-economic universes of social play may be subsumed under the economic field.  Fields prescribe or favour certain actions through both formal, explicit rules as well as more implicit constraints. These constraints include the “conditions of exchange (form and forum discussion, legitimate problematic, etc.),” and, as I discussed in Chapter 4, habitus, or “the dispositions of the agents which are the product of this set of effects” (Bourdieu 2000, 112). These constraints also include the “institutionalized procedures regulating entry into the game (selection and co-option).” Entrance (co-optation and selection) into a field is regulated, particularly entrance into smaller fields with more determine boundaries and specific purposes.  Regulating entrance into fields is essential because, for fields to effectively offer spaces of public appearances – so agents can “be understood and recognized” –  they must exclude aspirants “who lack the necessary competence to compete effectively”  (Bourdieu 2000, 112). Consider how academic disciplines try to restrict participation by including competent/ excluding incompetent peers through graduate studies admissions and exams, conference and journal rejections/acceptances, hiring practices, and so on. The overt aim of this gatekeeping is to ensure that the discipline’s peer group can competently produce, review, and critique or praise discipline-specific academic work.  The primary distinction between social identities and fields is social identities allow for the expression of belonging and distinction (the end), whereas that fields are rule-bound systems ostensibly organised around other ends (although they create opportunities for belonging and distinction while pursuing other goals). Of course, social identities can be the basis of fields, and inscribed in rule-bound systems oriented to achieving specific goals. For instance, a religious identity may be inscribed in a rule-bound system oriented to achieving God’s will, or God’s 139  glory on earth, through sacred and profane practices. And fields may form the basis of identities. For instance, the field of class relations may become the basis for social identification; in Marx’s words, when a class in itself becomes a class for itself.  A central thesis in Bourdieu’s corpus (e.g., Bourdieu 1977, 1984, 1990, 2000; Bourdieu and Passeron 1970) is that – even though capitalism had the effect of constituting the economy as a separate field, governed by its own rules, and enabled the proliferation of other fields, governed by logics ostensibly unrelated to naked economic exchange – all fields remain concerned with distributions of capital and power. This is implied by the fact that fields are rule-bound, goal-oriented spaces of social play that create space for mutual revelation and recognition. Knowledge of the rules (e.g., properly internalising and playing by a fields’ rules), and mastering the required skills for achieving the field’s goals, are a form of symbolic capital that give possessors the power to play the game, and reveal themselves in that field’s space of appearances. That fields remain concerned with distributions of capital and power without agents’ recognition or awareness that they are concerned with distributions of capital and power is problematic. Economic capital can be converted into symbolic capital in fields to try and obfuscate overt domination, to transform overt domination into misrecognised, or “socially recognized” domination and oppression (Bourdieu 1977, 16:192). For Bourdieu (1977), symbolic capital is simply a “disguised form” of economic capital (p. 183), a kind of credit that is “readily convertible back into economic capital” (p. 179). To phrase it another way, symbolic capital arises from assigning status functions – or to assigning functions on entities that cannot perform their functions without the imposition – to non-economic goods (e.g., J. Searle 2010; J. R. Searle 1995, 2013). The status functions assigned to symbolic capital exercise deontic powers, which refers to powers that exist because they are acknowledged, recognised, or accepted. 140  Procedures regulate entry into fields, and only some actors will be recruited or co-opted into playing. In differentiated societies, the fields of economic production have ostensibly been separated from the fields of cultural production. However, only certain social group members will be recruited into participating in – will be taught to play by the rules of – certain cultural scripts. Bourdieu (1984, 225) describes how, in differentiated societies, the means for appropriating esteemed cultural heritages is unequally distributed, and so culture can function as cultural capital, as misrecognised tool for oppression and domination. By contrast, in undifferentiated societies, the means for appropriating cultural scripts is “fairly equally distributed, so that culture is fairly equally mastered by all members of the group and cannot function as cultural capital, i.e. as an instrument of domination [and oppression]” (Bourdieu 1984, 225).  For instance, dominant class members or empowered social group members will learn the upper class or dominant cultural scripts (haute culture, the dominant language, proper etiquette, etc.), whereas lower class or disempowered social group members will not. Fields’ rules are internalised in habitus as dispositions, as a kind of “practical recognition” of social space and one’s place in it (or not). It is the recognition that a working-class person is “out of place” in a fine dining restaurant where they are under-dressed and unsure of how to use the cutlery, since they do not possess the tacit knowledge embodied by upper class diners. It is the feeling that a woman or other historically politically excluded social group member is “out of place” in politics, since they look different from the rest of the politicians, and are unfamiliar with the norms regulating conduct. It is through this “practical recognition” that “the dominated, often unwittingly, contribute to their own domination by tacitly accepting, in advance, the limits imposed on them” 141  (Bourdieu 2000, 169). That is, disempowered social group members avoid participating in spaces of social play where they do not know the rules. When they do participate, they risk revealing a practical self who is ill-fit for the field, who may be disparaged by the field’s other participants. Since fields distribute and regulate different forms of capital, fields help preserve power relations.   5.4 Preserving Power Relations    Agents partially overcome the transience of corporeal, sensorimotor intersubjectivity by inscribing shared intentions in languages and institutions, and – ultimately – in social spaces of public appearance. However, as Arendt (2013, 197) notes, these spaces of public appearance, for “the sharing of words and deeds,” are still characterised by transience and futility: words might be forgotten, and deeds may leave no impression. Agents can design a set of government institutions – to which I collectively refer to as government systems – to direct and protect the broader social systems’ spaces of shared intentionality. Arendt (2013, 198) describes how the ancients countered the futility of speech and action by creating the polis to give permanence to speech and action, and act as a kind of “organized remembrance.” The polis was one example of a government system, where a set of government institutions not only directs, preserves, and expands the shared intentionality inscribed in a social systems’ features, but can also symbolically consecrate asymmetric power relations by recording and legitimating social identities’ and fields’ distinctions into law. Anthony Giddens (1985) describes political systems as “containers” that store authoritative resources; political systems are tasked with determining distributions of power within social systems. Giddens (1984, 261) 142  describes the city (polis) as the original form of container, and – like Arendt’s description of the polis as an organised remembrance – describes the city-state as a  “medium of ‘binding’ involving, on the level of action, the knowledgeable management of a projected future and recall of an elapsed past.” Giddens describes how the advent of modern capitalism broke-up the polis, and replaced with a new type of container: the state.  Containers, or the sets of institutions comprising government systems help preserve social systems’ shared intentionality (including power relations) by recording – or symbolically consecrating – shared intentions and the structure of power relations between social groups and fields into law. Law records and coordinates social systems’ features, including language games, spaces of public appearance, and practical identities. Under conditions of inequality, empowered social group members may forcibly try and harmonise agents’ experiences, to impose their vision of social space and enforce the self-evidences of empowered social group members’ orthodoxy. Total institutions are extreme examples of efforts to harmonise agents’ experiences and impose a dominant orthodoxy, such as when Canadian-European settlers subjected Indigenous children to residential schooling, or when totalitarian governments send political dissidents to internment camps. But even following the underlying institutional rules of more benign institutions – including public schools, welfare assistance programs, or the language games of dominant social group members – can contribute to harmonising agent’s experiences and imposing dominant orthodoxy.  For instance, laws record and legitimate “official languages.” Recording official languages into law has consequences for social systems’ language games, practical identities, spaces of public appearance, and power relations, since designating a language “official” assigns it deontic powers, and converts language-use into symbolic capital. With respect to practical 143  identities, agents who speak the official language – and speak it masterfully, as or like a native-speaker – will have greater status, and will be the most desirable school applicants, the most hirable, and the most electable. This can create variation in official-language speakers’ and other-language-speakers’ internalised perceptions of life chances, and thus their choices about whether and which schools or jobs to apply to, and whether and which level of politics to participate in. With respect to social spaces, official-language public spheres and official-language-speaker social identification may have greater status than subaltern language spheres and other-language-speaker identifications. Like economic capital, this symbolic capital constitutes an interdict  that can dis-incentivise other-language-speakers from identifying as such, and discourage them from participating in a subaltern language public sphere  (e.g. Derrida 1998).  In addition to using official designations to create symbolic capital and the interdict’s subtler force, government systems can actively suppress or prevent shared intentions inscribed in social systems from being learned and replicated. For instance, consider Canada’s government-sponsored, mass institutionalisation of Indigenous children in residential schools, which represented an explicit and deliberate attempt to “kill the Indian in the child” (Harper 2008). Students were physically punished for “speaking Indian,” and were told that their cultural practices were sinful and evil (“Truth and Reconciliation,” n.d., 84–86).  John Kitabish, an Algonquin survivor from a residential school in Amos, Quebec, testified to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission that when he left the school he could no longer speak Algonquin, and his parents could not speak French. John Kitabish explained that, “we were well anyway because I knew that they were my parents, when I left the residential school, but the communication wasn’t there” (“Truth and Reconciliation,” n.d., 85). The 144  government program not only co-opted Mr. Kitabish into speaking an official Canadian language (French), it prevented his co-option of Algonquin. Furthermore, by preventing the Kitabishs from communicating with their son, the government program impeded the Kitabishs’s ability to co-opt their son into learning and participating in other shared intentions inscribed in the Algonquin social systems’ cultural practices. Recall from Chapter 4 that, in ordinary life occasions, when interaction partners share a common backdrop of implicit and embodied knowledge, they do not have to tacitly or explicitly inquire: “what do you mean?” A shared stock of self-evidences makes “causes practices and works to be immediately intelligible and foreseeable, and hence taken for granted” (Bourdieu 2000, 80). The government-sponsored residential school system that separated Indigenous children from their parents and forced them into total institutions prevented people like John Kitabish from enjoying the same backdrop of implicit and embodied knowledge as their parents and elders. The residential school system also aimed to ensure that if residential school survivors explicitly asked their parents clarifying questions (“what do you mean?”), their parents would have trouble communicating a mutually comprehensible explanation.    As this discussion suggests, social group members (e.g., English or French settlers) may be motivated to forcibly co-opt new agents (e.g., Indigenous peoples) into participating in the shared intentionality inscribed in their social systems, to expand and give permanence to their social space. The motivation to co-opt new members is particularly powerful when preserving and expanding social space preserves or expands asymmetrical power relations that benefit the co-opting power. When empowered groups forcibly co-opt participants into their social systems, they co-opt new agents on their norm-conditional terms. Co-opted recruits must participate in the co-opting group’s language games and institutions, and even participate in the co-opting groups’ 145  sanctioned spaces of public appearance, including sanctioned social identities and fields of social play. Through their participation, the co-opted group members help reconstitute, expand, and give permanence to co-opting group’s social system, including the asymmetrical power relations that empower co-opting group members (see also Fanon 2007).  As Bourdieu (1984, 248) explains, dominated social group members and classes are often condemned to being defined as “low” or “vulgar,” and “anyone who wants to ‘succeed in life’ must pay for his [their] accession… by a change of nature, a ‘social promotion’ experienced as an ontological promotion, a process of ‘civilization’.” When a disempowered or colonised social group member internalises a dominating group’s shared intentionality, they often internalise shame for their “language, his [their] body and his [their] tastes, and everything he was [they were] bound to, his [their] roots, his [their] family, his [their] peers, sometimes even his [their] mother tongue, from which he is [they are] now separated from a frontier more absolute than any taboo” (Bourdieu 1984, 249). Government systems direct, preserve, and expand the shared intentionality inscribed in a social systems’ features, and can symbolically consecrate asymmetric power relations by recording distinctions into law. Recall from the previous section that because social systems’ features (such as fields) distribute and regulate different forms of capital, they help preserve power relations. Law records and coordinates social systems’ features, and so records and coordinates power relations.      146  5.5 The Democratic Aim of Creating and Preserving Symmetrical Power Relations   Bourdieu (1977, 16:188) suggests that the only purpose of law is to “symbolically consecrate… the structure of the power relationship between groups and classes,” that law’s purpose is to legitimate oppression and domination.  Bourdieu is correct in identifying this as a potential function. However, as I introduced in Chapter 1, and discussed at length Chapter 2, government institutions can be designed to consecrate either asymmetrical power relations (reproducing social systems characterised by oppression and domination), or symmetrical power relations (reproducing democratic social systems). Although I have introduced the problem that conditions of structural inequality generate asymmetrical power relations between social groups that entail exclusions and contribute to harms of oppression (a point I elucidate in Chapter 6), I must remind my readers that social systems vary in the degree to which they are democratic or oppressive and characterised by domination, and that more democracy is both better and possible. Equality means that empowerments are distributed in ways that enable those affected by collective endeavours to participate in, and influence all social practices. Equality means that symmetrical empowerments entail the inclusion of all social group members in participating in and influencing cultural reproduction, their social identifications, and fields of social play; that the capacity to participate in self-development does not vary by social groups. Equality means that symmetrical empowerments entail the inclusion of all social group members in participating in and influencing generic political practices that serve democratic functions, such as voting, representing, talking, and so on; so that the capacity to participate in self- and collective-rule does not vary by social groups. Participating in and influencing political practices is necessary 147  for agents to form individual preferences into collective wills, and – ultimately – for communities to make collective decisions. This, obviously, includes collective decisions about which social systems’ features should be recorded into law, and how law should coordinate social systems’ language games and other institutional and cultural artefacts, spaces of public appearance, and power relations.   5.6 Conclusion  Social life entails living embedded in overlapping social spaces that give meaning to agents’ words and deeds. Social systems are differentiated into spaces of public appearance, including overlapping, variable social identifications. Human plurality – humans’ fundamental sameness and difference – means that humans are both capable of understanding one another, and need to make themselves understood. This creates the fundamental psychological needs for belonging and distinction, which are satisfied through collective social identifications. Social identities allow for people to be the same (as fellow group members) and different (from out-group members) at the same time (Brewer 1991, 2003, 2011; Brewer and Pickett 1999; Leonardelli, Pickett, and Brewer 2010). The cognitive capacity for categorisation and need for cognitive efficiency catalyses social differentiation (Gaertner et al. 1993; Hogg 2006; Hornsey 2008; Macrae and Bodenhausen 2000; Perdue et al. 1990; Turner 1987). Fields provide another space for validation and recognition, to be – and be recognised – as something (the best, the worst, anything at all). The rise of capitalism increased the number of fields and the relations between fields in social systems, and, by bracketing off a specific social space for economic exchange, opened spaces that could be governed by logics ostensibly 148  unrelated to naked economic exchange. However, all fields remain concerned with distributions of capital and power. Knowledge of the rules (e.g., properly internalising and playing by a fields’ rules), and mastering the required skills for achieving the field’s goals, are a form of symbolic capital that give possessors the power to play the game, and reveal themselves in that field’s space of appearances. This is problematic when economic capital is converted into symbolic capital to transform overt oppression and domination into misrecognised, or “socially recognized” oppression and domination (Bourdieu 1977, 16:192). Societal differentiation into social identities and fields has consequences for distributing and maintaining shared intentions inscribed in social systems, particularly, for distributing and maintaining power relations. Government apparatuses within social systems can be created as an “organized remembrance” (Arendt 2013, 198) or “containers” (Giddens 1984, 261), to coordinate social systems’ features, and to store shared intentionality and power relations. Using government apparatuses to store and direct shared intentionality and power relations within social systems is normatively and functionally good when government apparatuses create or preserve symmetrical empowerments that promote all social group members’ capacities to participate in self-development, and all social group members’ capacities to determine their actions and the conditions of their actions (participate in self- and collective-rule).  But using government apparatuses to store and direct shared intentionality and power relations within social systems is normatively and functionally bad when government apparatuses create or preserve asymmetrical empowerments that promote only certain social group members’ capacity for self-development and self- and collective-rule, but block other social group members’ capacities for self-development and self- and collective-rule. Systems of governance that store and direct asymmetrical empowerments (for instance, polities that rely on 149  slave labour) are obviously problematic because disempowered group members in these societies experience harms of oppression and domination. But furthermore, they are problematic because empowered social group members are motivated to forcibly co-opt new agents into participating in the shared intentionality inscribed in their social systems, to expand and give permanence to their social space and to their relative power.  The Greek colonial motto was: “Everywhere you go, you shall be a polis” (Arendt 2013, 198). The Greeks colonists embodied polis – the language games and institutions, social identities and fields, habitus, and power relations symbolically consecrated in law – and brought it everywhere they went. Expanding their shared intentionality meant going more places, co-opting more participants into the polis. According to Arendt, this expression was “not merely the watchword of Greek colonialization,” but the conviction that the symbolically consecrated space of speech and action “can find its proper location almost any time and anywhere” (Arendt 2013, 198). This benefitted the Greek colonists because they could expand their shared intentionality and protect and expand their position of dominance in asymmetric power relations, but it undermined the democratic aims of universal self-development and self- and collective-rule by subjecting colonised peoples to harms of oppression and domination. Conditions of inequality enable empowered social group members to forcibly try and harmonise agents’ experiences, to impose their vision of social space and enforce the self-evidences of empowered social group members’ orthodoxy, by forcin