TOWARD A DISCOURSE ETHIC OF SOLIDARITY

Nancy Fraser

I approach Seyla Benhabib’s paper as someone with a longstanding interest

in Habermas and in the possible implications of a “discourse ethic” for the
collective, political struggles of social movements, including but not limited to
the feminist movement. Let me introduce my comments by explaining very
generally how I understand these implications.
Suppose it were the case that dominant groups within society — here I
include class and race dominance as well as gender dominance — had a
privileged relation to what I shall call “the socio-cultural means of
interpretation and communication.” By socio-cultural means of interpretation
and communication I mean things like: the officially recognized vocabularies
in which one can press claims; the idioms available for interpreting and
communicating one’s needs; the established narrative conventions available
for constructing the individual and collective histories which are constitutive
of social identity; the paradigms of argumentation accepted as authoritative
in adjudicating conflicting claims; the ways in which various discourses
constitute their respective subject matters as specific sorts of objects; the
repertory of available rhetorical devices; the bodily and gestural dimensions of
speech which are associated in a given society with authority and conviction.
Suppose it were the case that by and large such socio-cultural means of
interpretation and communication expressed the point of view of dominant
groups in society. Suppose that they were especially well-suited for giving
voice to the experience, claims, interests and self-interpretations of members
of such groups. Thus, for example, Nancy Hartsock, Virginia Held, Dorothy
Smith, Sandra Harding and Seyla Benhabib have argued that the dominant
moral and political vocabularies we have inherited articulate what Hartsock
calls “the standpoint of exchange.” That is, these vocabularies generally
constitute people as rational, self-interested monads who transact with one
another in transient, utility-maximizing encounters. It seems plausible that
this standpoint reflects the experience and point of view of white European or
European-descended male bourgeois property owners. A moral or political
vocabulary which articulates this standpoint would hardly be able to give easy
voice to experiences and relationships involving ongoing dependency, such as
mother-child relations in the modern restricted nuclear family. Nor would it
work well for experiences and forms of connectedness in more extended
networks of community and solidarity, such as in subcultures of subordinated
racial and ethnic groups. Thus, in sexist, racist and class societies, women,
persons of color, the poor and other dominated persons would have a
disadvantaged position with respect to the socio-cultural means of interpret-
ation and communication. They would be structurally hindered from

Praxis International 5:4 January 1986 0260-8448 $ 2.00

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participating on a par with members of dominant groups in processes of

communicative interaction. Unless they were to contest this situation and
organize to win a greater measure of collective control over the means of
interpretation and communication, it would appear that members of
subordinated groups would have only two options: they could either adopt the
dominant point of view and see their own experiences repressed and distorted;
or they could develop idiolects capable of voicing their experience and see
these marginalized, disqualified and excluded from the central discursive
institutions and arenas of society. Or they could do both at once.
As I see it, then, the potential advantage of a discourse or dialogical ethic
over what Benhabib has called a “universalist-formal” or monological ethic
consists in the fact that the former, but not the latter, can allow for the
situation I have been describing. That is, a discourse ethic could take into
account that dominant and subordinated groups stand in different and
unequal relations to the means of interpretation and communication. It could
do this by maintaining a kind of suspicion or distance from any given
vocabulary for interpreting needs, defining situations and pressing claims. It
could keep open the possibility that it could come to pass that biases might
become apparent in even what have been thought to be relatively neutral
forms of discourse; that such forms could themselves become stakes in
political deliberation; that subordinated groups could contest such forms and
propose alternatives, and thereby gain a greater measure of collective control
over the means of interpretation and communication. This, I take it, is the
political point of Benhabib’s arguments for the superiority of a discourse ethic
over Rawls and Kohlberg. The former allows for the possibility that social
divisions may run so deep as to permeate even the means of discourse
themselves. Thus, a discourse ethic permits the thematization and critique of
interpretations of needs, of definitions of situations and of the social
conditions of dialogue, instead of establishing a privileged model of moral
deliberation which effectively shields such matters from scrutiny.
Given this general perspective of sympathy with the project of a discourse
or dialogical ethic, I find Benhabib’s attempt to connect it to Carol Gilligan’s
work extremely important and interesting. I am especially intrigued by
Benhabib’s attempt to appropriate arguments for it for a justification of
Gilligan’s model of postconventional contextual moral reasoning and a new
nonrepressive concept of moral and ego autonomy. On the other hand, I
either have not understood or am not fully persuaded by the precise way in
which Benhabib makes these connections.
As I understand her, Benhabib argues that in order to meet its own criteria
of universalizability and reversibility, “universalist-formal moral theory”
must abandon the monological model of moral deliberation in favor of a
dialogical model. Moreover, it must also abandon the standpoint of the
generalized other in favor of the standpoint of the concrete other. Thus, the
discourse ethic is seen as the “truth” (in Hegel’s sense) of universalist-formal
moral theory. That is, it fulfills the latter’s aims and resolves the latter’s
paradoxes and aporias. I presume that this entails that a discourse ethic can
and should replace the latter; that it can and should handle the questions
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concerning political, collective institutions which Rawls handles, as well as the

questions which Benhabib claims he does not. On the other hand, Benhabib’s
account of the content of the standpoint of the concrete other — as opposed to
her account of its dialogical form — is presented in terms drawn largely from
intimate relationships, and thus does not on the surface seem adequate for
political contexts in which relationships are not intimate. So I am not clear
how she gets from her arguments for the discourse-dialogical model of moral
deliberation to a defense of the standpoint of the concrete other in the precise
form in which she elaborates it, namely, as an ethic of care.
As I read her, the connecting link is the concept of the “relational-
interactive model of identity.” I want to look briefly at that concept and to
sketch an alternative account of the content of the standpoint of the concrete
other and an alternative concept of autonomy. I shall claim that these
alternatives may be more useful in thinking about a feminist political ethic
than the ones Benhabib has proposed.
Benhabib presents what she calls a relational-interactive model of identity. I
do not mean to refer here to an empirical experience of oneself as connected in
a web of relationships or as having permeable ego boundaries. I mean rather a
general theoretical account of the concept of identity which applies to both
sexes. Benhabib endorses a concept of identity in which one’s emotional
constitution, needs, motivations and desires are not simply private, inner and
individual; but are rather intertwined with the history and culture of the
collectivity in relation to which one individuates. For example, one’s needs are
interpreted in light of the available vocabularies elaborated within the
collectivity. Similarly, the self is not a thing or substrate, but rather the
protagonist of a life-story which must be constructed from the culturally
specific narrative resources available within the collectivity. What strikes me
as very important and right about this view is the careful tension and balance
it maintains between individual and collective identity.
Now I want to suggest that in elaborating the ethical and interactive content
(as opposed to the dialogical form) of the standpoint of the concrete other,
there are two possibilities. One of these focalizes the dimension of
individuality in the relational theory of identity, while the other focalizes the
dimension of collectivity. As I read it, Benhabib’s account of the ethical and
interactive content of the standpoint of the concrete other focalizes the
dimension of individuality. Thus, she emphasizes that in adopting this
standpoint one attends to the specificity of a unique individual, with a unique
affective-emotional constitution and life history. Similarly, she stresses that
the moral demand which arises when one adopts this standpoint is the demand
for confirmation of one’s individuality. Likewise, she stresses that the norms
and feelings which govern interactions undertaken from this standpoint are
those of love, care and friendship, and she designates these as (usually)
private, noninstitutional norms and feelings. From now on, I am going to call
this elaboration of the content of the standpoint of the concrete other “the
standpoint of the individualized concrete other.”
I want to contrast the standpoint of the individualized concrete other with
another possibility which focalizes the collective dimension of the relational
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concept of identity. I shall call this version “the standpoint of the collective
concrete other.” Here the stress is on the specificity of a collectivity: on the
specificity of the vocabularies available to individuals and groups for the
interpretation of their needs and for the definitions of situations in which they
encounter one another. The stress is on the cultural specificity of the narrative
resources available to individuals and groups for the construction of individual
life-stories or group identities and solidarities. I hope it is clear that the stress
on shared cultural vocabularies and narrative forms (as opposed to individual
uniqueness) is not a return to the standpoint of the generalized other. There is
no question here of orientation to some putative universal, atemporal,
aspatial, acultural humanity. There is no bracketing of specificity, nor any
exclusion of needs, motivations and desires. There is no projection of one’s
own perspective onto the place where another should be. There is dialogic
interaction with actual others, although these are encountered less as unique
individuals than as members of groups or collectivities with culturally specific
identities, solidarities and forms of life. In short, the standpoint of the
collective concrete other is contextual and hermeneutical, not “formal-
universalist.” It is flexible and nonrepressive with respect to emotions. And it
acknowledges connectedness to specific human groups, though these are not
restricted to intimate ones comprising family, lovers and friends.
If the elaboration of the standpoint of the individual concrete other
eventuates in an ethic of care and responsibility, then perhaps the elaboration
of the standpoint of the collective concrete other leads to an ethic of solidarity.
As I envision it, this standpoint would require one to relate to people as
members of collectivities or social groups with specific cultures, histories,
social practices, values, habits, forms of life, vocabularies of self-
interpretation and narrative traditions. Here one would abstract both from
unique individuality and from universal humanity to focalize the intermediate
zone of group identity. The most general ethical force of this orientation
would be something like this: we owe each other behavior such that each is
confirmed as a being with specific collective identifications and solidarities.
The norms governing these interactions would be neither norms of intimacy
such as love and care, nor those of formal institutions such as rights and
entitlements. Rather they would be norms of collective solidarities as
expressed in shared but non-universal social practices. The privileged moral
feeling would be neither dignity nor love, but social solidarity. Finally, and
most important, to be autonomous here would mean to be a member of a
group or groups which have achieved a degree of collective control over the
means of interpretation and communication sufficient to enable one to
participate on a par with members of other groups in moral and political
deliberation; that is, to speak and be heard, to tell one’s own life-story, to
press one’s claims and point of view in one’s own voice.
I claim that such an ethic of solidarity is superior to an ethic of care as a
political ethic. It is the sort of ethic which is attuned to the contestatory
activities of social movements struggling to forge narrative resources and
vocabularies adequate to the expression of their self-interpreted needs. It is
attuned also to collective struggles to deconstruct narrative forms and
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vocabularies of dominant groups and collectivities so as to show these are

partial rather than genuinely shared and are incapable of giving voice to the
needs and hopes of subordinated groups. In short, an ethic of solidarity
elaborated from the standpoint of the collective concrete other is more
appropriate than an ethic of care for a feminist ethic, if we think of a feminist
ethic as the ethic of a social and political movement.
But here I do not see how I can avoid the conclusion that it is just as
appropriate as a political ethic for movements of lesbians, gays, blacks,
hispanics, other peoples of color and subordinated classes. In fact, it seems to
me that when one develops the standpoint of the concrete other in this more
collective dimension, as I believe one should, then the sense that it is tied
specifically to women becomes attenuated. Or rather, women’s specificity
enters at a different level. It enters at the level of the concrete forms of
solidarity among women which may develop if we are successful in building a
movement inclusive of women of many different cultural, ethnic and class
identities, a movement which, through dialogue and collective struggle, forges
new vocabularies and narrative forms capable of giving voice to many
different kinds of women. I think we need frankly to admit that such a
specifically women’s solidarity exists only in the most incipient, let us say
prefigurative, form today. And its further and full flowering is by no means
assured. It is a specific solidarity which must be achieved politically, not one
that is simply given. In a society as complex as ours, it does not seem to me
wise or even possible to extrapolate the specific content of such a solidarity
from the current, prepoliticized experiences and idiolects of women,
especially since it is likely, in my view, that these will turn out to be the
current prepoliticized experiences and idiolects only of some women.*

* This work was supported by a much appreciated fellowship from The Stanford Humanities Center.

See also: Solidarity, by Andy Blunden

Redigitized 2004 by Central and Eastern European Online Library C.E.E.O.L.

( www.ceeol.com )