This has changed. Today, many citizens of liberal democracies highlight what they see as weaknesses — or even perversities — of the system, especially its excessive tolerance of differences. This, they argue, has led to cancel culture and the “silencing of the oppressed majority”. In other words, citizens appear dissatisfied not only with the practices of liberal democracy, but also with the need to accept its very foundation — what Rawls, in Political Liberalism, called “the fact of reasonable pluralism”John Rawls, Political Liberalism: Expanded Edition (Columbia University 2005) 47–66.¹⁾. Rawls’s goal was to propose a model of political community where individuals, despite holding different conceptions of the good life, could live together peacefully while respecting the freedom and equality of all. Although this model has never been fully realized, liberal democracies have at least sought to embody its basic principles. Whether this still holds true — at least in the world’s oldest modern democracy — I am no longer certain.

Does the criticism of pluralism, as an inevitable condition of life in a society of free and equal citizens, mean we should discard it as a foundation of our political order? Should we instead strive for unitary and homogeneous societies, where those who do not fit in are denied full membership? This cannot be the right response. Although I have also been critical of the realities of liberal democracy (Rawls’s political liberalism at the theoretical level) in my own work, I continue to believe that we should pursue its improvement rather than its abandonment. At the end of the day, much of the dissatisfaction with liberal democracy, I suspect, stems from the experience of being overlooked, misrecognized, and disrespected — whether by minority groups or the majority itself — while respect is precisely the principle that ought to be attained.

In my book, I argue that Rawls’s conception of a political community is not sufficiently sensitive to the fact of pluralism. While it focuses on attaining respect at the so-called essentially political level, it overlooks injustice, misrecognition, and thus disrespect at the societal level — an equally formative part of a liberal political community.Sylvie Bláhová, Pluralism and Diversity: For the Sake of Equal Respect (Palagrave Macmillan 2024) 1–7, 50–58.²⁾ I subsequently discuss how to broaden the conception of respect within political liberalism while avoiding the trap of comprehensiveness. Specifically, I turn to the criterion of reciprocity, which I suggest should be interpreted in a dual way: as a combination of Rawlsian third-person respect and the idea of civic friendship. My claim is that the civic-friendship interpretation renders respect second-personal, enabling it to encompass not only the political sphere but also the societal sphere.Ibid. 63–83.³⁾ In other words, a genuine commitment to the political community entails seeing one’s fellow citizens in a second-personal way, recognizing them in their particularities. By considering structural injustices at the societal level, I argue that the conception of a political community I develop in my book better reflects the fact of pluralism than Rawls’s project does.

In the final chapter, I develop the concept of political emotions as a means of strengthening relationships within a political community. Emotions can not only encourage the action of those who are misrecognized and disrespected (as in the classic example of Rosa Parks) but also transform the attitudes of those who misrecognize and disrespect.Ibid. 121.⁴⁾ I argue that the aim of a political community should be to cultivate positive emotions while minimizing negative ones, since the prevailing emotional climate ultimately depends on the principle of respect. In other words, my assumption is that if people feel respected — and extend respect to others — negative emotions will lose their force, leaving space for the growth of positive emotions. At the same time, I acknowledge that negative emotions can play an important role in the struggle against injustice. Anger, for example, was likely the driving force behind Rosa Parks’s act of resistance, and as Srinivasan has argued, such emotions can be morally productive.Amia Srinivasan, ‘The Aptness of Anger’ (2018) 26 (2) Journal of Political Philosophy 123–144. ⁵⁾ Still, their role should be instrumental: once justice and respect are secured, the political community should focus on cultivating positive emotions as the basis for common life.

In her response to my book, Maria Paola Ferretti elaborates on the role of emotions in a liberal political community, arguing that it is too idealistic to focus primarily on enhancing positive emotions while suppressing negative ones.Maria Paola Ferretti, ‘Public Reasoning and the Role of Civic Empathy’ (2025) 2 Ratio Publica.⁶⁾ She draws on the work of Michael Hannon, who claims that we should strive for empathetic understanding (including emotions) in public life.Michael Hannon, ‘Empathetic Understanding and Deliberative Democracy’ (2019) 101 (3) Philosophy and Phenomenological Research 591–611.⁷⁾ Hannon introduces the concept of verstehen as an attempt “to grasp the meaning of another’s perspective from within, to imaginatively enter into their point of view without necessarily endorsing it”Ferretti (n 6).⁸⁾. The aim, then, is “mutual recognition through empathetic understanding”Ibid.⁹⁾. Ferretti further argues that verstehen addresses the risk of polarization and enables us to understand why our fellow citizens feel the way they do. She also points out that “not all political interactions must aim at agreement, nor should public dialogues necessarily be directed toward eliminating negative emotions”Ibid.¹⁰⁾.

Admittedly, some time has passed since I first structured my argument on the role of emotions in a liberal political community. My original intention was that incorporating emotions into my argumentation would help indicate the possible future direction of my work. Since completing my book, however, I have studied the concept of (political) emotions in much greater depth and have, in fact, shifted my main focus toward them. As a result, my own position has evolved to some extent — perhaps even quite significantly. That said, I still believe, as Martha Nussbaum does, that positive emotions are essential for sustaining a viable political community and for building civic friendship, and that negative emotions, when not aimed at redressing injustice and achieving justice, may be disruptive.Martha C. Nussbaum, The Monarchy of Fear: A Philosopher Looks at Our Political Crisis (Oxford University Press 2019) 63–135.¹¹⁾ On the other hand, I agree with Ferretti that in public deliberation negative emotions cannot simply be avoided or ignored. More specifically, we cannot deny that negative emotions often ground the reasons citizens present in public deliberation.Ferretti, in this context, points to a number of studies on affective polarization showing that citizens are not simply rational and reasonable agents — as Rawls assumes in his appeal to idealization — but that their reasoning in the public sphere is deeply shaped by feelings and personal attachments. This may, in the end, lead not to an attempt to achieve a common (reasonable) consensus, but rather to the phenomenon of motivated reasoning. –– Jonathan Haidt, ‘The Emotional Dog and Its Rational Tail: A Social Intuitionist Approach to Moral Judgment’ (2001) 108 (4) Psychological Review 814–834.¹²⁾ In general, I am also very sympathetic to Hannon’s (and Ferretti’s) suggestion that allowing emotions into public deliberation can enhance mutual understanding. Nevertheless, I fear that even this position remains overly idealistic in the end.

Common understanding is undoubtedly important for any kind of relationship. In fact, I believe that we almost always want to understand the motivations behind the actions of someone we care about, especially when those actions differ from our own. Still, it seems to me that even understanding has limits, and there are situations in which we should not even attempt to grasp the perspective of the other. Imagine, for instance, a person who supports racially segregated schools and wants this to be enshrined in law. Applied to the Czech context, imagine that this person simply hates Roma people. He claims they are too loud and pervasive, and he considers them lazy, dangerous, and generally inferior. Perhaps he even had a negative personal experience: let’s say that three Roma individuals once stole from his car. As a result, he is angry at the entire Roma community and adamant that his children should not attend the same schools as Roma children. The emotions underlying his position are anger and disgust.

Should we try to understand the reasons he has for supporting such a law? Should we attempt to understand why he feels the way he does? After all, he does have his own personal experience with three Roma individuals — does this legitimize his standpoint? What would be the result of such an understanding? Would it look like this: “This man is angry at the entire Roma community because three Roma people stole from his car; that is why he wants his children to have nothing to do with them”? And would recognizing his reasons for supporting such a law make them legitimate — and, if shared by others, render the law itself legitimate? Is not an inevitable consequence of such an attempt at understanding a kind of relativization? Aren’t there situations in which we are morally obliged not even to try to understand, because the reasons themselves are simply wrong?This argument resembles debates about determinism. A typical question here is whether we should examine the motivations of murderers and their life stories in general — that is, what led them to commit murder. Czech society engaged in such a debate quite recently, following the mass shooting at Charles University at the end of 2023, in which 14 people were killed. ¹³⁾ Does having one’s car stolen justify anger? Certainly. Does the fact that the perpetrators were Roma justify support for segregated schools? Certainly not. Furthermore, if we call for mutual understanding, then we must also expect it from those who advocate segregation. What if the reason three Roma people stole from the car was that they had no money due to inadequate education, itself the result of structurally segregated schools?By a structurally segregated school, I mean a school where segregation arises as a result of structural injustice. In other words, even though there is no law mandating segregation, structural discrimination leads to schools being divided along racial lines. ¹⁴⁾

Due to the limits of understanding the reasons that substantiate our claims in public deliberation, I call for a more procedural approach to conceiving of emotions in that context. As I have argued, I consider emotions to be a legitimate source of reasons we may invoke to support — or refuse to support — a given law. I agree with Maria Paola Ferretti’s point that the Rawlsian (and Habermasian) idealized conception of public reason “overlooks the psychological and emotional processes that shape how reasons are heard, interpreted, or dismissed”Ferretti (n 6).¹⁵⁾. The challenge with emotions, however, is that they constitute a highly complex phenomenon, subject to a wide range of competing theoretical conceptions. Hence, before presenting my own account of emotions within public reason, I will briefly outline the theoretical background on which I rely.

From a philosophical perspective, Michael Brady distinguishes three main branches of theories of emotion.Michael S. Brady, Emotions: The Basics (Routledge 2019) 10–30; Michael S. Brady, ‘An Overview of Contemporary Theories of Emotions in Philosophy’ in Andrea Scarantino (ed), Emotion Theory: The Routledge Comprehensive Guide (Vol. I., Routledge 2024) 215–229.¹⁶⁾ First, the feeling theory –– especially in its classical James–Lange formulation — equates emotions with the perception of bodily changes. This theory, however, faces strong challenges: emotions can occur even without bodily reactions; conversely, bodily reactions can occur (for instance, when induced by drugs) without emotions; similar physiological patterns can accompany different emotions, undermining the claim that bodily responses alone define emotional states; and finally, the theory fails to explain the intentionality of emotions.Walter B. Cannon, ‘The James–Lange Theory of Emotions: A Critical Examination and an Alternative Theory’ (1927) 39 (1/4) The American Journal of Psychology 106–124; Stanley Schachter and Jerome E. Singer, ‘Cognitive, Social, and Physiological Determinants of Emotional State’ (1962) 69 (5) Psychological Review 379–399; Paul Ekman, Emotions Revealed: Recognizing Faces and Feelings to Improve Communication and Emotional Life (Times Books 2003) 38–81.¹⁷⁾ The cognitive theory of emotions addresses the problem of intentionality, rejecting the view that feelings are the defining characteristic of emotions –– bodily feelings may accompany emotions, but they do not constitute them. Robert Solomon, for example, argues that emotions are rational judgments that enable us to make sense of the world.Robert C. Solomon, The Passions: Emotions and the Meaning of Life (Anchor Press and Doubleday 1976) 151–155, 186–197.¹⁸⁾ Martha Nussbaum similarly describes emotions as rational judgments about what has value for us.Martha C. Nussbaum, Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions (Cambridge University Press 2001) 22–44.¹⁹⁾ Finally, the perceptual theory occupies a middle ground, suggesting that emotions are similar to sensory perceptions and can reveal evaluative features of the world without requiring reflective judgment. This framework explains why emotions can conflict with beliefs — for example, why our cognitive interpretation may differ from what we perceive.Christine Tappolet, Emotions, Values, and Agency (Oxford University Press 2016) 18.²⁰⁾

While I am sympathetic to the cognitive theory of emotions, I do not think we can regard feelings as unimportant — or even as secondary.I further elaborate on this argument in my article on the role of emotions in the public justification process, which is currently under review at Emotion Review.²¹⁾ This becomes especially clear in the case of so-called recalcitrant emotions, such as those we experience in phobias. I may fully understand that small spiders are harmless (and even useful) yet still experience a strong physical reaction whenever I see one, often running away as a result. The cognitive theory would interpret this as a conflict of judgments—arguing that with better deliberation, I would uncover the reason for my fear. Yet this response neglects the fact that even unreasoned feelings can motivate action. Peter Goldie addresses the problem of recalcitrant emotions, arguing that feelings are not merely side-effects of judgments.Peter Goldie, The Emotions: A Philosophical Exploration (Oxford University Press 2000) 50–83.²²⁾ Instead, he claims that feelings (he calls it feelings toward) are phenomenological experiences and an inextricable part of emotional intentionality. In other words, there is no need to uncover a hidden belief behind the feeling (for example, asking why I am so afraid of spiders), since in the given moment the feeling already makes sense as part of my personal narrative, which must be understood in its full complexity.Ibid. 84–95.²³⁾ For Goldie, what is essential is that within this narrative context both judgments and feelings can motivate action.Ibid. 5–6, 12–13. ²⁴⁾ I believe that Goldie convincingly shows that both feelings and judgments are essential to emotion, and that either may serve as a source of motivation, depending on context.Ibid. 12–13.²⁵⁾ His key insight is that we can only understand what motivates us — whether it is judgments or feelings toward — against the background of our narrative identity. This approach places emphasis on the first-person perspective, grounded in each individual’s moral psychology and personal history.

Following Goldie, I believe that both judgments and feelings can shape our reasons during public deliberation. For example, we may think that a proposed law eliminating support for refugees is wrong because it contradicts the deep value of solidarity we hold — and that is why we feel compassion for refugees. At the same time, however, we may also feel fear which — although we cannot explain it at the cognitive level — may still affect our final standpoint on the law. Which reasons ultimately prevail depends on our personal narrative. This, in my view, not only better reflects the character of real agents but also, importantly, is more sensitive to the fact of pluralism. One might object, however, that by allowing more sources of reasons, agreement will become impossible. This is a valid concern, and indeed one of the main reasons why the majority of public reason theorists resort to idealization. Moreover, feelings are often more subjective and unpredictable than judgments. Still, I do not think this presents an insurmountable obstacle: to acknowledge both judgments and feelings as potential sources of reasons does not mean that all such reasons are equally legitimate.

I believe that the public justification principle (PJP) itself provides a standard for distinguishing between justified and unjustified reasons, whether they are based on judgments or on feelings. A typical example used to defend idealization is the case of killers or rapists.Jonathan Quong, ‘Public Reason’, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Fall edn, 2022) <https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/public-reason/> accessed 15 September 2025; Rawls (n 1) 47–87; Gerald Gaus, The Order of Public Reason: A Theory of Freedom and Morality in a Diverse and Bounded World (Cambridge University Press 2011) 250–276; Gerald Gaus, ‘On Theorizing About Public Reason’ (2013) 9 (1) European Journal of Analytic Philosophy 64–85. ²⁶⁾ The objection is that without limits on admissible reasons in public deliberation, we might find ourselves needing the agreement of killers or rapists to establish laws against murder or rape. This example is tricky as such laws do not, in fact, impose coercive authority on anyone unless they choose to violate them; technically, then, they do not infringe liberty. More importantly, however, killers and rapists, by their actions, transgress the PJP itself: in killing or raping, they impose an unjustified authority claim on their victims, which cannot be publicly justified to those individuals. This conclusion holds regardless of whether their reasons for murder or rape are grounded in judgments or in feelings. As a result, expanding the sources of reasons in public deliberation does not inevitably lead to the impossibility of agreement. Those who violate the basic presumptions of the PJP exclude themselves from the framework of the deliberative community.

Admittedly, the model of public deliberation I am picturing is “detached” in the sense that it does not focus primarily on achieving a common understanding of the reasons people hold. Rather, it allows emotions into public deliberation without evaluating them, while at the same time setting a clear limit in the form of the PJP. In this way, I partly agree with Ferretti that an active attempt to eliminate negative emotions might be counterproductive. At the same time, however, I still think that the PJP and its justificatory roots, as I described in the book, naturally work in favor of positive emotions. Specifically, I argued that the justification of the PJP rests on the criterion of reciprocity, which should be given a dual interpretation: people abide by the PJP both out of respect and out of civic friendship. Civic friendship enriches the idea of respect by giving it a second-personal form, implying that in justifying political authority we do not see merely abstract human beings but our fellow citizens with whom we together constitute something valuable.

The concept of second-personal respect comes from Darwall, who based his theory on Strawson’s account of reactive attitudes framing relationships of mutual authority and accountability. When someone violates a common norm (such as the PJP in my case), it constitutes a form of disrespect, and I am entitled to experience reactive attitudes. Darwall calls these deontic (or attitudes of the will), since they are grounded in the duties and responsibilities we have toward one another.Stephen Darwall, The Heart and Its Attitudes (Oxford University Press 2024) 31–48.²⁷⁾ In his more recent work, however, Darwall argues that there are not only deontic attitudes but also non-deontic attitudes (attitudes of the heart), which concern spheres of life not covered by duties and responsibilities.Ibid.²⁸⁾ Typical non-deontic attitudes include love, gratitude, and trust. Although there is no duty to love or trust someone, these attitudes are nevertheless an essential part of interpersonal life. Darwall maintains that both deontic and non-deonticattitudes are reciprocal and ideally work in cooperation. I agree with him to a large extent. Still, I believe that the principle of respect grounded in civic friendship (and vice versa) is essential for the flourishing of non-deontic attitudes. Together, they create a structure in which emotions such as love, gratitude, and trust are sustained and reciprocated. In other words, it is in a society where people are respected — including their particularities — and where they value their shared membership in the community that positive emotions such as love and trust may thrive. At the same time, love and trust retrospectively deepen respect and civic friendship.

We can, of course, further explore how emotions such as love and trust might be cultivated through practical means like symbols, literature, or festivals.Martha C. Nussbaum, Political Emotions: Why Love Matters for Justice (Harvard University Press 2013) 200–397.²⁹⁾ This, however, belongs to another level of discussion and lies beyond the scope of my present argument. For now, it is enough to emphasize that, given the current political situation — and returning to the point I raised at the beginning — one of the most effective strategies against today’s assaults on liberal democracy is to foster positive emotions as a basis for a healthy and stable political community. In other words, we should not try to counter the anger and fear dominating politics with logical arguments alone; rather, we must also build common trust and, potentially, even love. Still, such a project must rest on firm principles — principles that I hope to have at least partly outlined in this text, as well as in my book.