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Why Normative Behaviourism Does Not Improve Political Realism
Eva Erman & Niklas Möller
Forthcoming in Res Publica
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According to normative behaviourism, political theorists should ground their principles
in behaviour rather than in thoughts as is done in mainstream political theory. Focusing
on ‘real actions’ of ‘real people’, normative behaviourism turns facts about observable
patterns of behaviour into grounds for specific normative political principles. For this
reason, this way of doing normative political theory has strong realist credentials, given
its methods, values and ambitions. In fact, Jonathan Floyd argues that it is an
improvement of political realism since it solves two problems that allegedly face many
realists, namely, the legitimacy problem, i.e., how we should distinguish genuine
acceptance of a political system from false acceptance, and the institutional problem, i.e.,
how we should translate political principles into viable political institutions.
In this paper, we make two claims. First, normative behaviourism does not solve
the legitimacy problem encountered by realists, because its solution rest on a flawed
distinction between foundational principles and ‘principles that matter’, together with a
problematic use of a Humean internal reasons approach. Second, normative
behaviourism does not solve the institutional problem encountered by realists, because
its solution is in fact much more unfeasible than realist prescriptions, since feasibility is
interpreted as mere possibility. We wind up our analysis by showing that normative
behaviourism encounters new problems that realist approaches typically do not face.
First, normative behaviourism is a kind of closet utilitarianism, but with a more
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problematic value measure, which rests on universal principles of the kind that realists
usually reject. Second, by arguing for democracy and equality, normative behaviourism
runs the risk of coming too demanding and unattractive for realists, who carefully
separate democracy from political legitimacy, both conceptually and normatively, and
argue that the latter does not require the former. We conclude that despite several
aspects superficially attractive to the realist project, normative behaviourism fails in its
attempt to supply an improved version of realism.
The paper is structured as follows. In the first section, we explain the main
features of normative behaviourism and what makes it a member of the ‘realist family’,
according to its proponents (I). The second section refutes normative behaviourism’s
alleged solution to the legitimacy problem (II), while the third section does the same with
regard to the institutional problem (III). In the fourth section, we wind up by bringing up
two new problems that normative behaviourism encounters, that typically do not emerge
for realists (IV).
I. Normative behaviourism as a member of the realist family
The methodological pivot that sets normative behaviourism apart from mainstream
political theory, according to its proponents, is its focus on manifested political
preferences, defined as the normative preferences exposed through particular patterns
of behaviour, rather than the conventional ‘mainstream’ method of identifying normative
preferences exposed through particular patterns of thought, such as intuitions, value
commitments, principles or considered judgements, which are relied upon to justify
normative theories (Floyd 2017: 168). Floyd specifically contends that two behavioural
patterns serve as distinguishing markers between a good (legitimate) and a bad
(illegitimate) political system: the prevalence of insurrection and crime in a society. He
posits that participation in insurrection and crime, given its inherent high personal risk,
is a course of action people generally choose only when they find their existing life
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intolerable (Floyd 2017: 168–169). Consequently, political systems causing fewer
instances of such behaviour are more defensible than those leading to more, and
certainly, the system resulting in the minimum of such behaviour is, without doubt, more
justifiable than any other (Floyd 2017: 169).
Due to its reliance on patterns of thoughts, mainstream political theory is destined
to fail, according to Floyd, because reasonable people diverge on the fundamentals of
political normativity (Floyd 2017: 121). By contrast, normative behaviourism’s reliance
on patterns of behaviour is more promising, since they converge and are stable over time.
By examining our reactions to changes in our political surroundings, we can discern
which systems we are less inclined towards, which ones we favour more, and perhaps
even identify the one that suits us most effectively. From this, we may conclude that there
exists at least one method to justify political principles, namely, the principles embodied
by the most fitting system, that is, the system with least insurrection and crime (Floyd
2017: 167).
Normative behaviourism shares many features with realism and is therefore
described as a member of the ‘realist family’. The starting-point for both approaches is
the idea that we can learn about what we ought to do now and in the future by looking at
the past, such as what political systems have had the least amount of insurrection and
crime (normative behaviourism) and what has historically and over time been the main
stabilizing features of politics (realism). Both approaches start out from the idea that
political theories should ground their political principles in ‘real actions’ of ‘real people’,
thereby justifying principles with actions, rather than ground their political principles in
‘hypothetical actions’ of ‘imaginary people’, justifying actions with principles, as in
mainstream political theory (Floyd 2022: 2). Hence, normative behaviourism shares
Geuss’ famous realist point of departure, according to which political theory must start
from and be concerned with the way the political, economic, and social institutions
actually operate in a society at a given time, rather than with how people ideally or
rationally ought to be or act (Geuss 2008). In a similar fashion, it “begins with what
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actually motivates people in the real world, and then asks, empirically speaking, just
which set of principles, in practice, best caters to them” (Floyd 2022: 6; Galston 2010,
2017).
Furthermore, normative behaviourism is committed to a focus on ‘realist’ values,
most notably the values of order, stability and legitimacy. Both approaches understand
politics at the general level as unchangeable, characterized by contestation, deep
disagreement and a struggle for power and therefore regard the goal of politics as order
and stability, but that this must take a legitimate form (Floyd 2022; Sleat 2018; Hall
2017). For normative behaviourism, this goal is achieved by identifying those principles
that in practice produces least discontent in society. This entails that focus is directed at
“whatever principles are perceived as most legitimate by those who have to live with
them” (Floyd 2022: 7).
Finally, normative behaviourism shares with realism the ambition of offering clear
political prescriptions (Jubb 2019; Sleat 2018). Since it aspires to understand people as
they are, rather than as they ought to be, it moves from behaviour to institutions and then
to principles; in other words, from ‘is’ to ‘ought’ rather than from ‘ought’ to ‘is’. For this
reason, Floyd argues, normative behaviourism never ends up with principles that are not
action-guiding, which is a problem facing mainstream political theory, asking how ideal
principles may be applied to concrete practices (Floyd 2022: 8).
Despite these overlapping commitments, Floyd insists that normative
behaviourism advances realism since it is equipped to solve several problems facing
realism. In this paper, we focus on two of these problems: the legitimacy problem and the
institutional problem.
II. Rebuttal of the solution to the legitimacy problem
In a nutshell, the legitimacy problem concerns how we should distinguish legitimate
acceptance of a political system from acceptance based on false consciousness or
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coercion. When responding to this problem, it is important to avoid the problems
encountered both by the ideal route taken by mainstream political theorists, which
typically advocate majoritarian democratic procedures, and the realist route, which
typically define as legitimate whatever is accepted as legitimate by the people in question
(Floyd 2020: 145). The ideal route has the problem of grounding such procedures since
reasonable people disagree even about fundamental values (Floyd 2017: 121). The realist
route has the problem of distinguishing authentic acceptance from acceptance based on
false consciousness or coercion (Floyd 2020: 145).
Normative behaviourism adopts the realist strategy of basing authentic legitimacy
on perceived legitimacy. Therefore, just as realism, it has to differentiate legitimate
acceptance from false or coerced acceptance. However, it does so, not by asking what the
majority would say about the suggested political principles, but by observing how people
behave under different systems in history. If more people turn to crime and insurrection
under a given regime than under alternative feasible regimes, that regime is illegitimate,
even if the majority at present perceive of it as legitimate. This is so because actions speak
louder than thoughts (Floyd 2020: 146): while realists start their normative investigation
with facts about politics, focusing on politics’ constitutive features, such as deep
disagreement, normative behaviourism only counts facts about certain behavioural
trends (with regard to crime and insurrection) when assessing governing political
principles and their relative legitimacy (Floyd 2020: 146).
This approach to the legitimacy problem encounters two problems for normative
behaviourism, according to Floyd. One problem is epistemic and concerns lack of access
to proper information in authoritarian states, whose leaders often hide statistics about
crime and insurrection. Another problem is scalar and concerns how many people would
have to turn to crime and insurrection before a set of principles of legitimacy should be
abandoned. To respond to the first problem, normative behaviourism adopts a
comparative approach in assessing these principles. The aim is to root for the political
system that produces the least amount of these two behaviours. To respond to the second
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problem, normative behaviourism adopts a long-term outlook and focuses on large
numbers of people (Floyd 2020: 146).
II.I. Facing a dilemma
Floyd’s responses to these two problems, however, reveal tensions within normative
behaviourism that, upon further investigation, presents a dilemma for the account: either
it faces an analogue problem of distinguishing authentic acceptance from acceptance
based on false consciousness or coercion as do political realism, or it solves it by adding
value premises, in effect becoming a target of his own attack on both idealism and realism.
A fundamental tactic for an account belonging to the realist family is, as Floyd puts
it, to ground authentic legitimacy on perceived legitimacy. The realist tactic, however,
struggles to distinguish authentic acceptance from acceptance based on either
coercion or false consciousness. This then encourages attempts to distinguish
between reasonable and unreasonable acceptance, and ultimately between what a
reasonable and an unreasonable person could accept, which means, in parallel with
the ideal response, that rather than rising above what appears to be intractable valueconflict, realists can fall right back into it (2020: 145).
Floyd’s strategy for avoiding this pitfall, as mentioned above, is to use as the condition on
authentic legitimacy, not what people say – or indeed, think – about a system of
government, but their actual behaviour. Floyd envisages cases where a majority of people
take their rule to be legitimate for all kinds of problematic reasons, such as ignorance of
alternative systems, or that they take their leader to have a divine right to power. On his
account, however, this would not entail that the rule is legitimate. “[I]f more people find
themselves turning to insurrection and crime under a given regime than under
alternative feasible regimes, then that regime is indicted, even if at present the majority
declares it legitimate” (2020: 145-46).
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Floyd thus argues that normative behaviourism is an improvement of realism
since although it is similarly grounded in actual politics – how things are rather than how
we wish them to be – it avoids turning to values in order to distinguish authentic
legitimacy from perceived legitimacy and thus becoming ‘closet-idealism’ or ‘closetmoralism’. In other words, since according to normative behaviourism, what people
(doxastically) take to be legitimate is clearly distinct from what is legitimate, the account
is not forced to take on the kind of value commitments that tempts realists when they
want to distinguish what is accepted from what is acceptable (that is, if they want a
normative account of legitimacy rather than merely a sociological one), for example, by
arguing that in order for a political order to be legitimate, the agreement (Horton 2010)
or willing consent (Bellamy 2010) must be perceived as free (Newey 2010), and cannot
rely on means that are too tyrannical (Horton), be coerced (Williams 2005) or be a result
of total deception (Horton 2010).
In one sense, looking at actual behaviour clearly solves the legitimacy problem
when people say or think one thing but do another. The overall success of Floyd’s
strategy, however, is a function of how the behavioural aspect is interpreted in more
detail. And on a closer look, it seems as if Floyd is facing a dilemma.
On the first horn of the dilemma, the condition for legitimacy is interpreted as a
function of people’s present behaviour. On this interpretation, you can ‘read off’ the
legitimacy of the system of rule in question directly by looking at its current level of
insurrection and crime. If that level is less than other feasible systems of government, it
is legitimate. Otherwise, it is not.
This ‘direct’ interpretation of the legitimacy condition for normative
behaviourism seems natural given Floyd’s ambition to go from ‘is to ought’, reading off
what is right from people’s actual behaviour (without sneaking in any value premises on
the way). It also fits best with the above quote that “more people find themselves turning
to insurrection and crime under a given regime”. However, this interpretation does not
avoid the traditional realist problem of distinguishing what is accepted from what is
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acceptable. For it is reasonable to assume that false consciousness or coercion may not
only have doxastic consequences, making us believe that the rule is legitimate, but also
affect our behaviour in various situations. By falsely believing that the ruler has divine
power, or at least is blessed by someone who has, we may refrain from rebelling in cases
where we would otherwise turn to insurrection and crime. Or (which is arguably even
worse), what if a power is simply too coercive to make rebellious action feasible, such
that even if we both believe that the power is illegitimate and definitely would act on that
belief by acts of insurrection and crime were the coercion less severe, we are now unable
to do so? Perhaps the punishment is simply too harsh, or the control too rigid for us to
succeed even if we tried?
It thus seems – on the first horn of the dilemma – as if the ‘direct’ reading of the
legitimacy condition in fact fares worse than basing legitimacy directly on what people
think is legitimate, since both cases where we act upon false consciousness and cases
where we would like to act but cannot, become legitimate. Assume, say, that the society
of Orwell’s 1984 displayed minimal levels of insurrection and crime; it would then mean
that it is in fact legitimate. Even worse for the realist project, accepting such a low-bar
condition on legitimacy would not only legitimate fictional nightmares states, but also
present-world dictatorships or authoritarian regimes of which many oil-states make out
the paradigm. And that would be much too big a bullet to bite.
Floyd’s solution to this potential problem is to go for historical track records.
Rather than looking directly at present behaviour, normative behaviourism
looks for large numbers and long-term trends. This means that we cannot justify a
new experimented-with set of principles on the basis of a few years of success in a
single context. We can however, at least sometimes, reject such experiments, by
noting that all the key elements of an earlier failed system are present within it. In
these cases we know that the ‘new’ experiment will ultimately fail, at least once
temporary environmental conditions have been removed (2020: 146).
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In other words, on Floyd’s official program, what determines whether or not a system of
government is legitimate on normative behaviourism is not the present level of crime and
insurrection compared to alternative orders, or even the level of crime and insurrection
during the entire regime of the present order (‘a few years of success in a single context’).
In order for the power to be legitimate, the principles governing the society should
“produce less insurrection than any other kind of political system in recorded history”
(2020: 140).1
With this move away from present levels of crime and insurrection to historical
track records, Floyd gets a contrast class that enables him to reject what is likely to be
temporary situations of behaviour satisfaction. As Floyd puts it: “If its historical record is
poor, then its political present – perhaps buoyed by natural-resource money, or steep but
unsustainable economic growth, or a charismatic leader whose star will eventually wane
– is comparatively irrelevant” (2020: 146).
But we ask: irrelevant according to whom, and, more importantly, on what
grounds? Floyd’s quick conclusion might seem natural: of course, with gold and sweet
talk it might be possible to keep people satisfied for a while, but eventually the spell will
break, and so, looking at (dis)satisfaction over time is the solution. However, this is still
just our pre-theoretical intuitions talking, and so we must ask ourselves how the political
present becomes “comparatively irrelevant”, according to the normative behaviourist
account.
Pondering this question, it seems clear that steering away from the first horn
resulting from the ‘direct’ interpretation of the legitimacy condition of normative
behaviourism, places Floyd firmly in front of the second horn: his account becomes
reliant on the same mainstream ‘moralist’ value commitments he argued threatens
1 The last being his claim about social-liberal democracy – the system of rule that Floyd argues, as a matter of empirical
fact, to be the legitimate one.
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traditional realist accounts when they want to avoid conflating perceived legitimacy with
actual legitimacy. This is so since the strategy used in order to avoid the first horn of the
dilemma is grounded on a number of implicit value commitments that are just as sensitive
to “intractable value-conflict” (2020: 145) as Floyd accuses the realist solutions to be.
This becomes evident when highlighting the fundamental basis of Floyd’s account:
reading off what is right from people’s behaviour rather than their mental states. If
actions really speak louder than words, if what counts is people’s actual behaviour in
actual situations rather than their mental states – typically concerning hypothetical
situations, thought examples and intuitions – it seems to entail, as in the first horn of the
dilemma discussed above, that the legitimacy of a political rule is determined by people’s
actual satisfaction (or rather, lack of dissatisfaction). Floyd’s preferred condition,
however, relies on the value commitment that large numbers and long-term historical
trends determine the legitimacy status of a political rule. This implies that no current rule
is legitimate unless the principles that it embodies have a proven historical record, which
is the paradigm of a conservative value commitment.2 Moreover, by rejecting a given
system of rule by referring to “key elements of an earlier failed system”, we are relying
on value commitments to the effect that some elements (judged as ‘key elements’) trump
all other elements, however well-supported by good reasons and positive data, even
including very low present levels of crime and insurrection.
The upshot of Floyd’s strategy is thus that his account, no less than realists trying
to establish authentic acceptance, also “encourages attempts to distinguish between
reasonable and unreasonable acceptance, and ultimately between what a reasonable and
an unreasonable person could accept” (2020: 145). Hence, rather than improving political
realism by solving the legitimacy problem, normative behaviourism inherits exactly the
2
Floyd indeed acknowledges that one of the potential objections to his account is “that normative behaviourism is
excessively conservative, given that it apparently only justifies the historically-tested status quo” (2020: 148, 2023).
Note here, though, that our point in not that the commitment of justifying the historically tested is problematic, but
that it is, no doubt, a value commitment.
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same ‘problem’3 of relying on value commitments and thus fails to “escape the kind of
value-conflict it wants to transcend” (2020: 145).
In the rest of this section, we trace these challenges facing normative
behaviourism to its fundamental thesis that the account is grounded in behavioural facts
rather than values and explain why this thesis is flawed.
II.II. The role and status of fundamental principles
In his writings, Floyd repeatedly and emphatically states that his account is grounded by
facts rather than values, and spends a considerable effort to defend this thesis (Floyd
2017, 2020). We take this defence to have two related parts, which we treat in this
subsection and the next.
Floyd’s first defence is aimed directly at G. A. Cohen, who famously has argued that
facts cannot ultimately ground principles (Cohen 2003, 2008). Cohen argues that no fact
of any kind can ground a normative principle, unless there is a further normative principle
which explains why this is so. Ultimately, Cohen holds, there will always be a normative
principle that is not grounded on facts. Floyd takes Cohen’s argument to be the most
important objection to his account (2017: 170-171, 2020: 148), and questions both its
relevance and truth. Before turning to Floyd’s argument, let us rehearse the thrust of
Cohen’s line of argument.4
Cohen distinguishes between two kinds of principles: those that are dependent on
facts and those that are fact-independent. On his account, “a principle can reflect or
respond to a fact only because it is also a response to a principle that is not a response to
a fact” (Cohen 2003: 214). The idea is that if we have a principle P that is sensitive to facts
F, there is another “more ultimate principle that explains why F supports P” (Cohen 2003:
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We use scare quotes here since we do not share Floyd’s premise that our actual disagreement in value questions is a
problem, neither a justificatory or a methodological one. We will not pursue that line of argument here, though, since
our claim in the paper is simply that Floyd’s account does not improve on political realism.
4
See Erman and Möller 2023. For an extended analysis, see Erman and Möller 2016, 2017, 2019.
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218). Cohen exemplifies with the principle ‘we should keep our promises’ (A), which we
assume depends on the fact that only then can people pursue their projects. Principle (A),
Cohen argues, is true only because there is a further principle (B), ‘we should help people
pursue their projects’ (Cohen 2003: 216–17). This further is also true – if true it is – only
because of a further fact, namely that people can achieve happiness only if they pursue
their projects. But the latter fact is explanatory salient only if there is yet another
principle (C) that states ‘we should promote people’s happiness’. For a utilitarian
hedonist, we have now reached a principle which is true regardless of any further facts;
it is a fact-free normative principle. If we are not utilitarians, however, the regress
continues at least one more step, since there must be some fact which explains in virtue
of what we should promote people’s happiness. But eventually, we reach some normative
principle which holds regardless of any further fact.
Floyd’s first line of defence accepts, for the sake of argument, the truth of Cohen’s
claim, but argues that it is irrelevant: “facts matter more than ultimate principles when
justifying either moral or political principles. This is because ultimate principles are so
abstract, due to their fact-independence, as to be virtually useless, normatively speaking”
(2020: 149). Even if there are fact-free ultimate principles, Floyd continues, “it will still
be the case that, as far as political philosophy is concerned, fact-dependent principles are
where the action is” (2020: 150). The kind of principles of interest in political philosophy,
Floyd argues, are those which pass tests like a reasonable rejection test, so if we show
“that only one set of principles passes that test, then it will generally be considered that
one has provided all the grounding one needs” (2020: 150).
Unfortunately, Floyd’s line of argument here seems to misunderstand the
relevance of Cohen’s argument. Of course, as the history of moral and political philosophy
has showed, an ultimate grounding principle might be abstract: Kant’s categorical
imperative (in any of its versions), or respecting the autonomy of each person, or
maximizing the well-being of sentient beings; these are all examples of fundamental
principles that are abstract, in need of both interpretation and further (typically factual)
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premises in order for us to apply them in practice. But although I cannot always – and
perhaps not even typically – directly ‘read off’ the answer to whether I should, say, tell a
lie in a certain situation from a set of ultimate grounding principles, the correctness of the
actual – intermediate – principle, which I might use in order to figure this out (e.g. “lie
only in cases where telling the truth would only hurt the recipient”), will depend on some
underlying principle, which, and this is Cohen’s point, will ultimately be a fact-free
principle, i.e. one that is correct regardless of some further fact. In other words, even if
the principles which we typically deal with in political philosophy are less abstract than
any fact-free grounding principles would be, the potential correctness of these political
principles are ultimately explained by some fact-free principles.
This means that Floyd’s claim that behavioural facts (crime and insurrection)
determine the legitimacy of a rule, that historical records rather than present levels are
decisive, and that key elements of earlier failed system may invalidate a present system
of rule, are all values that are either themselves fact-free, or are ultimately explained by
a principle that is so. That such principles may be ‘further down the explanatory line’ is
neither here nor there. If the foundation is not solid, the whole building falls apart
regardless.
Hence, Floyd’s argument against the relevance of the claim that facts cannot
ground principles is unsuccessful, but what about his objection against its truth? Floyd’s
main argument here is that “principles, in order to be justified for a particular kind of
creature (e.g. a human being), have to be grounded in facts about that creature” (2020:
152) Sheep and bears are factually different from humans, and thus the principles that
apply to them do not apply to us, and vice versa. That means, Floyd argues, “that for a
principle to be justified, it has to be grounded in facts about the kind of creature it is
intended for” (2020: 151). It might be facts about how a certain kind of creature thinks,
how it behaves, or what it feels, but regardless, it must be some set of facts grounding our
principles. “This means,” Floyd concludes, “that there are no ultimate principles; only
ultimate facts” (Floyd 2020: 151).
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Again, Floyd’s argument misses its mark. He is definitely right in claiming that
facts play a role in the grounding of our principles. That we should not hit the person next
to us in the head is typically justified by facts such as that it would hurt her or be against
her will. And more generally, moral and political principles are typically justified by
reference to all kinds of empirical facts about humans, such that we are rational beings,
that we feel things, and that we have certain wills and desires. But this is perfectly in line
with Cohen’s argument.
Let us take the example of a principle such as ‘you should not hit a person on the
head.’ That principle, let us say, is grounded in the fact that hitting a person hurt them.
Well, this just means that the truth of that principle is dependent on another principle,
‘you should not hurt people.’ Now – according to the now familiar process – either that
principle depends on a further fact, or it is true regardless of factual circumstances. Let
us say that we give a number of further explanations for why hurting people is bad (such
that it is detriment to our health, makes us sad, etc). Eventually, the list of reasons will
run out, and we will be left with a principle stating that ‘Given that hurting people do
…[the full list of factual reasons], it is wrong to hurt people.’ Finally, since we have
assumed that all relevant facts about why hurting people is bad is included in ‘…’, this
principle is fact-free, i.e. it is valid regardless of what the ‘ultimate facts’ are.
In other words, the fact that the kind of creature we are gives rise to moral
principles which should otherwise not hold, cannot escape the fact that ultimately, when
we reach rock-bottom, our principles will be fact-free. That the level of crime and
insurrection determines the legitimacy of a rule and that historical records trump current
records, if indeed that it the case, are either fact-free or are explained by principles which
are. In sum, normative behaviourism does not in fact move from ‘is to ought’, as is
proclaimed, but from ‘ought to is’, as any account in normative theory.
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II.III. The role and status of reasons internalism
Floyd’s second defence of the thesis that normative behaviourism is grounded in facts
rather than values utilizes the idea of reasons internalism, i.e., the idea that in order for a
person to have a reason to act in a certain way, some motivational fact must be true about
her (cf. Darwall 1983; Schroeder 2007). As a consequence, Floyd argues, “imperatives
are, when properly understood, hypothetical imperatives, given that they depend upon
contingent features of the motivational make-up of the creatures for whom they are
intended” (Floyd 2020: 151). More specifically, Floyd endorses a version of the Humean
theory of reason in which it is necessary, in order for someone to have a reason to act in
a certain way, that she has a desire or will that would be served by this act (Floyd 2017:
172-173).
Introducing this idea, Floyd gives the parallel cases of a recommendation for a
bear to go fishing in a river full of salmon, and the recommendation for humans to choose
a social-liberal democratic rule (i.e. the kind of rule he argues fulfils his condition of
minimizing crime and insurrection). “Why”, he asks rhetorically about the former, “would
this recommendation have no normative force if we can observe both that the bear would
like to eat salmon and that fishing in the river would enable it to do so?” (Floyd 2017:
172). And why, he asks about the latter, “would this recommendation have no normative
force if we can observe both (1) that humans want to avoid these things [famine, war,
disease, subjugation, and instability] and (2) that building this political system would
enable them to do so?” (Floyd 2017: 172).
Floyd finds it obvious that both of these cases do have normative force, and that
they do so since the recommendations involve satisfying the needs and desires of the bear
and the humans, respectively. Discussing a variety of choice situations – from choosing a
restaurant to a partner or a career – he argues that being reasonable “means nothing
more or less than consistent faithfulness to one’s pre-existing needs and desires,
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including their relative strengths and the connections between them” (Floyd 2017: 173).5
He continues:
Reason is thus about logic in the sense that it is about being consistent with and
faithful to my pre-existing needs and desires. Eating mud, simply because you hate it,
is illogical, and thus unreasonable. Eating cheese, simply because you like it, is logical,
and thus reasonable – provided, again, that there are no further, stronger, and
countervailing needs or desires. And so it goes on (Floyd 2017: 173).
Since it is a factual matter what our desires are, Floyd argues, what we have reason to do
is grounded in facts. Hence, facts ground principles, and we can go from ‘is’ to ‘ought’
rather than the other way around.
The quick way of objecting to the above argument is of course to simply apply
Cohen’s point to Floyd’s argument. That is, even if Floyd is right, it would still be the case
that what ultimately explains the normative force of the recommendation for a bear to go
fishing in a river full of salmon, and the recommendation for humans to choose a socialliberal democratic rule, would be the (fact-free) principle that we should do what, and
only what, would serve our “pre-existing needs and desires”. That is a value commitment
that Floyd, and everyone convinced by his account, must hold, in just the same way as
mainstream political theorists must hold on to their respective basic value commitments.
However, since adhering to internalist accounts of reason in general and the Humean
theory of reason in particular is popular in realist accounts in general, it may be valuable
to look more closely at Floyd’s utilisation of Humean theory of reason, and how it coheres
with his account.
5
On an exegetical note, it should be mentioned that there are several ways to interpret the ’need’ part of Floyd’s
reasons-claim here, some of which are in tension with the Humean theory of reason, since what we desire and what
we need are different things. However, since Floyd explicitly sides with “Hume’s famous dictum about reason always
being a slave to the passions” (Floyd 2017: 175) and every example Floyd brings forward involves only the desire
part, we take it to be clear that Floyd has the Humean theory of reasons in mind here.
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To begin with, it is important to distinguish the idea that human needs and desires
are typical – and legitimate – sources of normativity, from the idea that for something to
be a reason to act, it must contribute to the satisfaction of a desire. The former is
commonplace in contemporary political theory. Hence, it is rather uncontroversial to
hold, at least prima facie, that the bear both desires and needs food such as salmon gives
it (or constitutes) a reason to go fishing, just as you do not have a reason to eat mud but
a reason to eat cheese, if you hate the former and love the latter. What is not
uncontroversial, of course, is the latter claim that a person’s (or indeed a creature’s)
reasons can be reduced to whatever contributes to fulfilling its desires and needs.
The main problem for the controversial view that “faithfulness to one’s preexisting needs and desires” is necessary for someone to have a reason to act in a certain
way, is that it has some extremely repugnant conclusions. Surely, eating cheese, simply
because you like it, is reasonable. But what about people who happen to desire awful
things? To take an infamous example, imagine a person who desires to torture babies.
That desire might be direct, in the sense that the person in question gets some direct
satisfaction from the torture, or it might be indirect, in the sense that the person believes
that babies love being tortured, together with the normative belief that you should make
people happy. Regardless, it seems highly problematic to say that the person has a reason
to torture babies. And it seems equally problematic that a person has no reason at all, say,
to defuse a bomb that would kill an entire skyscraper full of people, simply because she
has no desire to do so.
In other words, it seems highly problematic to hold the general view, as Floyd
does, that “[m]y feeling unhappy, for example, is only a reason for you to help me if you
care at some level about my happiness. Sure, I could say you should care, but that would
only bite if I could find some other commitment underpinning it you do already hold”
(Floyd 2023: 492). While Floyd might be right that causally (or motivationally) speaking,
a norm only has ‘bite’ if it has some committable underpinning, as a view on normative
reasons suitable for moral or political theory, it is problematic indeed. Consequently, it is
18
not, as Floyd writes: “because you think you would save an imaginary child drowning in
a pond that you ought to accept a particular principle of justice. It is because you think
you would turn a runaway trolley this way or that way that you should accept a particular
principle of warfare” (Floyd 2023: 491; italics in original). So while we agree that eating
cheese, simply because you like it, is perfectly reasonable, we insist that torturing babies
simply because you like it, if that happens to be the case, is not reasonable, even if you
have “no further, stronger, and countervailing needs or desires” (Floyd 2017: 173).
One way out of this ‘repugnant conclusion’ would be to argue that while reasons
ultimately are grounded in desires, what matters is not people’s actual desires (“one’s
pre-existing needs and desires”) but people’s desires under some suitable counterfactual
circumstances. The most popular suggestions here include some version of having full
information (e.g. Smith 1994), being rational (e.g. Korsgaard 1996), having a coherent
belief-set (e.g. Brandt 1979), or being emphatic (e.g. Korsgaard 1996; McDowell 1979).
On such suggestions, the aspiring child-torturer should arguably not have reasons to act
on his desires, since his fully rational, informed and emphatic version would not have any
child-torturing desires.
Whether suggestions as the ones above really avoid all versions of what we above
called the repugnant conclusion is a matter of controversy, but it seems clear that they
stand a much better chance to do so. However, what is also clear is that they are highly
idealized versions of reasons internalism.6 Consequently, were Floyd to adopt such an
interpretation of his Humean theory of reason, his account would also in this respect be
just as ‘idealistic’ as the ‘ideal’ accounts against which he contrasts himself (as well as
accuses other political realist accounts to fall back to). Indeed, Floyd’s enterprise of
staking his account on a specific idea on what constitutes a reason seems, even if ignoring
its problematic entailments, to be against his overall aim to avoid ‘disagreement about
6
Indeed, in their overview of reasons internalism, Lord and Plunkett (2017: 334) call such versions ‘idealized
internalism’.
19
thoughts’ that in his view haunts mainstream political theory. As mentioned above,
reason internalism as such is highly controversial, and his ‘actualist’ account even more
so. Hence, even if he were to falsify Cohen’s thesis with his Humean theory of reason
(which he does not), it would be at the cost of going against his own methodological
criteria.
III. Rebuttal of the solution to the institutional problem
So far we have treated our first claim, i.e., that normative behaviourism does not solve the
legitimacy problem. Let us now move to our second claim, i.e., that normative
behaviourism does not solve the institutional problem either. The institutional problem
concerns how we should translate political principles into feasible political institutions.
It starts with two complaints against mainstream political theory made by realists: that
its political principles are typically too abstract and therefore too indeterminate to
generate workable institutional prescriptions, and that its political principles typically
entail unfeasible institutions, violating the proviso ‘ought-implies-can’. Realists
themselves, however, have not come up with a viable solution to this problem either,
according to proponents of normative behaviourism. In Floyd’s view, the appropriate
way of addressing this problem is by starting out from proven institutions and thereafter
move to abstract principles. In other words, moving ‘from-is-to-ought’, rather than the
other way around, normative behaviourism begins with a particular set of institutions
that generates the least insurrection and crime in practice, and then argues that whatever
principles these institutions express are justified. It thereby offers both determinate and
feasible institutional proposals, something which allegedly neither mainstream political
theory nor realism does (Floyd 2020: 147).
As we demonstrated in the previous section, since normative behaviourism does
not in fact move from ‘is-to-ought’, as is proclaimed, but from ‘ought-to-is’, as any account
in normative theory, the proposed solution to the institutional problem starts from a false
20
premise. However, would the account solve this problem if the justification would have
been successful? This is what we explore in the current section.
Let us begin with Floyd’s general requirement for any successful account in
political theory, notably, that “a convincing and meaningful answer” to political
philosophy’s organizing question – i.e. how should we live? – must fulfil two criteria: (1)
it must be politically determinate (“in terms of its principles and institutions” (2017:
229), and (2) it must be “rationally compelling to all those who would have to live with
it” (2017: 166). We see no support for why normative behaviourism would fare better
with regard to fulfilling these two criteria than mainstream political theory, such as
Rawls’ theory. Recall that the main argument for why the former offers a more convincing
answer than the latter is that the latter relies on agreements on ‘patterns of thoughts’
whereas the former relies on ‘patterns of behaviour’, and while people disagree about
thoughts, they converge in their behavioural patterns. However, we don’t find this
inference persuasive. The role of agreement that Floyd assigns to mainstream political
philosophy rests on a misunderstanding. Indeed, not even Rawls’ concept of ‘overlapping
consensus’ relies on actual consensus for the justification of his theory. Therefore, it is an
open question which of the two approaches best fulfils the two criteria.
With regard to the first criterion, it surely seems as if Rawls’ two principles of justice
are far more determinate than Floyd’s, since Floyd does not formulate any substantive
principles but simply stresses that the best (most legitimate) political system is ‘socialliberal democracy’, incorporating two basic values: the rule by the people (democratic
decision-making) and equality. Since largely all contemporary political theories
incorporate some version of these values into their accounts, this answer can hardly
count as “politically determinate”.
With regard to the second criterion, we cannot see why Rawls’ two principles would
be less “rationally compelling” to those who would have to live with them than socialliberal democracy. Floyd puts forward four arguments for why people “should be
convinced by social-liberal democracy” as an answer to the organizing question. It is
21
convincing for those who care about security, who prioritize the avoidance of cruelty, who
want to see people flourish, and who find social-liberal democracy less unbearable than
any other attempted system (2017: 229-231). However, it is not self-evident that these
values are more rationally compelling than Rawls’ principles.
Now, while it is wholly unclear why normative behaviourism would fulfil the two
criteria of a sound political theory better than mainstream accounts generally, it does
seem as if the criteria are connected to feasibility concerns, such that a satisfactory
fulfilment of them would constitute a possible solution to the institutional problem. A
determinate principle is typically more practically applicable than an indeterminate one,
and likewise, a principle which is rationally compelling to those who are supposed to
abide by it, raises the likelihood of it being successfully adopted and implemented.
As we saw above, Floyd’s strategy here is to start out from institutions that in fact
generate the least insurrection and crime, and then make explicit the principles
regulating them (which hence are considered justified). By doing so, these institutions
become both determinate and feasible, according to Floyd, and more so than proposals
suggested by realists (2020: 147).
However, we cannot see why normative behaviourism offers a convincing response
to the institutional problem and in what sense it improves political realism. There are
two reasons for this. First, if a feasible political system is a system in which its institutions
have proven that they are legitimate (social-liberal democracy), i.e., have generated the
least insurrection and crime, then the question of feasibility becomes redundant or
irrelevant, since such a system is already up and running, as it were. While that would
entail a solution to the institutional problem where there is no such problem, it will give
no guidance for any other societies. Second, if we were to apply the principles regulating
such a social-liberal democracy (e.g., the Danish system, which is Floyd’s example) to a
country like Zimbabwe, it seems likely that this is less feasible than applying any principle
of legitimacy suggested by realists. Floyd’s own argument is that in situations where we
22
lack the resources needed to implement his suggested principles, such as in a country like
Zimbabwe,
there is no evidence that introducing egalitarian-liberal-democracy overnight is
impossible. History is full of societies which, after standing still for centuries,
transformed their economic and political arrangements at relative speed. Think, for
example, of some of the consolidated democracies of East Asia (Floyd 2020: 147-48,
our italics).
But if this is the argument, it holds for virtually any mainstream account too: as long as it
is not proven to be impossible (and thus does not violate the proviso ‘ought implies can’),
it is feasible. Moreover, and more importantly for our purposes, it seems as if realists
propose more feasible prescriptions after all, since they typically reject the idea that there
is a single set of criteria that all legitimate political systems must meet. Instead, realists
emphasize that legitimacy involves delivering on values and managing conflicts in ways
that are contextually sensitive and acceptable to the subjects of political power. While
they maintain that some forms of power or authority are illegitimate, such as those that
are based on unnecessary coercion or deception, political legitimacy typically requires
something much weaker than the principles regulating a social-liberal democratic
system.
For Bernard Williams, for example, what is required is that the exercise of political
power is justified in ways that the subjects of that power can understand and potentially
accept (Williams 2005). Hence, rather than proposing demanding (sometimes
unfeasible) principles requiring democratic rule and equality, it suffices that the system
can provide acceptable reasons for its actions, which involves being responsive to the
values, interests and understandings of its subjects. Even less demanding and thus more
feasible for societies like Zimbabwe, Raymond Geuss’ view is that a legitimate system is
one that can navigate and manage conflicts effectively within their particular contexts
(Geuss 2008). A third realist example is John Dunn, who argues that that legitimate
23
political systems are those that can effectively deliver on the values that they promise to
their citizens. This could mean a promise of democratic control, as demanded by
normative behaviourism, but it could also mean something much less ambitious, such as
protection against poverty (Dunn 2005). The point here is simply that many realist
proposals, such as the three mentioned here, offer far more viable solutions to the
institutional problem than normative behaviourism.
IV. Winding up: new problems facing normative behaviourism
Let us wind up our analysis by bringing up two new problems facing normative
behaviourism, which realist approaches typically do not face. We argue, first, that
normative behaviourism is a kind of closet utilitarianism, but with a more problematic
value measure that rests on universal principles which realists reject, and second, that
normative behaviourism is both too demanding and normatively unattractive for realists.
Normative behaviourism and utilitarianism are structurally very similar. For
normative behaviourism, a fundamental premise is that dissatisfaction among citizens in
society is bad, while for utilitarianism a fundamental value premise is that well-being, in
terms of desire-fulfilment, happiness, or preference-fulfilment, has non-instrumental
value and is good. Connected to these values are some fundamental principles. For
normative behaviourism, those societies are best whose principles generate as low level
of dissatisfaction among citizens as possible ”with both the political system and the ways
of life it facilitates” (Floyd 2017: 189), while for utilitarianism, roughly put, those
societies are best whose principles generate as much well-being as possible. Apart from
similar value premises and principles, both approaches have similar measurements and
hence empirical implications. According to normative behaviourism, the amount of
dissatisfaction among citizens is measured in terms of the level of crime and the level of
insurrection, while utilitarians typically measure the maximation of well-being (or
something similar). On one influential view, what matters for well-being is the overall
24
level of preference-satisfaction in a person’s life as a whole (Crisp 2021). Lastly, with
regard to output, for both approaches it becomes mainly an empirical question which
kind of society the theories suggest (Erman and Möller 2023).
In sum, both approaches focus on actions, behaviour and well-being. For
normative behaviourism, the justification of principles roughly equals “political
commitment X numbers, with numbers meaning the percentage of people who commit a
certain type of action under a certain type of political system” (Floyd 2017: 169), while
for utilitarianism, the justification of principles roughly equals the sum of well-being over
all individuals. Yet, Floyd refuses to recognize these structural similarities and the
accusation of being a closet utilitarian (Erman and Möller 2023). On his view,
utilitarianism fails because the justification of “any particular metric of happiness” would
have to rely on “convincing reasons for tracking one metric over another”, about which
people disagree (2020: 154). This is not the case for normative behaviourism, because
“real actions really do ground political principles” (Floyd 2023: 492). However, this is
simply not true. As we saw above in our discussion of the legitimacy problem, no actions
can by themselves ground any principles.
Just because normative behaviourism is grounded in a negative and non-utopian
value (low levels of dissatisfaction), rather than, say a positive and utopian value (e.g.
total equality or distributive justice), it is no less a value premise. As pointed out by Judith
Shklar, who grounds her ‘negative’ account in a ‘fear of cruelty’, a liberal political theory
cannot rest on “this or any other naturalistic fallacy” (Shklar 1989: 30). To become “a
principle of political morality”, she argues, liberalism of fear needs to be recognized as “a
necessary condition of the dignity of persons” (1989: 30). Similarly, low levels of
dissatisfaction must be recognized as necessary condition for a good (legitimate) society
on the normative behaviourist account. A value premise, in other words.
In sum, normative behaviourism encounters a new problem that realism does not
have, since realists would wholeheartedly reject the substantive universal principles of
the kind that normative behaviourism embraces (see Modood 2023). Realists are
25
typically contextualists, at the most defending thin universal procedural principles as
exemplified earlier.
Also a second problem materializes for normative behaviourism in relation to
realism, namely, that its prescriptions become both too demanding and normatively
unattractive for realists. For sure, realists share with normative behaviourists the worry
that the ‘status quo bias’ may be a major obstacle, since both wish to ground their
accounts in facts while at the same time envisage radical departures from our current
state of affairs (Prinz and Rossi 2017; Rossi 2016; Floyd 2022: 9). However, to
recommend something (social-liberal democracy) “for ‘here’ based on what happened
over ‘there’, or even ‘anywhere’ in the past” (Floyd 2022: 14). seem to go against realism
in several respects. First, one of the key features of realism is to carefully distinguish, both
conceptually and normatively, political legitimacy from democracy. It would simply be
too demanding in most contexts for political legitimacy to require democracy and thus
too context-insensitive (see Baderin 2023). Second, it would also be highly unattractive,
since those who call themselves ‘radical realists’ see capitalism as the main obstacle for a
legitimate political order. They typically reject or question this economic system, which
is both praised and protected in all social-liberal democratic systems (we have witnessed
so far in history). As noted above, realists are often contextualists and would not accept
any substantial and context-insensitive universal principles of any kind. By contrast,
Floyd is not contextualist with regard to the justification of the correct principles – since
these are justified from low levels of crime and insurrection – but at the most with regard
to the implementation of those principles (feasibility).
In sum, we conclude that normative behaviourism fails in its attempt to supply an
improved version of realism and encounters new problems that realists typically do not
face.
26
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