Max Weber understood how democracy in the seventeenth century was tied to Calvinist individualism and the rejection of external forms. Thomas Hobbes hated the consequences of puritan rule and argued that politics needed to accept the principle of the mask in order to create social order. The lawyer William Prynne in his Histrio-mastix portrayed theatre as the root of all evils in the royalist regime, but he himself proved a masterly performer in working to undermine the regime. The most radical democratic thinking came from the ‘Levellers’ who harked back to the Garden of Eden and natural human innocence. Shakespeare interrogated the ambivalent myth of Eden in Henry VI Part Two, as did Milton in Paradise Lost. The Putney debates constitute the main focus of this chapter. Common soldiers with Leveller views argued with their generals about constitutional principles. Close analysis of the debate reveals the complications that followed from claims to sincerity, couched as insistence that because God had spoken to them speakers were following their consciences, avoiding rhetoric or hypocrisy. The religious context in fact allowed a high level of democratic exchange.

A multilevel conception of identity is proposed in this chapter, with individual, social, human, and ecological levels. Emphasis is placed on the nature of the relationships among the different identity positions, with a focus on dialogical flexibility and the distinction between consonant and dissonant dialogues. The risk of over-positioning is analyzed, indicating the one-sided exaggeration of one of the identities, and attention is devoted to the “level confusion” resulting from a lack of distinction between the different levels. An elaborate discussion of the concept of conscience is presented. From a neurological perspective, evidence shows that the natural inclination of bonding and caring puts limitations on our circle of moral regard. Finally, the worldviews of two historical icons, Jane Addams and Andrew Carnegie, are compared in order to demonstrate the value of promoter positions.

In the spring of 1593, a spate of viciously xenophobic libels appeared throughout London. The most notorious of these, the so-called Dutch Church libel, landed Thomas Kyd and Christopher Marlowe in some trouble, possibly due to its prominent allusions to Marlowe’s plays. This chapter argues that the collaborative, censored playscript Sir Thomas More reprises the incendiary confluence of libel, xenophobia, and drama that took place in 1593. The play’s opening scenes dramatize the anti-immigrant Evil May Day riot of 1517 with an eye to the 1590s, showing the strangers’ crimes and the violent resistance of London’s citizens. The citizens take their grievances public once all legal avenues for redress have failed. Yet libel and riot are not the only extralegal recourses in the play. The latter two-thirds of Sir Thomas More track the rise and fall of its titular character, who himself repeatedly confronts the limits of the law. Thomas More’s career extends the initial dramatization of libel into an extended meditation on the remedies available to any subject afflicted by unjust law, from bills and libels to riot to the vexed administration of equity and the vagaries of conscience.

Evolutionary psychologists have long maintained that humans’ moral sense is essential to their success as a species and part of what makes humans unique among animals. Moral systems have functional roots, helping individual organisms survive, thrive, and pass on their genetic material. It is not despite anarchy but because of anarchy that humans have an ethical sense. Evolutionary theorists identify moral condemnation and binding morality as crucial for the emergence of other-regarding, altruistic behavior that makes liberal morality possible in the first place. When others harm us, or even third parties, we condemn, passing moral judgments and sometimes retaliating; we do not speak evil but speak of evil. Moral condemnation encouraged the development of moral conscience to avoid the outrage of, and often violent group punishment by, those who were wronged. This internalized sense of right and wrong in turn acted as a credible signal of cooperativeness that unwittingly and unconsciously paid material dividends. Group favoritism, also thought to have evolutionary origins, is moral in nature as well. Those early humans who felt obligated to contribute to the collective defense against common threats in an extremely dangerous environment could prosper enough to offset the competing incentives to free-ride within the group.

Chapter 1 covers the raising of consciousness and conscience and the interplay of authenticity and estrangement through a reading of Hannah Arendt, whose work we have found a profound inspiration throughout the book, notably her re-imagining of the ancient Greek city state of Athens and the polis as its political forum. The polis is an idealized space in whose relational confines an organized condition of authenticity can appear. It is a space to which those responsible for the administrative defence of the city, the strategoi, belong, but over which they have no authority. Separated from the household (oikos, the root term for economics), the polis is not primarily concerned with necessity, a condition Arendt calls labour, preoccupied with activity aimed at sustaining the metabolic persistence of life. Nor is it primarily a matter of work, of making and fabricating functional, symbolic and institutional things that last, such as temples, or laws, and that in return let the makers and fabricators ‘live on’ in reflection of the things they have produced. Drawing from the structure of the polis, we argue in this chapter for the intimacy between strategy and authenticity

Hutcheson and Butler were contemporaries whose best-known works appeared within a year of one another. Although they had similar intellectual temperaments and styles, their philosophical approaches differed in important ways that reverberated through thinkers that followed. Both were sharply analytical, and both shared a keen insight into moral psychology. Moreover, both laid great stress on the psychology of moral judgment. Hutcheson called this, following Shaftesbury, “moral sense,” and Butler referred to it alternately as the “principle of reflection” or “conscience.” For both, moral judgment involves the human capacity to (more or less successfully) reflect upon and respond affectively to motives, characters, and actions in dispassionate impartial way. However, the role of moral reflection for these two philosophers is profoundly different. For Hutcheson, it is an observer’s moral sense that enables a person to make moral evaluations of motivation and actions, but these evaluations are not self-reflexive – the agent is not evaluating their own, or even others’, moral sense. For Butler, on the other hand, conscience is a moral faculty by which agents crucially make judgments of themselves, judgments they employ to shape their own actions. Conscience is action-guiding for Butler in a way that moral sense is not for Hutcheson.

Classical and medieval rhetorical theorists had many names for the figure of thought that we call ‘personification’ or prosopopoeia. This fundamentally hybrid figure occurs at the confluence of different kinds of discourse; definitions range across a spectrum from the ‘animate abstraction’ to the ‘person introduced to speak’. The essay explores the diverse rhetorical theory behind this figure. It then discusses the hybridity of this figure, and in particular its striking capacity for multivalency, change and even disintegration (paradiastole), in medieval vernacular narrative allegory. It focuses on Langland’s Piers Plowman, with reference to the figures Clergie, Patience, Conscience, Wil, Haukyn and Piers Plowman. Finally, the essay investigates another aspect of this hybridity that might seem counter-intuitive to readers who assume that prosopopoiae/personifications should have surface or even naturalistic narrative coherence: the way that this figure of thought allows Langland repeatedly to cultivate an ambiguity about whether his prosopopoiae/personifications are lay or ordained. This telling ambiguity reflects the poet’s disengaged attitude to the institution of the church and even the priesthood.

The end of a war is not just about a societys making peace with its former enemy. It is also about the societys making peace with itself. This begins with welcoming back those who have gone to war, those who must be at peace with themselves and at peace with others over what they have done. My title, The Lament of the Demobilized, is from Vera Brittain, a leading pacifist voice of the twentieth century whose pacifism – I call it soldier pacifism – was grounded in her first-hand experience of war. Such soldier pacifism holds that the grief of knowing war means the soldier can never fully return home, and that this constitutes an indictment of all war. I explore this theme through memoirs, literature, poetry, as well as recent topics in just war theory.

The end of a war is not just about a societys making peace with its former enemy. It is also about the societys making peace with itself. This begins with welcoming back those who have gone to war, those who must be at peace with themselves and at peace with others over what they have done. My title, The Lament of the Demobilized, is from Vera Brittain, a leading pacifist voice of the twentieth century whose pacifism – I call it soldier pacifism – was grounded in her first-hand experience of war. Such soldier pacifism holds that the grief of knowing war means the soldier can never fully return home, and that this constitutes an indictment of all war. I explore this theme through memoirs, literature, poetry, as well as recent topics in just war theory.

Chapter 5 considers the theology and moral philosophy of the respected theologian and moral casuist, Robert Sanderson. The divine Sanderson despaired of the unfortunate consequences for practical morality of denying the responsibility and freedom of individuals. In its historical context his doubt amounted to finally rejecting the Calvinist doctrine of predestination. Scholars consider Sanderson’s Several Cases of Conscience Discussed in Ten Lectures in the Divinity School at Oxford a main reference for Locke in the writing of the unpublished Two Tracts of Government and his foundational Essays on the Law of Nature. Sanderson’s work sets out a moral philosophy of free will reinforced by mechanical overtones of necessary causality in reasoning. The chapter briefly analyses this type of ‘mechanical conscience’ and shows how Sanderson was committed to a de facto theory of government.