Review of Avishai Margalit's Lectures,
by Randall Harp Ph.D. candidate in Philosophy
In our more optimistic moments, we like to think that justice and peace are complementary notions---that
to advance in one domain is to simultaneously advance in the other, that the same universal fount supplies
both commodities. When we are being more realistic, we admit that nothing ensures that progress in justice
also entails progress in peace, and that indeed we often must settle for one or the other. Even the
realists among us, though, tend to accept the conceptual force of the slogan `no justice, no peace';
even if we are not guaranteed that progress in one leads to progress in the other, nevertheless it is
difficult to secure one without the other. The flip side of the slogan is equally plausible: if there
is no peace, there cannot be justice. It would seem to be only the pessimists, then, who suggest that
the two concepts might well be opposed to one another, at least occasionally, and that we might find
ourselves forced to make a difficult choice between the two: take justice at the expense of peace, or
take peace at the expense of justice.
Avishai Margalit, the noted economist and philosopher invited to deliver the 2005 Tanner Lectures in
Human Values, is no pessimist. Yet in his series of lectures, he cautioned that we do occasionally
find ourselves forced to make exactly that difficult decision. When we find ourselves in the penumbra
between peace and justice, towards which should we turn?
Margalit limits his attention to situations in which two parties to a dispute face the possibility of
compromise. Compromise, Margalit notes, has two faces. Rational choice theorists typically consider
a compromise to be any resolution of a conflict (or, more specifically, a bargaining situation---a
conflict in which each party has clearly demarcated preferences about possible resolutions) in which
each party gets a desired outcome and each party sacrifices towards the outcome (when the desired
outcomes are not mutually possible). If Abraham (the buyer) values the burial plot at 450 shekels
and Ephron (the seller) values it at 200 shekels, then a compromise in the rational choice tradition
is any transaction in which the plot is sold between 200 and 450 shekels.
Margalit labels such compromise `anemic compromise', and says that although it is occasionally of
interest, it does not adequately reflect what we typically consider to be genuine compromise. Margalit
considers genuine compromise to be what he calls `sanguine compromise', and in his lecture he offered
some of the distinguishing features of such compromise: sanguine compromise involves mutual concession;
sanguine compromise is incompatible with the notion that one party can have `the whole hog'; sanguine
compromise is a response to a deadlock in the conflict; sanguine compromise forbids coercion; and sanguine
compromise suggests recognizing the point of view of the other party, or seeing the other party to compromise
(and their concerns) as legitimate.
Sanguine compromises are `good' compromises, but we know that not all compromises are sanguine ones.
As Margalit noted, compromises can also be rotten---and rotten compromises have a moral repugnancy to
them that other compromises do not have. The Munich agreement---Chamberlain's agreement on a transfer
of Czechoslovakia to Hitler in a presumed exchange for future peace---was a rotten compromise, although
Margalit argues that the Munich compromise was rotten not because of its content, or because of empirical
facts about how the war turned out. Rather, the Munich compromise was rotten because it was signed with
Hitler. To quote Margalit, "what is rotten in the Munich pact? ...it is with whom it was signed and not
what was signed that makes it rotten. A pact with Hitler was a pact with radical evil, evil that was
meant to eradicate morality itself."
Compromises can be rotten even when one of the parties is not as evil as Hitler; compromises can
also be rotten when they bring about or maintain a state with profound moral violations, such as
states of extreme cruelty, humiliation, or degradation of other human beings. Margalit's example
here was of the `great compromise' in early American history regarding the continuation of the
institution of slavery. In both kinds of rotten compromise, the features that make the compromise
rotten are similar: rotten compromise attempts to trade morality for peace.
Margalit ended his first lecture talking about rotten compromises; in his second lecture,
titled `Decent Peace', Margalit detailed the tensions between compromise and peace.
Compromise, as Margalit noted, requires that each party be willing to make concessions. There are
cases, however, in which one party or the other is simply unwilling to concede certain points in the
course of bargaining. One of the most dramatic of these occurs when one of the bargainers is committed
to a religious vocabulary. The key feature of the holy is that the holy cannot be up for negotiation,
at the cost of being corrupted. As Margalit noted, `one cannot compromise over the holy without
compromising the holy.'
Nor is it better to temporarily compromise over the holy, with an eye towards recovering the holy land
or object in the future. This is irredentism, and Margalit finds it to be particularly troublesome in
negotiation and compromise. Irredentism both threatens negotiation (who, after all, could take concessions
seriously from a partner who openly claims to want to recover the lost goods at the first opportunity?)
and, more importantly, destabilizes peace.
In fact, Margalit notes, we should be wary of irredentism even when the irredentist goals are in
accordance with, and pursuit of, justice. Margalit uses a thought experiment involving two groups,
`Over-Dog' (the aggressor) and `Under-Dog' (the oppressed). Over-Dog has, in the past, unjustly
seized two lands from Under-Dog: Bread and Butter. Bread contains a large number of Under-Dogs,
and Over-Dog oppresses and humiliates the Under-Dogs in Bread. Butter has a minimal population,
but has great historical significance to Under-Dog and also has the potential of oil revenues in
the future.
(Only a thin veneer of make-believe separates Margalit's thought-experiment from reality, of course;
Margalit chose to lecture in abstracts and with reference to historical examples, although it is easy
enough to connect the dots to their inspirations in the Middle East.)
Margalit is clear and emphatic: morality compels Over-Dog to return both Bread and Butter to Under-Dog.
If, however, Over-Dog were to offer either Bread or Butter (but not both) to Under-Dog, what should
Under-Dog do? Space does not permit a full discussion of Margalit's argument here. Under-Dog ought
not just take Butter; such would be a rotten compromise. (The compromise is rotten because Under-Dog
would be complicit in leaving the Under-Dogs in misery in Bread.) Nor can Under-Dog take Butter and
maintain irredentist goals towards Bread; compromises for the sake of peace are binding, and ought
to be respected. If Under-Dog accepts the compromise, then Under-Dog should take Bread and renounce
its irredentist goals towards Butter, even though those goals are just. Under-Dog also has the option
of renouncing any compromise, if Under-Dog wishes to wage war in pursuit of justly recovering both lands.
When Under-Dog is forced to choose in this manner between peace (i.e. compromise over Bread and Butter
and renounce violent irredentism) and justice (i.e. compromise, but maintain aims of recovering both
Bread and Butter, through any means), Margalit emphasizes that Under-Dog morally ought to choose peace
at the expense of justice. Peace, Margalit says, requires sacrifice---and sometimes it is justice that
must go on the altar.
That morality requires peace rather than justice is even clearer if Over-Dog were to offer only
Butter, and demand that Under-Dog renounce irredentist claims on Bread. This offer on Bread's part is
even more unfair than asking Under-Dog to choose between the two provinces; not only is Over-Dog's
possession of Bread unjust, but it is also morally repugnant. (Over-Dog's possession of Butter is
merely unjust.) Still, if Under-Dog chooses to accept Over-Dog's offer and claims Butter, Under-Dog
is bound by their agreement to renounce irredentism. To quote Margalit, "Peace based on compromise
is justified even if, for the sake of peace, Under-Dog has to give up on war for a just cause, and
even if it has to give up on nonviolent struggle for that cause. This is justified because it
removes rational fears of future violent irredentism. It is the sacrifice of some justice for
the cause of peace."
It is unfair to object to Margalit's argument by noting that morality seems to compel Under-Dog to
give in to the bullying of Over-Dog. Margalit is clear on morality's demands on Over-Dog; he is also
clear that (at least in his thought experiment) Over-Dog has no interest in meeting its moral demands.
It is more troublesome that Margalit passes so quickly over the question of whether morality has any
demands on Under-Dog at all, as Under-Dog is attempting to compromise with a partner of rather bad faith.
Suppose a thief stole my car and offered to sell it back to me; does morality require me to not put a
stop on the check that I re-purchase the car with? Margalit claims that peace requires sacrifice;
if the car thief and I were engaged in a violent struggle over the car, then perhaps morality might
compel me to honor the payment. (We might also think that it is prudence, rather than morality,
which compels the result; for Margalit, however, the avoidance of peace belongs in the moral domain.)
It is not clear, however, that morality demands different behavior of me depending on whether the car
thief and I were engaged in violent struggle. (This is, admittedly, a poor example; war is always a
great deal bigger, and messier, and more involving of innocents than my toy example.)
We can wonder at the sacrifices Margalit demands for peace, however, without trivializing Margalit's
argument. Under-Dog is not only giving up a province; in renouncing irredentism, Under-Dog is giving
up its only bargaining chip, both at present and in the future. Margalit suggests that other bargaining
chips might be found in the future---that Under-Dog might apply political pressure on Over-Dog, for
instance---but that is a mere gamble. Any compromise that Under-Dog becomes not just binding, but
crippling. Margalit reasonably worries that if Under-Dog does not renounce irredentism, then compromise
in the present is tenuous and improbable for Over-Dog. However, if Under-Dog does renounce irredentism,
then compromise in the future becomes tenuous and improbable for Under-Dog. Any compromise, then, ought
to be satisfactory for the present and for the future, and the partner to the compromise must be trustworthy.
Margalit's analysis was characteristically lucid and impressively responsive to the fact that we live
in a sub-lunary world; abstract musings about compromise in ideal situations are sadly not relevant for
our world today. Further, Margalit's main point seems to be the right one: we humanists should treat
the protection of human dignity in the same way that the religious treat protection of the holy---as
things which cannot admit of compromise. A compromise which trades upon human dignity is, indeed, a
rotten one. Margalit is also correct in noting that justice and peace are occasionally at odds. Margalit
is no pessimist, however; he bravely offers ways in which we can make choices towards peace when a perfect
resolution to the situation is impossible.
