An Clogán: To start, could you tell us a bit about your personal and intellectual background? What led you to develop an interest in republicanism?
Philip Pettit: Being Irish, like you, the idea of republicanism was almost in my DNA. But as an overarching political philosophy, it only came to me later, long after I left Ireland. I then reconnected with some early republican writings in the Irish tradition, particularly Wolfe Tone, who I think is really a very interesting person to read.
The republicanism I grew up with in Ireland tended to be conflated with nationalism, but I see them as quite distinct. Nationalism is often rooted in a sentimental belief in the uniqueness of one’s culture, language, or country. That has always posed a problem - if every nation sees itself as special, how does one regard the nationalism of others?
That way of thinking only really emerged in 19th-century Europe. In contrast, the republican tradition - exemplified by figures like Wolfe Tone - is much more focused on the relationships between individuals, society, and the state. It emphasises the importance of enabling citizens to live as equals, without needing to "bend the knee," "tug the forelock," or toady. The core idea is that individuals should be able to look one another in the eye, free from fear or deference.
There was a “republican ethic”: you need personal courage to protect individual freedoms. But that’s not enough - you also need institutions and laws that ensure citizens are not subject to arbitrary power.
An Clogán: A lot of your work draws on recent historiographical research on republicanism, particularly scholars like J.G.A. Pocock, Quentin Skinner, and the Cambridge School of intellectual history. They traced republican thought from Renaissance Italy to the English Revolution and then to the American Revolution.
For those unfamiliar with this scholarship, could you explain what it uncovered and why it was so significant? What was new or surprising about this research that led to the revival of interest in republicanism?
Philip Pettit: John Pocock was instrumental in establishing that republicanism is a distinct and coherent intellectual tradition, stretching back to republican Rome. He showed how it influenced the high medieval and Renaissance city-states of Northern Italy - places like Venice, Florence, and Siena - before spreading to other European countries, the Polish Republic, the Dutch Republic, the short-lived English Republic, and later, the American and French Revolutions.
Ireland was very much part of that intellectual lineage. Wolfe Tone, for instance, identified strongly with both the American and French republican movements.
I would say there are three core ideas in the republican tradition. And you can already find them in Ancient Rome, in the writings of Polybius, and later in Cicero. Polybius came to Rome as a hostage, but he remained in Rome and became the great celebrator of the way Rome organised its affairs, and, in many ways, the great founder of the republican way of thinking.
The Romans described their constitution as a “res publica”: basically a “public affair”, not the affair of a single king who might tyrannize the community, so to speak. And the three core ideas that emerge in Ancient Rome, and are passed on, and evolved, as the republican tradition developed, were the concepts of freedom, a mixed constitution, and an active and involved citizenry.
The first of these - the concept of freedom or “libertas” - is distinctive to our modern understanding. It’s not just about the absence of interference, but about not being subject to the arbitrary power of another to interfere in your personal affairs. You are free only when you are not dependent on the will of another. The second concept, the mixed constitution, meant a constitutional structure that balances different sources of power to prevent tyranny. Polybius celebrated Rome for blending monarchy (the consuls), aristocracy (the Senate), and democracy (the popular assemblies). The final concept, active citizenship, meant that a republic can only survive if its citizens actively participate in governance. In republican Rome, this went beyond elections - citizens were expected to contest government decisions, challenge those in power, and hold them accountable.
These ideas were revived and reshaped throughout history. The medieval Italian republics - centres of trade and learning - helped transmit them to the rest of Europe, and the Islamic world. Young men would go to study in universities like Bologna, founded in the 12th century, and then carry republican thought back home with them. And these ideas then went on to influence the Dutch, English, American, and French republican movements.
An Clogán: I'd like to pick up on something you mentioned earlier about the mixed constitution. The standard way of understanding a mixed constitution is as a system that blends democracy with monarchy or something similar. However, from my reading of your work, that doesn’t seem to be how you interpret Polybius. You appear to suggest that Polybius saw the mixed constitution not as a combination of different forms of government, but rather as something shaped by the different classes within Rome. Would that be correct?
Philip Pettit: Yes, that is certainly how I read it. For the Romans, the mixed constitution was much broader than the way we often think of it today. In the 18th century, Montesquieu introduced the concept of a separation of powers, a regime of checks and balances, an idea rooted in Roman thought. However, over the last couple of hundred years, this concept has often been reduced to the idea of a bicameral system with a separation between the lower and upper houses, alongside an independent judiciary. But for the Romans, the mixed constitution was far more encompassing.
It was a system in which those in power had to operate on terms set by the citizens. Now, of course, we have to acknowledge that in Rome, "citizens" did not include women or the vast numbers of enslaved people. However, if we’re drawing contemporary lessons from republican ideas, we assume a more inclusive definition of citizenship.
The key idea in Rome was that government officials were held accountable through multiple channels. There was a divide between the senatorial elite and ordinary citizens. While only members of the senatorial elite could hold office, they had to be elected by the people. Elections were central to the system. Furthermore, although only those in office could propose laws, every law had to be ratified by one of several popular assemblies to take effect.
In addition, power was structured to ensure competition among officials. At every administrative level, there were multiple officeholders - two consuls at the top, all the way down to the quaestors, who managed finances, of whom there were forty in the late republic. These officials were elected independently, which created internal checks and balances. Those in power could not simply act on their own will; they had to respond to these pressures.
Beyond that, ordinary people had other ways to hold officials accountable. The courts were independent, though they functioned differently from modern courts. Protests were also a common feature of Roman political life - ordinary citizens would gather in the forum outside the Senate House and sometimes riot if they were dissatisfied. Individuals could appeal against an official’s decision to special officers called tribunes of the people, who had the power to veto those decisions. They could also appeal directly to a popular assembly.
In this way, ordinary Romans exercised substantial control over their government. Elections were held annually, reinforcing this accountability, even though the system did not always function perfectly. Nevertheless, this was the ideal of the Roman Republic.
An Clogán: One of the core principles of republicanism that you emphasise, and that is also central to Quentin Skinner’s Liberty Before Liberalism, is the concept of liberty. A key argument in your work is that republican liberty is fundamentally different from the kind of liberty found in classical liberalism. Could you elaborate on that distinction?
Philip Pettit: Initially, J.G.A. Pocock interpreted republican freedom as a form of positive liberty, using Isaiah Berlin’s terms. However, I think Pocock was mistaken, and Quentin Skinner demonstrated this through a careful analysis of key republican texts, particularly those of Machiavelli. While Machiavelli is famous for The Prince, which was written to appeal to the Medici rulers, his most significant work was actually a defence of republican ideals.
Skinner showed that republicans were not advocating positive liberty in the Berlinian sense. Instead, their concept of liberty was closer to negative liberty, meaning freedom from interference. What made republican liberty distinct, however, was the belief that this freedom could only be secured through active participation in political life - elections, contestation, and constant vigilance over the government.
I developed this idea further, arguing that freedom is not just about the absence of interference. You could be free from interference simply because those in power choose not to interfere. But if they could interfere at any moment, then you are not truly free - you are simply at their mercy. In order to be genuinely free, you must be protected from arbitrary interference. No one should have the power to dominate you, whether or not they actually exercise that power.
The Romans illustrated this idea through the figure of the slave. In one of Plautus’s plays, a slave boasts that he is freer than any Roman citizen because his master is gullible, kind, and often absent. But the audience understood the irony - he was still a slave because his master retained the power to control him at will. This concept of domination (or dominatio, in Latin) was central to the republican tradition.
True liberty, then, requires more than just a lack of interference - it requires security against interference. This applies both horizontally (between individuals) and vertically (between citizens and the state). You must have a protected sphere where you can act without needing permission from anyone. Similarly, you must be protected from arbitrary government power, meaning that laws and institutions must ensure that the state remains accountable to its citizens.
I call this freedom as non-domination, meaning that no one - whether an individual, a corporate body or the state - has unchecked power over you. This principle runs through the entire history of republicanism. For instance, Theobald Wolfe Tone, the Irish revolutionary, expressed this idea when he said that if he could only act with the permission of the authorities, then he was not truly free. Even if a government allows you to speak freely, you are not truly free if that permission can be revoked at any moment. True freedom means being protected from arbitrary power, not merely benefiting from the goodwill of those in power.
An Clogán: Continuing with this discussion on the foundations of republicanism, I’d like to return to Wolfe Tone. In the Irish context, nationalism and republicanism are often seen as synonymous. There is an obvious connection between the two, but there are also important distinctions. In Ireland, republicanism is often understood as national liberation or simply as opposition to monarchy. However, your view of republicanism goes beyond that. Could you expand on this?
Philip Pettit: The absence of a monarch was associated with republicanism from the beginning of the Roman tradition. The Republic of Rome only truly began with the overthrow of a monarch, Tarquin, who was famously expelled in the late 6th century BCE. He represented what we would call a tyrant or dictator, someone with absolute or arbitrary power. In other words, he could exercise power at his own discretion without needing approval from anyone else. Whatever laws the king chose to impose, he could enforce without opposition.
Republicanism was squarely opposed to monarchy because, under a despot - no matter how benevolent - citizens depend on the ruler’s goodwill to enjoy fair treatment and just laws. That’s why republicanism rejected monarchy as a form of government.
In England, things took a unique turn. In the 17th century, England briefly became a republic under the Commonwealth, although it was an imperfect form, as Oliver Cromwell ruled as a de facto despot for much of that period. However, the era was infused with republican ideas inherited from the Roman tradition. After the Glorious Revolution of 1688, when James II fled and William and Mary were invited to take the throne, England became infused with republican principles. From the 1690s onward - with the Act of Settlement, the Act of Union, and other reforms - rights for ordinary people expanded, although they were restricted by religion for much of the 1700’s. Elections were held frequently, resembling the Roman model, and the most prominent champions of these republican ideals were the Whigs, particularly the radical Whigs.
Interestingly, Wolfe Tone, in his early writings, described himself as a "radical Whig." This tradition of republican thinking greatly influenced the American colonists, leading to the American War of Independence. In this view, a person is not truly free if they must seek permission from a despot to exercise their personal choices - their basic liberties, as they were called - as they wish, even from a despot who is relatively tolerant. The American revolutionaries strongly rejected the concept of so-called enlightened despotism, such as that advocated by Voltaire and embodied by Frederick the Great of Prussia.
So, was this republicanism entirely anti-monarchy? Not necessarily. Montesquieu, the French philosopher, famously praised England in The Spirit of the Laws, describing it as "a republic hidden within the form of a monarchy." He saw England as a republic because, despite its monarchy, citizens - albeit limited by property, gender, and religion - had rights protected by independent courts and the common law system. The king couldn’t act without the agreement of Parliament, and while Parliament couldn’t act without the king’s approval, there was at least a system of checks and balances.
In Ireland, these republican ideas resonated as well, particularly among Protestants, as Anglicans were generally known, and dissenters like Presbyterians and Methodists. However, Wolfe Tone took republicanism a step further. Initially involved in the 1780s movement for a more powerful Irish Parliament, he later made a dramatic turn by advocating that Catholics should also enjoy these rights. This was a radical expansion of republican principles - not just for property-owning men, but beyond religious restrictions.
Tone realised that Irish men would never experience true freedom - meaning freedom from domination - until Ireland gained independence from Britain. This marked the shift where Irish republicanism became both a fight for national independence and for extending freedom to Catholics. As a result, Tone was forced to flee Ireland, initially moving to America. He lived in Princeton - where I also spend part of my time - and spoke highly of the new republic, where, as he put it, government was under the control of the people rather than serving a king’s glory. Eventually, he moved to France to support efforts against the British in Ireland.
An Clogán: On that note, there’s this contrast between republicanism as non-domination versus the more restricted idea of freedom as non-interference. I believe you’ve argued that, during the American War of Independence, those opposing American independence often used non-interference arguments.
Do you think a similar dynamic played out in Ireland during the Wolfe Tone and United Irishmen period? Did the United Irishmen emphasise non-domination, while their opponents - whether in Ireland or Britain - relied more on non-interference arguments?
Philip Pettit: Very much so. First, regarding America: The situation was paradoxical because the revolutionaries spoke of liberty while maintaining a massive enslaved population. If we set aside that contradiction for the moment, the American colonists' resistance to British taxation wasn’t merely about money.
True, Britain had taxed the colonies to cover the costs of wars against France, introducing measures like the Stamp Act, which imposed taxes on official documents. But while the colonists resisted and eventually revolted, they did so not because the tax was high, but because it was imposed without their consent. When Britain repealed the Stamp Act in 1766, it simultaneously passed the Declaratory Act, asserting its right to legislate for the colonies "in all cases whatsoever."
For the colonists, this was intolerable. Britain was essentially saying: We have the power to tax you at our discretion, but we choose not to - for now. But a master who chooses to be kind is still a master. The colonists, steeped in republican thought, rejected the idea of living under a government that could arbitrarily impose its will upon them.
Joseph Priestley, the chemist and American sympathizer, captured this sentiment perfectly when he said: “The Americans do not complain because they are taxed one penny; they complain because the power that taxes them one penny can tax them for their last penny if it wishes.” This fear of arbitrary power was at the heart of the revolution.
The same logic applied in Ireland among the intellectual circles of the 1790s republican movement. Take, for example, the Irish barrister John Philpot Curran - who was aligned with Wolfe Tone’s views. He famously said, “The price of liberty is eternal vigilance.” What he meant was that true freedom requires constant oversight of government. If the state has unchecked power - even if it exercises that power benevolently - people are not truly free. Republican freedom isn’t just about not being interfered with; it’s about ensuring that no one has the power to interfere arbitrarily in the first place.
This was the fundamental difference between the United Irishmen and their opponents. The United Irishmen wanted an independent Ireland where no external power - whether British rule or an unaccountable Irish elite - could dominate citizens. Their opponents, on the other hand, often argued from a non-interference perspective, claiming that as long as the British government wasn’t actively oppressing the Irish, there was no need for radical change.
In essence, Irish republicans sought to eliminate the possibility of interference, while their adversaries believed that occasional interference was an acceptable trade-off for stability.
An Clogán: I want to continue exploring the idea of foreign domination - one country ruling another - which was central to both the American Revolution and the 1798 United Irishmen. Richard Price, in Two Tracts on Civil Liberty (1778), argued that a country “that is subject to the legislature of another country in which it has no voice … is in a state of slavery.” This analogy between political subjugation and slavery is a core theme in republican writing.
Though some claim republicanism went through two “dark ages”, first after the fall of Rome and again, more recently, with the rise of liberalism, I think that’s too simplistic. While liberalism dominated Britain and America, republican ideas thrived in 19th and 20th-century France, Italy, Spain, and Ireland, and influenced many anti-colonial movements worldwide.
Ireland, in particular, connects 18th- and 19th-century republicanism to 20th-century anti-imperialism. The first Dáil’s “Message to the Free Nations of the World”, which called for “the control of government in every land upon the basis of the free will of a free people” - a sentiment echoed by American revolutionaries and later anti-imperialist leaders across Africa, Latin America, and Asia.
Do you see a continuity between republicanism and 20th-century calls for self-government based on “the free will of a free people”?
Philip Pettit: I think we can consider this in two ways. There’s domestic freedom, which refers to individuals being secure from domination by others within a country. This means that citizens have a guaranteed range of choices over their own lives and collectively control their government on a relatively egalitarian basis. We might call this a domestic republic.
Then, as Richard Price emphasised, there’s international freedom, where a country is not subjected to external domination. Even without direct interference, if one country has power over another, the latter must constantly act with deference to keep the stronger power appeased. This form of subjugation was central to the American Revolution: the colonists argued that true domestic freedom was impossible without independence from Westminster. The same argument resonated in the Irish tradition - Wolf Tone, for example, realised in the 1790s that Irish people, whether Protestant or Catholic, could not enjoy real freedom while ruled from London. The failure of Grattan’s Parliament demonstrated this. On paper, it was a significant step forward, but in practice, it did not grant true independence, even to Irish Protestants.
So, Tone shifted from a radical Whig perspective - seeking reform within the British system - to advocating full independence. This idea persisted through the 19th century and gained further momentum. However, one unfortunate shift occurred: the concept of independence became focused almost exclusively on national sovereignty rather than on ensuring freedom within nations. Many movements for independence retained the republican rhetoric of self-rule while neglecting the internal structures necessary for a genuinely free society.
An Clogán: I’d like to shift focus to the issue of equality within republics. A persistent question in republican thought is how to reconcile equality among citizens with the unequal status of non-citizens.
Historically, many prominent republics - Greece, Rome, and the early United States - were slave societies that also engaged in the domination of foreign peoples. This suggests that republicanism does not necessarily imply a universal commitment to human equality but rather a more restricted form of equality - one that applies only to citizens.
This issue extends beyond ancient history. For example, John Mitchel, a leader of the Young Ireland movement in 1848, became a staunch supporter of the Confederacy after his exile in the U.S. His writings defended slavery and colonialism while simultaneously advocating a form of republicanism rooted in classical ideals.
How do you think republicanism can address this challenge? Is the exclusion of non-citizens an inherent flaw in the tradition, or is there a way to reconcile republican principles with a broader commitment to equality?
Philip Pettit: Cicero famously said, “There is no freedom without equality among citizens.” His point was that unless people are relatively equal, some will inevitably have power over others. Even if they choose not to abuse that power, the very fact that they could means that true freedom does not exist. Republican freedom, therefore, requires that no citizen be subject to the arbitrary will of another.
However, historically, republican societies did not question who should count as a citizen. Greece, Rome, and much of the Western tradition developed in cultures that took gender and racial hierarchies for granted. This led to the exclusion of women and enslaved people from full citizenship.
Women, of course, began challenging this as early as the 17th and 18th centuries. Mary Astell, for instance, argued that if men should not be subject to arbitrary power, why should women be subject to their husbands? Later, Mary Wollstonecraft made a similar case, demanding equal status for women within the republic.
Slavery, too, was justified on the false assumption that enslaved people were incapable of full citizenship. Many early 19th-century Americans believed African Americans were unfit for self-rule, just as they thought women were. But this was simply wrong. Republicanism itself does not inherently exclude anyone - it simply depends on how we define citizenship.
Once we reject the outdated assumptions about gender, race, and other artificial distinctions, republican principles demand equal freedom for all. In my view, this should extend to all adult, permanent residents of a society. While historical republicans often failed in this regard, the core principles of non-domination and self-rule can and should be expanded to include everyone.
An Clogán: Continuing on the theme of equal citizenship, the United Irishmen were primarily Protestants, but unlike in America, where citizenship was tied to a dominant ethnic group, the United Irishmen explicitly aimed to create a nation where all people, regardless of ethnicity, could be equal citizens. Wolfe Tone famously said, “To unite the whole people of Ireland, to abolish the memory of all past dissension and to substitute the common name of Irishman in place of the denominations of Protestant, Catholic and Dissenter.” Could you speak about how this republican vision, with its approach to racial, religious, and ethnic diversity, compares with that of the American founding fathers, particularly their defence of slavery, exclusion of women, and exclusion of Native Americans?
Philip Pettit: I think that’s a question for someone more historically informed than I am, but it’s worth emphasising that in America, many different religious sects existed onthe protestant side - dissenting, for example, as well as Anglican - and it was partly in an effort to heal rifts between these sects that Americans strongly pursued freedom of religion. Many American Protestants were dissenters and had often been suppressed by the government. They wanted equal citizenship among themselves, as other Protestants, which led to the development of religious freedom. This gradually extended to Catholics as immigration increased after 1800. It’s important to note that the American founders were not particularly concerned about Catholics, as most of their society was Protestant, but they subscribed to a doctrine that naturally allowed for Catholics to be enfranchised. Wolfe Tone, on the other hand, was ahead of his time. He grasped the challenge of including Catholics as equals in a way that was not automatic, especially considering the centuries-old Protestant view of Catholics as subjects of a foreign power, Rome. Tone’s arguments for Catholic enfranchisement were radical, especially when you remember that it was still 30 years before the formal emancipation of Catholics in England in 1829.
An Clogán: About 100 years later, in the north of Ireland, where you did your PhD, you had the Civil Rights Movement. It involved a religious minority, an ethnic minority, or perhaps a national minority in a state designed as a Protestant state for a Protestant people. How might republican theory address the situation in Northern Ireland, particularly in terms of moving forward in such a context?
Philip Pettit: I was, of course, familiar with this situation, and I think the key mistake was in how people like Terence O’Neill and others tried to address the issue. O’Neill was somewhat middle of the road. He proposed reforms, but they were too slow. Unfortunately, there was little recognition among those insisting on more rapid reforms of how divisive it was when people marched through many small towns, splitting Catholic and Protestant communities. People from both sides were forced back into their own circles. When marches were attacked by Paisley’s gangs and the police stood aside, it led to more tension and violence. And it was in response to that development that the Provisional IRA formed, initially to defend Catholic areas. While the conflict in the first place was about equal rights for Catholics in Northern Ireland, it soon escalated, spiralling into the tragic events of the 1970s, 80s, and 90s.
An Clogán: I want to continue on this question of inequality among citizens and republicanism and relate it specifically to capitalism and socialism. As you're likely aware, this is a significant issue in the history of republicanism, especially in recent academic literature. In Ireland, socialist republicanism is a major political tradition. We can think, of course, of James Connolly, who framed his socialist politics explicitly through a republican framework. But this tradition continued throughout the 20th century with figures like Peadar O'Donnell and Frank Ryan. When people talk about Clann na Poblachta, they often focus on figures like Sean McBride and Noel Brown, but if you look at other leaders like Sighle Humphreys, Peadar Cowan, and Mick Fitzpatrick, you’ll see that their republican politics were also deeply rooted in a socialist, anti-capitalist framework. Since the 1960s, every significant wing of the Irish republican movement has, at least in principle, been committed to a socialist republic.
But socialist republicanism isn't only an Irish phenomenon - there's a lot of academic work on this now. Scholars like William Clare Roberts, Alex Gourevitch, Bruno Leipold, and Tom O’Shea are all pointing to a rethinking of socialist politics grounded in republicanism. I was wondering if you could share your thoughts on the work of these scholars and their attempts to root anti-capitalist socialist politics in republican philosophy.
Philip Pettit: I’d say I’m deeply sympathetic to their work. It's worth noting that, historically, the great cry of mid-19th century European socialism was "wage slavery" - the idea that working as a wage labourer in an industrial setting was akin to being a slave, a “wage slave” as opposed to a chattel slave. This comes from the republican tradition, as you mentioned earlier, where the idea of domination was vividly illustrated through slavery. The slave was subject to the master's will in every aspect of their life, and even if the master was gentle, the slave was still unfree. This notion has carried over into socialist politics. Scholars like those you mention have traced this historical connection, and I admire their work greatly.
If you believe, as republicans do, that everyone should enjoy the status of an undominated citizen, then you'll naturally worry about the inequalities produced by the capitalist system. But what is socialism? If you define socialism as the state taking over the means of production and centrally controlling them, I think few people still advocate for that kind of socialism today. The historical experiences of the last century have shown us that it's not a great idea. As for capitalism, it’s a system that allows private ownership, trade, and the accumulation of wealth. A free market, including in finance, opens up great possibilities and fosters innovation, as seen in technological advancements like the internet. However, it’s a very dangerous system because it leads to the accumulation of wealth and power, as we see with figures like Elon Musk, who became very wealthy by a mix of talent and fortune, and now seeks to influence entire countries through his media ownership. This concentration of power is objectionable from a republican standpoint.
How do we address this kind of control? The state might need to assert itself against such control, but it should be a state that is controlled itself by ordinary people, with active citizen involvement in holding the state accountable. This is just one example of how capitalism produces abuses that are fundamentally at odds with republicanism.
Another example, which I've focused on in my recent work, is the relationship between employers and employees. In America, for instance, union membership has dwindled, leaving workers atomized and powerless against their corporate employers. Unions are crucial for workers to have a collective voice. But beyond the decline of unions, there are troubling developments like the "at-will" employment doctrine and non-compete clauses, which tie workers to their jobs and restrict their ability to seek new employment. These measures make workers dependent in a way similar to how tenants were dependent on landlords in earlier centuries. This dynamic weakens workers’ freedom, a theme at the core of a forthcoming volume, Workplace Republicanism, with contributions from lawyers and political scientists as well as philosophers.
An Clogán: In your book Just Freedom, you give the ability of an employer to prevent an employee from voting as an example of social domination. Even if an employee persuades their employer to let them vote, they’re still subject to the employer’s will, and thus not truly free. I think this aligns with the work of Elizabeth Anderson in her book Private Government, where she discusses how employers have vast powers over their employees, for example by dictating what they can wear, how they present themselves, and even putting pressure on them about their political choices. This type of control, if exercised by the government, would be seen as tyrannical. Yet in the context of employment, it’s often viewed as just the norm.
Although not all employers exercise this control, the fact that they can is indicative of a system of domination. The fact that employers often don’t interfere with their employees' lives doesn’t mean employees are free - it actually suggests a condition of subservience. Do you agree with this interpretation, or am I taking it too far?
Philip Pettit: I would sign up to all of that. I absolutely agree with you. You put the problem very well. I'm not sure I want to try to improve on what you've just said.
An Clogán: Right, extending that point - you know, we can think of the worker-employer relationship as quite personal, like the boss telling you who to vote for or what colour you're allowed to dye your hair. But I was wondering if there's also a broader, more impersonal sense of dominance? For instance, if a worker becomes unemployed, is there an argument that the unemployed worker is in a position of subservience to employers in general due to the need for employment? It's not a personal relationship, but rather an impersonal, structural position of subordination and domination. So, I’m curious - how can this be thought of in terms of your theory of republicanism and non-domination?
Philip Pettit: Well, there are various things that are matters of natural necessity. One is that most of us have to try to make a living. We're not dominated by that natural fact any more than we're dominated by the fact that we live in a world with gravity, for example. It's just something we have to live with. But it does create a context within which we establish social relations. The natural vulnerability of having to make a living means that most of us must seek employment in the world as it currently exists. The mere fact that we have to seek employment doesn’t mean we’re dominated - not at all. We are dominated, however, when we seek employment and, when employed, we’re subject to arbitrary or discretionary power on the part of an employer. This can apply to a personal employer or, more typically, a corporate employer operating through managers.
Now, in between the natural necessity and the interpersonal domination, there’s another layer. For example, if there’s a system where employers have the freedom to fire employees at will, no employer will give this up. And this leads to impersonal domination. The structure itself, while it may not be anyone's direct will, facilitates the domination of the individual who must seek employment. The natural necessity means you need to seek employment, and the structure - like the "fire-at-will" rule - ensures that, wherever you're employed, you're in a position where you're somewhat at the mercy of the employer. Even if the employer is kind and doesn’t fire you at will, they still have the power to do so. This means you’re already dominated. You shouldn’t have to rely on the goodwill of others for decent treatment; you need to be secured against being treated indecently. But that opens up a whole issue on workers' rights and what they should enjoy in the workplace - an issue that we probably can’t explore just now.
An Clogán: Finally, I was just wondering, given your background - being from Galway, living in Belfast before the Troubles, and your career focusing on republicanism - you’ve written relatively little about Irish republicanism. Was that a conscious choice, or did your interests mainly revolve around philosophical questions?
Philip Pettit: Well, my primary interest is philosophical. I got drawn into the history of republicanism through figures like Quentin Skinner, who recommended a whole range of texts. I started reading them and slowly got into the historical side of things. But I’m more of a consumer of history rather than a producer. I’d consider myself a constructive consumer, meaning I may occasionally put a personal spin on the history I consume, but I’m mainly a philosophical thinker. And I should say, republicanism is only part of my work. From a philosophical standpoint, the period I find most interesting is the late 18th century, the 1790s, before nationalism becomes such a major force. After that, the focus shifts from individual freedom to national freedom, and nations are seen almost as sacred objects. This is very much influenced by Romanticism.
If I haven’t written about Irish republicanism, it’s because I don’t feel I have the expertise of a historian, and so I don’t think I’d contribute much to the history of Irish republicanism. The Irish republican writings I know best are the earlier ones, and I completely endorse them.
Philip Pettit (b. 1945, Ballygar, Co. Galway) is widely regarded as one of the world's most influential political philosophers working today. He holds the Laurance S. Rockefeller University Professorship of Human Values at Princeton University and a Distinguished Professorship at the Australian National University. His book Republicanism: A Theory of Freedom and Government (1997) is considered a landmark in contemporary political philosophy. His work has played a central role in reviving the republican intellectual tradition and renewing debates about freedom as non-domination.