x_filesize')); // Sort image tag $OC_sortImg = 'current sort selection'; ?> ࡱ>  @ >bjbjVV "r<r<dddxXXX8DD6$$"FFFFFF6666666$X7R9'6-FF--'6FF<6u5u5u5-LFF6u5-6u5u5u5F *bX1u554R606u5:3:u5:u5XF*p#u5 '*FFF'6'6Y5ABSTRACT: While Josiah Royce championed loyalty as a way of life, recent feminist scholarship, such as that of Lisa Tessman in Burdened Virtues (2005), argues that in the face of such exigencies as oppression or violence, the need of loyalty is marginalized or else removed altogether, for one cannot be said to be loyal to a group if one calls into question or undermines its basis for existence (Tessman, 149). While the context of community would seem the natural setting for the flowering of loyalty, when community is strained by deep conflict or injustice, the role of loyalty is rendered unclear. This essay furnishes a Roycean response to this difficulty, arguing that while loyalty may exist in the absence of burden, it is in its presence that loyalty is most needed and therefore most important. It is revealed that Royces thought about loyalty and community provides rich resources for those engaged in liberatory struggle. (150 words) Loyalty at a Crossroads: Roycean Resources for Liberatory Struggle 1: Introduction: Burdened Virtue The importance of loyalty in the thought of Josiah Royce is perhaps best summarized by John E. Smith: Loyalty had for [Royce] an absolutely basic importance and it was capable of being expressed in many ways all of which lead to the founding of some particular community. Such community provided an admirable solution to his deepest ethical problems because it includes not only individual self-realization through the carrying out of some concrete duty, but it unites persons beyond divisive tensions and conflicts in a common loyalty to a cause which transcends them all. Self-realization and moral living profound possibilities for individuals and communities alike in the context of what Smith dubs the social infinite are, without loyalty, irremediably impossible. In a recent book-length examination of the relationship between virtue ethics and liberatory struggle, Lisa Tessman discusses several burdened virtues, virtues that are costly to those bearing them particularly, those who are engaged in liberatory struggle. Given the supposedly eudaimonistic nature of virtues embodying them is thought to be conducive to the well-being of the moral agent the notion of virtues engendering burden for those bearing them is problematic. Among these burdened virtues is that of loyalty. According to Tessman, while loyalty is a virtue that is praised in oppositional movements, it is also heavily burdened. Because loyalty forbids actions aimed at undermining the existence of the object of loyalty, or in Royces terms, ones cause, those engaged in liberatory struggle find themselves caught between the felt need of criticizing and dissenting from their cause their community and the felt need of upholding and preserving this cause. While one may maintain loyalty to ones community while adopting a critical stance, effectively becoming what Tessman terms a loyal critic, far from enjoying conciliatory stasis, loyal critics face the prospect of shouldering heavy burdens: [T]hey may find themselves tied to a community whose practices reflect internal dynamics of dominance and subordination, or they may belong to the community only uncomfortably, for their critical activities will tend to alienate them from other community members. Maintaining a critical stance either leaves one burdened by ties to a problematic object of loyalty or makes group loyalty as a virtue entirely unavailable. The burden of loyalty in times of liberatory struggle calls us to ask whether loyalty ought to be valued as ultimately as Royce values it. Even if we concede Royces view of loyalty as necessary toward becoming a self and, indeed, a moral self, we may doubt that loyalty is required or even relevant in critiquing or overhauling the conditions under which ones being moral and otherwise is sustained. In the face of such exigencies as oppression or violence, we might find that the need of loyalty is marginalized or else removed altogether, for one cannot be said to be loyal to a group if one calls into question or undermines its basis for existence. While the context of community would seem the natural setting for the flowering of loyalty, when community is strained by deep conflict or injustice, the role of loyalty is rendered unclear. In this essay, I address the problem raised by Tessman through the lenses of Royces philosophy of loyalty, particularly as it concerns community. I suggest that Royce would embrace Tessmans description of loyalty as a burdened virtue, maintaining that despite its burden, loyalty is vital to all communities, whatever shifts in their constitution might arise. In fact, for Royce, this burden or in his terms, this struggle is itself vital to the flowering of loyalty. While loyalty may exist in the absence of burden, it is in the presence of burden that loyalty is most needed and therefore most important. This burden most dramatically presents itself in the context of community, particularly at times characterized by conflict and upheaval. 2: Burdened Loyalty in Royces California In 1886, Josiah Royces history of the state of California was published. According to John Clendenning, Royce saw the upheavals of early California history as parables that might teach philosophic truth. On Clendennings account, several of the historical episodes described and discussed by Royce in California dramatize the issues which Royce would later raise in The Philosophy of Loyalty and The Problem of Christianity. Kevin Starr makes a similar connection of California to Royces subsequent writings, stating that as Royce probed with more and more profundity the nature of human community, the memory of his earlier experiences in California rose to consciousness, entering into the composition of his theory of Provincialism. In fact, the year following the publication of Provincialism in Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, Royce published a short essay by the title, Provincialism: Based Upon a Study of Early Conditions of California, in which Clendennings and Starrs remarks find corroboration. There, Royce reveals that the frontier social life of California was the struggle for and toward a provincial consciousness and that the winning of the Westhas been the history of the formation of local institutions, the tale of the rise of local traditions and of local loyalty. One also observes that Royce includes An Episode of Early California Life: The Squatter Riot of 1850 in Sacramento in his Studies of Good and Evil. In a Preliminary Note to the essay in its appearance in that text, Royce defends his decision to include it among his studies of good and evil, holding that if the affair here in question is one of local history, the passions, the social forces, and the essential ideas concerned, are of permanent significance. Such incidents as those described in this vignette of his history of California may seem petty, local, transient, accidental, but their meaning is permanent, and they will recur, over and over, and perhaps on a constantly grander and grander scale, as long as our national history lasts. It was Royces hope that we might learn from the past in order to effectively meet obstacles that we would confront in the future. If we pair the observations of Clendenning and Starr, and add to them Royces own pronouncements, we may reasonably claim to detect a thread running through Royces moral thought, as represented by writings spanning his corpus. There is clearly in Royces thought a sustained concern for the relation between individual and community, marked by a vested interest in learning from and attempting to overcome to whatever degree possible the moral entanglements with which they are ineluctably afflicted. Royces history of California is consistent with this thematic trend. There and elsewhere, Royces philosophy of loyalty presents itself sometimes latently and other times explicitly as integral to the enterprise of coping with moral problems. California was full of Jonahs, writes Royce, whose modest and possibly unprophetic duties had lain in their various quiet paths at home. They had found out how to escape all these duties, at least for the moment, by fleeing over seas and deserts. The California gold rush brought many newcomers to California in the years between 1848 and 1856. The primary interest of these sojourners undoubtedly was to stumble upon financial security or affluence, obtainable in the form of gold. With the search for gold as the focus of the miner, the effort to assimilate to the ways of native Californians went ignored. Immediately, one senses the imminence of Royces first evil. Perhaps owing in part to this lack of effort, Royce characterizes this group as a community of irresponsible strangers. The irresponsibility of the community, however, reaches far beyond its disfavor for assimilation. Because they sought wealth and ignored social order, they neglected their duties as freemen, as citizens, and as brethren among brethren. In other words, they neglected their duty to be loyal. Royce would later describe the situation as follows: [N]obody regarded his customs or his dialect or his ideals as especially fitting to this new community. Ones memories, and usually ones hopes, lay elsewhere. One owed at first no loyalty to the place, or to its social order. Ones heart and ones social ideals, if one had such, generally clung to the old home. One meant, by lucky mining, to collect quickly the means to pay off the mortgage on the New England farm, or to make a fortune wherewith to grow old in ones native placeHome was not here. If home was not here, then one did not feel bound to ones place, spatially or morally. One could go where one felt and feel no compunction about doing so. Loyalty was simply not an operative concept. Two very familiar errors exist concerning the California of the years between 1848 and 1856, Royce claims, both misconceptions of the era of the struggle for order. One of these errors will have it that, on the whole, there was no struggle; while the other affirms that, on the whole, there was no order. Both struggle and order obtained during those times, however, and Royces concern is to tell the stories of both. Although the miner was primarily interested in gold, not social order, if the nature of the place permitted steady work, men must prepare to dwell together in numbers, and for a long period. Thus, the vital problem of the communitys finding itself, the problem of creating a province, of converting a frontier into a rational social ordercould not be postponed or neglected, for [t]he conditions of the frontier made the problem pressing, unavoidable. Governments were organized quickly and were at least temporarily effective. Councils of miners met to decide disputes, brief codes of laws were drafted, accused crimes were met with (typically juried) trial, and those found guilty of crimes were met with punishment. According to Royce, the willingness to compromise matters in dispute was highly instrumental toward the achievement of order in the mining camp. If not for the democratic procedures of the little republic, a peaceable spirit such as that enjoyed by the mining communities could never have come to exist. Equally helpful was the good-humor displayed by individuals in their interactions with one another. That individuals were on pleasant terms with one another in public affected a general avoidance of disturbances in that sphere. Still, Royce insists, this is only a partial picture of the life of the mining community. This order was unstable, since it had not been won as a prize of social devotion, but only attained by a sudden feat of instinctive cleverness. Because voluntary devotion was not a feature of these ordered mining communities, they were not at all secure form corruption from within. If the evolution of disorder can be traced to a lack of social devotion, then it can be said that Royces second evil was very much a presence in the mining communities. The order that obtained among these communities was hollow, a mere levelling tendency toward an avoidance of conflict. The evil in this tendency lies not in its end, but in its means. Avoidance of conflict stands a strong chance of perpetuation if performed by strong-willed individuals who confer upon it value and honor, working toward it consciously and persistently. In the case of the mining communities, however, order was fated to be temporary, for it was not itself cherished as an object to be held securely. Levelling tendencies give way to new levelling tendencies, and with no positive effort to preserve order, there was no strong defense against the emerging tendency to disorder. The California newspapers of 1850, 1851, and 1852 generallyshow us two things, says Royce: first that the miners justice was not usually sharply distinguished from mob law, even in the minds of those concerned in it; and secondly that, in the concrete instances of the use of miners justice, we can discover all possible gradations, from the most formal, calm, and judicial behavior or a healthy young camp, driven by momentary necessity to defend itself against outrage, down to the most abominable exhibitions of brutal popular passion, or even of private vengeance. The two things shown to us by the California newspapers, then, are the presence of mob spirit in the California mining communities and its manifestation in miner law. Royce gives ample description of the mob spirit of miner law in The Struggle for Order. To treat his entire account would be impractical here. It is largely for this reason that I will refer only to his section entitled, Miners Justice in Action Characteristic Scenes and Incidents. In this section, Royce discusses the lynching that was a feature of popular justice in the mines. He takes care to dispel commonly accepted notions of the mining camp as especially delighted in its lynching parties, and that went about them with all the jovial ferocity of young tigers at play that was at the time so easily persuaded by sentimental considerations that a timely offer of drinks, a good joke, or far better still, an ingenious display of ruggedly pathetic eloquence, might suffice to turn the court aside from its dangerous undertakings. The lynching scenes were, in actuality, far from jocund and were not readily quelled. Good humor and sentimentalism had little import with mining communities induced with mob spirit, with a mind determined to right wrongs. Flogging and death were the two penalties for theft in California mining communities. The severity of these punishments can only be attributed to the highly charged emotional reaction the crime provoked. Theft of anothers gold, supplies, or other possessions undermined the order of the community. Lynching was implemented, says Royce, for the sake of satisfying a momentary popular passion, aroused against the forces of disorder. Just because the miner was accustomed to be so tolerant and easy-going, these moments of the outburst of popular fury found him, whether orderly or not, in all typical cases, merciless, deaf to all pathetic appeals, unconscious of anything save the immediate public necessity. With regard to the practice of lynching, the mining communities undoubtedly exhibited mob spirit. Still, it should be noted that considerations were made on the part of these communities with regard to the humaneness of their penalties. Indeed, lynching was viewed as more humane than flogging, for it resulted in the relatively quick end of the life of the thief, rather than the extended punishment of 150 lashes and banishment from the community. Because a dead thief steals no more, lynching was also perceived as more efficient than flogging, for a thief flogged and banished from a community was thought likely to appear elsewhere and continue his roguery, vengeful at the violent beating that he suffered. Mob spirit took its toll as an evil by infecting the popular conscience of the mining communities. Royce characterizes this conscience as debased by the physical brutality of the business such that so soon as the lynching habit was once established, this conscience was put to sleep by a false self-confidence, engendered of the ease wherewith justice seemed in such cases to be vindicated. The widespread practice of lynching, then, was more detrimental to the mining communities than it was beneficial. In fact, claims Royce, the mining society made itself the friend and upholder of the very roguery that it flogged and hanged. The mining society was made an ally with the thieves for whom it felt contempt in its neglect to create, among other things, a stable public headed by worthy officers. Submissive to mob spirit, camps were their own judges, juries, and executioners. And so long as [the society] flogged and hanged in this rude popular way, it could not be convinced of its errors, but ever and anon, after one of these popular outbursts of vengeance, it raised its blood-stained hands in holy horror at crime, lamenting the fate that would doubtless force it still in future to continue its old business of encouraging bloodshed. Due to the hypnotism of mob spirit, there was no self-discipline. The individuals comprising the community were uncritical and careless, so long as thieves, when caught, received their due. This careless attitude only exacerbated the condition of the community, however, for rogues found encouragement in a loosely structured government and a speciously secure public. It would not be until mob spirit and its penchant for lynching subsided that roguery would cease to be a thorn in the side of the mining communities: [T]he mining population was, at the start, a prevailingly peaceful one, which settled its disputes at regular miners meetings, by the method of the town meeting. Its disorderly stages were acquired social diseases, due to the lack of any settled community consciousness, due to the absence of loyalty on the part of the individual in his relation to his town and to his State. Because the provincial consciousness was lacking, the community tended to a rapid degeneration into a disorderly state. Degeneration and disorder, as debilitating forces as they were, did have a positive result for the mining communities. This effect, says Royce, lay in the very horror begotten by the popular demoralization that all this violence tended to produce. While levelling tendencies and mob spirit did not fully diminish, the majority of every mining community learned from the fearful effects of their own irresponsible freedom. As Royce details, the mining communities soon grew orderly, forming stable town governments that condemned the very evils to which they had formerly fallen prey. Making way for the conservative and orderly communities of later mining days, the romantic degradation of the early mining life, with its transient glory, its fatal fascination, its inevitable brutality, and its resulting loathsome corruption was in some sense, then, quite valuable. As Royce stipulates, however, its value lies only in its ability to excite in the minds of sensible men a horror of its own disorderly atrocities. Of course, this excitation is not enough on its own; it must lead to ameliorative action. In the case of the mining communities, the successes and failures of their early lives were capable of provoking this excitation and promoting improvement in their social condition. Royce ends his account by telling us the lesson that can be learned from the experiences of the mining communities: the moral elasticity of our people is so great, their social vitality so marvelous, that a community of Americans could sin as fearfully as, in the early years, the mining community did sin, and could yet purify itself within so short a time, not by a revolution, but by a simple progress from social foolishness to social steadfastness. As Royce sees it, the story of the California mining communities is one of sin and atonement. That is, the period of disorder in California is comparable to a sin, while struggle toward the attainment of order is akin to the long process of washing the sin by its own hands. Indeed, for Royce, this swiftly acquired provincial consciousness, despite its incidental narrowness, was indeed the salvation of California. Thus Royce writes, Even thus a great river, for an hour defiled by some corrupting disturbance, purifies itself, merely through its own flow, over its sandy bed, beneath the wide and sunny heavens. Moreover, whatever our social ills, however difficult our present or future problems, we have learned one lesson namely, that in the formation of a loyal local consciousness, in a wise provincialism, lies the way towards social salvation. That Royce understands the story of the California mining communities in terms of sin, atonement, and salvation should not be passed over. Sin, atonement, and salvation figure significantly as themes in his treatment of community in The Problem of Christianity. Moreover, the language of sin, atonement, and salvation must be regarded as the language of burden and the process of its relief. Sin is inherently corrosive of the character of the sinner. Atonement, while restorative, often exacts sustained and strenuous effort. Salvation, as an end of atonement, not only exacts sustained and strenuous effort but stands as a distant if not ultimately unreachable destination. We augment our account of Royces awareness of the burden of loyalty by turning to The Problem of Christianity. 3: Burdened Loyalty in Royces The Problem of Christianity In The Problem of Christianity, Royce engages three ideas central to Christianity, which he believes to offer an accurate description of the human situation and a promising vision for its salvation. The first of these ideas is the Universal Community, the idea of a spiritual life in which universal love for all individuals shall be completely blended, practically harmonized, with an absolute loyalty for a real and universal community. Crucial to the present discussion is how the other two ideas the moral burden of the individual and atonement affect the sustenance and flourishing of the Universal Community. According to Christian doctrine, the individual human being is by nature subject to an overwhelming moral burden from which, if unaided, one cannot escape. This burden is at once a natural inheritance and a burden of personal guilt. Royce echoes Pauls observations in the seventh chapter of his epistle to the Romans: sinfulness belongs to our elemental nature, to our flesh as it is at birth;sin is not cured but increased by cultivation;our sinfulness belongs not to especially defective or degenerate sinners, but to the race in its corporate capacity. Royce interprets the first point as implying that being as to the flesh what we are, that is, being essentially social animals, moral cultivation, if successful, can only make us aware of our sinfulness. The second point is seen when one attempts to overcome sin through moral cultivation, for ones individualism (upon being taught independence and self-reliance) wars with ones collectivism (upon being taught the need for obedience to the social will), resulting in further entanglement in confusion and continued inability to overcome sin. The third point emphasizes that this situation is universal; nobody can escape spiritual ruin without divine assistance. This divine assistance comes with membership in the Universal Community. Pauls doctrine, Royce explains, is that salvation comes through loyaltyloyalty (which is the love of a community conceived as a person on a level superior to that of any human individual) loyalty and the devotion of the self to the cause of the community loyalty, is the only cure for the natural warfare of the collective and of the individual will a warfare which no moral cultivation without loyalty can ever end, but which all cultivation, apart from such devoted and transforming love of the community, only inflames and increases[.] Through love of the Universal Community, then, the spirit of this community becomes ones own. Salvation comes through expressions of this love, for one sheds ones natural wayward self for a selfhood enlivened by simultaneous self-expression and self-sacrifice as a loyal member of the Universal Community. According to Christian doctrine, the only escape for the burdened individual, the only union with the divine spiritual community that one can obtain, is provided by the divine plan for the redemption of mankind, a plan that includes atonement for the sins and for the guilt of mankind. Royce focuses on the problem of the traitor as a typical case of the need for atonement. The traitor has had an ideal, andhas loved it with all his heart and his soul and his mind and his strengthHe must have embraced itwith full loyalty. At the same time, the traitor knows that he has, in at least some one voluntary act of his life, been deliberately false to, or betrayed, his cause. Because human action is irrevocable, no good deeds of the traitors future will ever so atone for the act of treason such that the action is nullified. Because the stain of sin can never be cleanly washed away, atonement for the traitor must involve instead conferring a new value to the act of treason. The traitor, however, cannot do this alone. Because he has, by his deed, destroyed the community in whose life and in whose spirit he had found his guide and ideal, the shattered community must also reconcile itself to the deed, and to the traitor who committed it. Like the traitor, the community can never be restored to its former purity of unscarred love. So, after it lovingly mourns with a sorrow for its loss, the community or a steadfastly loyal servant who acts, so to speak, as the incarnation of the very spirit of the community itself must bring out of the realm of death a new life that only this very death rendered possible. Thus, the atoning agents perform a deed or various deeds for which only the traitors treason furnishes the opportunity, giving the occasion and supplying the condition of the atoning deed(s). As a result, all may say, The world, as transformed by this creative deed, is better than it would have been had all else remained the same, but had that deed of treason not been done at all. Royce finds this theory of atonement at work in Genesis: Treason did its work (so the legend runs) when man fell. But Christs work was so perfect that, in a perfectly objective way, it took the opportunity which mans fall furnished to make the world better than it could have been had man not fallen. Summarizing his discussion of atonement on the heels of his interpretation of Genesis, Royce formulates the central postulate of the human communitys highest spirituality: No baseness or cruelty of treason so deep or so tragic shall enter our human world, but that loyal love shall be able in due time to oppose to just that deed of treason its fitting deed of atonement. To summarize, The Problem of Christianity adds at least three more crucial pieces to the picture of the relationship of loyalty and community in the thought of Royce. These pieces come in the form of the concepts of the Universal Community, the moral burden of the individual, and atonement. In considering each, we find significant burden incumbent upon the individual who strives to be loyal to community. It is by no means easy and in fact, apparently impossible to sustain loyalty to the Universal Community without being guilty of a moral failing symptomatic of the moral burden of the individual, and again by no means easy to carry out the process of atonement whether one has sinned or been sinned against. All the same, the labor of the loyal is a labor of love. Commenting on Royces conception of the resilience of the loyal, C. Hannah Schell writes, Buoyed, and focused, by loyalty, the loyal agent knows what it means to redouble efforts, in the face of loss or betrayal, toward achieving an ideal. The burden of loyalty is no intractable obstacle; ultimately, it serves to reinforce loyalty already present and inspire more fervent loyalty in its train. 5: Conclusion: Loyalty and Liberatory Struggle A main motivation of this essay was Tessmans worry that in times of liberatory struggle, loyalty becomes a burdened virtue. So far, in expositing Royces treatment of the burden of loyalty, I have focused on the struggle associated with maintaining perfervid loyalty in the face of various kinds of burdens while situated within the context of community. The burdens placed upon the shoulders of both the California gold mining communities and the Pauline community of Christianity, are the burdens incumbent upon us all. If our communal life is to be characterized by order, stability, and growth, we must accept responsibility for these burdens and work wisely and loyally to cultivate healthy, flourishing communities. Still, with these pronouncements we may not have entirely allayed Tessmans worry. Indeed, at this juncture, it appears that only half of her worry may be vanquished. This is the first of two stumbling blocks regarding loyalty that she concludes political resisters may face: when they are loyal to a group that calls for critique but not deconstruction, they are burdened with a commitment to a community that may still do significant damage to their selves (because the community has not yet been critically transformed in ways that would reduce its internal dynamics of domination and subordination) and with the hardships of always being a critic, never fully belonging as a comfortably accepted member. A Roycean account of the burden of loyalty addresses this problem by acknowledging the burden of commitment of critique as for, instance, in the case of the community under the sway of mob mentality, or a community that has lost sight of its membership in the Universal Community and insisting that loyal commitment to the well-being of the community is most needed and thus most valuable at precisely these times. It is true that being a critic comes with hardship and that always being one may result in never feeling that one belongs comfortably as an accepted member. One must remember, however, that living well and acting rightly need not be compatible with being accepted. Indeed, in many cases, the former is achieved at the expense of the latter. Tessman spells out a second stumbling block of loyalty for political resisters, however, which I have not yet adequately addressed: when political resisters consider loyalty to communities that as their own critical judgments may lead them to believe would better be deconstructed, they find not that they are saddled with loyalty as a burdened virtue, but rather that loyalty becomes unavailable as a virtue. In these cases disloyalty is morally prescribed. Imagining an individual whose community is plagued by each of the three evils described by Royce, and whose passionate pleas for wise provincialism continually go ignored or are hostilely attacked, one appreciates the scenario Tessman envisages. It appears, however, that a Roycean response to this problem may be crafted. Concerned with feminists engaged in liberatory struggle, Kara E. Barnette finds value in Royces description of the traitor: A traitor has the important role of forcing the community to atone, and in this way bettering the community indirectly from his or her treachery. The traitor also serves to highlight the important role of choice and loyalty within community members, crystallizing Royces notion that the community is never a purely accidental occurrenceBy providing a model of a traitor whose sins against the community play a large role in advancing the community toward salvation, Royce creates ample room for feminist traitors, who actively betray their communities for the goals of feminism and, thereby, positively transform their communities. Barnette seems to be on the same page as Tessman, in advocating deconstruction of ones community on the part of a loyally inspired in this case, feminist critic. Moreover, just as Tessman urges disloyalty as a moral prescription in such a case, Barnette lauds the feminist traitor for forcing the community to self-reflection and self-improvement. In fact, Barnette goes on to put the point more strongly, holding, From the perspective of Royces idea of loyalty to loyalty, the feminist traitor is a necessity. The feminist traitor is a necessity insofar as patriarchy stifles communities. Not only does patriarchy limit the ability of women to formulate and carry out plans of life, but it indoctrinates men to believe that patriarchal attitudes and social structures are natural and appropriate, which prompts resistance of reflection if ever the opposite is suggested. Patriarchy is thus deleterious to all whom it affects, cutting against the capacity of both men and women to be their loyal best. Barnette parts ways with Tessman in asking, if feminist traitors are working for the betterment of the community as a whole, is it correct to call their actions truly traitorous? That is, Tessman assumes that the actions of, say, a feminist traitor are to be understood as no longer acts of loyalty, but of disloyalty. As such, the feminist traitor has relieved herself of the burden of loyalty, for loyalty can no longer be attributed to her. While a traitor is indeed disloyal, Barnette suggests that what appear to be acts of disloyalty can in some cases be understood qua loyalty: [I]f a woman who lived in Connecticut during the turn of the twentieth century knowingly and actively violated the Comstock Laws by providing contraception and information on family planning to other women, her actions are traitorous inasmuch as she is actively breaking a law, violating her communitys officially established regulations. In this way, she is a traitor. Her actions undercut her communitys position and destabilize her society, causing unrest by undercutting the authoritative forces of her community. However, in doing so, her deed advances the autonomy of women and their ability to freely choose causes and foster loyalty, and her action, once discovered by the community, must be reckoned with. Thus, in the case of this Connecticut woman, a critically loyal member of her Connecticut community, her traitorous deed may be seen as, at the core, an act of loyalty. One might say, in fact, that her disloyalty is committed in loyalty to loyalty. The Roycean loyal traitor seems coextensive with the Tessmanian burdened loyal critic. Whereas Tessman believes that this individual relinquishes loyalty to her community in her loyalty to a cause that provokes liberatory struggle, Royce would claim the contrary. Such a loyal critic is the kind of loyal person that communities need most, even when and indeed perhaps most when they are blind to such need. When we see that our own communities are ailing, it is our task to begin the work to resuscitate, rejuvenate, or reconstruct them. To fail to do so is to at once to stifle fulfillment of ones own needs and to ignore that which is owed to others. The burden of loyalty in times of liberatory struggle thus brings into provocative relief the vitality of loyalty for self-realization and ethical living. (5, 595 words)  John E. Smith, Royces Social Infinite: The Community of Interpretation (New York: The Liberal Arts Press, 1950), 169.  Julia Driver gives such an account of loyalty: Loyalty is a virtue because it binds people together more efficiently and reduces psychological stress in relationships. You can count on someone who is loyal. You can work more efficiently with someone who is loyal. See: Julia Driver, Uneasy Virtue (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 104-105. Rosalind Hursthouse offers a similar but nuanced account: Loyal people do not stick by their friends, continue with the business that has treated them generously and has now fallen on hard times, and refuse to mock their partners behind their back because they think doing so fosters good relationships and the good functioning of a social group. They do sobecause they think its right. See: Rosalind Hursthouse, On Virtue Ethics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 235 (emphasis in original). Thus, Hursthouse and Driver agree that loyalty fosters good relationships and efficient functioning of social groups, and is therefore, conducive to the well-being of the loyal agent, but Hursthouse stipulates that well-being is not the motive of the loyal agent. It is not clear, however, why these motives need be mutually exclusive. One may be loyal because one thinks loyalty fosters good relationships and the good functioning of a social group and that it is right to be loyal, or one may be loyal because one thinks it is right to foster good relationships and the good functioning of a social group. Clearly, Royce thinks that loyalty fosters numerous goods and that it is right to be loyal for numerous reasons.  Lisa Tessman, Burdened Virtues: Virtue Ethics for Liberatory Struggle (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 9.  Ibid., 149.  Clendenning, Introduction. In The Letters of Josiah Royce, 26.  Ibid. The Philosophy of Loyalty is published in 1908; The Problem of Christianity is published in 1913.  Kevin Starr, Americans and the California Dream 1850-1915. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1973), 168.  Josiah Royce, Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 252. This citation is derived from the expanded edition of this text: Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems. Ed. Scott L.Pratt and Shannon Sullivan. (New York: Fordham University Press, 2009). Provincialism: Based Upon a Study of Early Conditions of California was originally published in Putnams Magazine, VII, November 1909, 232-240.  Ibid., 257.  Royce, Studies of Good and Evil: A Series of Essays Upon Problems of Philosophy and of Life. (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1898), 298.  Ibid., 299.  Frank M. Oppenheim classifies Royces moral thought into early (to 1895), middle (1896-1911), and mature (1912-1916) periods in his Royces Mature Ethics (Notre Dame, IN: Notre Dame University Press, 1993). While line-drawing in these classifications may be debated, it is worth noting that each of these periods is represented by texts of Royces considered in this chapter. However we organize the development of Royces moral thought, preoccupation with the themes considered in this discussion persists throughout.  For Royce, insofar as humans are finite, there is a sense in which moral entanglements are never overcome. As Royce puts it in The World and the Individual, Our finitude means then, an actual inattention a lack of successful interest, at this conscious instant, in more than a very few of the details of the universe, with sin being a free choosing of the sort of narrowness which is the natural fate of the human being. The detail of the universe to which the sinner is deliberately inattentive is an Ought already present to ones finite consciousness. See: Josiah Royce, The World and the Individual. Second Series. (New York: Dover, 1959), 59, 359, 360 (emphasis in original).  Josiah Royce, California: A Study of American Character from the Conquest in 1846 to the Second Vigilance Committee in San Francisco (Berkeley, CA: Heyday Books, 2002), 216. Royce is referring to Jonah of the Bibles Book of Jonah. God had ordered Jonah to prophesy at Nineveh, but Jonah chose to flee by going to the port city of Jaffa and sailing to Tarshish. God creates a great storm to interfere with Jonahs attempt to flee from his duty. The sea calms only when Jonah admits to his fellow sailors that he is to blame for the storm and convinces them to throw him overboard. God allows for Jonah to be saved by being swallowed by a large fish, in which Jonah lives for three days and three nights. Upon praying to God and promising to atone, the fish is commanded by God to release Jonah. Royce sees the travels and travails of those who abandoned their quiet paths at home for a westward voyage of uncertainty and unforeseen peril as analogous to the experience of Jonah. In describing the delivery of Provincialism to the University of Iowa, a community whose provincial spirit he admired, Royce deploys the same reference with respect to himself: Thus, then, I went to do my little bit of prophesying. But I found no Nineveh against which to prophesy. Wholesome provincialism was growing all about me, as the crops were growing under the sun and the rains of June. (Royce, Provincialism Based Upon a Study of Conditions in California in Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 259).  Royce, California, 216.  Ibid., 218.  Josiah Royce, Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 252.  Royce, California, 214.  Ibid., 219.  Ibid., 253.  Ibid., 221.  Ibid., 221.  Ibid., 250.  Ibid., 257.  Ibid., 258-259.  Ibid., 264.  Ibid., 265.  Ibid.  Ibid.  Royce, Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 254.  Royce, California, 295.  Ibid.  Ibid.  Ibid., 296.  Ibid.  Royce, Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 256.  Royce, California, 296.  Royce, Race Questions, Provincialism, and Other American Problems, 258.  Royce, The Problem of Christianity, 98.  Ibid., 73.  Ibid., 115.  Ibid.  This is precisely the problem referred to by Royce in The Philosophy of Loyalty as the paradoxicalmoral situation of all us the seemingly endless play of inner and outer (Royce, The Philosophy of Loyalty, 16, 18).  Royce, The Problem of Christianity, 119. In his parenthetical remark, Royce explicitly identifies loyalty as the love of a community conceived as a person on a level superior to that of any human individual. Royce explicitly distinguishes between love and loyalty in The Philosophy of Loyalty, so this may seem a shift in Royces thought about the nature of loyalty. I contend, however, that for Royce, love is a necessary (though insufficient) condition for loyalty. Love is a feeling that, when embodied in willing, practical and thoroughgoing service, instantiates loyalty. One cannot choose to love, but one can choose to be loyal.  Ibid., 73.  Ibid., 166.  Ibid., 168.  Ibid.  Ibid., 169 (emphasis in original).  Ibid., 176.  Ibid., 178, 180, 181.  Ibid., 180 (emphasis in original).  Ibid., 185.  Ibid., 186 (emphasis in original).  Schell, Roycean Loyalty and the Struggle with Evil, 16.  Tessman, Burdened Virtues: Virtue Ethics for Liberatory Struggle, 156.  For instance, the tragic case of Antigone, to which Royce alludes repeatedly throughout his corpus.  Kara E. Barnette, Communities, Traitors, and the Feminist Cause: Looking Toward Josiah Royce for Feminist Scholarship, The Pluralist, Vol. 2, No. 2 (2007): 81-90, 81.  Ibid., 88.  Barnette considers only women in her discussion. While patriarchy, by definition, renders women inferior to men, I maintain that patriarchy is harmful to men in encouraging and shaping men to regard and treat women as inferior to them. While women might more readily recognize patriarchy as disloyal to loyalty, men ought to recognize it as such, too.  Barnette, 88.  Ibid. 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