DOI: 10.1111/1467-8675.

12289

ORIGINAL ARTICLE

Power and dissonance: Exclusion as a key category

for a critical social analysis
Gianfranco Casuso

Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, Peru

Correspondence
Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, Lima, Peru.
Email: gcasuso@pucp.edu.pe

1 INTRODUCTION

Traditionally, exclusion has been understood as the situation of those who are outside the social order and who strug-
gle to be incorporated into and participate within it. This understanding of exclusion as the simple outer side of
society, however, is a problematic way to analyze critically social orders and to account for the way in which exclu-
sion in those orders is produced. This article makes a contribution to solve a central problem of the Critical Theory
tradition (although it is not limited to it); namely, how the emergence of a critical attitude in individuals against a
background of apparent coherence and normality (without renouncing a cognitive and normative approach, which
is usually absent from structuralist and poststructuralist positions) can be explained. For this purpose, I analyze a
fundamental dimension of exclusion which I see as the key category for this explanation. It is, therefore, not a question
of simply showing the possibilities and difficulties of escaping exclusion, but of developing a concept of exclusion
that itself serves as a critical analysis of society. I will elaborate these ideas, which are encapsulated by six theses,
in detail below.
In the first thesis I distinguish between a concept of exclusion and a more limited approach related to the exer-
cise of power over an agent. According to this thesis, exclusion means more than an intentional agent excluding in an
already constituted society excluding someone else for her own benefit. In the second thesis, consonant with recent
influential contributions to the power debate by Miranda Fricker, Thomas Wartenberg, Rainer Forst, and John Searle
(a debate that for a long time focused almost exclusively on Steven Lukes’s [2005] Power: A Radical View), I show
that it is possible to speak of exclusion as an immanent process without understanding it as being the result of an
strategical act of an agent with whom an easily identifiable (and eventually criticizable) dyadic relationship between
the excluded person and the one excluding her is established, similar to explicit social relations of domination and
subordination.
In the next section, against this dyadic conception of exclusion, and partially following the well-known Foucauldian
understanding of power, I develop my third thesis. This is a fundamental conception of exclusion, defined not as
a peripheral condition, but rather as the counterpart (or the residual part) of the exercise of the power that con-
stitutes social reality. Based on Rahel Jaeggi’s critical theory, I complement the purely structural notion of power
with a reconstruction of a pragmatist idea on the constitution of normative orders understood as always-perfectible
problem-solving mechanisms guided by historical social learning processes.
In the fourth thesis these socio-ontological considerations are articulated by appealing to the linguistic-
philosophical approach of authors such as Robert Brandom and Donald Davidson, according to which the effectiveness

Constellations. 2017;1–15. wileyonlinelibrary.com/journal/cons 

c 2017 John Wiley & Sons Ltd. 1
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of social orders as a source of normativity and problem solving depends upon maintaining the appearance of internal
consistency between the problem-solving instances and the beliefs that support them. This will allow me to claim that
the immanence of exclusion has to do with the unfavorable position an agent occupies in a shared social space of
reasons which she implicitly makes use of, but in whose constitution she has not consciously participated.
I argue that being excluded means not being able to play a significant role in shaping the space of reasons, and
not being conscious of the inferential links between those reasons. Thus, overcoming this situation will depend on
the appropriation and restructuring of the space that often serves to justify illegitimately the status quo, to obscure
latent inconsistencies in the social fabric and, thereby, to hinder potential criticism. This leads to the realization
that exclusion has two complementary aspects. On the one hand, the origin of diverse social phenomena such as
oppression or domination can be a result of not taking part in the constitution of reality, and this oppression is
often justified from the point of view of the whole society. On the other hand, precisely because of its particu-
lar characteristics, this form of exclusion can play an important role in social criticism and the reconfiguration of
normative spaces.
The latter is detailed in the last two theses. In line with the aims of the Critical Theory, which constitutes the
conceptual framework of this article, in the fifth thesis I will explain that being aware of the potential contradictions
between historically formed beliefs is an effective way to break the apparent coherence that holds together an order
of justification. The criticism of the structures of domination is possible precisely because of some form of cognitive
dissonance, that is, the detection of latent inconsistencies that go often unnoticed and that are part of perfectible
historical problem-solving processes. This presupposes, furthermore, the idea that the effectiveness of the structures
as a means of exercising domination depends on a second-order belief in a supposed coherence and on concealing
latent first-order inconsistencies. This critique should lead to a reorganization and transformation of inferential
relations in order to overcome the contradiction. Thus, the irrationality an agent detects in her own belief system also
shows the limits of the social system.
Following this, in the sixth thesis I conclude that the role of the experience of exclusion in the possibility of legitimate
social criticism can be explained using the concept of cognitive dissonance. The idea is that in the light of some evidence,
an agent experiences dissonance in her belief system, which provides her with the possibility of disclosing the space of
reasons and making the hitherto hidden inferential links between her current beliefs explicit. Through this, the agent
realizes that unknowingly she had been excluded from the space of reasons, where being excluded in this fundamental
sense means her lack of a significant role in historical problem-solving processes. Hence, more than being just an object
of criticism, fundamental exclusion enables immanent critique and social change by virtue of the constant quest to
restore social rationality and internal consistency.

2 THESIS 1

Exclusion is neither the result of the exercise of power over nor of segregation from an
already constituted society
According to John Searle’s social ontology, power is defined by its intentional-relational character and by the exactness
with which one can identify those involved in such a relationship (Searle, 2010, pp. 145–155). This so-called deontic
power refers, furthermore, to the ability to influence someone else’s behavior by means of reasons. Thus, this behav-
ior is guided by a normative force which the subordinated party can recognize as valid. In a similar vein, Rainer Forst
understands power relations in the noumenal sense according to the following formula: A exercises power over B when
A can influence intentionally the space of reasons of B, so that B ends up thinking and acting in ways she otherwise (that
is, without the intervention of A) would not have (Forst, 2015, p. 115).
The main benefit of this conception is that it incorporates a normative-constitutive issue, which avoids reducing
power to the mere use of force or to a simple negative relationship of domination (Forst, 2015, p. 115; Searle, 2010,
p. 148). Moreover, by taking into account the ability of A to foster a social situation in which it seems reasonable to
CASUSO 3

B to act according to A’s purposes, these positions succeed in closing the gap produced by Hanna Pitkin’s now classic
differentiation between “power over” and “power to” (Pitkin, 1972) through an original formula that can be condensed
as follows: A exercises power over B’s possible actions if and only if A has the power to create reasons with which B
could agree (cf. Allen, 1999; Wartenberg, 1991, pp. 183–201). The productive side of power that opens up a space of
possibility to B is based on a structural background that embodies a set of norms and values. This taken-for-granted
field tends, therefore, to remain tacit and invisible, and provides A with the necessary resources to exercise, explicitly
and intentionally, power over B (Forst, 2015, p. 121; Searle, 2010, pp. 158–159). In other words, that A creates rea-
sons for B means simply that she can invoke the rules and social conventions already available and use them to her
advantage.1
Although Searle does distinguish a relational-dyadic from a structural-situated aspect of power,2 by giving the first
one the role of the explanandum and the second one the role of explanans, he establishes a clear relationship of subor-
dination between them. As in the bulk of the power analysis centered on the agent, the goal here is also to clarify what
enables a successful power relationship of A over B. This explains why for Searle power to refers basically to the ability
of a single agent within a dyadic relationship, to mobilize and strategically use to her advantage the narratives of those
social orders that she already finds as constituted, and to transform them into binding reasons that recreate a scenario
in which another agent can (implicitly or explicitly) give her consent: a scenario where the intentional content of the
exercise of power is justified for both actors. It is not, strictly speaking, the agent A herself who voluntarily “creates”
social orders that sustain the space of reasons within which she interacts with B, but rather that she either uses them
consciously or ends up being a mere medium of their tendency to self-preservation and reproduction.
When Forst explains how the exercise of power by A over B is possible, he seems to agree on the basics with
Searle, but his analysis goes beyond Searle’s when he inquires into the conditions under which such power is legiti-
mate (Forst, 2015, p. 125). In this context he introduces the right that both A and B have to make explicit and take a
stand on the reasons behind the social orders that determine their actions, decisions, preferences, and desires. This
aspect of power, that has to do with a rational justification process, confers on B a certain critical-reflective capac-
ity that prevents her relationship with A being reduced to a simple imposition of reasons taken from a pre-justified
social order.
However, this power to call into question existing justifications through the disclosure of discursive realms between
those involved in the dyadic relationship does not yet provide an answer to the more fundamental question about
how and on what basis such orders have been historically formed so that, at any given moment, they can serve as a
resource for the exercise of power. I expand on this in detail in the third thesis. Accepting that their formation does
not depend exclusively on the individual (or collective) will of agents, an analysis of power that does not want to
remain confined to the dyadic-relational dimension must account for the constitutive forces of such narratives that
explains why it is relatively easy for A to use them as justifications for her own benefit. But for that, the explanan-
dum must also incorporate a power to side, understood as constitutive power in a socio-ontological sense (Forst, 2015,
pp. 124–127).
A complementary issue is to analyze how it is possible that, given the alleged internal coherence of the narratives
that sustain social orders, agent B can at a certain moment perceive them as unjustified and criticize them, consider-
ing further that it is precisely such coherence that ensures their effectiveness as unified spaces of justification. This is
an important question directly linked to the study of the functioning of constitutive power that seems to have been
neglected. Therefore, a more comprehensive strategy for the analysis and criticism of such a form of power is based
on the experience of those who suffer the negative consequences of its exercise. This strategy ought to explain what
triggers mental states associated with the need to challenge from within the validity of components of a particular
social order which appears to be natural and legitimate, and not only normatively recognize an individual right to jus-
tification.(This will be the main topic of the fifth and sixth theses). To accomplish these tasks it is necessary to develop
a conceptual frame that allows one to explain how the disclosure of non-visible distortions resulting from the positive
processes of the formation of normative orders is possible, while taking into account the position of those involved in
the interaction spaces afforded by such orders. As I try to show, the concept of exclusion allows us to accomplish both
tasks, which is precisely what makes it a key component of a critical analysis of society.
4 CASUSO

But to begin we should distinguish between at least two radically different forms of exclusion to understand this
concept. The first and most common one has a similar structure to the power relationship formulated above. Thus, one
can speak of intentional-relational exclusion when A, for her own benefit, prevents B from participating in X, where X
can be a material good, a social position that gives whoever occupies it a certain status, or opportunities or resources
serving to achieve any socially recognized goal. In that sense, exclusion is part of a strategy of power developed by A
over B to control some relevant portion of the social field.
The problem with this form is, firstly, that it reproduces a problematic dualism to the extent that the strategic act of
excluding B presupposes a social realm that is already constituted, whose control A wishes to monopolize. Second, this
means that potential critical responses on the side of B are addressed only to the single action of A, whom, according
to the situation, B could blame. Therefore, it is not possible to speak here of social criticism, just as there would be no
social critique if, for example, B reproaches A for taking her belongings without her permission, or for speaking ill of her
behind her back.
Moreover, in our example, A and B tacitly share the same beliefs about the value of X, so that criticism is here rather
the struggle for something already recognized as valuable rather than the questioning of the validity or legitimacy of
any component of social reality. In fact, this form of exclusion can work only under the assumption that A’s second-order
reasons for excluding B are the same that B could use to struggle for her incorporation into X.3 Thus, although a change
in this common ground would lead to rethinking such a relation of exclusion, the “solution” the dualistic-intentional
approach takes into account is only the admission of B by A into a pre-existing relation, practice or institution, in which B
can now enjoy the benefit hitherto denied to her by A. This solution, however, leaves the shared ground intact, thereby
making it unable to account for the possibility of reasonable disagreement and of collectively revising the reasons why
B has to do X.
In contrast to this intentional and strategic form, when we consider it from the broader perspective of constitu-
tive social power—that is to say, when we inquire about the historical conditions of production and modification of
the meanings of X—to exclude can no longer be understood as a single act of the will or as a merely individual power
strategy. The latter can already be seen in the fact that the kinds of behavior and attitudes usually associated with the
concept of exclusion—for example, ignoring, withholding recognition, forgetting, and not paying attention—do not, as a
rule, have an intentional object towards which they are directed. From a socio-ontological perspective, they have more
to do with abandonment and the disinterested emergence of a residual field derived from several positive historical-
symbolic processes of the constitution of social reality.
According to this interpretation, the concept of exclusion is linked to the inability to take part in the development of
solutions to social problems and challenges that arise historically, or in Lukács’s terms, to be condemned to be specta-
tors without influence on a reality that, following its own inertia, becomes increasingly strange and inauthentic. There-
fore, a potential criticism should not concentrate primarily on the demands for not taking part in the benefits of already
constituted social orders, but on the unveiling of exclusions that remain unseen. That is, of distorted (though not nec-
essarily intentional) forms of the constitution of the social reality which generates hegemonic positions that, embodied
in practices, institutions, and forms of life, hide the way they have become what they are and thus its own foundations.
These historical processes should be made visible and conscious to individuals, and thereby reveal the power as the
principle of the social constitution. I focus on this second form of exclusion, because I think it allows a more accurate
and compelling understanding of social criticism.

3 THESIS 2

Exclusion is not the result of a strategical act of an agent with whom an easily identifiable
dyadic relationship is established
There are certainly dyadic forms of power in which, like the relationships described above, the parties can be precisely
identified. These are usually manifested phenomenally and exercised over concrete subjects. Thus, they can be singled
CASUSO 5

out in terms of individual acts, quantified and, under certain circumstances, one can even react against them (Bachrach
& Baratz, 1962; Dahl, 1957). To illustrate this point, consider the following example. A is B’s boss and, as such, she
usually orders B to do F, where F is an action that favors A, and B would otherwise not do it. Here the particular rela-
tionship of domination is exercised as a single intentional act addressed to the will of B with a clear purpose on the side
of A. Such an intentional act results in a concrete action F that should favor A. Domination is, therefore, visible and
observable by means of its effects in the world and it is possible for at least two reasons: because A draws her authority
from the properties legitimately derived from her institutional status as the boss of B; or because B decides to comply
with the mandate to do F because she has some first-order reasons for doing so, which can range from personal conve-
nience to a strong sense of duty and respect for authority.4 Now suppose that at one point B becomes aware—because
she reads the regulations of the company—that A has no authority to order her to do F. At this point, B may legitimately
question the false demands of A, which go beyond her institutionally defined role. The result is that B would not do F,
thereby terminating that particular dyadic relationship.
Something entirely different occurs if it turns out that doing F is actually codified in the regulations as A demands,
but B still feels an aversion to doing it. In this context B could begin to think that doing F no longer benefits her and that
to obey doesn’t really favor the achivement of her personal projects, or whether the boss had the power to order her
subordinates to do F, or even the very idea of respect for authority. To understand B’s objection in the second case we
must consider not only a relatively easy to detect mismatch between what A pretends to do and what she can actually do
under the current regulations, but the structural, situated and peripheral conditions that allow a specific relationship
of dominance to be possible, that is, the source of validity of the multiple reasons that support it. This should allow us
to understand both what at first made, it appear that doing F was supported by good reasons for A and B, and what
subsequently occurred to make these reasons still seem good to A, but not longer to B.
In order to clarify this, let us go back to our example. A has property x, and B has property y, where x has a greater
social value than y, and gives whoever has it certain authority over whoever who has y. Thus, A may (or may not)
make effective use of the authority grounded in the possession of x over B and B, in turn, may (or may not) comply
with the command of A. If this particular relation comes about then we are talking about a legitimate (and socially
acknowledged) relationship of domination. In this case, A and B implicitly share the same social-institutional space
of reasons, which is what confers their evaluation of the worth of x and y, and justifies the relationship between
A and B.
As a matter of fact, something different results when we focus not only on the single dyadic relationship between
A and B, but on the processes of constitution of the meanings, values, and beliefs that define the relationship between
the properties x and y (and between these and the other peripheral properties that reinforce it) within a social field. As
we have seen, it can be said that exclusion means to not have taken an active part in the constitution of a sector of that
social field whereby certain value is attributed to x over y—which, furthermore, has the consequence that there are
good reasons to do F and thus to justify the eventual domination of A over B. From a cognitive-normative perspective,
to have no part simply means that B is not completely aware of the inferential relations between the beliefs behind the
values x and y.
From this, we can say that for B to stop perceiving it as necessary to do F, she should somehow undermine her
tacit belief in (at least some of) the background features that support the link between x and y, and function as the
context of validity and legitimacy for the realization of F. These properties exceed the dyadic relationship between
A and B, whereby B should detect some form of internal inconsistency in her own beliefs, which would lead her to
reveal distortions at a social-constitutive level. As mentioned, the impossibility of revealing such distortions is what
I call immanent exclusion. I examine in more detail these ideas in the fifth and sixth theses. For the moment, the key
issue is that the particular configuration of reality that makes x more valuable than y and provides reasons to justify
certain actions and relations, cannot be regarded as the product of an intentional act of A over B. Thus, it cannot be
said that A is the intentional agent of the exclusion of which B is the victim. Therefore, the claim that in this case there
also exists a dyadic relation loses its force. This configuration depends, rather, on multiple factors and historical pro-
cesses beyond the control of individuals. The latter is precisely what the concept of constitutive social power wants
to explain.
6 CASUSO

4 THESIS 3

Exclusion is a counterpart of the power that constitutes normative social orders

One can defend the thesis that exclusion is better understood as the negative side (as the shadow) of the exercise
of the multiple forces that constitute the social world. This means that what is excluded does not have the status of
an intentional object. As such, exclusion does not apply to a strategic use of reason in order to achieve a particular
goal. The consequences of processes of symbolic-normative constitution can include domination and marginalization.
However, exclusion as such is not an activity, but rather a non-event outside the limits of agential intentionality. To
the extent that this form of exclusion is the counterpart of the processes of social constitution, it has an ontological or
fundamental nature and, unlike a declared act of domination or marginalization, it cannot be perceived, evaluated, or
criticized by the same empirical means.
Constitutive power—related to the concept of potentia in the Spinozian sense—refers to the ability of any entity
to persist in its being by realizing its own potential (conatus); that is, to the capacity of self-generating immanently
(Spinoza, 2002, pp. 683–685; see Saar, 2010, 2013). From a socio-ontological perspective one can understand this
immanence—this proceeding according to the own possibilities and potentialities—as the ability to (re)create itself by
combining existing materials in new ways using certain rules that are implicitly or explicitly already available. As with
natural languages in relation to concepts and assertions, in society there are correct and incorrect ways of understand-
ing, creating, and behaving with reference to categories, practices, and institutions.5 So this indispensable capacity or
power to create something new through praxis is not developed in complete opposition to social practices. It is instead
developed within social practices whose rules of functioning and formation we, as competent agents, tacitly master
and to which we are neccesarily subjected as socialized individuals (Brandom, 1979, pp. 193–196). Accordingly, consti-
tutive power simply denotes the process of creating social orders immanently, which points to the fact that categories,
practices, and institutions cannot emerge from nowhere or entirely from the individual will. Let us examine this point
in more detail.
Social life constantly poses problems and challenges that require reflexive solutions. These solutions represent what
the sociological tradition calls social knowledge, or answers articulated in terms of categories, practices, institutions,
and all kinds of symbolic-cultural products that are laden with norms and categories. Following Rahel Jaeggi, it can
be said that such social orders—or simply forms of life—are constituted as answers to problems arising within them
according to their particularities, that is, immanently (Jaeggi, 2013, pp. 200–253; see Dewey, 1927).6
These social answers are developed through the validation of hypotheses process, which means that the legitimacy
of a practice or institution depends on what appears to be the most effective strategy at any point to solve a certain
problem or set of problems. Practices and institutions present themselves as the best available response to historically
developed challenges. So for example, the legal institution of the transatlantic slave trade was developed in the con-
text of colonization as a means of reducing production costs and of opening new markets (Klein, 2010). This institution
proved to be an adequate response to a series of social, economic, and political challenges, and succeeded because
the fact that ideas like equality or human dignity were not socially available (or not available enough) meant that the
practice of slave trade did not conflict with other practices, institutions, or beliefs that were already accepted. Gener-
ally speaking, we can say that the success and persistence of the solutions to new problems depends upon its ability to
align itself with many other existing (or at least socially conceivable) concepts, ideas, and institutions, and on the solid-
ity of the links between them. The intelligibility of such solutions is based on the network structure that links together
various mutually reinforcing beliefs. Thus, its effectiveness depends on its internal consistency. Well-articulated solu-
tions constitute narratives with an inherent claim of coherence that, by not being dramatically inconsistent with the
dominant belief systems of the members of a society, can be assumed to be reasonable and meaningful. This creates a
certain harmony that secures the assent of those concerned by the problems in question.
To return to the main thrust of the thesis, to say that that a society has the capacity (or the power) to consti-
tute itself in an immanent way means that when new problems arise it will try to adjust the new knowledge to cur-
rently available elements. This conservative trend reflects the fact that forms of life work on the basis of routines
CASUSO 7

and moments of inertia that are made possible by implicit knowledge and tacit rules, and thereby constitute a sec-
ond nature that, incorporated in the belief systems of its members, provide them with a coherent context that
enables praxis.
This does not imply, however, that such coherence is completely objective. Because problems arise in specific and
changing contexts, the answers are always only provisional and hypothetical. To the extent that new problems show
that the current solutions are not satisfactory, their appearance implies a break with the pre-existing harmony. Thus,
problems represent practical and cognitive challenges: they can serve to expose inconsistencies or false inferences in
the relations between beliefs, practices, and institutions. In other words, there is always the tendency to overcome
or correct the contradictions that social actors detect in narratives that have gradually been losing their consistency,
always seeking to recover the lost harmony. The solutions, like the problems, are never disembodied, in that they
emerge against the background of existing forms of life, from previous attempts at a solution. Thus, they are learning,
perfectioning processes.
In fact, spontaneous and radical moments of rupture and the creation of something completely new are rare,
because the abrupt introduction of an “outer” answer would only generate a rejection based on a cognitive incom-
patibility. Like the problems, the solutions are also social: they are neither created from nowhere, nor are they subject
to the arbitrariness of individual agents. By representing internal modifications—readjustments—of available beliefs
and social practices, they correspond to the ability to follow certain unspoken formation rules and embody historically
developing values (Honneth, 2014, pp. 1–11). That is the reason why critical inquiries can only be immanent and come
from the participants in such practices. A transformative critical attitude, linked to what Robert Brandom understands
as the exercise of expressive freedom, can take place only under the assumption that we never stop following the rules
that govern our social behavior (Brandom, 1979, pp. 193–194).
Now, if we accept the first two theses—that exclusion does not constitute a dyadic, intentional, and easily observ-
able relationship—and add what has been said in this section so far, we can see more clearly why exclusion is better
understood as a counterpart of the processes of social constitution as a problem-solving strategy. Social orders are not
created in response to a declared intention to exclude people, they follow their own course in order to solve practical
problems. Therefore, it cannot be said that exclusion in this constitutive sense is the end of an intentional act or that
it is a deliberate means to achieve some goal. The intentional content of constitutive power is thus always the solution
sought and not exclusion in itself.
Let us return for a moment to the example above to illustrate this point. It would be difficult to accept that the
slave trade arose by the spontaneous decision of some sadist in order to denigrate part of humanity. The problem for
which the institution of slavery was the best solution was not how to humiliate people or effectively and systemati-
cally deny their dignity, but the legal regulation of an economic activity to increase productivity in the colonies. Like
any institutionally regulated and largely accepted social practice, slavery was developed in response to certain human
challenges and was admitted as part of an alleged coherent system of beliefs and institutions that provided it with a
suitable justification in order to appear as the best alternative available. This is not to deny that for certain groups the
practice of slavery had fatal consequences linked to their exploitation and oppression. But these consequences should
not be confused with the main goal, since they are only a side effect of—although initially accepted, justified by, and
derived from—the constitution of the sector of social reality that such an institution represents. That is why its social
rejection and the perception that it was a crime against humanity developed only gradually by finding that it was incom-
patible with other ideas, practices, and social, economic, and political institutions.
Using the same example, we could say that there was exclusion to the extent that slaves were not taken into account
in the spaces of justification and, furthermore, that precisely this fact caused their situation to appear as a natural fate
for a long time. But, as in the previous case, exclusion here can only be perceived as such a posteriori. This is possi-
ble because it has already been revealed to us through the experience of its protagonists, because now we have cate-
gories to think and express something that was impossible to see or even to understand when it emerged (Fricker, 2007,
pp. 9–29).
By concentrating on the positive side of their constitution, social orders are not endowed with the tools to detect
exclusion when it appears. Again, as instances of problem-solving, their goal is not to produce exclusion. It belongs to
8 CASUSO

the very nature of exclusion not to be perceived as such until someone (a person or a group) denounces it on the basis
of her own experience. Until then, it is inexistent, a non-event.
Hence, this fundamental or ontological conception of exclusion generates methodological problems over the way to
understand social criticism because, since there is not an agent of exclusion, it is not easy to understand the target of
critique. That there is exclusion does not mean that there has necessarily been an explicit intention to produce it. The
allocation of responsibility in this context, therefore, becomes indeterminate.
This allows me to introduce two central considerations. The first is a defense of the primacy of the category of
exclusion. As we have seen, although exclusion is not in itself a relational or intentional act, it can have phenomenally
expressed consequences, like relations of subordination and exploitation. But a study of one or more of its potential
single effects cannot precede the study of its foundations—that is, it cannot replace a socio-ontological analysis of a
potentially distorted configuration of the space of valid meanings and reasons. If this is granted, then the question that
arises is how to approach to the study of a non-event, of an undetermined and empirically diffuse object and how to do
that in a critical way that questions its possible negative effects. The second consideration refers precisely to this point
and it will be addressed in the following three theses.

5 THESIS 4

Being excluded means both not playing a role in shaping the space of reasons and not being
conscious of the inferential links between the beliefs that support it
Exclusion means more than simply being outside of the society. Strictly speaking, one can be excluded even though
one belongs to a social order and implicitly shares the same space of reasons with others. We saw that for an inten-
tional power relationship between A and B to be possible it requires a common ground to stabilize their expectations
of behavior by (tacitly) providing the reasons that are accepted by both. On its part, constitutive social power refers to
the (not always intentional, consistent or consensual) multiple forces that contribute to the historical formation of nor-
mative orders. These forces are embodied in institutions, practices, customs, and social, and linguistic categories, and
thereby create the reasons that may serve to justify further actions. Thus, these reasons denote a realm for potential
actions: a space of possibility. If we understand constitutive power and its normative character as the ability to produce
such reasons, then exclusion, as its counterpart, should refer to non-participation in the constitution of the society in
which one lives and to whose rules one is subject. Thus, a lack of participation in that power is synonymous with being
excluded.
In this constitutive sense, exclusion can furthermore be expressed (a) either in a properly strong, fundamental sense,
as the impossibility that reasons and the foundations of its internal (inferential) relations are revealed as such to the
subjects; (b) or in a more weak, discursive sense, as the inability to participate in actual public processes of justification
once those reasons and relations have been made explicit. Accordingly, the possibility of overcoming the second will
depend on breaking down the barriers that reinforce the first.
With Brandom we can distinguish between mere acting, tacitly using certain rules and the ability to articulate them
by making explicit the reasons those rules mobilize (Brandom, 1994, pp. xviii–xix). Only through this previous eluci-
dation is it possible to take a stand on, relativize, and make the reasons open to criticism, that is, to achieve all that
is expected of a reciprocal exchange of reasons aimed at reaching an agreement.7 This idea corresponds broadly to
the Wittgensteinian premise that acting, like thinking and talking, always involves following a heterogeneous set of
rules of which we are not always fully aware, but which we tacitly master and, as the case may be, we can get to know
(Wittgenstein, 1958, §§ 143–156). The epistemological assumption for this is that the validity of a belief (as well as the
meaning of a concept or assertion) and, consequently, its effectiveness as a condition for action, cannot be attributed
in isolation, but depends on its articulation with the content of other valid beliefs— given that praxis always has a social
character, as it occurs against the background of an institutional framework, following certain social customs and rou-
tines (Jaeggi, 2013, pp. 95–103). Thus, arriving to class on time is, for a student, an action made possible by several
CASUSO 9

first-order beliefs that, as a whole, function for her as behavioral expectations. Those beliefs are, for instance, that the
classroom will be there, that the class always starts at the same time, that the other students and the teacher also will
be there, and so on. The validity of such an action also involves evaluative elements (such as the belief in the good orga-
nization of the university or in the commitment of teachers and students), descriptive-normative elements (such as
knowing what criteria the university and its members must meet to be good), desiderative elements (such as the wish
to be considered responsible by others or to accomplish certain future professional goals), among others.
These beliefs and attitudes make sense and acquire practical effectiveness only by being organized into a particular
order. Like any other system, a belief system is also regulated by certain patterns governing how its components should
behave towards one another. Thus, what these rules establish is both how beliefs and attitudes should be combined
in order to be properly used in specific contexts, as well as which consequences may legitimately follow from their
application (Dummett, 1973, pp. 453–456). Holding these beliefs, together with the mastery of the rules that deter-
mine their inferential relations—which constitute second-order beliefs—is what ultimately configures the reasons that
enable action. The point is that the success of an action does not depend on our knowing explicitly the content of such
reasons, but only on our mastering them at a practical level; that is, on our following the rules that form our tacit
knowledge (Polanyi, 2009).
Although there are always many reasons in play that justify and give sense to our decisions, practices, and forms
of life, their inferential links, as well as their sources of validity, may remain hidden for a long time, and the access to
the space of reasons that determines the possibility of agency can be restricted. A person excluded in the fundamental
sense is thus someone to whom the reasons for her own behavior have not been articulated as such, one who follows
certain rules without the possibility of “expressing” or “saying” them. In a nutshell, in her these reasons function as mere
causes, which—like second nature—regulate her behavior in a heteronomous way.
The interesting thing is that this blockade, contrary to what one might think, is not an impediment to action, but on
the contrary, it is what enables it by providing the agent with a coherent set of mutually reinforcing reasons. In fact, the
more internally consistent their belief system is, the more rational her behavior appears, which will be further socially
reinforced. So in our main example, good reasons for B depend on her beliefs about what she is expected to do in the
company. These reasons, which incidentally end up favoring A, belong to an order in the original sense of the Greek term
cosmos, that is, to a harmonious, coherent, and functionally well-arranged system whose components are organically
referred to each other and organized by certain rules of inference. Hence, any belief system, regardless of its content,
is already a normative system.
It follows that to obey is the most rational thing for B to do in the example discussed and that this rationality
is based precisely on the assumption that the system as a whole is consistent. On the one hand, this leads us to
distinguish between rational action and free agency. While blocking the space of reasons does not hinder the real-
ization of the first one, but rather reinforce it, it can be an obstacle to the second. It could, moreover, be added
that not all rational action is free, although every free action must be rational—understanding rational actions, of
course, as those that are motivated by reasons, without considering the source or foundation of such reasons. It
follows from what has been said above that blocking access to the space of reasons is simply a natural tendency
of social orders as part of their strategy of self-preservation (conatus). This is due to the fact that solutions to the
problems that arise within them present themselves as consistent and durable enough in order to ensure their
survival and reproduction, which, in turn, tend to occur through the rational (though not necessarily free) acts of
its members.
If we now ask what hinders the agent articulating and expressing her for potential actions, it turns out that there
is no intentional act. Consequently, we see once again how difficult is to find a specific individual to blame or to assign
direct responsibility for excluding attitudes. The fact is that, with its creation, a social field closes on itself by inertia and
gradually builds diverse narratives which, although potentially conflicting with each other by virtue of their complex
historical origin, intend to bring a unified and coherent sense to the behavior of individuals as its members. It is the claim
of homogeneity—or more precisely, of harmony—that makes it difficult to separate the reasons that support those
narratives from their source of validity and analyze them in the light of potential new evidence or new demands for
consistency. It is these socio-structural moments of inertia that hinder the articulation of reasons, the disclosure of
10 CASUSO

its foundations and the relativization of its validity. In other words: following their routines of self-production, they
encourage exclusion in an immanent way.

6 THESIS 5

The possibility of social criticism is related to the experience of cognitive dissonance

That exclusion is immanent to society gives us a clue for developing a non-dualistic approach to the problem of the
possibility of social criticism. To explain this, let us once again return to our first example. B has good reasons to do
F. As we saw, it is her institutionally acknowledged status as an employee (y) that gives her such reasons. But these
reasons do not emanate only from the properties of (y) taken in isolation as a predicative term. Such properties are
in fact relational, because they can be only understood though their holistic articulation with the fact of being a boss
(x) and many other interconnected beliefs. The relational value of each belief is supported by a tacit consistency that
connects and holds them together within a presumably well-structured system which B, when required, can make use
of. For instance, the decision to subordinate herself to A appears to B perfectly compatible with her role of employee
(y) and it depends, among other things, on a belief in the respect for authority, in the socio-integrative advantages of
maintaining strong hierarchies and the social division of labor, in their suitability for achieving individual goals and so
on. It is, moreover, the second-order belief in the coherence (between all the above and x and y) that maintains and
enforces as a unity the reasons shared by A and B (and by anyone who occupies a relevant position in the social space
of reasons).
But such internal consistency does not simply depend on a logical correction understood as a formal deductive con-
sequence (Brandom, 2000, pp. 52–57). The presupposed validity of the inferential link between the different beliefs
refers to their material content and, as seen, this content is a set of cultural products that emerged historically in soci-
eties as a way to deal with their problems and challenges (Jaeggi, 2013, pp. 356–391). In fact, as seen, practices and
institutions are valid to the extent that they are presented as the best solution to those problems. And their acceptance
depends on their consonance with ideas and concepts already available to the members of society at the time of their
appearance. Thus, their legitimacy is based on narratives and discourses characterized by a strong claim to internal
coherence, which offer individuals suitable reasons for justifying their decisions and actions in social relations—among
which, of course, are domination and subordination.
Based on this, if B could be aware that this consistency is neither natural nor necessary, and detect contradictions
between some of her first-order beliefs, then she would be able to separate the reasons from their formerly unques-
tionable monolithic structure. For example, B may begin to notice that despite all her efforts to submit herself to the
whims of A, her professional future is still not promising. Such evidence could lead her to question the validity of the
relationship between subordination and achieving her goals and to consider that the latter can be achieved by other
means. This means that B has managed to question her tacit belief in the legitimacy of the inferential link and recog-
nize that these two beliefs are actually dissonant: B now knows that submission does not necessarily follow from the
concept of employee (Brandom, 2000, pp. 69–72).
In this context, dissonance is simply another name for “inconsistent” or “contradictory” (Festinger, 1957, p. 2). Given
this, if B continues acting in the same way, she would only aggravate the dissonance, because subordinating herself to a
tyrannical boss has already been revealed to her as inconsistent—accepting, of course, that the value of achieving goals
remains constant, that is, that achieving her career goals is still valid and mostly consistent with the rest of her beliefs.
This situation corresponds exactly to the basic idea of cognitive dissonance, provided that subordination is now said to
be valid if and only if achieving goals is not (Festinger, 1957, p. 13).
If we also accept that irrationality can be defined as the inconsistency between one or more propositional attitudes
(Davidson, 2004, p. 192), then we can see that what B realizes is that it would be irrational to continue accepting sub-
ordination as a valid belief and acting accordingly. This psychological state of discomfort leads B to avoid situations
that could reinforce it and to try to regain the lost coherence and harmony, that is, to change her previous behavior.
CASUSO 11

This becomes fully intelligible if we observe that when B relativizes the validity of her beliefs and detects an inconsis-
tency, her agency is temporarily blocked. In other words, this blockage occurs because cognitive dissonance is a form
of irrationality, and we have already seen that the presumption of rationality is precisely the condition of the agency.
The consequence is, in fact, that B may cease to obey A. But to reduce the dissonance, B needs to rearrange her
belief system and find new reasons for that change of attitude. Although the tendency is always to overcome the incon-
sistency to continue acting rationally, B cannot just arbitrarily replace one belief with another, for example, decide that
from now on, rather than to accept a subordinate role to A, the right thing to do is humiliate her. Similarly, B cannot
arbitrarily invent reasons to justify her new decisions. She must generate a certain social change, but not exert some
kind of individual transformational power over her environment—what Hegel linked to the idea of infinite autonomy
or the terrorism of the pure subjective attitude.
We have seen that for any change in the social world to be effective requires achieving new coherences and rebuild-
ing the “cracked fabric.” What B does is nothing other than to problematize a state of affairs, so that those new reasons
must also meet the established formation criteria for new solutions. Therefore, B should acquire social validity for her
beliefs, recovering rationality immanently. In that sense, she could, for example, attract public attention to the fact that
the concept of respect for authority does not include subordination as a necessary condition of its application, that the
social division of labor is independent of a strong hierarchical structure, and so on. Among the many ways to attract
social attention are, for example, creative or rowdy street demonstrations, artistic performances, the public ridicule of
authorities, and other forms of expression complementary to the exercise of formal public deliberation.
In fact, B would make use of an already latent normative potential in society, by virtue of which the new infer-
ences can be made intelligible and acceptable. By achieving that, B could also accelerate the social process of modifying
spaces of action which themselves modify the relevant concepts. She could refer to social practices that have already
begun to take shape and can prove more consistent with accepted general principles and ideals and embody improve-
ments regarding certain practices still in force. For instance, she may allude to examples of existing, but still infrequent,
corporate models where employer-employee relationships are more horizontal, where work and vacation schedules
are more flexible than in traditional ones, and so on.
In any case, this dissonance allows B to know that the current configuration of the space of reasons harbored poten-
tial contradictions that had previously gone unnoticed. Those inconsistencies clearly do not exist only in her mind, but
rather are correlated to the way the questioned social institution understands itself. This leads her to reveal that social
orders are not necessarily as consistent as they seem. Thus, the social correlate of dissonance in the individual’s own
belief system is the critique of (a section of the) society. Social criticism here simply means the ability of actors to detect
contradictions in a structure that tends to be immune to change by virtue of its apparent harmony but, by being consti-
tuted as the result of multiple processes of historical problem solving, it actually rests upon a contingent basis that is
susceptible to being disclosed. This critique should lead to a reorganization and transformation of inferential relations
in order to overcome the contradiction. The fact is that the irrationality the subject detects in her own belief system
also shows the limits of the social system and, in doing so, breaks its inscrutability and impermeability. It is therefore
not only a matter of a mismatch between belief and reality, but of detecting fissures in a texture that appears smooth
and perfect.8

7 THESIS 6

Fundamental exclusion enables immanent critique by virtue of the constant quest to restore
social rationality and internal consistency
Now let us recapitulate my previous arguments. In the light of some conclusive evidence, and always in relation to
a possible course of action, B experiences a dissonance in her belief system. This provides her with an opportunity
for disclosing and opening the space of reasons, that is, with the possibility of making the hitherto hidden inferential
links between her current beliefs explicit. In this situation, B cannot perceive the potential contradictions on which
12 CASUSO

her condition as subordinated is based. Thus, through such dissonance B comes to know (a) that unknowingly she had
been excluded, where “being excluded” means she cannot explicitly perceive those inferential links. But this epistemic-
cognitive exclusion is only one side of something more complex. It has a vanishing point to the extent that B may now
know, simultaneously, (b) that to be excluded from the space of reasons is the counterpart of her lack of a significant
role in the social processes of finding consistent solutions to problems that have historically arisen—that is, of her
non-participation in the constitutive social power—and that this is actually the root of the problem.
As we can see, these are precisely the two inseparable sides of what in the fourth thesis (section 5) I called fun-
damental exclusion. This disclosure and problematization of contradictions, however, represents at the same time an
experience that blocks rational agency, as now B needs to adduce cogent reasons that give sense to her new deci-
sions. This destabilizing awareness necessarily leads her to rethink and reconstitute the inferential links and therefore
to bring about social change. The subject will seek to reduce the dissonance and in order to do so she may (a) simply
accept heteronomously other factually existing reasons; or (b) seek to participate actively in the processes of justifi-
cation, that is, in the exchange of mutual perspectives aimed at collectively binding solutions. The latter involves the
reflexive and intersubjective creation of new reasons, this time under conditions of reciprocity. That implies, in other
words, the effective exercise of what Forst calls a right to justification; a right that allows free agency, which is not
the same as rational action. The subject will then aim to participate in such spaces of public exchange, as this will help
her to avoid additional exclusion once inferential links have been made explicit, demanding new justifications.9 This
additional dimension is precisely what I had called in the fourth thesis (section 5)—in order to distinguish it from
fundamental exclusion—discursive exclusion.
Hence, we arrive at the following picture. The most appropriate way to resolve the dissonance—to recover ratio-
nality, to rebuild consistency, and to enable free agency—is at once the means to correct the exclusion, understood as a
negative but inevitable effect of the processes of social constitution or the exercise of constitutive power. The dilemma,
as we have seen, is partly that B had not taken part in that constitutive power in the past—that could be said of virtually
everyone, because, as a matter of fact, one could say that A may also have been excluded, but her resistance to change
will be stronger, since the status quo benefits her. Therefore, after the disclosing of the space of reasons, she will try
to reinforce the existing inferential links with new evidence rather than question them. But this exclusion, moreover,
essentially tends to remain hidden under the guise of harmony, generating what is usually called ideology or hegemony
and leading to phenomena like reification and alienation, so that its effects and consequences cannot be overcome. To
be excluded means both: not to take part in constitutive power and not to be aware of the historical contingency of the
inferential links, the way they were formed, the social problems that led to their current configuration and, of course,
its potential fallibility.
Not knowing is, therefore, constituent of exclusion to the extent that it supports the concealment of exclusion.
Detecting contradictions allows us to become aware of having been excluded and fosters the reflexive rebuilding of
the network of reasons in dialogue with other affected agents. As Jaeggi reminds us, contradictions and the crises
that provoke their disclosure are not merely dysfunctions or blockades of agency, they also enable agency and, to that
extent, involve social learning processes (Jaeggi, 2013, pp. 375–391). They serve, as Dewey might also say, to improve
solutions to the problems that arise from within the forms of life themselves. As we have seen, these historically cre-
ated solutions, despite the internal consistency they presuppose, contain potential contradictions and, therefore, are
always corrigible.
But these contradictions are not made manifest immediately. In fact, properly, they do not exist until they are per-
ceived as such. The awareness of exclusion in the fundamental sense reveals that what an individual thought was con-
sistent because it justified her behavior actually has cracks, voids, and patches: it is, in other words, the imperfect
ground upon which new solutions are formed on the remnants of the old ones. It is a matter of revealing that there has
been exclusion, but until the apparent coherence is questioned it had not been noticed, because everything seemed
natural and necessary. The way fundamental exclusion is manifested at the phenomenal level is through the experience
of cognitive dissonance.
On this account, what for the system is a problem that in the long term could destabilize it, is for the subject an
opportunity to modify and rebuild the social fabric based on new evidence. This helps to answer the question posed
CASUSO 13

at the end of the third thesis (section 4) about how exclusion can be revealed if, from the perspective of a social order,
if it is invisible, incommunicable, and not even considered problematic. In its fundamental sense, exclusion cannot be
understood just as an objective fact or a state susceptible to being empirically analyzed and criticized, but as the finding
on the part of the affected individual—from a concrete negative experience, such as domination or submission—that
one is participating in an only seemingly rational structure. Therefore, the critical praxis that potentially comes out of
such an experience should serve to reveal the deficits of rationality that have taken place in the historical processes of
social learning and to accelerate the construction of new solutions.

NOTES
I presented earlier versions of this article at the 5th Annual Graduate Conference “Borders of Orders— Grenzziehungen,
Konflikte und soziale Ordnung” in Frankfurt (2014), at the the Philosophy and Social Science Conference in Prague (2015),
and the Second Conference on Critical Theory “Reasons: Freedom, Nature, and Possibility” in Lima (2015). I am grateful to the
members of the audience and the panelists of these conferences for their comments and critique. For their helpful suggestions
I would also like to express my debts and thanks to Rainer Forst, Rahel Jaeggi, Kurt Mertel, David Owen, Martin Saar and
Simon Susen.
1
This understanding of structural power is the outcome of a long and well-known debate in the field of social and political
theory, which has been well documented, among others, by Lukes (2005), Byung-Chul Han (2005), Zenkert (2004), Grewal
(2008), and Lovett (2010), and in which authors like Foucault (1976, 1997) and Bourdieu (1996, 2001) have played an impor-
tant role. Although a correct understanding of the non-agential nature of this form of power is central to my research, it
differs substantially from the concept of constitutive social power, understood as the positive side of fundamental exclusion,
the study of which study is the true object of this work. The particularities of this second form of power—as well as its organic
links with key concepts from social ontology and philosophy of language and mind—will become clearer in the development
of the article.
2 Miranda Fricker introduces a useful distinction between agential and structural power. Agential power corresponds approx-

imately both to what Wartenberg calls dyadic power, and to what I have been calling its relational character. With this term
Fricker refers to the concrete relationship between A and B (or C, D and so on), in which Searle’s constraints of both inten-
tionality and exactness are fulfilled. However, during the exercise of structural power the agent cannot be clearly identified,
since its functioning depends on a complex network of heterogeneous practices and institutions, as well as on the indirect
contribution of other agents who, by mere compliance with their social roles or simply because of their position in the social
field, condition from outside the decision of B within her dyadic relationship with A without necessarily intending to. So, like
Wartenberg’s situated conception of power, structural power operates on a subject B when (deliberately or not) an alignment
takes place between diverse practices and social agents who, at one point, function as coordinated forces favoring the inten-
tions of A (Wartenberg, 1991, pp. 146–152). However, unlike Wartenberg, Fricker does not believe that an agent is always
required in order to exercise control over B (or C, or D), since that individual intentional agent could be replaced by the pure
inertia or tendency toward the self-preservation of the social order. From this perspective, both Wartenberg’s dyadic and
situated social power are agential. For Fricker, the social power is rather “a practically socially situated capacity to control
other’s actions, where this capacity may be exercised (actively or passively) by particular social agents, or alternatively, it may
operate purely structurally” (Fricker, 2007, p. 13).
3
I call second-order reasons those based on the social value of X, which is (implicitly or explicitly) shared by both A and B, while
first-order reasons are those which may differ for A and B. For instance, the first-order reason of B for wanting to participate
in a research group (X) may be to gain personal prestige in her university, while that of A for excluding her would be to preserve
the excellence of this group (assuming that B does not reach such standards). By contrast, second-order reasons result directly
from the institutional value owned by the participation in research groups. The belief in that value is shared by A and B (and
potentially by any other university member).
4
Here I am distinguishing (a) institutional reasons (still based on the normative force of the factual) from (b) reasons based on
personal decisions that can be sustained by wishes, preferences, or emotions (like Hume), or the sense of duty (as in Kant). On
this, see Brandom (2000, pp. 79–96).
5
“Learning the language is not just learning to use a set of stock expressions which everybody else uses too. One has not learned
the language, has not acquired the capacity to engage in the social practices which are the use of the language, until one can
produce novel sentences which the community will deem appropriate, and understand the appropriate novel utterances of
other members of the community (where the criterion for this capacity is the ability to make inferences deemed appropriate
by the community)” (Brandom, 1979, p. 193). Using a Hegelian idea, Brandom speaks of a positive or expressive freedom, of a
power to create that is not restricted to individual ability and whose necessary condition of possibility is the constraint of the
rules governing social practices. To be constrained by rules means mastering tacitly the know-how to be able to orient oneself
in a system of rules and beliefs.
14 CASUSO

6
For alternative interpretations of this topic see Putnam (1992), Honneth (2000) and Young (2000).
7 The limits of many political theories lie in their emphasis on designing the political institutions and mechanisms that should
serve to prevent the second form of exclusion. This neglects the fundamental aspects of the problem; namely, how certain
reasons and not others may come to play a role as reciprocal exchange units for participants in the dialogue. Thus, for exam-
ple, Iris Young distinguishes between external or procedural exclusion, defined as the inability to enter into the deliberative
spaces, and internal exclusion, which, for extra-discursive reasons continues to operate within these realms and is expressed
as the inability to participate meaningfully, as not to be taken seriously into consideration because of social stigmas, preju-
dices, and other structural hidden symbolic elements that do not belong to the dyadic relationship that denotes the exchange
of reasons (Young, 2000, pp. 52–67).
8
This naturally does not deny that there may be other means of triggering social criticism. The work of Jaeggi (2013) and
Honneth (2007), for example, present various forms of criticism and its triggers. As I mentioned at the beginning of the arti-
cle, there are different (explicit) ways of exercising power over, or even various intentional forms of exclusion that can be easily
identified and are therefore open to criticism. However, in this article I did not want to concentrate on these forms of power
over, but rather on the category of fundamental exclusion as a residue of the exercise of constitutive power, which is, in prin-
ciple, neutral. I want to show that cognitive dissonance is related to precisely this form of power, which in turn, provides a
methodological resource to explain how hidden distortions and latent contradictions in apparently consistent products of
socio-constitutive processes can be made explicit.
9 This does not happen only in the formal and institutionally recognized spaces of deliberation, but also has to do with what
Bourdieu calls “symbolic struggles,” that is, with alternative social ways of accelerating processes of collective questioning of
meanings, values, beliefs, practices, or institutions.

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AUTHOR’S BIOGRAPHY

Gianfranco Casuso is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, where he also
directs the Research Group of Critical Theory. He is a member of the Human Development and Capability Associ-
ation, the Internationale Hegel-Gesellschaft, among others. He is the author of the book Dimensionen der Exklusion.
Sozialphilosophische Beiträge zu Demokratie und Macht (2013), and many articles in academic journals.

How to cite this article: Casuso G. Power and dissonance: Exclusion as a key category for a critical social anal-
ysis. Constellations. 2017;00:1-15. https://doi.org/10.1111/1467-8675.12289