Tough Guys Dont Care: Care, Violence and Responsibility (Note: my dear colleagues, I had forgotten until it was

too late that I had switched the date for this colloquium from next week to this week. This paper therefore is quite rough around the edges and could use another week to become barely presentable. I apologize for its many gaps and warts; but I hope that it generates an important discussion about the gendered nature of violence, and about the relationship of care, gender, violence, and responsibility. J. Tronto.) Ludovic, the young boy protagonist in Alain Berliners film Ma Vie en Rose (1997) presumed that he would someday fulfill his dream and turn into a girl. It is lucky for Ludovic that he is not a middle school or high school boy in the United States today; where the boundaries of being a boy are intensely policed by boys in search of gays and fags. As Judith Warner recounts, boys are hounding some of their classmates to suicide for being different, either sexually sartorially, or in terms of academic ambition (Warner 2009). As Warner notes, it is ironic that as what it means to be a man becomes more vague in the culture as a whole, boys take deeper offense to their notions of masculinity. Within other sub-cultures within the USA, gang membership increases as (primarily) boys seek ways to identify themselves as worthy adults. These developments are a sign of a time of anxiety, but we can also see it as a crisis of caring. As long as masculinity continues to be constructed around the idea that tough guys dont care, no society can become fully caring. Furthermore, for a variety of historical reasons that we will explore, citizenship has been associated with men and constructions of masculinity (Kershaw 2005; Leonard and Tronto 2007). As a result, citizenship has been effectively disconnected from caring. To overstate the point a bit: since citizens are the people who do not care, care has been the realm of non-citizens. As a result, few if any societies have yet been able to meet the demands of women (who disproportionately do care work) to become full citizens. While we usually explore this question

by looking at the exclusion of women from public life, here I consider how the constructions of masculinity and maleness perpetuate this seemingly intractable problem. In this essay, I shall proceed in the following manner. First, I shall argue that men dont care; that is, I shall review evidence that care is gendered. Then I shall argue that this position is wrong: men do care, but their care is not identified as such. I shall then go more deeply into some of the consequences of constructing masculinity against care, by exploring notions of autonomy and dependency and the relationship of care and violence. Finally, I shall offer an account of responsibility that I hope can open up for us a more complex way of understanding care and democratic social responsibilities. By recognizing ourselves as Care Receivers All! we will be able to clear the ground for rethinking masculinity and femininity and citizenship. I. Men Dont Care: Everybody Knows That! The Stalled Revolution and Responsibility The first and most obvious point to notice as we turn to see how caring is actually practiced in contemporary society is that caring is gendered. Men do much less of the caring work than women. Caring is also marked by race, ethnicity, and class. While many men do caring work, those whose work is most clearly caring and so described is done by men of color and by men from the working class. Of course, there has been some improvement in this situation. More men do some carework now than, say, two generations ago. And while the generalization holds true, it is also the case that within some groups in the society, among working class people, some racial and ethnic groups, the distribution of care is different and men are both better prepared for caring and are willing to take on more of the caring work. But in general, and across societies, it is remarkable how persistently care is viewed through a gendered lens: care is womens work.

But if democratic caring is to mean anything, then we need to consider the unequal burdens of care (Folbre 2001). Men dont do care, and well-to-do professional (white) men seem to care the least, so it seems; and we need to ask: why? From the standpoint of responsibility for care, this point is even more obvious. While men are now somewhat more likely to be engaged in some caring work, men are rarely engaged in organizing care. But if, in a democratic society, we expect the burdens of care to be shared by all, then the unfulfilled half of the feminist agenda is not only to move women into the work force, but to require that men take up their fair share of the burdens of care. But though women have moved into the workforce, propelled in part by social movements, public policy, as well as economic realities, the second part of this change, mens movement to more traditional forms of care, remains, as Arlie Hochschild labeled it, The Stalled Revolution. A stalled revolution may be a sign of many things, but one thing that it may signify is that its revolutionary vision was inadequate. The argument that I want to make here is that the stalled revolution is stalled around its one-sided concern to make women citizens by including them in the public realm, without making the obverse claim that until men participate fully in caring the revolution remains incomplete. To make this argument, though, we have to first notice that no system of injustice operates without some logic of its own. And thus to unpack the ways any system is unjust requires more than an assertion that it is a matter of simple justice. An important way to think about justice and righting past wrongs is to think in terms of responsibility. Every social order organizes and dispenses responsibilities as well as rights and duties. In an unjust social order, there are nonetheless claims about the correctness of the way that society has organized its

responsibilities. And people have managed, somehow, no matter how great the injustices, to cope with their lot. Part of the obscurities of our current world and our inabilities to have honest political discussions about matters of great importance, then, have to do with our inability to make judgments about who is responsible. And so by being able to control the we, some are able to affect the apportioning of responsibility without really owning up to the responsibility of setting these conditions. Such absences are vitally important in shaping how political discussions go forward. Who is excluded, who can absent themselves from appropriating responsibility is as important as who is at the table. Margaret Walker describes how we can determine the justness of a society by considering how it allocates responsibility. Once can be absent from the table because one is excluded and wants to be there, or because one wishes not to be bothered with the questions that have to be resolved at this particular table. To make this decision whether or not to be presenthas as much effect on the outcome as who actually sits at the table and what they do there. This matter is greatly complicated, of course, by the fact that the table always has a context. There is a history among these people and past decisions and judgments shape what can be decided now. One never begins to think about responsibility with a clean slate.1 On the other hand, thinking about the allocation of responsibility as if it were a game, or some other highly concrete activity in which individuals are making judgments about their roles and the roles of others is perhaps a good way to think about responsibility. In a democratic society, we might presume to answer that everyone in the society should be around the table. But with limited time and resources, not everyone will be involved in every
1

Two thinkers who, in very different contexts, make a similar point are: Margaret Walker, who discusses justice after wrong-doing (Walker 2006), and Naomi Klein, who argues that that trying the Friedmanesque wish for a clean slate in anti-humanistic (Klein 2007).

decision about allocating responsibility. One way to think about a societys political values, in the broadest possible terms, is to ask the question, what are the primary decisions that have been made about the allocation of responsibility? For example, if a society leaves questions about how much and what kind of education children should receive to their parents, then one allocation of a basic responsibility has been made about who sits at the table and makes judgments about the childs education. Whether this is a wise decision never reoccurs on the political agenda because the prior allocation to a very narrow circle of responsibility has already occurred. On the other end of this spectrum, allocations of responsibility within circles of responsibility also operates on a global level. If democracy should be a global value, the artificial limit of national sovereignty seems an unsatisfying answer to the question of whom to seat within the circles of responsibility that concern the safety and flourishing of people around the world (Goodhart 2005). Within the past fifty years, political theorists have devoted a great deal of attention to the excluded, and I shall do so here as well. But one of the points that needs as fully to be recognized is the role and place of the absent. In this essay I want especially to concentrate on the role of the absent, they who avail themselves of privileged irresponsibility. They do so, not because they are possessed of some unearned and unjustifiable privilege (for example, what McIntosh has called white skin privilege)2 though such privileges also exist. Instead, they do so by claiming (or operating on the unspoken claim) that they have other responsibilities elsewhere that keep them from sitting down and this table and resolving these responsibilities. They believe that they get a pass.
2

In recent years, it has become popular to use the language of privilege to mean the opposite of what it once meant. Privilege originally referred to an earned benefit: for example, admittance to the faculty club is a benefit that comes from membership in it, and one has had to do something (either join the faculty or apply for admission to the club) to be a member. Now privilege is likely to mean an unearned status such as membership in a dominant racial group.

In concrete terms, the usual arguments for sitting out on the distribution of daily caring responsibilities are a series of such passes. They include, for example, the production pass (Im busy working), the protection pass (Im busy, protecting others), the personal responsibility pass (Im busy, taking care of myself), the parenting pass (Im busy spending time with my kids) and as I will discuss in this essay, the citizenship pass (Were busy, taking care of ourselves). Whether or not these arguments will hold up is the kind of question that Walkers ethics of responsibility asks us to consider. And we can expand an account of such passes to see other ways in which individuals, and societies, pass on their responsibilities. My goal in this talk is to describe how masculinity and assumptions about mens proper roles translate into views about responsibilities. If we are not attentive to how the existing sense of responsibility is constructed, then we will not be able to analyze where and how change is necessary in order to unstall the revolution. Men Dont Care Much We begin by stating the obvious: women do most of the caring work in society. This is true both in the household and in the realm of formal, paid work. Different groups within society deviate somewhat from this standard account of patterns of care. Among the elderly, men often are responsible for becoming the primary care giver to their infirm wives. Increasing numbers of middle-aged men are taking care of aged parents. Among gay men, networks of care exist that have arisen to provide care as a result of the AIDS crisis. Nevertheless, men do seem to care less. In a democratic society, we might expect that such burdens would be equally shared. Since that is not true, we need to ask, why not? Immediately we enter a world of complex intersections of what is presumed to be natural, what is historically determined, and what seems philosophically justified. The point is not that men

have been excused from ever being involved in caring. The point is that men have been able to use several broad ways of distributing responsibility in society to get a pass out of the kinds of caring work that we associate with women: caring for children, providing the basic necessities of life in the household, caring for the elderly and the infirm. Through the deployment of these passes, a gendered division of caring work has remained in place that requires closer scrutiny, both from the standpoint of sharing better the burdens of care, and from the standpoint of the spheres and activities that are privileged by these passes. We shall discuss in turn, then, the production pass and the protection pass. In the modern age, work has become physically separated from the household. Although among the working class women and children have often worked outside the home as well as men, the model that has emerged as the model of work organization in modern thought presumes that the male breadwinner/head of household works outside of the household and the wife and children remain at home, homemaking. The content of homemaking has changed over the last many centuries, of course; contemporary households are able to purchase as commodities on the market many useful items that were, in previous times, labor-intensive home projects and products. The content and solidity of work for men has been a source of anxiety throughout

the modern period, but in the last several decades the precariousness of permanent full-time employment for men as resulted in their attachment to the work force becoming labeled as feminized. In light of all of these changes, the classic breadwinner/homemaker model is becoming even less prevalent in reality, but it is worth paying it some heed first, to gain our bearings. Often arguments about allocations of responsibility are not necessarily based on the most current realities.

The main argument of the production pass goes like this: I am excused from household care because I am engaged in extra-household production. Bringing home the paycheck constitutes a form of responsibility by providing for the economic needs of a family. Any forms of care, i.e., meeting needs, that go beyond that provision are rightfully someone elses responsibility. That this ideological frame, and not concrete structural conditions such as the amount of time available, is what is determining the amount of household work done by men and women, boys and girls, seems to be supported by some of the empirical evidence on household work. Gender trumps money in negotiating household time, observe Bitman et. al., until the woman earns more than the men, in which case there is even a stronger reversion to traditional gender patterns (Bittman et al. 2003). In an analysis of data from a variety of advanced industrial nations, the best predictor of mens increased time spent in housework, furthermore, seems to be the mans gender ideology, not his or his wifes working time (Nordenmark 2004). The more egalitarian the mans gender ideology, the greater the share of household work that he does. The depth of this pattern is perhaps surprising. Among children in Canada, the amount of household work that is required by parents differs by gender, and the alternative hypothesis, that boys have less time to do household work, is not supported (Cheal 2003). And though there is much anecdotal data that among African-Americans, boys are taught by their mothers to cook and clean, a recent large survey discovered no difference among black and white men in their actual contributions to households, except in terms of the level of financial support (Sarkisian and Gerstel 2004). The experience of becoming a parents increases the unequal amount of work done in the household (Fox 2001). Women already suffer more from such inequalities (MacDonald et al. 2005; Phipps et al. 2001) than do men. Why do mothers persist in teaching

their sons and daughters patterns of unequal housework, or, why do pattern changes that mothers try to effect not succeed? Several cultural, social, and political processes are probably at work here. One is the desire that boys be raised to be masculine, and while the notion of masculinity is constantly being re-evaluated in every culture, masculinity is in part defined by an avoidance of the feminine. As long as care is seen as feminine, boys are excused from care lest they become feminized. Any boy who cares in too many feminine ways may become a sissy, even worse, gay, and as a result, parents are willing to excuse uncaring behavior in their little man in order that he become properly masculine by avoiding feminine care. (Carol Gilligan describes this change in the behavior of boys away from being more demonstrative about their love around age 4 to 5, around the time when gender roles are becoming a primary cognitive issue for boys. See (Gilligan 2002) A second reason is the importance of the association of men with work. Beginning in the eighteenth century when household and workplace became separated, middle class mens roles became deeply associated with work to earn an income. We will explore this point more thoroughly in a moment, but for now it is interesting to recall that the work ethic as Max Weber describes it in The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism entails many of the qualities of modern masculinity, not modern femininity (Bologh 1990). Insofar as the pursuit of work is still deeply gendered (men are expected to work, while womens association with the workforce is expected to be moderated by roles as wife and mother), the definition of work as ones primary identity or role makes it possible to take the production pass out of household responsibility (Kershaw 2005).

II. OrPerhaps Men Do Care? A second part of the argument here will seem even more striking. Men do care, they (and society) dont label their care as care. Instead, we conceive of the care work that men do as something else, as forms of production and protection. Many scholars, including me, have argued that care is largely private. I argued, wrongly I now think, that care is generally accorded a place either above or below politics (Tronto 1996). I argued that care is not political, on the one hand, because it is too base to be a part of politics and thus more attached to a realm of necessity than to a realm of freedom. On the other hand, care is not political because it is too exalted to be a part of politics and thus more attached to a realm of charity that transcends politics. Both of these accounts, however, accept the realist view about the proper realm of politics. Although it is thus wrong to equate a noncaring approach as essential to all politics, this has been the way to emphasize the realist, and masculinist, account of politics. This realist view of politics has been extremely important both in using and maintaining gender domination in political life. Nevertheless, as a description of why realists find it useful to obscure the role of care in political life, I would now modify that argument. The historical process by which cares political role is obscured is more complicated and involves a more complicated shaping of the relationship of gender, care, and politics. It involves, in the first analytic instance separating care from what men do, and then ignoring the ways in which work ascribed to men is part of the realm of care. In this way, work that has been designated as

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care is marked as feminine and is placed outside of the public realm, either above it or below it, but work that is left within the public realm is never called care. Production. A first way in which men care is through their breadwinner role. Beginning with the separation of household from production, mens role as breadwinner has been the primary way in which men conceived of themselves as caring responsible adults. By caring for their family by bringing home money to allow the household to buy necessities in the marketplace, men do care by being breadwinners. At the turn of the twentieth century, arguments about the family wage inscribed this pattern of split care. These arguments, made by labor unions at the time, suggested that a household in which mens wages were sufficiently high to provide for their entire family was the most humane way to organize the political economy. Alice KesslerHarris noted that in some ways it worked against the interests of women as workers (Kessler-Harris 2003). It was also a nativist, race-privileging argument (Goodwin 2004). As feminist scholars have long argued, Marshalls model of the citizen as worker bifurcates mens and womens roles into those of breadwinner and wife (Knijn and Kremer 1997). Amy Bridges discussed how this model creates the other side of the paycheck, where women became responsible for transforming the paycheck into a way of life (Bridges 1979). Much has been written about the ways in which the notion of the breadwinner has distorted and blocked feminist attempts to rethink citizenship (Kershaw 2005; Kershaw et al. 2008). But our point at the moment is to notice how thoroughly this account of waged work versus house work also served as a system for allocating care responsibility. Since

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money is an essential good for households, the money-earner cared for his family in this way. That men no longer earn all of the income in their households has not changed this ideology entirely, and much of the ongoing negotiation about contemporary family formswhether one takes change as a good or interesting possibility (e.g., (Stacey 1990) or as a disaster for traditional values (e.g., the view of Promise Keepers (Berger et al. 1995; Newton 2005; Willis 1999)still revolves around the question of the meaning of masculinity as mens role within the family is no longer simpler or totally that of breadwinner. Nevertheless, this is a primary form of identifying men with care. To ignore it is to ignore an important dimension of responsibility that needs to be undone before progress is possible. The consequences of this unacknowledged care role for men are quite serious, and I shall discuss some of them later. For now, it is important to note that this separation of caring roles continues to reify the split between public and private life. It devalues care that is unpaid. It creates, or sustains, the presumption that care is a wifes responsibility. Some of these attitudes help feed into the argument about violence that we shall see shortly. Protection. A second form of mens noncaring care (i.e., mens work that is actually care) is protection. There are two kinds of protection that are significant for us to mention. The first, the work of protecting the community, and performed by such masculine care-givers as firefighters and police officers, is the work that was called in the eighteenth century police. The police powers still extend broadly to include

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provisions for public health, safety, and education. Modern policing has become militarized and masculinized and receives unquestioned public support, but it is a kind of care work. As women become police officers, they need to negotiate a conception of being women in a masculine position, but men also need to negotiate the nature of the masculinist assumptions built into contemporary policing (Herbert 1997; McElhinny 1994). Indeed, some police officials have asserted that women are better at policing because they are more likely to assess a situation before they try to take control of it (New Haven police chief on 60 minutesfind ref) If protection is a kind of care, why is it not discussed as such? The answer is that hiding the caring dimension of protection allows those who are in control of protective work to earn themselves the protection pass out of responsibility for other, more feminized forms, of care work. And the capacity to keep these boundaries between care and protection in place help to maintain the gendered hierarchy of men above women. While the police may be viewed as heroes, they are also servants. Protect and serve is the motto of the Los Angeles police department, emblazoned on police cars viewed throughout the world in Hollywood television and film productions. The stereotype of the Irish cop in New York might disguise the fact that, when the Irish were discriminated against because of their religion, such relatively non-prestigious roles as police and fire fighter were the ones open to them. The military, once the realm of all male citizens, has been converted in recent decades in the United States to an avenue of upward mobility for those who are less well off in the society. And within the military itself, those feminized care tasks that were once performed by conscripts are now

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performed by outsourced men from third world countries, continuing the hierarchy that what men do is fight. The care work that has been marked as feminine is the care work that has been only suspiciously associated with public life. Indeed, perhaps one reason why there was no objection to making education public is that, at the time of debates about publicizing education, men taught school. It was only when it became clear that women could be hired for considerably less money that this occupation was turned over to women and became a natural extension of the maternal, rather than the paternal, role (Deckard 1983; Carter 2002). The second form of protection that men historically provide is in their role as soldiers. In protecting the political unit from its enemies, the soldier cares for its citizens, the fatherland or motherland, and its values. It is easy to discount this activity as caring, but surely for centuries this language has been used to justify sending sons to war (Ruddick 1989). As Cynthia Enloe often reminds us, masculinity is not the same thing as militarism, but militarized societies adopt an account of masculinity in which the man as soldier, with its attendant commitments to hierarchy, dualistic thinking, and so forth, are extremely powerful (Enloe 2004b, 2002, 2004a). Other theorists have also observed how thoroughly military activity is associated with, and offers a more robust and favorable account, of masculinity (Faludi 2000; Goldstein 2001). In light of this association, the kind of caring that is offered by the military is deeply gendered. Protection From Whom? Another dimension of the protection problem is an answer to the question, protection from whom? Iris Young recalled the old Mae West story, in her essay about

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protection. Men are always offering to protect me, said West, I ask them, what will you protect me from? Women need protection from men, citizens need protection from enemies that their governments have provoked. Young does not deny that there is danger in the world, but she does suggest that sometimes the forms of danger that exist are created by, or perpetuated by, the very structures of protection that exist. Young asserts that there is a greater danger if citizens simply accept the story about the need for protection. She ends her argument by calling for a more adult assessment of danger (a brave claim to make, by the way, in the USA as it began its war in Iraq) (Young 2003). There are many consequences of the view of masculine non-care in the form of protection. But one of the most interesting pieces of this point is the way in which it constructs the recipients of its care. Another aspect to the distinction between masculine and feminine care, however, that is relevant to the nature of citizenship, and it concerns the question of who receives these two different types of care. Recipients of masculine care are perceived, by their nature, to be citizens who, for one reason or another, find themselves in extremis. Recipients of feminine care, on the other hand, are people who are somehow dependent: children, the disabled, the ill and infirm, the elderly. As long as most American citizens are able to delude themselves into thinking that they do not receive care, then they are able to exclude the needy from full citizenship and their care-givers from full citizenship (see Kittay 2001). Thus, women are vulnerable because they are weak. Women need protection because they are weak. Men may sometimes need protection, but it is not because they

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are weak. What effect does this difference have on the ways in which protection narratives, and excuses from responsibility for other care work, play out? In truth, this last point requires us to pursue a bit more philosophically the ways in which care, and masculine versus feminine care, may hide other deeper dimensions of the gender separation between men and women. It is to this task that we turn next.

III. Constructing Masculinity Against Care: Some Consequences

If men do care, it is an important question about why their caring work is not understood as such, and why men appear to be invulnerable to the needs of care. In this section, I want to speculate about the very deep philosophical reasons why such views make sense. Here I do not want to claim that the gendered care scripts that exist in our society, and the passes out of responsibility games that we have examined previously are simply a result of mens desire to shirk responsibilities. Rather, there are some deep philosophical questions that justify the current ways of thinking about these questions. Once we have exposed what this underlying logic is, then it might be possible to raise more open questions about the nature of these gendered scripts of responsibility.

Autonomy and Dependency revisited One central knot to untangle in understanding the relationship of care, gender, and citizenship was alluded to in recognizing that, in traditional care, the receiver of care is dependent. Indeed, in a book entitled The Subject of Care, the editors, Eva Feder Kittay and Ellen K. Feder, describe the subject of care in the subtitle as feminist perspectives

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on dependency. For them, to be a subject of care, actually, the object of care is to be dependent. And they argue that all humans are inevitably dependent at least during part of their lives (pp. 1-2)(Feder and Kittay 2002) I dont think we can understand the seriousness of the question of dependency until we see it in relationship to autonomy. One writer who may help us understand how autonomy became the opposite of dependency is Rousseau. As someone whose autobiographical writings describe in some detail the

indignities that he suffered as a servant, Rousseau knew intimately the stinging harm to the self that dependency can create. As John Charvet (Charvet 1974) long ago argued, Rousseaus writings were largely animated by his desire to avoid dependency. Following Charvet, the still convincing argument made by Judith Shklar (Shklar 1969) is that Rousseaus great texts in political theory can be organized around the theme of dependency. In The Social Contract, Rousseau defines the problem he wishes to address as forming an association in which one surrenders everything, but no more than any other. "Each of us puts his person and all his power in common under the supreme direction of the general will, and, in our corporate capacity, we receive each member as an indivisible part of the whole." (S.C. I.6) While we are all dependent upon this general will, then, none of us are dependent upon others. If we cannot create such a perfectly legitimate political state, though, then

Rousseau proposes that we imagine the recreation of a free, non-dependent person in Emile. Emile is tutored by a man who never punishes nor restricts the freedom of his ward. Emile learns about the world, but remains free and independent. The

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tutor, of course, is an interesting figure; we may well wonder why he has been willing to surrender so many years of his life to the task of raising Emile. It is almost as if the tutor is as selfless as a mother; he is a non-female mother. Thus, Rousseaus fantasy of a man-child raised without ever experiencing dependency can come to be so. As many commentators have noticed, though, there is a price to pay for

Emiles independence. Sophie, the mate fashioned for Emile, is by her nature dependent, as are all women, on her needs and desires for him. As Rousseau patiently explains gender and sex difference to us in Book V of Emile: Men and women are made for each other, but their mutual dependence differs in degree; man is dependent on woman through his desires; woman is dependent on man through her desires and also through her needs; he could do without her better than she can do without him. She cannot fulfil her purpose in life without his aid, without his goodwill, without his respect; she is dependent on our feelings, on the price we put upon her virtue, and the opinion we have of her charms and her deserts. Nature herself has decreed that woman, both for herself and her children, should be at the mercy of man's judgment.3 (Emile V) If women are dependent upon their husbands, it is clear that Rousseaus unanswered question in the Social Contract, can women participate actively in

Among the many intriguing aspects of this passage is that Rousseau stops writing in the third person and begins writing in the first person halfway through it. There is an extensive feminist literature on Rousseau and Emile, see, e.g., Okin, Marso, Wingrove, Hirschmann. See also Morgenstern, Rosenblatt, etc. etc.

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politics, is no. Such dependent creatures would have no capacity to discern and apply themselves to the general will, and indeed, To cultivate the masculine virtues in women and to neglect their own is evidently to do them an injury. Women are too clear-sighted to be thus deceived; when they try to usurp our privileges they do not abandon their own; with this result: they are unable to make use of two incompatible things, so they fall below their own level as women, instead of rising to the level of men. The discussion of gender roles suggests that the family will bolster a mans sense of autonomy by creating for him a relationship of dependency, but not his, in the household. Furthermore, since he will come to see his role as that of defender of his household, he will be able to make judgments about others, learning there to exercise the kinds of judgments he will need to make in public life. In his novel Julie, St. Preux reports that in the glorified republican Swiss canton of Valais, the family is the image of the state. (quoted by Botting, at 42) As Botting describes it, Rousseau wanted the rural family to act as a small fatherland in which the natural affections between family members would inspire the practice of the mouers, or moral codes, necessary for the smooth functioning of an authentic republic grounded on popular sovereignty(Botting 2006) p. 6. Thus, from the dependency of other family members, citizens are inspired to

act autonomously and well as republican citizens. The end result of such a view is that the gendered divisions are necessary, that without the dependence of some, others cannot become fully autonomous. This account of autonomy and

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dependency, which Susan Okin long ago labeled functional, is troubling for anyone who would try to transform dependents into autonomous citizens. Just as gender is often bifurcated, so too is the distinction between autonomy and dependence. What it means to be dependent is to lack autonomy. But there is another dimension of dependence that makes its relationship to autonomy complex. To be dependent is to be vulnerable. Again, Kittay and Feder: We mean to speak of those persons who are dependent on an other in order to meet essential needs that they are unable to meet themselves because of their youth, severe illness, disability, or frail old age. Persons who are dependent in this sense, we suggest, are inevitably so, while other dependencies are not inevitable but are derivative of or constructed by social arrangements. (fn omitted, p. 2) Thus, for Kittay and Feder, and others, what it means to be dependent is to have essential needs that one cannot meet for oneself. This autonomy-dependency dichotomy Val Plumwood, for example, an important eco-feminist, describes post-Cartesian dualisms as always creating a structure of master and other categories (Plumwood 1993). The two pieces of the dualism are not in any way of equal worth, one is valuable, the other, not valuable. But Plumwood takes her

argument much further by also observing that there are a number of characteristics that seem always to fit dualisms. Among these, the most important are backgrounding, where the usefulness of the other to the master is denied, and instrumentalism, where the other serves the master with no, or limited, recognition. (Bruce and Krueger 1996)at 477. But what is important about backgrounding here is that the quality of the other is in fact present in the master, but denied.

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Autonomy and dependency operate as this sort of dichotomy, and make it impossible to recognize that all autonomous persons are also dependent. It makes no sense to describe essential needs that others fulfill as separable from those socially constructed needs that do not result in inevitable dependency. Feminist theorists of autonomy, however, coming at this question from the other side, have been willing to describe the ways in which all autonomy is relational. Feminist theorists who have written about relational autonomy emphasize that sometimes decisions that appear to be the result of a choice may nonetheless violate ones autonomy. As Carolyn McLeod and Susan Sherwin explain this perspective: Whereas traditional accounts concern themselves only with judging the ability of the individual to act autonomously in the situation at hand, relational autonomy asks us to take into account the impact of social and political structures, especially sexism and other forms of oppression, on the lives and opportunities of individuals. . . .In particular, a relational view of autonomy encourages us to understand that the best way of responding to oppressions restrictive influence on an individuals ability to act autonomously is to change the oppressive conditions of her life, not to try to make her better adapt to (or simply to manage to overcome) those conditions privately. (p. 260)(McLeod and Sherwin 2000) Annette Baier talks about autonomy from the standpoint of human development, such that we are always in the second person, always becoming human through our interactions with other humans. From these alternative accounts of autonomy, it becomes clear that any account of autonomy that seeks to expel all forms of dependency in order to become pure are mistaken, and attempting to achieve some other end.

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Our capacity to define our own needs might be one way to describe what it means to be autonomous. But as long as we remains pulled to a conception of autonomy in order to define our essential human qualities, we will inevitably fall into these discussions of what is truly autonomous, what not, and some being dependent upon others. I think we discover that autonomy was taken as a solution to the kinds of

dependency created by assumptions of human inequality. Consider, again, Rousseau: Rousseaus efforts to avoid dependency are also in evidence. Rousseau himself had suffered deep indignities in his life when he worked as a servant. Recounting the tale of an evening in which Rousseau was serving at a dinner party and spoke to correct a guests comment about his masters heraldic motto, his recent biographer Leopold Damrosch comments, somewhat hyperbolically, "It was as if a piece of furniture had spoken up." (Damrosch 2005) p. 65. While in his ideal Rousseau might have imagined a life without servants, there is scant evidence of it. He does include this exclamation in the Profession of Faith of a Savoyard Vicar passage of Emile: We will be our own servants, in order to be our own masters. (Rousseau 1979), p. 352. Many commentators have taken Rousseau on his word at this point, for example Judith Shklar, who observes: If in Rousseau's case apprenticeship, vagrancy and domestic service did not lead to a rejection of all authority, they did fill him with a deep contempt for all the cruel and incompetent masters of this world, in fact for all actual masters. Being themselves corrupt, they can only maim and hurt those doomed to serving them....The reason why servants cheat and steal is that the masters are usurpers, liars, and fools. (131)

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But in his actual portrayals of households in his novels, Rousseau does not envision a household without servants. In the Nouvelle Heloise, Wolmars relationships with the servants are discussed at length. And again in Julie, St. Preuxs account of the household in the Valois recounts that, while master and servant kept those roles most of the time, they were permitted to sit at the dinner table. If the servants are sitting at the table, though, who then waited on the tables? St. Preux continued, that the wife and daughters of the household wait at table like domestics. (Botting, quoting Rousseau at p. 42). But were we are able to start from an assumption of some rough form of

human equality, we could perhaps shift the terrain of autonomy and its focus then on freedom, right, and duties, to a notion of responsibility. In responsibility, humans recognize themselves as formed in relationship and thus capable of, and necessarily involved in, processes of determining the shape and limits of ones commitments and obligations to others. The achievement of autonomy was to separate the self from particular others so that ones reliance on them occurred equally and mechanically. There was no fear of being swallowed up or consumed in the other if one were autonomous. In thinking about responsibility, those fears are also not present if we presume, as Margaret Walker does in her account of an ethics of responsibility, that the nature of responsibility is that we are always in positions of negotiating responsibilities with others (Walker 1998). In Walkers ethic of responsibility, an expressive-collaborative model of morality, one looks at moral life as a continuing negotiation among people (Walker, 60). As Lorraine Code describes this view, Beginning and ending in practices of responsibility, both

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epistemic and moral, this model shifts attention to questions about how moral agents, singly and cooperatively, express their sense of self, situation, community, and agency in the responsibilities they discover and/or claim as theirs. Expressing and claiming are no impersonal processes but the actions of specifically identified, located deliberators, trying to work out how to live well in the circumstances in which they find themselves; starting not from an unstructured, uncontaminated original position but from the possibilities and constraints consequent upon the hand they have been dealt. (Code, 160). This approach displaces formulaic deduction from theoretical principles with negotiated understandings; and displaces legislation from first principles or categorical imperatives with cooperative engagement in producing habitable communities, environments, and ways of life. (160) (Code 2002) We are now in a better place to understand why the kinds of responsibility games that I described earlier are not congruent with the political theories that emphasize rights and duties that must be fixed in advance. But their origins in the fear of dependency, a fear associated with being feminized, is a serious one. I hope that I have argued that since autonomy is an achievement (cf Baier and Tronto), it should not serve as the starting point for our ideas about who are worthy citizens. Insofar as this notion of autonomy, with its backgrounded notion of dependency, remains the way that we view citizens, then we cannot rethink the masculinist exclusion of care. Better to understand everyone as involved in relations of care and responsibility, always, and admit that these are negotiated. How does responsibility escape from the duality of autonomy/dependency? It allows people to see themselves as responsible to: themselves, near others, and far others.

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The advantage of such a view is that it does not depend for its legitimacy, as does Rousseaus view, on the idea that each and every one has surrendered just as much as he in order for it to be convincing. Violence and Care We now turn to a second deep implication of the feminization of care and cares exclusion from social life. As some social scientists have noted, about eighty to ninety per cent of all violent criminals arrested are men. Assuming that this is not just an accident, how can we account for the greater propensity of men to commit violence? Perhaps we should begin by explaining why, from the standpoint of an ethic of care, anyone should be concerned about violence. There are two reasons. First, violence, at least in many of its manifestations, seems to be the antithesis of care. Inflicting harm on others seems to be at the other end of the spectrum from caring for others. Yet if care is so central to human life, how can it account for the nature of, and existence of, violence? Second, as we know, there is actually a great deal of violence inflicted in intimate settings, in the places where we expect to find care, we often find violence, and often violence and care are intertwined. How, especially if I am right that they are at opposite ends of a spectrum of how humans should treat one another, can violence and care cohabit intimate space? Let me begin by reviewing some claims made about care and violence. An ethic of care has long been associated with non-violence. Sara Ruddicks important early book in the care discussion, Maternal thinking is subtitled Toward a Politics of Peace. There, while Ruddick acknowledges that mothers are often among the most vehement speakers for war, nevertheless she believes that a commitment to

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preservation, growth, and becoming a member of society, the values that she attributes to an ethic of care, if kept in balance, necessarily lead to a politics of peace. In making this claim, Ruddick follows the political practice of an earlier generation of feminists, like Jane Addams, who were staunch pacifists, even in the face of world war one. Addams argument rested upon an assumption that as human societies evolved, people would realize the folly of using war to solve their problems. She also believed that as the world grew smaller, it would become more difficult for nations to pull people apart, generate sufficient hatred for them to make war (Addams 1907). How quaint these ideas seem now! How effectively nations have continued to manipulate and create new forms of fear and hatred. Can an ethic of care prevent such developments? This is a question for another day. Let us turn to intimate violence. In her original book, In a Different Voice, Carol Gilligan described one of the more solid and disturbing gender differences that she found in her work: men were much more likely in viewing the Thematic Apperception Test to create stories that were about intimate situations in which there was violence. Something about intimate settings made them presume violence. In her later work, Gilligan described how boys are less likely to provide a cognitive account of their fears of intimacy because they suffered the trauma of the loss of their Mothers at an age that was, in many ways, pre-cognitive(Gilligan 1996). As a result, they remain fearful and unsettled by intimacy. Another psychoanalytic theorist whose views might provide insight into intimate violence is Jessica Benjamin. Benjamin argues that sadism and masochism, putting

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oneself over and over again into a situation where one either does or suffers harm, is likely a longing to repair broken and inadequate kinds of relationships. The relationship of emotions to violence is also confusing. On the one hand, thinkers such as Robert Jay Lifton think of violence as an effect of dissociation, that is, of the absence of connections rather than a result of connection. On the other hand, many view violence as an outcome of damaged emotions; the Chicago Sun Times quoted a teacher who was coping with the epidemic of murders there as saying kids are killing because they are hurting. How are we to sort through this competing accounts of the relationship of care and violence? On the one hand, we might denounce violent care and point out that it is harmful to those cared-for. On the other hand, we will hear arguments that in some communities and cultures, violence, especially intimate violence, is simply a part of the way that people live, and that we have no capacity to judge their notions of caring which include some uses of corporate punishment. Is there any way to sort through these complications? One way is to return to the demands for democratic caring as a system for setting responsibility. From this perspective, the questions that we need to ask are not only, who is responsible for violence, but also, what effect does responsibility have on peoples ability to fulfill their other responsibilities? From this perspective, and from this question, a different answer becomes clear. One clear effect of defining care in terms of responsibility rather than rights is that it allows us to see violence more as a part of care, or perhaps we might better say, allows us to better see the ways in which care and violence interact. In a recent Canadian study, Paul Kershaw and his colleagues again found that many recipients

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of public assistance had become dependent as they escaped from settings of domestic violence. The welfare problem, then, is in a not-small part a problem of victims of violence. They have lost their agency through being victims of violence. Kershaw et. al. conclude:
We expand the idea of caring more to include not just performing more child rearing or personal care for other dependents, but also the adoption of a more caring disposition which dees masculine norms that continue to sanction violence. (187) (Kershaw et al. 2008)

In a recent account of violence Vittorio Bufacchi argues that the best way to think of violence is as a harm to the integrity of a person (Bufacchi 2007). While there may be limits to Bufacchis way of thinking (for example, he is unwilling to include economic or structural violence), it is nonetheless the case that his notion captures some important elements of the nature of violence. Violence is a means, Arendt argued, but we must realize that its capacity to destroy the capacity of its victims to act is among its great harms. Arendt wishes to argue that violence and power are opposites, but we cannot also forget ways in which violence destroys the power of ones opponents, and thus, makes the victorious violent party able to exert power over others with brutal efficiency. Recall Orwells description in 1984 of the future: a boot, stomping a face, forever. We live in an age of such disproportionately huge forms of violence (from nuclear weapons to the imaginary Martian invasion, zombies, toys that turns into weapons, the dream of Mission Accomplished destruction in Iraq, etc. etc sorry, a little rant--) so it might be difficult for us to remember these more local forms of brutality. What does it mean to live in a culture where violence is an everyday commonplace event for some, and where for others who are wealthy, violence is not much tolerated (except in the privacy of ones own home)? How do these patterns of

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abuse and acceptance affect everyday life? Martha Huggins and her associates interviewed violence workers who committed the police atrocities against political dissidents in Brazil. What she discovered is that they were recruited for the kinds of psychological weaknesses and rigid personalities that they possessed. They discovered: "With violence work fragmented and subdivided such that each policeman's personal contribution to atrocity was masked (misrecognized personally and socially) as something other than what it was, avoiding personal or political responsibility for atrocity was easy." (3) (Huggins et al. 2002) Thus, while Arendt claims that violence is a tool, and perhaps an absence of power, she misses in so doing the relationship of violence with her form of the rule of nobody, bureaucracy. Indeed, the movement for moral repair against acts of horrific violence are also applied to less horrific acts of violence recently in such programs as RSVP: Resolve to Stop the Violence Project which uses several prongs to try to end violence. This program, operated first in association with the Sheriffs Office in San Francisco, aims to address the problems of violence by calling for victim restoration, community restoration, and perpetrator restoration. One surprising point is that the violent men who eventually have to listen to victims speak of the effect of violence on their lives had no idea of these effects of their actions on others. IV. Can Men Care More? By now, it should be clear that men do care, but that they are excused from certain kinds of caring. I have argued today that tough guys dont care because their conceptions of themselves prevent them from seeing their caring activities as care. To do

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otherwise would call into question the separations of public and private life, and to undo the gendered advantages that men derive from such structures. Now let me turn to the question: is change possible, and if so, what kinds of changes are possible? My answer is that, yes, change is possible, because gendered notions of care have happened before. And yes, we know what approaches we need to take to make positive changes in gendered conceptions of care. Let me argue each point in turn. Changing The Gender of Citizenship One argument against the approach that I have taken here in this paper is to suggest that it is impossible to change the gendered nature of citizenship because it is natural, or so otherwise deeply rooted in human society, that men care by protection and production and that womens caring is constrained to the private sphere. There are probably many ways to refute this set of claims, but the best is probably to point to a real change that did occur in gendered attitudes. I refer here to the change in the gender of citizenship that accompanied the shift away from republican and toward more liberal political values at the end of the eighteenth/beginning of the nineteenth century in the Anglo-American world. As Stephen Leonard and I demonstrated, the gender script of republican arguments in the eighteenth century expected men to be more committed to public duties than to private wealth. Within liberal societies, though, wealth came to stand in for the achievements of the virtuous citizen. By the late twentieth century, though with work so precarious, what Susan Faludi called ornamental masculinity had replaced previous understandings of masculinity.

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Driven by aspirations to demonstrate their merit, yet living in a society where status norms often generate behavior that is at best vain and empty, and at worst socially destructive, Faludi draws attention to the stark evidence of how men in such contexts come to define themselves by being (as Adam Ferguson said) rapacious, deceitful, and violent, ready to trespass on the rights of others, or servile, mercenary, and base, prepared to relinquish their own. The final irony, however, is that ornamental masculinity, in all of its selfish, self-centered, vain, posturing, profligate glory, has turned men into gendered creatures virtually indistinct from the kind of women whose femininity has hurt men the most, namely, the artificial femininity manufactured and marketed by commercial interests (1999, 38). (Leonard and Tronto 2007) Changing understandings of masculinity make clear that genders are not fixed, that the role of violence in society need not be fixed. Who can act, though, to change these deeply embedded patterns of life? Reconceiving Care: Care receivers all! Almost all discussions of care start from the perspective of the care giver, not the care receiver. It is perhaps a necessary intellectual trend in a society in which the lives of autonomous actors are taken as the norm for human action that care will be discounted as an aspect of human life. Michel Foucaults important late work on care for the self was an important break in the understanding of care as simply an act of passivity. Foucaults earlier work emphasized the ways in which social practices and capillary-like modes of power literally constitute individuals (indeed, the very notion of an individual or subject). In writing about the care of the self as an ethical category, Foucault sought to

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challenge the view that being cared for is necessarily a kind of passive activity (Foucault 1997).i The capacity to see oneself as vulnerable is not highly valued in our culture. Until we recognize that we are care receivers, all there can be no change in the ways that we think about care and no basic change in how care is undervalued. Two effects follow once all actors are willing to view themselves as recipients of care. First, care, the self as a receiver and not only an actor, becomes normalized. This change may seem small, but it undermines completely the presumption that people are only rational actors able to compete in a marketplace, and forces us to recognize the limits of market life as the metaphor for all human actions. Second, care recipients cease to be viewed as others Once people can begin to make judgments about these others as if they were themselves, a different social psychological process of more genuine empathy will be necessary. That people can exercise such empathy is well established, though its scope is limited. Changing our understanding of care allows the scope of empathy to be expanded. Ignoring the ways in which we are interdependent upon others for care allows us to continue to follow ideologies of competitive caring and unsympathetic disregard for others. Recognizing our own vulnerability undercuts these processes. B. Care versus Service But surely my argument must be wrong. If it is correct that everyone needs care so completely, then how is it possible that this fact is suppressed?ii How can such knowledge be missing? The answer to this question is simple: not all care is seen as care. Here, the important distinction is the one between care and service.

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Kari Waerness, actually identified three forms of care: spontaneous care, necessary care, and personal service. Spontaneous care is a kind of good Samaritan act in which no ongoing relationship of care is established. Necessary care is care that the recipient could not provide for him or herself. As an example, doctors provide necessary care to patients. Not all necessary care is highly skilled; young children cannot change their diapers but the skill required is not very exalted. Personal service, Waerness third category, is the care that one could provide to oneself but someone else provides it instead. One could wash ones own car but one takes it to the carwash; one could do ones own manicure but prefers to go to the nail parlor. Waernesss example is husbands who expect their wives to clean up the house receive personal service (Waerness 1990). I shall use Waernesss distinction slightly more broadly than she does, but the basic difference between care and service remains the same. Notice that the difference between care and service is not the act performed, nor the intimacy of the relationship of the work, nor the nature of the relationship established by the care work. What is different is that in service, the more powerful, or active, actors command the care work which is provided by care workers, in care, the more powerful, active, actors provide the care work for recipients. The care workers in both cases might have expertise, or they might be performing care work that is more routine and do-able by everyone. The difference is in who appears to be in command. Thus, service is a way to receive care without surrendering ones sense of command or autonomy. If one thinks of the child care worker as providing a useful service, rather than as primarily providing necessary care, then it is easier to persist in paying the child care worker low wages. The language of service preserves the illusion

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of independence and obscures dependence. It permits those who are relatively autonomous and able to act with discretion about how to fulfill their caring needs to rationalize the way in which they depend upon others. It permits the myth of market choice to replace the reality of deep interdependency. And it obscures the social and political dimension of our collective need for care. Further, it allows people to continue to avoid recognizing their responsibility for such collective care through a kind of privileged irresponsibility. Thinking of the care that people receive as service obscures the reality of the ways in which people are all dependent upon others for their care. Every able-bodied, independent, adult who goes off to work each day still requires care. It is surely the case that more of this care is now obtained through market mechanisms than it used to be; which makes it appear to be service purchased on the market rather than to be care. The presumption that only the vulnerable need care, however, belies our common human fate of depending upon others. One reason to use the language of care broadly is to create the possibility for seeing this point. While there are useful results to gain from distinguishing, e.g., paid from unpaid care work, care from service, labor of love from labor, nonetheless there are also huge political and social advantages to gain from changing these conventional divisions. C. Care as a Public Value If we take the necessity of care seriously, then the importance of what we care about (Frankfurt 1988) is not merely an individual matter. We can also use this account to think about what our collective values and concerns are as well.

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When we think about it, it is not so absurd to say that care is a public value. Some functions that are quintessentially roles assigned to the state can be described as caring, education, welfare, and in the language of the eighteenth century, police. Even Aristotle, who distinguished between the public and private spheres and placed economic life and personal care within the private sphere , used parallel language to describe how mothers raised their children and how the good state should educate its citizens (Schwarzenbach 1996). In social welfare states where citizens have a greater sense of solidarity, care is easily comprehended as a public value (Sevenhuijsen 1998; Waerness 1990). Given more individualistic assumptions in the United States, care is understood almost entirely as a private matter. Nevertheless, there are grounds on which even individualistic Americans do conceive of collective needs. The existing assumptions that block such an understanding are not too difficult to identify. Let me first describe some aspects of these assumptions, and then end by proposing an alternative conception that opens the possibilities for making care a part of furthering a democratic, egalitarian agenda instead of opposing it. In the first place, the assumption that people are primarily consumers affects the logic of seeing individuals in relationship with each other. The logic of consumption is relentlessly individualistic; Juliet Schor reports how marketing and advertisers have always sought to peel off more and more members of families from traditional loyalties to create loyalties to their own products and brands: from women as targets in the 1920s until the present when the targets are children (who, researchers now reveal, can identify brands at the age of 2 and influence parents buying between 2-3 years of age). Further,

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though marketing produces consumers sense of loyalty, the discursive presumptions about consuming is that it is all a matter of individual choice. If one respects such individuality, then it is difficult to ask people to see fellow citizens as anything but consumers making their own choices. In the second place, in addition to consumerist similarity, the logics of difference (African Americans, Latinos, immigrants, Jews, etc) point toward a reason for Americans not to embrace a public value of care. Public care, after all, has to be shared with these others, who have often been seen as incapable of taking advantage of it. Although some dimensions of public care have probably benefited rhetorically from a demand to make many into one (e.g., the need for assimilation produced support for public education), in general the process of othering has historically been harmful to those excluded. One of the consequences of failing to face up to this past is that it makes Americans more likely to dwell upon their fear of being misunderstood, forgotten, or excluded. If one believes in reciprocity, then it makes sense that when those who have been treated badly have an opportunity to do so, they will reciprocate by treating their former tormentors in the same way As long ago as Thomas Jeffersons Reflections, a part of the American psyche has presumed that if God were just, then white Americans will someday pay for these often unacknowledged acts. On the other hand, though, there is also empirical evidence to suggest that, at times, Americans ignore both their instincts to make people rely upon themselves and their dislike for the particular lives of others. Steve Kelman argues, for example, that despite the culture of individual self interest, there is a lot of evidence to suggest that people do behave in a way that reflects a public spirit (Kelman 1988). Furthermore, he

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notes, the more people observe altruistic behavior, the more likely they are to behave altruistically (52-3). The question becomes, then, under what conditions is it possible to turn the vicious circles that flow when care is treated as an individual matter into a virtuous circles, and thus to avoid what Nancy Folbre calls (contra the prisoners dilemma), the nice persons dilemma (Folbre 2001)? The goal is to start from these three presumptions: everyone is entitled to receive adequate care throughout their lives. Everyone is entitled to participate in relationships of care that give meaning to their lives. Everyone is entitled to participate in the public process by which judgments about how society should ensure these first two premises. The first point sounds as if it is classically an entitlement of a social right, as T. H. Marshall asserted. T. H. Marshall himself described the model of seeing citizens as holders of social rights, (i.e., as people who make claims on the state by asserting a right to social welfare benefits) as ultimately disempowering: As for social rights--the rights to welfare in the broadest sense of the term--they are not designed for the exercise of power at all. They reflect, as I pointed out many years ago, the strong individualist element in mass society, but it refers to individuals as consumers, not as actors. There is little that consumers can do except imitate Oliver Twist and "ask for more, and the influence politicians can exert over the public by promising to give it is generally greater than the influence of citizens--or those who care about these things--can exercise over politicians by demanding it. (Marshall 1981): 141 For these reasons, it is not enough to assert any entitlement to care as if it were a good to be distributed. The second and third points are also critical.

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The second point is critical because peoples views of good care do vary by race, class, ethnicity, religion, region, ideology, and even personality. Thus, the notion that one model of care will work for everyone is absurd. Platitudes such that every frail elder person should be confined to a nursing home, or that every family should take care of its own violate the ways in which humans vary in their abilities to give and receive care. Just as no one should be forced to receive care of a type that they find demeaning, neither in a good society would we insist that family members, for example, must provide care; Janet Finch calls this a right not to care (Finch 1996). The third point is critical because simply to say that people will think of others when they are acting in altruistic ways (Kelmans language) is not to say that they will genuinely reflect upon the needs of others as opposed to imposing their own sense of the needs of others onto care provision. We have earlier seen how the practice of presuming that everyones needs and desires are like ones own causes people to act in ways that currently perpetuate vicious circles of care. Such a posture can only be turned around through reflection upon peoples real accounts of their needs. Democratic processes are required to assure that the voices of all people, not just the powerful, middle class, and so forth, are heard. This requirement for democratic process may seem unrealistic given how unrepresentative most political institutions in the United States are. But most care is local: one does not need to think about democratic care as operating only on the highest polticial levels. Julie White has demonstrated that in specific care settings, those that are organized more democratically succeed more thoroughly (White 2000). These are not easy tasks. Little in our current political order seems hospitable to such issues as setting caring responsibilities between men and women, between the wellto-do and the less-well-off, or revising equality so that it captures not some formal account of equality but an equal vulnerability to needing care over a lifetime.

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Nevertheless, if we are to engage in meaningful practices of responsibility, these are the political tasks that face us. References Addams, Jane. 1907. Newer Ideals of Peace. New York: MacMillan. Berger, Maurice, Brian Wallis, and Simon Watson, eds. 1995. Constructing masculinity. New York: Routledge. Bittman, Michael, Paula England, Nancy Folbre, Liana Sayer, and George Matheson. 2003. "When Does Gender Trump Money? Bargaining and Time in Household Work." American Journal of Sociology 109:186-214. Bologh, Roslyn Wallach. 1990. Love or greatness : Max Weber and masculine thinking-a feminist inquiry. London ; Boston: Unwin Hyman. Botting, Eileen Hunt. 2006. Family Feuds: Wollstonecraft, Burke and Rousseau and the Transformation of the Family. Albany: SUNY Press. Bridges, Amy. 1979. "The Other Side of the Paycheck." In Capitalist Patriarchy and the Case for Socialist Feminism, ed. Z. Eisenstein. New York: Monthly Review Press. Bruce, Bratley, and Rob Krueger. 1996. "Review of Feminism and the Mastery of Nature." Economic Geography 72 (2):476-8. Bufacchi, Vittorio. 2007. Violence and Social Justice. Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan. Carter, Patricia A. 2002. "Everybody's Paid But the Teacher:" The Teaching Profession and the Women's Movement. New York: Teachers College Press. Charvet, John. 1974. The Social Problem in the Philosophy of Rousseau. New York: Cambridge University Press. Cheal, David J. 2003. "Children's Home Responsibilities: Factors Predicting Children's Household Work " Social Behavior & Personality: An International Journal 31:789-94. Code, Lorraine. 2002. "Narratives of Responsibility and Agency: Reading Margaret Walker's Moral Understandings." Hypatia 17 (1):156-73. Damrosch, Leopold. 2005. Jean-Jacques Rousseau: Restless Genius. New York: Houghton Mifflin. Deckard, Barbara Sinclair. 1983. The Women's Movement: Political, Socioeconomic, and Psychological Issues. 3rd ed. New York: Harper & Row. Enloe, Cynthia. 2002. "Demilitarization--Or More of the Same? Feminist Questions to Ask in the Postwar Moment." In The Postwar Moment: Militaries, Masculinities and International Peacekeeping Bosnia and the Netherlands, ed. C. Cockburn and D. Zarkov. London: Lawrence & Wishart. . 2004a. ""Gender' is not enough: the need for a feminist consciousness." International Affairs 80 (1):95-8. . 2004b. The Curious Feminist: Searching for Women in a New Age of Empire. Berkeley: University of California Press. Faludi, Susan. 2000. Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Man. New York: Harper.

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