Against Ahistorical Liberalism: The Importance of Acknowledging Past Injustices

Abstract

Liberal political philosophy has traditionally maintained that history is irrelevant to justice, focusing instead on the present and the future. This perspective renders liberalism largely indifferent to historical injustices, as it prioritizes abstract principles of fairness over considerations of past wrongs. However, contemporary liberal thinkers have increasingly challenged this ahistorical stance, advocating for an approach that acknowledges historical injustices and their enduring effects. This article examines this theoretical debate, emphasizing the importance of remembrance in political philosophy.

1. Introduction

The role of history in liberal theories of justice remains a pressing concern in contemporary political philosophy. While liberalism has traditionally prioritized principles of fairness and impartiality, it has often bracketed the significance of historical context—particularly the moral weight of past injustices. Recent scholarship, however, has challenged this ahistorical orientation, arguing that justice cannot be fully realized without addressing the enduring legacies of structural harm. This article enters this debate by investigating how liberal political theory might meaningfully engage with the ethical demands posed by historical injustice, without collapsing the distinction between ethics and politics. The central aim is to bridge two bodies of literature that have largely developed in isolation: the political and cultural analysis of memory, especially as it pertains to historical responsibility, and the ethical discourse on enduring injustice, exemplified by the work of Jeff Spinner-Halev. While memory studies emphasizes the collective labor of remembrance and the politics of commemoration, the literature on enduring injustice is concerned with the moral implications of long-standing harms that persist across generations. Despite their shared concern with the past’s relevance to the present, these studies often diverge in temporal focus, normative commitments, and disciplinary orientation. This article proposes a new interpretive framework that foregrounds the relationship between inherited memory practices and contemporary moral agency. In doing so, it challenges the tendency to treat past wrongs and present inequalities as ethically discrete, arguing instead for an integrated perspective that views them as co-constitutive. By advancing a conception of ethical responsiveness shaped by intergenerational narratives and persistent structural conditions, this article moves beyond the confines of reparative justice and episodic commemoration, advocating instead for a sustained engagement with historical responsibility.

The concept of “historical responsibility”, as employed in this article, is not intended to invoke a comprehensive moral doctrine, but rather to underscore the importance of attending to the temporal dimensions of structural injustice within a theory of justice. In this respect, the argument suggests that such a concept can be made compatible with Rawlsian principles, provided that reasoners in the original position are permitted access to relevant empirical facts—including the persistence and compounding of particular forms of disadvantage over time. The claim is not that Rawlsian approaches must necessarily endorse a program of moral repair, but that any plausible application of Rawlsian reasoning must be historically literate.

Importantly, the term “historical responsibility” can ambiguously refer to two distinct, though related, dimensions: first, intergenerational justice, which concerns obligations to past and future persons; second, the historical character of justice claims in the present, particularly the ways in which injustices endure, evolve, and accumulate over time. This article engages primarily with the second dimension, focusing on how contemporary injustices are shaped by their historical trajectories, rather than addressing intergenerational justice in the abstract. Clarifying this distinction not only sharpens this article’s conceptual scope but also reinforces its central claim: that temporality matters for liberal justice not only in assigning duties across generations, but in recognizing the historically extended nature of present-day injustices and the implications this has for political and moral judgment.

Moreover, this project does not seek to reduce politics to applied ethics. Rather, it asks how ethical considerations—particularly those rooted in the recognition of historical injustice—might inform political judgment in a manner compatible with the demands of legitimacy and public reason in pluralist societies. While remaining attentive to Rawlsian concerns about deriving political principles from comprehensive moral doctrines, the analysis explores whether certain normative claims regarding remediation for historically compounding injustice can be justified within a shared political framework. In this way, this article maintains the distinction between ethics and politics while demonstrating that, under specific conditions, ethical concerns may attain genuine political salience. By mediating between moral philosophy and memory politics, it offers a conceptual contribution to the ongoing effort to think justice historically.

The first section outlines the liberal perspective, beginning with John Rawls’ [1] theory of justice as fairness. Rawls’ influential framework, as articulated in Political Liberalism, seeks to establish principles of justice that are independent of historical contingencies. This ahistorical orientation is extended in the “supersession of history” thesis, developed by David Lyons [2], George Sher [3], and Jeremy Waldron [4]. According to this thesis, past injustices can be morally superseded over time as new, just institutions emerge, rendering historical grievances irrelevant to contemporary justice. The first part of this article critically examines the rationale behind this position, addressing the following fundamental question: why does liberal justice disregard history? The discussion highlights how this perspective seeks to maintain stability and impartiality but often at the cost of overlooking enduring historical harms.

The second part engages with contemporary liberal critiques of this ahistorical stance, focusing on the necessity of recognizing past injustices and the consequences of failing to do so. Janna Thompson [5] challenges the supersession thesis by arguing for intergenerational justice, asserting that moral obligations persist across generations. Similarly, Jeff Spinner-Halev [6] introduces the concepts of “enduring injustice” and “enduring harm” to highlight the persistent effects of historical wrongs on marginalized communities. Charles Taylor’s [7] recognition theory further reinforces this critique, positioning recognition as a fundamental liberal demand. The part also explores David Miller’s [8,9] perspective on national responsibility, arguing that nations bear collective obligations to address historical injustices. By engaging with these critiques, this article underscores the growing recognition within liberal thought that justice must account for historical wrongs rather than merely focusing on present and future fairness.

The final part broadens the scope of this debate by situating it within the field of memory studies, emphasizing why historical remembrance remains essential in contemporary political discourse. Drawing on Thomas McCarthy’s [6,7] reflections on the United States’ failure to confront its history of slavery, this section explores how historical amnesia can undermine democratic legitimacy and social cohesion. Additionally, Andrew Dobson’s [10] argument about the role of listening in democratic discourse highlights the importance of acknowledging historical injustices as part of a meaningful and inclusive democratic process. The discussion in this conclusion connects philosophical debates on justice with the sociopolitical implications of collective memory, demonstrating how the remembrance of past injustices contributes to ethical and political responsibility in the present.

By integrating perspectives from political philosophy and memory studies, this article aims to provide a comprehensive analysis of the relationship between justice and history. It argues that the liberal tradition must move beyond its ahistorical foundations to fully address the moral and political demands of historical injustice. This inquiry not only advances theoretical debates within liberal justice but also speaks to pressing contemporary issues regarding historical responsibility and reconciliation.

2. The Methodology

The methodology of this article follows a comparative and analytical approach, systematically examining different strands of liberal thought regarding historical justice. It begins with an exposition of the orthodox liberal position to establish the foundation of a liberal framework that often disregards historical injustices. This is contrasted with contemporary liberal critiques that highlight the necessity of historical recognition. This article employs a critical engagement method, juxtaposing these theories to illuminate the conceptual tensions between liberalism’s ahistorical tendencies and the ethical imperatives of memory and recognition. Further, by examining theoretical contributions on intergenerational and national responsibility, the analysis delineates competing normative claims within liberal justice. The final section applies these theoretical insights to concrete historical cases, demonstrating how these debates bear real-world implications. This method of structured comparison and critical synthesis allows for a nuanced understanding of why historical injustices remain a crucial issue in contemporary liberal thought.

3. Liberal Justice and Its Discontents: Confronting the Limits of Ahistorical Approaches

To grasp the reasons behind liberalism’s disconnection from historical context, it is crucial to analyze John Rawls’ perspectives on political liberalism. According to Rawls [1] (pp. xxv–xlvi), significant societal rifts emerge from differing religious, philosophical, and ethical beliefs. He contends that political liberalism ought to prioritize “political justice” instead of pursuing a singular moral ideal. In his framework, justice is based on the concept of “justice as fairness”, which mandates that every citizen, irrespective of their social status, possesses the essential resources to fully exercise their freedoms.

Rawls maintains that this ideal is best realized through public culture, which he describes as “a shared set of fundamental ideas and principles” [1] (pp. 8–14). This culture develops across generations in a society of free and equal citizens governed by a political conception of justice. He insists that fair social cooperation must be structured to prevent any individual from gaining an unfair bargaining advantage. To neutralize distortions caused by historical inequalities, Rawls introduces the “veil of ignorance”, a conceptual tool that requires individuals to disregard historical contexts when formulating principles of justice [1] (p. 23). By eliminating historical burdens, this device aims to establish a just society composed of free and equal citizens.

This mechanism lays the groundwork for a “well-ordered society”, where all members accept the same principles of justice and comply with just institutions [1] (p. 35). Such a consensus is maintained through an “overlapping consensus”, which is affirmed on moral rather than purely pragmatic grounds [1] (p. 147). To ensure stability, Rawls avoids engaging with divisive religious and philosophical disputes, instead seeking common principles that transcend ideological differences [1] (p. 152). As a result, his theory systematically excludes historical injustices, prioritizing institutional stability over rectification of past wrongs.

Ultimately, Rawls’ framework of political liberalism strives to foster a fair and enduring society by consciously ignoring historical wrongs. His reliance on the “veil of ignorance” and the pursuit of an overlapping consensus reflects a commitment to neutrality and institutional cohesion, yet this very commitment also reveals the limitations of liberalism’s engagement with historical context. By privileging abstract principles over concrete historical realities, Rawls’ framework constructs an ideal of justice that often overlooks the enduring impact of past inequalities. Consequently, liberalism, as shaped by Rawls, becomes disconnected from the historical conditions it seeks to regulate, favoring stability and consensus at the cost of confronting the legacies of injustice.

Similarly, Jeremy Waldron [4] upholds an ahistorical liberal perspective, particularly regarding reparations. While acknowledging the symbolic significance of historical memory for individuals and communities, he argues that justice must remain forward-looking. Waldron contends that although historical injustices may be recognized symbolically, financial reparations are unwarranted since past harms cannot be undone. He emphasizes [4] (p. 7) that justice should focus on improving the conditions of living individuals and future generations rather than redressing past grievances.

Waldron [4] (p. 12) critiques a speculative perspective on compensating for past injustices that attempts to approximate justice by compensating the descendants of victims. He raises three key objections. First, he argues that such a model would lead to endless disputes between descendants of perpetrators and victims. Second, he questions the feasibility of maintaining stable counterfactual conditions, given that historical injustices have unpredictably influenced birth patterns and lineage. Third, he contends that individuals often make voluntary choices that lead to disadvantageous outcomes, and reparation efforts could inadvertently shield them from the consequences of such decisions.

From a liberal standpoint, Waldron [4] (p. 13) also challenges the redistributive nature of reparations. He argues that reconstructing historical entitlements selectively imposes rational choice assumptions on some groups but not others. Moreover, he asserts that property rights adapt to social changes, meaning that past entitlements may lose relevance over time. Based on these arguments, he concludes that claims to land, wealth, and resources cannot be justified on pragmatic, legal, or philosophical grounds [4] (p. 16).

Waldron’s argument aligns with David Lyons’ [2] claim that property rights are shaped by social transformations. Expanding on this, Sher [3] contends that historical injustices from centuries ago cannot justify modern redistributive measures, as factors like population growth and industrialization have significantly altered ownership claims. Consequently, past violations of property rights do not automatically warrant present-day compensation [3] (p. 9).

Waldron [4] (p. 23) advances the “supersession thesis”, which suggests that changing circumstances can render past injustices irrelevant. He argues that an action deemed unjust in one historical context may no longer be unjust in another. As such, historical injustices are superseded when their rectification becomes practically unfeasible or no longer relevant to contemporary justice [4] (p. 27). While he acknowledges the symbolic importance of remembering historical wrongs, he denies that individuals or societies bear a continuous obligation to rectify past injustices.

In sum, Rawls and Waldron exemplify a liberal justice framework that prioritizes present and future considerations over historical grievances. Their theories, by adopting an ahistorical perspective, downplay the role of historical injustices in shaping contemporary political and legal responsibilities. However, as following sections will demonstrate, this approach has significant limitations, particularly in addressing the lingering effects of historical wrongs and the moral necessity of remembrance.

Liberal theories of justice, particularly those grounded in principles of neutrality and universalism, have been influential in shaping normative frameworks for evaluating political institutions. However, their tendency to abstract from historical and social particularities has drawn significant critique. A key challenge lies in the failure of such approaches to adequately address the enduring effects of historical injustices, particularly the harm caused by the persistent non-recognition of marginalized groups. The absence of recognition is not merely symbolic; it undermines individuals’ social standing, distorts their self-understanding, and perpetuates structural inequality. By prioritizing formal equality and institutional stability over the acknowledgment of historically situated identities and experiences, ahistorical liberalism risks reproducing the very forms of exclusion it seeks to redress.

A fundamental tension for liberal theories of justice is how to respond to historical injustice without compromising foundational commitments to individual moral agency, legal equality, and forward-looking political reasoning. Jeremy Waldron’s influential critique—especially in “Superseding Historical Injustice”—articulates this tension by arguing that redress for past wrongs often relies on illiberal premises, such as collective guilt or transgenerational moral liability, which threaten the normative coherence of liberalism.

While this article does not reject liberal foundations, it explores whether egalitarian strands of liberal thought can be extended to address the enduring effects of historical injustice. Drawing on Jeff Spinner-Halev’s work, the argument shifts focus from retrospective blame to prospective responsibility. It contends that when unjust institutional arrangements persist—shaped by histories of exclusion and exploitation—liberalism’s own commitments to fairness and equal moral standing demand a response.

Specifically, this article argues that injustice cannot be deemed superseded when the legacies of past wrongs remain embedded in present-day structures, distributions, and narratives. In such cases, redress is not only compatible with liberal principles but required by them. However, this position does not imply unlimited or indiscriminate obligations. In response to Waldron’s concerns about the arbitrariness of redress claims, this article proposes three criteria for a principled liberal approach: (1) a clear structural continuity between past injustices and present harms; (2) a failure of current institutions to redress these harms; and (3) the potential for reforms that promote moral equality without reinforcing divisive essentialisms.

Liberalism’s enduring strength has been its emphasis on universal rights and legal equality, transcending sectarian, tribal, and national divisions by affirming the equal moral worth of all individuals. This article does not reject these foundational commitments, nor does it endorse a return to collective essentialism or moral tribalism. Instead, it interrogates whether liberalism can accommodate the enduring significance of group membership as a site of structural disadvantage and as a context in which injustice is experienced and reproduced.

If liberal equality is to be meaningful, it must engage with the social and historical conditions that enable or constrain individuals’ ability to exercise their rights. Drawing on Charles Taylor’s insights, this article argues that liberal justice can, under specific normative conditions, acknowledge group-based harms without compromising its core individualist commitments. The aim is not to valorize groups per se, but to recognize when historically entrenched group-differentiated injustices—such as racial subordination, colonial dispossession, or cultural erasure—undermine the equal standing of individuals as citizens. This account of historical responsibility avoids moralizing the past or universalizing claims of suffering. Instead, it urges liberal societies to recognize when inherited injustices continue to shape the present and to address them in ways that reinforce—rather than contradict—their own ethical commitments.

A comprehensive view of justice requires moving past abstract proceduralism to actively consider the historical contexts and identity-related exclusions that persistently affect patterns of inequality and marginalization. The contemporary critique of the ahistorical liberal understanding of justice bridges specifically this gap. Jeff Spinner-Halev [6] (p. 574) argues that some present injustices have deep historical roots, referring to them as “enduring injustices”. Liberalism, he contends, fails to adequately address these issues because it primarily focuses on individual rights and modest redistribution of resources. However, enduring injustice encompasses a broader spectrum of issues, including exile, mistrust, the loss of sacred land, and the acknowledgment of past wrongs [6] (p. 576). Given these shortcomings, he asserts that historical context is essential to addressing and rectifying enduring injustices, something that ahistorical liberal justice fails to achieve.

Spinner-Halev [6] (p. 576) further strengthens his critique by introducing the concept of “enduring harm”. He explains that some groups seek acknowledgment of past atrocities not simply to improve their material conditions, but because the denial of these historical events constitutes an ongoing affront. The demand for acknowledgment and memorialization of past injustices is often raised by descendants of victimized groups. This need is deeply connected to group dignity, illustrating the significant relationship between collective identity and historical memory. However, liberal justice, with its emphasis on universal principles, does not traditionally engage with group-specific demands for recognition.

Because liberalism conceptualizes human dignity in universalist and egalitarian terms, it does not perceive the failure to recognize cultural or historical differences as a loss of freedom or an infliction of harm. Charles Taylor [7] critiques liberalism for its insensitivity to differences and its neglect of demands for recognition. He argues that misrecognition inflicts harm on individuals and communities, and the need for recognition is, in fact, a liberal demand, as it is rooted in a fundamental human need. Taylor argues that recognition should go beyond the mere acknowledgment of equal rights and should incorporate respect for the unique identities of individuals and groups. He asserts that while the politics of equal dignity aims to provide identical rights and freedoms to all, the politics of difference calls for recognizing the distinctiveness of particular groups. He notes that historical injustices are often ignored or assimilated into dominant narratives, which undermines the ideal of authenticity. He states the following:

“Everyone should be recognized for his or her unique identity. But recognition here means something else. With the politics of equal dignity, what is established is meant to be universally the same, an identical basket of rights and immunities; with the politics of difference, what we are asked to recognize is the unique identity of this individual or group, their distinctness from everyone else. The idea is that it is precisely this distinctness that has been ignored, glossed over, assimilated to a dominant or majority identity. And this assimilation is the cardinal sin against the ideal of authenticity”.

[7] (p. 38)

Taylor’s critique underscores a major flaw in liberalism’s approach: its inability to address the lived realities of historically marginalized groups. By prioritizing a uniform conception of justice, liberalism overlooks the importance of historical injustices and the persistent need for recognition and redress. The following discussion will further explore these tensions and their implications for contemporary political thought.

The debate surrounding historical injustices and the responsibility of present generations to acknowledge and address them is a central issue in contemporary political philosophy. Two significant contributors to this discussion are Janna Thompson [5] and David Miller [8], who critique the liberal perspective that dismisses history as a source of moral and political obligation. Thompson [5] focuses on the ethics of memory and the intergenerational responsibilities of citizens, arguing against the selective remembrance that characterizes liberal ahistoricism. Miller [8], on the other hand, examines national responsibility and collective obligations, challenging the liberal emphasis on individual accountability. Their contributions provide a strong counterpoint to the liberal tendency to detach political institutions and individual rights from historical context, emphasizing that justice cannot be fully realized without considering the past. This article explores how both thinkers engage with and challenge ahistorical liberalism, advocating for a moral and political framework that incorporates historical continuity and collective responsibility.

Janna Thompson [5] strongly criticizes what she terms “liberal ahistoricism”, a perspective that disregards historical events as a source of present obligations. She underscores the importance of shared memories in shaping communal identity, emphasizing that collective remembrance is crucial for fostering a sense of responsibility within a community [5] (p. 195). Thompson defines the ethics of memory as a framework that dictates what individuals or groups should remember or forget, as well as the actions required to facilitate this process. She argues that historical memory influences the identity of individuals within a society, as these collective recollections transcend generations, reinforcing communal bonds and inspiring collective action. She criticizes contemporary political actors for their selective memory, arguing that they often choose to forget past injustices in favor of a forward-looking approach that prioritizes the present and future [5] (pp. 196–197). This selective remembrance, she contends, is irrational and deeply rooted in Enlightenment ideals, which prioritize individual rights and duties over historical obligations. Liberal institutions and agents, she argues, limit their responsibility to contemporary policies and decisions, avoiding accountability for historical injustices beyond their direct influence.

Thompson critiques the “superseding history” thesis, which holds that past injustices should not influence present claims. Lyons suggests that indigenous land claims, for instance, should be evaluated based on liberal principles of fair distribution rather than historical grievances [5] (pp. 200–201). However, Thompson counters that such claims are not solely about economic needs but also involve cultural and historical significance, as land is tied to ancestral heritage, traditions, and sacred sites. Waldron, in a similar vein, downplays historical obligations, proposing that compensation should be framed as a response to present needs rather than as an acknowledgment of historical injustices [5] (p. 202). Thompson criticizes this position, arguing that such an approach neglects the moral significance of historical wrongs and the entitlements they generate, a critique that resonates with Lyons’ perspective on the matter. Descendants of historically oppressed groups experience contemporary disadvantages that are rooted in past injustices. Therefore, any meaningful form of redress must address history as more than just a causal factor—it must recognize its intrinsic role in shaping identity and lived experiences.

David Miller [8] critiques liberal individualism from a different perspective, focusing on national responsibility. He challenges the notion that only individuals can be held accountable for moral and political transgressions, arguing instead that nations, as collective entities, can bear responsibility [8] (pp. 242–243). He defines a nation as a community characterized by a shared identity, public culture, and mutual obligations, which aspires to political self-determination. Nations, he asserts, act through states, and while states have traditionally been held responsible for political decisions, the individuals comprising those nations cannot be entirely exempt from collective accountability.

Miller presents two models for understanding national responsibility: the like-minded group model and the cooperative practice model [8] (p. 249). The former suggests that when a community shares cultural values, its members collectively bear responsibility for actions that align with those values, even if they personally oppose specific actions [8] (p. 252). He contends that participation in a national community inherently entails a degree of complicity in collective decisions, making each member partially responsible for the consequences [8] (pp. 250–251). However, he acknowledges the difficulty of distributing remedial responsibility fairly among all members of a nation.

In the cooperative practice model, responsibility does not require shared cultural values; rather, it arises from participation in a system of mutual benefit. Nations provide public goods and security to their members, and in return, members contribute to maintaining the national structure [8] (p. 263). Miller argues that national responsibility applies even in non-democratic states, though he recognizes that individuals in autocracies may lack sufficient agency to resist unjust policies [8] (p. 260). He proposes that individuals can escape collective responsibility only if they take reasonable steps to prevent harmful outcomes, though he concedes that personal risk may sometimes justify inaction [8] (p. 255).

To sum up, David Miller [8] offers a nuanced account of national responsibility that extends beyond the liberal individualist framework by emphasizing the moral agency of nations as collective entities. Through his dual models—the like-minded group and the cooperative practice—he illustrates how individuals can be implicated in the actions of their national communities, even when they lack direct control over those actions. His analysis foregrounds the ethical complexity of belonging to a nation, highlighting the tension between individual agency and collective identity. While acknowledging the challenges in assigning remedial responsibility, particularly in non-democratic contexts, Miller ultimately insists that membership in a national community entails moral obligations that cannot be wholly evaded.

David Miller’s work on collective and historical responsibility warrants a brief acknowledgment, particularly in light of his evolving position. While his 2004 article acknowledges the link between historical responsibility and collective responsibility, it intentionally limits its exploration of inherited obligations. In contrast, Miller [9] provides a more developed account, addressing the temporal extension of collective identity and the conditions under which responsibility for past injustices may be attributed to present-day members of a nation. This article integrates Miller’s earlier conceptual framework with the normative arguments presented in his later work, offering a more concise representation of his contribution to the debate, particularly in the context of historical injustice and national responsibility.

Both Thompson and Miller challenge the liberal approach that severs history from justice, emphasizing the enduring impact of historical injustices on contemporary political and moral obligations. Thompson critiques liberal ahistoricism by advocating for intergenerational responsibility, arguing that citizens inherit not only institutions but also the duty to rectify past wrongs. Miller, while focusing on national responsibility, similarly asserts that individuals within a nation cannot escape accountability for collective actions, even if they personally opposed them. By highlighting the significance of historical continuity in shaping identity, responsibility, and justice, their arguments underscore the need for a political philosophy that acknowledges the past as an integral component of ethical and political discourse.

In conclusion, the critiques advanced by Janna Thompson [5] and David Miller [8,9] reveal the profound limitations of ahistorical liberalism in addressing the moral and political demands of justice. While liberal theorists like John Rawls [1] and Jeremy Waldron [4] advocate for frameworks grounded in neutrality, procedural fairness, and forward-looking principles, they neglect the ways in which historical injustices continue to shape contemporary inequalities and collective identities. Thompson’s [5] ethics of memory and intergenerational responsibility, alongside Miller’s [8,9] account of national and collective accountability, offer compelling alternatives that foreground the ethical significance of historical continuity. Their work challenges liberalism’s abstraction from context and calls for a reconceptualization of justice—one that recognizes the past not as a distant and irrelevant backdrop, but as a constitutive element of present obligations. Taken together, these perspectives lay the foundation for a more historically attuned and morally responsive political theory, capable of confronting enduring injustices and affirming the dignity of historically marginalized communities.

4. Connecting Critiques of Ahistorical Liberal Justice with Memory Studies: On the Ethical and Political Imperative of Collective Remembrance

The discussion seeks to bridge the critique of ahistorical liberal conceptions of justice with the interdisciplinary field of memory studies, emphasizing the ethical and political imperative of collective remembrance. Liberal theories of justice tend to focus predominantly on present-day injustices, often neglecting the enduring impact of historical wrongs. When historical injustices are denied, overlooked, or insufficiently addressed, they risk becoming enduring injustices—persistent harms that continue to affect victims and their descendants across generations [6]. These injustices frequently originate in large-scale atrocities such as war, colonization, and genocide. In many instances, nation-states seek to obscure or downplay their historical misconduct by constructing national narratives that emphasize heroic or unifying events while marginalizing inconvenient or traumatic episodes [11]. This process of selective remembrance is increasingly challenged by the voices of victims and marginalized communities, whose demands for recognition disrupt dominant historical accounts and contribute to the development of more inclusive and democratic memory cultures [12].

The particular claims of ethno-national groups for recognition of the enduring harm caused by historical injustice remain largely unaddressed within liberal justice frameworks as well, which emphasize abstract, universal principles and remain chiefly concerned with rectifying contemporary inequalities [7]. Yet, past injustices often serve as the foundation for ongoing structural discrimination and socioeconomic marginalization. As such, a more historically sensitive approach to justice— a framework that integrates the moral considerations of memory alongside the necessity for collective commemoration— is essential for addressing the full scope of harm experienced by historically oppressed groups.

In recent decades, the question of how societies reckon with historical injustice has become a critical matter within political philosophy and public discourse. In particular, the legacies of slavery, racial segregation, and systemic discrimination have prompted renewed calls for collective accountability, historical redress, and structural reform. Drawing on comparative frameworks of memory and responsibility, Thomas McCarthy [13] has made a significant contribution to this ongoing debate by linking the American struggle with its racial past to Germany’s post-Holocaust process of Vergangenheitsbewältigung—coming to terms with the past. Through an in-depth engagement with the Holocaust, the structural consequences of slavery, and the enduring manifestations of racial inequality, McCarthy challenges prevailing individualist frameworks of responsibility and offers a compelling case for understanding reparative justice as a collective political project. This part of this article examines McCarthy’s arguments concerning historical memory, intergenerational responsibility, and racial justice, situating his critique within broader theoretical debates about reparations, recognition, and the moral obligations of democratic societies. By exploring the relationship between past and present injustices, McCarthy articulates a vision of democratic accountability rooted in inclusive dialog, public education, and structural transformation—one that seeks not only to remember historical wrongs but to repair their ongoing consequences.

Using the Holocaust as a case study, Thomas McCarthy [13] argues that this atrocity was not merely an isolated historical incident but rather the culmination of a deeply ingrained ideology rooted in German racial superiority and the dehumanization of Jews. He contends that the Holocaust should not be dismissed as a temporary aberration in history; instead, it reflects a broader, long-standing mindset with enduring consequences [13] (p. 627). McCarthy draws attention to the position of left-liberal historians who emphasize the concept of intergenerational responsibility for historical injustices. According to this perspective, individuals born after such events—though not personally culpable—nonetheless bear a civic and moral duty to critically engage with the political and cultural legacies that sustain past injustices and to actively work to sever their continuity; failure to undertake this critical engagement, McCarthy warns, risks the recurrence of racially motivated ideologies and actions.

Drawing inspiration from Germany’s post-war Vergangenheitsbewältigung—the process of coming to terms with the past—McCarthy urges the United States to confront its own historical legacy of slavery. He argues that such a reckoning does not necessitate a single, monolithic narrative of American history. Instead, what is required is an inclusive politics of memory—one that fosters a dialogical space in which diverse racial, ethnic, and cultural perspectives can be articulated, acknowledged, and respected. This form of memory politics is essential, McCarthy maintains, for promoting mutual understanding and for amplifying the voices of communities historically subjected to marginalization and structural exclusion [13] (p. 637). By situating historical reflection within a framework of democratic pluralism, McCarthy advocates a transformative approach to addressing systemic inequalities.

A primary impediment to this process in the American context, McCarthy notes, is the persistence of racial resentment, often encapsulated in the concept of “the black image in the white mind” [13] (p. 639). Rather than confronting the historical realities of slavery and racial oppression, which have significantly shaped present-day disparities, much of American public discourse is dominated by what McCarthy describes as “ethical racism.” This mode of thinking reinforces negative cultural and psychological stereotypes, framing Black socioeconomic disadvantage as the result of personal failings—such as a lack of motivation, discipline, or industriousness—rather than the product of historical injustice [13] (p. 638). Furthermore, efforts to redress these inequalities are frequently portrayed as violations of American individualist ideals, leading to accusations that such measures unfairly privilege Black individuals at the expense of white citizens [13] (p. 639). To counter these narratives, McCarthy underscores the need for increased public knowledge and historical awareness. Only through such education, he asserts, can contemporary inequalities be properly understood as the cumulative effect of systemic and institutionalized racial injustices—matters that must be addressed as moral and political concerns [13] (p. 640).

Residential segregation provides a particularly stark example of the enduring effects of historical racial injustice. McCarthy highlights the Black–white wealth gap as a cumulative outcome of generations of systemic discrimination [13] (p. 641). Segregation continues to entrench inequality by limiting access to quality education, employment opportunities, public services, financial institutions, and political representation [13] (pp. 640–641). In response, McCarthy calls for a politics of memory that brings these often-overlooked political and cultural dimensions into public discourse, thus fostering a national reckoning with the legacy of racial injustice and its continuing ramifications [13] (p. 641).

McCarthy further explores these dynamics in his analysis of the emergence of Black ghettos in the 1950s and 1960s. He contends that these urban enclaves—characterized by both physical and social isolation—were a direct consequence of discriminatory federal policies and programs that excluded Black Americans from wealth-building opportunities [14] (pp. 763–764). The result was the creation of what he terms an “urban black underclass”, marked by poverty, educational inequality, limited employment, inadequate healthcare, and vulnerability to violence and insecurity. McCarthy [14] (p. 764) argues that only a sustained political commitment to addressing the long-term consequences of slavery and segregation can effectively remedy these systemic disadvantages.

On the issue of reparations, McCarthy adopts a framework of collective responsibility rather than individualized compensation. This position directly challenges Janna Thompson’s [15] account of transgenerational obligations, which holds that reparations should be limited to cases where specific losses can be traced to identifiable descendants [15] (p. 132). McCarthy critiques this narrow, individualist conception, arguing instead that the harms inflicted by slavery and racial discrimination are collective in nature. These injustices have produced entrenched patterns of disadvantage that persist at the community level and therefore require a collective response [14] (p. 754).

McCarthy also differentiates his account from that of David Miller, who emphasizes cultural continuity in his theory of intergenerational responsibility. By contrast, McCarthy conceptualizes such responsibility in primarily legal–political terms. He argues that contemporary members of a political community inherit not only the benefits but also the obligations of their national past. Since historical injustices were often perpetrated through state institutions and legal frameworks, it is the political community as a whole—rather than individual citizens—who bear the duty to rectify their consequences [14] (p. 758). Importantly, McCarthy frames this as a matter of responsibility rather than guilt. Reparations, in his view, should be seen as expressions of collective liability, not as instruments of collective punishment.

To address the legacies of slavery, McCarthy outlines two primary mechanisms. First, he advocates for comprehensive educational reform. This includes setting higher standards for history instruction and implementing curricular changes that more accurately represent the historical experiences of marginalized groups. On a broader scale, he proposes the establishment of a national museum dedicated to the history of slavery as a means of fostering public understanding and engagement [14] (p. 642). Second, McCarthy views reparations not merely as compensation but as a potential catalyst for a collective exchange of views on race relations. Structured public forums—such as hearings, truth commissions, and public inquiries—could help bridge the divide between academic historiography and public memory, promoting a more inclusive understanding of national history [14] (p. 765).

McCarthy’s vision of democratic accountability and collective remembrance resonates with Andrew Dobson’s [10] emphasis on the political significance of listening. For Dobson, democratic processes require the inclusion of marginalized voices, and this inclusion is achieved not only through representation but through attentive, responsive listening. Pablo De Greiff [13] (p. 629) reinforces this view by asserting that societies have an ethical obligation to remember what victims cannot be expected to forget. According to Dobson, listening possesses a “solvent power” capable of dissolving the barriers of mistrust and exclusion that often characterize the relationship between historically marginalized groups and the state.

Andrew Dobson’s [10] emphasis on the political significance of listening offers a powerful response to the shortcomings of ahistorical liberalism. Dobson argues that listening is not merely a passive act but a deliberate and political form of attentiveness that is central to democratic practice and justice. In the context of debates on historical injustice, this conception of listening foregrounds the importance of engaging with the voices of those who have experienced historical wrongs, rather than relying solely on abstract, forward-looking liberal principles. Ahistorical liberalism, by contrast, tends to universalize norms and ignore the specific historical contexts that have shaped contemporary inequalities. Dobson might challenge this tendency by insisting that listening involves being receptive to claims that emerge from particular histories of exclusion and oppression. He sees listening as a political act, a claim that underscores the moral and epistemic weight of historical narratives in contemporary political discourse. Furthermore, Dobson links listening to processes of recognition and reconciliation, suggesting that it can serve as a foundation for restorative justice. In this way, Dobson’s political theory of listening contributes significantly to arguments against ahistorical liberalism by affirming the ethical necessity of acknowledging and responding to past injustices through genuine attentiveness to marginalized voices.

In confronting the enduring legacies of slavery and systemic racism, Thomas McCarthy [6,7] offers a powerful critique of liberal theories of justice that abstract from historical context and treat inequality as a matter of individual desert or moral failure. Such ahistorical approaches, McCarthy contends, obscure the structural and collective dimensions of injustice, thereby limiting the scope of democratic repair. By reframing justice as a historically situated and politically collective endeavor, McCarthy challenges dominant paradigms that neglect the long-term effects of state-sanctioned oppression and the moral demands they impose on current generations. Central to his vision is the principle of recognition—not merely in the interpersonal sense, but as a societal imperative to acknowledge and make visible the histories, voices, and experiences of marginalized groups. This politics of memory demands a reorientation of public discourse and institutional practice, one that honors the narratives of those historically excluded from dominant accounts of national identity. Through education, public commemoration, and structural redress, McCarthy envisions a form of justice rooted not in abstraction but in historical accountability and mutual respect. In doing so, he not only confronts the failures of liberalism to address racial injustice but also offers a transformative model for democratic reconciliation grounded in recognition, remembrance, and responsibility.

5. Conclusions

In conclusion, this article has argued that liberal theories of justice, while foundational to contemporary political philosophy, remain insufficient when they neglect the historical dimensions of injustice. The ahistorical orientation found in traditional liberal frameworks—particularly in the work of Rawls and proponents of the supersession thesis—fails to account for the ways in which past wrongs continue to shape present social realities. Such approaches risk perpetuating harm by treating historical injustices as morally irrelevant once formal equality or institutional reforms are achieved. However, as contemporary theorists such as Thompson, Spinner-Halev, and McCarthy demonstrate, enduring injustices demand sustained moral and political attention. These critiques reveal that justice cannot be decoupled from memory, and that liberalism must be reconfigured to include historical consciousness as a core element of ethical responsibility.

This article seeks to explore how liberal normative commitments might be reshaped when confronted with the enduring force of historical injustice, without reducing complex political and historical realities to an overly rationalized ethical framework. We should acknowledge a central tension: ethical reasoning in liberal traditions often trends toward abstraction, individualism, and decontextualization, whereas historically grounded thinking emphasizes contingency, structural embeddedness, and the persistence of inequalities that resist neat moral resolution. Rather than attempt to resolve this tension, the analysis asks what it would mean for liberal conceptions of justice to take historical temporality seriously while maintaining a commitment to fairness, equality, and public reason. In doing so, this article resists the absorption of historical consciousness into ethics, advocating instead for a reciprocal interrogation of normative ideals by historical realities.

By drawing insights from memory studies, this article has further shown that the recognition of marginalized histories is not only a matter of moral redress but also a prerequisite for democratic legitimacy and inclusion. Recognition, in this context, entails more than acknowledgment—it involves a structural and cultural commitment to listening to historically silenced voices, understanding the cumulative impact of systemic harm, and fostering a politics of remembrance that informs contemporary policy and discourse. Without such recognition, liberal justice risks reinforcing the very exclusions it purports to overcome. As liberal democracies grapple with the legacies of colonialism, slavery, and racial violence, the imperative is clear: justice must be historically informed, collectively accountable, and responsive to the voices and experiences of the marginalized. Only then can the liberal project genuinely aspire toward equality, legitimacy, and reconciliation.

Reflections on the concept of justice reveal that it cannot be understood as a singular or monolithic ideal. Rather, justice consists of multiple layers, each corresponding to different forms of injustice and requiring distinct forms of response. This layered conception of justice resists collapsing ethical, political, and historical reasoning into a single register, while still acknowledging their mutual entanglement. Political responsibility, for instance, often entails the negotiation of competing normative claims within conditions of pluralism and institutional constraint. Historical responsibility, by contrast, reflects obligations shaped not only by moral principles but also by inherited entanglements and enduring social relationships. Ethics remains indispensable for articulating the values that animate responses to injustice, yet it cannot by itself resolve the dilemmas posed by structurally and temporally embedded harms.

While traditional theories of justice often rely on universalist assumptions that aim for an abstract impartiality, these frameworks frequently overlook the particularities and asymmetries embedded in lived experiences. An inclusive approach to justice must therefore account for difference—whether cultural, social, or historical—and resist flattening such distinctions in the name of universality. Yet, even a justice framework that acknowledges difference may fall short if it fails to interrogate the epistemic foundations that shape recognition itself.

Recent developments in political and social philosophy have brought renewed attention to what has been termed epistemic justice, a concept prominently articulated by Miranda Fricker. In her seminal work, Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing, Fricker [16] distinguishes between testimonial injustice—wherein a speaker’s credibility is unfairly deflated due to prejudice—and hermeneutical injustice, which occurs when marginalized groups lack the conceptual resources to make sense of their social experiences. These forms of injustice highlight how power operates not only through institutional structures but also through epistemic frameworks that govern who is heard, who is believed, and whose experiences are intelligible.

Building on and expanding Fricker’s work, José Medina offers a more dynamic and politically engaged account of epistemic injustice. In The Epistemology of Resistance, Medina [17] emphasizes the importance of epistemic friction—the productive clash of divergent perspectives—as essential for challenging dominant epistemic paradigms and fostering democratic knowledge practices. He argues that achieving epistemic justice requires not only individual virtue but also collective efforts to amplify marginalized voices and sustain epistemic resistance to oppression.

From this standpoint, recognition itself becomes a contested and problematic process. If the knowledge through which individuals are recognized is shaped by systemic biases or exclusions, then the act of recognition cannot be presumed to be just. Epistemic justice, as outlined by Fricker and Medina, compels us to critically examine the very grounds upon which recognition is granted or withheld. It draws attention to how prejudice and ignorance can be embedded in the production and transmission of knowledge, thereby perpetuating injustice even under the guise of inclusion. Thus, any comprehensive account of justice must integrate this epistemic dimension. It is not sufficient to simply acknowledge difference or expand the scope of inclusion; one must also interrogate the epistemic conditions that inform how knowledge is constructed and circulated. Only through such critical reflection can the deeper, often concealed, layers of injustice be meaningfully addressed.

Ultimately, a strong understanding of justice needs to take into account the significance of historical context. Liberal theories that abstract justice from its historical context risk not only misunderstanding the nature of present inequalities but also reinforcing the very structures they seek to ameliorate. The ahistorical orientation of mainstream liberalism, exemplified in theories that prioritize procedural fairness or future-oriented rectification, obscures the enduring legacy of past wrongs and the systemic patterns they reproduce. Critiquing these limitations is not a mere theoretical exercise; it is a moral and political imperative.

While liberalism resists ascribing moral responsibility based on descent or group identity, its commitments to fairness, equality, and democratic inclusion require attention to the structural conditions shaping individuals’ lives. When those conditions have been shaped by historical injustice and continue to affect access to rights, resources, and recognition, liberal societies may have a forward-looking obligation to address these harms—not in the name of inherited guilt, but to fulfill their own egalitarian ideals. This position respectfully challenges Jeremy Waldron’s supersession thesis, which cautions against grounding justice claims in outdated historical grievances. While I share Waldron’s caution about the moral overreach of the past, I argue that some injustices persist precisely because their structural effects remain entrenched. In such cases, where historical injustices continue to reproduce present inequalities, liberal theory cannot disregard the past but must develop criteria for when redress is warranted, combining normative justification with empirical analysis.

Liberalism’s strength lies not only in its rejection of inherited guilt but in its capacity for principled self-correction. By recognizing the enduring impact of historical injustice, liberal societies have the opportunity to reaffirm their core commitments and make them a reality for all citizens, across time and space.

To ignore the past is to silence the voices of those whose lives have been shaped by its violence, exclusion, and dispossession. Recognizing historical injustice is thus essential—not only for achieving epistemic and moral clarity but also for grounding liberal democratic commitments in a framework of accountability, remembrance, and structural transformation. Justice, if it is to be meaningful, must be historically situated, critically engaged, and oriented toward rectifying both the material and epistemic harms that continue to shape our world.