Philosophical Genealogy

Definition

Philosophical genealogy constitutes a mode of inquiry that investigates either (a) the historical emergence of contemporary ideas, institutions, religions, moral norms, and even affective dispositions by tracing them to the intersection of diverse and often heterogeneous historical practices, beliefs, customs, and technologies or (b) demonstrates how a phenomenon could have emerged by providing a pragmatic reconstruction of the object under investigation. The following entry endeavors to explore various formulations of the genealogical method.

1. Introduction

This entry will examine a philosophical method named “genealogy.” The purpose of this article is to communicate the main features of philosophical genealogy to readers who are unfamiliar with the term, as well as to spell out the main types of the genealogical method. These include the three most discussed in the literature (the documentary, the ironic, and the pragmatic) as well as two more recent kinds, such as the deconstructive and implexic. Although it might be difficult to ascertain what makes these methods genealogical, the author will, following Wittgenstein, demonstrate that said methods share “family resemblances” (pun intended). The author will articulate these family resemblances before proceeding to a more precise explication of each method. The investigation begins by comparing ancestral genealogy to philosophical genealogy, as this will allow the reader, who, perhaps, is unfamiliar with genealogy, to understand why quintessential philosophical and historical investigations, such as Foucault’s Discipline and Punish or Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals, are considered paradigmatic genealogical texts. The entry concludes with a discussion of the genetic fallacy, an objection often raised against philosophical genealogy’s justificatory merit, and provides reasons to demonstrate how genealogy may blunt the thrust of this objection.

2. Family Genealogy and Philosophical Genealogy: How to Branch the Tree

Just as there may be two principal goals when tracing a family genealogy, Foucault’s and Nietzsche’s respective genealogical histories exemplify these different aims. The first goal in investigating one’s ancestors might be to fill in all the branches of the family tree. Consider that if I wanted to discover who my ancestors were, I would trace a line which branches geometrically—to my father and mother, (2) to each of their respective parents (4), and to their parents (8), etc. Thus, I would attempt to discover all branches of my family tree responsible for my existence. Analogously, the goal of a philosophical genealogical inquiry, according to Foucault, is to trace the line of descent of the problematique (the particular idea, emotion, practice, etc., that the genealogist wishes to investigate for; historical exposure) to what were once distinct strands. To make this point more concrete, for Foucault, it is only by exposing the origins of concepts like normalcy and the label of “criminal”—alongside the technologies that enabled such categorizations, such as surveillance, architectural innovations like the panopticon, and new disciplinary methods—that we uncover a historical shift: the emergence of the carceral regime. It is due to the very emergence of the “prison archipelago” that we may call Foucault’s problematique: the central theme of Foucault’s genealogical work, Discipline and Punish [1,2].

The above conception of family genealogy is not exhaustive. There may be a different genealogical emphasis, and, thus, a different way in which one might desire to trace their family’s genealogical tree. This leads us to the second goal of philosophical genealogy, one exemplified by Nietzsche. For example, if I am interested in discovering if I am related to King Charles III of Great Britain, I would trace my ancestry differently. I would be primarily interested in tracing a single genealogical thread to see if I was indeed related or not. In essence, filling out the complete tree is secondary to the primary goal of discovering a single line of descent to a common ancestor. This approach to family genealogy is analogous to Nietzsche’s conception of philosophical genealogical inquiry. According to Nietzsche, a genealogist initiates an investigation by questioning whether there is a common origin between the myriad concepts, behaviors, feelings, and ideas present in contemporary society [1,2]. In Nietzsche’s specific case, the primary focus of On the Genealogy of Morals is to understand how the promise-making animal, man, came to be. All three stories from the Genealogy contribute to explaining how some new phenomenon emerged on earth: an animal that has the right to make promises and whose said promises very often contradict the human animal’s instincts. Nietzsche’s genealogical journey from the origin of good and evil in GM 1 to the origin of guilt in GM II to the meaning of the ascetic ideal in GM III are like different family tree trunks that, nevertheless, have their ultimate root in the internalization hypothesis found in GM II 16: all instincts that do not discharge themselves outwardly turn inward.

3. Family Genealogy vs. Philosophical Genealogy: Why We Are Branching out the Tree

Considering family genealogy in relation to philosophical genealogy is beneficial in regard to another shared aspect between the two: purpose. Consider that if one is tracing all the branches of the family tree, one may do so for a variety of reasons: to see one’s complete ethnic origin, to ascertain facts passed down from generation to generation about the stories one heard about one’s ancestors, or to see if one’s ancestor was a despicable person (e.g., slave-owner) or someone to be lauded (a fighter for freedom). The inquiry is perspectival, given that the starting point of the investigation is something that matters to the family genealogist. The investigation is suffused with this individual’s interests and concerns. It will conclude when that individual believes that the goals of the project have been either (a) fulfilled or (b) when there is an insurmountable roadblock (e.g., a documentary dead-end) preventing them from any further inquiry.

The initial purpose for constructing a family genealogy is transmutable to philosophical genealogy. A genealogy embraces perspectivism broadly construed—it is not a form of reductive historiography. While genealogy is grounded in historical events and empirical data, it diverges significantly from conventional historiographical approaches.

The distinction between historical and genealogical methodologies is, of course, not absolute; nevertheless, Bruce Knauft provides a valuable framework for discerning their differences. He observes that, “at one level, genealogy, as opposed to history, is simply an alternative way of considering the relationship between entities over time—not in a relationship of assumed causation, but in an alternative or bare factual sequence of what preceded and succeeded what” [3], (p. 20). Knauft’s formulation suggests that historical explanations typically aim to identify causal relationships that can account for the emergence of significant events. Such accounts often imply that similar outcomes—such as revolutions, wars, or social transformations—would recur predictably under a particular set of historical conditions. Genealogies, by contrast, resist this deterministic impulse. They posit that historical events are overdetermined and contingent; even under identical conditions, outcomes are not guaranteed to repeat. This perspective underscores the fragility and unpredictability of historical developments. As Foucault puts it, “Genealogy does not pretend to go back in time to restore an unbroken continuity that operates beyond the dispersion of forgotten things; its duty is not to demonstrate that the past actively exists in the present” [4] (p. 146). In other words, whereas traditional historical narratives often emphasize linear progression, genealogical accounts foreground the contingency of events, offering alternative narratives that resist teleological closure [5,6]. Genealogical investigations attempt to demonstrate that the past is open to a multitude of competing perspectives.

In sum, genealogy distinguishes itself by its commitment to tracing historical phenomena in a non-teleological manner and by offering an alternative to simplistic, reductive linear causation accounts of historical events. It highlights the contingency of both interpretive frameworks and historical developments, offering a mode of inquiry that is attuned to the complexity and indeterminacy of the past. Genealogy in all forms embraces perspectivism, broadly construed here to mean either that facts are indexical to frameworks (such as is the case with ironic genealogies), or where there are several ways of construing the functionality of some concept or practice (such as with practical genealogies), or whether we have reason to prefer one way of framing the facts of an historical phenomenon (as with documentary genealogies). We will return to this aspect of perspectivism in relation to specific genealogical methods below (Perspectivism is conceptually loaded and the subject of competing perspectives! The term is taken from GM III: 12, where Nietzsche declares, “there is only a perspective seeing, a perspective knowing.”).

4. Family Genealogies and Philosophical Genealogies: The Given

Family genealogies presuppose, provided that no disconfirming evidence is present, that, all things considered, the children of a married couple are the couple’s biological offspring. If this truth were not accepted, it would be difficult for a family genealogy to begin. The assumption, namely, that, all things considered, the children of a married couple are assumed to be the couple’s biological offspring, is a “given.” Analogously, philosophical genealogy also assumes givens: warranted presuppositions that allow the genealogy to unfold. Contrary to traditional misconceptions, see [7,8,9,10], the given should not be understood as a primitive or lowly origin that, all by themselves, causally generates the subject matter of genealogical inquiry (see [11] for an extended critique of such interpretations, and Brandom’s in particular). The givens may differ depending on the type of genealogy (e.g., documentary, pragmatic, or ironic) one employs.

Take, for example, the genealogies of Nietzsche and Foucault. They foreground the importance of somatic technologies in driving historical change; although, as we will discover, the corporeal platforming of this grounding differs greatly. Nietzsche, for instance, focuses on torture as a technique that is instrumental in the formation of moral concepts, such as guilt (On the Genealogy of Morals, II:3, II, 12–13, II:16). Guilt, however, is based on a physiological underpinning: animal instincts that may be transformed into life-denying drives. For Nietzsche, the body is a thick substrate: the host of drives that may be exapted to new ends [12] (for an alternative interpretation of the Nietzschean body, see [13]). Drives would be Nietzsche’s given as they constitute the primary token of his psychological system [14,15].

Foucault similarly explores disciplinary mechanisms in Discipline and Punish, illustrating how techniques of training and surveillance contribute to the emergence of the “carceral regime” [16]. Foucault rejects the notion of a primordial body with inherent drives (see his interview Body/Power in [17]); nevertheless, the Frenchman accords a special place for the body within his genealogy because, “The body is the inscribed surface of events” [4] (p. 148). The body, in his account, is shaped by the temporal rhythms of labor, rest, and ritual [4] (p. 153), and yet it has a distinct structure that goes beyond its social formatting as it can receive and retain new forms of training from emergent dispositifs (power/knowledge apparatuses) [2,16] (See Deleuze’s Foucault [18] for how a dispositif produces one’s subjectivization). Thus, despite differing emphases, both philosophers presuppose a shared given: the human body’s malleability [19]. It is this shared assumption that enables their respective genealogical accounts to proceed.

Though the concept of the given may initially appear foundationalist, it need not conflict with postmodern sensibilities that reject grand narratives and emphasize the perspectival nature of knowledge. Rather, the given should be understood as a mise en scène—a staging ground that permits the emergence of new discourses, values, and practices [5]. In this sense, the given is that which enables the eruption of the emergent, echoing Foucault’s formulation of history as “the entry of forces” [4] (p. 149).

5. Family Genealogy and Philosophical Genealogy: The Significance of Chance and the Counterfactual

Family genealogy places pride of place on chance, contingency, and, by implication, counterfactuals. These two ideas are closely related. Consider that when tracing one’s family tree, it is tacitly acknowledged that, in very few exceptions, the marriage between parent A and parent B did not have to happen. To draw on an example from Hollywood, it is understood that in the movie Back to the Future, the meeting of Marty McFly’s parents at the “Enchantment Under the Sea” high school dance was a stroke of luck; if they had not met, neither Marty nor his siblings would exist. Even in the case of pre-arranged marriages, whether they are royal or, otherwise, lucky (or unfortunate) accidents are par for the course. This highlights another contingency inherent in ancestral genealogy: children from marriage are often viewed as fortunate accidents from the perspective of the family genealogist, as, without children, there would be nothing to research. But there is something else: the implicit recognition of contingency, both in the case of the marriage and the children (or not) it produced, leads to thinking about possible counterfactual states of affairs, some of which may be trivial, at least from the perspective of the family genealogist (e.g., what if my great-great-uncle never married?), and some that might take on historical significance (e.g., what if King Henry VIII had a male child who survived into adulthood?).

Contingency and its implications, such as contemplating counterfactual states of affairs, can be explored in a philosophical key. In this first part, the author will examine contingency. In the next section below, the author will elaborate on a crucial aspect of genealogy that counterfactual states make possible: therapy and self-transformation.

Turning to contingency first, what unites genealogical thinkers, whether documentarians, ironic, or pragmatic, deconstructive, or implexic, is not a shared return to origins but a shared philosophical commitment: the denial of metaphysical foundations for human practices and concepts. As David Couzens Hoy argues in “Nietzsche, Hume and the Genealogical Method”, genealogy functions as a form of non-metaphysical philosophy [20] (p. 251). Eric Blondel similarly characterizes genealogy as a heterology—a discourse on the “other”—that “uncovers the hidden in the same” [21] (p. 309). For Foucault, genealogy reveals not a coherent history, but a discontinuous space—a void in which competing forces collide. As he writes: “Consequently no one is responsible for an emergence; no one glorifies in it, since it always occurs in the interstice” [4] (p. 150).

Implicit in these descriptions of genealogy is the acknowledgment of a radical contingency: novel institutions, feelings, religions, etc., arise not from linear causation but from the intersection of pre-existing discursive and non-discursive practices that themselves are products of prior social, bodily, and political conditions that did not have to be. However, the non-metaphysical nature of genealogy highlights its most important aspects: its salutary effects. I now turn to examining this attribute.

6. Family and Philosophical Genealogies: Counterfactuals, Therapy, and Self-Transformation

In having one’s family tree analyzed, one often discovers new truths; they are sometimes disquieting and disturbing, and at other times exhilarating and laudatory, but almost always thought-provoking. Consider Louis Gates’ Finding Your Roots—a television show that traces the family genealogy of celebrities, politicians, and academics. In nearly all cases, the ancestral truths Gates and his team discover surprise, sometimes delightfully, as when it was revealed that Bernie Sanders and Larry David are distant cousins, or shock, as when noted scholar and activist Angela Davis learned she was descended from William Brewster, one of the original 101 passengers on the Mayflower (For a summary of the original show see: https://www.today.com/popculture/tv/angela-davis-finding-your-roots-mayflower-ancestors-rcna71700 (accessed 14 May 2025). In either case, family genealogies have a way of prompting one to rethink one’s relation to one’s ancestors, as well as to one’s very identity.

The transformative powers of ancestral genealogy are portable to philosophical genealogy. In his later writings, Michel Foucault contends that subjectivity may be understood operationally—as the site through which contemporary modalities of thinking, feeling, acting, speaking, and behaving are instantiated [22] (pp. 47–48). These modalities of self-relation, which Foucault refers to as rapport à soi, are contingent rather than necessary. Accordingly, their analysis is best undertaken genealogically—that is, by tracing the historical conditions under which these specific configurations of self-relation emerged. The purpose of genealogy, then, is to reveal the contingent and historical character of practices and norms that have come to appear natural or inevitable.

Such recognition of the arbitrariness of such social and political practices entails that other ways of self-relation are possible. For some philosophical genealogists, it is the counterfactual possibilities that genealogy makes available that demonstrate its emancipatory power. Daniele Lorenzini baptizes such a genealogical approach as “possibilizing genealogy.” This approach not only challenges established norms but also creates space for alternative modes of thought and existence, encouraging political engagement and imaginative exploration [23,24] (For an encomiastic, yet critical, appraisal of Lorenzi’s work, see [25]). For a similar account that emphasizes “pluralizing genealogy” instead of “possibilizing”, see [26]. Mark Bevir also articulates the emancipatory potential of genealogy, emphasizing its capacity to open avenues for personal and social transformation through the critical reflection on the contingent footing of one’s beliefs and normative commitments. He observes the following: “Finally, genealogy opens novel spaces for personal and social transformation precisely because it loosens the hold on us of entrenched ideas and institutions; it frees us to imagine other possibilities” [27] (p. 272).

Through genealogical analysis, the formation of subjectivity is shown to be a product of historically situated and often haphazard processes. This perspective displaces metaphysical accounts that treat specific thoughts, feelings, or behaviors as essential to the human condition. Instead, subjectivity itself becomes a contingent construct—one that is both a product of history and a potential site of transformation. The constraints once perceived as fixed limits on human experience are recast as historically produced boundaries that may be transcended. Foucault terms these boundaries “limit attitudes,” which demand experimental engagement and critical transgression [22] (p. 50). Genealogy, in this sense, has a therapeutic dimension. It unsettles the seeming certainties of history and opens knowledge to new, transformative possibilities [28] (p. 77).

This therapeutic function is deeply rooted in the work of Foucault’s intellectual predecessor, Friedrich Nietzsche. In the preface to On the Genealogy of Morals, Nietzsche underscores the seriousness of genealogical inquiry, suggesting that only through such rigorous examinations can we confront and perhaps neutralize the “poison” embedded in our prevailing value systems. He writes the following: “To me on the contrary, there seems to be nothing more worth taking seriously… for cheerfulness or in my language gay science is a reward: the reward of a long, brave, industrious and subterranean seriousness of which to be sure not everyone is capable” [29] (Nietzsche, Preface, sec. 7).

For Nietzsche, while interrogating one’s beliefs is critical, the questioning of one’s affective dispositions is even more urgent, given that, “it is feelings and not thoughts” that are inherited [30] (sec. 30). If this emphasis on affect is warranted, and if, as Nietzsche suggests, systems of power operate not merely on beliefs but also on affective structures, then the genealogical project becomes a form of subterranean labor—an intensive and personal process of ethical transformation. The reward for such labor is nothing less than the reconfiguration of the self. As Christopher Janaway succinctly puts it: “How did I come to feel and think in these ways of mine? That is one sense in which the inquiry must be personal for Nietzsche” [31] (p. 347).

In sum, genealogy is not merely a historical method; it is an ethical praxis that challenges the necessity of the present by exposing its historical contingency. In performing so, it invites the subject to inhabit new possibilities of self-relation, thereby transforming the very conditions of agency and identity.

7. Philosophical Genealogy: Typologies

In recent scholarship, many different genealogical approaches have emerged. Such methodologies include documentary, ironic, pragmatic, problematizing, deconstructive, possibilizing, and implexic, to name just a few. The prolific outgrowth of such genealogical varieties over the past 10 years has led to attempts to classify genealogies into different types. Such typologies exist along two axes: the epistemic and the axiological [32]. Epistemic approaches are typically classified into debunking, critical, or problematizing, and pragmatic approaches [33]. Debunking genealogies argue that the purpose of a genealogy is to track truth and, in doing so, throw off traditional narratives used to explain the emergence of historical phenomena. Prototypes for this sort of genealogy would be Hume’s account of religion [34] and Xenophanes’s explanation for the belief in the gods [35].

Critical or problematizing genealogies are weaker, epistemically speaking, than debunking. Following David Owen, Koopman, and Potte-Bonneville, [36,37,38,39] they do not and cannot demonstrate that a past interpretation is false. Instead, they show that it is questionable and offer an alternative lens through which to investigate the phenomenon. David Owen, for example, rejects the view that genealogies are ideology critiques in the Marxian or Freudian sense. Ideology critique presupposes that individuals are afflicted by false consciousness—that is, they (1) hold beliefs which legitimize oppressive social structures, and (2) are impeded from recognizing these beliefs as false due to systemic obfuscation (through media, education, or other mechanisms). Ideology critique aims to expose these distortions and offer individuals access to unmediated truth [36,37]. Critical genealogies, in contrast, simply try to show there are many other perspectives through which to view the emergence of historical phenomena.

Finally, practical or pragmatic genealogies provide a state-of-nature hypothesis about how a particular idea, feeling, or institution might have come about [19,40,41,42,43]. While it is more obvious how debunking and critical genealogies are connected to epistemic concerns, pragmatic genealogies remain tied to epistemic matters, as readers of such a genealogy must judge whether the imaginary hypothesis is reasonable.

Depending on the epistemic position a genealogy develops, its moral dimension will be impacted. For example, a successful debunking genealogy puts into question the traditional truth of a particular historical interpretation regarding some phenomenon. In that case, axiologically speaking, the genealogy is classified as condemnatory, as it falsifies the traditional interpretation of the object under investigation, likely leading the reader of said genealogy to abandon their belief.

In contrast to debunking models of genealogy, critical genealogists disavow such elevated epistemological ambitions of the debunker. Critical genealogies do not promise liberation via the uncovering of hidden truths but instead reveal the limitations of our cognitive and normative frameworks—what Owen calls “restricted self-consciousness” [37]. Restricted consciousness is not defined by falsity per se, but by the mistaken belief that one’s own worldview constitutes the only possible horizon of intelligibility. In this view, genealogy’s critical power lies not in replacing false beliefs with true ones, but in disclosing the historical and contingent limits of one’s evaluative standpoint. As noted above in Section 5, the offering of an alternative lens is liberating in that it provides new ways to think about the relationship one has with one’s belief system and the practices that inform them, along with one’s very self-constitution.

Finally, pragmatic genealogies can be either vindicatory in that they substantiate the axiological value of the object or practice under genealogical investigation, such as we find with Hobbes’ pragmatic genealogy as found in Leviathan, where he vindicates the existence of the political state, or condemnatory as they show there are under-scrutinized alternative hypotheses for the emergence of a phenomenon [44]. Tersely stated here, a pragmatic genealogy asks its readers to entertain a State of Nature hypothesis—it places one in a fictional setting. It asks the following: would it be reasonable for a contemporary social practice, such as truth-telling, to emerge from that imaginary state? If readers can place themselves in such a setting and affirm that, given the bare parameters of such a situation, in this case truth-telling, would serve a crucial function, then the genealogy is normatively justified. The idea, in brief, is that any community we can imagine will need to function as a community with a set of specific practices. If the genealogist can then demonstrate that the current practice(s) within one’s community, imperfect as they may be, share the same conceptual structure as these practices in the imaginary community, then the genealogy serves to vindicate the practice under discussion [19,42,43] (For a critical discussion of Price’s hypothetical state of nature theory (the MOANS) see [45].

With this sketch, I now turn to examine five different types of philosophical genealogy. Emphasis will be placed on the methods used for that model of genealogy.

8. Model 1: The Documentary Reading of Genealogy

The first interpretive model—commonly referred to in the secondary literature as the “documentary” or “substantive” reading—understands genealogy as a critical method aimed at correcting traditional accounts concerning the emergence of practices, values, and emotions. Under this framework, genealogical analysis aims to offer a more historically grounded etiology of moral phenomena by replacing mythologized or ideological explanations with empirically and conceptually more robust ones [1,2,46].

Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals: A Polemic provides a paradigmatic example of this documentary approach, at least according to some readings of the text [46,47,48,49,50]. The work comprises three interrelated genealogies, each of which attempts to trace the origins of a moral concept or affect-laden practice. The first genealogy investigates the emergence of the concepts of “good” and “evil” and the behavioral norms they govern. The second interrogates the genesis of guilt, challenging the dominant theological view of Nietzsche’s time that guilt is a divinely implanted faculty. The third addresses the ascetic ideal, which appears paradoxical within the prevailing framework of nineteenth-century psychological hedonism. The substantive reading holds that Nietzsche’s genealogical narratives are compelling precisely because they are more coherent and better warranted than the traditional Christian accounts they seek to debunk. The evidence Nietzsche marshals—from historical and linguistic to biological and psychological—is extensive and systematically interwoven to construct a cohesive explanatory narrative. By providing a more empirically warranted history of our current moral codes and practices, the reader of Nietzsche’s genealogy is able to cast off life-denying customs and, therefore, embrace and pursue their authentic selves [51,52].

Nevertheless, this model faces a significant methodological challenge: Nietzsche’s genealogies, when interpreted as accurate historical reconstructions, may not, in fact, meet the standards of empirical warrant they appear to claim. Scholars critical of this reading fall into three broad camps. The first includes those who, while skeptical of the specific historical and factual claims Nietzsche makes, maintain that the broader contours of his arguments remain philosophically illuminating [49,50,53,54]. The second group is more dismissive, contending that Nietzsche’s hypotheses amount to speculative narratives with scant historical or archeological support. Daniel Dennett, an influential representative of this position, characterizes Nietzsche’s genealogies as “Just So Stories”—a blend of brilliance and fantasy, in which moments of incisive insight are undermined by ungrounded conjecture [47] (p. 464). A third, intermediary camp argues that Nietzsche’s conclusions are compromised by outdated theories and the pervasive prejudices of 19th-century European thought, which informed many of his assumptions about psychology, biology, and culture [55].

The upshot of these critiques is that, as empirical accounts, Nietzsche’s genealogies may appear tenuous or even antiquated when compared with the work of contemporary ethical naturalists. These critics emphasize that modern inquiries into the evolution of morality benefit from rigorous methodologies informed by archeology, neuroscience, evolutionary biology, cognitive psychology, and linguistics—tools unavailable to Nietzsche. As such and following the typology above, if Nietzsche’s genealogies are indeed meant to be a debunking kind of genealogical practice, then as products of 19th-century historiography, they surely do not pass epistemic muster, and their curative entailments are, therefore, greatly mitigated.

Another flavor of this school suggests that genealogies require rigorous documentation of past events, not to demonstrate the genealogy as more truthful than the traditional story proffered for the phenomenon under investigation but rather to argue that one must be mindful of how objects of belief, practices, rituals, and feelings—the very carpentry of our lives—come to be. Rather than debunking the assumed truth of past interpretations, such genealogies problematize them [38,56,57].

Perhaps the clearest articulation of the aims of problematizing genealogies is found in Justin Ratcliffe’s article: “Genealogy: a Conceptual Map.” Paraphrasing Ratcliffe, problematizing genealogies critically foreground the underlying structures—what might be termed background frameworks or discursive formations—that condition the very possibility of identifying certain entities as candidates for belief. These include the conceptual apparatuses implicated in belief and judgment, the cognitive and perceptual capacities and dispositions of epistemic agents, the socio-historical contexts in which utterances occur, and the networks of presupposed beliefs that are tacitly assumed. Such formations constitute the discursive terrain upon which belief becomes intelligible and salient; they are the channels through which the current of belief flows [33] (pp. 1256–1257). The recognition of the ineradicability of contingency vis-à-vis our self-constitution is linked to genealogy’s normative project, as such recognition calls for a radical reimagining of our sense of self [57]. Although Ratcliffe and others like Allen [56] and Koopman [36,58] argue that problematizing genealogy is distinct from debunking, I argue that this is not entirely true: methodologically, both forms of genealogy require careful documentation of how the present ways in which we come to understand ourselves came to be. It is this conscientious documentation (what Foucault notes as “constant erudition” [4] that makes new vistas of self-understanding possible.

9. Model 2: The Ironic

In Continental philosophy, and particularly in interpretations of Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals, one dominant strand of thought—what I refer to as the “ironic interpretation”—privileges a reading that places power at the center of Nietzsche’s critical project. This reading construes genealogy as an attempt to persuade readers that rationality itself is a construct of power. Central to this interpretation is Nietzsche’s well-known assertion in GM III:12 that “there is only a perspective seeing, only a perspective ‘knowing’; and the more affects we allow to speak about one thing, the more eyes, different eyes, we can use to observe one thing, the more complete will our ‘concept’ of this thing, our ‘objectivity,’ be.” According to the ironic reading, all claims—including Nietzsche’s own—are shaped and inflected by this perspectival stance [59].

Elaborating on the implications of this view reveals four core theses: (1) all statements are reflective of contingent, historically situated enculturation; (2) such enculturation is inescapable; (3) values are integral to, and constitutive of, cultural formations; and (4) cultures themselves are manifestations of power. If one accepts these premises, the traditional distinction between descriptive and evaluative claims collapses. The conclusions of any investigation—including genealogical inquiry—become expressions of the investigator’s social formation, rather than objective assessments. Moreover, this formation is not grounded in any deeper, essential conception of human nature, but is wholly contingent, arbitrary, and historical [5].

This view has tremendous transformative powers, so some argue, because it means we do not and should not take our current subjective construction seriously. The self, under this reading, is not something to be won through painstaking psychotherapy, but is a creative enterprise through and through.

While this ironic interpretation is intellectually provocative, it presents significant philosophical challenges. If reason itself is merely an epiphenomenon of power—if standards of justification and warrant are contingent outcomes of particular regimes of force—then normative criteria for adjudicating between competing worldviews become internal to, and incommensurable across, cultural frameworks or dispositifs (to use Foucault’s term-specific power/knowledge). The result is the erosion of any standpoint from which one might claim that a genealogical account is more warranted than the narratives it critiques. Hence, if genealogy purports to reveal the origins of moral phenomena, such a claim would either be ironic or entail a performative contradiction.

To address this difficulty, defenders of the ironic model often appeal to what may be called the “irony defense.” According to this view, genealogies do not purport to be more truthful than the accounts they deconstruct; rather, they reject the possibility of occupying any neutral, objective stance. Nietzschean perspectivism thereby renders the question “Are Nietzsche’s genealogies true?” a category error. Nevertheless, Nietzsche explicitly situates his genealogical project as purposeful and polemical, as indicated in the subtitle of On the Genealogy of Morality—Eine Streitschrift (A Polemic).

This defense has multiple iterations. One influential strand presents Nietzschean genealogy as a form of modern ephexis—a suspension of judgment designed to destabilize dogmatic belief by exposing the problematic assumptions embedded in traditional narratives [60]. Under this view, readers are asked to suspend commitment to both the traditional moral account (e.g., the Christian notion of guilt) and Nietzsche’s alternative, maintaining a skeptical equipollence between them. Genealogy, in this sense, operates analogously to ancient skeptical practices, particularly those attributed to figures such as Democritus, who regarded moral claims from a critical and detached standpoint [60]. The therapeutic aim is to liberate readers from the existential distress caused by internalizing moral ideals—such as guilt as divine punishment—by teaching them to treat such beliefs with suspicion and, ultimately, with ironic detachment.

Another interpretation within the ironic camp conceptualizes genealogy as parasitic upon the traditional moral narratives it seeks to undermine. On this model, genealogies derive their critical force by drawing on the epistemic and psychological authority of the dominant discourse, which they aim to discredit [61,62,63,64,65]. By analogy, just as a parasite draws the lifeblood from its host, weakening it, so too does genealogy undermine the credibility of inherited moral beliefs by exposing their historical contingency.

However, this version of the irony defense is internally inconsistent. If genealogical critique lacks any claim to truth or justification, per se, as some versions of the ironic defense hold, then it is unclear how it can effectively challenge the normative authority of the dominant narrative. The parasite metaphor breaks down: whereas the biological parasite clearly causes the host’s debilitation, the causal mechanism by which genealogy undercuts belief, under the ironic model, remains obscure if all discourses are merely the reflections and outcomes of competing power struggles. For example, if Nietzsche’s genealogical history of Good and Evil in Book I of the Genealogy is simply a repudiation of slave values predicated on an explanation that takes “givens” the Christian would not accept (e.g., honoring one’s enemies, self-glorification, a pathos of distance, and the need for rank), then it is hard to see how a narrative that exalted these values would undermine the credibility of the Christian’s worldview.

In any case, the curative function of genealogy in this model parallels Thomas Nagel’s account of the absurd: after genealogical critique, we may return to traditional moral narratives, but with a transformed perspective—no longer believing in them uncritically, but viewing them with a kind of ironic detachment [66]. Genealogy does not necessarily displace these narratives; rather, it repositions them within a broader horizon of suspicion and historicized understanding.

The advantages of this position are considerable. It avoids the metaphysical commitments of ideology critique and instead emphasizes the genealogical focus on historicity and contingency. Yet, it also entails significant costs: it forgoes any appeal to normative criteria external to the cultural frameworks it interrogates. Whether this trade-off is sustainable remains a central question in the ongoing reception of Nietzschean and Foucauldian genealogical methods.

10. Model 3: The Pragmatic/Practical (For an Extended Treatment of Williams, See [19])

Pragmatic styles of genealogy are a form of conceptual reverse engineering; they seek to demonstrate how a complex idea, such as truth, emerged from a social need. Queloz sums up this view succinctly when he writes the following: “My concern, by contrast, is with the practical origins of ideas: with the ways in which the ideas we live by can be shown to be rooted in practical needs and concerns generated by facts about us and our situation” [43] (p. 2).

This model of genealogy is perhaps the most difficult to grasp of the five I examine. Accordingly, I will begin by outlining its three key features before turning to a concrete example of a pragmatic genealogical undertaking. For this purpose, I examine Hobbes’ Leviathan.

According to some philosophers, such as Bernard Williams, Hobbes’s Leviathan is a paradigmatic example of pragmatic genealogy [41]. Pragmatic genealogies, at least according to Bernard Williams, have three key features: (1) a genealogy offers a functional account for the emergence of a novel cultural form; (2) it is underwritten by a hypothetical State of Nature narrative; and (3) both the imagined agents in the State of Nature and the audience interpreting the genealogy are rational, enabling the reader to comprehend and evaluate the agents’ actions and motivations. This final element is especially significant, as it links the explanatory and normative dimensions of genealogy: our ability to understand the behavior of these “primitive” agents gives us the epistemic authority to either vindicate or critique the resulting cultural practices.

An Example of Pragmatic Genealogy: Hobbes (For an Extended Discussion of Hobbes on This Point, See [19])

To elucidate the three aforementioned features, it is instructive at this juncture to examine Thomas Hobbes’s functional account of society, as articulated in his seminal work, Leviathan. A Socratic approach to defining community might initially conceive of civilization as an aggregate of individuals motivated by self-interest who interact freely and voluntarily in pursuit of those interests. While such a conceptual framework offers an intuitive understanding of sociality, it is ultimately insufficient. It fails to account for the structural conditions that render these interactions both possible and productive. Specifically, this framework overlooks a critical question: What social, political, and economic arrangements must exist to facilitate uncoerced and mutually advantageous interaction [19]

A purely conceptual analysis lacks the explanatory power to address the causal mechanisms that structure and direct human behavior. An adequate definition of society must, at a minimum, account for the ordering principles that enable the consistent and predictable pursuit of individual interests. Furthermore, there is a deeper problem with this conceptual approach: it presupposes a robust conception of agency. It assumes individuals are wholly self-interested, that they possess a coherent understanding of those interests, and—crucially—that such interests emerge independently of the social structures under investigation. This presumption invites scrutiny. It demands an account of how self-interests are themselves constituted [19].

Suppose, for instance, one was tasked with offering an account of the origins of society. It would be inadequate to begin with a model that already presumes the existence of organizational structures that facilitate the pursuit of interests. Such an approach would be circular, as it assumes precisely what it seeks to explain. Any plausible account must be intelligible and justifiable to hypothetical pre-social agents, who must see social cooperation as aligning with their own reasons. Either this justificatory process continues ad infinitum, or it terminates in a foundational rationale for rational self-interest as such. Either choice is to be avoided: foundational rational self-interest presents genealogy as a species of reductionism; at bottom, a genealogy simply delineates fundamental aspects of our collective humanity. While the second choice is also lamentable in that genealogy has no ending [19].

Hobbes, for his part, avoids both conceptual and reductive explanatory models. In Chapter XIII of Leviathan, he offers a functional and operational account of society’s emergence. He famously writes the following:

“Hereby it is manifest, that during the time men live without a common power to keep them all in awe, they are in that condition which is called war; and such war as is of every man, against every man… For WAR consisteth not in battle only, or the act of fighting; but in a tract of time, wherein the will to contend by battle is sufficiently known…”

[44] (p. 100)

For Hobbes, the state of war is not merely a condition of active conflict but an ongoing and indeterminate period during which individuals cannot be assured of peace. In such a context, the basic preconditions for civil society—industry, agriculture, trade, the arts, and even the passage of time—are absent. He elaborates with the following:

“In such condition there is no place for industry; because the fruit thereof is uncertain: and consequently no culture of the earth; no navigation, nor use of the commodities that may be imported by sea; no commodious building… no society, and, which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of violent death, and the life of man solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short”

[44] (p. 100)

Accordingly, for Hobbes, the pursuit of self-interest becomes feasible only under the auspices of a sovereign authority—an entity empowered to legislate and enforce laws. It is this sovereign power that transforms the chaos of the State of Nature into an ordered society. The choice between living in the State of Nature, as identified by Hobbes, and living under the rule of a sovereign with absolute power, could not be any more obvious: the latter choice is by far preferable. The indubitability regarding the correctness of this choice is crucial, however, as it demonstrates firstly the enormous normative power of pragmatic genealogy in that the outcome of the thought-experiment justifies, at least for Hobbes, the political structure of society in his day. Secondly, the choice is obviously correct for two different subjects: it is evident, according to the limited understanding of the imaginary simple subjects in our thought experiment, who are merely motivated by self-interest, and for us, the sophisticated readers of Leviathan.

This last point is especially significant according to Williams, who notes that Hobbes’s model attributes only a minimal form of rationality to individuals in the State of Nature. Importantly, it does not assume their motivations are already shaped by purposive or reflective thought. Rather, as Williams writes the following:

“…because it represents as functional a concept, reason, motivation, or other aspect of human thought and behaviour, where that item was perhaps not previously seen as functional; the explanation of the function is unmysterious, because in particular it does not appeal to intentions or deliberations or (in this respect) already purposive thought; and the motivations that are invoked in the explanation are ones that are agreed to exist anyway”

[41] (p. 24)

In other words, Hobbes’s account remains parsimonious: it does not over-ascribe rational capacities to agents, nor does it posit complex social instincts. Instead, it begins from a minimal anthropology grounded in fear—most notably, the fear of death. Hobbes succinctly expresses this point: what individuals most fear are “Death and wounds” [44] (p. 81). Faced with the unpredictability and violence of the State of Nature, rational agents are compelled to trade selected liberties for personal security. This contractual exchange is not a product of evolved sociability or cultural sophistication but a logical consequence of self-preservation.

Hobbes’s functionalism accomplishes the three central aims Williams addressed above in defining pragmatic genealogies: (1) it explains the necessary conditions under which individuals can pursue their interests. It, therefore, provides a functional account of what a society needs before it can even be called a society—a novel cultural form. (2) It provides a convincing State of Nature thought experiment underpinned by our fear of death and wounds to support these minimal needs; and (3) it legitimizes the political structures required to sustain such pursuits. Both the individuals in the State of Nature and we, the readers of Hobbes’s Leviathan, are motivated to support Hobbes’s conclusion regarding the need for a sovereign with absolute power. The more complex and socially embedded self-interests—such as the pursuit of wealth, recognition, or professional advancement—are only realizable within a secure and ordered social context. Without a sovereign capable of ensuring security and punishing transgressors, such interests are unattainable.

In sum, Hobbes’s functional account provides a powerful explanatory model for the emergence of social order. It circumvents both conceptual abstraction and biological reductionism, and instead offers a genealogy of society that begins with minimal assumptions and proceeds through a rational logic of self-interest and fear. Although Hobbes’s own genealogy relies on a State of Nature story, it, nevertheless, is underpinned by physiological ‘givens’ much like the genealogies mentioned above. These are the following: our mortal and fragile bodies, and our primal self-interest to preserve our bodies in the face of violence and other threats.

11. Model 4: Deconstructive Genealogy (Derrida and Prescott-Couch)

Prescott-Couch, in a recent article titled “Nietzsche and the Significance of Genealogy,” proposes a new way of reading Nietzsche’s Genealogy and, therefore, offers a new model of genealogy per se. Prescott-Couch refers to this model as “deconstructive genealogy.” To elucidate this model, the author will first analyze the term ‘deconstruction’ before demonstrating its application in genealogy.

Deconstruction is a way of reading texts and concepts that exposes internal contradictions, hidden assumptions, and tensions. Derrida demonstrated that concepts such as presence and absence, speech and writing, or identity and difference constitute unstable binary oppositions, where one side is privileged over the other [67,68]. In addition, not only is it the case that a sentence, paragraph, or an entire work can always be placed within a larger context, thereby altering the meaning of the text as a whole (e.g., “there is nothing outside the text”), but there are also different and sometimes competing voices, attitudes, and positions contained within any work of philosophy, literature, or art.

With the above all-too-brief summary of deconstruction, Prescott-Couch demonstrates how we can translate this idea into a genealogical key. Perhaps the best articulation of this view comes from Prescott-Couch himself:

“What I want to focus on is a concern…that the attitudes and activities grouped together under the concept of ‘morality’ do not possess the requisite coherence or unity to be theorized as a whole. That is, a lack of historical sense has made philosophers insensitive to important kinds of heterogeneity and conflict within moral practice. History can both indicate where such heterogeneity and conflict are to be found and provide an explanation of them, an explanation that suggests reconciling conflicting elements will be impossible. The author will label genealogy of this kind ‘deconstructive genealogy’”

[69] (p. 630)

As a method, deconstructive genealogy critically traces the historical development of concepts while also unpacking the hidden assumptions, exclusions, and contradictions in how those concepts are framed and maintained. It demonstrates the historicity of concepts (such as justice, identity, gender, and truth) to show that they have no stable essence. It achieves this by deconstructing the way these concepts are organized—revealing how they depend on what they negate or marginalize. In performing in this way, it undermines metaphysical foundations, such as the belief in objective truth, stable meaning, or essential identities.

A very clear example of explaining how deconstructive genealogy works comes from the author himself: the spirit of Christmas. Some may claim that there is a tangible feeling associated with Christmas, such that there is an increased sense of goodwill towards one’s fellow human beings, a magical feeling of hope, generosity, and altruism. Indeed, the feeling has even been empirically studied [70]. Such a feeling lends itself to a deconstructive approach, as the author demonstrates that Christmas itself is a motley assemblage of prior, disparate, and (sometimes contradictory) cultural traditions and practices. Prescott-Couch writes the following:

“For instance, Christmas trees derive from pagan winter festivals, holiday wreaths from ancient Rome, American Santa Claus from the Dutch Sinterklaas and British Father Christmas, Knecht Ruprecht from German folklore, and the focus on gift-buying from recent trends in consumer culture. Moreover, not only are there distinct strands coming together to form the practice, but there is continual reinterpretation of the practice as a whole: a festival to mark the winter solstice is reinterpreted as a Christian community festival, which is reinterpreted as an opportunity for communal debauchery, which is reinterpreted as a family-friendly holiday focused on helping one’s neighbour, which is reinterpreted as a frenetic shopping extravaganza”

[69] (p. 634)

The deconstructive genealogy would then examine the structural underpinnings of the aforementioned different beliefs, feelings, and cultural practices in more detail. The genealogy would presumably demonstrate that Christmas [as a historical tapestry consisting of divergent, disparate, and contradictory threads (e.g., Roman Holiday wreaths used to celebrate the pagan Saturnalia holiday)] is unstable and built up over time from incongruous materials. In demonstrating the contingency and, most importantly, the disparity of the individual components that underpin the platforming of Christmas as a notion and practice, notably its instability and arbitrariness, one begins to question the notion of Christmas as a whole, perhaps leading to a dampening of and eventual rejection of feelings (see [70]) associated with the Christmas spirit.

12. Model 5: Implexic Genealogy: Vertical and Horizontal Dimensions of Historical Emergence (For Two Different Genealogical Analyses Employing the Implexic Model, See [71,72])

Implexic genealogy, in its most concise formulation, is best understood through an analogy with ancestral genealogy. The model draws on the term implex, which denotes an “enfolding.” In a zoological context, it refers to the point at which muscles attach to the integument of an arthropod. Transposing this zoological definition in a philosophical key, this approach conceptualizes genealogical inquiry as the intersection of vertical and horizontal lines, akin to the structure of a family tree. Connecting these points, implexic genealogy examines how vertical and horizontal lines have become enfolded over time and attempts to separate these lines from one another.

The vertical dimension refers to lines of descent—causal antecedents that precede and condition the formation of the phenomenon under investigation. These may include genetic, epigenetic, physiological, and environmental conditions. For instance, tracing my familial ancestry reveals a direct genetic connection to my grandfather. Had he perished in World War I or not been born, my existence would not have been possible [71].

Similarly, in philosophical genealogical analysis, these vertical lines represent the causal matrix without which the phenomenon could not have emerged. They are natural kinds of objects that, when they intersect, form causal pathways generating historical novelty [72]. For example, if we take Nietzsche’s account of the formation of the first political states seriously, then the intersection of walls, the various forms of torture that would be imposed on early human beings who attempted to climb said walls, and the innate animal instincts of what Nietzsche calls these “semi-animals” produced something new: the ‘inpsychation’ of the human animal. (Nietzsche, GM II 17). According to Nietzsche, the natural instincts for hunting, war, sex, and adventure turned inward in these creatures, creating a ‘bad conscience’ as a result of these powerful somatic drives being blocked by external means (GM II 16–17). This is analogous to how the genetic material of two unrelated individuals combines to form a new individual through reproduction, introducing new characteristics into the lineage. In this respect, genealogy examines the causes that gave rise to new historical phenomena.

However, it is important to distinguish that these causal conditions are not immutable natural kinds. They may change depending on how, and with what, they interact. Return to Nietzsche’s explanation for the emergence of bad conscience—initially a feeling of psychic anguish that presumably would be felt when early human beings wished to escape from the “straight-jacket” of civilization but refrained from doing so because of the grizzly tortures (GM II 3–5) they would suffer (GM II 16–17). In keeping with genealogy’s radical contingency, walls, torture (minimally construed here as the infliction of pain), and the human–animal body are natural kinds of things that are subject to distinct physical laws [73] (pp. 3–4). However, their intersection is entirely contingent; it just so happened that peaceful groups of human beings encountered a war-like tribe that sought to establish a political state comprising many such conquered peoples [54]. The intersection of these three natural kinds of things created something new—the human being—with its own set of natural properties (e.g., drives) and, according to some interpretations, subject to an entirely new law (e.g., will to power) (There are many different readings of will to power in the literature. For the purpose of this paper, the author will limit these to two: those that take will to power to have universal scope (i.e., it applies to both the cosmic and biological orders of reality) and those that assume will to power to have only a human application (i.e., it is a psychological law applicable to humans only). For universal interpretations, see [74,75]. For restricted (psychological models) see [76,77,78,79]). Implexic genealogy is not so much concerned about the study of these natural kinds of things in themselves; rather, it is interested in their dynamic interplay (For novel examples of implexic genealogical applications see [71,72]).

There is a second aspect to an implexic genealogical inquiry that enables it to avoid crude, reductive naturalism. The second dimension of implexic genealogy concerns the horizontal lines within the genealogical structure. In familial genealogy, these lines denote the union—often through marriage—of two separate family lines. The intersection of two vertical trajectories creates a new node, from which subsequent lines of descent emerge. Consider that when individuals recount their ancestry, they often elaborate not only on lines of descent but also on the particular circumstances of marital relationships. These accounts are necessarily perspectival; the selection and interpretation of facts are shaped by the interests and position of the one recounting them.

Analogously, in implexic genealogy, horizontal lines represent the interpretive narratives constructed to account for the significance of the convergence of two or more natural kind precursors. Such narratives are inherently underdetermined—alternative explanations may just as plausibly account for the emergence of the object of study or, indeed, deny entirely its importance. The genealogical narrative is concerned with the meaning we derive from the intersection of two or more lines of descent.

It is this focus on the meaning of the intersection of these vertical lines that serves a curative function: by providing alternative perspectives, a genealogy disrupts the dominance of a singular explanatory frame. It allows for a reconfiguration of how phenomena are understood. In other words, the meaning of our beliefs, values, attitudes, and feelings changes; a genealogy reveals they are capable of being transformed, even transcended [71,72]. Implexic genealogy traces the dynamic interplay between intersecting prior causal conditions, as the phenomena produced by such interactions helped shape who we are.

13. Critiques of Genealogy: The Genetic Fallacy

Genealogy has been the subject of various criticisms in the secondary literature. Some, like Habermas, believe that by the genealogist’s own lights, their alternative stories to the traditional account for the emergence of a particular phenomenon are nothing more than hypothesis-mongering stories that “count no more and no less” than that of any other explanation for the phenomenon under investigation [9] (p. 281). This article has put this somewhat antiquated criticism to rest. There is one particular critique of genealogy, however, that I do think warrants attention: the genetic fallacy. The author will explain what the genetic fallacy is, how it applies to genealogy and Nietzsche’s claims in particular, and provide arguments to blunt its force.

Morris Cohen and Ernest Nagel coined the term “genetic fallacy” in their work, Logic and Scientific Method [80]. According to Alvin Goldman, the genetic fallacy is committed when one confuses, “the causal origins of a belief with its justification” [81] (p. 306). In other words, one takes the origins of a belief as the primary criterion to consider regarding the belief’s justificatory merit. Instead, it is argued that one should seek to assess the claim (and the reasons used to support the belief) on its terms [81]. For example, suppose the chief of police in a small town requests the hiring of additional police officers because, according to the data he has collected, there has been a significant increase in crime. If one dismissed his argument out of hand by suggesting he has a vested interest in expanding the police department (perhaps because he could offload some of his duties to others), one would be guilty of committing the genetic fallacy because one is not assessing the reasons for his claim. Instead, one is merely looking at the source of the reasons for the claim and not the reasons themselves.

Some scholars sympathetic to Nietzsche have charged the German philosopher with committing the genetic fallacy, as it appears, at least at first glance, that Nietzsche’s genealogy of morality, in particular, does not examine the reasons that undergird moral claims but rather attempts to dismiss them by examining their psychological origins. Clark and Dudrick, for example, argue that, “If Nietzsche is criticizing philosophers’ views on the basis of their origins, then he confuses the order of discovery with the order of justification, thereby committing a version of the genetic fallacy” [82] (p. 67). The argument is made against a claim Nietzsche makes in BGE 5, where he suggests that a philosopher’s argument for his belief is really motivated by an unconscious “desire of their heart” peculiar to that philosopher’s particular psychological organization of primal drives [29] (BGE, 5,). On the Genealogy of Morals could be considered an extended development of the aphorisms of Beyond Good and Evil, and, therefore, the genealogical work could be viewed as an elaborate example of the genetic fallacy writ large.

There are several responses one could make to this challenge. One suggestion, offered by Brian Leiter, proposes that Nietzsche’s critique of morality, which he developed by examining its origins, had beneficial effects. If Nietzsche believes that Christian morality is self-stultifying, then any method for convincing his readers to challenge and throw off their Christian beliefs would be warranted. Leiter writes, “Nietzsche has no reason to disown fallacious forms of reasoning [such as the genetic fallacy] as long as they are rhetorically effective” [51] (p. 176).

This response may seem unsatisfactory at first glance. Thankfully, more sophisticated approaches to addressing the genetic fallacy objection are presented in Goldman’s entry. As Goldman sees it, the justification for a belief cannot be answered without considering the origin of the belief. Naturalized epistemology frames this question as follows: “The J question cannot be answered independently of the O question [83] (p. 92).” Goldman, as a reliabilist, argues that one can only answer the justification question by examining the reliability of our belief-forming processes [81]. Accordingly, what Nietzsche puts into question is the psychological capacity, namely guilt, that 19th-century moralists often used to justify our moral obligations to others. If Nietzsche can put that entire belief-forming capability into question by convincing his readers to think more carefully about how that very faculty came about and provide an alternative genealogy of the emergence of that capacity that does not rely on supernatural suppositions but on naturalistic and, therefore, empirically testable hypotheses, then is it at least supposable that some forms of morality might lose their warrantability.

A second argument to support the critical examination of sources of information is offered by Goldman once again in his brief entry. Consider that the testimony of others is, inarguably, an integral and significant source for the formation of many of our beliefs. However, “…assuming the implausibility of declaring fallacious all such belief formation, it evidently matters whether a believer’s testimonial sources satisfy appropriate conditions on reliability” [72] (p. 307). Goldman’s point is that it is a matter of good epistemic practice, especially in matters regarding the testimony of others, to question both the source of a claim and the reasons that support the claim in question. Here, we can transfer the thrust of this point into a genealogical key: the true reasons for claims made by moralists are often unknown to them; they mistakenly believe, Nietzsche thinks, that their moral codes are a priori claims when, in fact, they are filtered versions of unconscious drives. Nietzsche does not expect his readers to accept his intuitive suspicions about morality without evidence; for this reason, he provides a genealogical account that demonstrates how his alternative hypothesis is feasible.

Upon considering these arguments, the full force of the genetic argument is considerably diminished.

14. Conclusions

This entry examined the main aspects of philosophical genealogy by comparing and contrasting them with those of family genealogy. It clarified the principal types of genealogical methods in the literature and noted some of the issues with these versions. Finally, the entry concluded by examining the genetic fallacy, a criticism that, according to some, undermines the justification of a genealogical inquiry. The entry showed that genealogies can side-step this criticism.