Contributory justice and the moral account that merit does not pay
This is the heart of contributory justice: the ability to respond to the "fundamental human desire to be needed by those with whom we share a life in common".
by Vittorio Pelligra*.
7' min read
Key points
7' min read
In a context such as ours marked by growing inequalities and increasingly polarising political rancour, the debate on meritocracy and its rhetoric can no longer be just an academic question, because it represents the beating heart of a social divide that is eroding the stability and cohesion of our democracies from within.
Michael Sandel explained this lucidly and clearly in his bookThe Tyranny of Merit (Feltrinelli, 2020): 'The more we think we are self-made,' Sandel writes, 'the more difficult it becomes to learn gratitude and humility. And without these feelings, it is difficult to care for the common good'. The rhetoric of merit marks a crossroads where the worlds of school and university, business and labour, politics and the very role of markets meet.
A double face
.Meritocratic culture, Sandel writes, has a double face. On the one hand, it promises fairness - anyone can make it, as long as they put in the effort - and on the other, it turns economic success into an indicator of moral worth. Having succeeded does not only indicate that one has more but also that one is worth more. "Those at the top congratulate themselves that they have deserved their fate, just as they are convinced that those at the bottom have deserved theirs," writes the Harvard philosopher. And this belief breeds arrogance in the winners, who see their success as entirely self-made, and humiliation in the losers, who internalise their failure as a fault.
The narrative of 'if you try, you succeed' is thus transformed into a moral imperative that ignores starting conditions, inherited privileges, and even the role of luck. This is what politics does when it insists on the role of merit and keeps repeating 'if you try, you succeed'. From Obama to Giorgia Meloni, paradoxically the message is the same. And it is a message that promotes an ideology of individual responsibility that is ambiguous and dangerous because it morally justifies growing inequality and exempts politics from the duty to remedy it.
And this is why Sandel tries to overturn the narrative of social mobility. He does not contest that merit is important, but denounces the way in which the meritocratic system ends up fuelling the 'hubris of the winners' and the humiliation of those left behind. It is the dark face of meritocracy, where personal success becomes a measure of one's moral worth, and failure, individual guilt. Economic success or failure and social prestige become the only measure of moral worth. Then the pandemic arrives and rips the veil off this rhetoric: the essential workers are the nurses, cashiers, diver and other logistics workers who get us the necessities home. They are the most exposed and necessary workers. But the market does not reward them because they are as necessary as they are underpaid, socially debased precarious workers. The reason lies in the fact that, as Sandel points out, 'In a market society, it is difficult to resist the tendency to confuse the money we make with the value of our contribution to the common good.



