It is worse to be sexist than to be wrong

When a philosopher is accused of holding sexist views, they might respond by asking whether their view remains true, regardless of the accusation. This response, however, mixes up different kinds of norms. From a scientific standpoint, there may be many interesting questions about differences between men and women. Politically, though, it is worse to be sexist than to be wrong. Even if certain sexist views turn out to be true, a philosopher who publicly endorses them is thereby a bad citizen.

One might object that, since human beings are essentially rational animals, being a good person primarily means being a good philosopher rather than a good citizen. Even someone with a different conception of goodness may, after all, admit that, if someone is a good person but a bad citizen, the blame lies more with society than with the person. This view aligns with how we judge ancient Athens, which condemned Socrates for seeking truth: we typically say Athens was a bad society, not that Socrates was a bad man.

In reply to this objection, we should distinguish the idea of being a good philosopher in general from that of being a good philosopher in public. In general, a good philosopher actively seeks and accepts all truths. A good public philosopher, however, goes further by sharing those truths openly. Such openness can make someone a bad citizen if these truths harm political life. Yet being a good philosopher does not require announcing every conclusion to everyone. Inquiry requires public discussion, sure, but one can discuss how evidence supports a conclusion without going further and defending a conclusion absolutely.

Moreover, purely philosophical norms may not be enough to sustain even a community of philosophers, in the long run. Some limits on free expression might be necessary to protect the conditions needed for genuine inquiry. For instance, if openly sexist remarks become too frequent, they could lead society to impose barriers that hinder women from participating in discussions, thereby weakening the pursuit of truth. Likewise, a philosopher might present a valid argument but do so in bad faith. This does not make the argument’s conclusion itself untrue—rejecting it for that reason alone would commit the genetic fallacy—but bad faith still exposes the philosopher as a bad citizen. Like fraud, bad faith can destabilize a community, making it too dysfunctional for serious philosophical work.

Finally, we value truth because it makes the world intelligible, allowing rational beings to understand it. When a community descends into strife through the reckless proclamation of harmful truths, it becomes less intelligible, obstructing knowledge. Thus, if someone insists on publicly stating all their conclusions in a way that disrupts civic life, they may ultimately hinder rather than serve the pursuit of truth—and thereby become, in the objector’s own sense, a bad person after all.