That this volume was necessary to compile is something of an embarrassment to sociologists and classical liberals alike. As a classical liberal, I think it is fair to say we ought to be a little embarrassed of our non-engagement with sociology. Though I am not a sociologist, much of my work is variously inspired by, in conversation with, or otherwise informed by sociological work, so I hope sociologists will not misunderstand me. Far from denigrating their discipline, I hope for more conversation with their informative work. The idea of a political philosophy not engaging with a science gives the impression of a naïve and ill-informed understanding of what is good for human beings. Is classical liberalism mere wishful thinking? An unmoored fantasy dressed up as a serious proposal? The idea of a science that fails to have anything to say to a political perspective brings into question the objectivity (and therefore soundness) of the science. Is sociology an ideological screed? A political movement dressed up as a science? Rojas and Stern answer that neither must nor should be so denigrated. Rather, they argue their volume presents the “diversity and dynamism” (p. 213) that is possible when these perspectives meet. I concur. Rojas and Stern, as well as their contributors, have done a service to both of the groups they wish to engage. This volume demonstrates both the relevance of sociology for defending classical liberalism and the relevance of classical liberal values for posing interesting questions in sociological inquiry.

The editors’ introductory chapter points out that classical liberalism has long been tied to economics. It has been shaped in rhetoric and priorities by the mindset of economists. It hardly need be mentioned that many of the most celebrated advocates for liberal politics (Adam Smith, Frédéric Bastiat, Friedrich Hayek . . .) have been economists. However, many liberal advocates of their day (Herbert Spencer, William Graham Sumner, Max Weber, Alexis de Tocqueville . . .) are primarily known today for their contributions to sociology. In more recent decades, the editors of this volume contend, sociologists have become almost uniformly uninterested in questions driven by classical liberal concerns. Thus, a defense of classical liberal sociology must be mounted on two fronts: for the relevance of sociology to a political ideology already shaped by a neighboring social science, and for the worthiness of studying issues primarily of concern to those whose values differ from most sociologists today.

The first contributors’ chapter covers well-known territory to those familiar with the economic case for liberalism. John Iceland and Eric Silver make the case that although inequality is a commonplace under liberal economic regimes, economic liberalism has reduced the rate and severity of poverty in those countries that have adopted it. Compellingly, they argue that sociologists have overlooked this because of the widespread adoption of the approaches known as conflict theory. Attention to rivalry among socioeconomic groups, though a worthy direction of inquiry, has detracted from sociologists’ recognition of these gains. Some fear that recognizing them might irresponsibly contribute to the demise of efforts to aid the poor. Iceland and Silver ably make the case that must be made again and again: liberalism has massively raised the absolute wellbeing of the worst off in society irrespective of its effect on inequality.

Chapter 2, by Fabio Rojas, asks “If modern societies depend so much on the exploitation of minorities, then how is it possible that any improvement is possible?” (p. 49). This is no “gotcha” question to get sociologists to give up their notion of significant racial inequality in many contemporary societies. Rather, he contends that the “creation of excess wealth; freedom of speech and assembly; and the freedom of exit and movement” (p. 52) all enable minorities to bring about greater equality. These are prized objectives and norms among classical liberals, and Rojas demonstrates their relevance using the American Civil Rights movement of the twentieth century.

Brandon Rudolph Davis in chapter 3 extensively documents the contribution of the U.S. criminal justice system to the oppression of a large number of Americans. Davis contends the criminal justice system is a combination of mechanisms that establish criminogenic conditions in a pattern that is stratified by a variety of demographic factors to maintain the power of the predatory state over much of the U.S. population. I am sympathetic to his thesis. Davis marshals more than enough evidence to show that the sheer size of the carceral state, in addition to its unequal impact, is manifestly unjust. However, I am not sure he succeeds in making his case. It might be that the carceral state is a predatory state’s tool of social control, but it might also be an unintended consequence of a society’s illiberal impulse to punish wrongdoers rather than rectify harms, along with various bigotries on the part of the U.S. voting public. Perhaps these are not mutually exclusive explanations.

Next, Charlotta Stern contributes a fascinating chapter arguing that sociologists have overlooked an explanation of unequal labor market outcomes between men and women: men and women might be different. Of course, sociologists recognize there are induced differences between the genders, but Stern argues a widespread assumption of what she calls “left feminism” among sociologists has led to the assumption that any measurable gender difference in labor market outcomes is caused by culture and oppression, not individual preferences or behaviors. She argues that a sociological understanding of gender informed by “classical liberal feminism” is better situated to understand societies like Sweden where even though “traditional gender-role socialization and anti-female discrimination have withered, sex segregation in the labor market has not” (p. 96). Furthermore, classical liberal feminism can draw attention to questions that left-feminism, with its focus on “slim-outcome differences” (p. 90), does not, like whether part of the gender pay gap might be driven by differential productivity at work, not cultural celebration of men as breadwinners and denigration of women as unserious about careers (p. 99). I will add that not regarding childrearing as productive is at odds with any sustainable society, even if this is not a form of productivity which results in higher wages. In this regard, a classical liberal feminism seems more respectful of roles women have historically occupied, even though this was for many but not all women against their will to a significant extent.

In chapter 5, those familiar with the Austrian tradition of economics will be pleased to see Lauren Hall demonstrate its utility in sociological study of healthcare. She presents “regulatory capture, competition, entrepreneurial discovery, and dispersed knowledge” (p. 113, emphasis in original) as key concepts for understanding perverse regulations that deprive vulnerable groups of needed healthcare services while privileged groups benefit. She puts forward a laudable “ecosystem approach” (p. 124) to healthcare policy where every policy change should be evaluated by inter alia asking what the change will crowd out.

Mikayla Novak contributes chapter 6, arguing that classical liberals can gain from sociologists by engaging with social movement studies. Here, we can especially see why this book should embarrass classical liberals to some extent. Has a movement fascinated by bottom-up social change really failed to study how social movements succeed? I am glad Novak is raising attention to this oversight. She leverages the insights of the Virginia, Austrian, and Bloomington schools of political economy to understand social movements, in the process undercutting classical liberal concerns that mass movements may be mere populism or rent seeking and showing sociologists that classical liberalism’s “processual, and open-ended, perspective” (p. 146) is no mere defense of dominant social groups’ position.

Chapter 7, “Freedom in Economic Sociology” by Patrik Aspers, compares different notions of freedom, drawing from scholars as varied as Harrison White, a scholar of market structures, and Martin Heidegger, an existentialist philosopher. Aspers’s central point is that social conditioning, the collection of cultural and socio-structural phenomena that affect human behavior, is both enabling and constraining. Although this is liable to rekindle tired debates about positive and negative freedom, he makes an important point that the expression of freedom is not solely a formal legal matter but also a matter of how one conceives of what one can do. I only hope this does not indicate that some scholars still believe classical liberals do not consider how social phenomena affect individual decision-making.

Unfortunately, I found chapter 8 disappointing. It promises to explain how neoliberalism and populism have twisted classical liberalism, leading to “a neo-feudalism of privilege and authoritarian governance” (p. 176). It proposes that a failure to have appropriate degrees of “limits on free markets,” “enforcement of economic equality,” and “power of democratic governments” (p. 178) made classical liberalism unsustainable. To reverse this problem, we are told we need some form of decentralized, “perhaps state-by-state” (p. 190) means to reduce inequality, restore economic mobility, make the public information environment (especially social media and artificial intelligence) prioritize truth, ensure the checks between branches of government are effective, and more. While many of these are laudable, the suggested means by which this be accomplished include raising the minimum wage, regulating those who provide information to the public (again, here social media and AI companies seem to be the concern) holding them to a strict standard of liability, or even using anti-trust measures against them. The list of proposals “resembles the reforms made by Franklin Delano Roosevelt” (p. 191). If this is classical liberalism, I do not believe I am a classical liberal.

Furthermore, I am skeptical of much of the history presented in chapter 8. The explanation of inflation in the 1970s does not mention monetary policy. The end of the Great Moderation, which lasted from the mid-1980s to sometime in the 2000s, is attributed to the “deregulation and globalization” (p. 182) of the Reagan and Thatcher era, notably a feature of the 1970s and ’80s, and their embrace on the left in the 1990s. The final two pages are a call to action against Donald Trump (whom p. 189 incorrectly says Congress failed to impeach), complete with a comparison of Trump to Hitler. I am no fan of Trump, and the man’s commitment to democracy is transparently instrumental at best. Nonetheless, I cannot help but think this kind of political commentary in a scholarly work aids neither in showing the value of sociology to classical liberals nor of classical liberalism to sociologists.

Ilana Redstone rounds out the contributors’ chapters with a personal reflection on the role of certainty in political polarization on campus. When we feel so certain of our beliefs that we do not question them, we risk losing the ability to understand how someone might not agree with us. Her argument is compelling because of the way she makes her case: highlighting experiences wherein she herself was certain of something related to her values and therefore stopped asking questions about it. Certainty prevents us from imagining that someone from a different epistemic background might not have arrived at the same beliefs, so we are tempted to revile them, thereby ceasing to ask questions the counterparty’s beliefs might prompt us to investigate. This, Redstone argues, is the real danger of certainty. It stops us asking questions.

Sociology and Classical Liberalism in Dialogue challenges classical liberals’ certainty about having the social sciences fully incorporated. When we only engage with economics (and public choice theory, the branch of economics that studies politics), we fail to ask questions about things that matter, especially if they mostly matter to those who are not classical liberals, i.e., those whom we must convince. It should also challenge sociologists’ notions of which political programs are sufficiently sophisticated to merit their interest. When sociologists do not answer questions of special concern to classical liberals, they overlook potentially interesting nuances to the phenomena they study. The goal of a volume of this kind is always to demonstrate the worthiness of further dialogue on its subject. Though not every chapter succeeds in its chosen task, the work as a whole is a great success in the most important manner: it demonstrates the worthiness of this dialogue.