By Ashlyn N. Ramirez
“Justice is possible without a knowledge of God’s Law.” — Alasdair MacIntyre
“Struggles for recognition occur in a world of exacerbated material inequality.” — Nancy Fraser
We like to think justice is simple. Fair. Earned. But what if the systems we rely on to define justice were never built for everyone in the first place?
In my studies, I found myself pulled between two powerful voices: Alasdair MacIntyre and Nancy Fraser. They don’t write textbooks. They write blueprints for understanding who gets to decide what’s fair—and who’s left out.
MacIntyre speaks in traditions. He says justice is shaped by culture, by religion, by inherited values. Justice, for him, isn’t universal—it’s rooted in communities shaped by Puritanism, Catholicism, and Judaism. If those are the traditions you’re part of, maybe his logic feels familiar. But for others, it can feel exclusive. It left me wondering: if your history isn’t part of those narratives, do you still get to belong?
Fraser, on the other hand, meets us in the present. She writes about what we can see: food insecurity, health gaps, systemic racism, and gender-based violence. Her lens is urgent, intersectional, and sharp. She says it’s not enough to redistribute wealth—you must also recognize identity. You can’t discuss equality without addressing visibility.
When Tradition Doesn’t See You
MacIntyre’s work made me pause. He believes we inherit rationality through community. That truth is shaped by tradition. The liberal media and secular politics have lost sight of deeper values. He’s not entirely wrong.
However, I don’t come from the traditions he centers on. And I don’t believe justice should be reserved only for people who follow a specific moral lineage. Justice, to me, can’t be something you earn through inheritance. It has to be something we build—together.
Irene Chu calls MacIntyre’s logic deeply institutional. He’s focused on structure. On moral blueprints. But I kept asking myself: what about people who are navigating systems that were never made with them in mind?
Seeing Ourselves in the Struggle
Fraser is different. She calls out material inequality—not just in paycheck size, but in access to healthcare, housing, and even clean air. Her work hit home. As someone who has lived through environmental racism and felt the physical cost of inequality, her ideas weren’t just theory. They were familiar.
Fraser argues for two kinds of justice: redistribution (who gets what) and recognition (who gets seen). She says you can’t have one without the other. Pride parades, she notes, aren’t just celebrations—they’re statements. Visibility is political.
She also doesn’t let systems off the hook. Fraser is critical of neoliberalism, identity tokenism, and top-down reform. She’s grounded in feminist theory and understands that structural change requires cultural and symbolic transformation too.
Where They Meet—and Where They Don’t
Both MacIntyre and Fraser believe justice isn’t working. But their solutions come from different places. One looks to the past; the other looks to systems and structures that still dominate the present.
They both criticize liberalism’s failures. Both challenge how Enlightenment ideals left out too many people. But only one of them, in my opinion, shows a path forward that includes all of us.
MacIntyre invites us to consider what we inherit. Fraser challenges us to change what we’ve normalized.
Why It Matters to Me
As a doctoral student researching the digital divide, I witness these frameworks being played out every day. Some students never had access to laptops or high-speed internet. That’s not just a tech issue—it’s a justice issue. Fraser’s lens helps me see that clearly.
But I also understand how culture shapes belief. That’s MacIntyre’s territory. Why some still resist digital learning. Why access isn’t just about money, but mindset.
Ultimately, both theorists provide tools. Fraser equips me to fight for equity. MacIntyre reminds me that beliefs are inherited—and that means they can be challenged.
Justice Isn’t Neutral. It’s Personal.
I’ve spent years trying to understand why justice seems so distant for some and so readily assumed for others. This journey through MacIntyre and Fraser didn’t provide me with a single perfect answer. But it gave me a better question:
Whose justice? Which rationality?
I think we’re all still trying to figure that out.
Ashlyn N. Ramirez is a doctoral candidate, writer, and researcher who explores media, identity, and access in the digital age.
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