Western Political Thought: Plato

Political thought is the study of questions about power, justice, rights, law, and other issues
pertaining to governance.

Plato:
The Theory of Forms states that, while experience is changing and illusory, ideal forms are static
and real
Plato was the visionary of the dialogue and dialectic forms in philosophy, which originate with
him.
.
The Republic was collection of Plato's ideas in the field of ethics, metaphysics, philosophy and
politics
Plato (427-347) The Laws: Plato had significant contribution in the field of legal and political
science. His last and longest dialogue, the Laws is highly important. In the form of an argument
between an Athenian, a Spartan, and a Cretan, Plato outlines the "second-best" state (the "law
state") in painstaking detail.
Prof. Sabine agreed with above statement and stated that Plato's Justice is a bound which holds the
society together.
Plato was the first organized political theorist and a study of the western philosophy of tradition
begins with his masterwork, the Republic. Jowet rightly pronounced that Plato as father of
philosophy, politics and literary idealism. Plato's involvement to the western political thought is
immense. He had given it a direction, a basis and a vision. Politicl idealism is Plato's ability to
western political philosophy. He transformed novel ideas and integrated them skilfully in a
political system.

Criticism of Plato's theory:

Plato's political ideas gripped under criticism when analysing the relationship between theory and
practice:
Plato seeks constant peace and stability to stop competition in politics, economics, and other
spheres of activity. Furthermore, he seeks to create harmony through social homogenization. As
political theory's essential aim is to solve real-life problems, it must "create a common rule in a
context of differences," instead of abolishing social diversity.
Another criticism was that power is necessary to interpret knowledge into practice, and only a
stronger source of power can liberate people from the pressure of another source of power. Plato
did not present specific methods to solve this spiteful circle and made power subservient to
knowledge.
Other problematic facet of The Republic is its authoritarian political
Western Political Thought: Aristotle
In the historical trend of political philosophy, Aristotle made distinct position and contributed a
lot through his great ideas. Aristotle (b. 384 - d. 322 BCE), was a Greek philosopher, logician, and
scientist. His cataloguing of constitutions is still used in understanding constitutions relatively. He
considered political science as the master science, studied human beings in a political society
suggesting that a human being can lead an eloquent life only as a member of a state. Aristotle
described politics as a "practical science" because it deals with making citizens happy. His
philosophy is to find the supreme purpose of life, virtue as he puts it.
Aristotle was inclined to study the nature of the politics and deeply normative in his approach to
politics. He was more empirical and scientific in his technique, writing treatises instead of
dialogues and often handling his materials with considerable detachment. The result in the Politics
is a far-reaching and often penetrating treatment of political life, from the origins and purpose of
the state to the nuances of institutional arrangements. While Aristotle's comments on slavery,
women, and labourers are often uncomfortable to modern readers, his analysis of government types
(including the causes of their preservation and destruction) remains of perennial interest. His
discussion of "polity" a fusion of oligarchy and democracy, has been of particular significance in
the history of popular government. Finally, his argument that a constitution is more than a set of
political institutions, but also exemplifies a shared way of life,
The most important text of Aristotle's political philosophy is the Politics. However, it is also
important to read Nicomachean Ethics in order to fully recognize Aristotle's political project.
Aristotle believed that ethics and politics were strongly related and that in fact the ethical and
virtuous life is only available to someone who participates in politics, while moral education is the
main purpose of the political community. He conferred in Nicomachean Ethics at 1099b, "The end
(or goal) of politics is the best of ends, and the main concern of politics is to provoke a certain
character in the citizens and to make them good and disposed to perform noble actions."
Development of individual character is left up to the individual, with help from family, religion,
and other non-governmental institutions.
In his literatures Aristotle presented much regard for popular opinions and current practices, he
was essentially a realist philosopher. His works are actually on justification of existing institutions
like family, state and slavery or is calculated to suggest cures for the ills of the body politics of the
city states.
Theory of state: According to Aristotle, man is, by nature and necessity, a social animal. In order
to determine the nature of the state, and how it varies from other communities, Aristotle analyses
it into its component parts and studies it in its historical origin. He conferred that there are two
basic instincts which are instrumental in bringing people together. The first of these is the
reproductive instinct which leads men and women to unite and the second is that of self-
preservation, which causes master and slave to come together for their mutual benefit. Out of these
two relationships, the first thing to arise is the family. The family is the association established by
nature for the supply of men's everyday wants. The family, then, is the first stage in the formation
of the state.
In simple term, he discovers the origin of the state in the innate desire of an individual to satisfy
his economic needs and racial instincts. For the realisation of this desire the male and female on
the one hand and the master and slave on the other, come together, live together and form a family,
i.e., a household which has its moral and social use. It is in the household that the three elements
originate and develop which are essential to the building of a state, namely fellowship, political
organisation and justice.
Aristotle opens the politics with two important ideas: the state is a community and that it is the
highest of all communities, 'which embraces all the rest, aims at good in greater degree than any
other, and at the highest good' the first thesis came naturally to a Greek of the classical period: his
polis was city state with a small area and population. Aristotle was the first to define the state a
community clearly as such, and thus he laid the foundation for the organic conception of the state,
Aristotle stated that sate is a natural community, an organism with all the attributes of a living
being. Aristotle conceives the state as natural in two ways. First, he concisely delineates the
evolution of social institutions from the family through the village to the city state; in the historical
sense, the state is the natural and final stage in the growth of human relations. However, the state
is also considered by Aristotle to be actual in a logical and philosophical sense: "The state is by
nature clearly prior to the family and the individual, since the whole is of necessity prior to the
part". Aristotle upholds that the state is not only a community but it is the highest community
aiming at the highest good. The family is the first association, lowest in the chain of social
development and lowest on the rung of values, because it is established by nature for the supply
of men's every day wants. The village is the second type of association, genetically more complex
than the family, and targeting at something more than, the supply of daily needs. The third and
highest in terms of value and purpose: whereas family and village exist essentially for the
preservation of life and comforts of companionship, the state exists for the sake of a good life, and
not for the sake of life only, and political society exists for the sake of principled actions, and not
of mere companionship. It is well established that the state is the highest form of association, not
only in terms of the social and institutional value, but in terms of man's own nature.
Aristotle contended in the Politics that the drive towards community, political association and the
creation of the state involve more fundamental human characteristics than the mere desire to club
together for a common good. He stated that "at the beginning of this work, when we drew a
distinction between household-management and master-ship, we also stated that by nature man is
a political animal. Hence men have a desire for life together, even when they have no need to seek
each other's help. Nevertheless, common interest too is a factor in bringing them together, in so
far as it contributes to the good life of each. The good life is indeed their chief end, both
communally and individually; but they form and continue to maintain a political association for
the sake of life itself (Politics III: vi, 187)".
Aristotle thought that man was basically good and the function of the state was to develop his good
faculties into a habit of good action. Aristotle saw a good deal of identity between the individual
and the state. Like the individual, the state must show the virtues of bravery, self-control and
justice. The function of the state was the advancement of good life among its citizens and,
therefore, the state was the spiritual association into a moral life. Prof. William Ebenstein has
stated that Aristotle's "is a conception of moral sovereignty rather than of legal sovereignty".
It is evaluated that Aristotle believed as the state is a natural society. He displayed in his literature,
how man is encouraged by his very nature to form the societies of family, village, and state. Man's
natural end is the good life which is to be found only in the state. Therefore, the state is a natural
society.
Slavery:
Aristotle rationalised slavery, which in fact was the order of the day. He wrote in the Politics that
"For that some should rule and others be ruled is a thing not only necessary, but expedient; from
the hour of their birth, same are marked out for subjection other for rule". Actually, Aristotle
defended slavery on the basis of expediency. While conversing the origin of the state and family,
Aristotle commented the institution of slavery. He found slavery is essential to a household and
defends it as natural and, therefore, moral. A slave is a living ownership of his master and is an
instrument of an action. A man cannot lead a good life without slaves any more than he can produce
good music without instruments. Men differ from each other in their physical and intellectual
fitness. Aristotle justified slavery on the grounds of natural inequality between men. Aristotle
presumed that nature is universally ruled by the contrast of the superior and inferior. Man is
superior to the animals, the male to the female, the soul to the body, reason to passion. In all these
divisions, it is just that the superior rule over the inferior, and such a rule is to the advantage of
both. Among men, there are those whose business is to use their body, and who can do nothing
better' and they are by nature slaves. Slavery is not only natural, it is necessary as well. If the
masters do not oppress over the slave, slavery is beneficial to both the master and the slave. Slavery
is essential for the master of the household because, without slaves he has to do manual work
which incapacitates him for public duties.
Aristotle was genuine enough to see that many were slaves by law rather than nature, particularly
those who were reduced to slavery by conquest a custom extensively practiced in the wars of
antiquity. He allowed to slaves the mental ability of apprehending the rational actions and orders
of their master but refuted them the ability of acting rationally on their own initiative.
Aristotle justified the institution of slavery in following ways:
Natural: Slavery is a natural phenomenon. The superior would rule over the inferior just as the
soul rules over the body and reason over appetite. In other words, people with superior reasoning
powers would rule over those inferior in reasoning. The masters are stated to be physically and
mentally strong than the slaves. So, this set-up naturally makes the former the master, and the latter
the slave.
Necessary: Slaves are considered indispensable because they provide leisure that was most
essential for the welfare of the state. Aristotle stated that slavery benefited the slaves as well.
Because by being a slave, he would be able to share the virtues of the master and elevate himself.
Expediency: Aristotle had opinion that slaves have sustained the Greek social and economic
system, and they assisted Greece against social disorder and chaos. He stated that slavery is a social
requirement. It was balancing to the slaves as well as the masters and that it aids in precision.
Aristotle permitted slavery under certain conditions such as:

1. Only those people who were mentally deficient and virtuously not superior should be enslaved.
Aristotle never approved to the enslavement of prisoners of war because victory in the war
does not ineludibly mean intellectual superiority of the victor or the mental deficiency of the
overpowered. He was against the notion of slavery by power.
2. Aristotle asserted that masters must treat their slaves properly, and strongly propagated that
cruel masters must be exposed to legal punishments.
 3. He supported the liberation of only those slaves whose conduct was good and who developed
capacity for reasoning and virtue.
4. Slavery was essential for the overall development but the master has no right to misuse his
power. Slaves are only supporters but not juniors.

Aristotle's justification of slavery looks very unpersuasive and strange. He did not give reliable
and fixed principles for the determination of who is and who is not a natural law. Aristotle's
proclamation that some women are born to rule and others born to conform would reduce the
society into two parts subjectively. Thus, Aristotle's definition of slaves would reduce domestic
servants and women in backward countries to the position of slaves. Karl Popper in his work "Open
Society and its Enemies has disapproved Aristotliean principle of slavery and stated that
"Aristotle's views were indeed reactionary as can be best seen from the fact that he repeatedly finds
it necessary to defend them against the doctrine that no one is a slave by nature, and further from
his own testimony to the anti-slavery tendencies of the Athenian democracy". Schlaifer (1936)
contemplates about Aristotle as "an incoherent person even in the confines of a single sentence".
He also believes that the presence of such flaws in the presentation of a philosopher only displays
the power of ethnocentrism in inducing foolishness. He further considers that Aristotle "only has
argument claiming that all barbarians are slaves by nature

Citizenship:
Aristotle had a conservative standpoint for the concept of citizenship. Aristotle explained a state
as a collective body of citizens. Citizenship was not to be determined by residence since the
resident aliens and slaves also shared a common residence with citizens but were not citizens. He
describes citizen as a person who has the power to take part in the deliberative or judicial
administration of any state. Representative government was unfamiliar to Aristotle because the
Greek city- state was governed directly by its citizens. A citizen also use constitutional rights under
the system of public law.
For Aristotle, a citizen was one who shared power in polis, and dissimilar to the concept of Plato,
he did not distinguish between "an active ruling group and a politically passive community".
Aristotle specified that the young and the old could not be citizens, for one was immature and the
other infirm. He did not regard women as citizens, for they lacked the deliberative faculty and the
leisure to understand the working of politics. A good citizen would have the intelligence and the
ability to rule and be ruled Aristotle suggested a good citizen as someone who could live in
harmony with the constitution and had sufficient leisure time to devote himself to the tasks and
responsibilities of citizenship. A good citizen would possess virtue or moral goodness that would
help in realising a selfless and cooperative civic life. According to William Ebenstein, "Aristotle's
idea of citizenship is that of the economically independent gentleman who has enough experience,
education and leisure to devote him to active citizenship, for citizen must not lead the life of
mechanics or tradesmen, for such life is hostile to virtue. Thus, he regarded citizenship as a bond
forged by the intimacy of participation in public matters.
The great responsibilities in-built in citizenship are not an imposition upon a natural state of human
existence but are rather entirely in accordance with nature. Citizenship is nothing less than the
fullest fulfilment of human potential in terms of the 'good life'. In this respect, as throughout
Aristotle's Politics, the essence of citizenship lies in active participation. The citizen is not merely
an inhabitant of the state, nor simply a member of a politically privileged class.
Aristotle makes significant difference between the 'parts' of the state and its "necessary
conditions". Only those who actively share or have the means and leisure to share in the
government of the state are its components or integral part. All the others are just the necessary
conditions who provide the material environment within which the active citizens freed from
menial tasks, can function.
It is demonstrated in theoretical studies that "Aristotle's idea of a citizen is broadly different from
the modern conception because it is not representative but primary government that he has in view.
His citizen is not content to have a say in the choosing of his rulers; every citizen is actually to rule
in turn, and not merely in the sense of being a member of the executive, but in the sense, a more
important one for Aristotle, of helping to make the laws of his state, for the executive is assigned
the comparatively small function supplementing the laws when they are inadequate owing to their
generality. It is owing to this lofty conception of a citizen's duties that he so closely narrows the
citizen body." This is the reason that Aristotle excludes the mechanic class from citizenship.
Aristotle's conception of the citizen would not be effective today. He was unsuccessful to see the
prospects of representative government. In present scenario, the minimum requirement for
citizenship is the power of voting for the representatives of the people who do the actual ruling in
an egalitarianism.

Distributive justice:
The belief of justice is profoundly rooted in Western thought. Conventionally, it reflects our belief
in the idea of fairness. Aristotle thought that justice is the core of the state and that no polity can
sustain for a long time unless it is founded on a right scheme of justice. He opined that justice is
complete virtue, and the epitome of all goodness. It is not the same thing as virtue, but it is virtue
and virtue in action. Therefore, Aristotle clearly explained that 'the goodness in the sphere of
politics is justice, and justice contains what tends to promote the common interest." It is established
that Aristotle introduced the notion of distributive justice. In his Nicomachean Ethics, and at the
side of the general notion of justice. The term "just," has two meaning. Firstly, it is mainly used to
describe a conduct in agreement with the "law";' a conduct, therefore, which conforms to an
established, authoritative rule of human conduct, It can be said that it is used to define a conduct
which conforms to whatever constitutes an authoritative instrument of social and moral control. In
this sense Justice signifies a "moral disposition which renders men apt to do just things and which
causes them to act justly and to wish what is just." It refers primarily to the application or
observance of certain authoritative rules of human conduct. Secondly, Justice signifies Equality or
a "fair mean." Justice in the sense of Equality has to do with external and commensurable things.
It is concerned with the proportionate ratio of commensurable goods.
Aristotle elucidated the relation of "moral Justice" and Equality by pointing out that Equality is
related to "moral Justice" in the same way as the part is related to the whole.
Aristotle believed that justice saves the states from destruction, it makes the states and political
life pure and healthy. According to Aristotle, justice is either general or particular. He further said
that general justice is complete goodness. It is complete in the fullest sense, because it is the
exercise of complete goodness not only in himself but also towards his neighbours. Particular
justice is a part of complete or general justice.
He mentioned special kinds of justice, which he called corrective justice and distributive justice.
Corrective justice is associated with voluntary commercial transactions like sale, hire, furnishing
of security, etc and other things like aggression on property and life, honour and freedom.
Distributive justice consists of proper allocation to each person according to his worth. This type
of justice relates primarily but not exclusively to political freedoms.
Concept of distributive justice demonstrates each type of political organisation, its own standard
of worth and therefore, of distributive justice. Distributive justice calls for honour or political
office or money to be apportioned in accordance with merit (Samuel Fleischacker, 2009).
Distributive justice allocates to every man his due according to his contributions to the society.
Distributive justice is recognizable with proportionate equality. Aristotle's idea of distributive
Justice does not apply to modern conditions. Based on the notion of award of officers and honours
in proportion to contribution of man to society, it could apply to a small city states and is not
applicable to modern self-governing states with large population. Thus, his theory of distributive
justice is outlying from the reality of the modern world.
Education: Aristotle delineated that education must be modified to the constitution of the state and
should be designed to train man in a certain type of character suitable to the state. According to
him, the building of a particular type of character was more important than the imparting of
knowledge and therefore proper educational authority was the states and not the private
individuals. Aristotle further elaborated that "Education is the creation of a sound mind in a sound
body. It develops man's faculty, especially his mind so that he may be able to enjoy the
contemplation of supreme truth, goodness and beauty of which perfect happiness essentially
consists."
Similar to thoughts of Plato, Aristotle accepted the importance of early childhood as a formative
period of human development. He divided schooling into three stages: primary, secondary, and
higher education. Ages 7-14 would attend primary and could consist of gymnastics, writing,
reading, music, and drawing. Ages 14-21 would attend secondary and would continue their
primary studies while implementing literature, poetry, drama, choral music, and dancing. The last
four years would be spent in military drill, tactics, and strategy. Higher studies would begin at age
21 and continue as long as the student was willing and able. Higher education was for males only
as Aristotle believed women were not capable of such complex studies.
It is supposed Aristotle wrote 150 philosophical treatises with the 30 that survive touching on an
enormous range of philosophical problems, from biology and physics to morals to aesthetics to
politics. Though, many are thought to simply be "lecture notes" instead of complete treatises and
a few may not even be Aristotle's but of members of his school. One of the major discoveries that
were made during the Crusades was that of Aristotle's texts which had not been found up until this
point. With the discovery of these texts, the rise of Islam, and the spread of the Arab Empire, they
became familiar to Muslim scholars who translated them into Arabic. They then spread throughout
the Islamic world including Spain. In the 12th century, scholars came from England, Paris, and
Italy to seek them out and translate them into Latin. At this point, Aristotle's texts had now spread
into the intellectual centres of the West. Arabic scholars have managed to preserve Aristotle's work
in whole and they have recognized over time that none of his work is consistent with any religious
ideas or thoughts of his time. Aristotle's works were finally translated into Latin and then circulated
all through Europe to give birth of modern atheism.
Aristotle was supporter of setting of state controlled educational institutions. However, Aristotle's
view on education was less comprehensive and systematic compared to his master, Plato.He
classified governments on a twofold basis that include:

1. The end of the state

2. The number of persons who hold or share autonomous power. This basis allows us to
distinguish between the pure and corrupt forms of government. This is because the true end
of the state is the perfection of its members and the degree of devotion to this end is the
criterion to judge whether a government is pure or unethical.

Table: Classification of government

Of the three true forms, Aristotle holds monarchy to be the most perfect type of government.
Aristotle's profound sympathy for monarchy is to be understood in the light of his relations with
the rising Macedonian monarchy.
Aristotle described democracy as a government formed of the best men absolutely, and not just of
men who are relatively, that is in relation to changing circumstances and constitutions. The corrupt
form of aristocracy is oligarchy in which government by affluent is carried on for their own benefit
instead of the whole state. Whereas merit and virtue the distinctive qualities to be considered in
selecting the rulers in an aristocracy, wealth is the basis of selection in an oligarchy.
The third true form of state is polity or constitutional government. Aristotle elaborated polity as
the state that the citizens at large control for the common interest. Constitutional government is a
compromise between the two philosophies of freedom and wealth that attempt to unite the freedom
of the poor and the wealth of the rich, without giving either principle exclusive predominance. The
degenerate form of constitutional government is democracy and defined it as a system in which
the poor rule. It is government by the poor, and for the poor, only just as dictatorship is government
by one for his own benefit and oligarchy government by the wealthy few for their class benefit.

Revolution:
Aristotle was deeply involved in examining the notion of revolution. According to Aristotle, "If
any change occurs in the existing system or constitution of the state, it means the revolution. He
thoroughly explained the theory of revolution. In his study of nearly 158 constitutions, he
understood the implications of revolutions on a political system. In his work, Politics, he
deliberated at length all about revolutions. Aristotle gave a scientific analysis and expert treatment
to the subject of revolutions. He offered broad meaning to the term 'revolution' which meant two
things to him. To explore stability through polity, Aristotle inspected the causes for instability,
change and revolution and recommend remedies against unnecessary and continuous change.

Measure of revolution:
Aristotle indicated that there are different types of measure of revolution. These are

1. A revolution may take the form of a change of constitution of state.

2. The revolution may try to grasp political power without changing the constitution.
3. A revolution may be directed against not the inter system of government, but a particular
institution or set of persons in the state.

In book of the politics, Aristotle conferred one of the most important problems which made it a
hand book for all state men for all time to come. The analytical and the empirical mind of Aristotle
gives several causes of revolution and suggest remedies to overcome them. Prof. Ebenstein
indicated that Politics of Aristotle is more a book on the art of government than a systematic
exposition of political philosophy. In Aristotle analysis, the evils that were predominant in the
Geek cities and the defects in the political systems gives practical suggestions as to the best way
to avoid dangers.

Causes of revolution:
Aristotle described that there are two categories of causes of revolution that include general and
particular.
General Causes:
The general causes of revolutions were broadly categorised into three.

1. Psychological motives or the state of mind.

2. The objectives in mind.
3. The occasions that gave rise to political upheaval and mutual strife.

The psychological factors were the desire for equality in an oligarchy and inequality in a
democracy .The objectives in mind included profit, honour, insolence, fear superiority in some
form, contempt disproportionate increase in some part of the state, election intrigues, wilful
negligence, neglect of unimportant changes, fear of opposites and dissimilarity of component parts
of the state. The events that give rise to revolutionary changes were disrespect, desire for profit
and honour, superiority, fear, contempt, and disproportionate increase in one part or element of the
state.
Aristotle stated that revolutions occur when the political order fails to correspond to the
distribution of property and hence tensions arise in the class structure, eventually leading to
revolutions. Arguments over justice are at the centre of the revolution.
The cause of revolution is a desire on the part of those who are lacking of virtue and who are
motivated by an urge to possess property, which is in the name of their opponents. In other words,
the cause of disturbance is inequality.
Aristotle recorded certain general causes of revolutions that affect all types of governments and
states. These include, the mental state or feelings of those who revolt; the motive, which they desire
to fulfil; the immediate source or occasion of revolutionary outburst.
The mental state is nothing but a desire for equality and it is a state of imbalance. Another objective
of those rebel or revolt is to gain honour. Besides these, Aristotle gave other reasons, which are
psychological as well as political in nature that lead to revolutions. They are as follows:

1. Profit means that the officers of the state try to make illicit gains at the expense of the individual
or of the public. It puts the latter to an undeserved loss and creates a mood of discontent.
2. Rebellions occur when men are dishonoured rightly or wrongly and when they see others
obtaining honours that they do not deserve. The like-minded people join the movement when
the government fails to redress their grievances.
3. Revolutions happen when insolence or disrespect is displayed by the other members. A
revolutionary climate would be soon created, especially when the state officials become
haughty, arrogant and drunk with power, or pay no attention to the genuine problems of the
people. This leads to a deep division in the society, especially between the state and the
people. Over a period of time, people's complaints against corrupt officials increase which
culminate into revolutions.
4. Fear is a genuine and a worst enemy of man and human institutions. It interrupts peace of
mind and other emotions. Revolutions can occur either out of fear of punishment for a wrong
actually committed or a fear of an expected wrong to be inflicted on the person who is afraid.
5. Disdain is closely related to revolution. This contempt can be towards rules, laws, political and
economic situations, social and economic order. The contempt is also due to inequalities,
injustices, lack of certain privileges and the like.
6. Lastly, revolutions are also the consequence of imbalances in the disproportionate increase in
the power of the state that creates a gap between the constitution and the society. In the end,
the constitution reflects social realities, the balances of social and economic forces.

If this balance is troubled, the constitution is traumatised and it will either get modified or will
succumb. The political factors that exaggerate revolution include elections intrigues, carelessness,
neglecting small changes, growth in reputation and power of some office, or even balance of
parties lead to deadlock and finally foreign influence.
Particular Causes: Aristotle recognized certain specific causes in various types of states. For
instance, in democracies, discontentment is raised by the manipulators who attack the rich either
individually or collectively and build hatred among the people who become revengeful and violent
and this situation leads to conflicts.
In oligarchies, revolutions occur when masses experience an unpleasant treatment by the officials
resulting in dissensions within the governing class. Personal disagreements may further the flames
of fire and though imperceptible, changes in the class structure of society may invisibly alter the
attitude.
Aristotle believed that it is not necessary that oligarchy become democracy or vice versa, but they
might change into a completely different system altogether. In aristocracies, revolutions occur
when the circle of the rulers get narrowed down and become thinner and thinner. It is the
disequilibrium in the balance of the different elements or parts of the constitution that causes
revolutions. As far as the monarchies and the tyrannies are concerned, revolutions are caused by
insolence, resentment of insults, fears, contempt, and desire for fame, influence of neighbouring
states, sexual offences and physical illnesses.
Aristotle indicated that there are unpredictable degrees of revolution. A revolution many take the
form of a change of constitution a state or the revolutionaries may try to grasp political power
without changing the constitution. A revolution may be directed against not the entire system of
government but a particular institution or set of person in the state. A revolution may be completing
equipped or peaceful and personal or impersonal.
In order to identify a revolution, it is important to consider the temper of the revolutionaries and
their motives and causes and occasions of revolution. Aristotle deliberated general causes of
revolution and then looked into the reasons why individual constitutions changed. Contrary to
Plato, Aristotle professed multiple reasons for revolutions rather than a regime's prominent
deficiency. He placed greater responsibility on the rulers to ensure stability and justice.
In general, Aristotle states that poverty is main factor for revolution and crime. When there is no
middle class and the poor greatly exceed in number, troubles arise, and the state soon comes to an
end. In democracy, the most important cause of revolution is the dishonest character of the popular
leaders. Demagogues attack the rich, individually or collectively, so as to provide them to forcibly
resist and provide the emergence of oligarchy. The causes of overthrow of oligarchies can be
internal as when a group within the class in power becomes more influential or external, by the
mistreatment of the masses in governing. When the number of people benefiting become smaller
or when disparity between rich and poor becomes wider, revolution is caused in a monarchy.
Sedition was usually due to fear, contempt, and desire for fame, insults, hatred and desire by
neighbouring states to extend their boundaries.
Techniques to prevent revolution:
For prevention of revolution, Aristotle desired the rulers to conform laws even in smallest matters.
He assumed that wrongdoing, of even in small amounts, would sooner or later result in total
disrespect and violation. Further, taking cue from the rulers, if people start breaking the laws, the
entire social order would be at stake.
He intensely recommended the rulers that they must believe that they can fool some people all the
time, all the people for some time and not all the people all the time. It can be said that, people
should not be taken for granted, and sooner or later they will burst with abruptness and throw the
rulers.
Aristotle also indicated that the rulers must take care of all those people in their domain. They
should not differentiate between the officer and commoner, between governing and non-governing
and the like. The principle of democratic equality must be followed. Additionally, every inhabitant
must be given liberty to express their opinions about the government and that the tenure of the
officials must be short-term. By this technique, oligarchies and aristocracies would not fall into
the hands of the families.
In general form, Aristotle has suggested a number of useful and practical remedies for preventing
revolutions. The first essential remedy are to instruct the spirit of obedience to law, especially in
small matters and to watch the beginning of change in the constitution. Aristotle recommended
that too much power should not be allowed to one man or one class of men and various classes in
the state should be treated with consideration. Great political offices in the state should be outside
the reach of unkind strangers and aliens. Holders of offices should not be able to make private
gain. Public administration, particularly financial administration, should be exposed to public
scrutiny. Additionally, offices and honours should be awarded on considerations of distributive
justice and no class of citizens should have a control of political power. Again, the higher offices
in the state should be distributed only on considerations of loyalty to the constitution administrative
capacity and integrity of character, but each citizen must have his due.
In final note, Aristotle contended that effective education is necessary to control the revolutionary
instinct and to preserve social order.
Democracy:
It is well established that democracy is derived from a Greek word which means government of
the people, by the people and for the people. Demos means people, and cratos means government.
This is the meaning of the word. Democracy, or rule by the people, is an egalitarian form of
government in which all the citizens of a nation determine public policy, the laws, and the actions
of their state together. Democracy requires that all citizens have an equal opportunity to express
their opinion.
With reference to democracy, Aristotle believed that democracy is characterised by twin principles
of freedom and majority rule. Aristotle was not opposed to democracy in similar way as Plato did.
According to him, democracy is a form of government in which supreme power is with freemen.
He believed that the aggregates virtue and ability of the mass of the people was greater than the
virtue and ability of a part of the population. People do not understand the technicalities of an
administration, they have the common sense of appointing right administrators and legislators and
of checking any misbehaviour on the part of the latter. Aristotle's democracy means aristo-
democracy of the free citizens because the large body of slaves and aliens can have no share in the
government of the day. Direct democracy is possible only in a small city state. Aristotle denounces
only the extreme form of democracy namely mobocracy.
Ideally, Aristotle analogized rule by the many (democracy/polity) with rule by the few
(oligarchy/aristocracy) and with rule by a single person (tyranny or autocracy/monarchy). He
believed that there was a good and a bad variant of each system. For Aristotle, the basic principle
of democracy is freedom, since only in a democracy the citizens have a share in freedom. There
are two main aspects of freedom: (1) being ruled and ruling in turn, since everyone is equal
according to number and not by merit, and (2) to be able to live as one wishes.
It can be appraised that Aristotle's conversation of politics is decisively stranded in the world of
the Greek city-state, or polis. He assumes that any state will consist of the same basic elements of
a Greek city-state: male citizens who administer the state, and then women, slaves, foreigners, and
noncitizen labourers who perform the necessary menial tasks to keep the city running. Aristotle
considers active citizenship as an essential trait of the good life. He insists that we can only fully
realize our wisdom and humanity as citizens of a city-state. He concludes that fully realized
humans are successful political leader.
To summarize, Aristotle's Political description has served as a groundwork for the whole western
political tradition. His encyclopaedic mind embraced practically all the branches of human
knowledge. Dissimilar to Plato's Republic, Aristotle's works were dignified in thinking and
analysis, reflecting the mind of a scientist instead of that of a philosopher. He considered as the
father of political science because he was perhaps the first political thinker to analyse political
institutions and behaviour systematically and scientifically. Aristotle determines that "man is a
political animal". People can only achieve the good life by living as citizens in a state. In
deliberating the economic relations that hold within a city-state, Aristotle protects the institution
of private property, condemns excessive capitalism, and notoriously defends the institution of
slavery. Before presenting his own views, Aristotle converses various theoretical and actual
models current at his time. In particular, he launches extensive attacks on Plato's Republic and
Laws, which most critics find unproductive and off the mark, as well as criticizing other modern
philosophers and the constitutions of Sparta, Crete, and Carthage. Aristotle recognizes citizenship
with the holding of public office and administration of justice and claims that the identity of a city
rests in its constitution. In the case of a revolution, where the citizenship and constitution change,
a city's identity changes, and so it cannot be held responsible for its actions before the revolution.
He was a great innovator in political science.

Western Political Thought: Machiavelli

Niccolo di Bernardo dei Machiavelli had gained immense fame in developing political thought.
He was an Italian Renaissance historian, politician, diplomat, philosopher, humanist, and writer.
He has often been referred as the originator of modern political science. He held the position of
senior official in the Florentine Republic for many years, with responsibilities in diplomatic and
military affairs. He also wrote comedies, carnival songs, and poetry.
"Machiavellianism" is extensively used as a negative term to characterize unprincipled politicians
of the sort Machiavelli described in The Prince. Machiavelli defined immoral behaviour, such as
deceitfulness and killing innocents, as being normal and effective in politics. He even looked to
endorse it in some situations. The book itself gained notoriety when some readers demanded that
the writer was imparting evil, and providing "evil recommendations to oppressors to help them
maintain their power." The term "Machiavellian" is often related with political deceit, deviousness,
and realpolitik. Many critics, such as Baruch Spinoza, Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Denis Diderot,
have argued that Machiavelli was actually a republican, even when writing The Prince, and his
writings were an inspiration to Enlightenment advocates of modern democratic political
philosophy.
Machiavelli was the first to state and systematically uncover the power view of politics, laying
down the foundations of a new science akin to Galileo's Dynamics became the basis of the modern
science of nature. Machiavaelli recognized politics as the struggle for the acquisition, maintenance
and consolidation of political power, an analysis developed by Thomas Hobbes and Harrington in
the 17th century, Alexander Hamilton and James Madison in the 18th century Pareto Mosca and
Robert Michels in the 19th century, and Robert A Dhal, David Easton, Hans J. Morgenthau Morton
A Kaplan in the 20th century. Machiavelli's literatures do not belong to the realm of political
theory. He wrote mainly of the process of government, of the means by which the states may be
made strong, of the policies by which they can increase their power and of the errors that lead to
their decline and destruction. Prof. Dunning called Machiavellian philosophy as "the study of the
art of government rather than a theory of state".
As a theorist, Machiavelli was dominant figure in realistic political theory, crucial to European
statecraft during the Renaissance. His two most famous books, Discorsi sopra la prima deca di
Tito Livio (Discourses on Livy) and Il Principe (The Prince), were written in anticipation of
refining the conditions of the Northern Italian principalities, but became general handbooks for a
new style in politics.
Machiavelli's most famous work, The Prince, certainly proclaimed a theatrical break with previous
political principles anchored in moral and religious systems of thought. Unlike his classical or
medieval predecessors, who took their political bearings from transcendentally valid or
delightfully sanctioned conceptions of justice, Machiavelli oriented himself to the "effectual truth"
of politics such as how the world actually "is" instead of how it "ought" to be. Indeed, Machiavelli's
viciously realistic advice seems intended to disregard all previous, socially respectable forms of
political reflection.
The Prince is Machiavelli's most adorable writing piece in the history of political philosophy,
although it is perhaps not as philosophical as the Discourses. The fame of the book rests on its
objective and pragmatic approach, even to the point of cynicism, to political action. Machiavelli
makes observations about the actual conduct of political leaders and looks at whether or not they
achieve the results they set out to achieve. He then uses these considerations as a basis of practical
recommendations, and these recommendations frequently go against common morality.
It is not obvious what Machiavelli wanted to accomplish by writing, The Prince. In the dedicatory
letter, he appears to be requesting a job for the Medici government, but it has been noted that he
undermines his own case by some of the advice he gives in the work (Chapter XXIII). The most
innovative aspect of The Prince is its separation of politics and ethics. Classical political theory
traditionally linked political law with a higher, moral law. On the contrary, Machiavelli contends
that political action must always be considered in light of its practical magnitudes rather than some
disdainful ideal.
Another prominent feature of The Prince is that it is far less theoretical than the literature on
political theory that heralded it. Other earlier thinkers had constructed hypothetical notions of ideal
or natural states, but Machiavelli treated historical evidence practically to ground. The Prince is
dedicated to the current ruler of Florence, and it is readily apparent that Machiavelli intends for
his advice to be taken seriously by the powerful men of his time. It is a practical guide for a ruler
rather than an abstract treatise of philosophy.
In the Prince, Machiavelli discovers the world of governments and rulers and develops some
revolutionary ideas for a prince to acquire the leading position in the government and maintain his
authority and leadership. Though, the philosopher does not teach the ruler to be good and just; his
aim is to provide the governor with practical applications of being a great prince but not a good
one. Machiavelli focuses on evil features more because they would help to advance the power of
the prince. In his book, it does not seem that an evil or cruel behaviour is an intolerable one, as he
modifies the moral language about vice and good. In the book, Machiavelli begins with his
dedication to Lorenzo de' Medici and finishes it with an assertion that Italy must resuscitate and
gain considerable power.
In chapter fifteen, Machiavelli indicated that "Many have imagined republics and principalities
that have never been seen or known to exist in truth. For it is far from how one lives to how one
should live. That he who lets go of what is done for what should be done learns his ruin rather than
his preservation" (p. 54). The passage suggests to the Plato's Republic, in which he reports that the
philosopher kings should govern society. The governors have to be good and just and they must
help their subjects to maintain the purity of their souls and also be good. In the Prince, "a ruler
should read historical works, especially for the light they shed on the actions of eminent men to
impersonate some well-known man, worthy of praise and glory" (p. 51).
Though, Machiavelli is concerned with an actual truth of the matter and not the ideal of it. He
compares a prince to a prophet, which does not essentially mean that he has celestial knowledge;
instead it gives them exceptional responsibilities like law making and shaping opinions that govern
our lives. Thus, Machiavelli's visionary, prince has philosopher's features as he tries to change
human opinion over the justice and evil. He acts as if he is good, but does not have to be good. To
support his conclusions, Machiavelli emerged with extreme examples such as Romulus' and Cain's
murders of Remus and Abel reverentially. These murders were the fundaments of the societies
and, therefore, the philosopher asserts that no good is possible without evil. Thus, he redefines
Plato's philosophies of the philosopher kings who approach pure reason to be good and just. On
the contrary, Machiavelli gives examples of extraordinary situations and draws the morality that
would flawlessly fit the situation.
Machiavelli's book also differentiates itself on the subject of free will. Medieval and Renaissance
philosophers often looked to religion or ancient authors for clarifications of plagues, famines,
invasions, and other catastrophes. They considered the actual deterrence of such disasters to be
beyond the range of human power. In The Prince, when Machiavelli claims that people have the
ability to safeguard themselves against hardship, he articulates an astonishing confidence in the
power of human self-determination and confirms his belief in free will as opposed to divine
fortune.
Since they were first published, Machiavelli's ideas have been overgeneralised and disparaged. His
political thought is usually and unethically defined solely in terms of The Prince. The adjective
"Machiavellian" is used to mean "manipulative," "deceptive," or "ruthless." But Machiavelli's
Discourses, a work substantially longer and more developed than The Prince, expounds republican
subjects of patriotism, civic virtue, and open political participation.
For Machiavelli, the capacity for such acts is not an aberration of the political art, but an essential
part of a ruler's "skill set." Such stark realism and the hard break with the Classical-Christian
tradition has led many to denounce Machiavelli as an "immoralist," an "advisor to tyrants," and a
"teacher of evil." Others have defended the Prince for its author's realistic appraisal of politics,
shrewd psychological insights, and tough-minded advice for a dangerous world.
Machiavelli also composed several minor works such as shorter political and historical texts,
poetry and plays. The most important of these is the Art of War, a dialogue on military affairs. The
Life of Castruccio Castracani is stimulating as a literary model for the Florentine Histories. In his
poetry as well as his correspondence, there are alternative formulations of some of the views, he
presents in his two major political works. The Urging to Penitence, one of his last writings, is a
discourse and thus creates inquisitiveness among Machiavelli's political writings.
There are numerous grounds for Machiavelli's moral indifferences. These are mentioned below:
 1. Machiavelli does not believe in any ethical doctrines or in any divine law because of intentional
segregation of politics from religion.
2. In Machiavelli's thinking, moral judgments are wholly subordinate to the existence of political
and temporal existence and welfare.
3. Machiavelli considered that the institution of Papacy brought decline and destruction to the
magnificence of Rome. He wanted to practice pagan virtues of cunningness, duplicity and
knavery for achieving successful goals.
4. Machiavelli did not at all refute the brilliance of moral virtues, but he snubbed to accept them
essential to the political stability. He pleads that the religion must be skilfully exploited as a
useful defence to achieve the annexing designs by the sovereign.
5. Machiavelli stands bravely for the preservation of his state. He stated that there must be no
consideration of what is just or unjust, merciful or cruel, glorious or shameful; on the contrary,
everything must be overlooked.
6. He communicated priority to the state and puts it above morality and religion, because it is the
highest form of social organization and the most essential of all institutions for the protection
and promotion of human welfare.
7. Machiavelli's support of unreligious and his indifference to morality have become so much
interrupted that even his name has become a by-word for fraud, force and dishonesty. He
wrote primarily for the adoration of the state.

In contemporary world, some of the States Heads performed as "Prince of Machiavelli" by freezing
all channels of human progress and liberty and also by reducing the citizens to that of animals and
slaves. The Prince and the Discourses are still modern theories and are being practiced in many
secular countries of modern phase.
During the last 500 years, The Prince has been a choice of several political leaders, like Louis XIV,
Napoleon Bonaparte and Benito Mussolini. Because of the purely technical lessons, one can learn
from the book. It is beneficial to all politicians no matter what their ideologies are. This may have
contributed to the popular conviction that the book is just a manual on how to gain power by any
means necessary, with no regard to how you should use that power. This is the Shakespearean
view of the man as the "murderous Machiavel".
There is also the long tradition of construing Machiavelli's works as patriotic appeals. The idea
can be found in Hegel, and during the 19th century Italian Risorgimento. Machiavelli was known
as an important early supporter of Italian unity.
Many thinker observed in the Discourses the seeds of modern republicanism. Jean-Jacques
Rousseau even puts forth the theory that in the Discourses Machiavelli presents his true, republican
view, while The Prince is an ironic work. But it is said that Machiavelli's republicanism is not
based mainly on moral principles, but also on amoral considerations: a republic is simply a more
powerful and enduring political and military mechanism.
Actually, The Discourses on Livy is often labelled as Machiavelli's "book on republics," but this
is not completely true. The Discourses provides a different viewpoint on politics. The work is a
defence of republics, as the best form of government for preserving liberty and security because
power is shared between the lower and upper class. "There should never be an institution which
allows the few to decide on any matter which in the ordinary course of things is essential to the
maintenance of the commonwealth" (The Discourses, I, 50). He does focus on republics, ancient
and modern, but he also debates monarchies or princedoms. Conversely, his advice in the Prince
is often relevant to leaders of republics. There is, however, a tension between the republicanism of
the Discourses and the autocracy of the Prince, for the same author who champions the cause of
liberty and self-government in the former gives advice on preserving one-man rule in the latter. It
is possible to find a common thread in Machiavelli's mode of analysis (realist and historical) and
to view the Prince as a special example of his political science and the Discourses as the core of
this science, as well as the heart of his political dogma. Presently, Machiavelli of the Discourses
has gained the attention of scholars for revitalising the republican custom in the modern world.
Machiavelli's inheritance is the sturdiest in political science. Many essayists have claimed that his
goal was to comprehend and explain political phenomena in scientific terms. Although this is a
contentious statement about his true aims, his influence on political science is undisputable. In
Machiavellian belief, Christianity should not restrain any political activity. The matters of
government should be solely secular. The philosopher strives to create a new type of republic,
which would deal only with practical issues and without asserting any mystical moral law. Famous
scholar Steven Smith proclaimed that "not only did Machiavelli bring a new worldliness to politics,
he also introduced a new kind of populism as Plato and Aristotle imagined aristocratic republics
that would invest power in an aristocracy of education and virtue, Machiavelli deliberately seeks
to enlist the power of the people against aristocracies of education and virtue." To maintain such
state, the republic has to have imperialistic ambitions and subsequently be belligerent.

Outlook towards Religion:

The innovation in Machiavelli's writings was his attitude towards religion and morality which
differentiated from all those who headed him. He was sarcastic in his attack on the church and its
church for their failure to provide moral aspiration. He wrote thus: We Italians then owe to the
Church of Rome and her priests our having become irreligious and bad, but we owe her a still
greater debt and one that will be the cause of our ruin, namely that the church has kept and still
keeps our country divided.
Machiavelli was anti-church and anti-clergy, but not anti-religion. He measured religion as
essential not only for man's social life but also for the health and affluence of the state. It was
important within a state because of the influence it exercised over political life in general.
Machiavelli's boldness towards religion was strictly utilitarian. It was a social force; it played a
crucial role because it appealed to the self-centredness of man through its principle of reward and
punishment, thereby inducing proper behaviour and good conduct that was necessary for the well-
being of a society. Religion determined the social and ethical standards and values that directed
human conduct and actions. William Ebenstein proclaimed that Machiavelli's opinions on morals
and religion exemplify his belief in the authority of power over other social values. He has so sense
of religion as a deep personal experience, and the mystical element in religion, its supernatural and
supranational character is alien to his attitude. Yet he has a positive attitude toward religion;
although his religion becomes a tool of influence and control in the hands of the ruler over the
ruled. Machiavelli visualizes in religion the poor man's reason, ethics, and morality put together
and 'where religion exists it is easy to introduce armies and discipline'.
When appraising his theoretical dogma, it is demonstrated that Machiavelli's political theories
were not created in a systematic manner; they were mostly in the form of remarks upon particular
situations. Prof. Sabine stated that the 'character of Machiavelli and the true meaning of his
philosophy have been one of the paradoxes of modern history.
He has been represented as an utter cynic, and impassioned patriot, an ardent nationalist, a political
Jesuit, a convinced democrat, and unscrupulous seeker after the favour of despots. In each of their
views, incompatible as they are, there is probably an element of truth. Other political philosophers
drew their inspiration and further developed solid and most important political notions such as the
concept of the state and its true meaning from Machiavelli. As Prof. Sabine has indicated,
"Machiavelli more than any other political thinker created the meaning that has been attached to
the state in modern political usage".
Machiavelli is considered as the father of modern political theory and political science. Apart from
conjecturing about the state, he also given meaning to the concept of sovereignty. Machiavelli's
position was in providing an outlook that accepted both secularisation and a moralisation of
politics. He took politics out of context of theology, and subordinated moral and subordinated
moral philosophies to the necessities of political existence and people's welfare. The absence of
religious arguments in Machiavelli led the theorists who followed to challenging issues like order
and power in strictly political terms. Thus Machiavelli was the first who gave the idea of
secularism. The Machiavellian state is to begin within a complete sense, and entirely secular state.
Machiavelli was the first rationalist or realist in the history of political thought. His technique and
approach to problems of politics were guided by common sense and history. His ideas were
ground-breaking in nature and substance and he brought politics in line with political practice. By
empathising the importance of the study of history, Machiavelli recognized a method that was
extremely beneficial. Gramsci acclaimed the greatness of Machiavelli for separating politics from
ethics. In the 'Prison Notebooks' there were a number of references to Machiavelli, and Gramsci
indicated that the protagonist of the new prince in modern times could not be an individual hero,
but a political party whose objective was to establish a new kind of state, though critical of the
church and Christianity.
To summarize, Machiavelli's political doctrine is discerning especially in those situations where
there is unpredictability or substantial change. He is known to be a transitional figure standing
midway between the medieval and modern political thought. He was a historian who laid the
foundations of a new science of politics by assimilating contemporary history with ancient past.
His famous writing is The Prince, a playbook, a manual of sorts, for leadership where government
needs to be created or stabilized. Machiavelli is considered the first political theorist to reject
Ancient viewpoint, which is characterized by happiness is goal, a well formed society like a
beehive, everyone in their place and peaceful (Plato, Aristotle, Augustine, Aquinas, etc.), holistic
philosophy including all facets of existence, ontology and nature or Gods who control fate of
humanity.
He has had an amazingly immense influence on modern civilization. Firstly, Machiavelli's
opinions on politics and political leaders effected how future political leaders would run their
countries. Furthermore, Machiavelli had also influence on the future of modern western
civilization in comparison to the renaissance artists of his time.

Western Political Thought: John Locke

John Locke (1632-1704) is recognized as a captivating persona in the history of political
philosophy whose intelligence of exposition and scale of scholarly activity had profound influence
on the development of political thought. John Locke was an English philosopher and physician,
generally regarded as one of the most persuasive of Enlightenment intellectuals and usually
identified as the "Father of Liberalism". It can be said that liberalism as a political thought initiated
with John Locke. No political thinker had influenced political theorizing on two different countries
in two different continents as Locke did. He was the controlling and spiritual predecessor of the
18th century enlightenment period, particularly for philosopher like Rousseau and Voltaire. He
was accredited as the originator of modern empiricism with Hume, J.S. Mill, Russel as its
exponents. He is equally important to social contract theory. His work greatly impacted the
development of epistemology and political thinking. His writings influenced Voltaire and
Rousseau, many Scottish Enlightenment thinkers, as well as the American insurgents. His
contributions to classical republicanism and liberal theory are echoed in the United States
Declaration of Independence.
Locke anticipated a deep-seated conception of political philosophy construed from the principle
of self-ownership and the corollary right to own property, which in turn is based on his famous
assertion that a man earns ownership over a resource when he mixes his labour with it. He argued
that government should be limited to securing the life and property of its citizens, and is only
necessary because in an ideal, anarchic state of nature, various problems rise that would make life
more uncertain than under the protection of a minimal state. Locke is also renowned for his
writings on toleration in which he adopted the right to freedom of conscience and religion, and for
his forceful criticism of hereditary monarchy and patriarchalism. After his death, his mature
political philosophy leant support to the British Whig party and its principles, to the Age of
Enlightenment, and to the development of the separation of the State and Church in the American
Constitution as well as to the rise of human rights theories in the Twentieth Century.
It is well identified that Locke exercised a deep influence on political philosophy, in particular on
modern liberalism. Michael Zuckert has contended that Locke launched liberalism by moderating
Hobbesian absolutism and evidently separating the monarchies of Church and State. He had a
strong influence on Voltaire who called him "le sage Locke". His arguments concerning liberty
and the social contract later influenced the written works of Alexander Hamilton, James Madison,
Thomas Jefferson, and other Founding Fathers of the United States. But Locke's influence may
have been even more reflective in the realm of epistemology. Locke redefined subjectivity, or self,
and intellectual historians such as Charles Taylor and Jerrold Seigel argue that Locke's An Essay
Concerning Human Understanding (1690) marks the commencement of the modern Western
conception of the self.

The Moral Role of Government:

Locke stated that political power is the natural power of each man cooperatively given up into the
hands of a designated body. The setting up of government is much less important, Locke
contemplates that this is original social-political "compact." A community surrenders some degree
of its natural rights in favour of government, which is better able to protect those rights than any
man could alone. Because government exists specially for the welfare of the community, any
government that breaks the compact can and should be substituted. The community has a moral
obligation to upheaval against or otherwise replace any government that forgets that it exists only
for the people's benefit. Locke realized that it was important to thoroughly examine public
institutions and be clear about what functions were legitimate and what areas of life were
inappropriate for those institutions to participate in or exert influence over. He also believed that
determining the proper role of government would allow humans to flourish as individuals and as
societies, both materially and spiritually. Because God gave man the ability to reason, the freedom
that a properly executed government provides for humans amounts to the fulfilment of the divine
purpose for humanity. According to Locke, the moral order of natural law is permanent and self-
perpetuating. Governments are only factors contributing to that moral order.

An Empirical Theory of Knowledge:

For Locke, all knowledge comes exclusively through experience. Locke's theory of mind is often
mentioned as the basis of modern ideas of identity and the self, figuring conspicuously in the work
of later philosophers such as Hume, Rousseau, and Kant. Locke was the first to define the self
through a continuity of consciousness. He assumed that, at birth, the mind was a blank slate or
tabula rasa. Conflicting to Cartesian philosophy based on pre-existing concepts, he sustained that
people are born without innate ideas, and that knowledge is instead determined only by experience
derived from sense perception. He argued that humans fill with ideas as they experience the world
through the five senses. Locke described knowledge as the connection and agreement, or
disagreement and repugnancy, of the ideas humans form. This description clearly indicates that
our knowledge does not extend beyond the scope of human ideas. In fact, it would mean that our
knowledge is even narrower than this description implies, because the connection between most
simple human ideas is unknown. Because ideas are limited by experience, and we cannot possibly
experience everything that exists in the world, our knowledge is further compromised.
Nevertheless, Locke proclaimed that though our knowledge is necessarily limited in these ways,
we can still be certain of some things. For example, we have an intuitive and immediate knowledge
of our own existence, even if we are unaware of the metaphysical essence of our souls. We also
have a demonstrative knowledge of God's existence, though our understanding cannot fully
comprehend who or what he is. We know other things through sensation. We know that our ideas
correspond to external realities because the mind cannot invent such things without experience.

State of nature:
Locke begins by developing the idea of equality of human beings in the state of nature and their
natural rights to life, liberty and the state of property. Following this description of the individual,
he develops notions of the community and the civil society. Locke states that Government is based
on the consent of the people and that legitimate government is limited, constituted by separation
of powers. To describe the origin of political power, Locke elaborated the State of Nature. Locke's
description of State of Nature was not as miserable and pessimistic as Hobbes'. It is well
established that the State of Nature is the stock in trade of all contract theories of the state. It is
conceived as a state prior to the establishment of political society. Locke considered that man is a
rational and social creature and as such capable of identifying and living in a moral order. He is
not selfish, competitive and aggressive.
The Lockean state of nature, far from being a war of all is a state of 'Peace good will, mutual
assistance and preservation". It signifies a pre-political rather than a pre-social condition. Men do
not indulge in constant warfare in it, for peace and reason overcome in it. The state of nature is
governed by a law of nature. This law "obliges every one, and reason, which is that law, teaches
all mankind, who will but consult it, that being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm
one another in his life, health, liberty or possessions for men being all the workmanship of one
almighty and infinitely wise maker. All the servants of sovereign master, sent into the world by
his order, and about his business; they are his property whose workmanship they are, made to last
during his, not one another's pleasure."
According to Locke's state of nature, men have equal natural rights to life, liberty and property
together known as Right to Property. These rights are unchallengeable and inviolable for they are
derived from the Law of Nature which is God's reason. Everyone is bound by reason not only to
preserve oneself but to preserve all mankind in so far as his own preservation does not come in
conflict with it. Men are free and equal and there is no commonly acknowledged superior whose
orders they are obliged to obey. Everybody is the judge of his own actions. But though the natural
condition is a state of liberty, it is not a state of license. Nobody has the right to destroy himself
and destroy the life of any other men. Because there is no common judge to punish the violation
of natural law in the state of nature, every individual is his own judge and has executive power of
punishing the violators of law of nature.
William Ebenstein in his 'Great Political Thinkers' composed that the law of nature in the Lockean
state of nature is lacking in three important points.
First, it is not adequately clear. If all men were guided by pure reason, they would all see the same
law. But men are biased by their interests and mistake their interests for general rule of law.
Second, there is no second party judge who has no personal state in dispute.
Third, in the state of nature, the injured party is not always strong enough to execute the law.
It can be assessed that in the Lockean state of nature, there are some short comings and
inconveniences. Absence of a law making body law enforcing agency and an impartial judicial
organ in the state of nature where the serious short comings in the state of nature. It is concluded
that the state of nature, while it is not a state of war is also not a tranquil condition, and it has to be
superseded sooner or later. Conflict and uncertainties are bound to arise on account of the selfish
tendencies in human nature. The state of nature is always in danger of being transformed into a
state or war. Where everyone is the judge in his own case and has the sole authority to punish
peace is bound to be endangered.
In spite of absence of authority, the state of nature is not a dissolute condition, as it is for Hobbes,
instead a condition of war of all against all. The state of nature is a moral condition, with a natural
law, that commands peace and sociability, determining that no one should harm another person in
their life, liberty or possessions. This state of nature for Locke is a moral state, in which natural
law dictates peace and preservation. Locke initially starts by describing the conditions under which
a 'just war' may occur in the state of nature. These natural rights of the individual and his right of
self-preservation and survival, become the elements of the 'just war' against the offender.
Locke suggested that state of war is a state of insecurity and distress, similar to Hobbesian
teachings. Despite the justification of the conflict from reason and the individual rights, the state
of war maintains its structural elements, force and violence.

A Natural Foundation of Reason:

Locke argued that God gave people the capacity for reason to support them in the search for truth.
As God's creations, we know that we must preserve ourselves. To help us, God created in us a
natural aversion to misery and a desire for happiness, so we avoid things that cause us pain and
seek out pleasure instead. We can reason that since we are all equally God's children, God must
want everyone to be happy. If one person makes another unhappy by causing him pain, that person
has excluded God's will. Therefore, each person has a responsibility to preserve other people as
well as himself. Recognizing the responsibility to preserve the rights of all humankind naturally
leads to tolerance. This notion forms the basis for Locke's belief in the separation of church and
state. If we all must come to discover the truth through reason, then no one man is naturally better
able to discover truth than any other man. For this reason, political leaders do not have the right to
impose beliefs on the people. Because everything we understand comes through experience and is
interpreted by reason, no outside force can make us understand something in conflict with our own
ideas. Locke asserted that if men were to follow the government instinctively, they would be
surrendering their own reason and thus violating God's law, or natural law.

Natural rights:
The notion of Natural rights has an important subject in Lockean political philosophy. Locke stated
that men in the state of nature possessed some natural rights like right to life, liberty and property.
These natural rights are derived from natural law and are limited by it. The freedom of man and
liberty of acting according to his will is grounded on having reason, which is able to instruct him
in that law he is to govern himself by, and make him know how far he is left to the freedom of his
own will". The end of law is not to abolish or to restrain but to preserve or enlarge freedom for in
all the states of created beings, where there is no law there is no freedom." Locke described that
Right to Property is intimately connected with right to life and liberty as its necessary consequence.
Sometimes Locke concluded all natural rights in the right to property. Life and liberty are more
important than property. Man creates property by mixing his labour with the objects of nature. In
the beginning all, things were held in common. But common ownership is not sufficient to provide
men with means of life and satisfy their needs. Man must mix his labour with resources provided
by nature to enable him to make use of them in a more efficient and profitable way. Since man
owns his own person his body and limbs, the object with which he mixes his labour becomes his
own property by right. This is the foundation of the famous labour theory of value common to both
the classical and Marxian economics. Locke does not believe that man has an unlimited right of
appropriation.
Locke defined that in the state of nature, individuals are conscious of these natural rights for they
are subject to reason. The state of nature is distinguished from the civil society by the absence in
it of a common organ for the interpretation and execution of law of nature. Therefore in the state
of nature, every individual is the interpreter and executor of law of nature. Variety in interpretation
leads to chaos and confusion and resulting insecurity of life and property. Hence, it is necessary to
replace the state of nature into civil society in which there would be a known law accepted by all
and applied by an impartial and authoritative judge whose decision would be enforced by the state.
Thus Lockean state was shaped by entering into contract by the men in the state of nature.

The Right to Private Property:

The right to private property is the foundation of Locke's political philosophy, summarising how
each man relates to God and to other men. Locke explained that man originally exists in a state of
nature in which he needs to answer only to the laws of nature. In this state of nature, men are free
to do as they please, so long as they preserve peace and maintain mankind in general. Because,
they have a right to self-preservation, it follows that they have the right to those things that will
help them to survive and make them happy. God has provided us with all the materials and we
need to pursue those ends, but these natural resources are useless until men apply their efforts to
them.
Locke recommended that because all men own their bodies completely, any product of their
physical labour also belongs to them. Consequently, when a man works on some good or material,
he becomes the owner of that good or material. The man who farms the land and has produced
food owns the land and the food that his labour created. The only restriction to private property is
that, because God wants all his children to be happy, no man can take possession of something if
he harms another in doing so. He cannot take possession of more than he can use, for example,
because he would then be wasting materials that might otherwise be used by another person.
Regrettably, the world is aggrieved by immoral men who violate these natural laws. By coming
together in the social-political compact of a community that can create and enforce laws, men are
guaranteed better protection of their property and other liberties.

Social contract:
John Locke avowed that men in the state of nature entered into a contract due to some troubles
such as absence of common law making, law-enforcing and law interpreting agency capable of
protecting natural rights. Therefore, the problem is to form a civil society by common consent of
all men and transfer their right of punishing the violators of Natural Law to an independent and
impartial authority. According to Locke, contract was an agreement of each with all, a surrender
by the individual of his personal right to fulfil the commands of the laws of Nature in return for
the guarantee that his rights as nature ordains them life, liberty and property should be well-
maintained.
Locke in his 'Two Treatises on Government' mentioned the nature of the contract. Each individual
contracts with each to unite into and constitute a community. The end for which this contract is
made is the protection and preservation of property, in the broad sense of the word, that is, life,
liberty and estate-against the dangers both from within and without the community" Lockean
contract represents that each individual agrees to give up not all his natural rights but that one of
interpreting and executing the law of nature and restoring their own grievances. But this right is
given not to any person or group of persons but the community as a whole, that too on the
understanding that the natural rights of the individual to life, liberty and property will be
guaranteed by the community.
The Lockean contract was not general as with Hobbes but restricted and specific in character.
Locke wrote in book II that "Men being as has been said by nature all free, equal and independent,
no one can be put out of this estate and subjected to the political power of another without his own
consent, which is done by agreeing with other men, to join and invite into a community for their
comfortable safe and peaceable living, one amongst another, in a secure enjoyment of their
properties, and a greater security against any that are not of it. This any number of men may do,
because it enquires not the freedom of the rest they are left, as they were, in the liberty of the state
of nature: when any number of men have so consented to make one community or government,
they are thereby presently incorporated and make one body politic, wherein the majority have a
right to act and conclude the rest". It is observed that Lockean social contract was a bond with the
community as a whole resulted in the establishment of that common political superior, the state,
which was supposed to apply the law of Nature. After they have set up a political or civil society,
the next step is to appoint a government to announce and execute the natural law. Locke denoted
this process as the supreme authority established by the commonwealth or civil society. It can be
said that there are two aspects in Lockean contract- one by which the civil society is established
and the other which creates the government. While the first is the product of a contract, the second
is only a fiduciary power to act for certain ends and there remains still in the people a supreme
power to remove or modify the legislative, when they find the legislative act contrary to the trust
reposed in them. The relationship between society and the government is conveyed by the idea of
trust because it avoids making the government a party to the contract and giving it an independent
status and authority.
Locke further elaborated that the newly formed government has three functions - legislative,
executive and federative. The legislative is the supreme power to which all other powers,
particularly executive must be subordinate. The executive power is subordinate to the legislative
and is responsible to it. The federative power is associated with foreign affairs. Though the
legislative power is supreme, it is not subjective. It exists for common good which is the
safeguarding of freedom and protection of property. Additionally, the legislative cannot rule by
arbitrary decrees, but only by duly propagated and established laws.
Lockean state is pigeonholed by certain features. Prime feature is that the "state exists for the
people who form it and not they are for it". Locke further claims that all true states must be founded
on consent of the governed. For Locke, men were by nature free, politically equal, creatures of
God subject to the laws of nature; and possessors of an executive power of the laws of nature; they
became subjects of political authority only by their consent. Without agreement, there was no
political community. Locke mentioned of two kinds of consent: express or direct and tacit consent.
Express consent was a clear commitment given at the time when the commonwealth was founded.
According to Locke, the true stat must be a constitutional state in which men recognize the rule of
law. Locke considered that there can be no political liberty if a man is subject to the inconstant,
uncertain, unknown, arbitrary will of another man. Government must be established with standing
laws, promulgated and known to the people, and not by extemporary rulings.
Locke emphasized that all true states were established by consent. He presumed that a minority
would consent in all things to rule by the majority. Locke was criticized by Filmer that legitimate
power combined power with right. A good government could not be subjective, it was bound by
the general laws which were public and not subject to individual decrees. All individuals would
be governed by the same rules as everyone else, otherwise it would isolate the natural moral
equality of individuals. He made clear that people could use force only against unjust and unlawful
authority. The right of obedience could be exercised by the majority, and not by one person or a
small group. Lockean state is limited. It is limited because it derives power from the people and
because it holds power in trust for the people. It is limited by Natural Law in general and by one
most important Natural Law in particular.
Theories of religious tolerance:
Locke developed a classic reasoning for religious tolerance in his writing, his Letters Concerning
Toleration (1689-92) in the repercussion of the European wars of religion. There were three main
arguments:

1. Earthly judges, the state in particular, and human beings generally, cannot dependably
evaluate the truth-claims of competing religious standpoints
2. Even if they could, enforcing a single "true religion" would not have the desired effect, because
belief cannot be compelled by violence
3. Forcing religious uniformity would lead to more social disorder than allowing diversity.

With reference to his position on religious tolerance, Locke was inclined by Baptist theologians
like John Smyth and Thomas Helwys, who had published tracts demanding freedom of conscience
in the early 17th century. Baptist theologian Roger Williams founded the colony Rhode Island in
1636, where he combined a democratic constitution with unlimited religious freedom. His tract
The Bloody Tenent of Persecution for Cause of Conscience (1644), which was extensively read in
the mother country, was a fervent plea for absolute religious freedom and the total separation of
church and state. Freedom of conscience had high priority on the theological, philosophical and
political agenda, since Martin Luther rejected to recant his beliefs before the Diet of the Holy
Roman Empire at Worms in 1521, unless he would be proved false by the Bible.
When assessing Locke's philosophy, it is established that Locke's political theory was created on
social contract theory. Dissimilar to Thomas Hobbes, Locke supposed that human nature is
characterised by reason and tolerance. Like Hobbes, Locke believed that human nature allowed
people to be selfish. In a natural state, all people were equal and independent, and everyone had a
natural right to defend his "Life, health, Liberty, or Possessions". Most academics trace the phrase
"life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness," in the American Declaration of Independence, to
Locke's theory of rights, though other origins have been advocated.
In the line of Hobbes, Locke presumed that the sole right to defend in the state of nature was not
enough, so people established a civil society to resolve conflicts in a civil way with help from
government in a state of society. Locke also supported governmental separation of powers and
believed that revolution is not only a right but an obligation in some circumstances. These ideas
would have thoughtful influence on the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the
United States.
To summarize, Locke has distinct position in developing political philosophy. He wrote his two
Treatises on Government against the background of natural law, natural rights, and the contract
theory. These outstanding works were published in 1690 to validate the Superb Revolution of 1688
which ousted the Roman Catholic James II and put on the throne Protestant William III and Mary.
The states of nature, war and property, are fundamental principles of lockean theory over the
political power and legitimate civil government. The people consent to leave the state of nature,
which is full of inconveniences and they enter the civil state. Within society, they establish a
government according to the will of the majority, from whom the powers derive. The highest
position of the legislative power sets the limits within which the individuals must act as part of one
body. According to Locke, the principle of 'just war' originates from the human nature and the law
of nature. When there is an absolute and arbitrary power that impends the properties of the people,
the people have a right to resist, entering a condition that is similar to the state of nature; a state of
anxiety, fear and inconveniences. After the rebellion of this arbitrary state, people have the right
to re-establish a new government and a new legislative power, creating new rules and forging a
new 'contract' to govern their lives. The new 'contract' will have the consent of the society and will
fulfil the basic purposes of the civil association and the respect and protection of the property of
each individual member of society.

Western Political Thought: Hobbes

Thomas Hobbes of Malmsbury was an English philosopher who gained popularity for his immense
contribution to political philosophy. His famous book Leviathan established social contract theory,
the foundation of later Western political philosophy. Hobbes also developed some of the basics of
European liberal thought: the right of the individual; the natural fairness of all men; the artificial
character of the political order (which led to the later distinction between civil society and the
state); the view that all reasonable political power must be "representative" and based on the
consent of the people and a liberal interpretation of law which leaves people free to do whatever
the law does not explicitly prohibit.
Among many renowned philosophers of western political thoughts, Hobbes also retained high
status as the creators of modern political philosophy and political science. His understanding of
humans as being matter and motion, following the same physical laws as other matter and motion,
remains influential; and his account of human nature as self-interested cooperation, and of political
communities as being based upon a "social contract" remains one of the major themes of political
philosophy. Moreover to political philosophy, Hobbes also contributed in other disciplines such
as history, geometry, and the physics of gases, theology, ethics, and general philosophy. Hobbes
showed that the social contract in the context of elaborating his "laws of nature," which are the
steps we must take to leave the state of nature. In calling these rules "laws of nature," Hobbes
expressively changes the traditional concept of natural law, in which nature offers moral guidance
for human behaviour. By contrast, Hobbes's laws of nature are not obligatory in his state of nature,
since, as he makes clear, seeking peace and keeping contracts in the state of nature would be self-
destructive and absurd. It can be said that acting against the laws of nature cannot simply be called
unnatural or unjust for Hobbes, nothing is naturally just, unjust, or responsible. Justice only exists
as a convention, in the context of a civil society.
Hobbes political theory is originated from psychology which is based on his mechanistic
conceptions of Nature. Hobbes, similar to Machiavelli, was concerned with the secular Orgins of
human conduct. Opposing to Aristotle and medieval intellectuals, who saw human nature as
naturally social, Hobbes observed human beings as isolated, egoistic, and self-interested and
seeking society as a means to their ends.
Hobbes stated that prior to the formation of state or common wealth, there existed state of nature.
Men in the state of nature were essentially selfish. Individuals were creations of desire, seeking
pleasure and avoiding pain. The pleasure were good and pain bad, which was why men were sought
to pursue and maximize their pleasure and avoid pain. The pleasure-pain theory was established
in a comprehensible and systematic theory of human behaviour and motivation by the Utilitarians
especially Jeremy Bentham in the 18th century. In addition to being creatures of pleasure and pain,
Hobbes saw individuals continually in motion to satisfy their desires.
Hobbes proclaimed that every human action, feeling and thought was eventually physically
determined. Though the human being was decent on his life, he was able to control these motions
up to some extent and make his life. According to Hobbes, it was reason that distinguished humans
from animals. Reason enables the individual to understand the impressions that sense organs
picked up from the external world, and also indicated an awareness of one's natural desires.
Hobbes implied that human condition in the state of nature is derived from the nature of man, his
basic psycho physical character, his sensations, emotions cravings and behaviour.
Hobbes considered that like all other things in nature, man is principally a body governed by law
of motion which pervades the entire physical world. Men in the state of nature possessed some
natural instincts like competition, shyness and glory. Men are naturally equal in mind and body.
Basic equality of man, according to Hobbes is a principal source of trouble and misery. Men have
in general equal faculties, they also cherish like hopes and desires. If two men desire the same
thing, which they cannot both obtain, they become enemies and seek to destroy each other. Hobbes
stated that passions of desire and aversion are the core cause of conflict in the state of nature.
Everybody is moved by the natural impulse of self-preservation and desire and possess the objects
or goods that are favourable to his existence.
Competition for goods of life becomes a struggle for power because without power one cannot
preserve what one has acquired. Thus it turns out to be a struggle for power after power which
ceases only in death. Sense of insecurity, fear and pride exacerbate this tragic condition. Hobbes
in his famous work Leviathan wrote thus: in the state of nature we find three principle causes of
quarrel. First, competition; second, diffidence; third, glory. The first makes men invade for gain;
the second for safety; and the third, for reputation.
Therefore, it is apparent from the above statement that what is central to Hobbes' psychology is
not hedonism but search for power and glory, riches and glory. Power is, of course, the central
feature of Hobbes' system of ideas. As Miachel Oakeshot in his Hobbesian Leviathan has indicated
that "Man is a complex of power; desire is the desire for power, pride is illusion about power,
honour opinion about power, life the unremitting exercise of power and death the absolute loss of
power." Hobbes specified that conflict is essential in human psychology. It is entrenched in man's
inordinate pride covetousness, sense of fear and insecurity etc. Hobbes also discussed another
cause of conflict which cannot be traced to psychological egoism. This relates to the difference
among men about what is good and evil, desirable and undesirable. In the state of nature, therefore,
men are in a condition of "war of every man against every man" Force and fraud the two
conditional virtues of war, flourish in this atmosphere of perpetual fear and trouble fed by three
psychological causes that include competition, diffidence and love of glory. The mutual effect of
the factors is that Hobbesian state of nature is a " war of every man against every man" The life of
man is "solitary, poor, nasty cruel and short " In this miserable image of state of nature, there can
be no goodness, justice, industry and civilization. In this state, however, there is a right of nature,
natural right of every man to everything even to one another's life.
Another significant concept of Hobbes related with state of nature is his conception of Natural
right. Hobbes elaborated that the Right of nature is the freedom each man has to use his own power
as he will himself for the preservation of his own nature, that is to say of his own life and
subsequently of doing anything in his own judgment. "The concept of natural Right is considered
to be the great contribution of Hobbes to modern political theory.
In the state of nature, individuals enjoyed complete liberty, including a natural right to everything
even to one another's bodies. The natural laws which were commands of reason. Consequently,
Hobbes argued that the laws of nature were also proper laws since they were delivered in the world
of God. These laws were counsels of prudence. Natural laws in Hobbes theory did not mean eternal
justice, perfect morality or standards to judge existing laws. They did not infer the existence of
common good for they merely created the common conditions which were necessary to fulfil each
individual good.
All through his life, Hobbes assumed that the only true and correct form of government was the
absolute kingdom. He argued this most forcefully in his landmark work, Leviathan. This belief
stemmed from the central principle of Hobbes' natural philosophy that human beings are, at their
core, selfish creatures. According to Hobbes, if man is placed in a state of nature (that is, without
any form of government), humans would be in a state of persistent warfare with one another. In
this natural state, Hobbes specified, the life of a man was solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.
Hobbes' view of human nature was formed principally by the English Civil War, which occurred
during 1642 to 1649 and ended in the beheading of King Charles I. Hobbes considered the ensuing
chaotic interregnum period, from 1649 to 1660, to be as close to that basic state of nature as humans
could get. Considering the highly dysfunctional nature of English government during that time,
Hobbes' views should come as little surprise.
Hobbes had pessimistic view of human nature. He believed the only form of government strong
enough to hold humanity's cruel impulses in check was absolute monarchy, where a king exercised
supreme and unchecked power over his subjects. While Hobbes believed in social contract theory
(that is, the theory that a ruler has an unspoken, implicit contract with his people requiring him to
reign fairly), he attributed nearly total power to the monarch, and did not believe the people to
have any right to rebellious whatsoever.
Hobbes was considered as an extremely individual thinker. He attempted through his writing to
influence the political conflicts of his day, but he managed to isolate himself even from those who
might have been inclined to side with him. During the civil war, he chose not to tone down his
rhetoric favouring absolutist monarchy as did many other monarchists. At a moment, when
everyone on the king's side was at pains to announce their support for the Church of England, he
proclaimed his distaste for the ministry. These indiscretions caused Hobbes to be expelled from
the court of King Charles when he was perhaps the most conspicuous royalist intellectual of the
day. He also differentiated himself from his royalist cohorts by claiming that the king's right to
rule came not from a divine right approved by God but from a social contract granted by the people.
This radical position has led many to consider Hobbes to be among the first "liberal" political
thinkers in Europe despite the disdain for his ideas held by liberal philosophers, due to Hobbes's
authoritarian views.
It is shown in literature that Hobbes's political philosophy was imbedded in his fundamental belief
that all of philosophy needed to be refurbished. Hobbes believed that traditional philosophy had
never been able to reach indisputable conclusions or secure universal truth and that this failure was
the cause not only of philosophical controversy but also of civil discord and even civil war. Hobbes
set out to create a philosophical system that offered secure and agreed-upon basis for all knowledge
in the universe. This totalizing philosophy, which Hobbes developed was based in the materialist
outlook that all phenomena in the universe are noticeable to the physical properties of matter and
motion. Hobbes overruled the observation of nature and the experimental method as legitimate
bases for philosophical knowledge. In this respect, he deviated from his near-contemporary Francis
Bacon, who also proposed a total reform of philosophy, but one based on the experimental method.
Instead, Hobbes suggested a purely deductive philosophy that bases its findings on previously
stated, universally agreed-upon "first principals." Hobbes sought to create a philosophy that can
fully explain everything that happens in the universe, and he produced original work that cut across
virtually every academic discipline. He involved in long intellectual disputes with figures as wide
ranging as the mathematician John Wallis, the philosopher Rene Descartes, and the scientist Robert
Boyle.
As the political background stressed, two influences are enormously marked in Hobbes's work.
The first is a reaction against religious authority as it had been known, and especially against the
scholastic philosophy that accepted and defended such authority. The second is an unfathomable
admiration for the emerging scientific method, alongside an admiration for a much older discipline,
geometry. Both influences affected how Hobbes expressed his moral and political thoughts.
Hobbes's dislike for scholastic philosophy is limitless. Leviathan and other works are scattered
with references to the "frequency of insignificant speech" in the speculations of the scholastics,
with their combinations of Christian theology and Aristotelian metaphysics. Hobbes's reaction,
apart from much savage and sparkly sarcasm, is twofold. In the first place, he makes very strong
assertions about the proper relation between religion and politics. He was not an atheist, but he
strongly insisted that theological disputes should be kept out of politics. For Hobbes, the sovereign
should determine the proper forms of religious worship, and citizens never have duties to God that
supersede their duty to obey political authority. Second, this reaction against scholasticism shapes
the presentation of Hobbes's own ideas. He insisted that terms be clearly defined and relate to
actual concrete experiences as a part of his empiricism. Critics argued how seriously to take
Hobbes's stress on the importance of definition, and whether it embodies a definite philosophical
dogma. Important factor in his moral and political thought is that he tries to avoid any metaphysical
categories that do not relate to physical realities. Reviewers further differ whether Hobbes's often
mechanical definitions of human nature and human behaviour are actually important in
determining his moral and political philosophies.
Hobbes is mainly popular as a political theorist, and he has been extremely influential in political
theory. The most durable components of his philosophy have been his appraisal of the role that
power and fear play in human relations and his attractive representation of humans in the state of
nature. Political and ethical philosophers of all kinds have had to confront his theories.
Hobbes visualized the sovereign power as undivided unlimited inalienable and permanent. The
contract created the state and the government concurrently. The sovereign power was authorized
to enact lows as it deemed fit and such laws were legitimate. Hobbes was categorical that the
powers and authority of the sovereignty had to be defined with least uncertainty.
Major attributes of Hobbesian sovereign are as under.

1. Sovereign is absolute and unlimited and accordingly no conditions, implicit or explicit, can be
imposed on it. It is not limited either by the rights of the subjects or by customary and statutory
laws.
2. Sovereignty is not a party to the covenant or contract. A sovereign does not exist prior to the
commencement of the contract. Contract was signed between in the state of nature mainly to
escape from a state of war of every man against every man. The contract is irreversible.
 3. The newly shaped sovereign can do no injury to his subjects because he is their authorized
agent. His actions cannot be illegal because he himself is the sole source of law and the laws
are subject to his interpretations.
4. No one can protest that sovereign is acting erroneously because everybody has authorized
him to act on his behalf.
5. Sovereign has absolute right to declare war and make peace, to levy taxes and to impose
penalties.
6. Sovereign is the ultimate source of all administrative, legislative and judicial authority. Hobbes
stated that law is the command of the sovereign not its counsel.
7. The sovereign has the right to allow or takes away freedom of speech and opinion.
8. The sovereign has to defend the people externally and internally for harmony and preservation
which were basis of the creation of the sovereign or Leviathan . Thus. Hobbesian sovereign
signifies the ultimate, supreme and single authority in the state and there is no right of
resistance against him except in case of self-defence. Hobbes considered that any act of
defiance of a subject is unfair because it is against the covenant. Hobbes believes that
covenants without swords are mere words. Division of sovereignty means destruction of
sovereign which means that men are returning to the old state of nature where the life is
intolerably depressed.

By allowing absolute power to the sovereign, some critics disparaged Hobbes as one of the
founding fathers of totalitarian Fascism or Communism. However, William Ebenstein in his well-
known work 'Great Political Thinkers' has opposed this charge in the following basis.
Firstly, government is set up, according to Hobbes, by a covenant that transfers all power and
authority to the sovereign. This contractual foundation of government is an abhorrence to the
modern totalitarians.
Second, Hobbes' assigns to the state some fundamental functions such as to "maintain order and
security for the benefits of the citizens". By contrast, the aim of modern totalitarian state is anti-
individualistic and anti-hedonistic.
Third, Hobbesian state is authoritarian, not totalitarian. Hobbes' appeals for equality before law so
that rich and mighty have no legal advantage over poor and obscure persons. Hobbes
'authoritarianism lacks one of the most typical features of the modern totalitarian state: inequality
before law and the resulting sense of personal insecurity.
Fourth, Hobbes maintains that the sovereign may be one man or an assembly of men whereas
modern totalitarianism is addicted to the one man leadership principle.
Fifthly, Hobbes identifies that war is one of the two main forces that drive men to set up a state.
But wherever two main force that drive men to set up a state, he speaks of war, it is protective war
and there is exaltation of war in the Leviathan. By contrast totalitarian, imperialist fascist look on
war as something highly desirable and on imperialist war as the highest form of national life.
It is apparent from debate that Hobbes' theory of sovereignty is the first systematic and consistent
statement of complete sovereignty in the history of political thought. It was Hobbes who first
advocated a principle of the absolute and unrestricted sovereignty of the state. His sovereign enjoys
an absolute authority over his subject and his powers can neither be divided nor limited either by
the law of nature or by the law of God.
In Paris, Hobbes began work on one of the most influential books ever written: Leviathan, or The
Matter, Forme and Power of a Common Wealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil (usually referred to as
simply Leviathan). Leviathan had high ranking as an essential Western treatise on statecraft, on
par with Machiavelli's The Prince.
In Leviathan, written during the English Civil Wars (1642-1651), Hobbes contends for the
necessity and natural evolution of the social contract, a social construct in which individuals jointly
unite into political societies, agreeing to accept by common rules and agree resultant duties to
protect themselves and one another from whatever might come otherwise. He also supports rule
by an absolute sovereign, saying that chaos and other situations recognised with a "state of nature"
could be avoided only by a strong central government, one with the power of the biblical
Leviathan, which would protect people from their own selfishness. He also cautioned of "the war
of all against all", a motto that went on to greater eminence and represented Hobbes' view of
humanity without government.
As Hobbes lays out his opinions on the foundation of states and legitimate government, he does it
methodically. The state is created by humans, so he first defines human nature. He stated that in
each of us can be found a representation of general humanity and that all acts are ultimately self-
serving that in a state of nature, humans would behave completely selfishly. He concludes that
humanity's natural condition is a state of perpetual war, fear and amorality, and that only
government can hold a society together.
Hobbes' Leviathan is not only a powerful expression of the theory of sovereignty but also an
influential statement of individualism. As Prof. Sabine has stated that in Hobbesian political
philosophy, both absolutism and individualism go hand in hand. Granting absolute and unlimited
power to the state is an attempt to provide a happy and enjoyable life to the individuals. Hobbes is
no liberal or democrat but he is a thorough individualist not because he believes in the sanctity of
individual man but because for him the world is and must always be made up of individuals.

Critics of Hobbs political thoughts:

Thomas Hobbes is surely one of the most contentious and normally contested political
philosophers of contemporary times. A large part of modern political philosophy is a response to
or a critique of Hobbes's works. Even the twentieth century political theorists, like Gauthier,
Kleinerman, Van Mill and others still occupy themselves mainly with interpretations of Thomas
Hobbes. Actually, the twentieth century witnessed a distinctive and exceptional increase in
scholarship on Hobbes's Leviathan and his political philosophy in general. Their critique play a
significant role in evaluating the question of attribution of power to the sovereign in Hobbes's
Leviathan; be it rightly absolute and inseparable, and thus perhaps authoritarian/totalitarian or
rather more liberal.
Hobbes, though, consistently struggles to apply scientific rules of logic to his writings and later
claims that human nature assumes the existence of state power "without which human beings will
lead unhappy lives in a perpetual state of war". However, this state being a barricade of civil
liberties, may only be realised, according to Hobbes, by total submission of people's rights and
liberties to an institution of absolute sovereign. That being the case, Hobbes does not call for
oppression or any totalitarian system of governance. Instead, some thinkers deliberated his
absolutism to be a just logical consequence. Van Mill designated that "his statements on absolute
sovereignty are about logical consistency rather than the advocacy of tyranny". Macpherson notes,
"The step immediately preceding the demonstration of the need for a sovereign able to overawe
every individual is the state of nature, or natural condition of mankind".
Hobbes is often condemned for restricting our civil liberties and unchallengeable rights by
depriving us of them in favour of the absolute sovereign. His absolute system of governance is
supposed to be mismatched with any liberal society whatsoever. It is also claimed, "the
concentration of power puts personal liberty in threat of arbitrary actions by officials"
It is assessed through his contribution to political thoughts that Hobbes remained an amazingly
prolific writer into old age, undeterred by widespread opposition to his work. He lived to the age
of eighty-nine during an era when the average life expectancy was not much older than forty. In
his eighties, Hobbes produced new English translations of both the Iliad and the Odyssey and
penned an autobiography in Latin verse. Despite the disagreement, he caused, he was something
of an institution in England by the end of his life. As abhorrent or attractive as his views may be
to readers, his radiantly articulated theories are read by people across the political spectrum.
Hobbes's ideas may be incorporated or rejected, but they are never overlooked.
To summarize, Thomas Hobbes is one of the distinguished political philosophers. His status as a
political thinker was not fully recognized until the 19 the century. His major work the "Leviathan"
is the utmost, perhaps the sole masterpiece of political philosophy written in the English language.
Leviathan a stunning success of philosophical literature is the profound logic of Hobbes'
imagination, his power as an artist. It is concluded that Hobbes' ideas are enormously influential,
form the basis of nearly all Western political thought, including the right of the individual, the
importance of republican government, and the idea that acts are allowed if they are not expressly
prohibited. The historical importance of his political philosophy cannot be ignored.

Thomas Hobbes: Moral and Political

Philosophy

The English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679)

is best known for his political thought, and deservedly so. His vision of the world is
strikingly original and still relevant to contemporary politics. His main concern is the
problem of social and political order: how human beings can live together in peace and
avoid the danger and fear of civil conflict. He poses stark alternatives: we should give our
obedience to an unaccountable sovereign (a person or group empowered to decide every
social and political issue). Otherwise what awaits us is a "state of nature" that closely
resembles civil war – a situation of universal insecurity, where all have reason to fear
violent death and where rewarding human cooperation is all but impossible.

One controversy has dominated interpretations of Hobbes. Does he see human beings as
purely self-interested or egoistic? Several passages support such a reading, leading some
to think that his political conclusions can be avoided if we adopt a more realistic picture
of human nature. However, most scholars now accept that Hobbes himself had a much
more complex view of human motivation. A major theme below will be why the problems
he poses cannot be avoided simply by taking a less "selfish" view of human nature.

Table of Contents
1. Introduction
2. Life and Times
3. Two Intellectual Influences
4. Ethics and Human Nature
a. Materialism Versus Self-Knowledge
b. The Poverty of Human Judgment and our Need for Science
c. Motivation
d. Political Philosophy
5. The Natural Condition of Mankind
. The Laws of Nature and the Social Contract
a. Why Should we Obey the Sovereign?
b. Life Under the Sovereign
6. Conclusion
7. References and Further Reading
1. Introduction
Hobbes is the founding father of modern political philosophy. Directly or indirectly, he
has set the terms of debate about the fundamentals of political life right into our own
times. Few have liked his thesis, that the problems of political life mean that a society
should accept an unaccountable sovereign as its sole political authority. Nonetheless, we
still live in the world that Hobbes addressed head on: a world where human authority is
something that requires justification, and is automatically accepted by few; a world where
social and political inequality also appears questionable; and a world where religious
authority faces significant dispute. We can put the matter in terms of the concern with
equality and rights that Hobbes's thought heralded: we live in a world where all human
beings are supposed to have rights, that is, moral claims that protect their basic interests.
But what or who determines what those rights are? And who will enforce them? In other
words, who will exercise the most important political powers, when the basic assumption
is that we all share the same entitlements?
We can see Hobbes's importance if we briefly compare him with the most famous political
thinkers before and after him. A century before, Nicolo Machiavelli had emphasized the
harsh realities of power, as well as recalling ancient Roman experiences of political
freedom. Machiavelli appears as the first modern political thinker, because like Hobbes
he was no longer prepared to talk about politics in terms set by religious faith (indeed, he
was still more offensive than Hobbes to many orthodox believers), instead, he looked
upon politics as a secular discipline divorced from theology. But unlike Hobbes,
Machiavelli offers us no comprehensive philosophy: we have to reconstruct his views on
the importance and nature of freedom; it remains uncertain which, if any, principles
Machiavelli draws on in his apparent praise of amoral power politics.

Writing a few years after Hobbes, John Locke had definitely accepted the terms of debate
Hobbes had laid down: how can human beings live together, when religious or traditional
justifications of authority are no longer effective or persuasive? How is political authority
justified and how far does it extend? In particular, are our political rulers properly as
unlimited in their powers as Hobbes had suggested? And if they are not, what system of
politics will ensure that they do not overstep the mark, do not trespass on the rights of
their subjects?
So, in assessing Hobbes's political philosophy, our guiding questions can be: What did
Hobbes write that was so important? How was he able to set out a way of thinking about
politics and power that remains decisive nearly four centuries afterwards? We can get
some clues to this second question if we look at Hobbes's life and times.

2. Life and Times

Hobbes's biography is dominated by the political events in England and Scotland during
his long life. Born in 1588, the year the Spanish Armada made its ill-fated attempt to
invade England, he lived to the exceptional age of 91, dying in 1679. He was not born to
power or wealth or influence: the son of a disgraced village vicar, he was lucky that his
uncle was wealthy enough to provide for his education and that his intellectual talents
were soon recognized and developed (through thorough training in the classics of Latin
and Greek). Those intellectual abilities, and his uncle's support, brought him to university
at Oxford. And these in turn - together with a good deal of common sense and personal
maturity - won him a place tutoring the son of an important noble family, the
Cavendishes. This meant that Hobbes entered circles where the activities of the King, of
Members of Parliament, and of other wealthy landowners were known and discussed, and
indeed influenced. Thus intellectual and practical ability brought Hobbes to a place close
to power - later he would even be math tutor to the future King Charles II. Although this
never made Hobbes powerful, it meant he was acquainted with and indeed vulnerable to
those who were. As the scene was being set for the Civil Wars of 1642-46 and 1648-51 -
wars that would lead to the King being executed and a republic being declared - Hobbes
felt forced to leave the country for his personal safety, and lived in France from 1640 to
1651. Even after the monarchy had been restored in 1660, Hobbes's security was not
always certain: powerful religious figures, critical of his writings, made moves in
Parliament that apparently led Hobbes to burn some of his papers for fear of prosecution.
Thus Hobbes lived in a time of upheaval, sharper than any England has since known. This
turmoil had many aspects and causes, political and religious, military and economic.
England stood divided against itself in several ways. The rich and powerful were divided
in their support for the King, especially concerning the monarch's powers of taxation.
Parliament was similarly divided concerning its own powers vis-à-vis the King. Society
was divided religiously, economically, and by region. Inequalities in wealth were huge,
and the upheavals of the Civil Wars saw the emergence of astonishingly radical religious
and political sects. (For instance, "the Levellers" called for much greater equality in terms
of wealth and political rights; "the Diggers," more radical still, fought for the abolition of
wage labor.) Civil war meant that the country became militarily divided. And all these
divisions cut across one another: for example, the army of the republican challenger,
Cromwell, was the main home of the Levellers, yet Cromwell in turn would act to destroy
their power within the army's ranks. In addition, England’s recent union with Scotland
was fragile at best, and was almost destroyed by King Charles I's attempts to impose
consistency in religious practices. We shall see that Hobbes's greatest fear was social and
political chaos - and he had ample opportunity both to observe it and to suffer its effects.

Although social and political turmoil affected Hobbes's life and shaped his thought, it
never hampered his intellectual development. His early position as a tutor gave him the
scope to read, write and publish (a brilliant translation of the Greek writer Thucydides
appeared in 1629), and brought him into contact with notable English intellectuals such
as Francis Bacon. His self-imposed exile in France, along with his emerging reputation as
a scientist and thinker, brought him into contact with major European intellectual figures
of his time, leading to exchange and controversy with figures such as Descartes, Mersenne
and Gassendi. Intensely disputatious, Hobbes repeatedly embroiled himself in prolonged
arguments with clerics, mathematicians, scientists and philosophers - sometimes to the
cost of his intellectual reputation. (For instance, he argued repeatedly that it is possible
to "square the circle" - no accident that the phrase is now proverbial for a problem that
cannot be solved!) His writing was as undaunted by age and ill health as it was by the
events of his times. Though his health slowly failed - from about sixty, he began to suffer
"shaking palsy," probably Parkinson’s disease, which steadily worsened - even in his
eighties he continued to dictate his thoughts to a secretary, and to defend his quarter in
various controversies.
Hobbes gained a reputation in many fields. He was known as a scientist (especially in
optics), as a mathematician (especially in geometry), as a translator of the classics, as a
writer on law, as a disputant in metaphysics and epistemology; not least, he became
notorious for his writings and disputes on religious questions. But it is for his writings on
morality and politics that he has, rightly, been most remembered. Without these, scholars
might remember Hobbes as an interesting intellectual of the seventeenth century; but few
philosophers would even recognize his name.

What are the writings that earned Hobbes his philosophical fame? The first was
entitled The Elements of Law (1640); this was Hobbes's attempt to provide arguments
supporting the King against his challengers.De Cive [On the Citizen] (1642) has much in
common with Elements, and offers a clear, concise statement of Hobbes's moral and
political philosophy. His most famous work is Leviathan, a classic of English prose (1651;
a slightly altered Latin edition appeared in 1668). Leviathan expands on the argument
of De Cive, mostly in terms of its huge second half that deals with questions of religion.
Other important works include: De Corpore [On the Body] (1655), which deals with
questions of metaphysics;De Homine [On Man] (1657); and Behemoth (published 1682,
though written rather earlier), in which Hobbes gives his account of England's Civil Wars.
But to understand the essentials of Hobbes’s ideas and system, one can rely on De
Cive and Leviathan. It is also worth noting that, although Leviathan is more famous and
more often read, De Cive actually gives a much more straightforward account of Hobbes's
ideas. Readers whose main interest is in those ideas may wish to skip the next section and
go straight to ethics and human nature.
3. Two Intellectual Influences
As well as the political background just stressed, two influences are extremely marked in
Hobbes's work. The first is a reaction against religious authority as it had been known,
and especially against the scholastic philosophy that accepted and defended such
authority. The second is a deep admiration for (and involvement in) the emerging
scientific method, alongside an admiration for a much older discipline, geometry. Both
influences affected how Hobbes expressed his moral and political ideas. In some areas it's
also clear that they significantly affected the ideas themselves.
Hobbes's contempt for scholastic philosophy is boundless. Leviathan and other works are
littered with references to the "frequency of insignificant speech" in the speculations of
the scholastics, with their combinations of Christian theology and Aristotelian
metaphysics. Hobbes's reaction, apart from much savage and sparkling sarcasm, is
twofold. In the first place, he makes very strong claims about the proper relation between
religion and politics. He was not (as many have charged) an atheist, but he was deadly
serious in insisting that theological disputes should be kept out of politics. (He also adopts
a strongly materialist metaphysics, that - as his critics were quick to charge - makes it
difficult to account for God's existence as a spiritual entity.) For Hobbes, the sovereign
should determine the proper forms of religious worship, and citizens never have duties to
God that override their duty to obey political authority. Second, this reaction against
scholasticism shapes the presentation of Hobbes's own ideas. He insists that terms be
clearly defined and relate to actual concrete experiences - part of his empiricism. (Many
early sections of Leviathan read rather like a dictionary.) Commentators debate how
seriously to take Hobbes's stress on the importance of definition, and whether it embodies
a definite philosophical doctrine. What is certain, and more important from the point of
view of his moral and political thought, is that he tries extremely hard to avoid any
metaphysical categories that don't relate to physical realities (especially the mechanical
realities of matter and motion). Commentators further disagree whether Hobbes's often
mechanical sounding definitions of human nature and human behavior are actually
important in shaping his moral and political ideas - see Materialism versus self-
knowledge below.
Hobbes's determination to avoid the "insignificant" (that is, meaningless) speech of the
scholastics also overlaps with his admiration for the emerging physical sciences and for
geometry. His admiration is not so much for the emerging method of experimental
science, but rather for deductive science - science that deduces the workings of things from
basic first principles and from true definitions of the basic elements. Hobbes therefore
approves a mechanistic view of science and knowledge, one that models itself very much
on the clarity and deductive power exhibited in proofs in geometry. It is fair to say that
this a priori account of science has found little favor after Hobbes's time. It looks rather
like a dead-end on the way to the modern idea of science based on patient observation,
theory-building and experiment. Nonetheless, it certainly provided Hobbes with
a method that he follows in setting out his ideas about human nature and politics. As
presented in Leviathan, especially, Hobbes seems to build from first elements of human
perception and reasoning, up to a picture of human motivation and action, to a deduction
of the possible forms of political relations and their relative desirability. Once more, it can
be disputed whether this method is significant in shaping those ideas, or merely provides
Hobbes with a distinctive way of presenting them.
4. Ethics and Human Nature
Hobbes's moral thought is difficult to disentangle from his politics. On his view, what we
ought to do depends greatly on the situation in which we find ourselves. Where political
authority is lacking (as in his famous natural condition of mankind), our fundamental right
seems to be to save our skins, by whatever means we think fit. Where political authority
exists, our duty seems to be quite straightforward: to obey those in power.
But we can usefully separate the ethics from the politics if we follow Hobbes's own
division. For him ethics is concerned with human nature, while political philosophy deals
with what happens when human beings interact. What, then, is Hobbes's view of human
nature?

a. Materialism Versus Self-Knowledge

Reading the opening chapters of Leviathan is a confusing business, and the reason for this
is already apparent in Hobbes's very short "Introduction." He begins by telling us that the
human body is like a machine, and that political organization ("the commonwealth") is
like an artificial human being. He ends by saying that the truth of his ideas can be gauged
only by self-examination, by looking into our selves to adjudge our characteristic thoughts
and passions, which form the basis of all human action. But what is the relationship
between these two very different claims? For obviously when we look into our selves we
do not see mechanical pushes and pulls. This mystery is hardly answered by Hobbes's
method in the opening chapters, where he persists in talking about all manner of
psychological phenomena - from emotions to thoughts to whole trains of reasoning – as
products of mechanical interactions. (As to what he will say about successful political
organization, the resemblance between the commonwealth and a functioning human
being is slim indeed. Hobbes's only real point seems to be that there should be a "head"
that decides most of the important things that the "body" does.)
Most commentators now agree with an argument made in the 1960's by the political
philosopher Leo Strauss. Hobbes draws on his notion of a mechanistic science, that works
deductively from first principles, in setting out his ideas about human nature. Science
provides him with a distinctive method and some memorable metaphors and similes.
What it does not provide - nor could it, given the rudimentary state of physiology and
psychology in Hobbes's day - are any decisive or substantive ideas about what human
nature really is. Those ideas may have come, as Hobbes also claims, from self-
examination. In all likelihood, they actually derived from his reflection on contemporary
events and his reading of classics of political history such as Thucydides.
This is not to say that we should ignore Hobbes's ideas on human nature - far from it. But
it does mean we should not be misled by scientific imagery that stems from an in fact non-
existent science (and also, to some extent, from an unproven and uncertain metaphysics).
The point is important mainly when it comes to a central interpretative point in Hobbes's
work: whether or not he thinks of human beings as mechanical objects, programmed as it
were to pursue their self-interest. Some have suggested that Hobbes's mechanical world-
view leaves no room for the influence of moral ideas, that he thinks the only effective
influence on our behavior will be incentives of pleasure and pain. But while it is true that
Hobbes sometimes says things like this, we should be clear that the ideas fit together only
in a metaphorical way. For example, there's no reason why moral ideas shouldn’t "get
into" the mechanisms that drive us round (like so many clock-work dolls perhaps?).
Likewise, there's no reason why pursuing pleasure and pain should work in our self-
interest. (What self-interest is depends on the time-scale we adopt, and how effectively
we might achieve this goal also depends on our insight into what harms and benefits us).
If we want to know what drives human beings, on Hobbes's view, we must read carefully
all he says about this, as well as what he needs to assume if the rest of his thought is to
make sense. The mechanistic metaphor is something of a red herring and, in the end,
probably less useful than his other starting point inLeviathan, the Delphic epithet: nosce
teipsum, "know thyself."
b. The Poverty of Human Judgment and our Need for
Science
There are two major aspects to Hobbes's picture of human nature. As we have seen, and
will explore below, what motivates human beings to act is extremely important to Hobbes.
The other aspect concerns human powers of judgment and reasoning, about which
Hobbes tends to be extremely skeptical. Like many philosophers before him, Hobbes
wants to present a more solid and certain account of human morality than is contained in
everyday beliefs. Plato had contrasted knowledge with opinion. Hobbes
contrasts science with a whole raft of less reliable forms of belief - from probable inference
based on experience, right down to "absurdity, to which no living creature is subject but
man" (Leviathan, v.7).
Hobbes has several reasons for thinking that human judgment is unreliable, and needs to
be guided by science. Our judgments tend to be distorted by self-interest or by the
pleasures and pains of the moment. We may share the same basic passions, but the
various things of the world affect us all very differently; and we are inclined to use our
feelings as measures for others. It becomes dogmatic through vanity and morality, as with
"men vehemently in love with their own new opinions…and obstinately bent to maintain
them, [who give] their opinions also that reverenced name of conscience" (Leviathan,
vii.4). When we use words which lack any real objects of reference, or are unclear about
the meaning of the words we use, the danger is not only that our thoughts will be
meaningless, but also that we will fall into violent dispute. (Hobbes has scholastic
philosophy in mind, but he also makes related points about the dangerous effects of faulty
political ideas and ideologies.) We form beliefs about supernatural entities, fairies and
spirits and so on, and fear follows where belief has gone, further distorting our judgment.
Judgment can be swayed this way and that by rhetoric, that is, by the persuasive and
"colored" speech of others, who can deliberately deceive us and may well have purposes
that go against the common good or indeed our own good. Not least, much judgment is
concerned with what we should do now, that is, with future events, "the future being but
a fiction of the mind" (Leviathan, iii.7) and therefore not reliably known to us.
For Hobbes, it is only science, "the knowledge of consequences" (Leviathan, v.17), that
offers reliable knowledge of the future and overcomes the frailties of human judgment.
Unfortunately, his picture of science, based on crudely mechanistic premises and
developed through deductive demonstrations, is not even plausible in the physical
sciences. When it comes to the complexities of human behavior, Hobbes's model of
science is even less satisfactory. He is certainly an acute and wise commentator of political
affairs; we can praise him for his hard-headedness about the realities of human conduct,
and for his determination to create solid chains of logical reasoning. Nonetheless, this
does not mean that Hobbes was able to reach a level of "scientific" certainty in his
judgments that had been lacking in all previous reflection on morals and politics.
c. Motivation
The most consequential aspect of Hobbes's account of human nature centers on his ideas
about human motivation, and this topic is therefore at the heart of many debates about
how to understand Hobbes's philosophy. Many interpreters have presented the
Hobbesian agent as a self-interested, rationally calculating actor (those ideas have been
important in modern political philosophy and economic thought, especially in terms
of rational choice theories). It is true that some of the problems that face people like this -
rational egoists, as philosophers call them - are similar to the problems Hobbes wants to
solve in his political philosophy. And it is also very common for first-time readers of
Hobbes to get the impression that he believes we're all basically selfish.
There are good reasons why earlier interpreters and new readers tend to think the
Hobbesian agent is ultimately self-interested. Hobbes likes to make bold and even
shocking claims to get his point across. "I obtained two absolutely certain postulates of
human nature," he says, "one, the postulate of human greed by which each man insists
upon his own private use of common property; the other, the postulate of natural reason,
by which each man strives to avoid violent death" (De Cive, Epistle Dedicatory). What
could be clearer? - We want all we can get, and we certainly want to avoid death. There
are two problems with thinking that this is Hobbes's considered view, however. First,
quite simply, it represents a false view of human nature. People do all sorts of altruistic
things that go against their interests. They also do all sorts of needlessly cruel things that
go against self-interest (think of the self-defeating lengths that revenge can run to). So it
would be uncharitable to interpret Hobbes this way, if we can find a more plausible
account in his work. Second, in any case Hobbes often relies on a more sophisticated view
of human nature. He describes or even relies on motives that go beyond or against self-
interest, such as pity, a sense of honor or courage, and so on. And he frequently
emphasizes that we find it difficult to judge or appreciate just what our interests are
anyhow. (Some also suggest that Hobbes's views on the matter shifted away from egoism
after De Cive, but the point is not crucial here.)
The upshot is that Hobbes does not think that we are basically or reliably selfish; and he
does not think we are fundamentally or reliably rational in our ideas about what is in our
interests. He is rarely surprised to find human beings doing things that go against self-
interest: we will cut off our noses to spite our faces, we will torture others for their eternal
salvation, we will charge to our deaths for love of country. In fact, a lot of the problems
that befall human beings, according to Hobbes, result from their being too littleconcerned
with self-interest. Too often, he thinks, we are too much concerned with what others think
of us, or inflamed by religious doctrine, or carried away by others' inflammatory words.
This weakness as regards our self-interest has even led some to think that Hobbes is
advocating a theory known as ethical egoism. This is to claim that Hobbes bases morality
upon self-interest, claiming that we ought to do what it is most in our interest to do. But
we shall see that this would over-simplify the conclusions that Hobbes draws from his
account of human nature.
d. Political Philosophy
This is Hobbes's picture of human nature. We are needy and vulnerable. We are easily led
astray in our attempts to know the world around us. Our capacity to reason is as fragile
as our capacity to know; it relies upon language and is prone to error and undue influence.
When we act, we may do so selfishly or impulsively or in ignorance, on the basis of faulty
reasoning or bad theology or others' emotive speech.

What is the political fate of this rather pathetic sounding creature - that is, of us?
Unsurprisingly, Hobbes thinks little happiness can be expected of our lives together. The
best we can hope for is peaceful life under an authoritarian-sounding sovereign. The
worst, on Hobbes's account, is what he calls the "natural condition of mankind," a state
of violence, insecurity and constant threat. In outline, Hobbes's argument is that the
alternative to government is a situation no one could reasonably wish for, and that any
attempt to make government accountable to the people must undermine it, so threatening
the situation of non-government that we must all wish to avoid. Our only reasonable
option, therefore, is a "sovereign" authority that is totally unaccountable to its subjects.
Let us deal with the "natural condition" of non-government, also called the "state of
nature," first of all.
5. The Natural Condition of Mankind
The state of nature is "natural" in one specific sense only. For Hobbes political authority
is artificial: in the "natural" condition human beings lack government, which is an
authority created by men. What is Hobbes's reasoning here? He claims that the only
authority that naturally exists among human beings is that of a mother over her child,
because the child is so very much weaker than the mother (and indebted to her for its
survival). Among adult human beings this is invariably not the case. Hobbes concedes an
obvious objection, admitting that some of us are much stronger than others. And although
he's very sarcastic about the idea that some are wiser than others, he doesn't have much
difficulty with the idea that some are fools and others are dangerously cunning.
Nonetheless, it's almost invariably true that every human being is capable of killing any
other. Even the strongest must sleep; even the weakest might persuade others to help him
kill another. (Leviathan, xiii.1-2) Because adults are "equal" in this capacity to threaten
one another’s lives, Hobbes claims there is no natural source of authority to order their
lives together. (He is strongly opposing arguments that established monarchs have a
natural or God-given right to rule over us.)
Thus, as long as human beings have not successfully arranged some form of government,
they live in Hobbes's state of nature. Such a condition might occur at the "beginning of
time" (see Hobbes’s comments on Cain and Abel, Leviathan, xiii.11, Latin version only), or
in "primitive" societies (Hobbes thought the American Indians lived in such a condition).
But the real point for Hobbes is that a state of nature could just as well occur in
seventeenth century England, should the King's authority be successfully undermined. It
could occur tomorrow in every modern society, for example, if the police and army
suddenly refused to do their jobs on behalf of government. Unless some effective
authority stepped into the King's place (or the place of army and police and government),
Hobbes argues the result is doomed to be deeply awful, nothing less than a state of war.
Why should peaceful cooperation be impossible without an overarching authority?
Hobbes provides a series of powerful arguments that suggest it is extremely unlikely that
human beings will live in security and peaceful cooperation without government.
(Anarchism, the thesis that we should live without government, of course disputes these
arguments.) His most basic argument is threefold. (Leviathan, xiii.3-9) (i) He thinks we
will compete, violently compete, to secure the basic necessities of life and perhaps to make
other material gains. (ii) He argues that we will challenge others and fight out of fear
("diffidence"), so as to ensure our personal safety. (iii) And he believes that we will seek
reputation ("glory"), both for its own sake and for its protective effects (for example, so
that others will be afraid to challenge us).
This is a more difficult argument than it might seem. Hobbes does not suppose that we
are all selfish, that we are all cowards, or that we are all desperately concerned with how
others see us. Two points, though. First, he does think that some of us are selfish, some of
us cowardly, and some of us "vainglorious" (perhaps some people are of all of these!).
Moreover, many of these people will be prepared to use violence to attain their ends -
especially if there's no government or police to stop them. In this Hobbes is surely correct.
Second, in some situations it makes good sense, at least in the short term, to use violence
and to behave selfishly, fearfully or vaingloriously. If our lives seem to be at stake, after
all, we're unlikely to have many scruples about stealing a loaf of bread; if we perceive
someone as a deadly threat, we may well want to attack first, while his guard is down; if
we think that there are lots of potential attackers out there, it's going to make perfect sense
to get a reputation as someone who shouldn't be messed with. In Hobbes’s words, "the
wickedness of bad men also compels good men to have recourse, for their own protection,
to the virtues of war, which are violence and fraud." (De Cive, Epistle Dedicatory) As well
as being more complex than first appears, Hobbes's argument becomes very difficult to
refute.
Underlying this most basic argument is an important consideration about insecurity. As
we shall see Hobbes places great weight on contracts (thus some interpreters see Hobbes
as heralding a market society dominated by contractual exchanges). In particular, he
often speaks of "covenants," by which he means a contract where one party performs his
part of the bargain later than the other. In the state of nature such agreements aren't going
to work. Only the weakest will have good reason to perform the second part of a covenant,
and then only if the stronger party is standing over them. Yet a huge amount of human
cooperation relies on trust, that others will return their part of the bargain over time. A
similar point can be made about property, most of which we can't carry about with us and
watch over. This means we must rely on others respecting our possessions over extended
periods of time. If we can't do this, then many of the achievements of human society that
involve putting hard work into land (farming, building) or material objects (the crafts, or
modern industrial production, still unknown in Hobbes's time) will be near impossible.
One can reasonably object to such points: Surely there are basic duties to reciprocate fairly
and to behave in a trustworthy manner? Even if there's no government providing a
framework of law, judgment and punishment, don't most people have a reasonable sense
of what is right and wrong, which will prevent the sort of contract-breaking and
generalized insecurity that Hobbes is concerned with? Indeed, shouldn't our basic sense
of morality prevent much of the greed, pre-emptive attack and reputation-seeking that
Hobbes stressed in the first place? This is the crunch point of Hobbes's argument, and it
is here (if anywhere) that one can accuse Hobbes of "pessimism." He makes two claims.
The first concerns our duties in the state of nature (that is, the so-called "right of nature").
The second follows from this, and is less often noticed: it concerns the danger posed by
our different and variable judgments of what is right and wrong.

On Hobbes's view the right of nature is quite simple to define. Naturally speaking - that
is, outside of civil society – we have a right to do whatever we think will ensure our self-
preservation. The worst that can happen to us is violent death at the hands of others. If
we have any rights at all, if (as we might put it) nature has given us any rights whatsoever,
then the first is surely this: the right to prevent violent death befalling us. But Hobbes says
more than this, and it is this point that makes his argument so powerful. We do not just
have a right to ensure our self-preservation: we each have a right to judge what will ensure
our self-preservation. And this is where Hobbes's picture of humankind becomes
important. Hobbes has given us good reasons to think that human beings rarely judge
wisely. Yet in the state of nature no one is in a position to successfully define what is good
judgment. If I judge that killing you is a sensible or even necessary move to safeguard my
life, then - in Hobbes's state of nature – I have a right to kill you. Others might judge the
matter differently, of course. Almost certainly you'll have quite a different view of things
(perhaps you were just stretching your arms, not raising a musket to shoot me). Because
we're all insecure, because trust is more-or-less absent, there's little chance of our sorting
out misunderstandings peacefully, nor can we rely on some (trusted) third party to decide
whose judgment is right. We all have to be judges in our own causes, and the stakes are
very high indeed: life or death.
For this reason Hobbes makes very bold claims that sound totally amoral. "To this war of
every man against every man," he says, "this also is consequent [i.e., it follows]: that
nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and wrong, justice and injustice have no place
[in the state of nature]." (Leviathan, xiii.13) He further argues that in the state of nature
we each have a right to all things, "even to one another's body’ (Leviathan, xiv.4). Hobbes
is dramatizing his point, but the core is defensible. If I judge that I need such and such -
an object, another person's labor, another person’s death - to ensure my continued
existence, then in the state of nature, there is no agreed authority to decide whether I'm
right or wrong. New readers of Hobbes often suppose that the state of nature would be a
much nicer place, if only he were to picture human beings with some basic moral ideas.
But this is naïve: unless people share the same moral ideas, not just at the level of general
principles but also at the level of individual judgment, then the challenge he poses remains
unsolved: human beings who lack some shared authority are almost certain to fall into
dangerous and deadly conflict.
There are different ways of interpreting Hobbes's view of the absence of moral constraints
in the state of nature. Some think that Hobbes is imagining human beings who have no
idea of social interaction and therefore no ideas about right and wrong. In this case, the
natural condition would be a purely theoretical construction, and would demonstrate
what both government and society do for human beings. (A famous statement about the
state of nature in De Cive (viii.1) might support this interpretation: "looking at men as if
they had just emerged from the earth like mushrooms and grown up without any
obligation to each other…") Another, complementary view reads Hobbes as
a psychological egoist, so that - in the state of nature as elsewhere – he is merely describing
the interaction of ultimately selfish and amoral human beings.
Others suppose that Hobbes has a much more complex picture of human motivation, so
that there is no reason to think moral ideas are absent in the state of nature. In particular,
it's historically reasonable to think that Hobbes invariably has civil war in mind, when he
describes our "natural condition." If we think of civil war, we need to imagine people
who’ve lived together and indeed still do live together - huddled together in fear in their
houses, banded together as armies or guerrillas or groups of looters. The problem here
isn't a lack of moral ideas - far from it – rather that moral ideas and judgments differ
enormously. This means (for example) that two people who are fighting tooth and nail
over a cow or a gun can both think they're perfectly entitled to the object and both think
they're perfectly right to kill the other - a point Hobbes makes explicitly and often. It also
enables us to see that many Hobbesian conflicts are about religious ideas or political
ideals (as well as self-preservation and so on) - as in the British Civil War raging while
Hobbes wrote Leviathan, and in the many violent sectarian conflicts throughout the world
today.
In the end, though, whatever account of the state of nature and its (a) morality we
attribute to Hobbes, we must remember that it is meant to function as a powerful and
decisive threat: if we do not heed Hobbes's teachings and fail to respect existing political
authority, then the natural condition and its horrors of war await us.
a. The Laws of Nature and the Social Contract
Hobbes thinks the state of nature is something we ought to avoid, at any cost except our
own self-preservation (this being our "right of nature," as we saw above). But what sort of
"ought" is this? There are two basic ways of interpreting Hobbes here. It might be a
counsel of prudence: avoid the state of nature, if you're concerned to avoid violent death.
In this case Hobbes's advice only applies to us (i) if we agree that violent death is what we
should fear most and should therefore avoid; and (ii) if we agree with Hobbes that only
an unaccountable sovereign stands between human beings and the state of nature. This
line of thought fits well with an egoistic reading of Hobbes, but we'll see that it faces
serious problems.
The other way of interpreting Hobbes is not without problems either. This takes Hobbes
to be saying that we ought, morally speaking, to avoid the state of nature. We have a duty
to do what we can to avoid this situation arising, and a duty to end it, if at all possible.
Hobbes often makes his view clear, that we have such moral obligations. But then two
difficult questions arise: Why these obligations? And why are they obligatory?
Hobbes frames the issues in terms of an older vocabulary, using the idea of natural
law that many ancient and medieval philosophers had relied on. Like them, he thinks that
human reason can discern some eternal principles to govern our conduct. These
principles are independent of (though also complementary to) whatever moral
instruction we might get from God or religion. In other words, they are laws given by
nature rather than revealed by God. But Hobbes makes radical changes to the content of
these so-called laws of nature. In particular, he doesn't think that natural law provides
any scope whatsoever to criticize or disobey the actual laws made by a government. He
thus disagrees with those Protestants who thought that religious conscience might
sanction disobedience of "immoral" laws, and with Catholics who thought that the
commandments of the Pope have primacy over those of national political authorities.
Although he sets out nineteen laws of nature, it is the first two that are politically crucial.
A third, that stresses the important of keeping to contracts we have entered into, is
important in Hobbes's moral justifications of obedience to the sovereign. (The remaining
sixteen can be quite simply encapsulated in the formula, "do as you would be done by."
While the details are important for scholars of Hobbes, they do not affect the overall
theory and will be ignored here.)

The first law reads as follows:

Every man ought to endeavor peace, as far as he has hope of obtaining it, and when he cannot
obtain it, that he may seek and use all helps and advantages of war. (Leviathan, xiv.4)
This repeats the points we have already seen about our "right of nature," so long as peace
does not appear to be a realistic prospect. The second law of nature is more complicated:

That a man be willing, when others are so too, as far-forth as for peace and defense of himself
he shall think it necessary, to lay down this right to all things, and be contented with so much
liberty against other men, as he would allow other men against himself. (Leviathan, xiv.5)
What Hobbes tries to tackle here is the transition from the state of nature to civil society.
But how he does this is misleading and has generated much confusion and disagreement.
The way that Hobbes describes this second law of nature makes it look as if we should all
put down our weapons, give up (much of) our "right of nature," and jointly authorize a
sovereign who will tell us what is permitted and punish us if we don't obey. But the
problem is obvious. If the state of nature is anything like as bad as Hobbes has argued, then
there's just no way people could ever make an agreement like this or put it into practice.
At the end of Leviathan, Hobbes seems to concede this point, saying "there is scarce a
commonwealth in the world whose beginnings can in conscience be justified" ("Review
and Conclusion," 8). That is: governments have invariably been foisted upon people by
force and fraud, not by collective agreement. But Hobbes means to defend every existing
government that is powerful enough to secure peace among its subjects - not just a
mythical government that's been created by a peaceful contract out of a state of nature.
His basic claim is that we should behave as if we had voluntarily entered into such a
contract with everyone else in our society - everyone else, that is, except the sovereign
authority.
In Hobbes's myth of the social contract, everyone except the person or group who will
wield sovereign power lays down their "right to all things." They agree to limit drastically
their right of nature, retaining only a right to defend their lives in case of immediate
threat. (How limited this right of nature becomes in civil society has caused much dispute,
because deciding what is an immediate threat is a question of judgment. It certainly
permits us to fight back if the sovereign tries to kill us. But what if the sovereign conscripts
us as soldiers? What if the sovereign looks weak and we doubt whether he can continue
to secure peace…?) The sovereign, however, retains his (or her, or their) right of nature,
which we have seen is effectively a right to all things - to decide what everyone else should
do, to decide the rules of property, to judge disputes and so on. Hobbes concedes that
there are moral limits on what sovereigns should do (God might call a sovereign to
account). However, since in any case of dispute the sovereign is the only rightful judge -
on this earth, that is – those moral limits make no practical difference. In every moral and
political matter, the decisive question for Hobbes is always: who is to judge? As we have seen,
in the state of nature, each of us is judge in our own cause, part of the reason why Hobbes
thinks it is inevitably a state of war. Once civil society exists, the only rightful judge is the
sovereign.
b. Why Should we Obey the Sovereign?
If we had all made a voluntary contract, a mutual promise, then it might seem half-way
plausible to think we have an obligation to obey the sovereign (although even this requires
the claim that promising is a moral value that overrides all others). If we have been
conquered or, more fortunately, have simply been born into a society with an established
political authority, this seems quite improbable. Hobbes has to make three steps here, all
of which have seemed weak to many of his readers. First of all, he insists that promises
made under threat of violence are nonetheless freely made, and just as binding as any
others. Second, he has to put great weight on the moral value of promise keeping, which
hardly fits with the absence of duties in the state of nature. Third, he has to give a story of
how those of us born and raised in a political society have made some sort of implied
promise to each other to obey, or at least, he has to show that we are bound (either morally
or out of self-interest) to behave as if we had made such a promise.

In the first place, Hobbes draws on his mechanistic picture of the world, to suggest that
threats of force do not deprive us of liberty. Liberty, he says, is freedom of motion, and I
am free to move whichever way I wish, unless I am literally enchained. If I yield to threats
of violence, that is my choice, for physically I could have done otherwise. If I obey the
sovereign for fear of punishment or in fear of the state of nature, then that is equally my
choice. Such obedience then comes, for Hobbes, to constitute a promise that I will
continue to obey.

Second, promises carry a huge moral weight for Hobbes, as they do in all social
contract theories. The question, however, is why we should think they are so important.
Why should my (coerced) promise oblige me, given the wrong you committed in
threatening me and demanding my valuables? Hobbes has no good answer to this
question (but see below, on egoistic interpretations of Hobbes's thinking here). His theory
suggests that (in the state of nature) you could do me no wrong, as the right of nature
dictates that we all have a right to all things. Likewise, promises do not oblige in the state
of nature, inasmuch as they go against our right of nature. In civil society, the sovereign's
laws dictate what is right and wrong; if your threat was wrongful, then my promise will
not bind me. But as the sovereign is outside of the original contract, he sets the terms for
everyone else: so his threats create obligations.
As this suggests, Hobbesian promises are strangely fragile. Implausibly binding so long
as a sovereign exists to adjudicate and enforce them, they lose all power should things
revert to a state of nature. Relatedly, they seem to contain not one jot of loyalty. To be
logically consistent, Hobbes needs to be politically implausible. Now there are passages
where Hobbes sacrifices consistency for plausibility, arguing we have a duty to fight for
our (former) sovereign even in the midst of civil war. Nonetheless the logic of his theory
suggests that, as soon as government starts to weaken and disorder sets in, our duty of
obedience lapses. That is, when the sovereign power needs our support, because it is no
longer able to coerce us, there is no effective judge or enforcer of covenants, so that such
promises no longer override our right of nature. This turns common sense on its head.
Surely a powerful government can afford to be challenged, for instance by civil
disobedience or conscientious objection? But when civil conflict and the state of nature
threaten, in other words when government is failing, then we might reasonably think that
political unity is as morally important as Hobbes always suggests. A similar question of
loyalty also comes up when the sovereign power has been usurped - when Cromwell has
supplanted the King, when a foreign invader has ousted our government. Right from the
start, Hobbes's critics saw that his theory makes turncoats into moral heroes: our
allegiance belongs to whoever happens to be holding the gun(s). Perversely, the only
crime the makers of a coup can commit is to fail.

Why does this problem come about? To overcome the fact that his contract is a fiction,
Hobbes is driven to construct a "sort of" promise out of the fact of our subjugation to
whatever political authority exists. He stays wedded to the idea that obedience can only
find a moral basis in a "voluntary" promise, because only this seems to justify the almost
unlimited obedience and renunciation of individual judgment he's determined to prove.
It is no surprise that Hobbes's arguments creak at every point: nothing could bear the
weight of justifying such an overriding duty.
All the difficulties in finding a reliable moral obligation to obey might tempt us back to
the idea that Hobbes is some sort of egoist. However, the difficulties with this tack are
even greater. There are two sorts of egoism commentators have attributed to Hobbes:
psychological and ethical. The first theory says that human beings always act egoistically,
the second that they ought to act egoistically. Either view might support this simple idea:
we should obey the sovereign, because his political authority is what keeps us from the
evils of the natural condition. But the basic problem with such egoistic interpretations,
from the point of view of Hobbes's system of politics, is shown when we think about cases
where selfishness seems to conflict with the commands of the sovereign - for example,
where illegal conduct will benefit us or keep us from danger. For a psychologically egoist
agent, such behavior will be irresistible; for an ethically egoist agent, it will be morally
obligatory. Now, providing the sovereign is sufficiently powerful and well-informed, he
can prevent many such cases arising by threatening and enforcing punishments of those
who disobey. Effective threats of punishment mean that obedience is in our self-
interest. But such threats will not be effective when we think our disobedience can go
undetected. After Orwell's 1984 we can imagine a state that is so powerful that no
reasonable person would ever think disobedience could pay. But for Hobbes, such a
powerful sovereign was not even conceivable: he would have had to assume that there
would be many situations where people could reasonably hope to "get away with it."
(Likewise, under non-totalitarian, liberal politics, there are many situations where illegal
behavior is very unlikely to be detected or punished.) So, still thinking of egoistic agents,
the more people do get away with it, the more reason others have to think they can do the
same. Thus the problem of disobedience threatens to "snowball," undermining the
sovereign and plunging selfish agents back into the chaos of the state of nature.
In other words, sovereignty as Hobbes imagined it, and liberal political authority as we
know it, can only function where people feel some additional motivation apart from pure
self-interest. Moreover, there is strong evidence that Hobbes was well aware of this. Part
of Hobbes's interest in religion (a topic that occupies half of Leviathan) lies in its power to
shape human conduct. Sometimes this does seem to work through self-interest, as in
crude threats of damnation and hell-fire. But Hobbes's main interest lies in the educative
power of religion, and indeed of political authority. Religious practices, the doctrines
taught in the universities (!), the beliefs and habits inculcated by the institutions of
government and society: how these can encourage and secure respect for law and
authority seem to be even more important to Hobbes's political solutions than his
theoretical social contract or shaky appeals to simple self-interest.
What are we to conclude, then, given the difficulties in finding a reliable moral or selfish
justification for obedience? In the end, for Hobbes, everything rides on the value of peace.
Hobbes wants to say both that civil order is in our "enlightened" self-interest, and that it
is of overwhelming moral value. Life is never going to be perfect for us, and life under the
sovereign is the best we can do. Recognizing this aspect ofeveryone's self-interest should
lead us to recognize the moral value of supporting whatever authority we happen to live
under. For Hobbes, this moral value is so great - and the alternatives so stark – that it
should override every threat to our self-interest except the imminent danger of death. The
million-dollar question is then: is a life of obedience to the sovereign really the best
human beings can hope for?
c. Life Under the Sovereign
Hobbes has definite ideas about the proper nature, scope and exercise of sovereignty.
Much that he says is cogent, and much of it can reduce the worries we might have about
living under this drastically authoritarian sounding regime. Many commentators have
stressed, for example, the importance Hobbes places upon the rule of law. His claim that
much of our freedom, in civil society, "depends on the silence of the laws" is often quoted
(Leviathan, xxi.18). In addition, Hobbes makes many points that are obviously aimed at
contemporary debates about the rights of King and Parliament - especially about the
sovereign's rights as regards taxation and the seizure of property, and about the proper
relation between religion and politics. Some of these points continue to be relevant, others
are obviously anachronistic: evidently Hobbes could not have imagined the modern state,
with its vast bureaucracies, massive welfare provision and complicated interfaces with
society. Nor could he have foreseen how incredibly powerful the state might become,
meaning that "sovereigns" such as Hitler or Stalin might starve, brutalize and kill their
subjects, to such an extent that the state of nature looks clearly preferable.
However, the problem with all of Hobbes's notions about sovereignty is that - on his
account – it is not Hobbes the philosopher, nor we the citizens, who decide what counts
as the proper nature, scope or exercise of sovereignty. He faces a systematic problem:
justifying any limits or constraints on the sovereign involves making judgments about
moral or practical requirements. But one of his greatest insights, still little recognized by
many moral philosophers, is that any right or entitlement is only practically meaningful
when combined with a concrete judgment as to what it dictates in some given case.
Hobbes's own failure, however understandable, to foresee the growth of government and
its powers only supports this thought: that the proper nature, scope or exercise of
sovereignty is a matter of complex judgment. Alone among the people who comprise
Hobbes's commonwealth, it is the sovereign who judges what form he should appear in,
how far he should reach into the lives of his subjects, and how he should exercise his
powers.
It should be added that the one part of his system that Hobbes concedes not to be proven
with certainty is just this question: who or what should constitute the sovereign power. It
was natural for Hobbes to think of a King, or indeed a Queen (he was born under Elizabeth
I). But he was certainly very familiar with ancient forms of government, including
aristocracy (government by an elite) and democracy (government by the citizens, who
formed a relatively small group within the total population). Hobbes was also aware that
an assembly such as Parliament could constitute a sovereign body. All have advantages
and disadvantages, he argues. But the unity that comes about from having a single person
at the apex, together with fixed rules of succession that pre-empt dispute about who this
person should be, makes monarchy Hobbes's preferred option.

In fact, if we want to crack open Hobbes's sovereign, to be able to lay down concrete ideas
about its nature and limits, we must begin with the question of judgment. For Hobbes,
dividing capacities to judge between different bodies is tantamount to letting the state of
nature straight back in. "For what is it to divide the power of a commonwealth, but to
dissolve it; for powers divided mutually destroy each other." (Leviathan, xxix.12; cf De Cive,
xii.5) Beyond the example of England in the 1640s, Hobbes hardly bothers to argue the
point, although it is crucial to his entire theory. Always in his mind is the Civil War that
arose when Parliament claimed the right to judge rules of taxation, and thereby prevented
the King from ruling and making war as he saw fit, and when churches and religious sects
claimed prerogatives that went against the King's decisions.
Especially given modern experiences of the division of powers, however, it's easy to see
that these examples are extreme and atypical. We might recall the American constitution,
where powers of legislation, execution and case-by-case judgment are separated (to
Congress, President and the judiciary respectively) and counter-balance one another.
Each of these bodies is responsible for judging different questions. There are often, of
course, boundary disputes, as to whether legislative, executive or judicial powers should
apply to a given issue, and no one body is empowered to settle this crucial question of
judgment. Equally obviously, however, such disputes have not led to a state of nature
(well, at least if we think of the US after the Civil War). For Hobbes it is simply axiomatic
that disputation as to who should judge important social and political issues spells the
end of the commonwealth. For us, it is equally obvious that only a few extreme forms of
dispute have this very dangerous power. Dividing the powers that are important to
government need not leave a society more open to those dangerous conflicts. Indeed,
many would now argue that political compromises which provide different groups and
bodies with independent space to judge certain social or political issues can be crucial
for preventing disputes from escalating into violent conflict or civil war.
6. Conclusion
What happens, then, if we do not follow Hobbes in his arguments that judgment must, by
necessity or by social contract or both, be the sole province of the sovereign? If we are
optimists about the power of human judgment, and about the extent of moral consensus
 among human beings, we have a straightforward route to the concerns of modern
liberalism. Our attention will not be on the question of social and political order, rather
on how to maximize liberty, how to define social justice, how to draw the limits of
government power, and how to realize democratic ideals. We will probably interpret
Hobbes as a psychological egoist, and think that the problems of political order that
obsessed him were the product of an unrealistic view of human nature, or unfortunate
historical circumstances, or both. In this case, I suggest, we might as well not have read
Hobbes at all.

If we are less optimistic about human judgment in morals and politics, however, we
should not doubt that Hobbes's problems remain our problems. But hindsight shows
grave limitations to his solutions. Theoretically, Hobbes fails to prove that we have an
almost unlimited obligation to obey the sovereign. His arguments that sovereignty - the
power to judge moral and political matters, and enforce those judgments - cannot be
divided are not only weak; they are simply refuted by the (relatively) successful
distribution of powers in modern liberal societies. Not least, the horrific crimes of
twentieth century dictatorships show beyond doubt that judgment about right and wrong
cannot be a question only for our political leaders.

If Hobbes's problems are real and his solutions only partly convincing, where will we go?
It might reasonably be thought that this is the central question of modern political
thought. We will have no doubt that peaceful coexistence is one of the greatest goods of
human life, something worth many inconveniences, sacrifices and compromises. We will
see that there is moral force behind the laws and requirements of the state, simply because
human beings do indeed need authority and systems of enforcement if they are to
cooperate peacefully. But we can hardly accept that, because human judgment is weak
and faulty, that there can be only one judge of these matters - precisely because that judge
might turn out to be very faulty indeed. Our concern will be how we can effectively divide
power between government and people, while still ensuring that important questions of
moral and political judgment are peacefully adjudicated. We will be concerned with the
standards and institutions that provide for compromise between many different and
conflicting judgments. And all the time, we will remember Hobbes's reminder that human
life is never without inconvenience and troubles, that we must live with a certain amount
of bad, to prevent the worst: fear of violence, and violent death.

7. References and Further Reading

 Edwards, Alistair (2002) "Hobbes" in Interpreting Modern Political Philosophy: From Machiavelli to Marx,
eds. A Edwards and J Townshend (Palgrave Macmillan, Houndmills)
 A very helpful overview of key interpretative debates about Hobbes in the twentieth century.
 Hill, Christopher (1961/1980) The Century of Revolution, 1603-1714, second ed (Routledge, London)
 The classic work on the history and repercussions of England's civil war.
 Hobbes, Thomas (1998 [1642]) On the Citizen, ed & trans Richard Tuck and Michael Silverthorne
(Cambridge University Press, Cambridge)
 The best translation of Hobbes's most straightforward book,De Cive.
 Hobbes, Thomas (1994 [1651/1668]) Leviathan, ed Edwin Curley (Hackett, Indianapolis)
 The best edition of Hobbes's magnum opus, including extensive additional material and many
important variations (ignored by all other editions) between the English text and later Latin edition.
 Sorrell, Tom (1986) Hobbes (Routledge & Kegan Paul, London)
 A concise and well-judged account of Hobbes's life and works.
 Sorrell, Tom, ed (1996) The Cambridge Companion to Hobbes (Cambridge University Press, Cambridge)
 An excellent set of essays on all aspects of Hobbes's intellectual endeavors.

Immanuel Kant

Towards the end of his most influential work, Critique

of Pure Reason(1781/1787), Kant argues that all philosophy ultimately aims at
answering these three questions: “What can I know? What should I do? What may I
hope?” The book appeared at the beginning of the most productive period of his career,
and by the end of his life Kant had worked out systematic, revolutionary, and often
profound answers to these questions.
At the foundation of Kant’s system is the doctrine of “transcendental idealism,” which
emphasizes a distinction between what we can experience (the natural, observable world)
and what we cannot (“supersensible” objects such as God and the soul). Kant argued that
we can only have knowledge of things we can experience. Accordingly, in answer to the
question, “What can I know?” Kant replies that we can know the natural, observable
world, but we cannot, however, have answers to many of the deepest questions of
metaphysics.

Kant’s ethics are organized around the notion of a “categorical imperative,” which is a
universal ethical principle stating that one should always respect the humanity in others,
and that one should only act in accordance with rules that could hold for everyone. Kant
argued that the moral law is a truth of reason, and hence that all rational creatures are
bound by the same moral law. Thus in answer to the question, “What should I do?” Kant
replies that we should act rationally, in accordance with a universal moral law.
Kant also argued that his ethical theory requires belief in free will, God, and the
immortality of the soul. Although we cannot have knowledge of these things, reflection
on the moral law leads to a justified belief in them, which amounts to a kind rational faith.
Thus in answer to the question, “What may I hope?” Kant replies that we may hope that
our souls are immortal and that there really is a God who designed the world in
accordance with principles of justice.

In addition to these three focal points, Kant also made lasting contributions to nearly all
areas of philosophy. His aesthetic theory remains influential among art critics. His theory
of knowledge is required reading for many branches of analytic philosophy. The
cosmopolitanism behind his political theory colors discourse about globalization and
international relations. And some of his scientific contributions are even considered
intellectual precursors to several ideas in contemporary cosmology.

This article presents an overview of these and other of Kant’s most important
philosophical contributions. It follows standard procedures for citing Kant’s works.
Passages from Critique of Pure Reason are cited by reference to page numbers in both the
1781 and 1787 editions. Thus “(A805/B833)” refers to page 805 in the 1781 edition and
833 in the 1787 edition. References to the rest of Kant’s works refer to the volume and
page number of the official Deutsche Akademie editions of Kant’s works. Thus “(5:162)”
refers to volume 5, page 162 of those editions.

Table of Contents
1. Life
2. Metaphysics and Epistemology
a. Pre-Critical Thought
b. Dogmatic Slumber, Synthetic A Priori Knowledge, and the Copernican Shift
c. The Cognitive Faculties and Their Representations
d. Transcendental Idealism
i. The Ideality of Space and Time
ii. Appearances and Things in Themselves
e. The Deduction of the Categories
f. Theory of Experience
g. Critique of Transcendent Metaphysics
. The Soul (Paralogisms of Pure Reason)
i. The World (Antinomies of Pure Reason)
ii. God (Ideal of Pure Reason)
3. Philosophy of Mathematics
4. Natural Science
. Physics
a. Other Scientific Contributions
5. Moral Theory
. The Good Will and Duty
a. The Categorical Imperative
 b. Postulates of Practical Reason
6. Political Theory and Theory of Human History
. Human History and the Age of Enlightenment
a. Political Theory
b. Perpetual Peace
7. Theory of Art and Beauty
. The Beautiful and the Sublime
a. Theory of Art
b. Relation to Moral Theory
8. Pragmatic Anthropology
9. References and Further Reading
. Primary Literature
a. Secondary Literature
1. Life
Kant was born in 1724 in the Prussian city of Königsberg (now Kaliningrad in Russia). His
parents – Johann Georg and Anna Regina – were pietists. Although they raised Kant in
this tradition (an austere offshoot of Lutheranism that emphasized humility and divine
grace), he does not appear ever to have been very sympathetic to this kind of religious
devotion. As a youth, he attended the Collegium Fridericianum in Königsberg, after which
he attended the University of Königsberg. Although he initially focused his studies on the
classics, philosophy soon caught and held his attention. The rationalism of Gottfried
Leibniz (1646-1716) and Christian Wolff (1679-1754) was most influential on him during
these early years, but Kant was also introduced to Isaac Newton’s (1642-1727) writings
during this time.

His mother had died in 1737, and after his father’s death in 1746 Kant left the University
to work as a private tutor for several families in the countryside around the city. He
returned to the University in 1754 to teach as a Privatdozent, which meant that he was
paid directly by individual students, rather than by the University. He supported himself
in this way until 1770. Kant published many essays and other short works during this
period. He made minor scientific contributions in astronomy, physics, and earth science,
and wrote philosophical treatises engaging with the Leibnizian-Wolffian traditions of the
day (many of these are discussed below). Kant’s primary professional goal during this
period was to eventually attain the position of Professor of Logic and Metaphysics at
Königsberg. He finally succeeded in 1770 (at the age of 46) when he completed his second
dissertation (the first had been published in 1755), which is now referred to as
the Inaugural Dissertation.

Commentators divide Kant’s career into the “pre-critical” period before 1770 and the
“critical” period after. After the publication of the Inaugural Dissertation, Kant published
hardly anything for more than a decade (this period is referred to as his “silent decade”).
However, this was anything but a fallow period for Kant. After discovering and being
shaken by the radical skepticism of Hume’s empiricism in the early 1770s, Kant undertook
a massive project to respond to Hume. He realized that this response would require a
complete reorientation of the most fundamental approaches to metaphysics and
epistemology. Although it took much longer than initially planned, his project came to
fruition in 1781 with the publication of the first edition of Critique of Pure Reason

The 1780s would be the most productive years of Kant’s career. In addition to writing
the Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics (1783) as a sort of introduction to
the Critique, Kant wrote important works in ethics (Groundwork for the Metaphysics of
Morals, 1785, and Critique of Practical Reason, 1788), he applied his theoretical
philosophy to Newtonian physical theory (Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science,
1786), and he substantially revised the Critique of Pure Reason in 1787. Kant capped the
decade with the publication of the third and final critique, Critique of the Power of
Judgment (1790).

Although the products of the 1780s are the works for which Kant is best known, he
continued to publish philosophical writings through the 1790s as well. Of note during this
period are Religion within the Bounds of Mere Reason (1793), Towards Perpetual
Peace (1795), Metaphysics of Morals (1797), and Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point
of View (1798). The Religion was attended with some controversy, and Kant was
ultimately led to promise the King of Prussia (Friedrich Wilhelm II) not to publish
anything else on religion. (Kant considered the promise null and void after the king died
in 1797.) During his final years, he devoted himself to completing the critical project with
one final bridge to physical science. Unfortunately, the encroaching dementia of Kant’s
final years prevented him from completing this book (partial drafts are published under
the title Opus Postumum).
Kant never married and there are many stories that paint him as a quirky but dour
eccentric. These stories do not do him justice. He was beloved by his friends and
colleagues. He was consistently generous to all those around him, including his servants.
He was universally considered a lively and engaging dinner guest and (later in life) host.
And he was a devoted and popular teacher throughout the five decades he spent in the
classroom. Although he had hoped for a small, private ceremony, when he died in 1804,
age 79, his funeral was attended by the thousands who wished to pay their respects to “the
sage of Königsberg.”

2. Metaphysics and Epistemology

The most important element of Kant’s mature metaphysics and epistemology is his
doctrine of transcendental idealism, which received its fullest discussion in Critique of
Pure Reason (1781/87). Transcendental idealism is the thesis that the empirical world
that we experience (the “phenomenal” world of “appearances”) is to be distinguished from
the world of things as they are in themselves. The most significant aspect of this
distinction is that while the empirical world exists in space and time, things in themselves
are neither spatial nor temporal. Transcendental idealism has wide-ranging
consequences. On the positive side, Kant takes transcendental idealism to entail an
“empirical realism,” according to which humans have direct epistemic access to the
natural, physical world and can even have a priori cognition of basic features of all
possible experienceable objects. On the negative side, Kant argues that we cannot have
knowledge of things in themselves. Further, since traditional metaphysics deals with
things in themselves, answers to the questions of traditional metaphysics (for example,
regarding God or free will) can never be answered by human minds.
This section addresses the development of Kant’s metaphysics and epistemology and then
summarizes the most important arguments and conclusions of Kant’s theory.

a. Pre-Critical Thought
Critique of Pure Reason, the book that would alter the course of western philosophy, was
written by a man already far into his career. Unlike the later “critical period” Kant, the
philosophical output of the early Kant was fully enmeshed in the German rationalist
tradition, which was dominated at the time by the writings of Gottfried Leibniz (1646-
1716) and Christian Wolff (1679-1754). Nevertheless, many of Kant’s concerns during the
pre-critical period anticipate important aspects of his mature thought.

Kant’s first purely philosophical work was the New Elucidation of the First Principles of
Metaphysical Cognition (1755). The first parts of this long essay present criticisms and
revisions of the Wolffian understanding of the basic principles of metaphysics, especially
the Principles of Identity (whatever is, is, and whatever is not, is not), of Contradiction
(nothing can both be and not be), and of Sufficient Reason (nothing is true without a
reason why it is true). In the final part, Kant defends two original principles of
metaphysics. According to the “Principle of Succession,” all change in objects requires the
mutual interaction of a plurality of substances. This principle is a metaphysical analogue
of Newton’s principle of action and reaction, and it anticipates Kant’s argument in the
Third Analogy of Experience from Critique of Pure Reason (see 2f below). According to
the “Principle of Coexistence,” multiple substances can only be said to coexist within the
same world if the unity of that world is grounded in the intellect of God. Although Kant
would later claim that we can never have metaphysical cognition of this sort of relation
between God and the world (not least of all because we can’t even know that God exists),
he would nonetheless continue to be occupied with the question of how multiple distinct
substances can constitute a single, unified world.

In the Physical Monadology (1756), Kant attempts to provide a metaphysical account of

the basic constitution of material substance in terms of “monads.” Leibniz and Wolff had
held that monads are the simple, atomic substances that constitute matter. Kant follows
Wolff in rejecting Leibniz’s claim that monads are mindlike and that they do not interact
with each other. The novel aspect of Kant’s account lies in his claim that each monad
possesses a degree of both attractive and repulsive force, and that monads fill determinate
volumes of space because of the interactions between these monads as they compress each
other through their opposed repulsive forces. Thirty years later, in the Metaphysical
Foundations of Natural Science (1786), Kant would develop the theory that matter must
be understood in terms of interacting attractive and repulsive forces. The primary
difference between the later view and the earlier is that Kant no longer appeals to monads,
or simple substances at all (transcendental idealism rules out the possibility of simplest
substances as constituents of matter; see 2gii below).
The final publication of Kant’s pre-critical period was On the Form and Principles of the
Sensible and the Intelligible World, also referred to as the Inaugural Dissertation (1770),
since it marked Kant’s appointment as Königsberg’s Professor of Logic and Metaphysics.
Although Kant had not yet had the final crucial insights that would lead to the
development of transcendental idealism, many of the important elements of his mature
metaphysics are prefigured here. Two aspects of the Inaugural Dissertation are
especially worth noting. First, in a break from his predecessors, Kant distinguishes two
fundamental faculties of the mind: sensibility, which represents the world through
singular “intuitions,” and understanding, which represents the world through general
“concepts.” In the Inaugural Dissertation, Kant argues that sensibility represents the
sensible world of “phenomena” while the understanding represents an intelligible world
of “noumena.” The critical period Kant will deny that we can have any determinate
knowledge of noumena, and that knowledge of phenomena requires the cooperation of
sensibility and understanding together. Second, in describing the “form” of the sensible
world, Kant argues that space and time are “not something objective and real,” but are
rather “subjective and ideal” (2:403). The claim that space and time pertain to things only
as they appear, not as they are in themselves, will be one of the central theses of Kant’s
mature transcendental idealism.

b. Dogmatic Slumber, Synthetic A Priori Knowledge,

and the Copernican Shift
Although the early Kant showed a complete willingness to dissent from many important
aspects of the Wolffian orthodoxy of the time, Kant continued to take for granted the basic
rationalist assumption that metaphysical cognition was possible. In a retrospective
remark from the Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics (1783), Kant says that his faith
in this rationalist assumption was shaken by David Hume (1711-1776), whose skepticism
regarding the possibility of knowledge of causal necessary connections awoke Kant from
his “dogmatic slumber” (4:260). Hume argued that we can never have knowledge of
necessary connections between causes and effects because such knowledge can neither be
given through the senses, nor derived a priori as conceptual truths. Kant realized that
Hume’s problem was a serious one because his skepticism about knowledge of the
necessity of the connection between cause and effect generalized to all metaphysical
knowledge pertaining to necessity, not just causation specifically. For instance, there is
the question why mathematical truths necessarily hold true in the natural world, or the
question whether we can know that a being (God) exists necessarily.

The solution to Hume’s skepticism, which would form the basis of the critical philosophy,
was twofold. The first part of Kant’s solution was to agree with Hume that metaphysical
knowledge (such as knowledge of causation) is neither given through the senses, nor is it
known a priori through conceptual analysis. Kant argued, however, that there is a third
kind of knowledge which is a priori, yet which is not known simply by analyzing concepts.
He referred to this as “synthetic a priori knowledge.” Where analytic judgments are
justified by the semantic relations between the concepts they mention (for example, “all
bachelors are unmarried”), synthetic judgments are justified by their conformity to the
given object that they describe (for example, “this ball right here is red”). The puzzle posed
by the notion of synthetic a priori knowledge is that it would require that an object be
presented to the mind, but not be given in sensory experience.

The second part of Kant’s solution is to explain how synthetic a priori knowledge could
be possible. He describes his key insight on this matter as a “Copernican” shift in his
thinking about the epistemic relation between the mind and the world. Copernicus had
realized that it only appeared as though the sun and stars revolved around us, and that
we could have knowledge of the way the solar system really was if we took into account
the fact that the sky looks the way it does because we perceivers are moving. Analogously,
Kant realized that we must reject the belief that the way things appear corresponds to the
way things are in themselves. Furthermore, he argued that the objects of knowledge can
only ever be things as they appear, not as they are in themselves. Appealing to this new
approach to metaphysics and epistemology, Kant argued that we must investigate the
most basic structures of experience (that is, the structures of the way things appear to us),
because the basic structures of experience will coincide with the basic structures of any
objects that could possibly be experienced. In other words, if it is only possible to have
experience of an object if the object conforms to the conditions of experience, then
knowing the conditions of experience will give us knowledge – synthetic a
priori knowledge in fact – of every possible object of experience. Kant overcomes Hume’s
skepticism by showing that we can have synthetic a priori knowledge of objects in general
when we take as the object of our investigation the very form of a possible object of
experience. Critique of Pure Reason is an attempt to work through all of the important
details of this basic philosophical strategy.

c. The Cognitive Faculties and Their Representations

Kant’s theory of the mind is organized around an account of the mind’s powers, its
“cognitive faculties.” One of Kant’s central claims is that the cognitive capacities of the
mind depend on two basic and fundamentally distinct faculties. First, there is
“sensibility.” Sensibility is a passive faculty because its job is to receive representations
through the affection of objects on the senses. Through sensibility, objects are “given” to
the mind. Second, there is “understanding,” which is an active faculty whose job is to
“think” (that is, apply concepts to) the objects given through sensibility.

The most basic type of representation of sensibility is what Kant calls an “intuition.” An
intuition is a representation that refers directly to a singular individual object. There are
two types of intuitions. Pure intuitions are a priori representations of space and time
themselves (see 2d1 below). Empirical intuitions are a posteriori representations that
refer to specific empirical objects in the world. In addition to possessing a spatiotemporal
“form,” empirical intuitions also involve sensation, which Kant calls the “matter” of
intuition (and of experience generally). (Without sensations, the mind could never have
thoughts about real things, only possible ones.) We have empirical intuitions both of
objects in the physical world (“outer intuitions”) and objects in our own minds (“inner
intuitions”).
The most basic type of representation of understanding is the “concept.” Unlike an
intuition, a concept is a representation that refers generally to indefinitely many objects.
(For instance, the concept ‘cat’ on its own could refer to any and all cats, but not to any
one in particular.) Concepts refer to their objects only indirectly because they depend on
intuitions for reference to particular objects. As with intuitions, there are two basic types
of concepts. Pure concepts are a priori representations and they characterize the most
basic logical structure of the mind. Kant calls these concepts “categories.” Empirical
concepts are a posteriori representations, and they are formed on the basis of sensory
experience with the world. Concepts are combined by the understanding into
“judgments,” which are the smallest units of knowledge. I can only have full cognition of
an object in the world once I have, first, had an empirical intuition of the object, second,
conceptualized this object in some way, and third, formed my conceptualization of the
intuited object into a judgment. This means that both sensibility and understanding must
work in cooperation for knowledge to be possible. As Kant expresses it, “Thoughts without
content are empty, intuitions without concepts are blind” (A51/B75).

There are two other important cognitive faculties that must be mentioned. The first is
transcendental “imagination,” which mediates between sensibility and understanding.
Kant calls this faculty “blind” because we do not have introspective access to its
operations. Kant says that we can at least know that it is responsible for forming intuitions
in such a way that it is possible for the understanding to apply concepts to them. The other
is “reason,” which operates in a way similar to the understanding, but which operates
independently of the senses. While understanding combines the data of the senses into
judgments, reason combines understanding’s judgments together into one coherent,
unified, systematic whole. Reason is not satisfied with mere disconnected bits of
knowledge. Reason wants all knowledge to form a system of knowledge. Reason is also
the faculty responsible for the “illusions” of transcendent metaphysics (see 2g below).

d. Transcendental Idealism
Transcendental idealism is a theory about the relation between the mind and its objects.
Three fundamental theses make up this theory: first, there is a distinction between
appearances (things as they appear) and things as they are in themselves. Second, space
and time are a priori, subjective conditions on the possibility of experience, and hence
they pertain only to appearances, not to things in themselves. Third, we can have
determinate cognition of only of things that can be experienced, hence only of
appearances, not things in themselves.

A quick remark on the term “transcendental idealism” is in order. Kant typically uses the
term “transcendental” when he wants to emphasize that something is a condition on the
possibility of experience. So for instance, the chapter titled “Transcendental Analytic of
Concepts” deals with the concepts without which cognition of an object would be
impossible. Kant uses the term “idealism” to indicate that the objects of experience are
mind-dependent (although the precise sense of this mind-dependence is controversial;
see 2d2 below). Hence, transcendental idealism is the theory that it is a condition on the
possibility of experience that the objects of experience be in some sense mind-dependent.
i. The Ideality of Space and Time
Kant argues that space and time are a priori, subjective conditions on the possibility of
experience, that is, that they are transcendentally ideal. Kant grounds the distinction
between appearances and things in themselves on the realization that, as subjective
conditions on experience, space and time could only characterize things as they appear,
not as they are in themselves. Further, the claim that we can only know appearances (not
things in themselves) is a consequence of the claims that we can only know objects that
conform to the conditions of experience, and that only spatiotemporal appearances
conform to these conditions. Given the systematic importance of this radical claim, what
were Kant’s arguments for it? What follows are some of Kant’s most important arguments
for the thesis.

One argument has to do with the relation between sensations and space. Kant argues that
sensations on their own are not spatial, but that they (or arguably the objects they
correspond to) are represented in space, “outside and next to one another” (A23/B34).
Hence, the ability to sense objects in space presupposes the a priori representation of
space, which entails that space is merely ideal, hence not a property of things in
themselves.

Another argument that Kant makes repeatedly during the critical period can be called the
“argument from geometry.” Its two premises are, first, that the truths of geometry are
necessary truths, and thus a priori truths, and second, that the truths of geometry are
synthetic (because these truths cannot be derived from an analysis of the meanings of
geometrical concepts). If geometry, which is the study of the structure of space, is
synthetic a priori, then its object – space – must be a mere a priori representation and
not something that pertains to things in themselves. (Kant’s theory of mathematical
cognition is discussed further in 3b below.)

Many commentators have found these arguments less than satisfying because they
depend on the questionable assumption that if the representations of space and time are a
priori they thereby cannot be properties of things in themselves. “Why can’t it be both?”
many want to ask. A stronger argument appears in Kant’s discussion of the First and
Second Antinomies of Pure Reason (discussed below, 2g2). There Kant argues that if
space and time were things in themselves or even properties of things in themselves, then
one could prove that space and time both are and are not infinitely large, and that matter
in space both is and is not infinitely divisible. In other words, the assumption that space
and time are transcendentally real instead of transcendentally ideal leads to a
contradiction, and thus space and time must be transcendentally ideal.

ii. Appearances and Things in Themselves

How Kant’s distinction between appearances and things in themselves should be
understood is one of the most controversial topics in the literature. It is a question of
central importance because how one understands this distinction determines how one
will understand the entire nature of Kantian idealism. The following briefly summarizes
the main interpretive options, but it does not take a stand on which is correct.
According to “two-world” interpretations, the distinction between appearances and
things in themselves is to be understood in metaphysical and ontological terms.
Appearances (and hence the entire physical world that we experience) comprise one set
of entities, and things in themselves are an ontologically distinct set of entities. Although
things in themselves may somehow cause us to have experience of appearances, the
appearances we experience are not things in themselves.

According to “one-world” or “two-aspect” interpretations, the distinction between

appearances and things in themselves is to be understood in epistemological terms.
Appearances are ontologically the very same things as things in themselves, and the
phrase “in themselves” simply means “not considered in terms of their epistemic relation
to human perceivers.”

A common objection against two-world interpretations is that they may make Kant’s
theory too similar to Berkeley’s immaterialist idealism (an association from which Kant
vehemently tried to distance himself), and they seem to ignore Kant’s frequent
characterization of the appearance/thing in itself distinction in terms of different
epistemic standpoints. And a common objection against one-world interpretations is that
they may trivialize some of the otherwise revolutionary aspects of Kant’s theory, and they
seem to ignore Kant’s frequent characterization of the appearance/thing in itself
distinction in seemingly metaphysical terms. There have been attempts at interpretations
that are intermediate between these two options. For instance, some have argued that
Kant only acknowledges one world, but that the appearance/thing in itself distinction is
nevertheless metaphysical, not merely epistemological.

e. The Deduction of the Categories

After establishing the ideality of space and time and the distinction between appearances
and things in themselves, Kant goes on to show how it is possible to have a
priori cognition of the necessary features of appearances. Cognizing appearances requires
more than mere knowledge of their sensible form (space and time); it also requires that
we be able to apply certain concepts (for example, the concept of causation) to
appearances. Kant identifies the most basic concepts that we can use to think about
objects as the “pure concepts of understanding,” or the “categories.”

There are twelve categories in total, and they fall into four groups of three:
The task of the chapter titled “Transcendental Deduction of the Categories” is to show
that these categories can and must be applied in some way to any object that could
possibly be an object of experience. The argument of the Transcendental Deduction is one
of the most important moments in the Critique, but it is also one of the most difficult,
complex, and controversial arguments in the book. Hence, it will not be possible to
reconstruct the argument in any detail here. Instead, Kant’s most important claims and
moves in the Deduction are described.

Kant’s argument turns on conceptions of self-consciousness (or what he calls

“apperception”) as a condition on the possibility of experiencing the world as a unified
whole. Kant takes it to be uncontroversial that we can be aware of our representations as
our representations. It is not just that I can have the thoughts ‘P’ or ‘Q’; I am also always
able to ascribe these thoughts to myself: ‘I think P’ and ‘I think Q’. Further, we are also
able to recognize that it is the same I that does the thinking in both cases. Thus, we can
recognize that ‘I think both P and Q’. In general, all of our experience is unified because
it can be ascribed to the one and same I, and so this unity of experience depends on the
unity of the self-conscious I. Kant next asks what conditions must obtain in order for this
unity of self-consciousness to be possible. His answer is that we must be able to
differentiate between the I that does the thinking and the object that we think about. That
is, we must be able to distinguish between subjective and objective elements in our
experience. If we could not make such a distinction, then all experience would just be so
many disconnected mental happenings: everything would be subjective and there would
be no “unity of apperception” that stands over and against the various objects represented
by the I. So next Kant needs to explain how we are able to differentiate between the
subjective and objective elements of experience. His answer is that a representation is
objective when the subject is necessitated in representing the object in a certain way, that
is, when it is not up to the free associative powers of my imagination to determine how I
represent it. For instance, whether I think a painting is attractive or whether it calls to
mind an instance from childhood depends on the associative activity of my own
imagination; but the size of the canvas and the chemical composition of the pigments is
not up to me: insofar as I represent these as objective features of the painting, I am
necessitated in representing them in a certain way. In order for a representational content
to be necessitated in this way, according to Kant, is for it to be subject to a “rule.” The
relevant rules that Kant has in mind are the conditions something must satisfy in order
for it to be represented as an object at all. And these conditions are precisely the concepts
laid down in the schema of the categories, which are the concepts of an “object in general.”
Hence, if I am to have experience at all, I must conceptualize objects in terms of the a
priori categories.

Kant’s argument in the Deduction is a “transcendental argument”: Kant begins with a

premise accepted by everyone, but then asks what conditions must have been met in order
for this premise to be true. Kant assumed that we have a unified experience of the many
objects populating the world. This unified experience depends on the unity of
apperception. The unity of apperception enables the subject to distinguish between
subjective and objective elements in experience. This ability, in turn, depends on
representing objects in accordance with rules, and the rules in question are the categories.
Hence, the only way we can explain the fact that we have experience at all is by appeal to
the fact that the categories apply to the objects of experience.

It is worth emphasizing how truly radical the conclusion of the Transcendental Deduction
is. Kant takes himself to have shown that all of nature is subject to the rules laid down by
the categories. But these categories are a priori: they originate in the mind. This means
that the order and regularity we encounter in the natural world is made possible by the
mind’s own construction of nature and its order. Thus the conclusion of the
Transcendental Deduction parallels the conclusion of the Transcendental Aesthetic:
where the latter had shown that the forms of sensibility (space and time) originate in the
mind and are imposed on the world, the former shows that the forms of understanding
(the categories) also originate in the mind and are imposed on the world.

f. Theory of Experience
The Transcendental Deduction showed that it is necessary for us to make use of the
categories in experience, but also that we are justified in making use of them. In the
following series of chapters (together labeled the Analytic of Principles) Kant attempts to
leverage the results of the Deduction and prove that there are transcendentally necessary
laws that every possible object of experience must obey. He refers to these as “principles
of pure understanding.” These principles are synthetic a priori in the sense defined above
(see 2b), and they are transcendental conditions on the possibility of experience.

The first two principles correspond to the categories of quantity and quality. First, Kant
argues that every object of experience must have a determinate spatial shape and size and
a determinate temporal duration (except mental objects, which have no spatial
determinations). Second, Kant argues that every object of experience must contain a
“matter” that fills out the object’s extensive magnitude. This matter must be describable
as an “intensive magnitude.” Extensive magnitudes are represented through the intuition
of the object (the form of the representation) and intensive magnitudes are represented
by the sensations that fill out the intuition (the matter of the representation).

The next three principles are discussed in an important, lengthy chapter called the
Analogies of Experience. They derive from the relational categories: substance, causality,
and community. According to the First Analogy, experience will always involve objects
that must be represented as substances. “Substance” here is to be understood in terms of
an object that persists permanently as a “substratum” and which is the bearer of
impermanent “accidents.” According to the Second Analogy, every event must have a
cause. One event is said to be the cause of another when the second event follows the first
in accordance with a rule. And according to the Third Analogy (which presupposes the
first two), all substances stand in relations of reciprocal interaction with each other. That
is, any two pieces of material substance will effect some degree of causal influence on each
other, even if they are far apart.
The principles of the Analogies of Experience are important metaphysical principles, and
if Kant’s arguments for them are successful, they mark significant advances in the
metaphysical investigation of nature. The First Analogy is a form of the principle of the
conservation of matter: it shows that matter can never be created or annihilated by
natural means, it can only be altered. The Second Analogy is a version of the principle of
sufficient reason applied to experience (causes being sufficient reasons for their effects),
and it represents Kant’s refutation of Hume’s skepticism regarding causation. Hume had
argued that we can never have knowledge of necessary connections between events;
rather, we can only perceive certain types of events to be constantly conjoined with other
types of events. In arguing that events follow each other in accordance with rules, Kant
has shown how we can have knowledge of necessary connections between events above
and beyond their mere constant conjunction. Lastly, Kant probably intended the Third
Analogy to establish a transcendental, a priori basis for something like Newton’s law of
universal gravitation, which says that no matter how far apart two objects are they will
exert some degree of gravitational influence on each other.

The Postulates of Empirical Thinking in General contains the final set of principles of pure
understanding and they derive from the modal categories (possibility, actuality,
necessity). The Postulates define the different ways to represent the modal status of
objects, that is, what it is for an object of experience to be possible, actual, or necessary.

The most important passage from the Postulates chapter is the Refutation of Idealism,
which is a refutation of external world skepticism that Kant added to the 1787 edition of
the Critique. Kant had been annoyed by reviews of the first edition that unfavorably
compared his transcendental idealism with Berkeley’s immaterialist idealism. In the
Refutation, Kant argues that his system entails not just that an external (that is, spatial)
world is possible (which Berkeley denied), but that we can know it is real (which Descartes
and others questioned). Kant’s argumentative strategy in the Refutation is ingenious but
controversial. Where the skeptics assume that we have knowledge of the states of our own
minds, but say that we cannot be certain that an external world corresponds to these
states, Kant turns the tables and argues that we would not have knowledge of the states
of our own minds (specifically, the temporal order in which our ideas occur) if we were
not simultaneously aware of permanent substances in space, outside of the mind. The
precise structure of Kant’s argument, as well as the question how successful it is,
continues to be a matter of heated debate in the literature.

g. Critique of Transcendent Metaphysics

One of the most important upshots of Kant’s theory of experience is that it is possible to
have knowledge of the world because the world as we experience it conforms to the
conditions on the possibility of experience. Accordingly, Kant holds that there can be
knowledge of an object only if it is possible for that object to be given in an experience.
This aspect of the epistemological condition of the human subject entails that there are
important areas of inquiry about which we would like to have knowledge, but cannot.
Most importantly, Kant argued that transcendent metaphysics, that is, philosophical
inquiry into “supersensible” objects that are not a part of the empirical world, marks a
philosophical dead end. (Note: There is a subtle but important difference between the
terms “transcendental” and “transcendent” for Kant. “Transcendental” describes
conditions on the possibility of experience. “Transcendent” describes unknowable objects
in the “noumenal” realm of things in themselves.)

Kant calls the basic concepts of metaphysical inquiry “ideas.” Unlike concepts of the
understanding, which correspond to possible objects that can be given in experience,
ideas are concepts of reason, and they do not correspond to possible objects of experience.
The three most important ideas with which Kant is concerned in the Transcendental
Dialectic are the soul, the world (considered as a totality), and God. The peculiar thing
about these ideas of reason is that reason is led by its very structure to posit objects
corresponding to these ideas. It cannot help but do this because reason’s job is to unify
cognitions into a systematic whole, and it finds that it needs these ideas of the soul, the
world, and God, in order to complete this systematic unification. Kant refers to reason’s
inescapable tendency to posit unexperienceable and hence unknowable objects
corresponding to these ideas as “transcendental illusion.”

Kant presents his analysis of transcendental illusion and his critique of transcendent
metaphysics in the series of chapters titled “Transcendental Dialectic,” which takes up the
majority of the second half of Critique of Pure Reason. This section summarizes Kant’s
most important arguments from the Dialectic.

i. The Soul (Paralogisms of Pure Reason)

Kant addresses the metaphysics of the soul – an inquiry he refers to as “rational
psychology” – in the Paralogisms of Pure Reason. Rational psychology, as Kant describes
it, is the attempt to prove metaphysical theses about the nature of the soul through an
analysis of the simple proposition, “I think.” Many of Kant’s rationalist predecessors and
contemporaries had thought that reflection on the notion of the “I” in the proposition “I
think” would reveal that the I is necessarily a substance (which would mean that the I is
a soul), an indivisible unity (which some would use to prove the immortality of the
soul), self-identical (which is relevant to questions regarding personal identity),
and distinct from the external world (which can lead to external-world skepticism). Kant
argues that such reasoning is the result of transcendental illusion.

Transcendental illusion in rational psychology arises when the mere thought of the I in
the proposition “I think” is mistaken for a cognition of the I as an object. (A cognition
involves both intuition and concept, while a mere thought involves only concept.) For
instance, consider the question whether we can cognize the I as a substance (that is, as a
soul). On the one hand, something is cognized as a substance when it is represented only
as the subject of predication and is never itself the predicate of some other subject. The I
of “I think” is always represented as subject (the I’s various thoughts are its predicates).
On the other hand, something can only be cognized as a substance when it is given as a
persistent object in an intuition (see 2f above), and there can be no intuition of the I itself.
Hence although we cannot help but think of the I as a substantial soul, we can never have
cognition of the I as a substance, and hence knowledge of the existence and nature of the
soul is impossible.
ii. The World (Antinomies of Pure Reason)
The Antinomies of Pure Reason deal with “rational cosmology,” that is, with metaphysical
inquiry into the nature of the cosmos considered as a totality. An “antinomy” is a conflict
of reason with itself. Antinomies arise when reason seems to be able to prove two opposed
and mutually contradictory propositions with apparent certainty. Kant discusses four
antinomies in the first Critique (he uncovers other antinomies in later writings as well).
The First Antinomy shows that reason seems to be able to prove that the universe is both
finite and infinite in space and time. The Second Antinomy shows that reason seems to
be able to prove that matter both is and is not infinitely divisible into ever smaller parts.
The Third Antinomy shows that reason seems to be able to prove that free will cannot be
a causally efficacious part of the world (because all of nature is deterministic) and yet that
it must be such a cause. And the Fourth Antinomy shows that reason seems to be able to
prove that there is and there is not a necessary being (which some would identify with
God).

In all four cases, Kant attempts to resolve these conflicts of reason with itself by appeal to
transcendental idealism. The claim that space and time are not features of things in
themselves is used to resolve the First and Second Antinomies. Since the empirical world
in space and time is identified with appearances, and since the world as a totality can
never itself be given as a single appearance, there is no determinate fact of the matter
regarding the size of the universe: It is neither determinately finite nor determinately
infinite; rather, it is indefinitely large. Similarly, matter has neither simplest atoms (or
“monads”) nor is it infinitely divided; rather, it is indefinitely divisible.

The distinction between appearances and things in themselves is used to resolve the Third
and Fourth Antinomies. Although every empirical event experienced within the realm of
appearance has a deterministic natural cause, it is at least logically possible that freedom
can be a causally efficacious power at the level of things in themselves. And although every
empirical object experienced within the realm of appearance is a contingently existing
entity, it is logically possible that there is a necessary being outside the realm of
appearance which grounds the existence of the contingent beings within the realm of
appearance. It must be kept in mind that Kant has not claimed to demonstrate the
existence of a transcendent free will or a transcendent necessary being: Kant denies the
possibility of knowledge of things in themselves. Instead, Kant only takes himself to have
shown that the existence of such entities is logically possible. In his moral theory,
however, Kant will offer an argument for the actuality of freedom (see 5c below).

iii. God (Ideal of Pure Reason)

The Ideal of Pure Reason addresses the idea of God and argues that it is impossible to
prove the existence of God. The argumentation in the Ideal of Pure Reason was
anticipated in Kant’s The Only Possible Argument in Support of the Existence of
God (1763), making this aspect of Kant’s mature thought one of the most significant
remnants of the pre-critical period.
Kant identifies the idea of God with the idea of an ens realissimum, or “most real being.”
This most real being is also considered by reason to be a necessary being, that is,
something which exists necessarily instead of merely contingently. Reason is led to posit
the idea of such a being when it reflects on its conceptions of finite beings with limited
reality and infers that the reality of finite beings must derive from and depend on the
reality of the most infinitely perfect being. Of course, the fact that reason necessarily
thinks of a most real, necessary being does not entail that such a being exists. Kant argues
that there are only three possible arguments for the existence of such a being, and that
none is successful.

According to the ontological argument for the existence of God (versions of which were
proposed by St. Anselm (1033-1109) and Descartes (1596-1650), among others), God is
the only being whose essence entails its existence. Kant famously objects that this
argument mistakenly treats existence as a “real predicate.” According to Kant, when I
make an assertion of the form “x is necessarily F,” all I can mean is that “if x exists, then
x must be F.” Thus when proponents of the ontological argument claim that the idea of
God entails that “God necessarily exists,” all they can mean is that “if God exists, then God
exists,” which is an empty tautology.

Kant also offers lengthy criticisms of the cosmological argument (the existence of
contingent beings entails the existence of a necessary being) and the physico-theological
argument, which is also referred to as the “argument from design” (the order and
purposiveness in the empirical world can only be explained by a divine creator). Kant
argues that both of these implicitly depend on the argumentation of the ontological
argument pertaining to necessary existence, and since it fails, they fail as well.

Although Kant argues in the Transcendental Dialectic that we cannot have cognition of
the soul, of freedom of the will, nor of God, in his ethical writings he will complicate this
story and argue that we are justified in believing in these things (see 5c below).

3. Philosophy of Mathematics
The distinction between analytic and synthetic judgments (see 2b above) is necessary for
understanding Kant’s theory of mathematics. Recall that an analytic judgment is one
where the truth of the judgment depends only on the relation between the concepts used
in the judgment. The truth of a synthetic judgment, by contrast, requires that an object
be “given” in sensibility and that the concepts used in the judgment be combined in the
object. In these terms, most of Kant’s predecessors took mathematical truths to be
analytic truths. Kant, by contrast argued that mathematical knowledge is synthetic. It may
seem surprising that one’s knowledge of mathematical truths depends on an object being
given in sensibility, for we surely don’t arrive at mathematical knowledge by empirical
means. Recall, however, that a judgment can be both synthetic yet a priori. Like the
judgments of the necessary structures of experience, mathematics is also synthetic a
priori according to Kant.
To make this point, Kant considers the proposition ‘7+5=12’. Surely, this proposition is a
priori: I can know its truth without doing empirical experiments to see what happens
when I put seven things next to five other things. More to the point, ‘7+5=12’ must be a
priori because it is a necessary truth, and empirical judgments are always merely
contingent according to Kant. Yet at the same time, the judgment is not analytic because,
“The concept of twelve is by no means already thought merely by my thinking of that
unification of seven and five, and no matter how long I analyze my concept of such a
possible sum I will still not find twelve in it” (B15).

If mathematical knowledge is synthetic, then it depends on objects being given in

sensibility. And if it is a priori, then these objects must be non-empirical objects. What
sort of objects does Kant have in mind here? The answer lies in Kant’s theory of the pure
forms of intuition (space and time). Recall that an intuition is a singular, immediate
representation of an individual object (see 2c above). Empirical intuitions represent
sensible objects through sensation, but pure intuitions are a priori representations of
space and time as such. These pure intuitions of space and time provide the objects of
mathematics through what Kant calls a “construction” of concepts in pure intuition. As
he puts it, “to construct a concept means to exhibit a priori the intuition corresponding
to it” (A713/B741). A mathematical concept (for example, ‘triangle’) can be thought of as
a rule for how to make an object that corresponds to that concept. Thus if ‘triangle’ is
defined as ‘three-sided, two-dimensional shape’, then I construct a triangle in pure
intuition when I imagine three lines coming together to form a two-dimensional figure.
These pure constructions in intuition can be used to arrive at (synthetic, a priori)
mathematical knowledge. Consider the proposition, ‘The angles of a triangle sum to 180
degrees’. When I construct a triangle in intuition in accordance with the rule ‘three-sided,
two-dimensional shape’, then the constructed triangle will in fact have angles that sum to
180 degrees. And this will be true irrespective of what particular triangle I constructed
(isosceles, scalene, and so forth.). Kant holds that all mathematical knowledge is derived
in this fashion: I take a concept, construct it in pure intuition, and then determine what
features of the constructed intuition are necessarily true of it.

4. Natural Science
In addition to his work in pure theoretical philosophy, Kant displayed an active interest
in the natural sciences throughout his career. Most of his important scientific
contributions were in the physical sciences (including not just physics proper, but also
earth sciences and cosmology). In Critique of the Power of Judgment (1790) he also
presented a lengthy discussion of the philosophical basis of the study of biological entities.

In general, Kant thought that a body of knowledge could only count as a science in the
true sense if it could admit of mathematical description and an a priori principle that
could be “presented a priori in intuition” (4:471). Hence, Kant was pessimistic about the
possibility of empirical psychology ever amounting to a true science. Kant even thought it
might be the case that “chemistry can be nothing more than a systematic art or
experimental doctrine, but never a proper science” (4:471).
This section focuses primarily on Kant’s physics (4a), but it also lists several of Kant’s
other scientific contributions (4b).

a. Physics
Kant’s interest in physical theory began early. His first published work, Thoughts on
the True Estimation of Living Forces (1749) was an inquiry into some foundational
problems in physics, and it entered into the “vis viva” (“living forces”) debate between
Leibniz and the Cartesians regarding how to quantify force in moving objects (for the most
part, Kant sided with the Leibnizians). A few years later, Kant wrote the Physical
Monadology (1756), which dealt with other foundational questions in physics (see 2a
above.)

Kant’s mature physical theory is presented in its fullest form in Metaphysical

Foundations of Natural Science (1786). This theory can be understood as an outgrowth
and consequence of the transcendental theory of experience articulated in Critique of
Pure Reason (see 2f above). Where the Critique had shown the necessary conceptual
forms to which all possible objects of experience must conform, the Metaphysical
Foundations specifies in greater detail what exactly the physical constitution of these
objects must be like. The continuity with the theory of experience from the Critique is
implicit in the very structure of the Metaphysical Foundations. Just as Kant’s theory of
experience was divided into four sections corresponding to the four groups of categories
(quantity, quality, relation, modality), the body of the Metaphysical Foundations is also
divided along the same lines.

Like the theory of the Physical Monadology, the Metaphysical Foundations presents a
“dynamical” theory of matter according to which material substance is constituted by an
interaction between attractive and repulsive forces. The basic idea is that each volume of
material substance possesses a brute tendency to expand and push away other volumes
of substance (this is repulsive force) and each volume of substance possesses a brute
tendency to contract and to attract other volumes of substance (this is attractive force).
The repulsive force explains the solidity and impenetrability of bodies while the attractive
force explains gravitation (and presumably also phenomena such as magnetic attraction).
Further, any given volume of substance will possess these forces to a determinate degree:
the matter in a volume can be more or less repulsive and more or less attractive. The ratio
of attractive and repulsive force in a substance will determine how dense the body is. In
this respect, Kant’s theory marks a sharp break from those of his mechanist predecessors.
(Mechanists believed that all physical phenomena could be explained by appeal to the
sizes, shapes, and velocities of material bodies.) The Cartesians thought that there is no
true difference in density and that the appearance of differences in density could be
explained by appeal to porosity in the body. Similarly, the atomists thought that density
could be explained by differences in the ratio of atoms to void in any given volume. Thus
for both of these theories, any time there was a volume completely filled in with material
substance (no pores, no void), there could only be one possible value for mass divided by
volume. According to Kant’s theory, by contrast, two volumes of equal size could be
completely filled in with matter and yet differ in their quantity of matter (their mass), and
hence differ in their density (mass divided by volume). Another consequence of Kant’s
theory that puts him at odds with the Cartesians and atomists was his claim that matter
is elastic, hence compressible: a completely filled volume of matter could be reduced in
volume while the quantity of matter remained unchanged (hence it would become
denser). The Cartesians and atomists took this to be impossible.

At the end of his career, Kant worked on a project that was supposed to complete the
connection between the transcendental philosophy and physics. Among other things,
Kant attempted to give a transcendental, a priori demonstration of the existence of a
ubiquitous “ether” that permeates all of space. Although Kant never completed a
manuscript for this project (due primarily to the deterioration of his mental faculties at
the end of his life), he did leave behind many notes and partial drafts. Many of these notes
and drafts have been edited and published under the title Opus Postumum.

b. Other Scientific Contributions

In addition to his major contributions to physics, Kant published various writings
addressing different issues in the natural sciences. Early on he showed a great deal of
interest in geology and earth science, as evidenced by the titles of some of his shorter
essays: The question, Whether the Earth is Ageing, Considered from a Physical Point of
View (1754); On the Causes of Earthquakes on the Occasion of the Calamity that Befell
the Western Countries of Europe Towards the End of Last Year (1756); Continued
Observations on the Earthquakes that Have been Experienced for Some
Time (1756); New Notes to Explain the Theory of the Winds, in which, at the Same Time,
He Invites Attendance to his Lectures (1756).

In 1755, he wrote the Succinct Exposition of Some Meditations on Fire (which he

submitted to the university as a Master’s Thesis). There he argued, against the Cartesian
mechanists, that physical phenomena such as fire can only be explained by appeal to
elastic (that is, compressible) matter, which anticipated the mature physics of
his Metaphysical Foundations (see 4a above).

One of Kant’s most lasting scientific contributions came from his early work in cosmology.
In his Universal Natural History and Theory of the Heavens (1755), Kant gave a
mechanical explanation of the formation of the solar system and the galaxies in terms of
the principles of Newtonian physics. (A shorter version of the argument also appears
in The Only Possible Argument in Support of a Demonstration of the Existence of
God from 1763.) Kant’s hypothesis was that a single mechanical process could explain
why we observe an orbital motion of smaller bodies around larger ones at many different
scales in the cosmos (moons around planets, planets around stars, and stars around the
center of the galaxy). He proposed that at the beginning of creation, all matter was spread
out more or less evenly and randomly in a kind of nebula. Since the various bits of matter
all attracted each other through gravitation, bodies would move towards each other within
local regions to form larger bodies. The largest of these became stars, and the smaller ones
became moons or planets. Because everything was already in motion (due to the
gravitational attraction of everything to everything), and because all objects would be
pulled towards the center of mass of their local region (for example, the sun at the center
of the solar system, or a planet at the center of its own smaller planetary system), the
motion of objects within that region would become orbital motions (as described by
Newton’s theory of gravity). Although the Universal Natural History was not widely read
for most of Kant’s lifetime (due primarily to Kant’s publisher going bankrupt while the
printed books remained in a warehouse), in 1796 Pierre-Simon Laplace (1749-1827)
proposed a remarkably similar version of the same theory, and this caused renewed
interest in Kant’s book. Today the theory is referred to as the “Kant-Laplace Nebular
Hypothesis,” and a modified version of this theory is still held today.

Finally, in the second half of Critique of the Power of Judgment (1790), Kant discusses
the philosophical foundations of biology by way of an analysis of teleological judgments.
While in no way a fully worked out biological theory per se, Kant connects his account of
biological cognition in interesting ways to other important aspects of his philosophical
system. First, natural organisms are essentially teleological, or “purposive.” This
purposiveness is manifested through the organic structure of the organism: its many parts
all work together to constitute the whole, and any one part only makes sense in terms of
its relation to the healthy functioning of the whole. For instance, the teeth of an animal
are designed to chew the kind of food that the animal is equipped to hunt or forage and
that it is suited to digest. In this respect, biological entities bear a strong analogy to great
works of art. Great works of art are also organic insofar as the parts only make sense in
the context of the whole, and art displays a purposiveness similar to that found in nature
(see section 7 below). Second, Kant discusses the importance of biology with respect to
theological cognition. While he denies that the apparent design behind the purposiveness
of organisms can be used as a proof for God’s existence (see 2g3 above), he does think
that the purposiveness found in nature provides a sort of hint that there is an intelligible
principle behind the observable, natural world, and hence that the ultimate purpose of all
of nature is a rational one. In connection with his moral theory and theory of human
history (see sections 5 and 6 below), Kant will argue that the teleology of nature can be
understood as ultimately directed towards a culmination in a fully rational nature, that
is, humanity in its (future) final form.

5. Moral Theory
Kant’s moral theory is organized around the idea that to act morally and to act in
accordance with reason are one and the same. In virtue of being a rational agent (that is,
in virtue of possessing practical reason, reason which is interested and goal-directed), one
is obligated to follow the moral law that practical reason prescribes. To do otherwise is to
act irrationally. Because Kant places his emphasis on the duty that comes with being a
rational agent who is cognizant of the moral law, Kant’s theory is considered a form of
deontology (deon- comes from the Greek for “duty” or “obligation”).

Like his theoretical philosophy, Kant’s practical philosophy is a priori, formal, and
universal: the moral law is derived non-empirically from the very structure of practical
reason itself (its form), and since all rational agents share the same practical reason, the
moral law binds and obligates everyone equally. So what is this moral law that obligates
all rational agents universally and a priori? The moral law is determined by what Kant
refers to as the Categorical Imperative, which is the general principle that demands that
one respect the humanity in oneself and in others, that one not make an exception for
oneself when deliberating about how to act, and in general that one only act in accordance
with rules that everyone could and should obey.

Although Kant insists that the moral law is equally binding for all rational agents, he also
insists that the bindingness of the moral law is self-imposed: we autonomously prescribe
the moral law to ourselves. Because Kant thinks that the kind of autonomy in question
here is only possible under the presupposition of a transcendentally free basis of moral
choice, the constraint that the moral law places on an agent is not only consistent with
freedom of the will, it requires it. Hence, one of the most important aspects of Kant’s
project is to show that we are justified in presupposing that our morally significant choices
are grounded in a transcendental freedom (the very sort of freedom that Kant argued
we could not prove through mere “theoretical” or “speculative” reason; see 2gii above).

This section aims to explain the structure and content of Kant’s moral theory (5a-b), and
also Kant’s claims that belief in freedom, God, and the immortality of the soul are
necessary “postulates” of practical reason (5c). (On the relation between Kant’s moral
theory and his aesthetic theory, see 7c below.)

a. The Good Will and Duty

Kant lays out the case for his moral theory in Groundwork for the Metaphysics of
Morals (1785), Critique of Practical Reason (also known as the “Second Critique”; 1788),
and the Metaphysics of Morals (1797). His arguments from the Groundwork are his most
well-known and influential, so the following focuses primarily on them.

Kant begins his argument from the premise that a moral theory must be grounded in an
account of what is unconditionally good. If something is merely conditionally good, that
is, if its goodness depends on something else, then that other thing will either be merely
conditionally good as well, in which case its goodness depends on yet another thing, or it
will be unconditionally good. All goodness, then, must ultimately be traceable to
something that is unconditionally good. There are many things that we typically think of
as good but that are not truly unconditionally good. Beneficial resources such as money
or power are often good, but since these things can be used for evil purposes, their
goodness is conditional on the use to which they are put. Strength of character is generally
a good thing, but again, if someone uses a strong character to successfully carry out evil
plans, then the strong character is not good. Even happiness, according to Kant, is not
unconditionally good. Although all humans universally desire to be happy, if someone is
happy but does not deserve their happiness (because, for instance, their happiness results
from stealing from the elderly), then it is not good for the person to be happy. Happiness
is only good on the condition that the happiness is deserved.
Kant argues that there is only one thing that can be considered unconditionally good: a
good will. A person has a good will insofar as they form their intentions on the basis of a
self-conscious respect for the moral law, that is, for the rules regarding what a rational
agent ought to do, one’s duty. The value of a good will lies in the principles on the basis of
which it forms its intentions; it does not lie in the consequences of the actions that the
intentions lead to. This is true even if a good will never leads to any desirable
consequences at all: “Even if… this will should wholly lack the capacity to carry out its
purpose… then, like a jewel, it would still shine by itself, as something that has its full
worth in itself” (4:393). This is in line with Kant’s emphasis on
the unconditional goodness of a good will: if a will were evaluated in terms of its
consequences, then the goodness of the will would depend on (that is, would
be conditioned on) those consequences. (In this respect, Kant’s deontology is in stark
opposition to consequentialist moral theories, which base their moral evaluations on the
consequences of actions rather than the intentions behind them.)

b. The Categorical Imperative

If a good will is one that forms its intentions on the basis of correct principles of action,
then we want to know what sort of principles these are. A principle that commands an
action is called an “imperative.” Most imperatives are “hypothetical imperatives,” that is,
they are commands that hold only if certain conditions are met. For instance: “if you want
to be a successful shopkeeper, then cultivate a reputation for honesty.” Since hypothetical
imperatives are conditioned on desires and the intended consequences of actions, they
cannot serve as the principles that determine the intentions and volitions of an
unconditionally good will. Instead, we require what Kant calls a “categorical imperative.”
Where hypothetical imperatives take the form, “if y is desired/intended/sought, do x,”
categorical imperatives simply take the form, “do x.” Since a categorical imperative is
stripped of all reference to the consequences of an action, it is thereby stripped of all
determinate content, and hence it is purely formal. And since it is unconditional, it
holds universally. Hence a categorical imperative expresses only the very form of a
universally binding law: “nothing is left but the conformity of actions as such with
universal law” (4:402). To act morally, then, is to form one’s intentions on the basis of the
very idea of a universal principle of action.

This conception of a categorical imperative leads Kant to his first official formulation of
the categorical imperative itself: “act only in accordance with that maxim through which
you can at the same time will that it become a universal law” (4:421). A maxim is a general
rule that can be used to determine particular courses of actions in particular
circumstances. For instance, the maxim “I shall lie when it will get me out of trouble” can
be used to determine the decision to lie about an adulterous liaison. The categorical
imperative offers a decision procedure for determining whether a given course of action
is in accordance with the moral law. After determining what maxim one would be basing
the action in question on, one then asks whether it would be possible, given the power (in
an imagined, hypothetical scenario), to choose that everyone act in accordance with that
same maxim. If it is possible to will that everyone act according to that maxim, then the
action under consideration is morally permissible. If it is not possible to will that everyone
act according to that maxim, the action is morally impermissible. Lying to cover up
adultery is thus immoral because one cannot will that everyone act according to the
maxim, “I shall lie when it will get me out of trouble.” Note that it is not simply that it
would be undesirable for everyone to act according to that maxim. Rather, it would
be impossible. Since everyone would know that everyone else was acting according to that
maxim, there would never be the presupposition that anyone was telling the truth; the
very act of lying, of course, requires such a presupposition on the part of the one being
lied to. Hence, the state of affairs where everyone lies to get out of trouble can never arise,
so it cannot be willed to be a universal law. It fails the test of the categorical imperative.

The point of Kant’s appeal to the universal law formulation of the categorical imperative
is to show that an action is morally permissible only if the maxim on which the action is
based could be affirmed as a universal law that everyone obeys without exception. The
mark of immorality, then, is that one makes an exception for oneself. That is, one acts in
a way that they would not want everyone else to. When someone chooses to lie about an
adulterous liaison, one is implicitly thinking, “in general people should tell the truth, but
in this case I will be the exception to the rule.”

Kant’s first formulation of the categorical imperative describes it in terms of the very form
of universal law itself. This formal account abstracts from any specific content that the
moral law might have for living, breathing human beings. Kant offers a second
formulation to address the material side of the moral law. Since the moral law has to do
with actions, and all actions are by definition teleological (that is, goal-directed), a
material formulation of the categorical imperative will require an appeal to the “ends” of
human activity. Some ends are merely instrumental, that is, they are sought only because
they serve as “means” towards further ends. Kant argues that the moral law must be aimed
at an end that is not merely instrumental, but is rather an end in itself. Only rational
agents, according to Kant, are ends in themselves. To act morally is thus to respect
rational agents as ends in themselves. Accordingly, the categorical imperative can be
reformulated as follows: “So act that you use humanity, whether in your own person or in
the person of any other, always at the same time as an end, never merely as a means”
(4:429). The basic idea here is that it is immoral to treat someone as a thing of merely
instrumental value; persons have an intrinsic (non-instrumental) value, and the moral
law demands that we respect this intrinsic value. To return to the example of the previous
paragraphs, it would be wrong to lie about an adulterous liaison because by withholding
the truth one is manipulating the other person to make things easier for oneself; this sort
of manipulation, however, amounts to treating the other as a thing (as a mere means to
the comfort of not getting in trouble), and not as a person deserving of respect and entitled
to the truth.

The notion of a universal law provides the form of the categorical imperative and rational
agents as ends in themselves provide the matter. These two sides of the categorical
imperative are combined into yet a third formulation, which appeals to the notion of a
“kingdom of ends.” A kingdom of ends can be thought of as a sort of perfectly just utopian
ideal in which all citizens of this kingdom freely respect the intrinsic worth of the
humanity in all others because of an autonomously self-imposed recognition of the
bindingness of the universal moral law for all rational agents. The third formulation of
the categorical imperative is simply the idea that one should act in whatever way a
member of this perfectly just society would act: “act in accordance with the maxims of a
member giving universal laws for a merely possible kingdom of ends” (4:439). The idea
of a kingdom of ends is an ideal (hence the “merely possible”). Although humanity may
never be able to achieve such a perfect state of utopian coexistence, we can at least strive
to approximate this state to an ever greater degree.

c. Postulates of Practical Reason

In Critique of Pure Reason, Kant had argued that although we can acknowledge the bare
logical possibility that humans possess free will, that there is an immortal soul, and that
there is a God, he also argued that we can never have positive knowledge of these things
(see 2g above). In his ethical writings, however, Kant complicates this story. He argues
that despite the theoretical impossibility of knowledge of these objects, belief in them is
nevertheless a precondition for moral action (and for practical cognition generally).
Accordingly, freedom, immortality, and God are “postulates of practical reason.” (The
following discussion draws primarily on Critique of Practical Reason.)

We will start with freedom. Kant argues that morality and the obligation that comes with
it are only possible if humans have free will. This is because the universal laws prescribed
by the categorical imperative presuppose autonomy (autos = self; nomos = law). To be
autonomous is to be the free ground of one’s own principles, or “laws” of action. Kant
argues that if we presuppose that humans are rational and have free will, then his entire
moral theory follows directly. The problem, however, lies in justifying the belief that we
are free. Kant had argued in the Second Analogy of Experience that every event in the
natural world has a “determining ground,” that is, a cause, and so all human actions, as
natural events, themselves have deterministic causes (see 2f above). The only room for
freedom of the will would lie in the realm of things in themselves, which contains the
noumenal correlate of my phenomenal self. Since things in themselves are unknowable, I
can never look to them to get evidence that I possess transcendental freedom. Kant gives
at least two arguments to justify belief in freedom as a precondition of his moral theory.
(There is a great deal of controversy among commentators regarding the exact form of his
arguments, as well as their success. It will not be possible to adjudicate those disputes in
any detail here. See Section 10 (References and Further Readings) for references to some
of these commentaries.)

In the Groundwork, Kant suggests that the presupposition that we are free follows as a
consequence of the fact that we have practical reason and that we think of ourselves as
practical agents. Any time I face a choice that requires deliberation, I must consider the
options before me as really open. If I thought of my course of action as already determined
ahead of time, then there would not really be any choice to make. Furthermore, in taking
my deliberation to be real, I also think of the possible outcomes of my actions as caused
by me. The notion of a causality that originates in the self is the notion of a free will. So
the very fact that I do deliberate about what actions I will take means that I am
presupposing that my choice is real and hence that I am free. As Kant puts it, all practical
agents act “under the idea of freedom” (4:448). It is not obvious that this argument is
strong enough for Kant’s purposes. The position seems to be that I must act as though I
am free, but acting as though I am free in no way entails that I really am free. At best, it
seems that since I act as though I am free, I thereby must act as though morality really
does obligate me. This does not establish that the moral law really does obligate me.
In the Second Critique, Kant offers a different argument for the reality of freedom. He
argues that it is a brute “fact of reason” (5:31) that the categorical imperative (and so
morality generally) obligates us as rational agents. In other words, all rational agents are
at least implicitly conscious of the bindingness of the moral law on us. Since morality
requires freedom, it follows that if morality is real, then freedom must be real too. Thus
this “fact of reason” allows for an inference to the reality of freedom. Although the
conclusion of this argument is stronger than the earlier argument, its premise is more
controversial. For instance, it is far from obvious that all rational agents are conscious of
the moral law. If they were, how come no one discovered this exact moral law before 1785
when Kant wrote the Groundwork? Equally problematic, it is not clear why this “fact of
reason” should count as knowledge of the bindingness of the moral law. It may just be
that we cannot help but believe that the moral law obligates us, in which case we once
again end up merely acting as though we are free and as though the moral law is real.

Again, there is much debate in the literature about the structure and success of Kant’s
arguments. It is clear, however, that the success of Kant’s moral project stands or falls
with his arguments for freedom of the will, and that the overall strength of this theory is
determined to a high degree by the epistemic status of our belief in our own freedom.

Kant’s arguments for immortality and God as postulates of practical reason presuppose
that the reality of the moral law and the freedom of the will have been established, and
they also depend on the principle that “‘ought’ implies ‘can’”: one cannot be obligated to
do something unless the thing in question is doable. For instance, there is no sense in
which I am obligated to single-handedly solve global poverty, because it is not within my
power to do so. According to Kant, the ultimate aim of a rational moral agent should be
to become perfectly moral. We are obligated to strive to become ever more moral. Given
the “ought implies can” principle, if we ought to work towards moral perfection, then
moral perfection must be possible and we can become perfect. However, Kant holds that
moral perfection is something that finite rational agents such as humans can only
progress towards, but not actually attain in any finite amount of time, and certainly not
within any one human lifetime. Thus the moral law demands an “endless progress”
towards “complete conformity of the will with the moral law” (5:122). This endless
progress towards perfection can only be demanded of us if our own existence is endless.
In short, one’s belief that one should strive towards moral perfection presupposes the
belief in the immortality of the soul.

In addition to the “ought implies can” principle, Kant’s argument about belief in God also
involves an elaboration of the notion of the “highest good” at which all moral action aims
(at least indirectly). According to Kant, the highest good, that is, the most perfect possible
state for a community of rational agents, is not only one in which all agents act in complete
conformity with the moral law. It is also a state in which these agents are happy. Kant had
argued that although everyone naturally desires to be happy, happiness is only good when
one deserves to be happy. In the ideal scenario of a morally perfect community of rational
agents, everyone deserves to be happy. Since a deserved happiness is a good thing, the
highest good will involve a situation in which everyone acts in complete conformity with
the moral law and everyone is completely happy because they deserve to be. Now since
we are obligated to work towards this highest good, this complete, universal, morally
justified happiness must be possible (again, because “ought” implies “can”). This is where
a puzzle arises. Although happiness is connected to morality at the conceptual level when
one deserves happiness, there is no natural connection between morality and happiness.
Our happiness depends on the natural world (for example, whether we are healthy,
whether natural disasters affect us), and the natural world operates according to laws that
are completely separate from the laws of morality. Accordingly, acting morally is in
general no guarantee that nature will make it possible for one to be happy. If anything,
behaving morally will often decrease one’s happiness (for doing the right thing often
involves doing the uncomfortable, difficult thing). And we all have plenty of empirical
evidence from the world we live in that often bad things happen to good people and good
things happen to bad people. Thus if the highest good (in which happiness is proportioned
to virtue) is possible, then somehow there must be a way for the laws of nature
to eventually lead to a situation in which happiness is proportioned to virtue. (Note that
since at this point in the argument, Kant takes himself to have established immortality as
a postulate of practical reason, this “eventually” may very well be far in the future). Since
the laws of nature and the laws of morality are completely separate on their own, the only
way that the two could come together such that happiness ends up proportioned to virtue
would be if the ultimate cause and ground of nature set up the world in such a way that
the laws of nature would eventually lead to the perfect state in question. Therefore, the
possibility of the highest good requires the presupposition that the cause of the world is
intelligent and powerful enough to set nature up in the right way, and also that it wills in
accordance with justice that eventually the laws of nature will indeed lead to a state in
which the happiness of rational agents is proportioned to their virtue. This intelligent,
powerful, and just cause of the world is what traditionally goes by the name of “God.”
Hence God is a postulate of practical reason.

6. Political Theory and Theory of Human History

Kant’s ethical theory emphasized reason, autonomy, and a respect for the humanity of
others. These central aspects of his theory of individual moral choice are carried over to
his theories of humanity’s history and of ideal political organization. This section covers
Kant’s teleological history of the human race (6a), the basic elements of his political
theory (6b), and his theory of the possibility of world peace (6c).

a. Human History and the Age of Enlightenment

Kant’s socio-political philosophy must be understood in terms of his understanding of the
history of humanity, of its teleology, and in terms of his particular time and place: Europe
during the Enlightenment.

In his short essay “Idea for a Universal History with a Cosmopolitan Purpose” (1784),
Kant outlines a speculative sketch of humanity’s history organized around his conception
of the teleology intrinsic to the species. The natural purpose of humanity is the
development of reason. This development is not something that can take place in one
individual lifetime, but is instead the ongoing project of humanity across the generations.
Nature fosters this goal through both human physiology and human psychology. Humans
have no fur, claws, or sharp teeth, and so if we are to be sheltered and fed, we must use
our reason to create the tools necessary to satisfy our needs. More importantly, at the
cultural level, Kant argues that human society is characterized by an “unsocial
sociability”: on the one hand, humans need to live with other humans and we feel
incomplete in isolation; but on the other, we frequently disagree with each other and are
frustrated when others don’t agree with us on important matters. The frustration brought
on by disagreement serves as an incentive to develop our capacity to reason so that we
can argue persuasively and convince others to agree with us.

By means of our physiological deficiencies and our unsocial sociability, nature has nudged
us, generation by generation, to develop our capacity for reason and slowly to emerge
from the hazy fog of pre-history up to the present. This development is not yet complete.
Kant takes stock of where we were in his day, in late 18 th c. Prussia) in his short, popular
essay: “An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment?” (1784). To be enlightened,
he argues, is to determine one’s beliefs and actions in accordance with the free use of one’s
reason. The process of enlightenment is humanity’s “emergence from its self-incurred
immaturity” (8:35), that is, the emergence from an uncritical reliance on the authority of
others (for example, parents, monarchs, or priests). This is a slow, on-going process. Kant
thought that his own age was an age of enlightenment, but not yet a fully enlightened age.
The goal of humanity is to reach a point where all interpersonal interactions are
conducted in accordance with reason, and hence in accordance with the moral law (this
is the idea of a kingdom of ends described in 5b above). Kant thinks that there are two
significant conditions that must be in place before such an enlightened age can come to
be. First, humans must live in a perfectly just society under a perfectly just constitution.
Second, the nations of the world must coexist as an international federation in a state of
“perpetual peace.” Some aspects of the first condition are discussed in 6b, and of the
second in 6c.

b. Political Theory
Kant fullest articulation of his political theory appears in the “Doctrine of Right,” which
is the first half of Metaphysics of Morals (1797). In line with his belief that a freedom
grounded in rationality is what bestows dignity upon human beings, Kant organizes his
theory of justice around the notion of freedom: “Any action is right if it can coexist with
everyone’s freedom in accordance with a universal law, or if on its maxim the freedom of
choice of each can coexist with everyone’s freedom in accordance with a universal law”
(6:230). Implicit in this definition is a theory of equality: everyone should be granted the
same degree of freedom. Although a state, through the passing and enforcing of laws,
necessarily restricts freedom to some degree, Kant argues that this is necessary for the
preservation of equality of human freedom. This is because when the freedoms of all are
unchecked (for example, in the state of nature, which is also a condition of anarchy), the
strong will overpower the weak and infringe on their freedoms, in which case freedoms
will not be distributed equally, contrary to Kant’s basic principle of right. Hence a fair and
lawful coercion that restricts freedom is consistent with and required by maximal and
equal degrees of freedom for all.
Kant holds that republicanism is the ideal form of government. In a republic, voters elect
representatives and these representatives decide on particular laws on behalf of the
people. (Kant shows that he was not free of the prejudices of his day, and claims, with
little argument, that neither women nor the poor should be full citizens with voting
rights.) Representatives are duty-bound to choose these laws from the perspective of the
“general will” (a term Kant borrows from Rousseau), rather than from the perspective of
the interests of any one individual or group within society. Even though the entire
population does not vote on each individual law, a law is said to be just only in case an
entire population of rational agents could and would consent to the law. In this respect,
Kant’s theory of just law is analogous to his universal law formulation of the categorical
imperative: both demand that it be possible in principle for everyone to affirm the rule in
question (see 5b above).

Among the freedoms that ought to be respected in a just society (republican or otherwise)
are the freedom to pursue happiness in any way one chooses (so long as this pursuit does
not infringe the rights of others, of course), freedom of religion, and freedom of speech.
These last two are especially important to Kant and he associated them with the ongoing
enlightenment of humanity in “What is Enlightenment?” He argues that it “would be a
crime against human nature” (8:39) to legislate religious doctrine because doing so would
be to deny to humans the very free use of reason that makes them human. Similarly,
restrictions on what Kant calls the “public use of one’s reason” are contrary to the most
basic teleology of the human species, namely, the development of reason. Kant himself
had felt the sting of an infringement on these rights when the government of Friedrich
Wilhelm II (the successor to Frederick the Great) prohibited Kant from publishing
anything further on matters pertaining to religion.

c. Perpetual Peace
Kant elaborates the cosmopolitan theory first proposed in “Idea for a Universal History”
in his Towards Perpetual Peace (1795). The basic idea is that world peace can be achieved
only when international relations mirror, in certain respects, the relations between
individuals in a just society. Just as people cannot be traded as things, so too states cannot
be traded as though they were mere property. Just as individuals must respect others’
rights to free self-determination, so too, “no state shall forcibly interfere in the
constitution and government of another state” (8:346). And in general, just as individuals
need to arrange themselves into just societies, states, considered as individuals
themselves, must arrange themselves into a global federation, a “league of nations”
(8:354). Of course, until a state of perpetual peace is reached, wars will be inevitable. Even
in times of wars, however, certain laws must be respected. For instance, it is never
permissible for hostilities to become so violent as to undermine the possibility of a future
peace treaty.

Kant argued that republicanism is especially conducive to peace, and he argued that
perpetual peace would require that all states be republics. This is because the people will
only consent to a war if they are willing to bear the economic burdens that war brings,
and such a cost will only be worthwhile when there is a truly dire threat. If only the will of
the monarch is required to go to war, since the monarch will not have to bear the full
burden of the war (the cost will be distributed among the subjects), there is much less
disincentive against war.

According to Kant, war is the result of an imbalance or disequilibrium in international

relations. Although wars are never desirable, they lead to new conditions in international
relations, and sometimes these new conditions are more balanced than the previous ones.
When they are more balanced, there is less chance of new war occurring. Overall then,
although the progression is messy and violent along the way, the slow march towards
perpetual peace is a process in which all the states of the world slowly work towards a
condition of balance and equilibrium.

7. Theory of Art and Beauty

Kant’s most worked out presentation of his views on aesthetics appears in Critique of the
Power of Judgment (1790), also known as the “Third Critique.” As the title implies, Kant’s
aesthetic theory is cashed out through an analysis of the operations of the faculty of
judgment. That is, Kant explains what it is for something to be beautiful by explaining
what goes into the judgment that something is beautiful. This section explains the
structure of aesthetic judgments of the beautiful and the sublime (7a), summarizes Kant’s
theory of art and the genius behind art (7b), and finally explains the connection between
Kant’s aesthetic theory and his moral theory (7c).
a. The Beautiful and the Sublime
Kant holds that there are three different types of aesthetic judgments: judgments of the
agreeable, of the beautiful, and of the sublime. The first is not particularly interesting,
because it pertains simply to whatever objects happen to cause us (personally) pleasure
or pain. There is nothing universal about such judgments. If one person finds botanical
gin pleasant and another does not, there is no disagreement, simply different responses
to the stimulus. Judgments of the beautiful and the sublime, however, are more
interesting and worth spending some time on.

Let us consider judgments of beauty (which Kant calls “judgments of taste”) first. Kant
argues that all judgments of taste involve four components, or “moments.” First,
judgments of taste involve a subjective yet disinterested enjoyment. We have an
appreciation for the object without desiring it. This contrasts judgments of taste from both
cognitions, which represent objects as they are rather than how they affect us, and desires,
which represent objects in terms of what we want. Second, judgments of taste
involve universality. When we judge an object to be beautiful, implicit in the judgment is
the belief that everyone should judge the object in the same way. Third, judgments of taste
involve the form of purposiveness, or “purposeless purposiveness.” Beautiful objects
seem to be “for” something, even though there is nothing determinate that they are for.
Fourth, judgments of taste involve necessity. When presented with a beautiful object, I
take it that I ought to judge it as beautiful. Taken together, the theory is this: when I judge
something as beautiful, I enjoy the object without having any desires with respect to it, I
believe that everyone should judge the object to be beautiful, I represent some kind of
purposiveness in it, but without applying any concepts that would determine its specific
purpose, and I also represent myself as being obligated to judge it to be beautiful.
Judgments of beauty are thus quite peculiar. On the one hand, when we say an object is
beautiful, it is not the same sort of predication as when I say something is green, is a horse,
or fits in a breadbox. Yet it is not for that reason a purely subjective, personal judgment
because of the necessity and intersubjective universality involved in such judgments.

A further remark is in order regarding the “form of purposiveness” in judgments of taste.

Kant wants to emphasize that no determinate concepts are involved in judgments of taste,
but that the “reflective” power of judgment (that is, judgment’s ability to seek to find a
suitable concept to fit an object) is nevertheless very active during such judgments. When
I encounter an unfamiliar object, my reflective judgment is set in motion and seeks a
concept until I figure out what sort of thing the object is. When I encounter a beautiful
object, the form of purposiveness in the object also sets my reflecting judgment in motion,
but no determinate concept is ever found for the object. Although this might be expected
to lead to frustration, Kant instead claims that it provokes a “free play” (5:217) between
the imagination and understanding. Kant does not say as much about this “free play” as
one would like, but the idea seems to be that since the experience is not constrained by a
determinate concept that must be applied to the object, the imagination and
understanding are free to give in to a lively interplay of thought and emotion in response
to the object. The experience of this free play of the faculties is the part of the aesthetic
experience that we take to be enjoyable.

Aside from judgments of taste, there is another important form of aesthetic experience:
the experience of the sublime. According to Kant, the experience of the sublime occurs
when we face things (whether natural or manmade) that dwarf the imagination and make
us feel tiny and insignificant in comparison. When we face something so large that we
cannot come up with a concept to adequately capture its magnitude, we experience a
feeling akin to vertigo. A good example of this is the “Deep Field” photographs from the
Hubble Telescope. We already have trouble comprehending the enormity of the Milky
Way, but when we see an image containing thousands of other galaxies of approximately
the same size, the mind cannot even hope to comprehend the immensity of what is
depicted. Although this sort of experience can be disconcerting, Kant also says that a
disinterested pleasure (similar to the pleasure in the beautiful) is experienced when the
ideas of reason pertaining to the totality of the cosmos are brought into play. Although
the understanding can have no empirical concept of such an indeterminable magnitude,
reason has such an idea (in Kant’s technical sense of “idea”; see 2g above), namely, the
idea of the world as an indefinitely large totality. This feeling that reason can subsume
and capture even the totality of the immeasurable cosmos leads to the peculiar pleasure
of the sublime.

b. Theory of Art
Both natural objects and manmade art can be judged to be beautiful. Kant suggests that
natural beauties are purest, but works of art are especially interesting because they result
from human genius. The following briefly summarizes Kant’s theory of art and genius.
Although art must be manmade and not natural, Kant holds that art is beautiful insofar
as it imitates the beauty of nature. Specifically, a beautiful work of art must display the
“form of purposiveness” (described above, 7a) that can be encountered in the natural
world. What makes great art truly great, though, is that it is the result of genius in the
artist. According to Kant, genius is the innate talent possessed by the exceptional, gifted
individual that allows that individual to translate an intangible “aesthetic idea” into a
tangible work of art. Aesthetic ideas are the counterparts to the ideas of reason (see 2g
above): where ideas of reason are concepts for which no sensible intuition is adequate,
aesthetic ideas are representations of the imagination for which no concept is adequate
(this is in line with Kant’s claim that beauty is not determinately conceptualizable). When
a genius is successful at exhibiting an aesthetic idea in a beautiful work of art, the work
will provoke the “free play” of the faculties described above (7a).

Kant divides the arts into three groups: the arts of speech (rhetoric and poetry), pictorial
arts (sculpture, architecture, and painting), and the art of the play of sensations (music
and “the art of colors”) (5:321ff.). These can, of course, be combined together. For instance
opera combines music and poetry into song, and combines this with theatre (which Kant
considers a form of painting). Kant deems poetry the greatest of the arts because of its
ability to stimulate the imagination and understanding and expand the mind through
reflection. Music is the most successful if judged in terms of “charm and movement of the
mind” (5:328), because it evokes the affect and feeling of human speech, but without
being constrained by the determinate concepts of actual words. However, if the question
is which art advances culture the most, Kant thinks that painting is better than music.

One consequence of Kant’s theory of art is that the contemporary notion of “conceptual
art” is a contradiction in terms: if there is a specific point or message (a determinate
concept) that the artist is trying to get across, then the work cannot provoke the
indeterminate free play that is necessary for the experience of the beautiful. At best, such
works can be interesting or provocative, but not truly beautiful and hence not truly art.

c. Relation to Moral Theory

A final important aspect of Kant’s aesthetic theory is his claim that beauty is a “symbol”
of morality (5:351ff.), and aesthetic judgment thereby functions as a sort of
“propaedeutic” for moral cognition. This is because certain aspects of judgments of taste
(see 7a above) are analogous in important respects to moral judgments. The immediacy
and disinterestedness of aesthetic appreciation corresponds to the demand that moral
virtue be praised even when it does not lead to tangibly beneficial consequences: it is good
in itself. The free play of the faculties involved in appreciation of the beautiful reminds
one of the freedom necessary for and presupposed by morality. And the universality and
necessity involved in aesthetic judgments correspond to the universality and necessity of
the moral law. In short, Kant holds that a cultivated sensitivity to aesthetic pleasures helps
prepare the mind for moral cognition. Aesthetic appreciation makes one sensitive to the
fact that there are pleasures beyond the merely agreeable just as there are goods beyond
the merely instrumental.
8. Pragmatic Anthropology
Together with a course on “physical geography” (a study of the world), Kant taught a class
on “pragmatic anthropology” almost every year of his career as a university teacher.
Towards the end of his career, Kant allowed his collected lecture notes for his
anthropology course to be edited and published as Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point
of View (1789). Anthropology, for Kant, is simply the study of human
nature. Pragmatic anthropology is useful, practical knowledge that students would need
in order to successfully navigate the world and get through life.

The Anthropology is interesting in two very different ways. First, Kant presents detailed
discussions of his views on issues related to empirical psychology, moral psychology, and
aesthetic taste that fill out and give substance to the highly abstract presentations of his
writings in pure theoretical philosophy. For instance, although in the theory of experience
from Critique of Pure Reason Kant argues that we need sensory intuitions in order to
have empirical cognition of the world, he does not explain in any detail how our specific
senses—sight, hearing, touch, taste, smell—contribute to this cognition.
The Anthropology fills in a lot of this story. For instance, we learn that sight and hearing
are necessary for us to represent objects as public and intersubjectively available. And we
learn that touch is necessary for us to represent objects as solid, and hence as substantial.
With respect to his moral theory, many of Kant’s ethical writings can give the impression
that emotions and sentiments can only work against morality, and that only pure reason
can incline one towards the good. In the Anthropology Kant complicates this story,
informing us that nature has implanted sentiments of compassion to incline us towards
the good, even in the absence of a developed reason. Once reason has been developed, it
can promote an “enthusiasm of good resolution” (7:254) through attention to concrete
instances of virtuous action, in which case desire can work in cooperation with reason’s
moral law, not against it. Kant also supplements his moral theory through pedagogical
advice about how to cultivate an inclination towards moral behavior.

The other aspect of the Anthropology (and the student transcripts of his actual lectures)
that makes it so interesting is that the wealth and range of examples and discussions gives
a much fuller picture of Kant the person than we can get from his more technical writings.
The many examples present a picture of a man with wide-ranging opinions on all aspects
of the human experience. There are discussions of dreams, humor, boredom, personality-
types, facial expressions, pride and greed, gender and race issues, and more. We even get
some fashion advice: it is acceptable to wear yellow under a blue coat, but gaudy to wear
blue under a yellow coat. There has been a great deal of renewed interest in Kant’s
anthropological writings and many commentators have been appealing to these often
neglected texts as a helpful resource that provides contextualization of Kant’s more widely
studied theoretical output.

9. References and Further Reading

a. Primary Literature
The best scholarly, English translations of Kant’s work are published by Cambridge
University Press as the Cambridge Editions of the Works of Immanuel Kant. The
 following are from that collection and contain some of Kant’s most important and
influential writings.

 Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Paul Guyer and Allen Wood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1998.
 Practical Philosophy, ed. Mary Gregor. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. (Contains most of
Kant’s ethical writings, including Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals, Critique of Practical Reason,
and Metaphysics of Morals.)
 Critique of the Power of Judgment, trans. Paul Guyer and Eric Matthews. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2000.
 Theoretical Philosophy 1755-1770, ed. David Walford. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002.
(Contains most of Kant’s “pre-critical” writings in theoretical philosophy.)
 Theoretical Philosophy after 1781, eds. Henry Allison and Peter Heath. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2002 (Contains Kant’s mature writings in theoretical philosophy, including Prolegomena to Any
Future Metaphysics and Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science.)
 History, Anthropology, and Education, eds. Günter Zöller and Robert Louden. . Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2007. (Contains, among other writings, Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View.)
b. Secondary Literature
 Ernst Cassirer (Kant’s Life and Thought, tr. by James Haden. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983
(originally written in 1916)) and Manfred Kuehn (Kant: A Biography. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2002) both offer intellectual biographies that situate the development of Kant’s thought within
the context of his life and times.
 For comprehensive discussions of the metaphysics and epistemology of Critique of Pure Reason, see Paul
Guyer (Kant and the Claims of Knowledge. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), Henry Allison
(Kant’s Transcendental Idealism: An Interpretation and Defense, Second Edition. New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2004), and Graham Bird (The Revolutionary Kant: A Commentary on the Critique of Pure
Reason. Chicago: Open Court Press, 2006).
 For treatments of Kant’s ethical theory, see Allen Wood (Kant’s Ethical Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999), Christine Korsgaard (Creating the Kingdom of Ends. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1996), and Onora O’Neill (Constructions of Reason: Explorations of Kant’s Practical
Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990).
 For analyses of Kant’s aesthetic theory (as well as other issues from the Third Critique), see Rachel
Zuckert (Kant on Beauty and Biology: An Interpretation of the ‘Critique of Judgment’. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2010), Paul Guyer (Kant and the Claims of Taste. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1997), and Henry Allison (Kant’s Theory of Taste: A Reading of the Critique of Aesthetic
Judgment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001).
 For studies of Kant’s anthropology and theory of human nature, see Patrick Frierson (What is the Human
Being? London: Routledge, 2013) and Alix Cohen (Kant and the Human Sciences: Biology, Anthropology
and History. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009).

John Stuart Mill (1806—1873)

 John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) profoundly influenced the
shape of nineteenth century British thought and political discourse. His substantial
corpus of works includes texts in logic, epistemology, economics, social and political
philosophy, ethics, metaphysics, religion, and current affairs. Among his most well-
known and significant are A System of Logic, Principles of Political Economy, On
Liberty, Utilitarianism, The Subjection of Women, Three Essays on Religion, and
his Autobiography.Mill’s education at the hands of his imposing father, James Mill,
fostered both intellectual development (Greek at the age of three, Latin at eight) and a
propensity towards reform. James Mill and Jeremy Bentham led the “Philosophic
Radicals,” who advocated for rationalization of the law and legal institutions, universal
male suffrage, the use of economic theory in political decision-making, and a politics
oriented by human happiness rather than natural rights or conservatism. In his twenties,
the younger Mill felt the influence of historicism, French social thought, and
Romanticism, in the form of thinkers like Coleridge, the St. Simonians, Thomas Carlyle,
Goethe, and Wordsworth. This led him to begin searching for a new philosophic
radicalism that would be more sensitive to the limits on reform imposed by culture and
history and would emphasize the cultivation of our humanity, including the cultivation of
dispositions of feeling and imagination (something he thought had been lacking in his
own education).
None of Mill’s major writings remain independent of his moral, political, and social
agenda. Even the most abstract works, such as the System of Logic and his Examination of
Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, serve polemical purposes in the fight against the
German, or a priori, school otherwise called “intuitionism.” On Mill’s view, intuitionism
needed to be defeated in the realms of logic, mathematics, and philosophy of mind if its
pernicious effects in social and political discourse were to be mitigated.
In his writings, Mill argues for a number of controversial principles. He defends radical
empiricism in logic and mathematics, suggesting that basic principles of logic and
mathematics are generalizations from experience rather than known a priori. The
principle of utility—that “actions are right in proportion as they tend to promote
happiness; wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness”—was the centerpiece
of his ethical philosophy. On Liberty puts forward the “harm principle” that “the only
purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized
community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others.” In The Subjection of Women, he
compares the legal status of women to the status of slaves and argues for equality in
marriage and under the law.
This article provides an overview of Mill’s life and major works, focusing on his key
arguments and their relevant historical contexts.

Table of Contents
1. Biography
2. Works
a. A System of Logic
i. Names, Propositions, and the Principles of Logic and Mathematics
ii. Other Topics of Interest
b. An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy
c. Psychological Writings
d. Utilitarianism
. History of the Principle of Utility
i. Basic Argument
e. On Liberty
f. The Subjection of Women and Other Social and Political Writings
g. Principles of Political Economy
h. Essays on Religion
3. Conclusion
4. References and Further Reading
1. Biography
Writing of John Stuart Mill a few days after Mill’s death, Henry Sidgwick claimed, “I
should say that from about 1860-65 or thereabouts he ruled England in the region of
thought as very few men ever did: I do not expect to see anything like it again.” (Collini
1991, 178). Mill established this rule over English thought through his writings in logic,
epistemology, economics, social and political philosophy, ethics, metaphysics, religion,
and current affairs. One can say with relative security, looking at the breadth and
complexity of his work, that Mill was the greatest nineteenth century British philosopher.

This rule did not come about accidentally. It had been planned by his father James Mill
from the younger Mill’s birth on May 20, 1806. The elder Mill was a towering figure for
his eldest child, and Mill’s story must be told through his father’s. James Mill was born in
Scotland in 1773 to a family of modest means. Through the patronage of Sir John and
Lady Jane Stuart, he was able to attend the University of Edinburgh, which at the time
was one of the finest universities in Europe. He trained for the Presbyterian ministry
under the auspices of admired teachers like Dugald Stewart, who was an effective
popularizer of Thomas Reid’s philosophy.
After a brief and generally unsuccessful stint as a minister, James Mill moved to London,
where he began his career in letters. This was a difficult path for a man of very modest
resources to take; he and his wife Harriet (married 1805) lived without financial security
for well over a decade. It was only with the publication of his The History of British India in
1818—a work that took twelve years to write—that Mill was able to land a stable, well
paying job at the East India Company that enabled him to support his large family
(ultimately consisting of his wife and nine children).
Throughout the years of relative poverty, James Mill received assistance from friends
including the great legal theorist and utilitarian reformer Jeremy Bentham, whom he met
in 1808. The two men helped lead the movement of “Philosophic Radicals” that gave
intellectual heft to the British Radical party of the early to mid-nineteenth century.
Among their colleagues were David Ricardo, George Grote, Sir William Molesworth, John
Austin, and Francis Place.

This philosophically inspired radicalism of the early nineteenth century positioned itself
against the Whigs and Tories. The Radicals advocated for legal and political reform,
universal male suffrage, the use of economic theory (especially Ricardo’s) in political
decision-making, and a politics oriented by human happiness rather than by
conservatism or by natural rights (which Bentham famously derided as “nonsense upon
stilts”). Moreover, one aspect of their political temperament that distinguished them from
Whigs and Tories was their rationalism—their willingness to recommend re-structuring
social and political institutions under the explicit guidance of principles of reason (e.g.
the principle of utility).

With Bentham’s financial support, the Radicals founded the Westminster Review (1824) to
counter the Whig Edinburgh Review (1802) and the Tory Quarterly Review (1809). While
Whig intellectuals and Radicals tended to align with each other on economic issues, both
tending towards pro-urban, pro-industrial, laissez-faire policies, Tory intellectuals
focused on defending traditional British social structures and ways of life associated with
aristocratic agrarianism. These alliances can be seen in disputes over the Tory-supported
Corn Laws, legislation meant to protect domestic agriculture by taxing imported grains.
Though Whigs and Radicals were often allied (eventually forming the Liberal party in the
1840s), some of the most acrimonious political and intellectual rows of the period were
over their differences (for example, Macaulay’s famous public disputes with James Mill
over political theorizing). James Mill saw the Whigs as too imbued with aristocratic
interests to be a true organ of democratic reform. Only the Radicals could properly
advocate for the middle and working classes. Moreover, unlike the Radicals, who
possessed a systematic politics guided by the principle of utility (the principle that set the
promotion of aggregate happiness as the standard for legislation and action), the Whigs
lacked a systematic politics. The Whigs depended instead on a loose empiricism, which
the senior Mill took as an invitation to complacency. Whigs, alternatively, took exception
to the rationalistic tenor of the Radicals’ politics, seeing in it a dangerous psychological
and historical naiveté. They also reacted to the extremity of the Radicals’ reformist
temperaments, which revealed hostility to the Anglican church and to religion more
generally.
The younger Mill was seen as the crown prince of the Philosophic Radical movement and
his famous education reflected the hopes of his father and Bentham. Under the
dominating gaze of his father, he was taught Greek beginning at age three and Latin at
eight. He read histories, many of the Greek and Roman classics, and Newton by eleven.
He studied logic and math, moving to political economy and legal philosophy in his early
teens, and then went on to metaphysics. His training facilitated active command of the
material through the requirement that he teach his younger siblings and through evening
walks with his father when the precocious pupil would have to tell his father what he had
learned that day. His year in France in 1820 led to a fluency in French and initiated his
life-long interest in French thought and politics. As he matured, his father and Bentham
both employed him as an editor. In addition, he founded a number of intellectual societies
and study groups and began to contribute to periodicals, including the Westminster
Review.
The stress of his education and of his youthful activity combined with other factors to lead
to what he later termed, in his Autobiography, his “mental crisis” of 1826. There have been
a wide variety of attempts to explain what led to this crisis—most of which center around
his relation to his demanding father—but what matters most about the crisis is that it
represents the beginning of Mill’s struggle to revise his father’s and Bentham’s thought,
which he grew to think of as limited in a number of ways. Mill claims that he began to
come out of his depression with the help of poetry (specifically Wordsworth). This
contributed to his sense that while his education had fostered his analytic abilities, it had
left his capacity for feeling underdeveloped. This realization made him re-think the
attachment to the radical, rationalistic strands of Enlightenment thought that his
education was meant to promote.
In response to this crisis, Mill began exploring Romanticism and a variety of other
European intellectual movements that rejected secular, naturalistic, worldly conceptions
of human nature. He also became interested in criticisms of urbanization and
industrialization. These explorations were furthered by the writings of (and frequent
correspondence with) thinkers from a wide sampling of intellectual traditions, including
Thomas Carlyle, Auguste Comte, Alexis de Tocqueville, John Ruskin, M. Gustave
d’Eichtal (and other St. Simonians), Herbert Spencer, Frederick Maurice, and John
Sterling.

The attempt to rectify the perceived deficiencies of the Philosophic Radicals through
engagement with other styles of thought began with Mill’s editing of a new journal,
the London Review, founded by the two Mills and Charles Molesworth. Molesworth quickly
bought out the old Westminster Review in 1834, to leave the new London and Westminster
Review as the unopposed voice of the radicals. With James Mill’s death in 1836 and
Bentham’s 1832 demise, Mill had more intellectual freedom. He used that freedom to
forge a new “philosophic radicalism” that incorporated the insights of thinkers like
Coleridge and Thomas Carlyle. (Collected Works [CW], I.209). One of his principal goals
was “to shew that there was a Radical philosophy, better and more complete than
Bentham’s, while recognizing and incorporating all of Bentham’s which is permanently
valuable.” (CW, I.221).
This project is perhaps best indicated by Mill’s well-known essays of 1838 and 1840 on
Bentham and Coleridge, which were published in the London and Westminster Review. Mill
suggested that Bentham and Coleridge were “the two great seminal minds of England in
their age” and used each essay to show their strengths and weaknesses, implying that a
more complete philosophical position remained open for articulation. Mill would spend
his career attempting to carry that out.
Harriet Taylor, friend, advisor, and eventual wife, helped him with this project. He met
Taylor in 1830 and she was to join James Mill as one of the two most important people in
Mill’s life. Unfortunately for Mill, Taylor was married. After two decades of an intense and
somewhat scandalous platonic relationship, they were married in 1851 after her
husband’s death. Her death in 1858 left him inconsolable.

There has been substantial debate about the nature and extent of Harriet Taylor’s
influence on Mill. Beyond question is that Mill found in her a partner, friend, critic, and
someone who encouraged him. Mill was probably most swayed by her in the realms of
political, ethical, and social thought, but less so in the areas of logic and political economy
(with the possible exception of his views on socialism).

Mill’s day-to-day existence was dominated by his work at the East India Company, though
his job required little time, paid him well, and left him ample opportunity for writing. He
began there in 1826, working under his father, and by his retirement in 1857, he held the
same position as his father, chief examiner, which put him in charge of the memoranda
guiding the company’s policies in India.

On his retirement and after the death of his wife, Mill was recruited to stand for a
Parliamentary seat. Though he was not particularly effective during his one term as an
MP, he participated in three dramatic events. (Capaldi 2004, 326-7). First, Mill attempted
to amend the 1867 Reform Bill to substitute “person” for “man” so that the franchise
would be extended to women. Though the effort failed, it generated momentum for
women’s suffrage. Second, he headed the Jamaica Committee, which pushed
(unsuccessfully) for the prosecution of Governor Eyre of Jamaica, who had imposed
brutal martial law after an uprising by black farmers protesting poverty and
disenfranchisement. Third, Mill used his influence with the leaders of the laboring classes
to defuse a potentially dangerous confrontation between government troops and workers
who were protesting the defeat of the 1866 Reform Bill.

After his term in Parliament ended and he was not re-elected, Mill began spending more
time in France, writing, walking, and living with his wife’s daughter, Helen Taylor. It was
to her that he uttered his last words in 1873, “You know that I have done my work.” He
was buried next to his wife, Harriet.

Though Mill’s influence has waxed and waned since his death, his writings in ethics and
social and political philosophy continue to be read most often. Many of his texts—
particularly On Liberty, Utilitarianism, The Subjection of Women, and his Autobiography—
continue to be reprinted and taught in universities throughout the world.
2. Works
Mill wrote on a startling number of topics. All his major texts, however, play a role in
defending his new philosophic radicalism and the intellectual, moral, political, and social
agendas associated with it.

a. A System of Logic
Though Mill’s biography reveals his openness to intellectual exploration, his most basic
philosophical commitment—to naturalism—never seriously wavers. He is committed to
the idea that our best methods of explaining the world are those employed by the natural
sciences. Anything that we can know about human minds and wills comes from treating
them as part of the causal order investigated by the sciences, rather than as special entities
that lie outside it.

By taking the methods of the natural sciences as the only route to knowledge about the
world, Mill sees himself as rejecting the “German, or a priori view of human knowledge,”
(CW, I.233) or, as he also calls it, “intuitionism,” which was espoused in different ways by
Kant, Reid, and their followers in Britain (e.g. Whewell and Hamilton). Though there are
many differences among intuitionist thinkers, one “grand doctrine” that Mill suggests
they all affirm is the view that “the constitution of the mind is the key to the constitution
of external nature—that the laws of the human intellect have a necessary correspondence
with the objective laws of the universe, such that these may be inferred from those.” (CW,
XI.343). The intuitionist doctrine conceives of nature as being largely or
wholly constituted by the mind rather than more or less imperfectly observed by it. One of
the great dangers presented by this doctrine, from the perspective of Mill’s a
posteriori school, is that it supports the belief that one can know universal truths about
the world through evidence (including intuitions or Kantian categories of the
understanding) provided by the mind alone rather than by nature. If the mind constitutes
the world that we experience, then we can understand the world by understanding the
mind. It was this freedom from appeal to nature and the lack of independent (i.e.
empirical) checks to the knowledge claims associated with it that Mill found so disturbing.
For Mill, the problems with intuitionism extend far beyond the metaphysical and
epistemological to the moral and political. As Mill says in his Autobiography when
discussing his important treatise of 1843, A System of Logic:
The notion that truths external to the mind may be known by intuition or consciousness,
independently of observation and experience, is, I am persuaded, in these times, the great
intellectual support of false doctrines and bad institutions. By the aid of this theory, every
inveterate belief and every intense feeling, of which the origin is not remembered, is enabled
to dispense with the obligation of justifying itself by reason, and is erected into its own all-
sufficient voucher and justification. There never was such an instrument devised for
consecrating all deep-seated prejudices. And the chief strength of this false philosophy in
morals, politics, and religion, lies in the appeal which it is accustomed to make to the
evidence of mathematics and of the cognate branches of physical science. To expel it from
these, is to drive it from its stronghold. (CW, I.233)
This charge against intuitionism, that it frees one from the obligation of justifying one’s
beliefs, has strong roots in philosophic radicalism. We find Bentham, in his 1789 An
Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, attacking non-utilitarian moral
systems for just this reason: “They consist all of them in so many contrivances for avoiding
the obligation of appealing to any external standard, and for prevailing upon the reader
to accept of the author’s sentiment or opinion as a reason and that a sufficient one for
itself.” (IPML, II.14). Mill thus saw his own commitment to the naturalism and empiricism
of the “a posteriori school” of thought as part of a broader social and political agenda that
advocated for reform and also undercut traditional foundations of conservatism.
Intuitionism, however, is often taken to be on much firmer ground than empiricism when
it comes to accounting for our knowledge of mathematics and logic. This is especially true
if one rejects the idea, found in people like Hobbes and Hume, that mathematical
propositions like 2 + 3 = 5 are true merely because of the meaning of the constituents of
the proposition, or, as Hume puts it, because of the proposition’s “relations of ideas.” Mill
agrees with those (including Kant) who maintain that logical and mathematical truths are
not merely linguistic—that they contain substantive, non-linguistic information. But this
leaves Mill with the problem of accounting for the apparent necessity of such truths—a
necessity which seems to rule out their origin in experience. To successfully attack
intuitionism in “its stronghold,” the System of Logic needs to provide alternative grounds
for basic principles of logic and mathematics (e.g. the principle of non-contradiction). In
particular, Mill needs to show how “that peculiar character of what are called necessary
truths” may be explained from experience and association alone.
The object of logic “is to ascertain how we come by that portion of our knowledge (much
the greatest portion) which is not intuitive: and by what criterion we can, in matters not
self-evident, distinguish between things proved and things not proved, between what is
worthy and what is unworthy of belief.” (A System of Logic [System], I.i.1). It should be
noted that logic goes beyond formal logic for Mill and into the conditions of truth more
generally.
The text has the following basic structure. Book I addresses names and propositions.
Books II and III examine deduction and induction, respectively. Book IV discusses a
variety of operations of the mind, including observation, abstraction and naming, which
are presupposed in all induction or instrumental to more complicated forms of induction.
Book V reveals fallacies of reasoning. Finally, in Book VI, Mill treats the “moral sciences”
and argues for the fundamental similarity of the methods of the natural and human
sciences. In fact, the human sciences can be understood as themselves natural sciences
with human objects of study.

i. Names, Propositions, and the Principles of Logic and

Mathematics
Mill’s argument that the principles of mathematics and logic are justified by appeal to
experience depends upon his distinction between verbal and real propositions, that is,
between propositions that do not convey new information to the person who understands
the meaning of the proposition’s terms and those propositions that do convey new
information. The point of the distinction between verbal and real propositions is, first, to
stress that all real propositions are a posteriori. Second, the distinction emphasizes that
verbal propositions are empty of content; they tell us about language (i.e. what words
mean) rather than about the world. In Kantian terms, Mill wants to deny the possibility
of synthetic a priori propositions, while contending that we can still make sense of our
knowledge of subjects like logic and mathematics.
This distinction between verbal and real propositions depends, in turn, upon Mill’s
analysis of the meaning of propositions, i.e. how the meanings of constituents of
propositions determine the meaning of the whole. A proposition, in which something is
affirmed or denied of something, is formed by putting together two “names” or terms
(subject and predicate) and a copula. The subject is the name “denoting the person or
thing which something is affirmed or denied of.” (System, I.i.2). The predicate is “the name
denoting that which is affirmed or denied.” The copula is “the sign denoting that there is
an affirmation or denial,” which thereby enables “the hearer or reader to distinguish a
proposition from any other kind of discourse.” In the proposition ‘gold is yellow’ for
example, the copula ‘is’ shows that the quality yellow is being affirmed of the substance
gold.
Mill divides names into general and singular names. All names, except proper names (e.g.
Ringo, Buckley, etc) and names that signify an attribute only (e.g. whiteness, length), have
a connotation and a denotation. That is, they both connote or imply some attribute(s) and
denote or pick out individuals that fall under that description. The general name “man,”
for example, denotes Socrates, Picasso, Plutarch and an indefinite number of other
individuals, and it does so because they all share some attribute(s) (e.g. rational animal,
featherless biped, etc.) connoted by man. The name “white” denotes all white things and
implies or connotes the attribute whiteness. The word “whiteness,” by contrast, denotes
or signifies an attribute but does not connote an attribute. Instead, it operates like a
proper name in that its meaning derives entirely from what it denotes.
The meaning of a typical proposition is that the thing(s) denoted by the subject has the
attribute(s) connoted by the predicate. In sentences like “Eleanor is tired” and “All men
are mortal,” though the subjects pick out their objects differently (through a proper name
and through an attribute, respectively), Mill’s basic story about the meaning of
propositions holds.

Things become much more difficult with identity statements like “Hesperus is
Phosphorus.” In this case, we have two proper names that pick out the same object (the
planet Venus). Under Mill’s view, these proper names should have the same meaning
because they denote the same object. But this appears untenable because the statement
seems informative. It doesn’t seem plausible that the proposition merely states that an
object is identical with itself, which would be the proposition’s meaning if Mill’s views on
the meaning of proper names were correct. (See Frege and Russell’s attack on Mill’s
account of the meaning of proper names; but see Kripke’s sophisticate defense of Mill on
this in Naming and Necessity).
This discussion of the nature of names or terms enables us to understand Mill’s treatment
of verbal and real propositions. Verbal propositions assert something about the meaning
of names rather than about matters of fact. This means that, “(s)ince names and their
signification are entirely arbitrary, such propositions are not, strictly speaking,
susceptible of truth or falsity, but only of conformity or disconformity to usage or
convention.” (System, I.vi.1). This kind of proposition simply “asserts of a thing under a
particular name, only what is asserted of it in the fact of calling it by that name; and which,
therefore, either gives no information, or gives it respecting the name, not the thing.”
(I.vi.4). As such, verbal propositions are empty of content and they are the only things we
know a priori, independently of checking the correspondence of the proposition to the
world.
Real propositions, in contrast, “predicate of a thing some fact not involved in the
signification of the name by which the proposition speaks of it; some attribute not
connoted by that name.” (I.vi.4). Such propositions convey information that is not already
included in the names or terms employed, and their truth or falsity depends on whether
or not they correspond to relevant features of the world. Thus, “George is on the soccer
team” predicates something of the subject George that is not included in its meaning (in
this case, the denotation of the individual person) and its being true or not depends upon
whether George is, in fact, on the team.
Mill’s great contention in the System of Logic is that logic and mathematics contain real,
rather than merely verbal, propositions. He claims, for example, that the law of
contradiction (i.e. the same proposition cannot at the same time be false and true) and
the law of excluded middle (i.e. either a proposition is true or it is false) are both real
propositions. They are, like the axioms of geometry, experimental truths, not truths
known a priori. They represent generalizations or inductions from observation—very well-
justified inductions, to be sure, but inductions nonetheless. This leads Mill to say that the
necessity typically ascribed to the truths of mathematics and logic by his intuitionist
opponents is an illusion, thereby undermining intuitionist argumentative fortifications at
their strongest point.
A System of Logic thus represents the most thorough attempt to argue for empiricism in
epistemology, logic, and mathematics before the twentieth century (for the best
discussion of this point, see Skorupski 1989). Though revolutionary advances in logic and
philosophy of language in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries have rendered
many of Mill’s technical points about semantics and logic obsolete, the basic philosophical
vision that Mill defends is very much a live option (see, for example, the work of Quine).
ii. Other Topics of Interest
There are some other topics covered in the System of Logic that are of interest. First is
Mill’s treatment of deduction (in the form of the syllogism). His discussion is driven by
one basic concern: Why wouldn’t a deduction simply tell us what we already know? How
can it be informative? Mill discounts two common views about the syllogism, namely, that
it is useless (because it tells us what we already know) and that it is the correct analysis of
what the mind actually does when it discovers truths. To understand why Mill discounts
these ways of thinking about deduction, we need to understand his views on inference.
The key point here is that all inference is from particular to particular. When we infer that
the Duke of Wellington is mortal from “All men are mortal,” what we are really doing is
inferring the Duke’s mortality from the mortality of the individual people with whose
mortality we are familiar. What the mind does in making a deductive inference is not to
move from a universal truth to a particular one. Rather, it moves from truths about a
number of particulars to a smaller number (or one). The general statement that “All men
are mortal” only allows us to more easily register what we know—it reflects neither the
true inference being made nor the warrant or evidence we have for making the inference.
Though general propositions are not necessary for reasoning, they are heuristically useful
(as are the syllogisms that employ them). They aid us in memory and comprehension.
Mill’s famous treatment of induction reveals the a posteriori grounds for belief. He focuses
on four different methods of experimental inquiry that attempt to single out from the
circumstances that precede or follow a phenomenon the ones that are linked to the
phenomenon by an invariable law. (System, III.viii.1). That is, we test to see if a purported
causal connection exists by observing the relevant phenomena under an assortment of
situations. If we wish, for example, to know whether a virus causes a disease, how can we
prove it? What counts as good evidence for such a belief? The four methods of induction
or experimental inquiry—the methods of agreement, of difference, of residues, and of
concomitant variation—provide answers to these questions by showing what we need to
demonstrate in order to claim that a causal law holds. Can we show, using the method of
difference, that when the virus is not present the disease is also absent? If so, then we
have some grounds for believing that the virus causes the disease.
Another issue addressed in A System of Logic that is of abiding interest is Mill’s handling
of free will. Mill’s commitment to naturalism includes treating the human will as a
potential object of scientific study: “Our will causes our bodily actions in the same sense,
and in no other, in which cold causes ice, or a spark causes an explosion of gunpowder.
The volition, a state of our mind, is the antecedent; the motion of our limbs in conformity
to the volition, is the consequent.” (System, III.v.11). The questions that readily arise are
how, under this view, can one take the will to be free and how can we preserve
responsibility and feelings of choice?
In his Autobiography, Mill recounts his own youthful, melancholy acceptance of the
doctrine of “Philosophical Necessity” (advocated by, among others, Robert Owen and his
followers): “I felt as if I was scientifically proved to be the helpless slave of antecedent
circumstances; as if my character and that of all others had been formed for us by agencies
beyond our control, and was wholly out of our own power.” (CW, I.175-7). But it is
precisely the idea that our character is formed for us, not by us, that Mill thinks is a “grand
error.” (System, VI.ii.3). We have the power to alter our own character. Though our own
character is formed by circumstances, among those circumstances are our own desires.
We cannot directly will our characters to be one way rather than another, but we can will
actions that shape those characters.
Mill addresses an obvious objection: what leads us to will to change our character? Isn’t
that determined? Mill agrees. Our desire to change our character is determined largely by
our experience of painful and pleasant consequences associated with our character. For
Mill, however, the important point is that, even if we don’t control the desire to change
our character, we are still left with the feeling of moral freedom, which is the feeling of
being able to modify our own character “if we wish.” (System, VI.ii.3). What Mill wants to
save in the doctrine of free will is simply the feeling that we have “real power over the
formation of our own character.” (CW, I.177). If we have the desire to change our
character, we find that we can. If we lack that desire it is “of no consequence what we think
forms our character,” because we don’t care about altering it. For Mill, this is a thick
enough notion of freedom to avoid fatalism.
One of the basic problems for this kind of naturalistic picture of human beings and wills
is that it clashes with our first-person image of ourselves as reasoners and agents. As Kant
understood, and as the later hermeneutic tradition emphasizes, we think of ourselves as
autonomous followers of objectively given rules (Skorupski 1989, 279). It seems
extremely difficult to provide a convincing naturalistic account of, for example, making a
choice (without explaining away as illusory our first-person experience of making
choices).
The desire to treat the will as an object, like ice or gunpowder, open to natural scientific
study falls within Mill’s broader claim that the moral sciences, which include economics,
history, and psychology among others, are fundamentally similar to the natural sciences.
Though we may have difficulty running experiments in the human realm, that realm and
its objects are, in principle, just as open to the causal explanations we find in physics or
biology.

Perhaps the most interesting element of his analysis of the moral sciences is his
commitment to what has been called “methodological individualism,” or the view that
social and political phenomena are explicable by appeal to the behavior of individuals. In
other words, social facts are reducible to facts about individuals: “The laws of the
phenomena of society are, and can be, nothing but the laws of the actions and passions of
human beings united together in the social state. Men, however, in a state of society, are
still men; their actions and passions are obedient to the laws of individual human nature.
Men are not, when brought together, converted into another kind of substance with
different properties.” (System, VI.vii.1).
This position puts Mill in opposition to Auguste Comte, a founding figure in social theory
(he coined the term “sociology”) and an important influence on, and correspondent with,
Mill. Comte takes sociology rather than psychology to be the most basic of human sciences
and takes individuals and their conduct to be best understood through the lens of social
analysis. To put it simplistically, for Comte, the individual is an abstraction from the
whole—its beliefs and conduct are determined by history and society. We understand the
individual best, on this view, when we see the individual as an expression of its social
institutions and setting. This naturally leads to a kind of historicism. Though Mill
recognized the important influences of social institutions and history on individuals, for
him society is nevertheless only able to shape individuals through affecting their
experiences—experiences structured by universal principles of human psychology that
operate in all times and places. (See Mandelbaum 1971, 167ff).
b. An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s
Philosophy
Mill’s attacks on intuitionism continued throughout his life. One notable example is his
1865 An Examination of Sir William Hamilton’s Philosophy, which revisits much of the same
ground as A System of Logic in the guise of a thorough-going criticism of Hamilton, a
thinker influenced by Reid and Kant whom Mill took as representing “the great fortress
of the intuitional philosophy in this country.” (CW, I.270). The rather hefty volume
explores “some of the disputed questions in the domain of psychology and metaphysics.”
(CW, I.271).
Among the doctrines given most attention is that of the “relativity of knowledge,”
something to which Mill takes Hamilton as insufficiently committed. It is the idea that we
have no access to “things-in-themselves” (thus, the relativity versus absoluteness of
knowledge) and that we are limited to analyzing the phenomena of consciousness. Mill,
who accepts this basic principle, counts himself as a Berkeleian phenomenalist and
famously defines matter in the Examination as “a Permanent Possibility of Sensation,”
(CW, IX.183), thinks that Hamilton accepts this doctrine in a confused manner. “He
affirms without reservation, that certain attributes (extension, figures, etc.) are known to
us as they really exist out of ourselves; and also that all our knowledge of them is relative
to us. And these two assertions are only reconcileable, if relativity to us is understood in
the altogether trivial sense, that we know them only so far as our faculties permit.” (CW,
IX.22). Hamilton therefore seems to want to have his cake and eat it too when it comes to
knowledge of the external world. On the one hand, he wants to declare that we have access
to things as they are, thereby aligning himself with Reid’s project of avoiding the fall into
(Humean) skepticism—a fall prompted by the Lockean “way of ideas.” On the other hand,
he wants to follow Kant in limiting our knowledge of things-in-themselves, thereby
reigning in the pretensions of metaphysical speculation. Mill avoids this dilemma by
rejecting Hamilton’s position that we know things outside as they really are.
One point of historical interest about the Examination is the impact that it had on the way
that the history of philosophy is taught. Mill’s demolition of Hamilton’s reputation led to
the removal of Reid and the school of Scottish “common sense” philosophy from the
curriculum in Britain and America. As Kuklick puts it, the success of Mill’s Examination “is
the crucial event in understanding the development of the contemporary view of Modern
Philosophy in America.” By destroying “the credibility of the entire Scottish reply to
Hume,” Mill’s Examination led Anglo-American philosophers to turn to Kant in the later
part of the nineteenth century in order to find more satisfactory response to Humean
skepticism (Kuklick 1984, 128). Thus, the standard course in Modern Philosophy that
includes all or some of Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz, Locke, Berkeley, Hume, and Kant, is
partly an unintended consequence of the publication of Mill’s attack on Hamilton and on
intuitionism more broadly.
c. Psychological Writings
As noted in the discussion of A System of Logic, Mill’s commitment to “methodological
individualism” makes psychology the foundational moral science. Though he never wrote
a work of his own on psychology, he edited and contributed notes to an 1869 re-issue of
his father’s 1829 work in psychology, Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind, and
reviewed the work of his friend and correspondent, Alexander Bain. All three were
proponents of the associationist school of psychology, whose roots go back to Hobbes and
especially Locke and whose members included Gay, Hartley, and Priestly in the
eighteenth century and the Mills, Bain, and Herbert Spencer in the nineteenth century.
Mill distinguishes between the a posteriori and a priori schools of psychology. The former
“resolves the whole contents of the mind into experience.” (CW, XI.341). The latter
emphasizes that “in every act of thought, down to the most elementary, there is an
ingredient which is not given to the mind, but contributed by the mind in virtue of its
inherent powers.” (CW, XI.344). In the a priori or intuitionist school, experience “instead
of being the source and prototype of our ideas, is itself a product of the mind’s own forces
working on the impressions we receive from without, and has always a mental as well as
an external element.” (CW, XI.344).
The associationist version of a posteriori psychology has two basic doctrines: “first, that
the more recondite phenomena of the mind are formed out of the more simple and
elementary; and, secondly, that the mental law, by means of which this formation takes
place, is the Law of Association.” (CW, XI.345). The associationist psychologists, then,
would attempt to explain mental phenomena by showing them to be the ultimate product
of simpler components of experience (e.g. color, sound, smell, pleasure, pain) connected
to each other through associations. These associations take two basic forms: resemblance
and contiguity in space and/or time. Thus, these psychologists attempt to explain our idea
of an orange or our feelings of greed as the product of simpler ideas connected by
association.
Part of the impulse for this account of psychology is its apparent scientific character and
beauty. Associationism attempts to explain a large variety of mental phenomena on the
basis of experience plus very few mental laws of association. It therefore appeals to those
who are particularly drawn to simplicity in their scientific theories.

Another attraction of associationist psychology, however, is its implications for views on

moral education and social reform. If the contents of our minds, including beliefs and
moral feelings, are products of experiences that we undergo connected according to very
simple laws, then this raises the possibility that human beings are capable of being
radically re-shaped—that our natures, rather than being fixed, are open to major
alteration. In other words, if our minds are cobbled together by laws of association
working on the materials of experience, then this suggests that if our experiences were to
change, so would our minds. This doctrine tends to place much greater emphasis on social
and political institutions like the family, the workplace, and the state, than does the
doctrine that the nature of the mind offers strong resistance to being shaped by experience
(i.e. that the mind molds experience rather than being molded by it). Associationism
thereby fits nicely into an agenda of reform, because it suggests that many of the problems
of individuals are explained by their situations (and the associations that these situations
promote) rather than by some intrinsic feature of the mind. As Mill puts it in
the Autobiography in discussing the conflict between the intuitionist and a
posteriori schools:
The practical reformer has continually to demand that changes be made in things which are
supported by powerful and widely spread feelings, or to question the apparent necessity and
indefeasibleness of established facts; and it is often an indispensable part of his argument to
shew, how these powerful feelings had their origin, and how those facts came to seem
necessary and indefeasible. There is therefore a natural hostility between him and a
philosophy which discourages the explanation of feelings and moral facts by circumstances
and association, and prefers to treat them as ultimate elements of human nature…I have long
felt that the prevailing tendency to regard all the marked distinctions of human character as
innate, and in the main indelible, and to ignore the irresistible proofs that by far the greater
part of those differences, whether between individuals, races, or sexes, are such as not only
might but naturally would be produced by differences in circumstances, is one of the chief
hindrances to the rational treatment of great social questions, and one of the greatest
stumbling blocks to human improvement. (CW, I.269-70).

d. Utilitarianism
Another maneuver in his battle with intuitionism came when Mill
published Utilitarianism (1861) in installments in Fraser’s Magazine (it was later brought
out in book form in 1863). It offers a candidate for a first principle of morality, a principle
that provides us with a criterion distinguishing right and wrong. The utilitarian candidate
is the principle of utility, which holds that “actions are right in proportion as they tend to
promote happiness; wrong as they tend to produce the reverse of happiness. By happiness
is intended pleasure and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain and the privation of
pleasure.” (CW, X.210).
i. History of the Principle of Utility
By Mill’s time, the principle of utility possessed a long history stretching back to the 1730’s
(with roots going further back to Hobbes, Locke, and even to Epicurus). In the eighteenth
and early nineteenth centuries, it had been explicitly invoked by three British intellectual
factions. Though all may have agreed that an action’s consequences for the general
happiness were to dictate its rightness or wrongness, the reasons behind the acceptance
of that principle and the uses to which the principle was put varied greatly.

The earliest supporters of the principle of utility were the religious utilitarians
represented by, among others, John Gay, John Brown, Soame Jenyns, and, most
famously, William Paley, whose 1785 The Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy was
one of the most frequently re-printed and well read books of moral thought of the late
eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries (to Mill’s dismay, Bentham’s utilitarianism was
often conflated with Paley’s). Religious utilitarianism was very popular among the
educated classes and dominated in the universities until the 1830’s. These thinkers were
all deeply influenced by Locke’s empiricism and psychological hedonism and often stood
opposed to the competing moral doctrines of Shaftesbury, Hutcheson, Clarke, and
Wollaston.
The religious utilitarians looked to the Christian God to address a basic problem, namely
how to harmonize the interests of individuals, who are motivated by their own happiness,
with the interests of the society as a whole. Once we understand that what we must do is
what God wills (because of God’s power of eternal sanction) and that God wills the
happiness of his creatures, morality and our own self-interest will be seen to overlap. God
guarantees that an individual’s self-interest lies in virtue, in furthering the happiness of
others. Without God and his sanctions of eternal punishment and reward, it would be
hard to find motives that “are likely to be found sufficient to withhold men from the
gratification of lust, revenge, envy, ambition, avarice.” (Paley 2002 [1785], 39). As we
shall see in a moment, another possible motivation for caring about the general
happiness—this one non-religious—is canvassed by Mill in Chapter Three
of Utilitarianism.
In contrast to religious utilitarianism, which had few aspirations to be a moral theory
that revises ordinary moral attitudes, the two late-eighteenth century secular versions of
utilitarianism grew out of various movements for reform. The principle of utility—and the
correlated commitments to happiness as the only intrinsically desirable end and to the
moral equivalency of the happiness of different individuals—was itself taken to be an
instrument of reform.
One version of secular utilitarianism was represented by William Godwin (husband of
Mary Wollstonecraft and father of Mary Shelley), who achieved great notoriety with the
publication of his Political Justice of 1793. Though his fame (or infamy) was relatively
short-lived, Godwin’s use of the principle of utility for the cause of radical political and
social critique began the identification of utilitarianism with anti-religiosity and with
dangerous democratic values.
The second version of secular utilitarianism, and the one that inspired Mill, arose from
the work of Jeremy Bentham. Bentham, who was much more successful than Godwin at
building a movement around his ideas, employed the principle of utility as a device of
political, social, and legal criticism. It is important to note, however, that Bentham’s
interest in the principle of utility did not arise from concern about ethical theory as much
as from concern about legislative and legal reform.
This history enables us to understand Mill’s invocation of the principle of utility in its
polemical context—Mill’s support of that principle should not be taken as mere
intellectual exercise. In the realm of politics, the principle of utility served to bludgeon
opponents of reform. First and foremost, reform meant extension of the vote. But it also
meant legal reform, including overhaul of the common law system and of legal
institutions, and varieties of social reform, especially of institutions that tended to favor
aristocratic and moneyed interests. Though Bentham and Godwin intended it to have this
function in the late eighteenth century, utilitarianism became influential only when tied
with the political machinery of the Radical party, which had particular prominence on the
English scene in the 1830’s.

In the realm of ethical debate, Mill took his opponents to be the “intuitionists” led by
Sedgwick and Whewell, both Cambridge men. They were the contemporary
representatives of an ethical tradition that understood its history as tied to Butler, Reid,
Coleridge, and turn of the century German thought (especially that of Kant). Though
intuitionists and members of Mill’s a posteriori or “inductive” school recognize “to a great
extent, the same moral laws,” they differ “as to their evidence and the source from which
they derive their authority. According to the one opinion, the principles of morals are
evident a priori, requiring nothing to command assent except that the meaning of the
terms be understood. According to the other doctrine, right and wrong, as well as truth
and falsehood, are questions of observation and experience.” (CW, X.206).
The chief danger represented by the proponents of intuitionism was not from the ethical
content of their theories per se, which defended honesty, justice, benevolence, etc., but
from the kinds of justifications offered for their precepts and the support such a view lent
to the social and political status quo. As we saw in the discussion of the System of Logic and
with reference to Mill’s statements in his Autobiography, he takes intuitionism to be
dangerous because it allegedly enables people to ratify their own prejudices as moral
principles—in intuitionism, there is no “external standard” by which to adjudicate
differing moral claims (for example, Mill understood Kant’s categorical imperative as
getting any moral force it possesses either from considerations of utility or from mere
prejudice hidden by hand-waving). The principle of utility, alternatively, evaluates moral
claims by appealing to the external standard of pain and pleasure. It presented each
individual for moral consideration as someone capable of suffering and enjoyment.
ii. Basic Argument
Mill’s defense of the principle of utility in Utilitarianism includes five chapters. In the first,
Mill sets out the problem, distinguishes between the intuitionist and “inductive” schools
of morality, and also suggests limits to what we can expect from proofs of first principles
of morality. He argues that “(q)uestions of ultimate ends are not amenable to direct
proof.” (CW, X.207). All that can be done is to present considerations “capable of
determining the intellect either to give or withhold its assent to the doctrine; and this is
equivalent to proof.” (CW, X.208). Ultimately, he will want to prove in Chapter Four the
basis for the principle of utility—that happiness is the only intrinsically desirable thing—
by showing that we spontaneously accept it on reflection. (Skorupski 1989, 8). It is rather
easy to show that happiness is something we desire intrinsically, not for the sake of other
things. What is hard is to show that it is the only thing we intrinsically desire or value. Mill
agrees that we do not always value things like virtue as means or instruments to
happiness. We do sometimes seem to value such things for their own sakes. Mill contends,
however, that on reflection we will see that when we appear to value them for their own
sakes we are actually valuing them as parts of happiness (rather than as intrinsically
desirable on their own or as means to happiness). That is, we value virtue, freedom, etc.
as things that make us happy by their mere possession. This is all the proof we can give
that happiness is our only ultimate end; it must rely on introspection and on careful and
honest examination of our feelings and motives.
In Chapter Two, Mill corrects misconceptions about the principle of utility. One
misconception is that utilitarianism, by endorsing the Epicurean view “that life has…no
higher end than pleasure” is a “doctrine worthy only of swine.” (CW, X.210). Mill counters
that “the accusation supposes human beings to be capable of no pleasures except those of
which swine are capable.” (CW, X.210). He proffers a distinction (one not found in
Bentham) between higher and lower pleasures, with higher pleasures including mental,
aesthetic, and moral pleasures. When we are evaluating whether or not an action is good
by evaluating the happiness that we can expect to be produced by it, he argues that higher
pleasures should be taken to be in kind (rather than by degree) preferable to lower
pleasures. This has led scholars to wonder whether Mill’s utilitarianism differs
significantly from Bentham’s and whether Mill’s distinction between higher and lower
pleasures creates problems for our ability to know what will maximize aggregate
happiness.
A second objection to the principle of utility is that “it is exacting too much to require that
people shall always act from the inducement of promoting the general interest of society.”
(CW, X.219). Mill replies that this is to “confound the rule of action with the motive of it.”
(CW, X.219). Ethics is supposed to tell us what our duties are, “but no system of ethics
requires that the sole motive of all we do shall be a feeling of duty; on the contrary, ninety-
nine hundredths of all our actions are done from other motives, and rightly so done if the
rule of duty does not condemn them.” (CW, X.219). To do the right thing, in other words,
we do not need to be constantly motivated by concern for the general happiness. The large
majority of actions intend the good of individuals (including ourselves) rather than the
good of the world. Yet the world’s good is made up of the good of the individuals that
constitute it and unless we are in the position of, say, a legislator, we act properly by
looking to private rather than to public good. Our attention to the public well-being
usually needs to extend only so far as is required to know that we aren’t violating the rights
of others.
Chapter Three addresses the topic of motivation again by focusing on the following
question: What is the source of our obligation to the principle of utility? What, in other
words, motivates us to act in ways approved of by the principle of utility? With any moral
theory, one must remember that ‘ought implies can,’ i.e. that if moral demands are to be
legitimate, we must be the kind of beings that can meet those demands. Mill defends the
possibility of a strong utilitarian conscience (i.e. a strong feeling of obligation to the
general happiness) by showing how such a feeling can develop out of the natural desire
we have to be in unity with fellow creatures—a desire that enables us to care what happens
to them and to perceive our own interests as linked with theirs. Though Chapter Two
showed that we do not need to attend constantly to the general happiness, it is
nevertheless a sign of moral progress when the happiness of others, including the
happiness of those we don’t know, becomes important to us.

Finally, Chapter Five shows how utilitarianism accounts for justice. In particular, Mill
shows how utilitarianism can explain the special status we seem to grant to justice and to
the violations of it. Justice is something we are especially keen to defend. Mill begins by
marking off morality (the realm of duties) from expediency and worthiness by arguing
that duties are those things we think people ought to be punished for not fulfilling. He
then suggests that justice is demarcated from other areas of morality, because it includes
those duties to which others have correlative rights, “Justice implies something which it
is not only right to do, and wrong not to do, but which some individual person can claim
from us as his moral right.” (CW, X.247). Though no one has a right to my charity, even if
I have a duty to be charitable, others have rights not to have me injure them or to have
me repay what I have promised.
Critics of utilitarianism have placed special emphasis on its inability to provide a
satisfactory account of rights. For Mill, to have a right is “to have something which society
ought to defend me in the possession of. If the objector goes on to ask why it ought, I can
give no other reason than general utility.” (CW, X.250). But what if the general utility
demands that we violate your rights? The intuition that something is wrong if your rights
can be violated for the sake of the general good provoked the great challenge to utilitarian
conceptions of justice, leveled with special force by twentieth century thinkers like John
Rawls.
e. On Liberty
The topic of justice received further treatment at Mill’s hands in his famous 1859 book On
Liberty. This work is the one, along with A System of Logic, that Mill thought would have
the most longevity. It concerns civil and social liberty or, to look at it from the contrary
point of view, the nature and limits of the power that can legitimately be exercised by
society over the individual.
Mill begins by retelling the history of struggle between rulers and ruled and suggests that
social rather than political tyranny is the greater danger for modern, commercial nations
like Britain. This social “tyranny of the majority” (a phrase Mill takes from Tocqueville)
arises from the enforcement of rules of conduct that are both arbitrary and strongly
adhered to. The practical principle that guides the majority “to their opinions on the
regulation of human conduct, is the feeling in each person’s mind that everybody should
be required to act as he, and those with whom he sympathizes, would like them to act.”
(On Liberty [OL], 48). Such a feeling is particularly dangerous because it is taken to be self-
justifying and self-evident.
There is a need, therefore, for a rationally grounded principle which governs a society’s
dealings with individuals. This “one very simple principle”—often called the “harm
principle”—entails that:

[T]he sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively, in interfering
with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for
which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against
his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient
warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him
to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinion of others, to do so would
be wise, or even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with
him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for compelling him, or visiting him with
any evil in case he do otherwise. (OL, 51-2)
This anti-paternalistic principle identifies three basic regions of human liberty: the
“inward domain of consciousness,” liberty of tastes and pursuits (i.e. of framing our own
life plan), and the freedom to unite with others.

Mill, unlike other liberal theorists, makes no appeal to “abstract right” in order to justify
the harm principle. The reason for accepting the freedom of individuals to act as they
choose, so long as they cause minimal or no harm to others, is that it would promote
“utility in the largest sense, grounded on the permanent interests of man as a progressive
being.” (OL, 53). In other words, abiding by the harm principle is desirable because it
promotes what Mill calls the “free development of individuality” or the development of
our humanity.
Behind this rests the idea that humanity is capable of progress—that latent or
underdeveloped abilities and virtues can be actualized under the right conditions. Human
nature is not static. It is not merely re-expressed in generations and individuals. It is “not
a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly the work prescribed for it, but a
tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of
the inward forces which make it a living thing.” (OL, 105). Though human nature can be
thought of as something living, it is also, like an English garden, something amenable to
improvement through effort. “Among the works of man, which human life is rightly
employed in perfecting and beautifying, the first in importance surely is man himself.”
(OL, 105). The two conditions that promote development of our humanity are freedom
and variety of situation, both of which the harm principle encourages.
A basic philosophical problem presented by the work is what counts as “harm to others.”
Where should we mark the boundary between conduct that is principally self-regarding
versus conduct that involves others? Does drug-use cause harm to others sufficient to be
prevented? Does prostitution? Pornography? Should polygamy be allowed? How about
public nudity? Though these are difficult questions, Mill provides the reader with a
principled way of deliberating about them.

f. The Subjection of Women and Other Social and

Political Writings
Many volumes of Mill’s writings deal with topics of social and political concern. These
include writings on specific political problems in India, America, Ireland, France, and
England, on the nature of democracy (Considerations on Representative Government) and
civilization, on slavery, on law and jurisprudence, on the workplace, and on the family
and the status of women. The last subject was the topic of Mill’s well-known The Subjection
of Women, an important work in the history of feminism.
The radical nature of Mill’s call for women’s equality is often lost to us after over a century
of protest and changing social attitudes. Yet the subordination of women to men when
Mill was writing remains striking. Among other indicators of this subordination are the
following: (1) British women had fewer grounds for divorce than men until 1923; (2)
Husbands controlled their wives personal property (with the occasional exception of land)
until the Married Women’s Property Acts of 1870 and 1882; (3) Children were the
husband’s; (4) Rape was impossible within a marriage; and (5) Wives lacked crucial
features of legal personhood, since the husband was taken as the representative of the
family (thereby eliminating the need for women’s suffrage). This gives some indication of
how disturbing and/or ridiculous the idea of a marriage between equals could appear to
Victorians.

The object of the essay was to show “(t)hat the principle which regulates the existing social
relations between the two sexes—the legal subordination of one sex to the other—is wrong
in itself, and now one of the chief hindrances to human improvement; and that it ought
to be replaced by a principle of perfect equality, admitting no power or privilege on the
one side, nor disability on the other.” (CW, XXI.261). This shows how Mill appeals to both
the patent injustice of contemporary familial arrangements and to the negative moral
impact of those arrangements on the people within them. In particular, he discusses the
ways in which the subordination of women negatively affects not only the women, but
also the men and children in the family. This subordination stunts the moral and
intellectual development of women by restricting their field of activities, pushing them
either into self-sacrifice or into selfishness and pettiness. Men, alternatively, either
become brutal through their relationships with women or turn away from projects of self-
improvement to pursue the social “consideration” that women desire.
It is important to note that Mill’s concern for the status of women dovetails with the rest
of his thought—it is not a disconnected issue. For example, his support for women’s
equality was buttressed by associationism, which claims that minds are created by
associative laws operating on experience. This implies that if we change the experiences
and upbringing of women, then their minds will change. This enabled Mill to argue
against those who tried to suggest that the subordination of women to men reflected a
natural order that women were by nature incapable of equality with men. If many women
were incapable of true friendship with noble men, says Mill, that is not a result of their
natures, but of their faulty environments.

g. Principles of Political Economy

Another work that addresses issues of social and political concern is Mill’s Principles of
Political Economy of 1848. The book went through numerous editions and served as the
dominant British textbook in economics until being displaced by Alfred Marshall’s
1890 Principles of Economics. Mill intended the work as both a survey of contemporary
economic thought (highlighting the theories of David Ricardo, but also including some
contributions of his own on topics like international trade) and as an exploration of
applications of economic ideas to social concerns. It was “not a book merely of abstract
science, but also of application, and treated Political Economy not as a thing by itself, but
as a fragment of a greater whole.” (CW, I.243). These two interests nicely divide the text
into the first three more technical books on production, distribution, and exchange and
the last two books, which address the influences of societal progress and of government
on economic activity (and vice versa). The technical work is largely obsolete. Mill’s
relating of economics and society, however, remains of great interest.
In particular, Mill shared concerns with others (e.g. Carlyle, Coleridge, Southey, etc.)
about the moral impact of industrialization. Though many welcomed the material wealth
produced by industrialization, there was a sense that those very cornerstones of British
economic growth—the division of labor (including the increasing simplicity and
repetitiveness of the work) and the growing size of factories and businesses—led to a
spiritual and moral deadening.

Coleridge expressed this in his contrast of mere “civilization” with “cultivation”:

The permanency of the nation…and its progressiveness and personal freedom…depend on a

continuing and progressive civilization. But civilization is itself but a mixed good, if not far
more a corrupting influence, the hectic of disease, not the bloom of health, and a nation so
distinguished more fitly to be called a varnished than a polished people, where this
civilization is not grounded in cultivation, in the harmonious development of those qualities
and faculties that characterize our humanity. We must be men in order to be citizens.
(Coleridge 1839, 46).
“Civilization” expresses central features of modernization, including industrialism,
cosmopolitanism, and increasing material wealth. But, for Coleridge, civilization needed
to be subordinated to cultivation of our humanity (expressed in terms similar to those
later found in On Liberty).
This concern for the moral impact of economic growth explains, among other things, his
commitment to a brand of socialism. In an essay on the French historian Michelet, Mill
praises the monastic associations of Italy and France after the reforms of St. Benedict:
“Unlike the useless communities of contemplative ascetics in the East, they were diligent
in tilling the earth and fabricating useful products; they knew and taught that temporal
work may also be a spiritual exercise.” (CW, XX.240). It was the desire to transform
temporal work into a spiritual and moral exercise that led Mill to favor socialist changes
in the workplace.
In order to transform the workplace from a setting filled with antagonism into a “school
of sympathy” that would enable workers to feel a part of something greater than
themselves—thereby mitigating the rampant selfishness encouraged by industrial
society—Mill recommends “industrial co-operatives.” Mill thought that these co-
operatives had the advantage over communes or other socialist institutions because they
were able to compete against traditional firms (his complaint against many other
socialists is that they undervalued competition as a morally useful stimulus to activity).
These co-operatives can take two forms: a profit-sharing system in which worker pay is
tied to the success of the business or a worker co-operative in which workers share
ownership of capital. The latter was preferable because it turned all the workers into
entrepreneurs, calling upon many of the faculties that mere labor for pay left to atrophy.

Though Mill contended that laborers were generally unfit for socialism given their current
level of education and development, he thought that modern industrial societies should
take small steps towards fostering co-operatives. Included among these steps was the
institution of limited partnerships. Up to Mill’s time, partners shared full liability for
losses, including any personal property they owned—obviously a strong deterrent to the
founding of worker co-operatives.

Mill’s recommendations for the economic organization of society, like his political and
social policies, always paid careful attention to how institutions, laws, and practices
impacted the intellectual, moral, and affective well-being of the individuals operating
under or within them.

h. Essays on Religion
Mill’s criticism of traditional religious doctrines and institutions and his promotion of the
“Religion of Humanity,” also depended largely on concerns about human cultivation and
education. Though the Benthamite “philosophic radicals,” including Mill, took
Christianity to be a particularly pernicious superstition that fostered indifference or
hostility to human happiness (the keystone of utilitarian morality), Mill also thought that
religion could potentially serve important ethical needs by supplying us with “ideal
conceptions grander and more beautiful than we see realized in the prose of human life.”
(CW, X.419). In so doing, religion elevates our feelings, cultivates sympathy with others,
and imbues even our smallest activities with a sense of purpose.
The posthumously published three Essays on Religion (1874)—on “Nature,” the “Utility of
Religion,” and “Theism”—criticized traditional religious views and formulated an
alternative in the guise of the Religion of Humanity. Along with the criticism of religion’s
moral effects that he shared with the Benthamites, Mill was also critical of the intellectual
laziness that permitted belief in an omnipotent and benevolent God. He felt, following his
father, that the world as we find it could not possibly have come from such a God given
the evils rampant in it; either his power is limited or he is not wholly benevolent.
Beyond attacking arguments concerning the essence of God, Mill undermines a variety of
arguments for his existence including all a priori arguments. He concludes that the only
legitimate proof of God is an a posteriori and probabilistic argument from the design of
the universe – the traditional argument (stemming from Aristotle) that complex features
of the world, like the eye, are unlikely to have arisen by chance, hence there must be a
designer. (Mill acknowledges the possibility that Darwin, in his 1859 The Origin of Species,
has provided a wholly naturalistic explanation of such features, but he suggests that it is
too early to judge of Darwin’s success).
Inspired by Comte, Mill finds an alternative to traditional religion in the Religion of
Humanity, in which an idealized humanity becomes an object of reverence and the
morally useful features of traditional religion are supposedly purified and accentuated.
Humanity becomes an inspiration by being placed imaginatively within the drama of
human history, which has a destination or point, namely the victory of good over evil. As
Mill puts it, history should be seen as “the unfolding of a great epic or dramatic action,”
which terminates “in the happiness or misery, the elevation or degradation, of the human
race.” It is “an unremitting conflict between good and evil powers, of which every act done
by any of us, insignificant as we are, forms one of the incidents.” (CW, XXI.244). As we
begin to see ourselves as participants in this Manichean drama, as fighting alongside
people like Socrates, Newton, and Jesus to secure the ultimate victory of good over evil,
we become capable of greater sympathy, moral feeling, and an ennobled sense of the
 meaning of our own lives. The Religion of Humanity thereby acts as an instrument of
human cultivation.
3. Conclusion
Mill’s intellect engaged with the world rather than fled from it. His was not an ivory tower
philosophy, even when dealing with the most abstract of philosophical topics. His work is
of enduring interest because it reflects how a fine mind struggled with and attempted to
synthesize important intellectual and cultural movements. He stands at the intersections
of conflicts between enlightenment and romanticism, liberalism and conservatism, and
historicism and rationalism. In each case, as someone interested in conversation rather
than pronouncement, he makes sincere efforts to move beyond polemic into sustained
and thoughtful analysis. That analysis produced challenging answers to problems that
still remain. Whether or not one agrees with his answers, Mill serves as a model for
thinking about human problems in a serious and civilized way.

4. References and Further Reading

* = works of note.

Primary Texts
 Bentham, Jeremy. Deontology together with A Table of the Springs of Action and The Article on
Utilitarianism. Edited by Amnon Goldworth. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1983.
 Bentham, Jeremy. An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation. Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1996.
 Bentham, Jeremy. The Works of Jeremy Bentham. Edited by John Bowring. 10 vols. New York: Russell and
Russell, 1962.
 Carlyle, Thomas. A Carlyle Reader. Edited by G.B. Tennyson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1984.
 Carlyle, Thomas. Critical and Miscellaneous Essays. Philadelphia: Casey and Hart, 1845.
 Carlyle, Thomas. Past and Present. London: Ward, Lock, and Bowden, Ltd., 1897.
 Coleridge, S.T.C. On the Constitution of the Church and State According to the Idea of Each (3rd Edition),
and Lay Sermons (2nd Edition). London: William Pickering, 1839.
 Comte, Auguste. A General View of Positivism. 1848. Reprint. Dubuque, Iowa: Brown Reprints, 1971.
 Mill, James. An Analysis of the Phenomena of the Human Mind. Edited and with Notes by John Stuart Mill.
London: Longmans, Green and Dyer, 1869.
 *Mill, John Stuart. The Collected Works of John Stuart Mill. Gen. Ed. John M. Robson. 33 vols. Toronto:
University of Toronto Press, 1963-91.
 The standard scholarly editions including Mill’s published works, letters, and notes; an
outstanding resource.
 Mill, John Stuart. A System of Logic. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1874.
 Mill, John Stuart. On Liberty. Peterborough, Canada: Broadview Press, 1999.
 Paley, William. The Principles of Moral and Political Philosophy. Indianapolis: Liberty Press, 2002 [1785].

Secondary Texts
 Britton, Karl. ‘John Stuart Mill on Christianity.’ In James and John Stuart Mill: Papers of the Centenary
Conference, John Robson and Michael Laine (eds.). Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1976.
 *Capaldi, Nicholas. John Stuart Mill: A Biography. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004.
 A recent and very thorough treatment of Mill’s life and work.
 Carlisle, Janice. John Stuart Mill and the Writing of Character. Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press,
1991.
 Collini, Stefan. ‘The Idea of “Character” in Victorian Political Thought.’ Transactions of the Royal Historical
Society, 5th series, 35 (1985), 29-50.
 *Collini, Stefan. Public Moralists, Political Thought and Intellectual Life in Great Britain 1850-1930.
Oxford: Clarendon, 1991.
 A useful history that includes discussion of Mill’s intellectual and institutional context.
 *Collini, Stefan, Donald Winch, and John Burrow. That Noble Science of Politics: A Study in Nineteenth-
century Intellectual History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983.
 Very valuable work on nineteenth century British political discourse; includes discussion of
the Philosophic Radicals.
 Donner, Wendy. The Liberal Self: John Stuart Mill’s Moral and Political Philosophy. Ithaca: Cornell Univ.
Press, 1991.
 Harrison, Brian. ‘State Intervention and Moral Reform in nineteeth-century England.’ In Pressure from
Without in Early Victorian England, edited by Patricia Hollis, 289-322. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1974.
 *Halevy, Elie. The Growth of Philosophical Radicalism. Translated by Mary Morris. Boston: The Beacon
Press, 1955.
 Though originally published in 1904, this is still a seminal work in the history of utilitarianism.
 Hamburger, Joseph. ‘Religion and “On Liberty.”’ In A Cultivated Mind: Essays on J.S. Mill Presented to John
M. Robson, edited by Michael Laine, 139-81. Toronto: Univ. of Toronto Press, 1961.
 Harrison, Ross. Bentham. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983.
 Hedley, Douglas. Coleridge, Philosophy and Religion: Aids to Reflection and the Mirror of the Spirit.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000.
 Heydt, Colin. ‘Narrative, Imagination, and the Religion of Humanity in Mill’s Ethics.’ Journal of the History
of Philosophy, vol. 44, no. I (Jan. 2006), 99-115.
 Heydt, Colin. ‘Mill, Bentham, and “Internal Culture”.’ British Journal for the History of Philosophy, vol. 14,
no. 2 (May 2006), 275-302.
 Heydt, Colin. Rethinking Mill’s Ethics: Character and Aesthetic Education. London: Continuum Press,
2006.
 *Hollander, Samuel. The Economics of John Stuart Mill (Toronto: UTP and Oxford: Blackwell), 1985:
Volume I, Theory and Method. Volume II, Political Economy, 482-1030.
 The seminal work on Mill’s economics.
 Jenkyns, Richard. The Victorians and Ancient Greece. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1980.
 Jones, H. S. ‘John Stuart Mill as Moralist.’ Journal of the History of Ideas 53 (1992): 287-308.
 Kuklick, Bruce. ‘Seven thinkers and how they grew: Descartes, Spinoza, Leibniz; Locke, Berkeley, Hume;
Kant.’ In Philosophy in History, Rorty, Schneewind, Skinner (eds.). Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1984.
 *Mandelbaum, M. History, Man and Reason. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Univ. Press, 1971.
 An excellent intellectual history of Europe in the nineteenth century; contains very valuable
discussions of Mill.
 Matz, Lou. ‘The Utility of Religious Illusion: A Critique of J.S. Mill’s Religion of Humanity.’ Utilitas 12
(2000): 137-154.
 Millar, Alan. ‘Mill on Religion.’ In The Cambridge Companion to Mill, John Skorupski (ed.). Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1998.
 *Packe, Michael. The Life of John Stuart Mill. New York: MacMillan Company, 1954.
 Prior to Capaldi’s, the standard life; still contains useful biographical detail.
 Raeder, Linda C. John Stuart Mill and the Religion of Humanity. Columbia: University of Missouri Press,
2002.
 Robson, John M. The Improvement of Mankind: The Social and Political Thought of John Stuart Mill.
Toronto: Toronto Univ. Press, 1968.
 Robson, John. ‘J.S. Mill’s Theory of Poetry.’ In Mill: A Collection of Critical Essays, J. B. Schneewind, (ed.).
London: MacMillan, 1968.
 Ryan, Alan. The Philosophy of John Stuart Mill. London: MacMillan, 1970.
 *Ryan, Alan. J.S. Mill. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974.
 A nice introduction to Mill’s writings and central arguments.
 *Schneewind, J. B. Sidgwick’s Ethics and Victorian Moral Philosophy. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977.
 Still easily the best extant treatment of Victorian moral philosophy; includes extremely
valuable examination of the conflict between utilitarianism and intuitionism.
 Sen, Amartya, and Bernard Williams, eds. Utilitarianism and Beyond. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press,
1982.
 Shanely, Mary Lyndon. ‘Marital Slavery and Friendship: John Stuart Mill’s The Subjection of
Women.’ Political Theory, Vol. 9, No. 2 (May 1981), 229-247.
 Shanley, Mary Lyndon. ‘Suffrage, Protective Labor Legislation, and Married Women’s Property Laws in
England.’ Signs, Vol. 12, No. 1 (1986).
 *Skorupski, John. John Stuart Mill. London: Routledge, 1989.
 Unquestionably, the best single book on Mill’s general philosophy.
 Skorupski, John. ‘Introduction.’ In The Cambridge Companion to Mill, edited by John Skorupski.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998.
 *Skorupski, John (editor). The Cambridge Companion to Mill. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
1998.
 Includes a number of important articles and an extensive (though by now a little dated)
bibliography.
 Smart, J.J.C. ‘Extreme and Restricted Utilitarianism.’ The Philosophical Quarterly, (October 1956), 344-
354.
 *Thomas, William. The Philosophic Radicals: Nine Studies in Theory and Practice 1817-1841. Oxford:
Clarendon Press, 1979.
 Very good resource for Philosophic Radicalism.
 Turner, Michael J. “Radical Opinion in an Age of Reform: Thomas Perronet Thompson and
the Westminster Review,” History, Vol. 86 (2001), Issue 281, 18-40.
 Williams, Raymond. Culture and Society 1780-1950. New York: Columbia University Press, 1983.
 *Wilson, Fred. Psychological Analysis and the Philosophy of John Stuart Mill. Toronto: Toronto Univ. Press,
1990.
 Most thorough treatment of Mill’s psychological views.

Jeremy Bentham (1748—1832)

Jeremy Bentham was an English philosopher and

political radical. He is primarily known today for his moral philosophy, especially his
principle of utilitarianism, which evaluates actions based upon their consequences. The
relevant consequences, in particular, are the overall happiness created for everyone
affected by the action. Influenced by many enlightenment thinkers, especially empiricists
such as John Locke and David Hume, Bentham developed an ethical theory grounded in a
largely empiricist account of human nature. He famously held a hedonistic account of
both motivation and value according to which what is fundamentally valuable and what
ultimately motivates us is pleasure and pain. Happiness, according to Bentham, is thus a
matter of experiencing pleasure and lack of pain.
Although he never practiced law, Bentham did write a great deal of philosophy of law,
spending most of his life critiquing the existing law and strongly advocating legal reform.
Throughout his work, he critiques various natural accounts of law which claim, for
example, that liberty, rights, and so on exist independent of government. In this way,
Bentham arguably developed an early form of what is now often called "legal positivism."
Beyond such critiques, he ultimately maintained that putting his moral theory into
consistent practice would yield results in legal theory by providing justification for social,
political, and legal institutions.
Bentham's influence was minor during his life. But his impact was greater in later years
as his ideas were carried on by followers such as John Stuart Mill, John Austin, and
other consequentialists.

Table of Contents
1. Life
2. Method
3. Human Nature
4. Moral Philosophy
5. Political Philosophy
a. Law, Liberty and Government
b. Rights
6. References and Further Reading
. Bentham's Works
a. Secondary Sources
1. Life
A leading theorist in Anglo-American philosophy of law and one of the founders of
utilitarianism, Jeremy Bentham was born in Houndsditch, London on February 15, 1748.
He was the son and grandson of attorneys, and his early family life was colored by a mix
of pious superstition (on his mother's side) and Enlightenment rationalism (from his
father). Bentham lived during a time of major social, political and economic change. The
Industrial Revolution (with the massive economic and social shifts that it brought in its
wake), the rise of the middle class, and revolutions in France and America all were
reflected in Bentham's reflections on existing institutions. In 1760, Bentham entered
Queen's College, Oxford and, upon graduation in 1764, studied law at Lincoln's Inn.
Though qualified to practice law, he never did so. Instead, he devoted most of his life to
writing on matters of legal reform—though, curiously, he made little effort to publish
much of what he wrote.
Bentham spent his time in intense study, often writing some eight to twelve hours a day.
While most of his best known work deals with theoretical questions in law, Bentham was
an active polemicist and was engaged for some time in developing projects that proposed
various practical ideas for the reform of social institutions. Although his work came to
have an important influence on political philosophy, Bentham did not write any single
text giving the essential principles of his views on this topic. His most important
theoretical work is the Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (1789), in
which much of his moral theory—which he said reflected "the greatest happiness
principle"—is described and developed.
In 1781, Bentham became associated with the Earl of Shelburne and, through him, came
into contact with a number of the leading Whig politicians and lawyers. Although his work
was admired by some at the time, Bentham's ideas were still largely unappreciated. In
1785, he briefly joined his brother Samuel in Russia, where he pursued his writing with
even more than his usual intensity, and he devised a plan for the now infamous
"Panopticon"—a model prison where all prisoners would be observable by (unseen)
guards at all times—a project which he had hoped would interest the Czarina Catherine
the Great. After his return to England in 1788, and for some 20 years thereafter, Bentham
pursued—fruitlessly and at great expense—the idea of the panopticon. Fortunately, an
inheritance received in 1796 provided him with financial stability. By the late 1790s,
Bentham's theoretical work came to have a more significant place in political reform. Still,
his influence was, arguably, still greater on the continent. (Bentham was made an
honorary citizen of the fledgling French Republic in 1792, and his The Theory of
Legislation was published first, in French, by his Swiss disciple, Etienne Dumont, in 1802.)
The precise extent of Bentham's influence in British politics has been a matter of some
debate. While he attacked both Tory and Whig policies, both the Reform Bill of 1832
(promoted by Bentham's disciple, Lord Henry Brougham) and later reforms in the
century (such as the secret ballot, advocated by Bentham's friend, George Grote, who was
elected to parliament in 1832) reflected Benthamite concerns. The impact of Bentham's
ideas goes further still. Contemporary philosophical and economic vocabulary (for
example, "international," "maximize," "minimize," and "codification") is indebted to
Bentham's proclivity for inventing terms, and among his other disciples were James Mill
and his son, John (who was responsible for an early edition of some of Bentham's
manuscripts), as well as the legal theorist, John Austin.

At his death in London, on June 6, 1832, Bentham left literally tens of thousands of
manuscript pages—some of which was work only sketched out, but all of which he hoped
would be prepared for publication. He also left a large estate, which was used to finance
the newly-established University College, London (for those individuals excluded from
university education—that is, non-conformists, Catholics and Jews), and his
cadaver, per his instructions, was dissected, embalmed, dressed, and placed in a chair,
and to this day resides in a cabinet in a corridor of the main building of University College.
The Bentham Project, set up in the early 1960s at University College, has as its aim the
publishing of a definitive, scholarly edition of Bentham's works and correspondence.
2. Method
Influenced by the philosophes of the Enlightenment (such as Beccaria, Helvétius, Diderot,
D'Alembert, and Voltaire) and also by Locke and Hume, Bentham's work combined an
empiricist approach with a rationalism that emphasized conceptual clarity and deductive
argument. Locke's influence was primarily as the author of the Enquiry Concerning Human
Understanding, and Bentham saw in him a model of one who emphasized the importance
of reason over custom and tradition and who insisted on precision in the use of terms.
Hume's influence was not so much on Bentham's method as on his account of the
underlying principles of psychological associationism and on his articulation of the
principle of utility, which was then still often annexed to theological views.
Bentham's analytical and empirical method is especially obvious when one looks at some
of his main criticisms of the law and of moral and political discourse in general. His
principal target was the presence of "fictions"—in particular, legal fictions. On his view,
to consider any part or aspect of a thing in abstraction from that thing is to run the risk of
confusion or to cause positive deceit. While, in some cases, such "fictional" terms as
"relation," "right," "power," and "possession" were of some use, in many cases their
original warrant had been forgotten, so that they survived as the product of either
prejudice or inattention. In those cases where the terms could be "cashed out" in terms of
the properties of real things, they could continue to be used, but otherwise they were to
be abandoned. Still, Bentham hoped to eliminate legal fictions as far as possible from the
law, including the legal fiction that there was some original contract that explained why
there was any law at all. He thought that, at the very least, clarifications and justifications
could be given that avoided the use of such terms.

3. Human Nature
For Bentham, morals and legislation can be described scientifically, but such a description
requires an account of human nature. Just as nature is explained through reference to the
laws of physics, so human behavior can be explained by reference to the two primary
motives of pleasure and pain; this is the theory of psychological hedonism.

There is, Bentham admits, no direct proof of such an analysis of human motivation—
though he holds that it is clear that, in acting, all people implicitly refer to it. At the
beginning of the Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, Bentham writes:
Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign
masters, pain and pleasure. It is for them alone to point out what we ought to do, as well as
to determine what we shall do. On the one hand the standard of right and wrong, on the other
the chain of causes and effects, are fastened to their throne. They govern us in all we do, in
all we say, in all we think: every effort we can make to throw off our subjection, will serve
but to demonstrate and confirm it. (Ch. 1)
From this we see that, for Bentham, pleasure and pain serve not only as explanations for
action, but they also define one's good. It is, in short, on the basis of pleasures and pains,
which can exist only in individuals, that Bentham thought one could construct a calculus
of value.

Related to this fundamental hedonism is a view of the individual as exhibiting a natural,

rational self-interest—a form of psychological egoism. In his "Remarks on Bentham's
Philosophy" (1833), Mill cites Bentham's The Book of Fallacies (London: Hunt, 1824, pp.
392-3) that "[i]n every human breast... self-regarding interest is predominant over social
interest; each person's own individual interest over the interests of all other persons taken
together." Fundamental to the nature and activity of individuals, then, is their own well-
being, and reason—as a natural capability of the person—is considered to be subservient
to this end.
Bentham believed that the nature of the human person can be adequately described
without mention of social relationships. To begin with, the idea of "relation" is but a
"fictitious entity," though necessary for "convenience of discourse." And, more
specifically, he remarks that "the community is a fictitious body," and it is but "the sum
of the interests of the several members who compose it." Thus, the extension of the term
"individual" is, in the main, no greater and no less than the biological entity. Bentham's
view, then, is that the individual—the basic unit of the social sphere—is an "atom" and
there is no "self" or "individual" greater than the human individual. A person's relations
with others—even if important—are not essential and describe nothing that is, strictly
speaking, necessary to its being what it is.

Finally, the picture of the human person presented by Bentham is based on a

psychological associationism indebted to David Hartley and Hume; Bentham's analysis
of "habit" (which is essential to his understanding of society and especially political
society) particularly reflects associationist presuppositions. On this view, pleasure and
pain are objective states and can be measured in terms of their intensity, duration,
certainty, proximity, fecundity and purity. This allows both for an objective determination
of an activity or state and for a comparison with others.

Bentham's understanding of human nature reveals, in short, a psychological, ontological,

and also moral individualism where, to extend the critique of utilitarianism made by
Graeme Duncan and John Gray (1979), "the individual human being is conceived as the
source of values and as himself the supreme value."

4. Moral Philosophy
As Elie Halévy (1904) notes, there are three principal characteristics of which constitute
the basis of Bentham's moral and political philosophy: (i) the greatest happiness
principle, (ii) universal egoism and (iii) the artificial identification of one's interests with
those of others. Though these characteristics are present throughout his work, they are
particularly evident in the Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, where
Bentham is concerned with articulating rational principles that would provide a basis and
guide for legal, social and moral reform.
To begin with, Bentham's moral philosophy reflects what he calls at different times "the
greatest happiness principle" or "the principle of utility"—a term which he borrows from
Hume. In adverting to this principle, however, he was not referring to just the usefulness
of things or actions, but to the extent to which these things or actions promote the general
happiness. Specifically, then, what is morally obligatory is that which produces the
greatest amount of happiness for the greatest number of people, happiness being
determined by reference to the presence of pleasure and the absence of pain. Thus,
Bentham writes, "By the principle of utility is meant that principle which approves or
disapproves of every action whatsoever, according to the tendency which it appears to
have to augment or diminish the happiness of the party whose interest is in question: or,
what is the same thing in other words, to promote or to oppose that happiness." And
Bentham emphasizes that this applies to "every action whatsoever" (Ch. 1). That which
does not maximize the greatest happiness (such as an act of pure ascetic sacrifice) is,
therefore, morally wrong. (Unlike some of the previous attempts at articulating a
universal hedonism, Bentham's approach is thoroughly naturalistic.)

Bentham's moral philosophy, then, clearly reflects his psychological view that the primary
motivators in human beings are pleasure and pain. Bentham admits that his version of
the principle of utility is something that does not admit of direct proof, but he notes that
this is not a problem as some explanatory principles do not admit of any such proof and
all explanation must start somewhere. But this, by itself, does not explain why another's
happiness—or the general happiness—should count. And, in fact, he provides a number
of suggestions that could serve as answers to the question of why we should be concerned
with the happiness of others.

First, Bentham says, the principle of utility is something to which individuals, in acting,
refer either explicitly or implicitly, and this is something that can be ascertained and
confirmed by simple observation. Indeed, Bentham held that all existing systems of
morality can be "reduced to the principles of sympathy and antipathy," which is precisely
that which defines utility. A second argument found in Bentham is that, if pleasure is the
good, then it is good irrespective of whose pleasure it is. Thus, a moral injunction to
pursue or maximize pleasure has force independently of the specific interests of the
person acting. Bentham also suggests that individuals would reasonably seek the general
happiness simply because the interests of others are inextricably bound up with their own,
though he recognized that this is something that is easy for individuals to ignore.
Nevertheless, Bentham envisages a solution to this as well. Specifically, he proposes that
making this identification of interests obvious and, when necessary, bringing diverse
interests together would be the responsibility of the legislator.

Finally, Bentham held that there are advantages to a moral philosophy based on a
principle of utility. To begin with, the principle of utility is clear (compared to other moral
principles), allows for objective and disinterested public discussion, and enables decisions
to be made where there seem to be conflicts of (prima facie) legitimate interests.
Moreover, in calculating the pleasures and pains involved in carrying out a course of
action (the "hedonic calculus"), there is a fundamental commitment to human equality.
The principle of utility presupposes that "one man is worth just the same as another man"
and so there is a guarantee that in calculating the greatest happiness "each person is to
count for one and no one for more than one."
For Bentham, then, there is no inconsistency between the greatest happiness principle
and his psychological hedonism and egoism. Thus, he writes that moral philosophy or
ethics can be simply described as "the art of directing men's action to the production of
the greatest possible quantity of happiness, on the part of those whose interest is in view."

5. Political Philosophy
Bentham was regarded as the central figure of a group of intellectuals called, by Elie
Halévy (1904), "the philosophic radicals," of which both Mill and Herbert Spencer can be
counted among the "spiritual descendants." While it would be too strong to claim that the
ideas of the philosophic radicals reflected a common political theory, it is nevertheless
correct to say that they agreed that many of the social problems of late eighteenth and
early nineteenth century England were due to an antiquated legal system and to the
control of the economy by a hereditary landed gentry opposed to modern capitalist
institutions. As discussed in the preceding section, for Bentham, the principles that
govern morals also govern politics and law, and political reform requires a clear
understanding of human nature. While he develops a number of principles already
present in Anglo-Saxon political philosophy, he breaks with that tradition in significant
ways.
In his earliest work, A Fragment on Government (1776), which is an excerpt from a longer
work published only in 1928 as Comment on Blackstone's Commentaries, Bentham attacked
the legal theory of Sir William Blackstone. Bentham's target was, primarily, Blackstone's
defense of tradition in law. Bentham advocated the rational revision of the legal system,
a restructuring of the process of determining responsibility and of punishment, and a
more extensive freedom of contract. This, he believed, would favor not only the
development of the community, but the personal development of the individual.
Bentham's attack on Blackstone targeted more than the latter's use of tradition however.
Against Blackstone and a number of earlier thinkers (including Locke), Bentham
repudiated many of the concepts underlying their political philosophies, such as natural
right, state of nature, and social contract. Bentham then attempted to outline positive
alternatives to the preceding "traditionalisms." Not only did he work to reform and
restructure existing institutions, but he promoted broader suffrage and self (that is,
representative) government.

a. Law, Liberty and Government

The notion of liberty present in Bentham's account is what is now generally referred to as
"negative" liberty—freedom from external restraint or compulsion. Bentham says that
"[l]iberty is the absence of restraint" and so, to the extent that one is not hindered by
others, one has liberty and is "free." Bentham denies that liberty is "natural" (in the sense
of existing "prior to" social life and thereby imposing limits on the state) or that there is
an a priori sphere of liberty in which the individual is sovereign. In fact, Bentham holds
that people have always lived in society, and so there can be no state of nature (though he
does distinguish between political society and "natural society") and no "social contract"
(a notion which he held was not only unhistorical but pernicious). Nevertheless, he does
note that there is an important distinction between one's public and private life that has
morally significant consequences, and he holds that liberty is a good—that, even though
it is not something that is a fundamental value, it reflects the greatest happiness principle.
Correlative with this account of liberty, Bentham (as Thomas Hobbes before him) viewed
law as "negative." Given that pleasure and pain are fundamental to—indeed, provide—the
standard of value for Bentham, liberty is a good (because it is "pleasant") and the
restriction of liberty is an evil (because it is "painful"). Law, which is by its very nature a
restriction of liberty and painful to those whose freedom is restricted, is a prima facie evil.
It is only so far as control by the state is limited that the individual is free. Law is, Bentham
recognized, necessary to social order and good laws are clearly essential to good
government. Indeed, perhaps more than Locke, Bentham saw the positive role to be
played by law and government, particularly in achieving community well-being. To the
extent that law advances and protects one's economic and personal goods and that what
government exists is self-government, law reflects the interests of the individual.
Unlike many earlier thinkers, Bentham held that law is not rooted in a "natural law" but
is simply a command expressing the will of the sovereign. (This account of law, later
developed by Austin, is characteristic of legal positivism.) Thus, a law that commands
morally questionable or morally evil actions, or that is not based on consent, is still law.
b. Rights
Bentham's views on rights are, perhaps, best known through the attacks on the concept
of "natural rights" that appear throughout his work. These criticisms are especially
developed in his Anarchical Fallacies (a polemical attack on the declarations of rights
issued in France during the French Revolution), written between 1791 and 1795 but not
published until 1816, in French. Bentham's criticisms here are rooted in his
understanding of the nature of law. Rights are created by the law, and law is simply a
command of the sovereign. The existence of law and rights, therefore, requires
government. Rights are also usually (though not necessarily) correlative with duties
determined by the law and, as in Hobbes, are either those which the law explicitly gives
us or those within a legal system where the law is silent. The view that there could be
rights not based on sovereign command and which pre-exist the establishment of
government is rejected.
According to Bentham, then, the term "natural right" is a "perversion of language." It is
"ambiguous," "sentimental" and "figurative" and it has anarchical consequences. At best,
such a "right" may tell us what we ought to do; it cannot serve as a legal restriction on
what we can or cannot do. The term "natural right" is ambiguous, Bentham says, because
it suggests that there are general rights—that is, rights over no specific object—so that one
would have a claim on whatever one chooses. The effect of exercising such a universal,
natural "right" would be to extinguish the right altogether, since "what is every man's right
is no man's right." No legal system could function with such a broad conception of rights.
Thus, there cannot be any general rights in the sense suggested by the French
declarations.

Moreover, the notion of natural rights is figurative. Properly speaking, there are no rights
anterior to government. The assumption of the existence of such rights, Bentham says,
seems to be derived from the theory of the social contract. Here, individuals form a society
and choose a government through the alienation of certain of their rights. But such a
doctrine is not only unhistorical, according to Bentham, it does not even serve as a useful
fiction to explain the origin of political authority. Governments arise by habit or by force,
and for contracts (and, specifically, some original contract) to bind, there must already be
a government in place to enforce them.
Finally, the idea of a natural right is "anarchical." Such a right, Bentham claims, entails a
freedom from all restraint and, in particular, from all legal restraint. Since a natural right
would be anterior to law, it could not be limited by law, and (since human beings are
motivated by self-interest) if everyone had such freedom, the result would be pure
anarchy. To have a right in any meaningful sense entails that others cannot legitimately
 interfere with one's rights, and this implies that rights must be capable of enforcement.
Such restriction, as noted earlier, is the province of the law.

Bentham concludes, therefore, that the term "natural rights" is "simple nonsense: natural
and imprescriptible rights, rhetorical nonsense,—nonsense upon stilts." Rights—what
Bentham calls "real" rights—are fundamentally legal rights. All rights must be legal and
specific (that is, having both a specific object and subject). They ought to be made because
of their conduciveness to "the general mass of felicity," and correlatively, when their
abolition would be to the advantage of society, rights ought to be abolished. So far as rights
exist in law, they are protected; outside of law, they are at best "reasons for wishing there
were such things as rights." While Bentham's essays against natural rights are largely
polemical, many of his objections continue to be influential in contemporary political
philosophy.
Nevertheless, Bentham did not dismiss talk of rights altogether. There are some services
that are essential to the happiness of human beings and that cannot be left to others to
fulfill as they see fit, and so these individuals must be compelled, on pain of punishment,
to fulfill them. They must, in other words, respect the rights of others. Thus, although
Bentham was generally suspicious of the concept of rights, he does allow that the term is
useful, and in such work as A General View of a Complete Code of Laws, he enumerates a
large number of rights. While the meaning he assigns to these rights is largely stipulative
rather than descriptive, they clearly reflect principles defended throughout his work.
There has been some debate over the extent to which the rights that Bentham defends are
based on or reducible to duties or obligations, whether he can consistently maintain that
such duties or obligations are based on the principle of utility, and whether the existence
of what Bentham calls "permissive rights"—rights one has where the law is silent—is
consistent with his general utilitarian view. This latter point has been discussed at length
by H.L.A. Hart (1973) and David Lyons (1969).

6. References and Further Reading

a. Bentham's Works
The standard edition of Bentham's writings is The Works of Jeremy Bentham, (ed. John
Bowring), London, 1838-1843; Reprinted New York, 1962. The contents are as follows:
 Volume 1: Introduction; An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation; Essay on the
Promulgation of Laws, Essay on the Influence of Time and Place in Matters of Legislation, A Table of the
Springs of Action, A Fragment on Government: or A Comment on the Commentaries; Principles of the Civil
Code; Principles of Penal Law
 Volume 2: Principles of Judicial Procedure, with the outlines of a Procedural Code; The Rationale of
Reward; Leading Principles of a Constitutional Code, for any state; On the Liberty of the Press, and public
discussion; The Book of Fallacies, from unfinished papers; Anarchical Fallacies; Principles of International
Law; A Protest Against Law Taxes; Supply without Burden; Tax with Monopoly
 Volume 3: Defence of Usury; A Manual of Political Economy; Observations on the Restrictive and
Prohibitory Commercial System; A Plan for saving all trouble and expense in the transfer of stock; A General
View of a Complete Code of Laws; Pannomial Fragments; Nomography, or the art of inditing laws; Equal
Dispatch Court Bill; Plan of Parliamentary Reform, in the form of a catechism; Radical Reform
Bill; Radicalism Not Dangerous
 Volume 4: A View of the Hard Labour Bill; Panopticon, or, the inspection house; Panopticon versus New
South Wales; A Plea for the Constitution; Draught of a Code for the Organisation of Judicial Establishment
 in France; Bentham's Draught for the Organisation of Judicial Establishments, compared with that of a
national assembly; Emancipate Your Colonies; Jeremy Bentham to his Fellow Citizens of France, on houses
of peers and Senates; Papers Relative to Codification and Public Instruction; Codification Proposal
 Volume 5: Scotch Reform; Summary View of the Plan of a Judiciary, under the name of the court of lord's
delegates; The Elements of the Art of Packing; "Swear Not At All"; Truth versus Ashhurst; The King against
Edmonds and Others; The King against Sir Charles Wolseley and Joseph Harrison; Optical Aptitude
Maximized, Expense Minimized; A Commentary on Mr Humphreys' Real Property Code; Outline of a Plan of
a General Register of Real Property; Justice and Codification Petitions; Lord Brougham Displayed
 Volume 6: An Introductory View of the Rationale of Evidence; Rationale of Judicial Evidence, specially
applied to English Practice, Books I-IV
 Volume 7: Rationale of Judicial Evidence, specially applied to English Practice, Books V-X
 Volume 8: Chrestomathia; A Fragment on Ontology; Essay on Logic; Essay on Language; Fragments on
Universal Grammar; Tracts on Poor Laws and Pauper Management; Observations on the Poor Bill; Three
Tracts Relative to Spanish and Portuguese Affairs; Letters to Count Toreno, on the proposed penal
code; Securities against Misrule
 Volume 9: The Constitutional Code
 Volume 10: Memoirs of Bentham, Chapters I-XXII
 Volume 11: Memoirs of Bentham, Chapters XXIII-XXVI; Analytical Index
A new edition of Bentham's Works is being prepared by The Bentham Project at
University College, University of London. This edition includes:

 The Correspondence of Jeremy Bentham, Ed. Timothy L. S. Sprigge, 10 vols., London : Athlone Press, 1968-
1984. [Vol. 3 edited by I.R. Christie; Vol. 4-5 edited by Alexander Taylor Milne; Vol. 6-7 edited by J.R.
Dinwiddy; Vol. 8 edited by Stephen Conway].
 An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, Ed. J.H. Burns and H.L.A. Hart, London: The
Athlone Press, 1970.
 Of Laws in General. London: Athlone Press, 1970.
 A Comment on the Commentaries and a Fragment on Government, Ed. J.H. Burns and H.L.A. Hart, London:
The Athlone Press, 1977.
 Chrestomathia, Ed. M. J. Smith, and W. H. Burston, Oxford/New York : Clarendon Press ; Oxford University
Press, 1983.
 Deontology ; together with A Table of the Springs of Action ; and the Article on Utilitarianism. Ed. Amnon
Goldworth, Oxford/New York : Clarendon Press ; Oxford University Press, 1983.
 Constitutional Code : vol. I . Ed. F. Rosen and J. H. Burns, Oxford/New York : Clarendon Press; Oxford
University Press, 1983.
 Securities Against Misrule and Other Constitutional Writings for Tripoli and Greece. Ed. Philip Schofield,
Oxford/New York : Clarendon Press ; Oxford University Press, 1990.
 Official Aptitude Maximized : Expense Minimized. Ed. Philip Schofield, Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1993.
 Colonies, Commerce, and Constitutional Law : Rid Yourselves of Ultramaria and Other Writings on Spain
and Spanish America. Ed. Philip Schofield, Oxford/New York : Clarendon Press ; Oxford University Press,
1995.
b. Secondary Sources
 Duncan, Graeme & Gray, John. "The Left Against Mill," in New Essays on John Stuart Mill and
Utilitarianism, Eds. Wesley E. Cooper, Kai Nielsen and Steven C. Patten, 1979.
 Halévy, Elie. La formation du radicalisme philosophique, 3 vols. Paris, 1904 [The Growth of Philosophic
Radicalism. Tr. Mary Morris. London: Faber & Faber, 1928.]
 Harrison, Ross. Bentham. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983.
 Hart, H.L.A. "Bentham on Legal Rights," in Oxford Essays in Jurisprudence (second series), ed. A.W.B.
Simpson (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1973), pp. 171-201.
 Lyons, David. "Rights, Claimants and Beneficiaries," in American Philosophical Quarterly, Vol. 6 (1969),
pp. 173-185.
 MacCunn, John. Six Radical Thinkers, second impression, London, 1910.
 Mack, Mary Peter. Jeremy Bentham: An Odyssey of Ideas 1748-1792. London: Heinemann, 1962.
 Manning, D.J. The Mind of Jeremy Bentham, London: Longmans, 1968.
 Plamenatz, John. The English Utilitarians. Oxford, 1949.
 Stephen, Leslie. The English Utilitarians. 3 vols., London: Duckworth, 1900.

Hegel: Social and Political Thought

Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831) is one of the

greatest systematic thinkers in the history of Western philosophy. In addition to epitomizing
German idealist philosophy, Hegel boldly claimed that his own system of philosophy
represented an historical culmination of all previous philosophical thought. Hegel's overall
encyclopedic system is divided into the science of Logic, the philosophy of Nature, and the
philosophy of Spirit. Of most enduring interest are his views on history, society, and the state,
which fall within the realm of Objective Spirit. Some have considered Hegel to be a
nationalistic apologist for the Prussian State of the early 19th century, but his significance
has been much broader, and there is no doubt that Hegel himself considered his work to be
an expression of the self-consciousness of the World Spirit of his time. At the core of Hegel's
social and political thought are the concepts of freedom, reason, self-consciousness, and
recognition. There are important connections between the metaphysical or speculative
articulation of these ideas and their application to social and political reality, and one could
say that the full meaning of these ideas can be grasped only with a comprehension of their
social and historical embodiment. The work that explicates this concretizing of ideas, and
which has perhaps stimulated as much controversy as interest, is the Philosophy of
Right (Philosophie des Rechts), which will be a main focus of this essay.

Table of Contents
1. Biography
2. Political Writings
 3. The Jena Writings (1802-06)
4. The Phenomenology of Spirit
5. Logic and Political Theory
6. The Philosophy of Right
a. Abstract Right
b. Morality
c. Ethical Life
i. The Family
ii. Civil Society
iii. The State
1. Constitutional Law
2. International Law
3. World History
7. Closing Remarks
8. References and Further Reading
. Works by Hegel in German and in English
Translation
a. Works on Hegel's Social and Political
Philosophy
1. Biography
G.W.F. Hegel was born in Stuttgart in 1770, the son of an official in the government of the
Duke of Württemberg. He was educated at the Royal Highschool in Stuttgart from 1777-88
and steeped in both the classics and the literature of the European Enlightenment. In
October, 1788 Hegel began studies at a theological seminary in Tübingen, the Tüberger Stift,
where he became friends with the poet Hölderlin and philosopher Friedrich Schelling, both
of whom would later become famous. In 1790 Hegel received an M.A. degree, one year after
the fall of the Bastille in France, an event welcomed by these young idealistic students.
Shortly after graduation, Hegel took a post as tutor to a wealthy Swiss family in Berne from
1793-96. In 1797, with the help of his friend Hölderlin, Hegel moved to Frankfurt to take on
another tutorship. During this time he wrote unpublished essays on religion which display a
certain radical tendency of thought in his critique of orthodox religion.

In January 1801, two years after the death of his father, Hegel finished with tutoring and
went to Jena where he took a position as Privatdozent (unsalaried lecturer) at the University
of Jena, where Hegel's friend Schelling had already held a university professorship for three
years. There Hegel collaborated with Schelling on a Critical Journal of Philosophy (Kritisches
Journal der Philosophie) and he also published a piece on the differences between the
philosophies of Fichte and Schelling (Differenz des Fichte'schen und Schelling'schen Systems
der Philosophie) in which preference was consistently expressed for the latter thinker. After
having attained a professorship in 1805, Hegel published his first major work,
the Phenomenology of Spirit (Phänomenologie des Geistes, 1807) which was delivered to the
publisher just at the time of the occupation of Jena by Napoleon's armies. With the closing of
the University, due to the victory of the French in Prussia, Hegel had to seek employment
elsewhere and so he took a job as editor of a newspaper in Bamberg, Bavaria in 1807 (Die
Bamberger Zeitung) followed by a move to Nuremberg in 1808 where Hegel became
headmaster of a preparatory school (Gymnasium), roughly equivalent to a high school, and
also taught philosophy to the students there until 1816. During this time Hegel married, had
children, and published his Science of Logic (Wissenschaft der Logik) in three volumes.
One year following the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo (1815), Hegel took the position of
Professor of Philosophy at the University of Heidelberg where he published his first edition
of the Encyclopedia of the Philosophical Sciences in Outline (Encyklopädie der
philosophischen Wissenschaften im Grundrisse, 1817). In 1818 he became Professor of
Philosophy at the University of Berlin, through the invitation of the Prussion minister von
Altenstein (who had introduced many liberal reforms in Prussia until the fall of Napoleon),
and Hegel taught there until he died in 1831. Hegel lectured on various topics in philosophy,
most notably on history, art, religion, and the history of philosophy and he became quite
famous and influential. He held public positions as a member of the Royal Examination
Commission of the Province of Brandenberg and also as a councellor in the Ministry of
Education. In 1821 he published the Philosophy of Right (Philosophie des Rechts) and in 1830
was given the honor of being elected Rector of the University. On November 14, 1831 Hegel
died of cholera in Berlin, four months after having been decorated by Friedrich Wilhelm III
of Prussia.
2. Political Writings
Apart from his philosophical works on history, society, and the state, Hegel wrote several
political tracts most of which were not published in his lifetime but which are significant
enough in connection to the theoretical writings to deserve some mention. (These are
published in English translation in Hegel's Political Writings and Political Writings, listed in
the bibliography of works by Hegel below.)
Hegel's very first political work was on "On the Recent Domestic Affairs of Wurtemberg"
(Über die neuesten innern Verhältnisse Württembergs…, 1798) which was neither completed
nor published. In it Hegel expresses the view that the constitutional structure of Wurtemberg
requires fundamental reform. He condemns the absolutist rule of Duke Ferdinand along with
the narrow traditionalism and legal positivism of his officials and welcomes the convening
of the Estates Assembly, while disagreeing with the method of election in the Diet. In contrast
to the existing system of oligarchic privilege, Hegel argues that the Diet needs to be based on
popular election through local town councils, although this should not be done by granting
suffrage to an uneducated multitude. The essay ends inconclusively on the appropriate
method of political representation.
A quite long piece of about 100 pages, The German Constitution (Die Verfassung
Deutchlands) was written and revised by Hegel between 1799 and 1802 and was not
published until after his death in 1893. This piece provides an analysis and critique of the
constitution of the German Empire with the main theme being that the Empire is a thing of
the past and that appeals for a unified German state are anachronistic. Hegel finds a certain
hypocrisy in German thinking about the Empire and a gap between theory and practice in
the German constitution. Germany was no longer a state governed by law but rather a
plurality of independent political entities with disparate practices. Hegel stresses the need
to recognize that the realities of the modern state necessitate a strong public authority along
with a populace that is free and unregimented. The principle of government in the modern
world is constitutional monarchy, the potentialities of which can be seen in Austria and
Prussia. Hegel ends the essay on an uncertain note with the idea that Germany as a whole
could be saved only by some Machiavellian genius.
The essay "Proceedings of the Estates Assembly in the Kingdom of Württemberg, 1815-
1816" was published in 1817 in the Heidelbergische Jahrbücher. In it Hegel commented on
sections of the official report of the Diet of Württemberg, focusing on the opposition by the
Estates to the King's request for ratification of a new constitutional charter that recognized
recent liberalizing changes and reforms. Hegel sided with King Frederick and criticized the
Estates as being reactionary in their appeal to old customary laws and feudal property rights.
There has been controversy over whether Hegel here was trying to gain favor with the King
in order to attain a government position. However, Hegel's favoring a sovereign kingdom of
Wurtemberg over the German Empire and the need for a constitutional charter that is more
rational than the previous are quite continuous with the previous essays. A genuine state
needs a strong and effective central public authority, and in resisting the Estates are trying
to live in the feudal past. Moreover, Hegel is not uncritical of the King's constitutional
provisions and finds deficiencies in the exclusion of members of professions from the Estates
Assembly as well as in the proposal for direct suffrage in representation, which treats
citizens like unintegrated atomic units rather than as members of a political community.
The last of Hegel's political tracts, "The English Reform Bill," was written in installments in
1831 for the ministerial newspaper, the Preussische Staatszeitung, but was interrupted due
to censure by the Prussian King because of the perception of its being overly critical and anti-
English. As a result, the remainder of the work was printed independently and distributed
discretely. Hegel's main line of criticism is that the proposed English reforms of suffrage will
not make much of a difference in the distribution of political power and may only create a
power struggle between the rising group of politicians and the traditional ruling class.
Moreover, there are deep problems in English society that cannot be addressed by the
proposed electoral reforms, including political corruption in the English burroughs, the
selling of seats in parliament, and the general oligarchic nature of social reality including the
wide disparities between wealth and poverty, Ecclesiastical patronage, and conditions in
Ireland. While Hegel supports the idea of reform with its appeal to rational change as against
the "positivity" of customary law, traditionalism and privilege, he thinks that universalizing
suffrage with a property qualification without a thorough reform of the system of Common
Law and the existing social conditions will only be perceived as token measures leading to
greater disenchantment among the newly enfranchised and possibly inclinations to violent
revolution. Hegel claims that national pride keeps the English from studying and following
the reforms of the European Continent or seriously reflecting upon and grasping the nature
of government and legislation.
There are several overall themes that reoccur in these political writings and that connect
with some of the main lines of thought in Hegel's theoretical works. First, there is the contrast
between the attitude of legal positivism and the appeal to the law of reason. Hegel
consistently displays a "political rationalism" which attacks old concepts and attitudes that
no longer apply to the modern world. Old constitutions stemming from the Feudal era are a
confused mixture of customary laws and special privileges that must give way to the
constitutional reforms of the new social and political world that has arrived in the aftermath
of the French Revolution. Second, reforms of old constitutions must be thorough and radical,
but also cautious and gradual. This might sound somewhat inconsistent, but for Hegel a
reform is radical due to a fundamental change in direction, not the speed of such change.
Hegel suggests that customary institutions not be abolished too quickly for there must be
some congruence and continuity with the existing social conditions. Hegel rejects violent
popular action and sees the principal force for reform in governments and the estates
assemblies, and he thinks reforms should always stress legal equality and the public welfare.
Third, Hegel emphasizes the need for a strong central government, albeit without complete
centralized control of public administration and social relations. Hegel here anticipates his
later conception of civil society (bürgerliche Gesellschaft), the social realm of individual
autonomy where there is significant local self-governance. The task of government is not to
thoroughly bureaucratize civil society but rather to provide oversight, regulation, and when
necessary intervention. Fourth, Hegel claims that representation of the people must be
popular but not atomistic. The democratic element in a state is not its sole feature and it must
be institutionalized in a rational manner. Hegel rejects universal suffrage as irrational
because it provides no means of mediation between the individual and the state as a whole.
Hegel believed that the masses lacked the experience and political education to be directly
involved in national elections and policy matters and that direct suffrage leads to electoral
indifference and apathy. Fifth, while acknowledging the importance of a division of powers
in the public authority, Hegel does not appeal to a conception of separation and balance of
powers. He views the estates assemblies, which safeguard freedom, as essentially related to
the monarch and also stresses the role of civil servants and members of the professions, both
in ministerial positions and in the assemblies. The monarchy, however, is the central
supporting element in the constitutional structure because the monarch is invested with the
sovereignty of the state. However, the power of the monarch is not despotical for he exercises
authority through universal laws and statutes and is advised and assisted by a ministry and
civil service, all members of which must meet educational requirements.
3. The Jena Writings (1802-06)
Hegel wrote several pieces while at the University of Jena that point in the direction of some
of the main theses of the Philosophy of Right. The first was entitled "On the Scientific Modes
of Treatment of Natural Law–Its Place in Practical Philosophy and Its Relationship to the
Positive Science of Law" (Über die wissenschaftlichen Behandlungsarten des Naturrechts…),
published originally in the Kritisches Journal der Philosophie in 1802, edited jointly by Hegel
and Schelling. In this piece, usually referred to as the essay on Natural Law, Hegel criticizes
both the empirical and formal approaches to natural law, as exemplified in British and
Kantian philosophy respectively. Empiricism reaches conclusions that are limited by the
particularities of its contexts and materials and thus cannot provide universally valid
propositions regarding the concepts of various social and political institutions or of the
relation of reflective consciousness to social and political experience. Formalist conclusions,
on the other hand, are too insubstantial and abstract in failing to properly link human reason
concretely to human experience. Traditional natural law theories are based on an abstract
rationalism and the attempts of Rousseau, Kant, and Fichte to remedy this through their
various ethical conceptions fail to overcome abstractness. For Hegel, the proper method of
philosophical science must link concretely the development of the human mind and its
rational powers to actual experience. Moreover, the concept of a social and political
community must transcend the instrumentalizing of the state.
Hegel's work entitled "The System of Ethical Life" (System der Sittlichkeit) was written in
1802-03 and first published in its entirety by Georg Lasson in 1913 in a volume
entitled Schriften zur Politik und Rechtsphilosophie. In this work, Hegel develops a
philosophical theory of social and political development that correlates with the self-
development of essential human powers. Historically, humans begin in an immediate
relation to nature and their social existence takes the form of natürliche Sittlichkeit, i.e., a
non-selfconscious relation to nature and to others. However, the satisfaction of human
desires leads to their reproduction and multiplication and leads to the necessity for labor,
which induces transformation in the human world and people's connections to it. This
process leads to a self-realization that undermines the original naïve unity with nature and
others and to the formation of overtly cooperative endeavors, e.g., in the making and use of
tools. Another result of labor is the emergence of private property as an embodiment of
human personality as well as of sets of legal relationships that institutionalize property
ownership, exchange, etc., and deal with crimes against property. Furthermore, disparities
in property and power lead to relationships of subordination and the use of the labor of
others to satisfy one's increasingly complex and expanded desires. Gradually, a system of
mutual dependence, a "system of needs," develops, and along with the increasing division of
labor there also develops class differentiations reflecting the types of labor or activity taken
up by members of each class, which Hegel classifies into the agricultural, acquisitive, and
administerial classes. However, despite relations of interdependence and cooperation the
members of society experience social connections as a sort of blind fate without some larger
system of control which is provided by the state which regulates the economic life of society.
The details of the structure of the state are unclear in this essay, but what is clear is that for
Hegel the state provides an increased rationality to social practices, much in the sense that
the later German sociologist Max Weber (1864-1920) would articulate how social practices
become more rational by being codified and made more predictable.
The manuscripts entitled Realphilosophie are based on lectures Hegel delivered at Jena
University in 1803-04 (Realphilosophie I) and 1805-06 (Realphilosophie II), and were
originally published by Johannes Hoffmeister in 1932. These writings cover much of the
same ground as the System der Sittlichkeit in explicating a philosophy of mind and human
experience in relation to human social and political development. Some of the noteworthy
ideas in these writings are the role and significance of language for social consciousness, for
giving expression to a people (Volk) and for the comprehending of and mastery of the world,
and the necessity and consequences of the fragmentation of primordial social relationships
and patterns as part of the process of human development. Also, there is a reiteration of the
importance of property relations as crucial to social recognition and how there would be no
security of property or recognition of property rights if society were to remain a mere
multitude of families. Such security requires a system of control over the "struggle for
recognition" through interpersonal norms, rules, and juridical authority provided by the
nation state. Moreover, Hegel repeats the need for strong state regulation of the economy,
which if left to its own workings is blind to the needs of the social community. The economy,
especially through the division of labor, produces fragmentation and diminishment of
human life (compare Marx on alienation) and the state must not only address this
phenomenon but also provide the means for the people's political participation to further
the development of social self-consciousness. In all of this Hegel appears to be providing a
philosophical account of modern developments both in terms of the tensions and conflicts
that are new to modernity as well as in the progressive movements of reform found under
the influence of Napoleon.
Finally, Hegel also discusses the forms of government, the three main types being tyranny,
democracy, and hereditary monarchy. Tyranny is found typically in primitive or
undeveloped states, democracy exists in states where there is the realization of individual
identity but no split between the public and private person, and hereditary monarchy is the
appropriate form of political authority in the modern world in providing strong central
government along with a system of indirect representation through Estates. The relation of
religion to the state is undeveloped in these writings, but Hegel is clear about the
supereminent role of the state that stands above all else in giving expression to the Spirit
(Geist) of a society in a sort of earthly kingdom of God, the realization of God in the world.
True religion complements and supports this realization and thus cannot properly have
supremacy over or be opposed to the state.
4. The Phenomenology of Spirit
The Phenomenology of Spirit (Die Phänomenologie des Geistes), published in 1807, is Hegel's
first major comprehensive philosophical work. Originally intended to be the first part of his
comprehensive system of science (Wissenschaft) or philosophy, Hegel eventually considered
it to be the introduction to his system. This work provides what can be called a "biography
of spirit," i.e., an account of the development of consciousness and self-consciousness in the
context of some central epistemological, anthropological and cultural themes of human
history. It has continuity with the works discussed above in examining the development of
the human mind in relation to human experience but is more wide-ranging in also addressing
fundamental questions about the meaning of perceiving, knowing, and other cognitive
activities as well as of the nature of reason and reality. Given the focus of this essay, the
themes of the Phenomenology to be discussed here are those directly relevant to Hegel's
social and political thought.
One of the most widely discussed places in the Phenomenology is the chapter on "The Truth
of Self-Certainty" which includes a subsection on "Independence and Dependence of Self-
Consciousness: Lordship and Bondage." This section treats of the (somewhat misleadingly
named) "master/slave" struggle which is taken by some, especially the Marxian-inspired, as
a paradigm of all forms of social conflict, in particular the struggle between social classes. It
is clear that Hegel intended the scenario to typify certain features of the struggle for
recognition (Anerkennung) overall, be it social, personal, etc. The conflict between master
and slave (which shall be referred to hereafter as lord and bondsman as more in keeping
with Hegel's own terminology and the intended generic meaning) is one in which the
historical themes of dominance and obedience, dependence and independence, etc., are
philosophically introduced. Although this specific dialectic of struggle occurs only at the
earliest stages of self-consciousness, it nonetheless sets up the main problematic for
achieving realized self-consciousness–the gaining of self-recognition through the
recognition of and by another, through mutual recognition.
According to Hegel, the relationship between self and otherness is the fundamental defining
characteristic of human awareness and activity, being rooted as it is in the emotion of desire
for objects as well as in the estrangement from those objects, which is part of the primordial
human experience of the world. The otherness that consciousness experiences as a barrier
to its goal is the external reality of the natural and social world, which prevents individual
consciousness from becoming free and independent. However, that otherness cannot be
abolished or destroyed, without destroying oneself, and so ideally there must be
reconciliation between self and other such that consciousness can "universalize" itself
through the other. In the relation of dominance and subservience between two
consciousnesses, say lord and bondsman, the basic problem for consciousness is the
overcoming of its otherness, or put positively, the achieving of integration with itself. The
relation between lord and bondsman leads to a sort of provisional, incomplete resolution of
the struggle for recognition between distinct consciousnesses.

Hegel asks us to consider how a struggle between two distinct consciousnesses, let us say a
violent "life-or-death" struggle, would lead to one consciousness surrendering and
submitting to the other out of fear of death. Initially, the consciousness that becomes lord or
master proves its freedom through willingness to risk its life and not submit to the other out
of fear of death, and thus not identify simply with its desire for life and physical being.
Moreover, this consciousness is given acknowledgement of its freedom through the
submission and dependence of the other, which turns out paradoxically to be a deficient
recognition in that the dominant one fails to see a reflection of itself in the subservient one.
Adequate recognition requires a mirroring of the self through the other, which means that
to be successful it must be mutual. In the ensuing relationship of lordship and bondage,
furthermore, the bondsman through work and discipline (motivated by fear of dying at the
hands of the master or lord) transforms his subservience into a mastery over his
environment, and thus achieves a measure of independence. In objectifying himself in his
environment through his labor the bondsman in effect realizes himself, with his transformed
environment serving as a reflection of his inherently self-realizing activity. Thus, the
bondsman gains a measure of independence in his subjugation out of fear of death. In a way,
the lord represents death as the absolute subjugator, since it is through fear of this master,
of the death that he can impose, that the bondsman in his acquiescence and subservience is
placed into a social context of work and discipline. Yet despite, or more properly, because of
this subjection the bondsman is able to attain a measure of independence by internalizing
and overcoming those limitations which must be dealt with if he is to produce efficiently.
However, this accomplishment, the self-determination of the bondsman, is limited and
incomplete because of the asymmetry that remains in his relation to the lord. Self-
consciousness is still fragmented, i.e., the objectification through labor that the bondsman
experiences does not coincide with the consciousness of the lord whose sense of self is not
through labor but through power over the bondsman and enjoyment of the fruits of the
bondsman's labor. Only in a realm of ethical life can self-determination be fully self-
conscious to the extent that universal freedom is reflected in the life of each individual
member of society.

Thus, in the Phenomenology consciousness must move on through the phases of Stoicism,
Skepticism, and the Unhappy Consciousness before engaging in the self-articulation of
Reason, and it is not until the section "Objective Spirit: The Ethical Order" that the full
universalization of self-consciousness is in principle to be met with. Here we find a shape of
human existence where all men work freely, serving the needs of the whole community
rather than of masters, and subject only to the "discipline of reason." This mode of ethical
life, typified in ancient Greek democracy, also eventually disintegrates, as is expressed in the
conflict between human and divine law and the tragic fate that is the outcome of this conflict
illustrated in the story of Antigone. However, the ethical life described here is still in its
immediacy and is therefore at a level of abstractness that falls short of the mediation of
subjectivity and universality which is provided spiritually in revealed Christianity and
politically in the modern state, which purportedly provides a solution to human conflict
arising from the struggle for recognition. In any case, the rest of the Phenomenology is
devoted to examinations of culture (including enlightenment and revolution), morality,
religion, and finally, Absolute Knowing.
The dialectic of self-determination is, for Hegel, inherent in the very structure of freedom,
and is the defining feature of Spirit (Geist). The full actualization of Spirit in the human
community requires the progressive development of individuality which effectively begins
with the realization in self-consciousness of the "truth of self-certainty" and culminates in
the shape of a shared common life in an integrated community of love and Reason, based
upon the realization of truths of incarnation, death, resurrection, and forgiveness as grasped
in speculative Religion. The articulation Hegel provides in the Phenomenology, however, is
very generic and is to be made concrete politically with the working out of a specific
conception of the modern nation-state with its particular configuration of social and political
institutions. It is to the latter that we must turn in order to see how these fundamental
dialectical considerations take shape in the "solution" to the struggle for recognition in self-
consciousness. However, before moving directly to Hegel's theory of the state, and history,
some discussion of his Logic is in order.
5. Logic and Political Theory
The Logic constitutes the first part of Hegel's philosophical system as presented in
his Encyclopedia. It was preceded by his larger work, The Science of Logic (Wissenschaft der
Logik), published in 1812-16 in two volumes. The "Encyclopedia Logic" is a shorter version
intended to function as part of an "outline," but it became longer in the course of the three
published versions of 1817, 1827, and 1830. Also, the English translation by William Wallace
contains additions from the notes of students who heard Hegel's lectures on this subject.
(Reference to the paragraphs of the Encyclopedia will be made with the "¶" character.)
The structure of the Logic is triadic, reflecting the organization of the larger system of
philosophy as well as a variety of other motifs, both internal and external to the Logic proper.
The Logic has three divisions: the Doctrine of Being, the Doctrine of Essence, and the
Doctrine of the Notion (or Concept). There are a number of logical categories in this work
that are directly relevant to social and political theorizing. In the Doctrine of Being, for
example, Hegel explains the concept of "being-for-self" as the function of self-relatedness in
the resolving of opposition between self and other in the "ideality of the finite" (¶ 95-96). He
claims that the task of philosophy is to bring out the ideality of the finite, and as will be seen
later Hegel's philosophy of the state is intended to articulate the ideality of the state, i.e., its
affirmative and infinite or rational features. In the Doctrine of Essence, Hegel explains the
categories of actuality and freedom. He says that actuality is the unity of "essence and
existence" (¶ 142) and argues that this does not rule out the actuality of ideas for they
become actual by being realized in external existence. Hegel will have related points to make
about the actuality of the idea of the state in society and history. Also, he defines freedom not
in terms of contingency or lack of determination, as is popular, but rather as the "truth of
necessity," i.e., freedom presupposes necessity in the sense that reciprocal action and
reaction provide a structure for free action, e.g., a necessary relation between crime and
punishment.
The Doctrine of the Notion (Begriff) is perhaps the most relevant section of the Logic to social
and political theory due to its focus on the various dynamics of development. This section is
subdivided into three parts: the subjective notion, the objective notion, and the idea which
articulates the unity of subjective and objective. The first part, the subjective notion, contains
three "moments" or functional parts: universality, particularity, and individuality (¶ 163ff).
These are particularly important as Hegel will show how the functional parts of the state
operate according to a progressive "dialectical" movement from the first to the third
moments and how the state as a whole, as a functioning and integrated totality, gives
expression to the concept of individuality (in ¶198 Hegel refers to the state as "a system of
three syllogisms"). Hegel treats these relationships as logical judgments and syllogisms but
they do not merely articulate how the mind must operate (subjectivity) but also explain
actual relationships in reality (objectivity). In objective reality we find these
logical/dialectical relationships in mechanism, chemism, and teleology. Finally, in the Idea,
the correspondence of the notion or concept with objective reality, we have the truth of
objects or objects as they ought to be, i.e., as they correspond to their proper concepts. The
logical articulation of the Idea is very important to Hegel's explanation of the Idea of the state
in modern history, for this provides the principles of rationality that guide the development
of Spirit in the world and that become manifested in various ways in social and political life.
6. The Philosophy of Right
In 1821, Hegel's Philosophy of Right orginally appeared under the double title Naturrecht
und Staatswissenschaften in Grundrisse; Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts (Natural Law
and the Science of the State; Elements of the Philosophy of Right). The work was republished
by Eduard Gans in 1833 and 1854 as part of Hegel's Werke, vol. viii and included additions
from notes taken by students at Hegel's lectures. The English language translation of this
work by T. M. Knox refers to these later editions as well as to an edition published in 1923
by Georg Lasson, which included corrections from previous editions.
The Philosophy of Right constitutes, along with Hegel's Philosophy of History, the
penultimate section of his Encyclopedia, the section on Objective Spirit, which deals with the
human world and its array of social rules and institutions, including the moral, legal,
religious, economic, and political as well as marriage, the family, social classes, and other
forms of human organization. The German word Recht is often translated as 'law', however,
Hegel clearly intends the term to have a broader meaning that captures what we might call
the good or just society, one that is "rightful" in its structure, composition, and practices.
In the Introduction to this work Hegel explains the concept of his philosophical undertaking
along with the specific key concepts of will, freedom, and right. At the very beginning, Hegel
states that the Idea of right, the concept together with its actualization, is the proper subject
of the philosophical science of right (¶ 1). Hegel is emphatic that the study is scientific in that
it deals in a systematic way with something essentially rational. He further remarks that the
basis of scientific procedure in a philosophy of right is explicated in philosophical logic and
presupposed by the former (¶ 2). Furthermore, Hegel is at pains to distinguish the historical
or legal approach to "positive law" (Gesetz) and the philosophical approach to the Idea of
right (Recht), the former involving mere description and compilation of laws as legal facts
while the latter probes into the inner meaning and necessary determinations of law or right.
For Hegel the justification of something, the finding of its inherent rationality, is not a matter
of seeking its origins or longstanding features but rather of studying it conceptually.
However, there is one sense in which the origin of right is relevant to philosophical science
and this is the free will. The free will is the basis and origin of right in the sense that mind or
spirit (Geist) generally objectifies itself in a system of right (human social and political
institutions) that gives expression to freedom, which Hegel says is both the substance and
goal of right (¶ 4). This ethical life in the state consists in the unity of the universal and the
subjective will. The universal will is contained in the Idea of freedom as its essence, but when
considered apart from the subjective will can be thought of only abstractly or
indeterminately. Considered apart from the subjective or particular will, the universal will is
"the element of pure indeterminacy or that pure reflection of the ego into itself which
involves the dissipation of every restriction and every content either immediately presented
by nature, by needs, desires, and impulses, or given and determined by any means whatever"
(¶ 5). In other words, the universal will is that moment in the Idea of freedom where willing
is thought of as state of absolutely unrestrained volition, unfettered by any particular
circumstances or limitations whatsoever–the pure form of willing. This is expressed in the
modern libertarian view of completely uncoerced choice, the absence of restraint (or
"negative liberty" as understood by Thomas Hobbes). The subjective will, on the other hand,
is the principle of activity and realization that involves "differentiation, determination, and
positing of a determinacy as a content and object" (¶ 6). This means that the will is not merely
unrestrained in acting but that it actually can give expression to the doing or accomplishing
of certain things, e.g., through talent or expertise (sometimes called "positive freedom"). The
unity of both the moments of abstract universality (the will in-itself) and subjectivity or
particularity (the will for-itself) is the concrete universal or true individuality (the will in-
and-for-itself). According to Hegel, preservation of the distinction of these two moments in
the unity (identity-in-difference) between universal and particular will is what produces
rational self-determination of an ego, as well as the self-consciousness of the state as a whole.
Hegel's conception of freedom as self-determination is just this unity in difference of the
universal and subjective will, be it in the willing by individual persons or in the expressions
of will by groups of individuals or collectivities. The "negative self-relation" of this freedom
involves the subordination of the natural instincts, impulses, and desires to conscious
reflection and to goals and purposes that are consciously chosen and that require
commitment to rational principles in order to properly guide action.
The overall structure of the Philosophy of Right is quite remarkable in its "syllogistic"
organization. The main division of the work corresponds to what Hegel calls the stages in the
development of "the Idea of the absolutely free will," and these are Abstract Right, Morality,
and Ethical Life. Each of these divisions is further subdivided triadically: under Abstract
Right there is Property, Contract, and Wrong; under Morality falls Purpose and
Responsibility, Intention and Welfare, and Good and Conscience; finally, under Ethical Life
comes the Family, Civil Society, and the State. These last subdivisions are further subdivided
into triads, with fourth level subdivisions occurring under Civil Society and the State. This
triadic system of rubrics is no mere description of a static model of social and political life.
Hegel claims that it gives expression to the conceptual development of Spirit in human
society based upon the purely logical development of rationality provided in his Logic. Thus,
it is speculatively based and not derivable from empirical survey, although the particularities
of the system do indeed correspond to our experience and what we know about ourselves
anthropologically, culturally, etc.
The transition in the Logic from universality to particularity to individuality (or concrete
universality) is expressed in the social and political context in the conceptual transition from
Abstract Right to Morality to Ethical Life. In the realm of Abstract Right, the will remains in
its immediacy as an abstract universal that is expressed in personality and in the universal
right to possession of external things in property. In the realm of Morality, the will is no
longer merely "in-itself," or restricted to the specific characteristics of legal personality, but
becomes free "for-itself," i.e., it is will reflected into itself so as to produce a self-
consciousness of the will's infinity. The will is expressed, initially, in inner conviction and
subsequently in purpose, intention, and conviction. As opposed to the merely juridical
person, the moral agent places primary value on subjective recognition of principles or ideals
that stand higher than positive law. At this stage, universality of a higher moral law is viewed
as something inherently different from subjectivity, from the will's inward convictions and
actions, and so in its isolation from a system of objectively recognized legal rules the willing
subject remains "abstract, restricted, and formal" (¶ 108). Because the subject is intrinsically
a social being who needs association with others in order to institutionalize the universal
maxims of morality, maxims that cover all people, it is only in the realm of Ethical Life that
the universal and the subjective will come into a unity through the objectification of the will
in the institutions of the Family, Civil Society, and the State.
In what follows, we trace through Hegel's systematic development of the "stages of the will,"
highlighting only the most important points as necessary to get an overall view of this work.

a. Abstract Right
The subject of Abstract Right (Recht) is the person as the bearer or holder of individual
rights. Hegel claims that this focus on the right of personality, while significant in
distinguishing persons from mere things, is abstract and without content, a simple relation
of the will to itself. The imperative of right is: "Be a person and respect others as persons" (¶
36). In this formal conception of right, there is no question of particular interests,
advantages, motives or intentions, but only the mere idea of the possibility of choosing based
on the having of permission, as long as one does not infringe on the right of other persons.
Because of the possibilities of infringement, the positive form of commands in this sphere
are prohibitions.
(1) Property (the universality of will as embodied in things)

A person must translate his or her freedom into the external world "in order to exist as Idea"
(¶ 41), thus abstract right manifests itself in the absolute right of appropriation over all
things. Property is the category through which one becomes an object to oneself in that one
actualizes the will through possession of something external. Property is the embodiment of
personality and of freedom. Not only can a person put his or her will into something external
through the taking possession of it and of using it, but one can also alienate property or yield
it to the will of another, including the ability to labor for a restricted period of time. One's
personality is inalienable and one's right to personality imprescriptible. This means one
cannot alienate all of one's labor time without becoming the property of another.
(2) Contract (the positing of explicit universality of will)

In this sphere, we have a relation of will to will, i.e., one holds property not merely by means
of the subjective will externalized in a thing, but by means of another's person's will, and
implicitly by virtue of one's participation in a common will. The status of being an
independent owner of something from which one excludes the will of another is thus
mediated in the identification of one's will with the other in the contractual relation, which
presupposes that the contracting parties "recognize each other as persons and property
owners" (¶ 71). (Note the significant development here beyond the dialectic of lord and
bondsman.) Moreover, when contract involves the alienation or giving up of property, the
external thing is now an explicit embodiment of the unity of wills. In contractual relations of
exchange, what remains identical as the property of the individuals is its value, in respect to
which the parties to the contract are on an equal footing, regardless of the qualitative
external differences between the things exchanged. "Value is the universal in which the
subjects of the contract participate" (¶ 77).

(3) Wrong (the particular will opposing itself to the universal)

In immediate relations of persons to one another it is possible for a particular will to be at

variance with the universal through arbitrariness of decision and contingency of
circumstance, and so the appearance (Erscheinung) of right takes on the character of a show
(Schein), which is the inessential, arbitrary, posing as the essential. If the "show" is only
implicit and not explicit also, i.e., if the wrong passes in the doer's eyes as right, the wrong is
non-malicious. In fraud a show is made to deceive the other party and so in the doer's eyes
the right asserted is only a show. Crime is wrong both in itself and from the doer's point of
view, such that wrong is willed without even the pretense or show of right. Here the form of
acting does not imply a recognition of right but rather is an act of coercion through exercise
of force. It is a "negatively infinite judgement" in that it asserts a denial of rights to the victim,
which is not only incompatible with the fact of the matter but also self-negating in denying
its own capacity for rights in principle.
The penalty that falls on the criminal is not merely just but is "a right established within the
criminal himself, i.e., in his objectively embodied will, in his action," because the crime as the
action of a rational being implies appeal to a universal standard recognized by the criminal
(¶ 100). The annulling of crime in this sphere of immediate right occurs first as revenge,
which as retributive is just in its content, but in its form it is an act of a subjective will and
does not correspond with its universal content and hence as a new transgression is defective
and contradictory (¶ 102). All crimes are comparable in their universal property of being
injuries, thus, in a sense it is not something personal but the concept itself which carries out
retribution.
Crime, as the will which is implicitly null, contains its negation in itself, which is its
punishment.
The nullity of crime is that it has set aside right as such, but since right is absolute it cannot
be set aside. Thus, the act of crime is not something positive, not a first thing, but is something
negative, and punishment is the negation of crime's negation.

b. Morality
The demand for justice as punishment rather than as revenge, with regard to wrong, implies
the demand for a will which, though particular and subjective, also wills the universal as
such. In wrong the will has become aware of itself as particular and has opposed itself to and
contradicted the universal embodied in rights. At this stage the universally right is abstract
and one-sided and thus requires a move to a higher level of self-consciousness where the
universally right is mediated by the particular convictions of the willing subject. We go
beyond the criminal's defiance of the universal by substituting for the abstract conception of
personality the more concrete conception of subjectivity. The criminal is now viewed as
breaking his own law, and his crime is a self-contradiction and not only a contradiction of a
right outside him. This recognition brings us to the level of morality (Moralität) where the
will is free both in itself and for itself, i.e., the will is self-conscious of its subjective freedom.
At the level of morality the right of the subjective will is embodied in immediate wills (as
opposed to immediate things like property). The defect of this level, however, is that the
subject is only for itself, i.e., one is conscious of one's subjectivity and independence but is
conscious of universality only as something different from this subjectivity. Therefore, the
identity of the particular will and the universal will is only implicit and the moral point of
view is that of a relation of "ought-to-be," or the demand for what is right. While the moral
will externalizes itself in action, its self-determination is a pure "restlessness" of activity that
never arrives at actualization.

The right of the moral will has three aspects. First, there is the right of the will to act in its
external environment, to recognize as its actions only those that it has consciously willed in
light of an aim or purpose (purpose and responsibility). Second, in my intention I ought to
be aware not simply of my particular action but also of the universal which is conjoined with
it. The universal is what I have willed and is my intention. The right of intention is that the
universal quality of the action is not merely implied but is known by the agent, and so it lies
from the start in one's subjective will. Moreover, the content of such a will is not only the
right of the particular subject to be satisfied but is elevated to a universal end, the end of
welfare or happiness (intention and welfare). The welfare of many unspecified persons is
thus also an essential end and right of subjectivity. However, right as an abstract universal
and welfare as abstract particularity, may collide, since both are contingent on circumstances
for their satisfaction, e.g., in cases where claims of right or welfare by someone may endanger
the life of another there can be a counter-claim to a right of distress. "This distress reveals
the finitude and therefore the contingency of both right and welfare" (¶ 128). This
"contradiction" between right and welfare is overcome in the third aspect of the moral will,
the good which is "the Idea as the unity of the concept of the will with the particular will" (¶
129).
In addition to the right of the subjective will that whatever it recognizes as valid shall be seen
by it as good, and that an action shall be imputed to it as good or evil in accordance with its
knowledge of the worth which the action has in its external objectivity (¶ 132), which
together constitute a "right of insight," the will also must recognize the good as its duty,
which is, to begin with, duty for duty's sake, or duty formally and without content (e.g., as
expressed in the Kantian "categorical imperative"). Because of this lack of content, the
subjective will in its abstract reflection into itself is "absolute inward certainty (Gewißheit)
of self," or conscience (Gewissen). While true or authentic conscience is the disposition to will
what is absolutely good, and thus correspond with what is objectively right, purely formal
conscience lacks an objective system of principles and duties. Although conscience is ideally
supposed to mean the identity of subjective knowing and willing with the truly good, when
it remains the subjective inner reflection of self-consciousness into itself its claim to this
identity is deficient and one-sided. Moreover, when the determinate character of right and
duty reduces to subjectivity, the mere inwardness of the will, there is the potentiality of
elevating the self-will of particular individuals above the universal itself, i.e., of "slipping into
evil" (¶ 139). What makes a person evil is the choosing of natural desires in opposition to
the good, i.e., to the concept of the will. When an individual attempts to pass off his or her
action as good, and thus imposing it on others, while being aware of the discrepancy between
its negative character and the objective universal good, the person falls into hypocrisy. This
is one of several forms of perverse moral subjectivity that Hegel discusses at length in his
remarks (¶ 140).
c. Ethical Life
Hegel's analysis of the moral implications of "good and conscience" leads to the conclusion
that a concrete unity of the objective good with the subjectivity of the will cannot be achieved
at the level of personal morality since all attempts at this are problematic. The concrete
identity of the good with the subjective will occurs only in moving to the level of ethical life
(Sittlichkeit), which Hegel says is "the Idea of freedom…the concept of freedom developed
into the existing world and the nature of self-consciousness" (¶ 142). Thus, ethical life is
permeated with both objectivity and subjectivity: regarded objectively it is the state and its
institutions, whose force (unlike abstract right) depends entirely on the self-consciousness
of citizens, on their subjective freedom; regarded subjectively it is the ethical will of the
individual which (unlike the moral will) is aware of objective duties that express one's inner
sense of universality. The rationality of the ethical order of society is thus constituted in the
synthesis of the concept of the will, both as universal and as particular, with its embodiment
in institutional life.
The synthesis of ethical life means that individuals not only act in conformity with the ethical
good but that they recognize the authority of ethical laws. This authority is not something
alien to individuals since they are linked to the ethical order through a strong identification
which Hegel says "is more like an identity than even the relation of faith or trust" (¶ 147).
The knowledge of how the laws and institutions of society are binding on the will of
individuals entails a "doctrine of duties." In duty the individual finds liberation both from
dependence on mere natural impulse, which may or may not motivate ethical actions, and
from indeterminate subjectivity which cannot produce a clear view of proper action. "In duty
the individual acquires his substantive freedom" (¶ 149). In the performance of duty the
individual exhibits virtue when the ethical order is reflected in his or her character, and when
this is done by simple conformity with one's duties it is rectitude. When individuals are
simply identified with the actual ethical order such that their ethical practices are habitual
and second nature, ethical life appears in their general mode of conduct as custom (Sitten).
Thus, the ethical order manifests its right and validity vis-à-vis individuals. In duty "the self-
will of the individual vanishes together with his private conscience which had claimed
independence and opposed itself to the ethical substance. For when his character is ethical,
he recognizes as the end which moves him to act the universal which is itself unmoved but
is disclosed in its specific determinations as rationality actualized. He knows that his own
dignity and the whole stability of his particular ends are grounded in this same universal,
and it is therein that he actually attains these" (¶ 152). However, this does not deny the right
of subjectivity, i.e., the right of individuals to be satisfied in their particular pursuits and free
activity; but this right is realized only in belonging to an objective ethical order. The "bond
of duty" will be seen as a restriction on the particular individual only if the self-will of
subjective freedom is considered in the abstract, apart from an ethical order (as is the case
for both Abstract Right and Morality). "Hence, in this identity of the universal will with the
particular will, right and duty coalesce, and by being in the ethical order a man has rights in
so far as he has duties, and duties in so far as he has rights" (¶ 155).
In the realm of ethical life the logical syllogism of self-determination of the Idea is most
clearly applied. The moments of universality, particularity, and individuality initially are
represented respectively in the institutions of the family, civil society, and the state. The
family is "ethical mind in its natural or immediate phase" and is characterized by love or the
feeling of unity in which one is not conscious of oneself as an independent person but only
as a member of the family unit to which one is bound. Civil society, on the other hand,
comprises an association of individuals considered as self-subsistent and who have no
conscious sense of unity of membership but only pursue self-interest, e.g., in satisfying needs,
acquiring and protecting property, and in joining organizations for mutual advantage.
Finally, the constitution of the political state brings together in a unity the sense of the
importance of the whole or universal good along with the freedom of particularity of
individual pursuits and thus is "the end and actuality of both the substantial order and the
public life devoted thereto" (¶ 157).

i. The Family
The family is characterized by love which is "mind's feeling of its own unity," where one's
sense of individuality is within this unity, not as an independent individual but as a member
essentially related to the other family members. Thus, familial love implies a contradiction
between, on the one hand, not wanting to be a self-subsistent and independent person if that
means feeling incomplete and, on the other hand, wanting to be recognized in another
person. Familial love is truly an ethical unity, but because it is nonetheless a subjective
feeling it is limited in sustaining unity (pars. 158-59, and additions).

(A) Marriage

The union of man and woman in marriage is both natural and spiritual, i.e., is a physical
relationship and one that is also self-conscious, and it is entered into on the basis of the free
consent of the persons. Since this consent involves bringing two persons into a union, there
is the mutual surrender of their natural individuality for the sake of union, which is both a
self-restriction and also a liberation because in this way individuals attain a higher self-
consciousness.

(B) Family Capital

The family as a unit has its external existence in property, specifically capital (Vermögen)
which constitutes permanent and secured possessions that allow for endurance of the family
as "person" (¶ 170). This capital is the common property of all the family members, none of
whom possess property of their own, but it is administered by the head of the family, the
husband.
(C) Education of Children & Dissolution of the Family

Children provide the external and objective basis for the unity of marriage. The love of the
parents for their children is the explicit expression of their love for each other, while their
immediate feelings of love for each other are only subjective. Children have the right to
maintenance and education, and in this regard a claim upon the family capital, but parents
have the right to provide this service to the children and to instill discipline over the wishes
of their children. The education of children has a twofold purpose: the positive aim of
instilling ethical principles in them in the form of immediate feeling and the negative one of
raising them out of the instinctive physical level. Marriage can be dissolved not by whim but
by duly constituted authority when there is total estrangement of husband and wife. The
ethical dissolution of the family results when the children have been educated to be free and
responsible persons and they are of mature age under the law. The natural dissolution of the
family occurs with the death of the parents, the result of which is the passing of inheritance
of property to the surviving family members. The disintegration of the family exhibits its
immediacy and contingency as an expression of the ethical Idea (pars. 173-80).

ii. Civil Society

With civil society (bürgerliche Gesellschaft) we move from the family or "the ethical idea still
in its concept," where consciousness of the whole or totality is focal, to the "determination
of particularity," where the satisfaction of subjective needs and desires is given free reign
(pars. 181-182). However, despite the pursuit of private or selfish ends in relatively
unrestricted social and economic activity, universality is implicit in the differentiation of
particular needs insofar as the welfare of an individual in society is intrinsically bound up
with that of others, since each requires another in some way to effectively engage in
reciprocal activities like commerce, trade, etc. Because this system of interdependence is not
self-conscious but exists only in abstraction from the individual pursuit of need satisfaction,
here particularity and universality are only externally related. Hegel says that "this system
may be prima facie regarded as the external state, the state based on need, the state as the
Understanding (Verstand) envisages it" (¶ 183). However, civil society is also a realm of
mediation of particular wills through social interaction and a means whereby individuals are
educated (Bildung) through their efforts and struggles toward a higher universal
consciousness.
(A) The System of Needs

This dimension of civil society involves the pursuit of need satisfaction. Humans are different
from animals in their ability to multiply needs and differentiate them in various ways, which
leads to their refinement and luxury. Political economy discovers the necessary
interconnections in the social and universalistic side of need. Work is the mode of acquisition
and transformation of the means for satisfying needs as well as a mode of practical education
in abilities and understanding. Work also reveals the way in which people are dependent
upon one another in their self-seeking and how each individual contributes to the need
satisfaction of all others. Society generates a "universal permanent capital" (¶ 199) that
everyone in principle can draw upon, but the natural inequalities between individuals will
translate into social inequalities. Furthermore, labor undergoes a division according to the
complexities of the system of production, which is reflected in social class divisions: the
agricultural (substantial or immediate); the business (reflecting or formal); and the civil
servants (universal). Membership in a class is important for gaining status and recognition
in a civil society. Hegel says that "A man actualizes himself only in becoming something
definite, i.e., something specifically particularized; this means restricting himself exclusively
to one of the particular spheres of need. In this class-system, the ethical frame of mind
therefore is rectitude and esprit de corps, i.e., the disposition to make oneself a member of
one of the moments of civil society by one's own act … in this way gaining recognition both
in one's own eyes and in the eyes of others" (¶ 207).
The "substantial" agricultural class is based upon family relationships whose capital is in the
products of nature, such as the land, and tends to be patriarchial, unreflective, and oriented
toward dependence rather than free activity. In contrast to this focus on "immediacy," the
business class is oriented toward work and reflection, e.g., in transforming raw materials for
use and exchange, which is a form of mediation of humans to one another. The main activities
of the business class are craftsmanship, manufacture, and trade. The third class is the class
of civil servants, which Hegel calls the "universal class" because it has the universal interests
of society as its concern. Members of this class are relieved from having to labor to support
themselves and maintain their livelihood either from private resources such as inheritance
or are paid a salary by the state as members of the bureaucracy. These individuals tend to be
highly educated and must qualify for appointment to government positions on the basis of
merit.

(B) Administration of Justice

The principle of rightness becomes civil law (Gesetz) when it is posited, and in order to have
binding force it must be given determinate objective existence. To be determinately existent,
laws must be made universally known through a public legal code. Through a rational legal
system, private property and personality are given legal recognition and validity in civil
society, and wrongdoing now becomes an infringement, not merely of the subjective right of
individuals but also of the larger universal will that exists in ethical life. The court of justice
is the means whereby right is vindicated as something universal by addressing particular
cases of violation or conflict without mere subjective feeling or private bias. "Instead of the
injured party, the injured universal now comes on the scene, and … this pursuit consequently
ceases to be the subjective and contingent retribution of revenge and is transformed into the
genuine reconciliation of right with itself, i.e, into punishment" (¶ 220). Moreover, court
proceedings and legal processes must take place according to rights and rules of evidence;
judicial proceedings as well as the laws themselves must be made public; trial should be by
jury; and punishment should fit the crime. Finally, in the administration of justice, "civil
society returns to its concept, to the unity of the implicit universal with the subjective
particular, although here the latter is only that present in single cases and the universality in
question is that of abstract right" (¶ 229).
(C) The Police and the Corporation

The Police (Polizei) for Hegel is understood broadly as the public authorities in civil society.
In addition to crime fighting organizations, it includes agencies that provide oversight over
public utilities as well as regulation of and, when necessary, intervention into activities
related to the production, distribution, and sale of goods and services, or with any of the
contingencies that can affect the rights and welfare of individuals and society generally (e.g.,
defense of the public's right not to be defrauded, and also the management of goods
inspection). Also, the public authority superintends education and organizes the relief of
poverty. Poverty must be addressed both through private charity and public assistance since
in civil society it constitutes a social wrong when poverty results in the creation of a class of
"penurious rabble" (¶ 245). Society looks to colonization to increase its wealth but poverty
remains a problem with no apparent solution.
The corporation (Korporation) applies especially to the business class, since this class is
concentrated on the particularities of social existence and the corporation has the function
of bringing implicit similarities between various private interests into explicit existence in
forms of association. This is not the same as our contemporary business corporation but
rather is a voluntary association of persons based on occupational or various social interests
(such as professional and trade guilds, educational clubs, religious societies, townships, etc.)
Because of the integrating function of the corporation, especially in regard to the social and
economic division of labor, what appear as selfish purposes in civil society are shown to be
at the same time universal through the formation of concretely recognized commonalities.
Hegel says that "a Corporation has the right, under the surveillance of the public authority,
(a) to look after its own interests within its own sphere, (b) to co-opt members, qualified
objectively by requisite skill and rectitude, to a number fixed by the general structure of
society, (c) to protect its members against particular contingencies, (d) to provide the
education requisite to fit other to become members. In short, the right is to come on the scene
like a second family for its members …" (¶ 252). Furthermore, the family is assured greater
stability of livelihood insofar as its providers are corporation members who command the
respect due to them in their social positions. "Unless he is a member of an authorized
Corporation (and it is only by being authorized that an association becomes a Corporation),
an individual is without rank or dignity, his isolation reduces his business to mere self-
seeking, and his livelihood and satisfaction become insecure" (¶ 253). Because individual
self-seeking is raised to a higher level of common pursuits, albeit restricted to the interest of
a sectional group, individual self-consciousness is raised to relative universality. Hence, "As
the family was the first, so the Corporation is the second ethical root of the state, the one
planted in civil society" (¶ 255).
iii. The State
The political State, as the third moment of Ethical Life, provides a synthesis between the
principles governing the Family and those governing Civil Society. The rationality of the state
is located in the realization of the universal substantial will in the self-consciousness of
particular individuals elevated to consciousness of universality. Freedom becomes explicit
and objective in this sphere. "Since the state is mind objectified, it is only as one of its
members that the individual has objectivity, genuine individuality, and an ethical life … and
the individual's destiny is the living of a universal life" (¶ 258). Rationality is concrete in the
state in so far as its content is comprised in the unity of objective freedom (freedom of the
universal or substantial will) and subjective freedom (freedom of everyone in knowing and
willing of particular ends); and in its form rationality is in self-determining action or laws
and principles which are logical universal thoughts (as in the logical syllogism).

The Idea of the State is itself divided into three moments: (a) the immediate actuality of the
state as a self-dependent organism, or Constitutional Law; (b) the relation of states to other
states in International Law; (c) the universal Idea as Mind or Spirit which gives itself actuality
in the process of World-History.

1) Constitutional Law
(1) The Constitution (internally)

Only through the political constitution of the State can universality and particularity be
welded together into a real unity. The self-consciousness of this unity is expressed in the
recognition on the part of each citizen that the full meaning of one's actual freedom is found
in the objective laws and institutions provided by the State. The aspect of identity comes to
the fore in the recognition that individual citizens give to the ethical laws such that they "do
not live as private persons for their own ends alone, but in the very act of willing these they
will the universal in the light of the universal, and their activity is consciously aimed at none
but the universal end" (¶ 260). The aspect of differentiation, on the other hand, is found in
"the right of individuals to their particular satisfaction," the right of subjective freedom
which is maintained in Civil Society. Thus, according to Hegel, "the universal must be
furthered, but subjectivity on the other hand must attain its full and living development. It is
only when both these moments subsist in their strength that the state can be regarded as
articulated and genuinely organized" (¶ 260, addition).

As was indicated in the introduction to the concept of Ethical Life above, the higher authority
of the laws and institutions of society requires a doctrine of duties. From the vantage point
of the political State, this means that there must be a correlation between rights and duties.
"In the state, as something ethical, as the inter-penetration of the substantive and the
particular, my obligation to what is substantive is at the same time the embodiment of my
particular freedom. This means that in the state duty and right are united in one and the
same relation" (¶ 261). In fulfilling one's duties one is also satisfying particular interests, and
the conviction that this is so Hegel calls "political sentiment" (politische Gesinnung) or
patriotism. "This sentiment is, in general, trust (which may pass over into a greater or lesser
degree of educated insight), or the consciousness that my interest, both substantive and
particular, is contained and preserved in another's (that is, the state's) interest and end, i.e.,
in the other's relation to me as an individual" (¶ 268).
Thus, the "bond of duty" cannot involve being coerced into obeying the laws of the State.
"Commonplace thinking often has the impression that force holds the state together, but in
fact its only bond is the sense of order which everybody possesses" (¶ 268, addition).

According to Hegel, the political state is rational in so far as it inwardly differentiates itself
according to the nature of the Concept (Begriff). The principle of the division of powers
expresses inner differentiation, but while these powers are distinguished they must also be
built into an organic whole such that each contains in itself the other moments so that the
political constitution is a concrete unity in difference. Constitutional Law is accordingly
divided into three moments: (a) the Legislature which establishes the universal through
lawmaking; (b) the Executive which subsumes the particular under the universal through
administering the laws; (c) the Crown which is the power of subjectivity of the state in the
providing of the act of "ultimate decision" and thus forming into unity the other two powers.
Despite the syllogistic sequence of universality, particularity, and individuality in these three
constitutional powers, Hegel discusses the Crown first followed by the Executive and the
Legislature respectively. Hegel understands the concept of the Crown in terms of
constitutional monarchy.
(a) The Crown

"The power of the crown contains in itself the three moments of the whole, namely, ()
the universality of the constitution and the laws; () counsel, which refers the particular to
the universal; and () the moment of ultimate decision, as the self-determination to which
everything else reverts and from which everything else derives the beginning of its actuality"
(¶ 275). The third moment is what gives expression to the sovereignty of the state, i.e., that
the various activities, agencies, functions and powers of the state are not self-subsistent but
rather have their basis ultimately in the unity of the state as a single self or self-organized
organic whole. The monarch is the bearer of the individuality of the state and its sovereignty
is the ideality in unity in which the particular functions and powers of the state subsist. "It is
only as a person, the monarch, that the personality of the state is actual. Personality
expresses the concept as such; but the person enshrines the actuality of the concept, and only
when the concept is determined as a person is it the Idea or truth" (¶ 279).
The monarch is not a despot but rather a constitutional monarch, and he does not act in a
capricious manner but is bound by a decision-making process, in particular to the
recommendations and decisions of his cabinet (supreme advisory council). The monarch
functions solely to give agency to the state, and so his personal traits are irrelevant and his
ascending to the throne is based on hereditary succession, and thus on the accident of birth.
"In a completely organized state, it is only a question of the culminating point of formal
decision … he has only to say 'yes' and dot the 'i' …. In a well organized monarchy, the
objective aspect belongs to law alone, and the monarch's part is merely to set to the law the
subjective 'I will'" (¶ 280, addition). The "majesty of the monarch" lies in the free asserting
of 'I will' as an expression of the unity of the state and the final step in establishing law.

(b) The Executive

The executive has the task of executing and applying the decisions formally made by the
monarch. "This task of merely subsuming the particular under the universal is comprised in
the executive power, which also includes the powers of the judiciary and the police" (¶ 287).
Also, the executive is the higher authority that oversees the filling of positions of
responsibilities in corporations. The executive is comprised of the civil servants proper and
the higher advisory officials organized into committees, both of which are connected to the
monarch through their supreme departmental heads. Overall, government has its division of
labor into various centers of administration managed by special officials. Individuals are
appointed to executive functions on the basis of their knowledgibility and proof of ability
and tenure is conditional on the fulfillment of duties, with the offices in the civil service being
open to all citizens.

The executive is not an unchecked bureaucratic authority. "The security of the state and its
subjects against the misuse of power by ministers and their officials lies directly in their
hierarchical organization and their answerability; but it lies too in the authority given to
societies and corporations …" (¶ 295). However, civil servants will tend to be dispassionate,
upright, and polite in part as "a result of direct education in thought and ethical conduct" (¶
296). Civil servants and the members of the executive make up the largest section of the
middle class, the class with a highly developed intelligence and consciousness of right.
Moreover, "The sovereign working on the middle class at the top, and Corporation-rights
working on it at the bottom, are the institutions which effectively prevent it from acquiring
the isolated position of an aristocracy and using its education and skill as a means to an
arbitrary tyranny" (¶ 297).

(c) The Legislature

For Hegel, "The legislature is concerned (a) with the laws as such in so far as they require
fresh and extended determination; and (b) with the content of home affairs affecting the
entire state" (¶ 298). Legislative activity focuses on both providing well-being and happiness
for citizens as well as exacting services from them (largely in the form of monetary taxes).
The proper function of legislation is distinguished from the function of administration and
state regulation in that the content of the former are determinate laws that are wholly
universal whereas in administration it is application of the law to particulars, along with
enforcing the law. Hegel also says that the other two moments of the political constitution,
the monarchy and the executive, are the first two moments of the legislature, i.e., are
reflected in the legislature respectively through the ultimate decision regarding proposed
laws and an advising function in their formation. Hegel rejects the idea of independence or
separation of powers for the sake of checks and balances, which he holds destroys the unity
of the state (¶ 300, addition). The third moment in the legislature is the estates (Stände),
which are the classes of society given political recognition in the legislature.
In the legislature, the estates "have the function of bringing public affairs into existence not
only implicitly, but also actually, i.e., of bringing into existence the moment of subjective
formal freedom, the public consciousness as an empirical universal, of which the thoughts
and opinions of the Many are particulars" (¶ 301). Not only do the estates guarantee the
general welfare and public freedom, but they are also the means by which the state as a
whole enters the subjective consciousness of the people through their participation in the
state. Thus, the estates incorporate the private judgment and will of individuals in civil
society and give it political significance.

The estates have an important integrating function in the state overall. "Regarded as a
mediating organ, the Estates stand between the government in general on the one hand, and
the nation broken up into particulars (people and associations) on the other. … [I]n common
with the organized executive, they are a middle term preventing both the extreme isolation
of the power of the crown … and also the isolation of the particular interests of persons,
societies and Corporations" (¶ 302). Also, the organizing function of the estates prevents
groups in society from becoming formless masses that could form anti-government feelings
and rise up in blocs in opposition to the state.

The three classes of civil society, the agricultural, the business, and the universal class of civil
servants, are each given political voice in the Estates Assembly in accordance with their
distinctiveness in the lower spheres of civil life. The legislature is divided into two houses,
an upper and lower. The upper house comprises the agricultural estate (including the
peasant farmers and landed aristocracy), a class "whose ethical life is natural, whose basis is
family life, and, so far as its livelihood is concerned, the possession of land. Its particular
members attain their position by birth, just as the monarch does, and, in common with him,
they possess a will which rests on itself alone" (¶ 305). Landed gentry inherit their estates
and so owe their position to birth (primogeniture) and thus are free from the exigencies and
uncertainties of the life of business and state interference. The relative independence of this
class makes it particularly suited for public office as well as a mediating element between
the crown and civil society.

The second section of the estates, the business class, comprises the "fluctuating and
changeable element in civil society" which can enter politics only through its deputies or
representatives (unlike the agricultural estate from which members can present themselves
to the Estates Assembly in person). The appointment of deputies is "made by society as a
society" both because of the multiplicity of members but also because representation must
reflect the organization of civil society into associations, communities, and corporations. It
is only as a member of such groups that an individual is a member of the state, and hence
rational representation implies that consent to legislation is to be given not directly by all
but only by "plenipotentiaries" who are chosen on the basis of their understanding of public
affairs as well as managerial and political acumen, character, insight, etc. Moreover, their
charge is to further the general interest of society and not the interest of a particular
association or corporation instead (¶ 308-10).
The deputies of civil society are selected by the various corporations, not on the basis of
universal direct suffrage which Hegel believed inevitably leads to electoral indifference, and
they adopt the point of view of society. "Deputies are sometimes regarded as
'representatives'; but they are representatives in an organic, rational sense only if they are
representatives not of individuals or a conglomeration of them, but of one of the essential
spheres of society and its large-scale interests. Hence, representation cannot now be taken
to mean simply the substitution of one man for another; the point is that the interest itself is
actually present in its representative, while he himself is there to represent the objective
element of his own being" (¶ 311).

The debates that take place in the Estates Assembly are to be open to the public, whereby
citizens can become politically educated both about national affairs and the true character
of their own interests. "The formal subjective freedom of individuals consists in their having
and expressing their own private judgements, opinions, and recommendations as affairs of
state. This freedom is collectively manifested as what is called 'public opinion', in which what
is absolutely universal, the substantive and the true, is linked with its opposite, the purely
particular and private opinions of the Many" (¶ 316). Public opinion is a "standing self-
contradiction" because, on the one hand, it gives expression to genuine needs and proper
tendencies of common life along with common sense views about important matters and, on
the other, is infected with accidental opinion, ignorance, and faulty judgment. "Public opinion
therefore deserves to be as much respected as despised -- despised for its concrete
expression and for the concrete consciousness it expresses, respected for its essential basis,
a basis which only glimmers more or less dimly in that concrete expression" (¶ 318).
Moreover, while there is freedom of public communication, freedom of the press is not
totally unrestricted as freedom does not mean absence of all restriction, either in word or
deed.

Hegel calls the class of civil servants the "universal class" not only because as members of
the executive their function is to "subsume the particular under the universal" in the
administration of law, but also because they reflect a disposition of mind (due perhaps
largely from their education) that transcends concerns with selfish ends in the devotion to
the discharge of public functions and to the public universal good. As one of the classes of the
estates, civil servants also participate in the legislature as an "unofficial class," which seems
to mean that as members of the executive they will attend legislative assemblies in an
advisory capacity, but this is not entirely clear from Hegel's text. Also, given that the monarch
and the classes of civil society when conceived in abstraction are opposed to each other as
"the one and the many," they must become "fused into a unity" or mediated together through
the civil servant class. From the point of view of the crown the executive is such a middle
term, because it carries out the final decisions of the crown and makes it "particularized" in
civil society. On the other hand, in order for the classes of civil society to actually sense this
unity with the crown a mediation must occur from the other direction, so to speak, where
the upper house of the estates, in virtue of certain likenesses to the Crown (e.g., role of birth
for one's position) is able to mediate between the Crown and civil society as a whole.

(2) Sovereignty vis-à-vis foreign States

The interpenetration of the universal with the particular will through a complex system of
social and political mediations is what produces the self-consciousness of the nation-state
considered as an organic (internally differentiated and interrelated) totality or concrete
individual. In this system, particular individuals consciously pursue the universal ends of the
State, not out of external or mechanical conformity to law, but in the free development of
personal individuality and the expression of the unique subjectivity of each. However,
individuality is not something possessed by particular persons alone, or even primarily by
such persons. The state as a whole, i.e., the nation-state as distinct from the political state as
one of its moments, constitutes a higher form of individuality. In principle, Mind or Spirit
possesses a singleness in its "negative self-relation," i.e., in the sense that unity in a being is
a function of setting itself off from other beings. "Individuality is awareness of one's existence
as a unit in sharp distinction from others. It manifests itself here in the state as a relation to
other states, each of which is autonomous vis-à-vis the others. This autonomy embodies
mind's actual awareness of itself as a unit and hence it is the most fundamental freedom
which a people possesses as well as its highest dignity" (¶ 322). For any being to have self-
conscious independence requires distinguishing the self from any of its contingent
characteristics (inner self-negation), which externally is a distinction from another being.
This consciousness of what one is not is for the nation-state its negative relation to itself
embodied externally in the world as the relation of one state to another. However, this is not
a mere externality, "But in fact this negative relation is that moment in the state which is
most supremely its own, the state's actual infinity as the ideality of everything finite within
it" (¶ 323).

According to Hegel, war is an "ethical moment" in the life of a nation-state and hence is
neither purely accidental nor an inherent evil. Because there is no higher earthly power
ruling over nation-states, and because these entities are oriented to preserving their
existence and sovereignty, conflicts leading to war are inevitable. Also, defense of one's
nation is an ethical duty and the ultimate test of one's patriotism is war. "Sacrifice on behalf
of the individuality of the state is the substantial tie between the state and all its members
and so is a universal duty" (¶ 325). In making a sacrifice for the sake of the state individuals
prove their courage, which involves a transcendence of concern with egoistic interests and
mere material existence. "The intrinsic worth of courage as a disposition of mind is to be
found in the genuine absolute, final end, the sovereignty of the state. The work of courage is
to actualize this final end, and the means to this end is the sacrifice of personal actuality" (¶
328). Moreover, war, along with catastrophy, disease, etc, highlights the finitude, insecurity,
and ultimate transitoriness of human existence and puts the health of a state to a test. Hegel
does not consider the ideal of "perpetual peace," as advocated by Kant, a realistic goal
towards which humanity can strive. Not only is the sovereignty of each state imprescriptible,
but any alliance or league of states will be established in opposition to others.

2) International Law
"International law springs from the relations between autonomous states. It is for this reason
that what is absolute in it retains the form of an ought-to-be, since its actuality depends on
different wills each of which is sovereign" (¶ 330). States are not private persons in civil
society who pursue their self-interest in the context of universal interdependence but rather
are completely autonomous entities with no relations of private right or morality. However,
since a state cannot escape having relations with other states, there must be at least some
sort of recognition of each by the other. International law prescribes that treaties between
states ought to be kept, but this universal proviso remains abstract because the sovereignty
of a state is its guiding principle, hence states are to that extent in a state of nature in relation
to each other (in the Hobbesian sense of there being natural rights to one's survival with no
natural duties to others). "Their rights are actualized only in their particular wills and not in
a universal will with constitutional powers over them. This universal proviso of international
law therefore does not go beyond an ought-to-be, and what really happens is that
international relations in accordance with treaty alternate with the severance of these
relations" (¶ 333). Obviously, if states come to disagree about the nature of their treaties,
etc., and there is no acceptable compromise for each party, then matters will ultimately be
settled by war.

States recognize their own welfare as the highest law governing their relations to one
another, however, the claim by a state to recognition of this welfare is quite different from
claims to welfare by individual person in civil society. "The ethical substance, the state, has
its determinate being, i.e., its right, directly embodied in something existent … and the
principle of its conduct and behavior can only be this concrete existent and not one of many
universal thoughts supposed to be moral commands" (¶ 337). States recognize each other as
states, and even in war there is awareness of the possibility that peace can be restored and
that therefore war ought to come to an end, as well as understandings about the proper
limitations on the waging of war. However, at most this translates into the jus gentium, the
law of nations understood as customary relationships, which remains a "maelstrom of
external contingency." The principles of the mind or spirit (Volksgeist) of a nation-state are
wholly restricted because its particularity is already that of realized individuality, possessing
objective actuality and self-consciousness. Hence, the reciprocal relations of states to one
another partake of a "dialectic of finitude" out of which arises the universal mind, "the mind
of the world, free from all restriction, producing itself as that which exercises its right–and
its right is the highest right of all–over these finite minds in the 'history of the world which
is the world's court of judgment'" (¶ 340).
3) World History
To say that history is the world's court of judgment is to say that over and above the nation-
states, or national "spirits," there is the mind or Spirit of the world (Weltgeist) which
pronounces its verdict through the development of history itself. The verdicts of world
history, however, are not expressions of mere might, which in itself is abstract and non-
rational. Rather than blind destiny, "world history is the necessary development, out of the
concepts of mind's freedom alone, of the moments of reason and so of the self-consciousness
and freedom of mind" (¶ 342). The history of Spirit is the development through time of its
own self-consciousness through the actions of peoples, states, and world historical actors
who, while absorbed in their own interests, are nonetheless the unconscious instruments of
the work of Spirit. "All actions, including world-historical actions, culminate with individuals
as subjects giving actuality to the substantial. They are the living instruments of what is in
substance the deed of the world mind and they are therefore directly at one with that deed
though it is concealed from them and is not their aim and object" (¶ 348). The actions of great
men are produced through their subjective willing and their passion, but the substance of
these deeds is actually the accomplishment not of the individual agent but of the World Spirit
(e.g., the founding of states by world-historical heroes).
Hegel says that in the history of the world we can distinguish several important formations
of the self-consciousness of Spirit in the course of its free self-development, each
corresponding to a significant principle. More specifically, there are four world-historical
epochs, each manifesting a principle of Spirit as expressed through a dominant culture. In
the Philosophy of Right, Hegel discusses these in a very abbreviated way in paragraphs 253-
260, which brings this work to an end. Here we will draw from the more elaborated
treatment in the appendix to the introduction to Hegel's lectures on the Philosophy of World
History.
(1) The Oriental Realm (mind in its immediate substance)

Here Spirit exists in its substantiality (objectivity) without inward differentiation.

Individuals have no self-consciousness of personality or of rights–they are still immersed in
external nature (and their divinities are naturalistic as well). Hegel characterizes this stage
as one of consciousness in its immediacy, where subjectivity and substantiality are
unmediated. In his Philosophy of History Hegel discusses China, India, and Persia specifically
and suggests that these cultures do not actually have a history but rather are subject to
natural cyclical processes. The typical governments of these cultures are theocratic and more
particularly despotism, aristocracy, and monarchy respectively. Persia and Egypt are seen as
transitional from these "unhistorical" and "non-political" states. Hegel calls this period the
"childhood" of Spirit.
(2) The Greek Realm (mind in the simple unity of subjective and objective)

In this realm, we have the mixing of subjective freedom and substantiality in the ethical life
of the Greek polis, because the ancient Greek city-states give expression to personal
individuality for those who are free and have status. However, the relation of individual to
the state is not self-conscious but is unreflective and based on obedience to custom and
tradition. Hence, the immediate union of subjectivity with the substantial mind is unstable
and leads to fragmentation. This is the period of the "adolescence" of Spirit.
(3) The Roman Realm (mind in its abstract universality)

At this stage, individual personality is recognized in formal rights, thus including a level of
reflection absent in the Greek realm of "beautiful freedom." Here freedom is difficult because
the universal subjugates individuals, i.e., the state becomes an abstraction over above its
citizens who must be sacrificed to the severe demands of a state in which individuals form a
homogeneous mass. A tension between the two principles of individuality and universality
ensues, manifesting itself in the formation of political despotism and insurgency against it.
This realm gives expression to the "manhood" of Spirit.

(4) The Germanic Realm (reconciled unity of subjective and objective mind)
This realm comprises along with Germany and the Nordic peoples the major European
nations (France, Italy, Spain) along with England. The principle of subjective freedom comes
to the fore in such a way as to be made explicit in the life of Spirit and also mediated with
substantiality. This involves a gradual development that begins with the rise of Christianity
and its spiritual reconciliation of inner and outer life and culminates in the appearance of the
modern nation-state, the rational Idea of which is articulated in the Philosophy of Right.
(Along the way there are several milestones Hegel discusses in his Philosophy of History that
are especially important in the developing of the self-consciousness of freedom, in particular
the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and the French Revolution.) One of the significant
features of the modern world is the overcoming of the antithesis of church and state that
developed in the Medieval period. This final stage of Spirit is mature "old age."
In sum, for Hegel the modern nation-state can be said to manifest a "personality" and a self-
consciousness of its inherent nature and goals, indeed a self-awareness of everything which
is implicit in its concept, and is able to act rationally and in accordance with its self-
awareness. The modern nation-state is a "spiritual individual," the true historical individual,
precisely because of the level of realization of self-consciousness that it actualizes. The
development of the perfected nation-state is the end or goal of history because it provides
an optimal level of realization of self-consciousness, a more comprehensive level of
realization of freedom than mere natural individuals, or other forms of human organization,
can produce.

7. Closing Remarks
In closing this account of Hegel's theory of the state, a few words on a "theory and practice"
problem of the modern state. In the preface to the Philosophy of Right Hegel is quite clear
that his science of the state articulates the nature of the state, not as it ought to be, but as it
really is, as something inherently rational. Hegel's famous quote in this regard is "What is
rational is actual and what is actual is rational," where by the 'actual' (Wirklich) Hegel means
not the merely existent, i.e., a state that can be simply identified empirically, but the
actualized or realized state, i.e., one that corresponds to its rational concept and thus in some
sense must be perfected. Later in the introduction of the Idea of the state in paragraph 258,
Hegel is at pains to distinguish the Idea of the state from a state understood in terms of its
historical origins and says that while the state is the way of God in the world we must not
focus on particular states or on particular institutions of the state, but only on the Idea itself.
Furthermore he says, "The state is no ideal work of art; it stands on earth and so in the sphere
of caprice, chance, and error, and bad behavior may disfigure it in many respects. But the
ugliest of men, or a criminal, or an invalid, or a cripple, is still always a living man. The
affirmative, life, subsists despite his defects, and it is this affirmative factor which is our
theme here" (¶ 258, addition). The issue, then, is whether the actual state -- the subject of
philosophical science -- is only a theoretical possibility and whether from a practical point of
view all existing states are in some way disfigured or deficient. Our ability to rationally distill
from existing states their ideal characteristics does not entail that a fully actualized state
does, or will, exist. Hence, there is perhaps some ambiguity in Hegel's claim about the
modern state as an actualization of freedom.
8. References and Further Reading
a. Works by Hegel in German and in English Translation
Below are works by Hegel that relate most directly to his social and political philosophy.

 Encyklopädie der philosophischen Wissenschaften im Grundrisse,

Berlin 1830; ed. G. Lasson & O. Pöggler (Hamburg, 1959).
 In the third volume of this work, The Philosophy of Spirit, the section
on Objective Spirit corresponds to Hegel's Philosophy of Right.
 Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, ed. J. Hoffmeister.
Hamburg, 1955.
 Hegels Grundlinien der Philosophie des Rechts, 2nd edn. hrsg. G.
Lasson. Leipzig, 1921.
 This is the most recent edition referred to in T. M. Knox's translation
of 1952.
 Hegel's Logic, trans. William Wallace. Oxford University Press,
1892.
 Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit, trans. A.V. Miller. Oxford
University Press, 1977.
 Hegel's Philosophy of Mind, trans. William Wallace & A. V. Miller.
Oxford University Press, 1971.
 Hegel's Philosophy of Right, trans. T. M. Knox. Clarendon Press,
1952; Oxford University Press, 1967.
 Hegel's Political Writings, trans. T. M. Knox, with an introductory
essay by Z. A. Pelczynski. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1964.
 This contains the following pieces: "The German Constitution," "On
the Recent Domestic Affairs of Wurtemberg …," "The Proceedings of
the Estates Assembly in the Kingdom of Wurtemberg, 1815-1816,"
and "The English Reform Bill."
 Hegels sämtliche Werke, vol. VIII, ed. E. Gans. Berlin: 1833, 1st ed.;
1854, 2nd ed..
 These were the first editions of the material of The Philosophy of
Right to incorporate additions culled from notes taken at Hegel's
lectures. T. M. Knox reproduces these in his 1952 translation.
 Jenaer Realphilosophie I: Die Vorlesungen von 1803/4, ed. J.
Hoffmeister. Leipzig, 1913.
 Jenaer Realphilosophie II: Die Vorlesungen von 1805/6, ed. J.
Hoffmeister. Hamburg, 1967.
 Lectures on the Philosophy of World History: Introduction, trans.
H. B. Nisbet, with an introduction by Duncan Forbes. Cambridge
University Press, 1975.
 This is based on the 1955 German edition by J. Hoffmeister.
 Natural Law, trans. T. M. Knox, with an introduction by H. B.
Acton. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1977.
 Phänomenologie des Geistes, ed. J. Hoffmeister. Hamburg: Felix
Meiner, 1952.
 The Philosophy of History, trans. J. B. Sibree. New York: Dover
Publications Inc., 1956.
 This is a reprint of the 1899 translation (the first was done in 1857)
of Hegel's Lectures on the Philosophy of History, published by Colonial
House Press. The Dover edition has a new introduction by C. J.
Friedrich.
 Political Writings. Eds. L. Dickie & H. B. Nisbet. Cambridge Texts
in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999.
  Politische Schriften, Nachwort von Jürgen Habermas.
Frankfurt/Main, 1966. A more recent edition of the material of
the Schriften zur Politik (see below).
 Reason in History, trans. R. S. Hartman. New York, 1953. The
introduction to Hegel's lectures on the Philosophy of World
History.
 Schriften zur Politik und Rechtsphilosophie, 2nd ed. hrsg. Georg
Lasson. Leipzig, 1923. This is the basis of T. M. Knox's
translations in Hegel's Political Writings, 1964.
 System of Ethical Life and First Philosophy of Spirit, trans. H. S.
Harris & T. M. Knox. Albany, NY: State University of New York
Press, 1979.
 Die Vernunft in der Geschichte, ed. J. Hoffmeister. Hamburg, 1955.
 This is the fourth edition of Hegel's lectures on the Philosophy of
World History given in Berlin from 1822-1830; the previous editions
were done by Eduard Gans (1837), Karl Hegel (1840), and Georg
Lasson (1917, 1920, 1930). In the 1930 edition, Lasson added
additional manuscript material by Hegel as well as lecture notes from
students, which are preserved in Hoffmeister's edition.
 Werke. Frankfurt: Suhrkamp Verlag, 1970.
 This is the most recent and comprehensive collection of Hegel's
works. His social and political writings are contained in various
volumes.

b. Works on Hegel's Social and Political Philosophy

The books listed below either focus on one or more aspects of Hegel's social and political
thought or include some discussion in this area and, moreover, are significant enough works
on Hegel to be included. The most comprehensive bibliography on Hegel is Hegel-
Bibliographie (München: K. G Saur Verlag, 1980). For books and articles in the last 25 years,
consult the Philosopher's Index.
 Avineri, Shlomo. Hegel's Theory of the Modern State. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1972.
 Bosanquet, Bernard. The Philosophical Theory of the State.
4th edition, London: Macmillan, 1930, 1951.
 Cullen, Bernard. Hegel's Social and Political Thought: An
Introduction. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1979.
 Findlay, John. Hegel: A Re-examination (1958). Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1976.
 Foster, Michael B. The Political Philosophies of Plato and Hegel.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1935/1968.
 Dickey, Laurence. Religion, Economics, and the Politics of Spirit.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987.
 Franco, Paul. Hegel's Philosophy of Freedom. New Haven, CT:
Yale University Press, 2000.
 Gray, Jesse Glen. Hegel And Greek Thought. New York: Harper &
Row, 1968.
 Hardimon, Michael O. Hegel's Social Philosophy: The Project of
Reconciliation. Cambridge University Press, 1994.
 Harris, H. S. Hegel's Development, vols. 1 & 2. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1972, 1983.
 Haym, Rudolf. Hegel und seine Zeit. Berlin, 1857; Hildenshine,
1962).
 Henrich, Dieter & R. P. Horstman. Hegels Philosophie des Rechts.
Stuttgart: Klett-Catta, 1982.
 Hicks, Steven V. International Law and the Possibility of a Just
World Order: An Essay on Hegel's Universalism. Value Inquiry
Book Series 78. Amsterdam/Atlanta, GA: Rodopi, 1999.
 Hyppolite, Jean. Genesis and Structure of Hegel's Phenomenology
of Spirit (1946). Trans. S. Cherniak & J. Heckman. Evanston, IL:
Northwestern University Press, 1974.
 Kainz, Howard P. Hegel's Philosophy of Right with Marx's
Commentary. The Hague: Nijhoff, 1974.
 Kaufman, Walter A. Hegel's Political Philosophy. New York:
Atherton Press, 1970.
 ________. Hegel: A Reinterpretation. New York: Anchor Books,
1966.
 Kelly, George Armstrong. Hegel's Retreat From Eleusis: Studies In
Political Thought. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1978.
 Kojeve, Alexander. Introduction to the Reading of Hegel (1947).
Ed. Allen Bloom, trans. J. H. Nichols. New York: Basic Books, 1969.
 Lakeland, Paul. The Politics of Salvation: The Hegelian Idea of the
State. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1984.
 MacGregor, David. The Communist Ideal in Hegel and Marx.
Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1984.
 ___________. Hegel, Marx, and the English State. University of
Toronto Press, 1996.
 Marcuse, Herbert. Reason and Revolution: Hegel and the Rise of
Social Theory. Boston: Beacon Press, 1960.
 Mehta, V.R. Hegel and the Modern State. New Delhi: Associated
Publishing House, 1968.
 Mitias, Michael. Moral Foundation of the State in Hegel's
Philosophy of Right. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1984.
 Morris, George S. Hegel's Philosophy of the State and of History.
Chicago: S. C. Griggs & Co., 18871, 18922.
 O'Brien, George Dennis. Hegel On Reason and History. Chicago:
Chicago University Press, 1975.
 O'Neil, John, ed. Hegel's Dialectic of Desire and Recognition: Texts
and Commentary. Albany, NY: SUNY Press, 1996.
 Paolucci, Henry. The Political Thought of G. W. F. Hegel.
Whitestone, NY: Griffon House, 1978.
 Pelczynski, Z. A. (ed.). Hegel's Political Philosophy: Problems and
Perspectives. London: Cambridge University Press, 1971.
 ___________. The State and Civil Society: Studies in Hegel's Political
Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984.
 Perkins, Robert L. (ed.). History and System: Hegel's Philosophy of
History. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1984.
 Plamenatz, John. Man and Society, vol. II. London: Longman,
1963.
 Plant, Raymond. Hegel: An Introduction. London: Allen & Unwin
Ltd., 1972; Basil Blackwell, 1983.
 Pepperzak, Adriaan T. Philosophy and Politics: A Commentary to
the Preface of Hegel's Philosophy of Right. Dordrecht: Martinus
Nijhoff Publishers, 1987.
 Popper, Karl. The Open Society and Its Enemies. Princeton:
Princeton University Press, 1966.
 Reyburn, Hugh A. The Ethical Theory of Hegel: A Study of the
Philosophy of Right. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1921.
 Riedel, Manfred. Between Tradition and Revolution: The Hegelian
Transformation of Political Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1984.
 Ritter, Joachim. Hegel and the French Revolution: Essays on ‘The
Philosophy of Right'. trans. Richard Dien Winfield, Cambridge,
MA: The MIT Press, 1982.
 Rosenkranz, Karl. Hegel As The National Philosopher of Germany.
trans. G. S. Hall, St. Louis: Gray, Baker, 1874.
 Rosenweig, Franz. Hegel und der Staat. Berlin/München, 1920;
Aalen: Scientia Verlag, 1982.
 Shanks, Andrew. Hegel's Political Theology. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1991.
 Shklar, Judith N. Freedom and Independence: A Study of the
Political Ideas of Hegel's ‘Phenomenology of Mind'. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1976.
 Siebert, Rudolf J. Hegel's Concept of Marriage and Family: The
Origin of Subjective Freedom. Washington, D.C.: The University
Press of America, 1979.
 _______. Hegel's Philosophy of History: Theological, Humanistic and
Scientific Elements. Washington: University Press of America,
1979.
 Siep, Ludwig. Anerkennung als Prinzip der praktische Philosophie:
Zur Hegels Jenaer Philosophie des Geistes. München, Alber, 1979
 Singer, Peter. Hegel. Past Masters Series (Oxford University
Press, 1983).
 Smith, Steven B. Hegel's Critique of Liberalism: Rights in Context.
Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1989.
 Steinberger, Peter J. Logic and Politics: Hegel's Philosophy of
Right. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982.
 Stepelevich, L. S. & D. Lamb, (eds.). Hegel's Philosophy of
Action. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1983.
 Taylor, Charles. Hegel and Modern Society. New York and London:
Cambridge University Press, 1979.
 Tunick, Mark. Hegel's Political Philosophy. Princeton University
Press, 1992.
 Verene, Donald Phillip (ed.). Hegel's Social and Political Thought:
The Philosophy of Objective Spirit. Atlantic Highlands, NJ:
Humanities Press/Sussex: Harvester Press, 1980.
 Walsh, William Henry. Hegelian Ethics. London/Melbourne:
Macmillan; New York: St. Martin's Press, 1969.
 Wazek, Norbert. The Scottish Enlightenment and Hegel's Account
of 'Civil Society'. Boston: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1988.
 Weil, Eric. Hegel et L'Etat. Paris, 1950.
 Westphal, Merold. History and Truth in Hegel's Phenomenology.
Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press, 1979.
 Wilkins, Burleigh Taylor. Hegel's Philosophy of History. Ithaca:
Cornell University Press, 1974.

  Williams, Robert R. (ed.). Beyond Liberalism and
Communitarianism: Studies in Hegel's Philosophy of Right.
Proceedings of the 15th Biennial Meeting of the Hegel Society of
America. SUNY Press, 2000.
 Wood, Allen. Hegel's Ethical Thought. Cambridge University
Press, 1982.

Socialism
Socialism is both an economic system and an ideology (in the non-pejorative sense of that
term). A socialist economy features social rather than private ownership of the means of
production. It also typically organizes economic activity through planning rather than
market forces, and gears production towards needs satisfaction rather than profit
accumulation. Socialist ideology asserts the moral and economic superiority of an
economy with these features, especially as compared with capitalism. More specifically,
socialists typically argue that capitalism undermines democracy, facilitates exploitation,
distributes opportunities and resources unfairly, and vitiates community, stunting self-
realization and human development. Socialism, by democratizing, humanizing, and
rationalizing economic relations, largely eliminates these problems.
Socialist ideology thus has both critical and constructive aspects. Critically, it provides an
account of what’s wrong with capitalism; constructively, it provides a theory of how to
transcend capitalism’s flaws, namely, by transcending capitalism itself, replacing
capitalism’s central features (private property, markets, profits) with socialist alternatives
(at a minimum social property, but typically planning and production for use as well).

How, precisely, socialist concepts like social ownership and planning should be realized
in practice is a matter of dispute among socialists. One major split concerns the proper
role of markets in a socialist economy. Some socialists argue that extensive reliance on
markets is perfectly compatible with core socialist values. Others disagree, arguing that
to be a socialist is (among other things) to reject the ‘anarchy of the market’ in favor of a
planned economy. But what form of planning should socialists advocate? This is a second
major area of dispute, with some socialists endorsing central planning and others
proposing a radically decentralized, participatory alternative.

This article explores all of these themes. It starts with definitions, then presents normative
arguments for preferring socialism to capitalism, and concludes by discussing three broad
socialist institutional proposals: central planning, participatory planning, and market
socialism.

Two limitations should be noted at the outset. The article focuses on moral and political-
philosophical issues rather than purely economic ones, discussing the latter only briefly.
Second, little is said here about socialism’s rich and complicated history. The article
emphasizes the philosophical content of socialist ideas rather than their historical
development or political instantiation.
 Table of Contents
1. Socialism and Capitalism: Basic Institutional Contrasts
a. Ownership: Some Preliminaries
b. Private, State, and Social Ownership
c. Economic Systems as Hybrids
2. Socialism vs. Communism in Marxist Thought
3. Why Socialism? Economic Considerations
4. Why Socialism? Democracy
. Scope
a. Influence
5. Why Socialism? Exploitation
. Exploitation as Forced, Unpaid Labor
a. Eliminating Exploitation
6. Why Socialism? Freedom and Human Development
. Formal Freedom
a. Effective Freedom
7. Why Socialism? Community and Equality
. Why Produce? Communal vs. Market Reciprocity
a. Justice, Inequality, Community
8. Institutional Models of Socialism for the 21st Century
. Central Planning
a. Participatory Planning
i.Parecon: Basic Features
ii.Allocation in Parecon: Economic Coordination Through Councils
iii.Evaluating Parecon
b. Market Socialism
.Schweickart’s “Economic Democracy”
i.Evaluating Economic Democracy
9. References and Further Reading
1. Socialism and Capitalism: Basic Institutional
Contrasts
Considered as an economic system, socialism is best understood in contrast with
capitalism.

Capitalism designates an economic system with all of the following features:

1. The means of production are, for the most part, privately owned;
2. People own their labor power, and are legally free to sell it to (or withhold it from)
others;
3. Production is generally oriented towards profit rather than use: firms produce not in
the first instance to satisfy human needs, but rather to make money; and
4. Markets play a major role in allocating inputs to commodity production and
determining the amount and direction of investment.
An economic system is socialist only if it rejects feature 1, private ownership of the means
of production in favor of public or social ownership. But must an economic system reject
any of features 2-4 to count as socialist, or is rejection of private property sufficient as
well as necessary? Here, socialists disagree. Some, often called “market socialists”, hold
that socialism is compatible, in principle, with wage labor, profit-seeking firms, and
extensive use of markets to organize and coordinate production and investment. Others,
sometimes called “orthodox” or “classical” socialists, contend that an economic system
with these features is scarcely distinguishable from capitalism; true socialism, on this
view, requires not merely social ownership of the means of production but also planned
production for use, as opposed to “anarchic”, market-driven production for profit.

This section explores the core socialist commitment to social ownership of the means of
production. Other important aspects of socialism—for instance, its stance towards
markets and planning—are discussed in later sections (especially section 8).

a. Ownership: Some Preliminaries

Consider a society’s instruments of production, its land, buildings, factories, tools, and
machinery; consider also its raw materials, its oil and timber and minerals and so on.
Together, these instruments and these materials comprise society’s means of production.
To whom should these means of production belong: to society as a whole, or to private
individuals or groups of individuals? This is the central question dividing capitalists and
socialists, with capitalists advocating extensive rights of private ownership of the means of
production and socialists advocating extensive social or public ownership of these means.
Notice that the capitalist/socialist dispute does not concern the desirability of private
property in items unrelated to production. The issue between socialists and capitalists is
not whether individuals should be able to own “personal property” (for example,
toothbrushes, houses, clothing, and other articles of everyday use) but whether they
should be able to own “productive property” (for example, stores, factories, raw materials,
and other productive assets).

But what does it mean to own something? Standardly, to own something is to enjoy a
bundle of legally enforceable rights and powers over that thing. These rights and powers
typically include the right to use, to control, to transfer, to alter (at the limit, even to
destroy), and to generate income from the thing owned, as well as the right to exclude non-
owners from interacting with the owned thing in these ways. Because these rights admit
of gradations, so too does ownership, which is scalar—a matter of degree—rather than
dichotomous. In general, the wider one’s rights of use, control, and so on over an object,
the fewer restrictions one faces in exercising these various rights, and the wider one’s
ownership rights over that object. Ownership, notice, may be narrowed and restricted
without ceasing to be ownership. Limited ownership is not an oxymoron.
Another important distinction here is that between legal and effective ownership. These
can go together, as when a person owns her car both in law and in fact: she not only has
the title, but also possesses actual powers of use, control, and so on over the vehicle. But
so too can they come apart. “The means of production belong to all the people,”
proclaimed the Soviet Union’s constitution, but these were just words, for in reality
democratically unaccountable bureaucrats and party officials grasped all the important
economic levers. Something similar could be said of the relationship between
shareholders in large capitalist corporations, on the one hand, and management and
executives on the other: the former have “paper” ownership, but it is the latter that really
exercise control. In general, it is effective rather than merely legal or formal ownership
that is of interest in the present context. Capitalists and socialists alike want to realize
their preferred patterns of ownership not just on paper, but also in reality.
b. Private, State, and Social Ownership
To understand socialism, one must distinguish between three forms of ownership.
Under private ownership, individuals or groups of individuals (for example, corporations)
are the primary agents of ownership; it is they who enjoy the various rights of use, control,
transfer, income generation, and so on discussed above. Under state ownership, the state
retains for itself these rights, and is thus the primary agent of ownership. Both of these
forms of ownership should be familiar to anyone who has frequented a business or driven
on an interstate highway.
Much less familiar is the key socialist idea of social ownership. Social ownership of an
asset means that “the people have control over the disposition of that asset and its
product” (Roemer, A Future for Socialism 18). Social ownership of the means of production,
then, obtains to the degree that the people themselves have control over these means:
over their use and over the products that eventuate from that use. This is a conceptually
simple idea, but it can be difficult to grasp its practical implications. How, in concrete
terms, could social control over the means of production be realized?
Historically, socialists have struggled to answer this question, and for good reason: it is
not at all obvious how meaningful control over something as massive and complex as a
modern economy might be shared across tens or even hundreds of millions of people.
Broadly speaking, socialists have identified two main strategies of socialization. The first
seeks to socialize the economy by nationalizing it. The second seeks the same end by
radically decentralizing and democratizing economic power. These strategies will be
investigated in greater detail below (see section 8), but for now a few orienting remarks
are in order.
First, regarding nationalization: state ownership functions as a vehicle for socialization
only to the extent that the people are themselves in control of the state. Otherwise
nationalization amounts to little more than statism, not socialism; it constitutes economic
rule by state officials rather than by society as a whole. Any genuinely socialist program of
nationalization, then, must adhere to a two-part recipe: nationalize the economy, but also
democratize the state, thereby putting the people in control of the economy at one remove.
This second step has proven rather elusive in practice. It was not accomplished—indeed,
it was not even really attempted—by the so-called “socialist” authoritarianisms of the 20th
century such as the Soviet Union and China. And certainly considerable barriers to
genuine democratization exist even in countries with longstanding liberal democratic
traditions, such as the United States. These barriers include the awesome influence of
special interests and concentrated wealth on the political process, corporate domination
of political media, voter ignorance and apathy, and so on. Democracy—popular control
over the state—is, in short, an ideal easier praised than implemented, even under
favorable conditions. However, these considerable practical problems aside, there seems
to be nothing incoherent in principle with the idea of a genuinely socialist—because
genuinely democratic—program of nationalization.
Or is there? Many socialists argue that state ownership can never fully realize socialism’s
promise, no matter how democratic the relationship between the people and the state.
This is because real social ownership involves not only control-at-a-remove, so to speak,
but also active involvement and participation. On this conception, it is not enough for
democratically accountable politicians and bureaucrats to steer the economy in your
name; rather, you must do (or at least have the real opportunity to do) some of the steering
yourself. The core idea here is well expressed by Michael Harrington:
Socialization means the democratization of decision making in the everyday economy, of
micro as well as macro choices. It looks primarily but not exclusively to the decentralized,
face-to-face participation of the direct producers and their communities in determining
the matters that shape their social lives (197).

In a socialist society, average, everyday people must be active rather than passive,
empowered rather than subordinated, involved rather than excluded. But if this is what
genuine socialization requires, then socialism is

not a formula or a specific legal mode of ownership, but a principle of empowering people
at the base, which can animate a whole range of measures, some of which we do not yet
even imagine (Harrington, 197).

The point is not that nationalization can never play a role in making socialism real, but
that it cannot play the outsized role often assigned to it.
But if socialists should not rely exclusively on nationalization, to what else should they
appeal instead? Different socialists will answer this question in different ways, as we will
see in section 8. But most would recommend leavening democratically controlled state
ownership with sizable helpings of workplace democracy (as found, for instance, in the
Mondragon and La Lega cooperatives in Spain and Italy, respectively), social control over
investment, and various other measures to economically empower local communities and
individuals (for instance, the “participatory budgeting” process found in Porto Allegre,
Brazil, through which citizens meet in popular assemblies to decide how the city’s
resources should be spent). By knitting together nationalization of major industries with
these and other programs and initiatives, socialists hope to bring to fruition the “truly
audacious project of empowering people to take command of their everyday lives”
(Harrington, 197).

c. Economic Systems as Hybrids

In principle, an economy could be wholly capitalist, statist, or socialist. An economy would
be wholly capitalist just in case all its productive assets were privately controlled; wholly
statist, provided all such assets were state-controlled; and wholly socialist, provided all
such assets were socially-controlled. While these are coherent theoretical possibilities,
they have not been implemented in practice. In reality, all economies are hybrids that
blend together private, social, and state ownership. It is better, then, to think of
capitalism, statism, and socialism “not simply as all-or-nothing ideal types of economic
structures, but also as variables” (Wright, 124). According to this analysis, an economy
can be more or less capitalist, socialist, or statist, depending on the particular balance it
strikes between the three forms of ownership.
For example, even in the United States—widely seen as a bastion of capitalism—the state
plays a considerable role in controlling economic activity and in distributing the proceeds
thereof. Does this mean it is a statist or perhaps even a socialist economy? No. Economies
should be individuated with reference to their dominant mode of ownership. Since
capitalist ownership dominates the United States’ economy—most of its productive assets
being privately owned—it should be thought of as capitalist, albeit with some non-
capitalist aspects. Similarly, an economy within which most productive assets are socially
controlled should count as socialist, even if (as would almost certainly be the case) it also
included statist or capitalist elements.
2. Socialism vs. Communism in Marxist Thought
Although this article focuses on socialism rather than Marxism per se, there is an
important distinction within Marxist thought that warrants mention here. This is the
distinction between socialism and communism.
Both socialism and communism are forms of post-capitalism. Both feature social rather
than private ownership of the means of production. Both, within Marxist orthodoxy,
reject market production for profit in favor of planned production for use. But beyond
these important similarities lie significant differences. In the Critique of the Gotha
Progam, Marx’s fullest discussion of these matters, he divides post-capitalism into two
parts, a “lower phase” (later called “socialism” by followers of Marx) and a “higher phase”
(communism). The lower phase follows immediately on the heels of capitalism, and so
resembles it in certain ways. As Marx memorably puts this point, socialism is “in every
respect, economically, morally and intellectually still stamped with the birth marks of the
old society from whose womb it emerges” (Critique of the Gotha Program 614). These
capitalist “birth marks” include:
 Material scarcity. Like capitalism, socialism does not overcome scarcity. Under
socialism, the social surplus increases, but it is not yet sufficiently large to cover all
competing claims.
 The state. Socialism transforms the state but does not do away with it. What was a
“dictatorship of the bourgeoisie” under capitalism becomes a “dictatorship of the
proletariat” under socialism: a state controlled by and for the working class. (Since
workers make up the vast majority, this is less authoritarian than it sounds.) Workers
must seize the state and use it to implement, deepen, and secure the socialist
transformation of society. Only after this transformation is complete can the state
“wither away”, and the “government of people” be replaced by the “administration of
things”.
 The division of labor. Socialism, like capitalism, will feature occupational
specialization. Having developed under capitalist educational and cultural
institutions, most people were socialized to fit narrow, undemanding productive
roles. They are not, therefore, “all around individuals” capable of performing a wide
variety of complex productive tasks. Accordingly, socialism must feature a broadly
inegalitarian occupational structure. As under capitalism, there will be janitors and
engineers, nurses’ aides and surgeons, factory workers and planners.
 Finally, under socialism (many) people will retain certain capitalist attitudes about
production and distribution. For example, they expect compensation to vary with
 contribution. Since contributions will differ, so too will rewards, leading to unequal
standards of living. Turning from distribution to production, many socialist
producers will, like their capitalist predecessors, regard work as merely a “means to
life” rather than “life’s prime want”. They work, in short, to get paid, rather than to
develop and apply their capacities or to benefit their comrades.
So in all of these ways, the “lower phase” of post-capitalism resembles its capitalist
predecessor. Over time, however, these capitalist “birth marks” fade, all traces of
bourgeois attitudes and institutions vanish, and humanity finally achieves the “higher
phase” of post-capitalist society, full communism.

What would “full communism” be like? Marx never answered this question in detail—and
indeed, he disparaged as utopian those socialists who focused excessively on “drawing up
recipes for the kitchens of the future”—but from his brief remarks about communist
society certain broad outlines can be discerned. Perhaps his most famous description of
communism comes in the following passage from the Critique of the Gotha Program:
In a higher phase of communist society, after the enslaving subordination of the
individual to the division of labor, and therewith also the antithesis between mental and
physical labor, has vanished; after labor has become not only a means of life but also life’s
prime want; after the productive forces have also increased with the all-round
development of the individual, and all the springs of cooperative wealth flow more
abundantly—only then can the narrow horizon of bourgeois right be crossed in its entirety
and society inscribe on its banner: from each according to his ability, to each according to
his needs (615):

Unpacking this passage, we see that Marx makes all of the following claims about
communism:

 It has done away with the division of labor, especially that between mental and
physical labor;
 Attitudes towards work have changed (perhaps in part because work itself has
changed). Communist producers regard work as both instrumentally and
intrinsically valuable: they see work not merely as a means to life, but also as “life’s
prime want”;
 Human beings themselves have changed under communism, becoming “all-around”,
highly developed individuals (rather than the stunted, one-sided creatures that so
many of them were under capitalism and perhaps even under socialism);
 Material scarcity has been eliminated or at least greatly attenuated, as “the productive
forces have increased” and thus “all the springs of cooperative wealth flow more
abundantly”;
 As a result of all these changes, communist society is able to conform to the famous
principle: from each according to his ability, to each according to his needs—thus
severing the link (found in communism’s “lower phase”)
between contribution and reward.
Not only will communism (unlike socialism) do away with class, material scarcity, and
occupational specialization, it will also do away with the state. As noted above, the state
begins to wither away under socialism. But this process is not completed until the “higher
phase” of full communism, for it is only in that phase that lingering class antagonisms are
finally eradicated. With these antagonisms cleared away, the state has nothing to do—no
class conflict to manage, no further function to perform—and so, like a vestigial limb, it
gradually atrophies from disuse. Or, as Engels famously puts this point in Socialism:
Utopian and Scientific,
State interference in social relations becomes, in one domain after another, superfluous,
and then dies out of itself; the government of persons is replaced by the administration of
things, and by the conduct of processes of production. The state is not “abolished”. It
withers away (91).
In sum, within Marxist theory socialism and communism are very different indeed.
Although both eradicate private property and profits, only the latter also eliminates the
division of labor, the state, material scarcity, and perhaps even conflict itself. It is only
under communism that mankind completes its ascendance from the “kingdom of
necessity” into the “kingdom of freedom” (Engels 95).

3. Why Socialism? Economic Considerations

Is socialism worthy of allegiance, and if so, why?

The standard normative argument for socialism is comparative. Socialists typically single
out certain moral and political values, argue that these values are poorly served under
capitalism, and then support socialism by contending that these values would
fare better—not necessarily perfectly, but better—under socialism. Values drawn upon by
socialists vary, but usually include democracy, non-exploitation, freedom (both formal
and effective), community, and equality. Sections 4–7 discuss these values and their
alleged connections with socialism.
But before turning to these explicitly normative arguments, a word should be said about
the purely economic case for socialism. (Since this article’s focus is normative rather than
economic, this section will be brief.) Capitalism, many socialists hold, is wild and
wasteful, prone to great booms and tremendously destructive busts. The argument goes
like this: capitalist competition greatly augments society’s forces of production. Each
firm, merely to stay in business, must innovate. As a result, productivity soars. Ever more
output can be produced for ever fewer inputs, labor included. Abundance looms.
But this very abundance, paradoxically, is an economic problem. Gluts drive down prices
as supply overwhelms demand. Profits decline. Firms, forced to cut costs, sack workers
and slash wages. As unemployment and economic insecurity mount, demand plummets
still further: people simply don’t have much money to spend. With reduced demand
comes reduced opportunities for profits, hence, reduced production. What was a boom
has turned into a bust, and society faces the absurd spectacle of idle farms next to hungry
people; empty shoe factories beside shoeless workers; foreclosed houses alongside the
homeless.

Capitalism, then, makes possible universal abundance. But its central features—market
competition, the pursuit of profits, and private property—ensure that this possibility will
never be realized. In Marxist language, there is a deep “contradiction” between
capitalism’s “forces of production” and its “relations of production”, a contradiction that
nothing short of socialist revolution can solve. Society must overthrow capitalist
productive relations, replacing anarchic market production for profit with planned
production for use. Only then will humanity eliminate the ridiculous concatenation of vast
productive potential alongside vast unmet needs. Or so the socialist argument goes.

Socialists find further economic faults with capitalism. Capitalism misallocates resources
towards producing what is profitable rather than what is needed. True, what is needed can
sometime be profitable. But often the two categories come apart. Think, the socialist will
say, of the vast resources spent producing luxuries for the rich, while the needy go
without. Or consider the underproduction of critical, but unprofitable, antibiotics, even
as “lifestyle drugs” (like Propecia, for baldness) roll off the production line.
Capitalism is also inefficient in its use of human labor power. Capitalism functions best
when there exists a “reserve army of the unemployed,” in Marx’s phrase. The credible
threat of unemployment reduces workers’ salary demands and increases their work effort.
But unemployment means idle workers: able bodied people, willing to work, who cannot
find an outlet for their productivity. This is a waste, and it would not exist under socialism
(or so it is claimed.)

Further, capitalism allows an entire segment of the (able-bodied) population to live

without working: namely, the independently wealthy, who can simply live off investment
income. This, again, is wasteful; were these people recruited into the labor process, labor
time for the rest could decline. Finally, capitalism misdirects the labor of many of those
it does employ. Just think, the socialist will say, of the legions of lawyers, advertisers,
marketers, and financial workers. Such workers (and others beside) perform no real
productive function. Their jobs are necessary only within the framework of capitalism
itself. In a socialist economy, there is no need for marketing, financial speculation, or
lawyers specializing in mergers and acquisitions. Socialism would free people currently
doing these tasks to apply their talents in a more useful way. Marketers could become
teachers; financiers, farmers. And we would all be the better for it.
In sum, socialists seek to upend the common sense view of capitalism. Most people take
it for granted that whatever its normative flaws, at the very least capitalism ‘delivers the
goods,’ so to speak. Not so, replies the socialist. Because it is prone to economic crises,
and is wasteful and inefficient in its use of the means of production (including human
labor), capitalism’s economic bona fides must be questioned.
4. Why Socialism? Democracy
The article turns now to the normative case against capitalism and in favor of socialism,
starting with democracy.

Democracy means rule by the people, as opposed to rule by the rich, or rule by the
excellent, or, more generally, rule by any part of the people over the rest. Systems
plausibly claiming to be democratic can vary along at least three dimensions. They can
bring a broader or a narrower range of issues under democratic jurisdiction; their
members can be more or less directly involved in the exercise of political power; and they
can insist upon greater or lesser equality of influence (or perhaps opportunity for
influence) over political processes. Call these the scope, involvement,
and influence dimensions, respectively.
Other things being equal, as involvement, scope, and equality of influence increase, so too
does democracy. Thus it can make sense to say that one democratic system is “more
democratic” than another. So too, it is possible to compare different democratic ideals in
terms of their “democratic-ness”. A principle or ideal that insists upon maximal equality
of influence, for instance, is (other things equal) more democratic than a principle or ideal
that does not.
Socialists are radical democrats. They do not merely profess rule by the people; they also
interpret that ideal in a highly democratic way, opting for maximalist or near-maximalist
positions along all three of the just-mentioned dimensions. They want democracy to have
very broad scope; they want citizens to be highly involved in democratic processes; and
they want citizens to have roughly equal opportunities to influence these processes. And
they typically argue, further, that the democratic ideal, understood in this rich and
demanding way, militates against capitalism and in favor of socialism. This article will
focus on the scope and influence dimensions.
a. Scope
To see this argument, consider first the scope dimension of democracy, which concerns
the question: where should the boundary between public and private, between politics
and civil society, be drawn? Which issues should be subject to democratic choice? Many
socialists endorse something like the following principle:
All Affected Principle: People affected by a decision should enjoy a say over that decision,
proportional to the degree to which they are affected.
However, it is a rather short step—or so say socialists—from this intuitively plausible
principle to the radical conclusion that economics should be subordinated to democracy,
that large swathes of economic life should be politicized and brought under popular
control. All that is required to make that leap is the seemingly incontrovertible premise
that many economic issues affect the public. When a local business fires 20% of its workers,
this affects the public. When financiers withdraw support for a new shopping center, this
affects the public. When society’s productive assets are deployed to make yachts for
millionaires rather than affordable housing, this affects the public. When corporations
pull up roots and relocate production to greener pastures, this affects the public.
In all of these cases (and many others besides), people’s lives are affected—indeed, often
profoundly affected—by economic decisions. Do they get a say in these decisions, as
required by the All Affected Principle? Not under capitalism, which grants extensive
control over such matters to holders of private property rights. Where private property
reigns, owners rather than affected parties decide, for example, whether to hire or fire, to
invest, to relocate, and so on. From the socialist point of view, this is a serious offense
against democracy. Capitalism, socialists claim, depoliticizes what should remain
political; it cedes far too much control over common affairs to private parties. It is, in this
way, insufficiently democratic.
But if the root cause of this democratic deficit is private control over productive assets,
then the solution, or so socialists argue, must be social control over the same. Social
property brings into the democratic domain what private property improperly removes.
What touches all must be decided by all; economic matters touch all; therefore economic
matters must be decided by all. This is the simple but powerful democratic syllogism at
the heart of one major argument for socialism, for social rather than private control of the
economy. What might social control over the economy look like in practice? Section 8
explores competing answers to this question.

b. Influence
Socialists find further grounds for rejecting capitalism in
democracy’s influence dimension. Standardly, democracy is held to require not merely
that all citizens have a say, but that they have an equal say. But what does this really mean?
To clarify, suppose that A and B have equal voting rights, but A, being rich, educated, and
leisured, has a greater chance to influence the political process than B, who is poor,
uneducated, and short on free time (he must work long hours to make ends meet). Do A
and B have an “equal say”, in the sense required by democracy?
Nearly all socialists, and indeed, many non-socialists, would say “no”; they would detect
a democratic deficit in this scenario, for they typically see democracy as requiring not
merely formal equality of opportunity for political influence but
also substantive or fair equality of opportunity for political influence. On this view, it is not
enough for A and B to enjoy identical legal protections to vote, to run for office, to engage
in political speech, and so on. Instead, genuine democracy requires (over and above this
merely legal equality) that equally talented and motivated citizens have roughly equal
prospects for winning office and/or influencing policy, regardless of their economic and
social circumstances—or something along these lines.
Now, capitalism clearly can implement formal political equality. Many capitalist societies
grant their citizens equal rights to vote, to run for office, and so on. But can capitalism
implement substantive political equality?
Many socialists think not. Capitalism, they point out, generates steep economic
inequalities, dividing society into rich and poor. But in a variety of ways, the rich can
translate their economic advantages into political ones. This translation can occur
relatively directly, as when the rich buy political influence through campaign
contributions, or when they hire lobbyists to steer legislative priorities (sometimes going
so far as to draft laws themselves). Or it can occur relatively indirectly, as when the
wealthy use their ownership of media to shape public opinion (and thus the political
process), or when capitalists threaten to take their money out of the country in response
to disliked (usually leftist) policies, thereby limiting what government can do.
But whether moneyed interests affect politics directly or indirectly, the net result is the
same: capitalism amplifies the voices of the rich, enabling their concerns to dominate the
political process. Indeed, some socialists, pressing this objection to its logical conclusion,
contend that “democracy” under capitalism is really little more than oligarchy—rule by
the rich—covered by a democratic fig leaf. Or, as Vladimir Lenin put this point:
“Democracy for an insignificant minority, democracy for the rich—that is the democracy
of capitalist society” (79).

Sophisticated defenders of capitalism respond by arguing that capitalism’s democratic

deficits can be repaired within a fundamentally capitalist framework. Campaign finance
reform, regulation of lobbying, restrictions on corporate domination of media, even
limitations on the movement of capital across borders would, together, do much to restore
or preserve political equality amidst capitalist economic inequality, and yet none of them
are incompatible with capitalism per se. It follows (capitalists argue) that there is no need
to throw out the baby of capitalism with the bathwater of political inequality. Sufficiently
reformed, capitalism can indeed realize not just formal political equality but also
substantive political equality.
The question, socialists would reply, is whether these reforms would ever be chosen by
political elites under capitalism. Will capitalist oligarchs willingly undercut the very basis
of their rule by socializing control over mass media, installing real campaign finance
reform, limiting capital flows, and so on?

Would socialism perform any better than capitalism on this “influence” dimension of
democracy? Would it enable equally talented and motivated citizens to have roughly equal
prospects for influencing politics? Socialists argue that it would. Because it eliminates
class, socialism eliminates the major threat to substantive political equality. (Of course,
other forms of exclusion, such as racism and sexism, must also be overcome.) Wealthy
property owners will not dominate the political process at the expense of the poor and
unpropertied because the latter will be an empty set. Everyone will be a wealthy property
owner, in the sense that everyone will share control over the means of production and will
have access to a dignified standard of living. Everyone will therefore have roughly equal
economic resources to bring to bear on the political process.
Put differently, whereas capitalism attempts to secure political equality despite massive
economic inequalities, socialism attempts to secure political equality in large part
by eliminating these inequalities.
5. Why Socialism? Exploitation
According to many socialists, one of capitalism’s central moral failings is that it
is exploitative. Socialism, by contrast, would not be exploitative—or so these socialists
allege—and this is one of the main reasons for preferring it to capitalism.
But what is exploitation? Is capitalism truly exploitative? And would socialism really
eliminate exploitation? This subsection explores socialist answers to these questions.

a. Exploitation as Forced, Unpaid Labor

Although there is no universally accepted account of exploitation, Jeffrey Reiman’s Marx-
inspired suggestion that exploitation is “a kind of coercive prying loose of unpaid labor”
provides a good framework for discussion (3). On this account, a person is exploited if
and only if she is forced to work for free. Feudal serfs, for example, were exploited because
they were legally and physically compelled, at sword-point if necessary, to spend part of
their working time toiling in the lord’s fields for nothing in return. This was forced, unpaid
labor of the most obvious sort, and it constituted a serious form of exploitation.
But are capitalist employees exploited? At first glance, it would appear not. Workers get
paid wages, so it doesn’t seem as if they are working for free. Nor does it appear that
workers are forced to work. Capitalism, being a system of “free labor”, grants workers
ownership over their labor power and entitles them to sell it—or not—as they please. So
where is the force supposedly inherent in the capital/worker relationship?

Take the issue of force first. In general, a person is forced to do something X whenever she
has no reasonable alternative to doing X. Workers, then, are forced to sell their labor
power to capitalists just in case they have no reasonable alternative to doing so. But of
course they don’t have a reasonable alternative, or so some socialists contend. Their
argument is simple. Everyone must make a living. There are, under capitalist property
relations, only two main ways to do this: one can live off of investment or property income,
or one can live off of wages. By definition, workers cannot pick this first option; they don’t
own means of production, so they can’t live off of income generated by such ownership.
This leaves wage labor as the only acceptable option. True, workers are formally free to
decline capitalist employment, but this does not represent a reasonable option since its
consequences are so dire: starvation or, in more enlightened circumstances, life on the
dole. Workers therefore have no minimally reasonable choice but to sell their labor power
to owners of means of production.
It follows that workers are forced to work for capitalists, even if they are not so
forced by capitalists (or indeed, by anyone else). The forcing in question is structural
rather than agential; as Reiman explains, it is “an indirect force built into the very fact
that capitalists own the means of production and laborers do not.” Or, as Marx puts this
point, it is the “the dull compulsion of economic relations” rather than “direct force” that
“completes the subjection of the laborer to the capitalist” (Capital Vol. I, 737).
Not all socialists accept this argument. G.A. Cohen, for example, suggests that individual
workers do have a reasonable alternative to selling their labor power: they can become
capitalists themselves (“The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom”). Not overnight,
perhaps, but with enough scrimping and saving, is it not possible for an individual worker
to start a business of her own? Cohen concludes that individual workers are not forced to
sell their labor power. (He also argues that workers are “collectively unfree”—unfree as a
class—since not all, or even many, workers can escape their class at the same time; the
economy can absorb only so many small business owners at any given moment. But this
alleged collective unfreedom of workers, though interesting and important, is peripheral
to our present topic and so must be set aside.)
In response, some socialists question whether opening a small business really represents
a reasonable option for most workers. For one thing, many workers simply can’t save
enough to open such a business: their wages are just too small relative to the cost of living.
For another, even if a worker is able, through years of thrift, to open his own business,
most businesses fail, often leaving the owner much worse off financially than she would
have been had she simply remained a wage laborer. Pulling together these ideas, one critic
of Cohen concludes that “escaping into the petty bourgeoisie…is a reasonable alternative
only for a tiny minority of workers. Thus the vast majority of working-class
individuals are forced to sell their labor power to earn a living” (Peffer, 152).
But even if Cohen is wrong, and individual workers are forced to sell their labor power,
notice that it does not yet follow that workers are exploited. For forced labor alone does
not exploitation make. Exploitation, as described above, involves forced, unpaid labor. Let
us turn, then, to the issue of compensation, and in particular, to the question of whether
workers toil (at least in part) for free.
Again, surface appearances cut against the socialist position. Wage laborers standardly
receive an hourly wage. If they work, say, eight hours, they get eight hours’ pay. It certainly
seems, then, that workers receive full compensation for their toil. Perhaps this
compensation is unfairly low, but that is a different issue: the exploitation charge,
standardly construed, is that workers are forced to work for no pay, not that they are
forced to work for low pay.
But probe more deeply, some socialists contend, and the unpaid nature of much work
under capitalism becomes clear. To see their argument, it helps to start with an easier
case: feudal production. Under feudalism, serfs spent part of their working time working
in their own fields and the rest working in their lord’s fields. They kept whatever they
could grow on their own plots, and surrendered whatever they grew on the lord’s. Put
differently, serfs received compensation for part of their working time, but no
compensation at all for the rest of it. A great deal of their work, then, was wholly unpaid: a
fact that was very obvious to all involved, given the physical separation between paid work
(on the serf’s fields) and unpaid work (on the lord’s).
Marxists argue that precisely the same division between paid and unpaid work exists
under capitalism. Workers spend the first part of their working day working, in effect, for
themselves. This is the part of the day during which they produce the equivalent of their
wages. Marx calls this “necessary labor time”. But the working day does not stop there.
Indeed, it cannot stop there, for if it did, there would be no “surplus product” for the
capitalist to appropriate, and thus no reason for the capitalist to hire the worker in the
first place. So the capitalist requires the worker to perform “surplus labor”, which is just
labor beyond “necessary labor”: labor beyond what is required to produce value
equivalent to the worker’s wage. The value produced during surplus labor time, Marx calls
“surplus value”. Crucially, this surplus value belongs to the capitalist rather than the worker,
and is the source of all profits.
To illustrate, consider a worker who produces 1 widget per hour over the course of an
eight-hour shift, thus yielding eight widgets in total. Her boss takes these widgets, sells
them, and then returns part of the proceeds to the worker in the form of a wage. But this
wage must be less than what the capitalist reaped by selling the widgets. Otherwise the
capitalist would have nothing left over as profit. To fix ideas, suppose that the worker’s
daily wage is equivalent to the value of 2 widgets. To produce this value, she had to toil
for 2 hours (at 1 widget per hour). Yet her shift lasts 8 hours. It follows that she spent 2
hours working for herself, and 6 hours working for her boss: which is to say, 6 hours
working for free.
We can now appreciate Marx’s remark that “the secret of the self-expansion of capital
[that is, the secret of profit] resolves itself into having the disposal of a definite quantity
of other people’s unpaid labor” (Capital Vol. I, 534). Profits, on Marxist analysis, are
possible only through the extraction of unpaid surplus labor from workers. Wage workers
toil gratis no less than serfs. That the division between paid and unpaid labor under
capitalism is temporal rather than physical or spatial (as under serfdom) makes this
division harder to see, but it does not in any way diminish its reality—or so the socialist
argument goes.
b. Eliminating Exploitation
How exactly is socialism supposed to eliminate exploitation? Notice that it would not
eliminate work itself, as Marx writes, “Just as the savage must wrestle with Nature to
satisfy his wants, to maintain and reproduce life, so must civilized man, and he must do
so under all social formations and under all modes of production” (Capital Vol. III, Ch.
48). So even under socialism, work must be done.
However, it does not follow that people must be forced to do it. Society could eliminate the
compulsion to labor by partly decoupling income (or access to basic resources more
broadly) from work. Philippe van Parijs’s “unconditional basic income” represents one
way to achieve this decoupling. On his proposal, which has attracted significant support
from socialist quarters, each citizen, no matter how rich or how poor, would be paid a
monthly income, set as high as possible, and in any case sufficient to live with dignity.
This income would come without any strings attached. In particular, it would not be
conditional on working, seeking work, or training for future work. It would go to all
members of the political community: leisured surfers off of Malibu no less than
industrious steelworkers in Pittsburgh.
Perhaps the economic feasibility of such a proposal may be questioned. But for present
purposes, the important thing to appreciate is the way in which a UBI (as it is known)
gives each person the “real freedom” to drop out of the paid labor force, thereby
eliminating both the compulsion to work and (therefore) exploitation.

From a socialist perspective, there are at least two potential problems with this way of
eliminating exploitation.

First, a UBI enables people to live off the hard work of others—no reciprocation required.
Again, surfers get the check no less than people with paid employment. But socialists
complain when capitalists live off the work of others; shouldn’t they complain when
surfers (and so forth) behave similarly?
Second, there is nothing uniquely socialist about a UBI. Capitalist no less than socialist
societies can implement a UBI, thereby enabling everyone to live decently without
working. A defender of capitalism might therefore insist that when it comes to
exploitation, capitalism and socialism are on all fours: both are equally susceptible to
exploitation and equally able to enact the policies needed to eliminate it.
In response, socialists might point to the second necessary feature of exploitation, non-
compensation. Notice that compensation takes many forms. Acquiring exclusive control
over a sum of money, or over a bundle of resources, is one of them. But so too is acquiring
a share of control over resources. Say that you and I work to build a tree house which we
then jointly control. Neither of us has exclusive say over the tree house. And yet it would
be wrong to conclude that our labors have gone uncompensated. We have been
compensated; it’s just that our compensation comes in the form of common rather than
private property.
This is precisely the sense in which all labor is compensated under socialism. Workers
own the means of production together; they (therefore) own the surplus generated by
these means. True, they do not own this surplus privately. They share control over its
disposition and use. But shared control can be a form of compensation no less than private
control.

Under capitalism, workers have private ownership over their wages (and the things these
wages buy) but no ownership at all over most of what they produce. This is the sense in
which most of their laboring activity goes uncompensated. Workers produce a surplus,
hand it over to capitalists, and are then cut out of the picture; their bosses are free to do
with the surplus whatever they like: consume it, invest it, burn it, and so forth. Under
socialism, by contrast, workers have private ownership over their wages (or, in a money-
less economy, over resources for personal use) and collective ownership over the social
surplus they produce. They both make the surplus and share control over how to use this
surplus. At no point, then, are socialist producers toiling ‘for free’, since their labors go
towards building an economy that is shared and controlled by all. It’s as if everyone made
a gigantic tree house that everyone is then free to use and to help govern.
So, contrary to the capitalist objection raised 4 paragraphs back, it seems that
socialism is uniquely well positioned to eliminate exploitation. Both socialism and
capitalism could, in principle, eliminate forced labor by attenuating the link between
income and work. But only socialism can ensure that all work is compensated through
common ownership of the social surplus. Thus socialism expunges exploitation from
economic life even absent something like a UBI, whereas the same cannot be said of
capitalism.
Against this argument, critics might reply that the kind of ‘compensation’ for surplus
labor promised by socialism is wholly inadequate. Under capitalism, the worker’s surplus
is appropriated by the capitalist; under socialism, the worker’s surplus is appropriated by
society. From the worker’s point of view, this may seem a distinction without a difference.
Both appropriations rob the worker of effective control over the fruits of her labor. True,
under socialism the worker is a member of the group doing the appropriating, but, as
merely one of millions of such members, her individual influence over that group is
infinitesimal. Is it plausible to regard her tiny sliver of decision-making power over the
surplus as ‘compensation’ for her surplus labor? Arguably not, in which case socialism
does not actually eliminate exploitation.

6. Why Socialism? Freedom and Human

Development
Many socialists point to considerations of freedom, broadly understood, to support
socialism over capitalism.

Freedom comes in many varieties. This article will discuss two. Formal freedom involves
the absence of interference. Effective freedom involves the presence of capability. A person
who is unable to walk has the formal freedom to ascend a steep flight of steps—assuming
that no one will interfere with her attempt—but lacks the effective freedom to do so.
a. Formal Freedom
It is sometimes suggested that socialism fares poorly with respect to formal freedom.
There are two main grounds for this contention, one historical, the other conceptual.

Historically, many countries claiming to be socialist trampled basic liberties such as

freedom of expression and religion. They imprisoned and killed political dissidents and
other ‘enemies of the people’. Far from being free societies, they were deeply oppressive
ones.

Some critics of socialism suggest that this historical correlation between socialism and
oppression was no accident. Rather, it reflects a deep flaw in socialism’s design. Socialism
concentrates economic and political power in the hands of the state. Abuse is inevitable
under such conditions. Milton Friedman, building off of this insight, famously posited a
necessary connection between capitalism (which, unlike socialism, disperses economic
power rather than concentrating it) and freedom: not all capitalist societies are free, but
all durably free societies must be capitalist.

Socialists concede the heart of Friedman’s point, but argue that it does not undermine
their position. Friedman, they say, was right to warn against excessive centralization of
power. But he was wrong to suggest that socialism necessarily requires said
centralization. The contemporary socialist ideal is profoundly democratic and
decentralized; it seeks to disperse economic power, not concentrate it. It aspires to an
economy and a society controlled from the broad bottom, not the narrow top. So the kind
of socialism that contemporary socialists embrace is simply different than the kind of
‘socialism’ targeted by Friedman’s critique. Put differently, Friedman’s worry attacks a
view held by very few socialists today—or so it might be argued.
Turning to a different objection, it is sometimes suggested that on purely
conceptual grounds socialism is a more restrictive society than capitalism. The argument
for this claim is simple. Capitalism permits private ownership of productive assets;
socialism does not. Socialism therefore provides less formal freedom than capitalism. It
interferes with various economic activities that capitalism allows. Thus, if what you value
is formal freedom, then you should prefer capitalism to socialism.
The trouble with this argument, as pointed out by G.A. Cohen, is that it “see[s] the
freedom which is intrinsic to capitalism [but not] the unfreedom which necessarily
accompanies capitalist freedom” (“Capitalism, Freedom, and the Proletariat” 150).
Capitalism does indeed allow some things that socialism forbids: for example, opening a
business. But the converse is also true. To use Cohen’s example: I am free to pitch a tent
on common land. I am not free to pitch a tent on land that you own privately. Should I
try, the state will interfere, thereby reducing my formal freedom. Private property’s effects
on formal freedom, then, are not uniformly positive, but mixed. Private property extends
formal freedom to owners even as it withdraws it from non-owners. As Cohen writes, “To
think of capitalism as a realm of freedom is to overlook half its nature” (“Capitalism,
Freedom, and the Proletariat” 152)
Of course, precisely the same can and indeed must be said of socialism. All systems of
property, whether capitalist or socialist, exert complex effects on formal freedom; all such
systems necessarily distribute both freedom and unfreedom. But in light of this
complexity, our guiding question here—which system, capitalism or socialism, provides
more formal freedom?—is probably unanswerable. All we can say with confidence is that
these systems provide differently shaped zones of formal freedom; each extends formal
freedom in some ways while restricting it in others. However, it seems extremely difficult,
perhaps impossible, to determine which of these zones is ‘larger’ overall. At the very least,
defenders of capitalism must say a great deal more to establish that capitalism is, a priori,
a freer society than socialism.
Socialists score this particular fight a draw.

b. Effective Freedom
Whereas socialists tend to play defense regarding formal freedom, they go on offense
when discussing effective freedom.
Effective freedom, again, involves the capacity to accomplish one’s ends. This implies but
goes beyond formal freedom. Say that my goal is to complete a marathon. One way I can
fail to accomplish this goal is by meeting with agential interference. If you physically
restrain me from participating in the race, you undermine my effective freedom by
undermining my formal freedom. However, effective freedom usually requires much more
than the mere absence of interference. I can actually complete a marathon, for example,
only if a host of further conditions are in place. Some are broadly social: I must live in a
society in which marathons occur. Others are broadly economic: I must be able to afford
all the costs associated with training for the race, traveling to the race, entering the race,
and so forth. And there are physical or “internal” factors as well. I can’t finish the
marathon unless I have sufficient mobility and endurance. All of which is to say that
effective freedom depends upon a wide range of factors, many of which have nothing to
do with human interference per se.
Now, in a good and just society, which effective freedoms—which “capabilities,” as they
are sometimes called—would people have? The typical socialist response runs as follows.
At a minimum, everyone must have the effective freedom to meet their basic needs for
food, shelter, health care, and so on. With these capabilities in place, people are able to
survive. This is a crucial accomplishment, and one demanded by minimal standards of
justice and decency. However, a truly good society must set its sights higher; it must
enable people not merely to survive, but also to flourish.

And what is human flourishing? Socialists standardly accept a broadly

Marxist/Aristotelian account according to which the good life centrally involves not just
the passive pleasures of consumption (watching TV, eating tasty food, and so on) but also
the more active and enduring satisfactions of “self-realization”, which can be defined as
the “development and application of a person’s talents in a way that gives meaning to his
or her life” (Roemer, A Future for Socialism 3). Mastering an instrument, playing a sport,
solving a physics problem, writing an article, building a shed: these are all examples of
potentially self-realizing activities.
Such activities typically have a steep “learning curve” that makes them frustrating at first,
but deeply gratifying over the long haul. In this, they contrast sharply with consumption
activities, which have the opposite hedonic profile: watching TV is immediately gratifying,
but its charms wane with repetition. This contrast is one reason why self-realization is
(according to many socialists) more important to human flourishing than consumption.
A life replete with consumption but lacking in self-realization becomes stale, cramped,
unsatisfying. Indeed, at the limit, it veers towards meaninglessness. It is only through the
development and exercise of one’s higher powers and talents that one leads a truly human
existence—or so the socialist view has it.

So a genuinely good and just society, then, is one in which “the free development of each
is the condition of the free development of all,” as Marx and Engels declare in the
Communist Manifesto: it is one in which each person has real access to the material,
social, and political preconditions for human development and self-realization. But how,
precisely, does any of this amount to an argument for socialism? The answer is that
socialists typically see capitalism as a serious barrier to self-realization, a barrier that
nothing short of socialism can remove. As Jon Elster puts it, capitalism “offers [the
opportunity for self-realization] to a few but denies it to the vast majority” (Introduction
to Karl Marx 43). Socialism, by contrast, would democratize self-realization, putting it
within reach of average, everyday people for the first time in human history—or so it is
claimed.
To fill in these claims, consider the material and social preconditions for self-realization.
To develop and apply one’s talents in a way that gives meaning to life, one must, at a
minimum, have one’s basic needs met. People who are sick, hungry, or homeless are
simply not in a good position to develop and exercise their higher talents. However, since
capitalism reliably leads to poverty via frequent busts, structural unemployment,
downward pressure on wages, and so on—or so socialists will claim—it therefore reliably
depresses access to self-realization for a significant portion of the population. Socialism,
by contrast, would eliminate poverty and thus would eliminate this potent material
barrier to self-realization.

Suppose, however, that basic needs are met: what else is required for self-realization?
Time. Now, under capitalism, most people are forced, through lack of private property, to
perform wage-labor for a living (see section 5.a). Their days are thus divided into two
parts: working time and leisure time. But time spent in a capitalist workplace is, for the
vast majority of people, hardly time for self-realization. Capitalist jobs are oriented
around the demands of profit, not self-realization. And quite often, the most profitable
way to organize work is to “deskill” it: to make it simple, routine, even stultifying
(Braverman).

Granted, there are exceptions. Some workers, such as doctors, engineers, college
professors, carpenters, have challenging, complex, autonomous, engaging jobs that help
bring self-realization and meaning to their lives. But these are the lucky few. More typical
is the experience of, say, assemblers, fast food workers, cashiers, poultry-plant operators,
secretaries, human resource clerks, and so on and so forth. Saddled with “alienating” jobs
like these, workers work merely to live; as Marx writes, they “feel themselves at home only
when they are not working, and when they are working they do not feel at home”
(Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts). This is not to demean the people occupying these
roles, nor is it necessarily to deny the social importance of these jobs. Rather, it is only to
point out that these jobs offer little opportunity to develop and exercise complex talents
in a way that brings meaning to life. If capitalism’s armies of cashiers, clerks, and so on
are to experience self-realization, then, it will have to be off the clock, during their free
time.
Yet here we hit upon a further capitalist barrier to self-realization: its unwillingness to
expand what Marx called the “realm of freedom,” leisure, by shrinking the “realm of
necessity,” work. Despite ever-rising productivity—more output per unit of labor input—
working time rarely declines under capitalism. This is, on its face, rather puzzling. After
all, there are, in principle, two ways an enterprise could respond to an increase in
productivity. It could keep working hours constant while increasing output, or it could
keep output constant while cutting working time. Yet capitalist firms consistently choose
the first option over the second; they choose to produce more stuff rather than reduce the
working day.
What explains this “output bias”? Profits (Cohen, Karl Marx’s Theory of History Ch. XI).
Firms do not make more money by reducing working time; they make more money by
increasing output. And so we get, under capitalism, a society chronically short on leisure
but drowning in consumer goods; we get the familiar harried rat race, albeit with iPhones.
Now, this mountain of stuff must be sold. This requires spending enormous resources on
the “sales effort”—marketing, advertising, and so on—so as to stimulate demand. The
result is a highly consumerist society in which many people identify the good life with the
life of consumption rather than self-realization. This widespread consumerism may be
further promoted by a “sour grapes effect”. Denied self-realization by the alienating
nature of work and insufficient free time, the capitalist worker decides self-realization
isn’t worth having to begin with. Like the fox in Aesop’s fable, he rejects the tasty fruit he
cannot have (self-realization) for the blander fruit within reach (consumption).

In sum, for a variety of interconnected reasons, having to do with its tendency to produce
poverty, deskill work, provide inadequate free time, and promote a consumerist
orientation, capitalism undermines self-realization and therefore human flourishing.
Not, admittedly, for all. But for the vast majority, capitalism renders a rich and
meaningful life difficult if not impossible to achieve. Or so the socialist argument goes.

How would things differ in a socialist economy? We have already seen that socialism, by
(allegedly) eliminating poverty, would eliminate that particular material barrier to self-
realization. Regarding work and leisure, socialists argue that because their system places
human beings rather than anarchic market forces in control of the economy, it empowers
us to prioritize self-realization and expanded leisure in the design and organization of
work. Since we control production, we can tailor it to suit our preferences. If we want
better, non-alienating work and more free time, we can get it. Admittedly, this would
probably result in lower output. With reduced hours and more engaging labor processes,
less stuff would be produced. But from the socialist point of view, this is no great tragedy.
Past a certain point, more stuff contributes very little to human flourishing. Once a decent
standard of living has been secured, self-realization hinges mainly on access to
meaningful work and adequate free time. If the price of securing these things is less stuff,
so be it. Fewer iPhones in exchange for more meaningful jobs and no rat race: this is a
tradeoff that socialists heartily recommend.

7. Why Socialism? Community and Equality

Capitalism is competitive and cut-throat; socialism is cooperative and harmonious.
Capitalism divides; socialism unites, or so many socialists have argued. The crucial value
in play in these arguments is “community”.

The concept of “community” admits of at least two different interpretations. The first
concerns producers’ motivations: what drives people to wake up each day and go to work?
Is it fear and greed, or a desire to serve one’s fellows? The latter is the motivation
consistent with community, yet it is relentlessly undermined by capitalism (or so
socialists claim). The second sense of community concerns limitations on material
inequality. When inequalities in living conditions grow too steep, mutual
incomprehension results. People dwell in different worlds. This undermines community
(in this second sense), or so it may be argued. These two senses of community, and their
fates under capitalism and socialism, will be explored more deeply in what follows.

a. Why Produce? Communal vs. Market Reciprocity

As Adam Smith observed, under capitalism “it is not from the benevolence of the butcher,
the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own
interest” (Book 1, Ch 2). The baker hands over a loaf only because you pay him. Remove
the payment, and he removes the bread. So it goes in a market society, for as G.A. Cohen
argues, in such a society productive activity is motivated “not on the basis of commitment
to one’s fellow human beings and a desire to serve them while being served by them, but
on the basis of cash reward” (Why Not Socialism? 39). Market participants operate on the
maxim “serve-to-be-served”; they serve only in order to receive service in return. They
strive to give as little as possible while getting as much as they can—“buy low and sell
high,” as the saying goes. Indeed, the best-case scenario (by market logic’s lights) is to
give nothing and get everything.
Market logic thus locks us into deeply anti-social relations. The marketeer, looking at
humanity, sees not comrades or brothers and sisters, but customers and competitors.
Predator-like, he sees mere “sources of enrichment” and “threats to success”. The former
are to be fleeced, the latter crushed. Yet these are horrible ways to relate to other people.
Market society may deliver the goods, but it does so only by bringing out some of the worst
aspects of human nature. Or so some socialists argue.

But is there an alternative? Cohen asks us to consider how people behave on a camping
trip. If A needs help setting up her tent, does B use her need strategically as a means to
self-enrichment? Does he ‘drive a hard bargain’, making his support contingent on
receiving something in return? No; that’s not how decent people behave in such a context.
Rather, in the standard case, B helps A simply because A needs help. Service in response to
need: this is what motivates productive activity on a camping trip.
Now, this is not to say that B’s assistance comes entirely without strings attached. B
needn’t be a sucker, so to speak; he needn’t continue to help A if A consistently fails to
return the favor. On a camping trip, one reasonably expects some degree of reciprocity.
Campers thus occupy a sweet spot between anti-social market predation on the one hand
and self-denying altruism on the other. Cohen labels this sweet spot “communal
reciprocity,” and describes its content as “serve-and-be-served”. Campers acting on this
motivation value both sides of the conjunction. They regard it as intrinsically desirable to
serve each other, yet they also do expect some degree of reciprocation. As Cohen explains,
“the relationship between us under communal reciprocity is not the market-instrumental
one in which I give because I get, but the non-instrumental one in which I give because
you need, or want, and in which I expect a comparable generosity from you” (Why Not
Socialism? 43).Cohen recognizes an important caveat here: the responsibility to
reciprocate is conditional upon ability. Thus, there’s no problem with disabled people
receiving support without making a contribution in return.
Such behavior is entirely normal and functional on a camping trip. Communal reciprocity
clearly “works” in such a context. But can it work on a massive, society-wide scale? Can
millions or billions of strangers serve each other, with tolerable economic results, out of
fraternity and benevolence rather than greed and fear?

Skeptics cite two main grounds for doubt. The first is human nature: surely people are
simply too selfish, greedy and tribal for communal reciprocity to work on a massive scale.
Treating your actual brothers as brothers is one thing; treating total strangers as brothers
is quite another.
Socialists reply that human nature is complex. We are indeed greedy and competitive, but
so too are we generous and cooperative. Economic context powerfully influences which of
these traits predominate. Edward Bellamy, an influential 19th century American socialist
novelist and thinker, compares human nature to a rosebush (Ch. 26). Put a rosebush in a
swamp, and it will appear sickly and ugly. One might conclude that rosebushes are, by
‘nature’, noxious little shrubs. But this would be a mistake. We know that rosebushes are
capable of great beauty, given the right developmental conditions. Yet surely, argues
Bellamy, the same goes for human beings. Shaped by capitalism, people appear greedy,
cramped, and fearful. But this is only because we’re mired in a metaphorical swamp. Put
us in the more hospitable soil of socialism and we, like the rosebush, would blossom; we
would display all the fellow-feeling, generosity, and cooperative instincts socialism
requires.

Human nature, in short, poses no serious obstacle to socialism. ‘Socialist man’ dwells
within all of us, waiting only for the right social conditions to emerge.

But these social conditions simply cannot emerge, for they are infeasible: this is the
second skeptical objection. Without markets, economies simply do not function tolerably
well—witness the failure of Soviet-style planning. In response, Cohen argues that this is
just one data point. It would be overly hasty to write off all non-market alternatives simply
on the basis of one failed experiment. He admits that socialists face a “design” problem.
They do not now know how to power an economy on generosity and fraternity rather than
greed or fear. But design problems often turn out to be solvable with enough ingenuity
and attention. Non-market socialists do not currently have the answers. But in the
fullness of time, they might—or so Cohen argues.
Before turning to a different community-based critique of capitalism, a powerful
challenge to Cohen’s argument should be noted. Jason Brennan points out that socialism
cannot lay claim to communal reciprocity by definitional fiat. Socialism is just communal
ownership of the means of production. Whether this particular way of structuring
property fosters communal reciprocity, leading to a generosity and a “serve-and-be-
served” mentality on a wide scale, is an entirely empirical question that cannot be answered
from the ‘philosopher’s armchair,’ as it were. Yet when we turn to the empirical record,
we find little support for Cohen’s position.
If Cohen were right, then we should expect to see an inverse relationship between markets
and various pro-social attitudes and behaviors. We should expect to see greater levels of
greed, mistrust, and so on as markets expand and deepen. The most marketized societies
should also be the most anti-social. But this is not at all what we find. In fact, we find
precisely the opposite. Studies cited by Brennan suggest that market
exchange promotes various pro-social attitudes such as trust, fairness, and reciprocity.
Brennan concludes that Cohen has it backwards: if we wish to spread camping trip values
across society, we should embrace markets, not reject them.
Notice that Brennan’s critique (if sound) damages only non-market varieties of socialism.
It does not undermine (and indeed actually provides some support for) market versions
of the same. (Market socialism is discussed further in 8.c.)
b. Justice, Inequality, Community
This article has not said very much about equality as a socialist ideal. This may surprise
some readers. Isn’t equality of condition one of socialism’s central aims? Indeed,
socialism’s allegedly uncompromising egalitarianism is sometimes used as the basis for
a reductio ad absurdum of the socialist position. The reductio runs like this: according to
socialism everyone must be equal; one way to do this is to ‘level down’ the better off; but
this is morally repugnant; so socialism must be rejected. One thinks here of Kurt
Vonnegut’s famous anti-egalitarian tale “Harrison Bergeron”, in which an equality-
obsessed government knocks the noggins of the more intelligent, bringing them into
alignment with their IQ-disadvantaged peers.
The reductio fails because socialists do not advocate equality of condition, at least not in
any straightforward sense. Much light has been shed on this issue by the now-voluminous
philosophical literature on egalitarianism. Of particular import is the work by
philosophers like Richard Arneson and G.A. Cohen on the question: “equality of what”?
Insofar as leftists seek equality, what is it that they wish to equalize? Standard options
include 1) resources, 2) welfare, 3) opportunities for resources, and 4) opportunities for
welfare.
Most philosophers agree that the first two options are non-starters.
Equalizing outcomes (as 1 and 2 would do) improperly ignores personal choice and
responsibility. The point is nicely illustrated by Aesop’s fable of the grasshopper and the
ant. Stipulate that both bugs know that winter is coming, and that both have the
capability, that is, the effective freedom, to build a house and to gather adequate supplies.
That is to say, both have equal opportunity to provision themselves. Yet only industrious
ant chooses to use this opportunity; carefree grasshopper decides to dance and play
instead. Fast forward to winter: there sits ant in his house, warm and well-fed, while
grasshopper shivers hungrily outside. Now, no matter which metric we use—resources or
welfare—ant is clearly much better off than grasshopper. Between the two bugs, a very
significant inequality of condition obtains. But does this inequality constitute an injustice?
Interestingly, many socialists would answer ‘no’ to this question. These socialists hold a
“responsibility-sensitive” form of egalitarianism sometimes called “luck egalitarianism”.
On this view, outcome inequalities (whether measured in resources, welfare, or some
other metric) are just if and only if they “reflect the genuine choices of parties who are
initially equally placed and who may therefore reasonably be held responsible for the
consequences of those choices” (Cohen, Why Not Socialism? 26). By luck egalitarian lights,
then, the grasshopper/ant inequality is perfectly just since it reflects divergent choices
rather than differences in unchosen circumstances. (Circumstantially, the bugs were
identically placed. Both could have prepared for winter. But only ant chose to do so.)
Notice that the luck egalitarian would reach a different verdict if grasshopper and ant
were unequal because (say) grasshopper was born without legs, and thus couldn’t
provision himself. Then it would be unjust for him to go without food or shelter. For that
outcome would reflect factors beyond his control, namely, his unchosen disability, in
violation of the luck egalitarian standard.
In sum, contemporary socialist “luck egalitarians” have a nuanced view on equality and
justice. Opportunities (for resources, welfare, or whatever) must be equal.
But outcomes may be unequal provided that these inequalities are due to choices rather
than circumstances. In a socialist society, then, grasshopper’s shivering does not
necessarily signal injustice.
It might, however, signal a different moral defect: namely, a breech of community or
compassion. Socialists aspire to a social world within which people care about and (when
necessary) care for one another. Dramatically different living conditions put this regime
of mutual comprehension, concern, and caring in jeopardy. Condemned to the wintry
cold, grasshopper would face trials beyond ant’s understanding. The two bugs would
come to dwell in different worlds. Whatever fellow-feeling or mutual concern previously
marked their relations would vanish, leaving only a gulf of indifference and estrangement.
This is no way for socialist comrades to live: not because it would be unjust (by hypothesis,
it would not) but because it would be insufficiently fraternal and compassionate. Cohen
concludes that “certain inequalities that cannot be forbidden in the name of [justice]
should nevertheless be forbidden, in the name of community” (Why Not Socialism? 37). On
this line, it would be just, but not justified, for ant to bar his door.
Are we back to the Harrison Bergeron reductio, then? Does socialism implausibly require
absolute equality of condition after all? No, for two reasons.
First, not all inequalities undermine community. Perhaps ant must, in the name of
community, provide grasshopper with some of his food and shelter. But does community
require him to split his possessions down the middle? Surely not. The point is that while
extreme inequalities may place community under strain, more modest ones might not.
Second, Cohen declares, without much argument, that the demands of community trump
those of justice. But this ranking may be contested. Why shouldn’t justice trump
community, at least occasionally? Perhaps just inequalities should sometimes be allowed
to stand even if they undermine community.

8. Institutional Models of Socialism for the 21st

Century
What, in practice, would a socialist society actually look like? What concrete institutions
and policies—political, economic, and social—would it use to organize, motivate, and
direct economic activity? It is difficult to assess the desirability of socialism without
answering these questions. The normative case for socialism depends, at least in part, on
the attractiveness and feasibility of its institutional vision. More prosaically: even if one
is convinced of the abstract philosophical arguments canvassed in section 4, one still has
to know what socialism would really be like in order to tell whether one wants it.
This section discusses three broad institutional models of socialism for the 21st century:
central planning, participatory/democratic planning, and market socialism. All three
models, being socialist, reject private ownership of the means of production in favor of
social ownership. But beyond this important point of commonality, many significant
differences emerge, especially concerning a) whether planning should be centralized or
decentralized, and b) the appropriate role of markets in a socialist economy.
a. Central Planning
Throughout the 20th century, the standard socialist answer to the question “if not
capitalism, then what?” was centrally-planned socialism.
Under central planning, “production is organized and coordinated within an
administrative hierarchy, with decisions being made at the center and passed down
through intermediate levels of the hierarchy to the production units” (Devine 55). Political
authorities at the top of this hierarchy decide on broad economic objectives—build up
heavy industry, satisfy consumer preferences, develop a backward region, and so on.
Central planners then generate a concrete plan to achieve these objectives. To this end,
they first gather a massive amount of information. Tens of thousands of enterprises
inform planners of their productive capabilities and input requirements; millions of
consumers communicate their consumption preferences. With this information in hand,
planners, through a complex, multi-stage, “iterative” process, arrive at an overall plan for
the economy that sets specific production targets for each enterprise. (Factory A, produce
X shoes; factory B, produce Y amount of steel, and so on.) The center sends these orders
to enterprise managers, who then devise more specific labor processes through which
their workers produce the ordered goods in the right way at the right time. To the extent
that the overall plan is fulfilled, sufficient resources are produced to meet whatever broad
objectives political authorities have chosen, and the economy ‘works’.

What is to be said in favor of central planning? In theory, quite a bit. Central planning
replaces capitalism’s anarchic market production for profit with planned production for use.
It therefore promises to eliminate all those problems that socialists associate with private
property, markets, and the pursuit of profits—problems like economic instability and
poverty, class conflict and exploitation, various barriers to “real freedom” and self-
realization, such as alienating labor and inadequate free time, lack of community and
solidarity, and unjust economic inequalities. Freed of these capitalist pathologies, a
centrally planned society would be classless, prosperous, and harmonious; it would be a
society in which “the free development of each is the condition of the free development of
all” (Marx and Engels Ch. 2).
Or so the story goes. However, critics allege that in practice central planning performs
poorly. There are two problems worth pulling apart here.

The first is economic. Although centrally planned economies eliminate the worst forms of
poverty, they do not produce generalized affluence. Under central planning, innovation is
sluggish. Product quality is low. Shortages and hoarding are common. Work effort is
lacking. These defects stem from underlying information, calculation, and incentive
problems. Central planners, critics argue, cannot know what people want, or what
producers are able to produce, with sufficient accuracy; nor, even if they could, would they
be able to use this massive quantity of information to calculate a coherent overall plan;
nor, even if they could calculate such a plan, would they be able to incentivize managers
and workers to follow it faithfully.

The second problem with central planning is normative. Central planning, critics say,
does not lead to an egalitarian, classless utopia, but to an authoritarian, undemocratic
society dominated by a “coordinator class” of political elites, planners, and enterprise
managers. Indeed, the basic logic of the system guarantees that central planning is a “road
to serfdom” (in Hayek’s famous phrase) rather than a route to democratic empowerment.
As one critic explains, “Central planners gather information, calculate a plan, and issue
‘marching orders’ to production units. The relationship between the central agency and
the production units is authoritative rather than democratic, and exclusive rather than
participatory” (Albert 52). Information flows up the hierarchy; orders flow down. Central
planners decide; everyone else obeys. This seems rather far from the “radical
empowerment” envisioned by many socialists.

Indeed, central planning’s economic and normative failings are related; the latter
compound the former. It is partly because central planning alienates and disempowers
workers that it performs so poorly qua economic system. Workers, so treated, expend
little effort at work, ignore orders, under-report their productive capabilities, over-report
their output, and so on.
Persuaded by these objections, most socialists today reject central planning, holding that
it simply doesn’t work sufficiently well and that it comes at too steep a cost to democratic
empowerment and freedom. But if they reject central planning, what do they propose to
put in its place? There would seem to be only two options: either socialists rehabilitate
planning by decentralizing and democratizing it, or they make peace with the market. The
first route leads to some form of “participatory planning”; the second, to “market
socialism”. The next two subsections explore these models in greater detail.

b. Participatory Planning
Perhaps the problem with central planning has to do with centralization rather
than planning: this is the core thought behind “participatory” or “democratic” planning.
Advocates of this approach include Pat Devine, Michael Albert, and Robin Hahnel.
Because Albert and Hahnel’s model, called “participatory economics,” or “parecon” for
short, is especially well developed, this article shall take it as representative of the broader
participatory planning approach.
i. Parecon: Basic Features
Parecon rests on five main institutional proposals:

1. Social ownership of the means of production

2. Democratic workplaces
3. Balanced “job complexes”
4. Remuneration according to effort, sacrifice, and need
5. Economic coordination based on comprehensive participatory planning, using a
complex system of nested “worker” and “consumer” councils
We may move quickly through the first and fourth of these proposals. Social ownership
means simply that nobody in particular owns the means of production; rather, “we all
own [them] equally, so that ownership has no bearing on the distribution of income,
wealth or power” (Albert 9). What does bear on the distribution of income in a parecon is
effort and sacrifice (112-117). The underlying rationale here is luck egalitarian (see 7.b).
People, Albert and Hahnel argue, should be rewarded or penalized only for those things
under their control. But the only thing that people control is their level of effort and
sacrifice. Therefore, they should be rewarded and penalized only for their level of effort
and sacrifice. Those who work harder or longer should enjoy greater consumption
opportunities than those who work less hard and/or less long. There is an exception here:
people who are unable to work will be provided with an average income.
Proposals 2, 3, and 5 require more extensive discussion.

Democratic workplaces. Parecon takes as one of its core values the idea of “democratic self-
management,” which implies that “each actor in the economy should influence economic
outcomes in proportion to how those outcomes affect him or her”. In other words, “Our
say in decisions should reflect how much they affect us” (Albert 40). This norm implies
that decisions affecting only a given individual should be left entirely to that individual.
But other decisions have broader consequences, and are therefore appropriate objects of
democratic choice. Many workplace decisions fall into this “other-affecting” category.
Albert and Hahnel propose a complex system of nested “councils” for handling such
decisions. Some workplace decisions will be entirely up to individual workers; others,
assigned to work-teams; still others, to the enterprise as a whole. Indeed, since some
workplace decisions affect people beyond the workplace’s four walls, such as consumers,
some method for granting an appropriate degree of influence to these affected external
actors must be found. Albert and Hahnel propose democratic “consumer councils” and
“industry councils”. More will be said about this system of democratic council
coordination below.
Balanced job complexes. Parecon proposes to radically remake the division of labor by
creating “balanced job complexes” in which “the combination of tasks and responsibilities
each worker has would accord them the same empowerment and quality of life benefits
as the combination every other worker has” (Albert 10). This is, of course, very far from
how occupations are structured currently. Under capitalism, considerations of profit and
class power largely determine the way in which different productive tasks are bundled
into jobs. The result is a division of labor that assigns routine, boring, disempowering (but
profitable) work to the many, while reserving varied, complex, empowering work for the
privileged few.
Parecon rejects this inequitable division. It does so on grounds of fairness: why should
interesting and enjoyable work be hoarded by some rather than shared by all? It also
objects on democratic grounds: unequal division of empowering work “inexorably
destroys participatory potentials and creates class differences” (Albert 104). Any
workplace with, say, janitors and managers will be a de facto hierarchy, even if it is, on
paper, democratically organized. In the name of fairness and democracy, then, we must
transform the division of labor so that “every individual [will] be regularly involved in
both conception and execution tasks, with comparable empowerment and quality of life
circumstances for all” (Albert 111).
ii. Allocation in Parecon: Economic Coordination Through
Councils
This brings us to feature 5: economic coordination through councils. Every economy must
decide what gets produced and consumed, and in what quantities. This is the problem of
allocation. Market systems solve this problem through decentralized, voluntary, self-
interested competition and exchange between buyers and sellers. Recall Adam Smith’s
baker, who makes bread not because someone tells him to, but because by making bread,
he can make money through trade. Centrally-planned economies solve the allocative
problem by handing it over to a small group of economic elites, who craft a comprehensive
plan for the entire economy and issue binding instructions for realizing it. Moscow
decides that X amount of shoes will be produced, Y amount of steel, and so on, and
enforces these demands on lower levels in the economic hierarchy.
Parecon rejects both approaches. In place of markets and central planning, it proposes a
system of nested worker and consumer councils, through which individuals cooperatively
generate an overall plan for production and consumption. Albert and Hahnel call this
system “decentralized participatory planning.”

Simplifying greatly, its basic gist is this. To figure out what people want to consume, we
ask them. To figure out what they are willing to produce, we ask them. We then aggregate
all these responses and compare proposed supply with proposed demand. If they don’t
match, we close the gap through democratic negotiation conducted on a footing of
equality. Through such negotiation, we eventually reach, say, five feasible plans. We put
them to a vote and implement the winner. Decentralized participatory planning thus
promises to solve the allocative problem without hierarchy or markets.

The system features several key participants: first, worker councils (and federations
thereof—for example, a “software industry council,” a “farming council,” and so forth.);
second, consumer councils (and federations thereof—for example, neighborhood
councils, city-level councils, state-level councils, and so on); and third, the “iteration
facilitation board,” or IFB. The IFB initiates the planning process by announcing
provisional prices for all inputs and outputs. Importantly, these prices should reflect the
“full social costs and benefits” associated with these inputs and outputs, including
opportunity costs and externalities, whether positive or negative. Albert and Hahnel see
this as a key difference with market systems. In a parecon, prices will accurately track the
true social costs of production. Prices rarely do this in market societies. Think, for
instance, of the absurdly low price of gasoline in the United States, despite the ecological
and economic costs of its widespread production and use.

With these provisional prices in hand, each economic actor—individuals and councils and
federations of councils—proposes both a) a consumption plan and b) a production plan.
The former specifies what the actor would like to consume during the period being
planned (the upcoming year, say); the latter specifies which outputs the actor proposes to
produce, and the inputs they will require to do this. Plans will go to appropriate councils
for approval. Thus, a family might submit their consumption plan to the neighborhood
consumption council, while a worker might submit her plan to her work-team or to the
larger workplace council.

On what basis are proposals approved or rejected? Individual consumption proposals

should be approved if the person’s income is equal to or greater than the total cost of the
goods requested. Income, remember, is a function of one’s effort and sacrifice at work.
Higher-level consumption proposals (for a neighborhood, say) should be approved if
the group’s income (minus the costs of members’ personal consumption) suffices to cover
the costs of the requested items. The underlying thought here is that a community’s
overall consumption should correspond to the amount of effort its members expend
producing goods and services for society: the harder the community works, the more it is
entitled to consume. Turning to production proposals, these are evaluated by comparing
the estimated social benefits of the goods and services produced with the estimated social
costs of producing them. If this ratio is positive, then the production proposal should be
accepted; if it is negative, then the proposal does not represent a responsible use of
societal resources, and it is sent back for revision.
The IFB aggregates all approved proposals and determines whether projected supply
matches projected demand. Barring a miracle, it won’t, not at this stage. So the IFB
recalculates prices in light of the mismatch between supply and demand, raising prices
for goods with excess demand, lowering prices for those with excess supply, and sends the
plans back to their originators for revision. Using the new prices, consumers and
producers tweak their proposals, perhaps shifting demand to lower-priced goods and
increasing supply of goods with high prices. They then send these revised proposals to the
relevant councils, which evaluate them as before. Eventually, all approved proposals
make their way to the IFB, which recalculates overall supply and demand to see if they
match. If they do, then the process is over; if they don’t, then another round of revisions
is required. If the process ends with multiple feasible plans, then society votes to
determine the winner.

iii. Evaluating Parecon

This is, to be sure, an incredibly complex procedure, indeed, much more complex than
this brief sketch indicates. Even Albert and Hahnel admit that it will take multiple rounds
of negotiation, and no small amount of paperwork, to arrive at a feasible plan. But the
hope is that “as every individual or collective worker or consumer participant negotiates
through successive rounds of back and forth exchange of their proposals with all other
participants, they alter their proposals to accord with the messages they receive, and the
process converges” (Albert 128). And this, notice, without markets or central planning:
There is no center or top. There is no competition. Each actor fulfills responsibilities that
bring them into greater rather than reduced solidarity with other producers and
consumers. Everyone is remunerated appropriately for effort and sacrifice. And everyone
has proportionate influence on their personal choices as well as those of larger collectives
and the whole society (Albert 128-129).

The absence of hierarchy is worth emphasizing. Although there is an IFB, and although
one’s consumption and production proposals must be approved by others, the overall
distribution of power is web-like rather than hierarchical. No one occupies any special
position of authority. Economic decisions are not dominated by the wealthy (as under
capitalism) or the politically connected (as under central planning). Instead, all economic
decision-making is radically democratic and open to negotiation: each person has a say
over decisions that affect him or her, proportional to the degree to which he or she is
affected. Parecon may have important flaws, but inadequate respect for democratic values
would not seem to be among them. Indeed, it is hard to imagine a system more faithful to
the core socialist commitment to bottom-up, democratic control over the economy. This,
surely, is parecon's chief virtue from the socialist perspective.
But would it work? Some commentators are skeptical. Erik Olin Wright writes:

The information complexity of the iterated planning process described in Parecon might
in the end simply overwhelm the planning process. Albert is confident that with
appropriate computers…this would not be a problem…Perhaps he is right. But he may
also be horribly wrong. As described…the information process seems hugely burdensome
(264).
Defenders of parecon reply to such worries in several ways. First, they argue that critics
overestimate the amount of planning that parecon requires. Setting up one’s initial
consumption proposal may well take lots of time and energy. But with that initial
investment made, planning in subsequent years should be much quicker. One can simply
base future plans off of the original one, tweaking here and there as necessary.

Nor need one specify in great detail what one wants to consume. “For planning purposes,”
writes Albert, “we need only request types of goods, even though later everyone will pick
an exact size, style, and color to actually consume” (130). One’s consumption proposal
must “express preferences for socks, but not for colors or type of socks; for soda, books,
and bicycles, but not for flavors, titles, or styles of each” (217). (Of course, critics may find
new grounds for concern here. Because consumption preferences tend to be rather fine
grained—a person wants to read a dystopian science fiction novel, not some generic book;
she wants wild-caught salmon, not “food” or even “fish”—parecon seemingly faces a
dilemma. If people do not request specific items, then many desired items will be in short
supply, and consumer satisfaction will be low. If, on the other hand, people do request
specific items, we’re thrown back on the original worry: isn't this planning process
unworkably cumbersome?)
Second reply to the infeasibility worry: we must remember that other economic systems
require paperwork and planning, too. Under market socialism (and capitalism)
consumers must make budgets, do their taxes, pay bills, go shopping, and so on.
Enterprises must decide what they will make and in what quantities. They must also make
various personnel decisions, deciding who will work with whom, for how long, on which
projects, and so on. Added up over the course of the year, the amount of time spent on
such activities is far from trivial. Indeed, one might argue that total planning time will be
roughly constant across market- and participatory-planning-based systems.
Finally, suppose that parecon does require a substantial amount of time and energy, or
perhaps, more time and energy than alternative systems. Still, these costs must be judged
against the potential benefits. Parecon promises a more equal, fraternal, just, democratic
society. Is it even remotely reasonable to reject such a society on the grounds that it
requires too much paperwork?
In sum, defenders of parecon argue 1) that their proposal won’t prove nearly as
burdensome in practice as critics fear; indeed, 2) one may reasonably doubt that it is
any more burdensome than other systems; and 3) even if parecon does prove burdensome
both absolutely and comparatively, surely the sacrifice is worth the result.
c. Market Socialism
Suppose one rejects central planning, but also doubts the feasibility (or perhaps even the
desirability) of parecon-style participatory planning. Must one therefore reject socialism?
No, not according to “market socialists” such as John Roemer, David Schweickart, David
Miller, Erik Olin Wright, Tom Malleson, and others.

On the traditional view, socialists must, by definition, be opposed not simply to private
property, but also to markets. Market socialists disagree. On their view, socialism requires
only a certain form of ownership, namely, social rather than private ownership. About
markets, socialists should be open-minded. Markets are just tools for communicating
information and motivating economic activity. Like any tool, they should be evaluated
instrumentally. Do they work better than alternatives? If so, then socialists should
embrace them.

And indeed, market socialists characteristically argue that markets do work better than
the alternatives: just look at the economic record. This is not to say that markets are
perfect, nor is it to say that they should be allowed to operate ‘freely,’ without any
constraints. Market regulations are integral to the market socialist vision. Market
socialists are no kind of market fundamentalists. Rather, they view themselves as
pragmatists. They see the evils of capitalism, but they also see the problems with
planning-based socialist alternatives. The way forward, they argue, is to take the good
parts of capitalism and combine them with the good parts of socialism. This will displease
fundamentalists on both sides, but what alternative is there? Capitalism is a moral
disaster. Central planning was worse. Participatory planning is a pipe dream. 21st century
leftists must fuse socialism with markets. There is no other way. Or so market socialists
argue.
i. Schweickart’s “Economic Democracy”
To further explain the market socialist position, this article will present David
Schweickart’s market socialist model, “Economic Democracy” (ED for short). (For a
recent proposal very similar in spirit to Schweickart’s see Malleson 2015. For other
important developments of market socialism, see Roemer 1994, Miller 1989, and Carens
1981). Boiled down to essentials, ED has three main features: worker self-management,
the market, and social control of investment.
Worker self-management: “Each productive enterprise is controlled by those who work
there” (After Capitalism 49). Workers together decide all aspects of production: what to
make, how to make it, workplace policies, compensation, and so on. This does not
preclude the use of managers or experts. In large firms especially, some delegation of
authority will almost certainly prove necessary. Schweickart suggests that workers might
elect a workers’ council which will then appoint executives, managers, and so on.
The market. In stark contrast with planning-based forms of socialism, ED solves the
problem of allocation using market competition between profit-seeking enterprises. ED’s
enterprises start with a sum of money (M). They use this money to buy productive inputs
on the market, which they transform into commodities. They then compete with other
enterprises to sell these commodities to consumers or other enterprises, thereby ending
up with a new amount of money (M’). (Prices are determined mainly by market forces of
supply and demand, although price regulations may sometimes be appropriate: again,
Schweickart is no market fundamentalist.) In the normal case M’ > M, indicating that the
enterprise has turned a profit. Indeed, turning a profit is the immediate aim of production in
ED: enterprises produce to make money, not (primarily) to satisfy human needs. As
Schweickart says, “profit is not a dirty word in this form of socialism” (After Capitalism 51).
This may sound rather close to capitalism, but in fact there is an important difference
here. Under capitalism, profits go to owners, not workers, who receive wages. Under ED,
by contrast, there are no wages; rather, “workers get all that remains once nonlabor
costs…have been paid” (After Capitalism 51) Precisely how workers divvy up the
enterprise’s surplus is up to them. In theory they could split it equally. But given the need
to outcompete other enterprises—hence, to attract and retain skilled labor—some degree
of inequality is likely to be chosen. More productive workers, or workers with skills in
higher demand, will almost certainly earn more than their fellows. Notice the difference
here with parecon, which links income to effort rather than contribution or other “morally
arbitrary” factors beyond the agent’s control. Empirical evidence suggests that self-
managed firms (like those in the Mondragon cooperative in Spain) opt for a 4 or 5:1 ratio
between the incomes of the highest- and lowest-paid employees: quite a dramatic
difference from the 300:1 spread typical in large capitalist corporations.
Social control over investment. This is the most clearly “socialist” piece of Schweickart’s
model. In an ED, the means of production belong to all members of society, not to the
enterprises that happen to deploy them. To reflect this social rather than sectional or
private ownership, all enterprises must pay a capital assets tax. “This tax,” writes
Schweickart, “may be regarded as a leasing fee paid by the workers of the enterprise for
use of social property that belongs to all” (After Capitalism 52). Revenues from this tax
constitute the national investment fund, which is the sole source of investment money in
ED. By tweaking the tax rate, society can determine the size of the national investment
fund—hence, the amount of money available for investment, and thus the overall level of
economic growth and development.
Note the contrast with capitalism: under capitalism, most investment comes from private
rather than public sources. Both the amount and direction of economic development
therefore depend on the whims and abilities of private investors. This leads to the boom
and bust cycle discussed in section 3, as well as other pathologies such as excessive
growth, ecological devastation, underdeveloped regions alongside overdeveloped ones,
unemployment, poverty, and all the rest. Under ED, by contrast, investment is
democratically controlled by all members of society. In theory, this should enable “more
rational, equitable, and democratic development than can be expected under capitalism”
(After Capitalism 52)—a point that will be explained further below.
How, specifically, should social control over investment be institutionalized? There are
many options. At one extreme, society might opt for a planning-heavy system in which a
democratically accountable planning board draws up a plan for all new investment, which
Schweickart estimates would constitute about 15% of GDP, and allocates funds
accordingly. For example, the planning board might decide to prioritize renewable
energy, or consumer goods, or whatever. At the other extreme, society might prefer
a laissez-faire model in which funds are channeled through public banks to enterprises
using essentially the same criteria that capitalist banks use: namely, profitability. In this
version of ED, market forces would largely determine the pattern of investment.
Schweickart himself proposes something in the middle of these two options. Funds should
go to regions (for example, Texas) and communities (for example, Fort Worth) on a per
capita basis. If the Fort Worth region has the same population as Silicon Valley, then it
will receive the same amount of investment. In ED, then, there will be no economic
backwaters, no regions or communities left behind. Nor will regions or communities be
locked into a destructive neoliberal “race to the bottom” to attract investment dollars.
Each community receives its “fair share” no matter how business-friendly (or unfriendly)
its policies.
Once distributed to regions and communities on a per capita basis, investment funds are
channeled to regional and community enterprises by public banks. Enterprises in need of
investment (say, to expand production) apply to area banks for funds. Banks assess
applications on the basis of a) profitability, b) job creation, and c) any other
democratically chosen criteria, such as ecological impact. This mixed standard implies
that while profitability matters, it is not all that matters. Projects that further socially
chosen goals may be chosen over more profitable, but less socially desirable alternatives.
Summing up, Schweickart’s model strategically transplants certain core elements of
capitalism into a broadly socialist framework. We get markets and profit-seeking
enterprises, but also workplace democracy and social control over investment. The result,
Schweickart argues, is an economy that outperforms all rivals—whether socialist or
capitalist—in terms of values dear to socialist hearts, such as equality, economic stability,
human development, democracy, and environmentalism. ED thus promises to deliver
“socialism that would really work,” to quote the title of one of Schweickart’s early articles
on the topic.

ii. Evaluating Economic Democracy

Perhaps it would really work, but would it be socialism? This, in essence, is the main
criticism of Schweickart’s model (and of market socialism more generally).
That his proposal would work—that it is feasible—seems relatively uncontroversial.
Markets work. Self-managed enterprises work, as illustrated by decades of empirical
evidence. Social control over investment is the only truly novel piece of Schweickart’s
model, but its basic mechanisms—the capital assets tax, the national investment fund, the
system of public banks allocating funds on the basis of profitability as well as other
socially chosen considerations—raise no obvious feasibility worries. Granted, neoclassical
economists will complain that because ED regulates and interferes with markets in
various ways, it sacrifices efficiency. But “less than perfectly efficient” does not mean
“infeasible”. And efficiency isn’t the only thing we want from an economy anyway. Better
to sacrifice some efficiency, Schweickart would argue, for gains in employment, more
equitable development across regions, greater democratic empowerment at work, and so
on. So all things considered, market socialism seems eminently feasible. This is perhaps
its greatest selling point.

But is it desirable? Critics right and left will argue that it is not. Those on the right will
complain that ED limits basic economic freedoms, such as the formal freedom to own the
means of production, to hire wage labor, and to run a business in a un-democratic fashion.
Market socialists will reply that not all formal freedoms are worth protecting. They will
further suggest that ED will enhance effective economic freedom for the vast majority,
even if this means diminishing economic freedom, both formal and effective, for those
elites who would, absent ED, enjoy greater workplace control and authority. Under
capitalism, most workers control no productive property and enjoy no real say over their
work. Economic power is monopolized by a tiny class of owners. Under ED, by contrast,
 economic hierarchies are flattened. Economic power within the enterprise is distributed
equally to all workers on a one worker, one vote basis. Consequently, everyone has the
effective freedom to shape workplace decisions. Seen from this angle, ED enhances rather
than reduces economic freedom.
Market socialism attracts critical fire from the left as well as the right. It is a strange form
of socialism indeed, leftist critics will argue, that features anarchic market production for
profit rather than planned production for use. With markets and profits come
competition, greed, fear, and the diminution of community; with markets and profits
come consumerism, ever-expanding hours of work, and the ecologically insane desire for
never-ending economic growth.

Schweickart replies that these worries are overblown. Yes, ED features competition; yes,
there will be advertising and some degree of consumerism; yes, enterprises may, under
certain circumstances, seek to grow. But the details make a difference. Competition,
consumerism, and economic growth are all held in check in ED by countervailing forces.
Social control over investment means that we can democratically determine the overall
rate and direction of economic growth. We can prioritize environmental aims, for
instance, over the rapacious quest, so characteristic of capitalism, for additional output at
whatever cost. Workplace democracy means that we can choose shorter working hours in
exchange for reduced consumption opportunities. Moreover, because democratic firms
seek to maximize profit per-worker (rather than total profit, as do capitalist firms), they
will not expand as aggressively as their capitalist counterparts. But reduced expansion
means less output that needs to be sold, which, in turn, reduces demand for advertising
and marketing. In short, for all of these reasons ED is absolutely compatible with the
socialist vision of a less-consumerist, more leisurely, ecologically sane world, or so
defenders of market socialism would argue.
Indeed, market socialists would draw a more general lesson here. From the fact that
markets in a capitalist context lead to undesirable effects X, Y, or Z, we cannot
automatically infer that they would lead to X, Y, or Z in the dramatically different political-
economic framework of market socialism. Maybe they would, but maybe they wouldn’t.
The only way to tell, insist market socialists, is to work carefully through the details.
9. References and Further Reading
 Albert, Michael. Parecon: Life After Capitalism. London: Verso, 2003.
 Presents Albert (and Hahnel’s) participatory planning model of socialism.
 Albert, Michael, and Robin Hahnel. Looking Forward: Participatory Economics for the Twenty First
Century. South End Press, 1991.
 An early statement of Albert and Hahnel’s participatory planning model of socialism.
 Arneson, Richard. “Equality and Equal Opportunity for Welfare.” Philosophical Studies 56 (1), 77-93,
1989.
 A canonical statement of the “luck egalitarian” position.
 Bellamy, Edward. Looking Backward. Dover, 1996 [1888].
 A utopian novel, widely acclaimed in its day, depicting political, economic and social
arrangements in socialist Boston, some 100 years after a successful revolution.
 Braverman, Harry. Labor and Monopoly Capital: The Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century. 25th
Anniversary Edition. New York: Monthly Review Press, 1998 [1974].
 Important Marxist analysis of work, according to which the imperatives of profit-maximization
force capitalists to simplify and routinize labor processes, thereby degrading work.
 Brennan, Jason. Why Not Capitalism? New York: Routledge, 2014.
  A sharp parody of and rejoinder to G.A. Cohen’s Why Not Socialism? that defends capitalism on
moral (rather than pragmatic) grounds.
 Carens, Joseph. Equality, Incentives, and the Market: An Essay in Utopian Politico-Economic
Theory. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1981.
 Describes a market socialist economic system that—unlike capitalist and non-market socialist
alternatives—fully realizes the values of equality, freedom, and economic efficiency.
 Cohen, G.A. “The Structure of Proletarian Unfreedom.” Philosophy and Public Affairs, Vol. 12, No. 1, 3–33,
1983.
 Argues that workers are individually free (since they are not forced to work for capitalists)
but not collectively free (since few workers can escape proletarian status at any given time).
 Cohen, G.A. History, Labour, and Freedom: Themes From Marx. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1988.
 Collection of Cohen’s essays on Marxist themes.
 Cohen, G.A. “On the Currency of Egalitarian Justice.” Ethics 99 (4), 906-944, 1989.
 Important statement of luck egalitarianism.
 Cohen, G.A. Karl Marx’s Theory of History: A Defence. Expanded edition. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2000.
 Cohen’s classic reconstruction and qualified defense of Marx’s theory of history, “historical
materialism”. Widely regarded as a founding text of the so-called “Analytical Marxism” movement.
 Cohen, G.A. Why Not Socialism? Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009.
 Argues that—bracketing issues of feasibility—socialism is morally desirable, but concedes that
socialists do not know whether socialism is feasible.
 Cohen, G.A. “Capitalism, Freedom, and the Proletariat.” In G.A. Cohen, On The Currency of Egalitarian
Justice and Other Essays. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2011.
 Analyzes freedom under capitalism, arguing that private property restricts formal freedom in
underappreciated ways.
 Devine, Pat. Democracy and Economic Planning. Cambridge: Polity Press, 1988.
 Rich, detailed, economically sophisticated statement of a democratic alternative to central
planning, with especially interesting ideas about the division of labor.
 Elster, Jon. An Introduction to Karl Marx. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1986.
 An often-critical reconstruction of central Marxist themes by one of the central figures in the
Analytical Marxism movement.
 Elster, Jon. Self-Realization in Work and Politics: The Marxist Conception of the Good Life. Social
Philosophy and Policy, Vol. 3, No. 2, 1986.
 Analytically crisp discussion of self-realization and the prospects for achieving it under
capitalism and socialism.
 Engels, Frederick. Socialism: Utopian and Scientific. Pathfinder Press, 2008 [1880].
 Important overview of historical materialism and the socialist critique of capitalism by Marx’s
intellectual partner; arguably more accessible to beginners than anything by Marx himself.
 Friedman, Milton. Capitalism and Freedom. 40th Anniversary Edition. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press. 2002 [1962].
 Friedman’s classic defense of libertarian capitalism on moral grounds.
 Gilabert, Pablo. “The Socialist Principle ‘From Each According to Their Abilities, To Each According to
Their Needs’.” Journal of Social Philosophy, Vol. 46, No. 2, 197-225, 2015.
 Interesting recent paper that brings the needs/abilities principle into dialogue with other
positions in distributive justice.
 Harrington, Michael. Socialism: Past and Future. New York: Little, Brown & Co, 1989.
 Historically learned, empirically informed overview of socialism’s development and future
trajectory by an important figure in American socialist politics.
 Hayek, Friedrich. The Road to Serfdom: Text and Documents—The Definitive Edition. Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 2007.
 Hayek’s celebrated broadside against socialist planning and the creeping threat to freedom
that it represents.
 Holmstrom, Nancy. “Exploitation.” Canadian Journal of Philosophy, Vol. 7, No. 2, 353-369, 1977.
 Early, analytically sharp defense of the view that exploitation is forced, uncompensated labor,
the products of which producers do not control.
 Lenin, Vladimir. The State and Revolution. New York: Penguin, 2009 [1918].
 Argues, to give one example, that genuine democracy is impossible under capitalism.
 Levine, Andrew. Arguing for Socialism. London: Verso. 1988.
 Rigorous, subtle work that mounts a qualified case for socialism using tools of contemporary
moral and political philosophy.
 Malleson, Tom. After Occupy: Economic Democracy for the 21st Century. New York: Oxford University
Press, 2015.
 Empirically and philosophically rich development of a broadly market-socialist position with
an especially interesting defense of workplace democracy.
 Marx, Karl. Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Vol. 1. New York: Vintage Books, 1977 [1867].
 Marx’s masterwork lays bare capitalism’s “laws of motion”, but says little about alternatives.
 Marx, Karl. Critique of the Gotha Program. In David McLellan (Ed.), Karl Marx: Selected Writings, second
edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000 [1875].
 Marx, Karl, and Frederick Engels. The Communist Manifesto. London: Verso, 1998 [1848].
 An enormously influential political pamphlet outlining core elements of the Marxist theory of
history, critique of capitalism, and program for a socialist future.
 Miller, David. Market, State, and Community: Theoretical Foundations of Market Socialism. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1989.
 Important, philosophically sophisticated statement of market socialist ideas.
 Ollman, Bertell, ed. Market Socialism: The Debate among Socialists. New York: Routledge, 1998.
 Brings together leftist critiques and defenses of market socialism.
 Peffer, Rodney. Marxism, Morality, and Social Justice. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991.
 Accessible reconstruction of Marxist themes, using techniques of analytic philosophy, that
brings Marxism into dialogue with liberal egalitarians like John Rawls.
 Reiman, Jeffrey. “Exploitation, force, and the moral assessment of capitalism: Thoughts on Roemer and
Cohen.” Philosophy and Public Affairs, Vol. 16, No. 1, 3-41, 1987.
 Argues that exploitation is forced, unpaid labor, and further contends—contrary to Cohen—
that individual workers are indeed forced to work for capitalists.
 Roemer, John. “Should Marxists Be Interested in Exploitation?” Philosophy and Public Affairs Vol. 14, No.
1, 30-65, 1985.
 His answer is no: Marxists should focus on distributive justice rather than exploitation.
 Roemer, John. A Future for Socialism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1994.
 Important statement of market socialism by a leading figure in the Analytical Marxist
movement.
 Schweickart, David. “Economic Democracy: A Worthy Socialism That Would Really Work.” Science &
Society, Vol. 56, No. 1 (Spring), 9-38, 1992.
 A capsule presentation of Schweickart’s market socialist model, “economic democracy”.
 Schweickart, David. “Nonsense on Stilts: Michael Albert’s Parecon.” Schweickart’s website. Posted
January, 2006.
 Argues that Albert and Hahnel’s “participatory economics” can’t work, and wouldn’t be
desirable even if it did.
 Schweickart, David. After Capitalism. Second edition. Lantham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2011.
 Argues for a heterodox form of socialism that blends profits and markets with workplace
democracy and social control over investment.
 Smith, Adam. The Wealth of Nations: Books 1-3. New York: Penguin, 1982 [1776].
 Smith’s classic discussion of early capitalism.
 Van Parijs, Philippe. Real Freedom For All. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997.
 Defends a “basic income” on “real libertarian” grounds.
 Wright, Erik Olin. Envisioning Real Utopias. London: Verso, 2010.
 Drawing on a vast fund of research from social science and philosophy, reimagines socialism
for the 21st century.

Theories of the state: Marxist

Marxist theory of state the most protruding theory. Marxist theoretical views challenges the basic
concepts of liberal state as well as emphasises that it subjugates majority men of society to
accomplish its objectives. It is to be abolished or smashed without which the emancipation of
common men will never be possible. Though, a problem about academic analysis of Marxist theory
of state is that nowhere Marx has systematically analysed the theory. Marx stated that every state
is a tyranny. It is said that every state is forced by extra-moral, extra-legal force.
Marx (1818- 1883) and his colleague Engels (1820-1895) have distinct explanations and
statements which established state theory. In the Communist Manifesto, the state is the “Political
power, properly so called, is merely the organised power of one class for oppressing another”. In
the same book we find them saying, “The executive of the modern state is but a committee for
managing the common affairs of the whole bourgeoisie”.
Hal Draper in his Karl Marx’s Theory of Upheaval explained that “The state is the institution or
complex of institutions which bases itself on the availability of forcible coercion by special
agencies of society in order to maintain the dominance of a ruling class, preserve the existing
property relations from basic change and keep all other classes in subjection.”
Draper’s description of Marxist state is not basically different from the definitions given by Marx
and Engels in the Communist Manifesto. The state is basically an instrument of class domination.
In other words, the state is used by the bourgeoisie to exploit the common people and in that sense
it is a mechanism for mistreatment. This idea has been expounded by Lenin.

Origin of State:
Marx, Engels and their supporters (particularly Lenin) had no faith on the social contract theory as
the origin of state. They have observed the origin from a materialistic’ viewpoint which emphasises
that though the state is the formation of man, behind this there is no emotion, idea but the influence
of material conditions which they termed as economic conditions.
They have divided the development of society into old communist social system, slave society,
feudal society and industrial society. In the old communist society, there was no state because
there was no existence of private property. The system of private property worked as a potential
cause of the rise of state. The owners of private property felt insecurity as to its protection and they
felt the requirement of a super power which could provide protection eventually.

1. As soon as there was private property, two classes of men there appeared such as one was
the owner of property and the other was without property.
2. The conflict between them became prominent. Property owners wanted to subjugate the other
class.
3. Property owners formed a force within the society and this force ultimately assumed the status
of state.

Marx and Engels have established that the state for all practical purposes, was set up in the slave
society. Because in the slave society, there were mainly two classes, the owners of slaves and the
slaves themselves. The owners of the slaves required an organisation to control and dominate
slaves.
Engels in his The Origin of Family, Private Property and State has intricately analysed the origin
and development of state. The state is not something originated from the society. It is the product
of society. It is quoted that “The state is, by no means, a power forced on society from without
Rather it is a product of society at a certain stage of development”.
People living in society laid the foundation of state for the realisation of their class interests. Engels
in this book has firmly stated that the interests of the owners of property are at completely opposite
to those who are not the owners; because of this there were rattles of interests between these two
classes and the interests were irreconcilable.
Simultaneously, there developed a hostility between these two classes and again this antagonism
could not be settled. All these led to a situation which necessitated a state structure. The owners of
the property came to be regarded as a separate class whose only aims were to control the persons
who were not the owners of property and to develop a mechanism to help the property owners.
The state in this way was created as a public power.
The man-made state had two main functions that include to provide security to the owners of
wealth or owners of means of production and to collect taxes from the members of society. Engels
has observed that though the state is the product of society, gradually but steadily it became the
owner of huge power and it stood above society.
But though the state stood above the society, it was always responsive with the owners of property.
It is to conclude that the state is the outcome of human contrivance and was made with specific
aims. According Marx and Engels, the origin of the state has nothing to do with the social contract
or the divine right theory. They have analysed the origin from materialistic standpoint.

Models of the Marxist Theory of State:

The Marxists have revealed two models of the Marxist theory of state. One is instrumentalist model
and the other model is relative autonomy model which is in opposition to the other model.
1. The Instrumentalist Model:
Marx and Engels stated that the state was created to defend the economic interests (other interests
are also included but economic interests are primary) and ultimately the state (along with its police,
military and bureaucracy) was converted into an instrument used by the owners of property.
From this vital function of the state, the Marxists have inferred a particular model of Marxist theory
of state which is called the instrumentalist model. The central ideology of this model is that the
state is used as an instrument for the fulfilment of interests of a particular class or section of society.
The chief representatives of this model are Ralph Miliband, Sanderson, and Avineri. There are
many others who have lent their support to this model. Even Lenin recognized this model in his
highly praised famous work State and Revolution.
In Class Struggle in France, Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of the State, The Eighteenth Brumaire
of Louis Bonaparte Marx highlighted this aspect of state. On the eve of Bolshevik Revolution
Lenin published State and Revolution and in this book, he has said that the state is the result of the
irreconcilability of class resentment. The bourgeoisie used the state to eloquent the interests of the
capitalists. From historical review, Marx has revealed that without using the state as an instrument,
the bourgeoisie could not survive because its survival depended upon its ability to amass and guard
wealth.

Central Idea of Instrumentalist Approach:

Marx said that the state is of the most powerful, economically dominant class. It means that the
bourgeois state is totally controlled by the dominant class. This economically influential and
dominant class uses the state to serve its own purposes. This is the instrumentalist character of
state. In a class society, this special role of the state is foreseeable and this can be elucidated in the
form of the following points:
- In any class state/society there are two main classes (there are also other classes but two classes
are main. Marx and Engels came to know this from the study of history).
- Since the interests of these two main classes are opposite conflict between the two important
classes is inevitable because the interests stand in direct opposition.
- Because of this, the interests are irreconcilable.
- The two classes make preparations for aggravating the conflict. On the one hand there is the state
and capitalist class and on the other hand there are workers.
- The capitalist class uses the state machinery (particularly the police and army) to control the
revolt fuelled by the working class.
- If the state is not used as an instrument for dominating the working class, exploitation of the
workers would not have been possible.
Manifesto and German Ideology: In huge political literature, Marx and Engels have expounded
the instrumentalist idea of state but analysts of Marxism had opinion that in the Communist
Manifesto and The German Ideology, the concept has importance. The bourgeois class gradually
and steadily captured political power and finally established its authority over all aspects of
governmental matters.
In Declaration, Marx and Engels have said, “political power, properly so called, is merely the
organised power of one class for oppressing another”.
The bourgeoisie, in order to establish its full control over the industry and the economy has
constantly transformed the industry, mode of production. The bourgeoisie did it by presenting new
machineries and improved techniques of production into industries. By doing this, the capitalist
class has been able to articulate its full hold over all the branches of economy. The bourgeoisie has
not only controlled the domestic economy and internal market but also the world market. “The
bourgeoisie has through its exploitation of the world market given a cosmopolitan character to
production and consumption”. It is assessed that the main aim of the bourgeoisie is to control all
the divisions of government, the economy with all its ramifications and finally the world market.
Marx had insistently said that the bourgeoisie has performed these tasks through state and in this
way the state acts as an instrument.
The instrumentalist approach to politics highlighted by Marx and Engels also has important place
in The German Ideology (1846). This large book, consisting of more than 700 pages (Moscow
edition), sporadically makes comments which throw light on the instrumentalist interpretation of
politics. This book is the joint efforts of Marx and Engels. They have said “By the mere fact that
it is a class and no longer is an estate the bourgeoisie forced to organise itself no longer locally,
but nationally and to give a general form to its average interests”. The control of the bourgeoisie
class is not limited within the local political arena but its influence spreads throughout the national
politics. It can be said that the capitalist class is the regulator of both local and national politics. In
the Manifesto, they expressed almost the same words. The state is the form in which the individuals
of a ruling class assert their common interests even the civil society is completely controlled by
the bourgeoisie.
Marx and Engels denoted civil society as numerous organisations and institutions and the social,
political, economic, cultural aspects of society. Marx and Engels have further perceived that if
there were no classes which means no private property, there would not arise the necessity of any
state system at all. There it can be concluded that the instrumentalist approach of Marxist political
study is closely related with the development of private property and state structure.
Marx and Engels observed the entire episode from the viewpoint of exploitation inflicting untold
miseries upon the workers and the capitalists overlooked it. Marx assessed the historical facts and
specified that the state had always been used as an instrument of exploitation and he observed that
during the epoch of industrialization this particular role of the state (that is as an instrument of
exploitation) had earned additional momentum and it was so naked that it drew his special
attention.

Assessment of Instrumentalist Model:

Critics have raised several objections against Marx’s instrumentalist interpretation of bourgeois
state.
Criticisms:

1. It is generally perceived that neither Marx nor Engels has stated clearly this concept. It is the
interpretation of their followers. Their followers have thought that Marx and Engels might have
thought on the line of instrumentalist approach.
2. The opponents further maintained that the state sometimes acts as an instrument to favour
the bourgeoisie but not all times and on all events. In order to establish its “neutrality” or
impartiality it does something in favour of the workers which goes against the interests of the
capitalists.
3. Bob Jessop considers that there is vagueness in devising instrumentalist approach. Jessop
further said that state is a simple and ordinary organisation and to impose instrumentalism
upon it is quite unjustified. It is true that sometimes the capitalists use the state for the purpose
of exploitation, but at the same time they use it for some other purposes. It is unlucky that Marx
has ignored this aspect.
4. Jessop has observed that at different times, Marx and Engels have stressed other roles, but
their supporters have singled out this particular role and have over-emphasised it. This is not
correct. In some countries, the capitalists do not act as a dominating class. In those cases it is
not applicable.

2. Relative Autonomy Model:

The relative autonomy model signifies that though the capitalist state works as an instrument under
the dominance of the dominant class that is the bourgeoisie, it exercises its power autonomously.
That is, the state is not always dictated by the capitalists or it does not discharge its functions at
the behest of the bourgeoisie. The independent functioning of the state away from the influence of
the economically dominant class is interpreted by the renowned Marxists as the relative autonomy
of state. Therefore the words relative autonomy do not mean that the state always acts independent
of dominating class.
Marx closely observed the functioning of the capitalist states of his time and after that he drew
certain conclusions. The fact is that all the capitalist states of his time did not play identical role
nor did they assume same character. The recent studies of Marxism have discovered that Marx and
Engels did not repudiate the impartial role of state and this is evident in many literatures. Ralph
Miliband is the supporter of relative autonomy of state. In Socialist Registrar (1965), Miliband has
said that though the instrumentalist approach is very important, the relative autonomy model is not
less important.
It is demonstrated in political studies that the state generally admits those policies and tries to
implement schemes which will give constructive results in the long run and will serve the purpose
of the state as well as that of the bourgeoisie in effective way. The state gives priority to long term
interests over short term interests. Furthermore, in a pluralist society, there are a number of elite
groups. Sometimes these are involved in conflict and the state authority proceeds cautiously and
judiciously. This suggests that the state acts independently. The same point has been stressed by
another critic, “The capitalist state, legislator of the Factory Acts, is, then, the eye of the otherwise
blind capitalist, the stabiliser of a system capitalist activity itself endangers”.
When investigating the causes, the state attempts to maintain neutrality or establish its autonomy,
it is found that the reason, generally advanced, is that in a pluralist society there are different groups
and factions of the ruling class and they are sometimes involved in conflict. The state wants to
cohere all the factions together. This aim could not be achieved without the autonomous or neutral
stand of the state.
The different groups/factions of the ruling class are very powerful and active and of the interests
of some groups are neglected that group will raise hue and cry and interrupt the smooth functioning
of the political system. The ‘authority of the state treats it as an unwelcome feature or development
and will try to combat it. So the state tries to make balance among all the potential forces.
Schwarzmantel has gave reason, “The state in a liberal democratic system must have some
autonomy in order to preserve its legitimacy. If the state was seen to be too closely bound up with
and dominated by one set of interests it would not be able to maintain the belief that it represents
the general interests”. The fact is that though the state acts as a tool, in numerous cases it tries to
maintain its autonomous character and it does so to enhance its image.
Relative Autonomy in Marx’s writing:
Marx did not directly denote to the relative autonomy of state, but The German Ideology, The
Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte contain sufficient hints about this. During Napoleon’s
rule, the French state was characterized by the powerful bureaucracy. It acted on behalf of the class
rule of bourgeoisie. In consequent regimes, the state as an instrument of exploitation did not
diminished its importance. That is, the instrumentalist approach was quite valid. But, “only under
the Second Bonaparte, the state seem to have made itself completely independent. As against civil
society, the state machine maintained its position thoroughly that the chief of the society of
December 10 suffices for its head”.
The Eighteenth Brumaire was written by Marx between December 1851 and March 1852 and
during that period, he observed the two opposite roles of state that included, as an instrument of
exploitation and as an impartial organ of administration. The state amalgamated its power against
the civil society because in the latter there was dominating influence of bourgeoisie and other
factions of capitalists.
Second Bonaparte took this drastic step not for the general betterment of civil society but for his
own sake, to satisfy his own desire for more power. Miliband stated that this would appear to
suggest the complete independence of the state power from all social forces in civil society. He
has said that the state sometimes acts independently apparently to prove that it is not controlled by
any class or group. Even in that situation an individual’s lust for power works.
In the Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte, Marx further commented that, “And yet the state
power is not suspended in mid-air. Bonaparte represents a class and the most numerous class of
French Society at that small holding peasants”. Marx had emphasized that the state did not exist is
mid-air or in vacuum. It will always signify a class; it may be that the class is not well articulated
or well organised. But its existence cannot be ruled out. Even when a state acts independently the
weakness or association of the state for a particular class or to any dominating group cannot be
denied. Marx detailed that when the two dominant groups or classes are in perfect balance, in that
situation the state might act autonomously. But this is a rare situation. In the Eighteenth Brumaire
of Louis Bonaparte Marx had acknowledged that the autonomy or the affiliation of state is not
something fixed.
The state must study every situation and consider everything in the background of long term
interests and smooth management of general management. If it considers that these two purposes
would be properly served by remaining neutral the state authority would do that. But if it thinks
that supporting the economically dominant class would be for the better interests of the governing
elite or would be better for the sake of enhancement of its power it would abandon its own
autonomy. Marx did not argue in clear and unambiguous language.
The State and the Ideology:
Though Marx and Engels have visualized the state from the background of materialism, they have
never ignored the philosophical aspect of state. The ideology has an important role in the
management of state. In The German Ideology, Marx and Engels have emphasized that in every
class state, the governing class always dominants in the economic, political, cultural and other
aspects of state. This does not mean that the state will always denote a particular ideology.
However, the state will represent the views and ideas of the economically dominant class. The
German Ideology quoted the following:
“The ideas of the ruling class are in every epoch the ruling ideas, i.e. the class which is the ruling
the material force of society is at the same time its ruling intellectual force. The class which has
the means of material production at its disposal, consequently also controls the means of mental
production so that the ideas of those who lacks the means of mental production are on the whole
subject to it. The ruling ideas are nothing more than the ideal expression of the dominant material
relations”.
In this writing, Marx and Engels have emphasized many points that are mentioned below:

1. A bourgeois state has always some philosophy.

2. This ideology is supported or fostered by the reigning class.
3. Ruling class is one that controls the material forces of production.
4. The ruling class through various means indoctrinates the common people. In other words, the
ruling class converts the people in its favour and if it fails it tries to make them neutral. The
ruling class adopts the methods of political socialisation.
5. The ruling class gives stress on the civil society.

Ideology turns as a Defence:

Marx and Engels have focused on the importance of ideology. Though, they are not quite clear
about it. The purpose of the ruling class is always to exploit the workforces and other susceptible
sections of society. But the exploiting class cannot expose the real character. The ruling class
always uses the dogma to masquerade its real objective to exploit other classes. If the despicable
motives of the ruling class appear that may cause embarrassment or displacement of the class rule.
In other words, destabilization may occur. To avoid any risk, the ruling class uses idea.
Schwarzmantel observes: “Even in a situation when the old order is about to be overthrown, the
defence of interest and privilege is conducted under the banner of ideas”.
The capitalists want to show that they rule not for their own benefits but for a dogma. To grab an
ideology, the exploiters advance their explanation. The exploiters cannot openly declare their real
motive or cannot say what they are doing. In this way ideology or ideas act as an instrument or
masquerade. In The German Ideology they have believed: “For each new class which puts itself
in the place of one ruling before it is compelled, merely in order to carry through its aim, to present
its interest as the common interest of all the members of society”. The bourgeoisie universalises
the objective and ideas and also rationalises them. The capitalist class is quite conscious of the fact
that if it fails to persuade the general people of the benefits of the bourgeois rule agitation is bound
to arise.

State, Reform and Revolution:

The present structure of the state is to be transformed through reforms. Whether Marx supported
reforms is not clear from his huge literature. Again there is a controversy on this issue. Interpreters
of Marx’s thought had opinion that Marx thought that without revolution, fundamental change of
society is not possible. But the success of revolution depends upon some prerequisites. The
workers must be mentally and materially prepared for an uprising. They must form a well-
organised and organized class. They must be conscious of the extent of the exploitation. The
workers will appreciatively welcome all sorts of troubles and will make sacrifice needed for the
success of revolution. Some criticizers have argued that Marx in various ways supported reforms.
The purpose of the reforms would be to help the working class in its preparation for revolution.
Improvements should not constitute the goals but they are temporary means to accomplish major
goals. “As far as Marx is concerned it can be said that in his standpoint, the worker’s movement
should indeed seek improvements within the limits of capitalism but these reforms were to be
stages on the way or means for achieving complete transformation”.
Seizure of State Power:
Marx and Engels have constantly whispered that the liberation of the working class is never
possible without the appropriation of state power and this can be done through protracted class
struggle leading to revolution. It can be said that revolution is the only resolution to all the
problems that are found in a bourgeois state. Revolution will bring positive results. First of all, aim
of revolution is to capture the state power from the bourgeoisie and to establish the complete
authority of the working class which Marx and Engels have labelled as ‘dictatorship of the
proletariat’. After that the working class will proceed to change the bourgeois structures radically.
Thus, it can be said that the chief objective of proletarians’ revolution is to seize state power, Marx,
Engels, Lenin, Stalin have stated that launching of a single revolution by the working class would
not be sufficient to accomplish state goal.
Revolution should be enduring. Revolution would continue till the communism is achieved.
Marxist theory of state and the theory of revolution are thoroughly connected concepts. However,
Marx and Marxists have made differences between different types of revolution. These differences
may have great significance in the field of comprehensive analysis of Marxist theory of revolution.
Marx, Engels and Lenin observed the state absolutely from different angle. They viewed the state
not only a usurper of human independence but also an instrument of subjugating human beings.
Such a state need not be eliminated forcibly. The state power should be detained compulsorily and
at the same time, the supreme authority of working class should be established. At the same time,
all classes would be abolished. When these two objectives are attained, there will be no importance
of state because it was only the instrument of mistreatment.

Assessment of the Theory of State:

The theory of state stated and elaborated by Marx undergone criticism.
1. Marx and Engels foreseen that the proletariat class through protracted class struggle and
permanent revolution would succeed in arresting capitalist state and establish its overall supremacy
which would finally lead to the creation of a communist society. There are two predictions, one is
the bourgeois state would, one day, be seized by the working class.
The other is communism would take the place of capitalism. Only in Russia the working class
captured power. There were more matured capitalist states such as United States, Britain, France,
and Germany. In these countries, working class has not been able to seize political power.
So the first calculation remains unsatisfied. In the second prediction, it can simply be observed
that there is doubt about to what extent Russia had thrived in establishing socialism not to speak
of communism. The “first socialist state” in the world shrunken in 1991. Communist Party of
China claims that China is a socialist state. But her acceptance of market economy casts doubt on
that claim.
2. Marx and Engels anticipated that state would weaken away. The huge state structure of former
Soviet Union has falsified this tall claim of Marx and Engels. The Soviet state was as powerful as
were Britain, United States during the prime of Cold War. Even after the recession of Cold War,
the Soviet state was obviously the super power along with United States of America. China is
another socialist state and today it is a huge economic power.
Though the orthodox Marxists interpreted the withering away of state and want to establish that
Marxist idea is correct, it remains that, it is no longer a logical concept.
3. Marx and Engels believed that only the establishment of the autocracy of the proletariat would
be able to liberate the working class. Today, the working class is not only joint, its bargaining
power has improved several times. From time to time the worker’s demands have been met by the
capitalists. It can be deduced that the workers are still browbeaten, but it is also a fact that the
extent of exploitation is much less than it was in Marx’s time. Today’s workers are more interested,
so far as the agitation is concerned, in democratic or constitutional methods than in revolutionary
methods. The working class does not think of capturing state power for the fulfilment of the
legitimate demands. It sits at a bargaining table and settles all the disputes.
The attitude of the workers and that of the capitalists have gone through major changes during the
last century (from 1900 to 1999). Both the workers and capitalists have decided to avoid the
conflicting situations and both feel that all the disputes can be politely settled. But in Marx’s time,
the capitalists took stubborn attitude towards the workers and the latter retaliated it. In this way
conflict increased.
4. There is a disagreement about the instrumentalist approach and the relative autonomy approach.
If analysed the state structures of modern capitalist states, it can be established that the state acts
on all important matters, independently. It is neither controlled nor dictated by the dominant class.
There may be an immoral nexus between the economically powerful class and the state. But
bureaucracy, judiciary and legislature act in accordance with certain fixed principles laid down in
the constitution of law book. The state gives priority to the general interests of the body politic.
5. Many opponents indicated that Marxist theory of state is not ideal. The proletarians would
capture state power and would bring everything of the capitalist state under its supreme authority
is nothing but a Utopian thought. The seizure of state power is definitely not an easy task. The
workers are united no doubt, but the capitalists are more united and would fight strongly to resist
all attempts of working class to capture state power. But a major part of his theory of state stands
on the concept that working class through class struggle and revolution would seize state power.
6. Marxist theory of state has other limitation. He has said that the classless society will have no
state, it will weaken away. If that was the case then which authority will settle the disputes in such
a society? The classless society will not be occupied by gods. Conflicts in classless society must
appear and for their settlement a sovereign body is essential. Marxist theory of state did not give
solution to such cases. It is evaluated that Marx had opinion that the bourgeois was basically using
the modern state for enhancing the lifestyle and prospects of the capitalist class of the society. One
of the famous quotes from the Communist manifesto, Marx & Engels (1985. p.82) states “The
executive of the modern State is but a committee for managing the common affairs of the whole
bourgeoisie.”
Marx also supposed that communism was the best resolution for such a capitalist society. The
conflict among the classes keeps increasing as the capitalism in the state develops, since the
interests of the bourgeois are fostered by the state in capitalism. Additionally, capitalism also
facilitates the bourgeoisie to give concessions to the proletariat, in scenarios where there is a social
uncertainty. The welfare state of the Scandinavian regions had similar views to the Marxist view
of the state. Concessions such as unemployment benefits, free education, and free health check
and pension schemes are given by the bourgeois to the proletariat in certain Scandinavian states.
In short, Marx has been blamed of being a determinist and a reductionist. Many things are not
related purely on economics, his awareness of the class system neglects to include the petty
bourgeoisie, those who own small businesses and only employ themselves. He did not predict the
improvements of living standards for all of society or the impact of the middle class. He did not
include countries such as Russia and China who might revolt and denounce communism. He did
not anticipate the fact that our society is a democratic one and that all have the right to equality
and farness.
To summarise, the Marxist theory represented that the state serves as an instrument for the rich
and the middleclass classes, who attempt continually to suppress the working classes or the public
for its own personal welfares. The advocate of the Marxist theory, Karl Marx believed that most
of the political power of the society is controlled by the bourgeois class. The modern state is also
tremendously dependent on credits and taxes. Most of the credits and taxes are also borne by the
bourgeois class. The media such as newspapers or television is also controlled by the bourgeois.
This makes it easier for the bourgeois to enter politics and thrive in politics. The bourgeois state
serves as a shared insurance pact which defends the interests of the bourgeois class at the expense
of the exploited class (McLellan, 1971). Marx thought that politics is mainly a class conflict, and
he explained that political relations can be renovated into economic ones. Marxists recommended
that politics is mainly associated with the concepts of fight for power, however Weber differs with
the standpoint of Marx. It is concluded that Marxism is a political theory that maintains that social
revolutions comes about through economic class struggle. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels
established the theory in the 19th century. Marxism formed the logical basis for the growth of
communism in the early 20th century.