Rousseau Presents His Ideal Form of Government
From Rousseau, Jean-Jacques. The Social Contract. (London: Printed for D.I. Eaton, at the Cock and Swine, 1795), 21-26, 180-182.
 

Jean-Jacques Rousseau, a Genevan, thought that the best form of government would be a small city-state (like his own) where every citizen would actively participate in politics. All perfectly informed, one "General Will" would emerge and determine the course of politics in that state. To that end, he disliked political parties, interest groups (including religion), and individuals who could exert their will over others, since this would disrupt the spontaneity and infallibility of the General Will. Rousseau’s Social Contract was not widely read during his lifetime, his contemporaries turning instead to his novels like Emile and his Confessions. During the Revolution, however, men like Robespierre and Marat borrowed liberally from Rousseau in the formation of their own political philosophies and often claimed to represent the General Will to justify their positions. While Rousseau’s political theories did not directly cause the French Revolution, the ways in which the revolutionaries applied his ideas had a profound influence on the course the Revolution took.

 

CHAP. VII.

Of the Sovereign.

It is plain from the above formula, that the act of association includes a reciprocal engagement between particulars and the public; and that each individual, in contracting, if I may so say with himself, is laid under a twofold engagement, viz. as a member of the sovereignty toward particular persons, and as a member of the state toward the sovereign. That maxim of the civil law, however, is inapplicable here, which says, that no one is bound by the engagements he enters into with himself; for there is a wide difference between entering into a personal obligation with one's self, and with a whole, of which one may constitute a part.

It is further to be observed, that the public determination, which is obligatory on the subject with regard to the sovereign, on account of the twofold relation by which each stands contracted, is not, for the contrary reason, obligatory on the supreme power toward itself; and that it is consequently inconsistent with the nature of the body-politic, that such supreme power should impose a law, which it cannot break. For, as the sovereign stands only in a single relation, it is in the same case as that of an individual contracting with himself; whence it is plain, that there neither is, nor can be, any fundamental law obligatory on the whole body of a people, even the Social Compact itself not being such. By this, however, it is not meant, that such a body cannot enter into engagements with others, in matters that do not derogate from this contract; for, with respect to foreign objects, it is a simple and individual person.

But as the body-politic, or the sovereign, derives its very existence from this inviolable contract, it can enter into no lawful engagement, even with any similar body, derogatory from the tenor of this primitive act; such as that of alienating any part of itself, or of submitting itself entirely to a foreign sovereign. To violate the act whereby it exists, would be to annihilate itself; and from nothing can arise nothing.

No sooner are a multitude of individuals thus united in a body, then it becomes impossible to act offensively against any of the members without attacking the whole, and still less to offend the whole body, without injuring the members. Hence both duty and interest equally oblige the two contracting parties to assist each other; and the same persons ought to endeavour to include, within this twofold relation, all the advantages which depend on it.

Now the sovereign, being formed only by the several individuals of which the state is composed, can have no interest contrary to theirs: of course the supreme power stands in no need of any guarantee toward the subjects, because it is impossible that the body should be capable of hurting all its members; and we shall see hereafter, that it can as little tend to injure any of them in particular. Hence the sovereign is necessarily, and for the same reason that it exists, always such as it ought to be.

The case is different, however, as to the relation in which the subjects stand to the sovereign; as, notwithstanding their common interest, the latter can have no security that the former will discharge their engagements, unless means to be found to engage their fidelity.

In fact, every individual may, as a man, entertain a particular will, either contradictory or dissimilar to his general will as a citizen. His private interest may influence him in a manner diametrically opposite to the common interest of the society. Reflecting on his own existence as positive and naturally independent, he may conceive what he owes to the common cause to be a free and gratuitous contribution, the want of which will be less hurtful to others than the discharge of it will be burdensome to himself; and, regarding the moral person of the state as an imaginary being, because it is not a man, he may be delirious of enjoying all the privileges of a citizen, without fulfilling his engagement as a subject; an injustice, that, in its progress, must necessarily be the ruin of the body-politic.

To the end, therefore, that the social compact should not prove an empty form, it tacitly includes this engagement, which only can enforce the rest, viz. that whosoever refuses to pay obedience to the general will, shall be liable to be compelled to it by the force of the whole body. And this is in effect nothing more than that they may be compelled to be free; for such is the condition which, in uniting every citizen to the state, secured him from all personal dependence; a condition, which forms the whole artifice and play of the political machine: it is this alone that renders all social engagements just and equitable, which, without it, would be absurd, tyrannical, and subject to the most enormous abuses.

 


CHAP. VIII.

Of civil society in general.

The transition of man from a state of nature to a state of society is productive of a very remarkable change in his being, by substituting justice instead of instinct as the rule of his conduct, and attaching that morality to his actions of which they were before destitute. It is in immediate consequence of this change, when the voice of duty succeeds to physical impulse and the law of appetite, that man, who hitherto regarded only his own gratification, finds himself obliged to act on other principles, and to consult his reason before he follows the dictates of his passions. Although, by entering into a state of society, he is deprived also of many advantages which depend on that of nature, he gains by it others so very considerable: his faculties exert and expand themselves; his ideas are enlarged; his sentiments ennobled; and his whole soul is elevated to so great a degree, that, if the abuses of this new state do not degrade him below the former, he ought incessantly to bless that happy moment in which he was rescued from it, and converted from a stupid and ignorant animal, into an intelligent and wise being.

To state the balance of what is lost and gained by this change, we shall reduce it to comparative terms. By entering into the social compact, man gives up his natural liberty or unlimited right to every thing which he is desirous of and can attain. In return for this, he gains social liberty, and an exclusive property in all those things of which he is possessed. To avoid any mistake, however, in the nature of these compensations, it is necessary to make a just distinction between natural liberty, which is limited by nothing but the inabilities of the individual, and social liberty, which is limited by the general will of the community; and also, between that possession which is only effected by force, or follows the right of prior occupancy, and that property which is only founded on a positive title.

To the preceding also may be added, as the acquisition of a social state, moral liberty, which only renders a man truly master of himself: for to be under the direction of appetite alone is to be in a state of slavery; while to pay obedience only to those laws which we prescribe for ourselves, is liberty. But I have said too much already on this subject, the philosophical meaning of the word Liberty being in this place out of the question.

 


CHAP. VIII.

Of political religion.

...

But, laying aside political considerations, let us return to the matter of right, and ascertain its true principles with regard to this important point. The right which the social compact confers on the sovereign, extending no farther than to public utility, the subject is not accountable to that sovereign on account of any opinions he may entertain that have nothing to do with the community. Now it is of great importance to a state, that every citizen should be of a religion that may inspire him with a regard for his duty: but the tenets of that religion are no farther interesting to the community than as they relate to morals, and to the discharge of those obligations which the professor lies under to his fellow-citizens. If we except these, the individual may profess what others he pleases, without the sovereign's having any right to interfere; for having no jurisdiction in the other world, it is nothing to the sovereign what becomes of the citizens in a future life, provided they discharge the duties incumbent on them in the present.

There is a profession of faith, therefore, purely political; the articles of which it is in the province of the sovereign to ascertain, not precisely as articles of religion, but as the sentiments due to society, without which it is impossible to be a good citizen or faithful subject. Without compelling any one to adopt these sentiments, the sovereign may also equitably banish him the society; not indeed as impious, but as unsociable, as incapable of having a sincere regard to justice, and of sacrificing his life, if required, to his duty. Again, should any one, after having made a public profession of such sentiments, betray his disbelief of them by his misconduct, he may be equitably be punished with death; having committed the greatest of all crimes, that of belying his heart in the face of the laws.

The tenets of political religion should be few and simple; they should be laid down also with precision, and without explication or comment. The existence of a powerful, intelligent, beneficent, prescient, and provident Deity; a future state; the reward of the virtuous, and the punishment of the wicked; the sacred nature of the social contract, and of the laws; these should be its positive tenets. As to those of a negative kind, I would confine myself solely to one, by forbidding persecution.

Those who affect to make a distinction between civil and religious toleration, are, in my opinion, mistaken. It is impossible to live cordially in peace with those whom we firmly believe devoted to damnation; to love them would be to hate the Deity for punishing them; it is therefore absolutely necessary for us either to persecute or to convert them. Wherever the spirit of religious persecution subsists, it is impossible it should not have some effect on the civil police; in which case, the sovereign is no longer sovereign even in a secular view; the priests become the real masters, and kings only their officers.

In modern governments, where it is impossible to support an exclusive national religion, it is requisite to tolerate all such as breathe the spirit of toleration toward others, provided their tenets are not contradictory to the duty of a good citizen. But whosoever should presume to say, There is no salvation out of the pale of our church, ought to be banished from the state, unless indeed the state be an ecclesiastical one, and the prince a pontiff. Such a dogma is of use only in a theocratical government; in every other it is destructive. The reason which it is said Henry IV gave for embracing the Roman Catholic religion ought to have made an honest man reject it, and more particularly a prince capable of reasoning on the subject.