HOBBES STUDIES

By

Leo Strauss A. G. Wernham A. E. Taylor Willis B. Glover Stuart M. Brown, Jr. C. B. Macpherson John Plamenatz Keith Thomas Howard Warrender J. W. N. Watkins J. R. Pennock S. Morris Engel

Mario A. Cattaneo

Edited by

K. C. Brown

OXFORD

\ \

t

I BASIL BLACKWELL

1965

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN

BY A. T. BROOME AND SON, 18 ST. CLEMENT'S, OXFORD AND BOUND BY THE KEMP HALL BINDERY, OXFORD

I

CONTENTS

FoREWORD

1. ON THE SPIRIT oF HoBBEs's PoLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, by Professor Leo Strauss University of Olicago

2. THE TAYLOR THESIS (1) INTRODUCTORY NoTE, by Professor Stuart M. Brown,

vii

1

Jr. 31 Cornell University

(2) THE ETHICAL DocTRINE OF HoBBES, by Professor A. E. T tf)llor 35

3. THE TAYLOR THESIS: SoME OBJECTioNs, by Professor Stuart M. Brown, Jr. 57

4. (1) MR. W ARRENDER'S HOBBES, by john Pfamenatz 73 Fellow of Nuffield College, Oxford

(2) A REPLY TO MR. PLAMENATZ, by Professor Howard Warrender 89 The Queen's University, Belfast

5. HoBBES's CoNFUSING 'CLARITY'-THE CAsE OF 'LIBERTY', by Professor]. R. Pennock 101 Swarthmore College

6. LIBERTY AND OBLIGATION IN HOBBES, by Professor A. G. Wernha11t 117 Aberdeen University

'X 7. Goo AND THOMAS HoBBEs, by Professor Willis B. Glover 141 Mercer University

vi C O N'I'E N'I'S

8. HOBBES's BouRGEOIS MAN, by Professor C. B. Macpherson • • . 169 University of Toronto

" 9. THE SociAL ORIGINS OF HoBBEs's PoLITICAL THOUGHT, by &ith Thomas 185 Fellow of St. John's College, Oxford

10. PHILOSOPHY AND POLITICS IN HOBBES, by j. W. N. Watkins 237 Reader in the History of Philosophy in the University of London

11. HoBBES's 'TABLE OF ABSURDITY', by Professor S. Morris Engel 263 University of Southern California

12. HoBBEs's THEORY OF PuNISHMENT, by Professor Mario A. Cattaneo .. . . .. . .. . .. .. . 275 University of Milan

APPENDIX 299

FOREWORD

All save one of the thirteen papers here collected have been written in the years since the Second World War, a period that has seen a remarkable increase of interest in the writings of Thomas Hobbes. This revolution in Hobbes studies, for that is scarcely too strong a way to describe it, now appears to have moved into a period of consolidation: a not inappropriate time, perhaps, for the publication of a collection of this kind. Even when not directly concerned with consolidation in the simplest sense, Hobbes scholars today tend to exhibit a degree and kind of involvement with the work of their recent predecessors that differs from anything to be found earlier. A lively and fruitful discussion has been in progress for a considerable time; and no one who is seriously interested in Hobbes's work can altogether avoid being affected by it, no matter how original or independent his own approach may be.

Yet the present general concern with review is by no means preventing fresh extensions of the debate. Dr. Mintz, for instance, has only recently published his study of seventeenth-century reactions to Hobbes's materialism and moral philosophy; and a new book by one of the contributors to this present volume, exploring further the still somewhat vexed question of the relationship between Hobbes's philosophical ideas and his political doctrines, will probably have appeared by the time these words are printed. Then, in the fairly near future, we may hope at last to see fuller studies published of the dis­crepancies between the English and Latin texts of some of Hobbes's major works: a task that seems to be leading to in­teresting results, and on which it was originally hoped to include a paper in this volume. These are only a small part of the work that has recently appeared, or that is afoot.

It is natural to speculate on the causes of this curious post­war surge of interest in Hobbes; though there is not the space here to develop such speculations very fully. However, one might risk the generalisation that three main factors have been involved: (1) the labours of Hobbes scholars in the nineteen­thirties, the full effect of whose work could not be seen until after the delay of the war years. (2) Certain trends in the general history of philosophy. (3) The political history of our own

viii F O R E WO R D

times. This i s not t o say, o f course, that these factors have all influenced everyone equally: an undergraduate, for instance, would not necessarily come to an interest in Hobbes by the same route as the scholars whose work he reads. Indeed at least two of the contributors to this volume were led to an interest in Hobbes partly by a prior interest in Spinoza: a kind of motive not covered by the categories just suggested.

Yet the generalisation would seem to hold, even so. In 1934, for example, Professor Laird complained (in the Foreword of his book) that he found around him an excessively low level of interest in Hobbes; and a reading of the academic journals of that time seems to justify his complaint. If within a few years the level was already rising, plainly much of the rise was due to the efforts of such scholars as Professor Laird himself, Professor A. E. Taylor-whose article 'The Ethical Doctrine of Hobbes' is reprinted here-and Professor Leo Strauss. (The latter's book, The Political Philosopf?y of Hobbes, Oxford, 1936, translated for publication from a German manuscript, is a reminder, too, that there is a debt owed by Hobbes studies to German scholarship that is at least as old as the work of T onnies, in the eighties of the last century.)

But other, less direct, influences also seem to have been at work. For one thing, it is a commonplace that Hobbes anticipates, if rather crudely, some of the insights and techniques of contem­porary linguistic philosophy; and naturally this again has helped to increase the attention paid to his thought. (Similarly, of course, his mechanistic approach to the problems of human thought, motivation and decision has its affinities with modern psychology.) Meanwhile, Marxist-influenced historians and philosophers, who have their own reasons for being interested in Hobbes, have also had their own view of him to present. And when one reads, for instance, that 'the most immediate(y strikingftature' of a certain philosophic doctrine 'was its iconoclasm, its short and apparentfy lethal wqy with the ponrlerous enigmas of metapf?ysicians' . . . and that 'To maf!Y its tight restrictive aridities seemed miraculous(y to clear the air, while to others it appeared as a blind attack on maf!Y valuable and whol(y respectable intellectual achievements . . .' one might well wonder momentarily whether the reference was to Hobbism or to Logical Positivism. Hobbes's scorn for metaphysics rings pleasantly in many modern ears.

F O R E WO R D ix

Indeed the general climate of our age has surely been extremely well suited to a growth of interest in Hobbes's work. His splendid and terrible dictum' ... in the ftrst place, I put for a general inclination of all mankind, a restless and continual rlesire of power after power, that ceaseth on(y in death; takes on a certain extra plausibility in an age that has seen-to pick only two of a multitude of illustrations -the rise and fall of the Third Reich and the evolution of the hydrogen warhead. His concern at the division of men's political loyalties, between obedience to their country's government and obedience to what they took to be the political implications of their religion, finds a parallel in our own concern at the fresh conflict in many men's minds between the claims of patriotism and those of some international ideology. And, in a time which finds highly civilized communities prepared to commit atrocities whose obscenity would have surprised the Dark Ages, it becomes less easy than it once was, perhaps, for the reader new to Hobbes's work to jump to the conclusion that it is discredited from the outset by a too cynical and pessimistic view of human nature. The present time also is one in which the world appears to be dramatising in inter-national terms the story which Hobbes himself told in inter-personal terms : every line of the past twenty years' debate on the difficulties of turning the United Nations into an effective instrument of World government could stand as a gloss upon Hobbes's text. Nor is it very surprising that one should nowadays find Leviathan invoked (as a symbol for the power of the modern State) even in the editorial columns of popular newspapers, relatively few of whose readers are ever likely to have heard of Hobbes himself; for it is an image brought vividly to life by ever-mounting encroachments by the State on the sphere of action of the private individual. It is true that the Leviathan of the editorial columns does not always seem to be quite the creature that Hobbes himself had in mind, but its antecedents remain clear enough, nonetheless.

To speak of 'bringing images to life', however, is perhaps to move from history and political philosophy into literary criticism; and when discussing Hobbes the move is certainly legitimate. His achievement, at least in Leviathan, is unmistakably a literary as well as a philosophical one: it is perhaps not re­membered often enough, in fact, that he was a contemporary of the Metaphysical poets and the great seventeenth-century sermon-

X FOREWORD

writers. Yet his style proclaims it. The now classic comment on a Metaphysical poet, that 'a thought to him was an experience, it modified his sensibilf!y', applies as well to Hobbes as to any of the poets he outlived. His thought forms readily into images that are not merely adequate emblems of elements in his argument, but possess a striking extra vitality of their own. The mind seen as a spaniel ranging a field, the crowned ghost enthroned upon its grave, men 'tired of irregular jostling and hewing one another', the Kingdom of Fairies, the man 'entangled in words, like a bird in lime-twigs', the uncomfortably vivid description of the state of nature, the great extended metaphor of Leviathan itself: such images are apt to arouse in the mind of the reader responses in excess of the strict require­ments of Hobbes's argument; but responses which have perhaps contributed something, at least, to the growth of interest in his work as a whole. This is not to suggest that there has lately been some kindly move afoot to have a closer look at Hobbes's ideas just because he does, after all, write rather attractively: the contents of this volume could not really be mistaken for the fruits of a 'casual aestheticism. Nevertheless, it would seem fair to say that the sensibility of many early and mid-seven­teenth-century writers does appear to be unexpectedly well attuned to that of our own day; and among the names of these writers must be included that of Thomas Hobbes.

Lastly, something should perhaps be said about the selection and arrangement of material in this volume. In no case has permission to print already-published material been refused: a piece of good fortune for which the editor is grateful. This does not mean, however, that he has been able to reprint everything he would have wished; for a collection of this kind can only be a compromise, necessarily involving sacrifices. The main aim has been to give some idea of the shape and 'feel' of the post­war debate on Hobbes, and to illustrate some of the different kindr of attention that his work has attracted. Hobbes is unusual among the older British philosophers in that there is still persistent and drastic disagreement, not simply about the validity and signi­ficance of his theories, but also about what he actually meant his theory to be in the first place; and while this basic problem of interpretation persists in Hobbes studies, it is surely even more

FOREWORD xi

than usually important to prevent the partitiOns between. the various academic disciplines becoming too opaque. No apology is offered, therefore, for presenting side by side in this volume papers often originally intended for very dissimilar audiences. On the other hand, limitations of space have made it impossible to represent the full spectrum of Hobbes studies: there is, for instance, no theologian here to enlarge upon the view, quoted by Professor Glover, that Hobbes 'practised theology at its scholarly

' best'; there is nothing from any of the literary journals (though the interested reader can find references which will direct him to them); and there is no discussion of Hobbes's theory from the point of view of the modern psychologist (although this is a perhaps more justifiable omission, since Professor Peters' study of Hobbes in the Pelican Philosophy Series is so widely available). Further omissions have been enforced by the need to give the book some sort of balance and coherence, for it would have been misleading to linger too long on any one issue; and the same requirements have also prevented the arrangement of the papers in strict chronological order�something which it is realised that some readers may regret. No doubt regret will be felt, too, at the absence of certain names from the list of contributors : perhaps especially that of Professor Oakeshott. But one could not, for example, have included his long Introduction to Leviathan in a volume of this kind, and in any case no one reading this book is likely to be left unaware that Professor Oakeshott has been an influence on Hobbes studies since the war. A similar defence can be offered in the case of other omissions. But defence is surely unnecessary: all that is claimed is that each of the papers here collected is worthwhile reading for its own sake, that they are drawn from a wider range of publications than is available in many libraries (while two of them have in fact never before been published), and that collectively they offer a reasonably fair guide to the now populous field of Hobbes studies.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank the authors of the papers printed or reprinted here both for consenting to the publication of their work in this volume and for the very helpful interest which they have shown in the whole project. An exception occurs, however, in Chapter 2, Section ii: where, sadly, my obligation must instead be to the author's Literary Executor, Mr. F. E. A. Taylor.

I would also like to thank the editors and publishers who have given permission to republish material first issued by them. Chapter 1 is taken from Prof. Strauss's book Natural Right and History, published in 1953 by the Chicago University Press. Chapter 2, Section ii, first appeared in Philosophy, 1938. Chapter 3 appeared in The Philosophical Review for 1959 (and Chapter 11 in the same Review, in 1961). Both parts of Chapter 4 appeared in Political Studies, in 1957 and 1960, respectively. Chapter 5 was originally published in The American Political Science Review for 1960; while in the same year Church History published Chapter 7. Chapter 8 first appeared in The Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science for 1945, under the title 'Hobbes Today'. Chapter 10 is a slightly revised version of an article published in The PhilosophicalQuarter!J in 1955; and Chapter 12 is a translation of an article which appeared in the Italian journal jus in 1960. The further permission of the Clarendon Press was required for reproduction of the articles from Political Studies.

I hope the many others who have helped or encouraged the preparation of this volume will forgive me if I thank especially Professor Stuart Hampshire, Professor John Chapman, and Professor Norberto Bobbio.

K.C.B.

NOTE

The abbreviations E. W. and L. W. used in most chapters of this book refer, respectively, to The English Works of Thomas Hobbes, edited by Sir William Molesworth, London, 1839-45 (1 1 vols.), and to Thomae Hobbes, Malmesburiensis, Opera Philosophica, again edited by Sir William Molesworth, London, 1 839-45 (5 vols.)

In the case of LEVIATHAN (E. W. III), however, some contri-butors refer instead to Prof. Oakeshott's edition of the 'Black­well's Political Texts' series. This edition will be cited as 'Leviathan' or 'Lev'.

At the back of this book will be found an index to the Parts and chapters of LEVIATHAN giving page references to the Moles­worth and Oakeshott editions side by side.

The abbreviation 'Elements', which also is used by many contributors, refers to The Elements of Law, Natural and Politic, edited by F. Tennies, Cambridge, 1928.

I

ON THE SPIRIT OF HOBBES'S POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY

Leo Strauss

THOMAS HOBBES regarded himself as the founder of political philosophy or political science. He knew, of course,

that the great honour which he claimed for himself was awarded, by almost universal consent, to Socrates. Nor was he allowed to forget the notorious fact that the tradition which Socrates had originated was still powerful in his own age. But he was certain that traditional political philosophy 'was rather a dream than science'.1

Present-day scholars are not impressed by Hobbes's claim.' They note that he was deeply indebted to the tradition which he scorned. Some of them come close to suggesting that he was one of the last Schoolmen. Lest we overlook the wood for the trees, we shall reduce for a while the significant results of present­day polymathy into the compass of one sentence. Hobbes was indebted to tradition for a single, but momentous, idea: he accepted on trust the view that political philosophy or political science is possible or necessary.

To understand Hobbes's astonishing claitn means to pay proportionate attention to his emphatic rejection of the tradition, on the one hand, and to his almost silent agreement with it, on the other. For this purpose one must first identify the tradition. More precisely, one must first see the tradition as Hobbes saw it and forget for a moment how it presents itself to the present-day historian. Hobbes mentions the following representatives of the tradition by name: Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, Seneca, Tacitus, and Plutarch.2 He then tacitly identifies the tradition of political philosophy with a particular tradition. He identifies it with that tradition whose basic premises may be stated as follows: the noble and the just are fundamentally distinguished from the

1 Elements of Ltnv, Ep. ded.; I, 1, sec. 1; 13, sec. 3, and 17, sec. 1. De Corpore, Ep. ded.; De Cive, Ep. ded. and praef.; L.W. I, p. xc. Leviathan, XXXI (p. 241) and XLVI (p. 438).

2 De Cive, praef., and XII, 3; L.W. V, pp. 358-59. B

2 L E O STR A U SS

pleasant and are by nature preferable to it; or, there is a natural right that is wholly independent of any human compact or convention; ?r, the�e is a best polit�cal order which is best because it

.is accordll;g to nature. · He identifies traditional political

philoso�hy wtth. the quest for the best regime or for the simply JUSt soctal order, and therefore with a pursuit that is political not merely because it deals with political matters but, above all because it is animated by a political spirit. He identifies traditionai p�li�ical philosophy with that particular tradition that was public sr:11'1ted

. or�to ��ploy a term w�ch is loose indeed but at present

still easily mtelligtble-that was '1dealistic'. ·· When speaking of earlier political philosophers, Hobbes does

n<:t mention that tradition whose most famous representatives rmght be thought to be 'the sophists', Epicurus and Carneades. The anti-idealistic tradition simply did not exist for him-as a �adition of.I:olitical

.philosophy. For it was ignorant of the very

1dea of polittcal philosophy as Hobbes understood it. It ·was ind

.eed .concerned with the nature of political things and especially

<:f JUSt1ce ..

It .w�s also concerned with the question of the right life of the mdivtdual and therefore with the question of whether or ��w the individual could use civil society for his private, non­po�r:cal purposes: for his ease or for his glory. But it was not p�littcal: It was . not public spirited. It did not ·preserve the orrentatwn of statesmen while enlarging their views. It was not dedicated to the concern with the right order of society as with something that ir choiceworthy for its own sake.

. B_Y �acitly ��entifying traditional political philosophy with the

1dealist1c traditwn, ·Hobbes expresses, then, his tacit agreement wi�h the ideali�tic v�ew of the function or the scope of political philosophy. L1ke Cicero before him, he sides with Cato against C�rne�des. H� prese�ts his novel doctrine as the first truly soentlfic or philosophic treatment of natural law; he agrees with �e Socratic tradition in holding the view that political philosophy 1s concerned with naturhl right. He intends to show 'what is law, as Plato, Aristotle, Cicero, and divers others have done'; he does not refer to Protagoras, Epicurus, or Carneades. He fears that his Leviathan might remind his readers of Plato's Republic; no one could dream of comparing the Leviathan to Lucretius' De rerum natura. 3

8 Elements, Ep. ded.; Leviathan, XV (pp. 94-95) XXVI (p 172) XXXI (p 241) and XL VI (pp. 437-38).

' . ' . '

/·· THE SPIRIT O F H O B BE S'S P O LITIC A L P HI L O S O P H Y 3

Hobbes rejects the idealistic tradition on the basis of a funda­mental agreement with it. He means to do adequately what the Socratic tradition did in a wholly inadequate manner. He means to succeed where the Socratic tradition had failed. He traces the failure of the idealistic tradition to one fundamental mistake: traditional political philosophy assumed that man is by nature a political or social animal. By rejecting this assumption, Hobbes joins the Epicurean tradition. He accepts its view that man is by nature or originally an a-political and even an a-social animal, as well as its premise that the good is fundamentally identical with the pleasant. 4 But he uses that a-political view for a political purpose. He gives that a�political view a pC.llitical meaning. He tries to instil the spirit of political idealism into the hedonistic tradition. He thus became the creator of political ·hedonism, a doctrine which has revolutionized human life everywhere on a scale never yet approached by any other teaching.

The epoch-making change which we are forced to trace to Hobbes was well understood by Edmund Burke: 'Boldness formerly was not the character of atheists as such. They were even.of a character nearly the reverse; they were formerly like the old Epicureans, rather an unenterprising race. But of late they are grown active, designing, turbulent, and seditious.'li Political atheism is a distinctly modem phenomenon. No pre-modem atheist doubted that social life requires belief in, and worship of, God or gods. If we do not permit ourselves to be deceived by ephemeral phenomena, we realize that political atheism and political hedonism belong together. They arose together in the, same moment and in the same mind.

For in trying to understand Hobbes's political philosophy we must not lose sight of his natural philosophy. His natural philosophy is of the type classically represented by Democritean­Epicurean physics. Yet he regarded, not Epicurus or Democritus,

4 De Cive,, I, 2; Leviathan, VI (p. 33). Hobbes speaks more emphatically of self-preservation than of pleasure and thus seems to be closer to the Stoics than to the Epicureans. Hobbes's reason for putting the emphasis on self-preservation is that pleasure is an 'appearance' whose underlying reality is 'only motion' whereas self-preservation belongs to the sphere not only of 'appearance' but of •U:otion' as well (cf. Spinoza, Ethics, III, 9 schol. and 11 schoL). Hobbes's emphasizing self­preservation rather than pleasure is then due to his notion of nature or of natural science and has therefore an entirely different motivation than the seemingly identical Stoic view.

'Thoughts on French Affair.r, in Works ofEdmtmd Burke('Bohn's Standard Library•. Vol. III), p. 377.

4 LEO STRAUSS

but Plato, as 'the best of the ancient philosophers'. What he learned from Plato's natural philosophy was not that the universe cannot be understood if it is not ruled by divine intelligence. Whatever may have been Hobbes's private thoughts, his natural philosophy is as atheistic as Epicurean physics. What he learned from Plato's natural philosophy was that mathematics is 'the mother of all natural science'.6 By being both mathematical and materialistic-mechanistic, Hobbes's natural philosophy is a combination of Platonic physics and Epicurean physics. From his point of view, pre-modern philosophy or science as a whole was 'rather a dream than science' precisely because it did not think of that combination. His philosophy as a whole may be said to be the classic example of the typically modem combination of political idealism with a materialistic and atheistic view of the whole.

Positions that are originally incompatible with one another can be combined in two ways. The first way is the eclectic compromise which remains on the same plane as the original positions. The other way is the synthesis which becomes possible through the transition of thought from the plane of the original positions to an entirely different plane. The combination effected by Hobbes is a synthesis. He may or may not have been aware that he was, in fact, combining two opposed traditions. He was fully aware that his thought presupposed a radical break with all traditional thought, or the abandonment of the plane on which 'Platonism' and 'Epicureanism' had carried on their secular struggle.

Hobbes, as well as his most illustrious contemporaries, was overwhelmed or elated by a sense of the complete failure of traditional philosophy. A glance at present and past controversies sufficed to convince them that philosophy, or the quest for wisdom, had not succeeded in transforming itself into wisdom. This overdue transformation was now to be effected. To succeed where tradition had failed, one has to start with reflections on the conditions which have to be fulfilled if wisdom is to become actual: one has to start with reflections on the right method. The purpose of these reflections was to guarantee the actualization of wisdom.

6Ltviathan, XLVI (p. 438); E.W. VII, p. 346.

T H E SPIR I T OF H O B B E S'

S POLI T I C AL PHIL O S OP H Y 5 The failure of traditional philosophy showed itself most

clearly in the fact that dogmatic philosophy had always been accompanied, as by its shadow, by skeptical philosophy. Dogmat­ism had never yet succeeded in overcorriing skepticism once and for all. To guarantee the actualization of wisdom means to eradicate skepticism by doing justice to the truth embodied irt skepticism. For this purpose, one must first give free rein to extreme skepticism: what survives the onslaught of extreme skepticism is the absolutely safe basis of wisdom. The actualiza­tion of wisdom is identical with the erection of an absolutely dependable dogmatic edifice on the foundation of extreme skepticism. 7

The experiment with extreme skepticism was then guided by the anticipation of a new type of dogmatism. Of all known scientific pursuits, mathematics alone had been successful. The new dogmatic philosophy must therefore be constructed on the pattern of mathematics. The mere fact that the only certain knowledge which was available is not concerned with ends but �consists in comparing figures and motions only' created a pre­judice against any teleological view or a prejudice in favour of a mechanistic view. 8 It is perhaps more accurate to say that it strengthened a prejudice already in existence. For it is probable that what was foremost in Hobbes's mind was the vision, not of a new type of philosophy or science, but of a universe that is nothing but bodies and their aimless motions. The failure of the predominant philosophic tradition could be traced directly to the difficulty with which every teleological physics is beset, and the suspicion arose quite naturally that, owing to social pressures of various kinds, the mechanistic view had never been given a fair chance to show its virtues. But precisely if Hobbes was primarily interested in a mechanistic view, he was inevitably led, as matters stood, to the notion of a dogmatic philosophy based on extreme skepticism. For he had learned from Plato or Aristotle that if the universe has the character ascribed to it by Demo­critean-Epicurean physics, it excludes the possibility of any physics, of· any science, or, in other words, that consistent materialism necessarily culminates in skepticism. . 'Scientific

7 Compare Hobbes's agreement with the thesis of Descartes's first Meditation. s Elements, Ep. ded., and I, 13, sec. 4; De Cive, Ep. ded.; Leviathan, XI (p. 68);

cf. Spinoza, Ethics, I, Appendix. )

6 L E O S T R AUSS

materialism' could not become possible if one did not first �ucceed in guaranteeing the possibility of science ag�st the skepticism engendered by materialism. Onl� the antlctpatory revolt against a materialistically understood untvers� could make possible a science of such a universe. One had to discover o� to invent an island that would be exempt from the flux of mecharucal causation. Hobbes had to consider the possibility of a natural island. An incorporeal mind was out of the question. On the other hand, what he had learned from Plato and Aristotle made him realize somehow that the corporeal mind, composed of very smooth and round particles, with which Epicurus remained satisfied, was an inadequate solution. He was force? t? ":onder whether the universe did not leave room for an arttfiaahsland, for. an island to be created by science. .

The solution was suggested by the fact that mathemattcs, :he model of the new philosophy, was itself exposed to skeptt�al attack and proved capable of resisting it by undergoing

. a specific

transformation or interpretation. To 'avoid the cavils of the skeptics' at 'that so much renowned evidence of geometry.: · · I thought it necessary in my definitions to express those mottons by which lines, superficies, solids, and figures, were draw? and described'. Generally stated, we have absolutely certain or scientific knowledge only of those subjects of which we are the causes or whose construction is in our own power or depends on our a;bitrary will. The construction would not �e fully i� our power if there were· a single step of the constructl<:�n that 1s not fully exposed to our supervision. The constructt?n �ust be conscious construction; it is impossible to know a sc1ent1fic truth without knowing at the same time that we have made it. The con.struction would not be fully in our power if it made use of any matter, i.e., of anything that is not itself our construct. The world of our constructs is wholly unenigmatic because we are its sole cause and hence we have perfect knowledge of its cause. The cause of the world of our constructs does not have a further cause, a cal;lse that is not, or not fully, within our power; �e �orld of our constructs has an absolute beginning or is a creation 10

. the

strict sense. The. world of our constructs is therefore the destred island that is exempt from the flux of blind and aimless causation. 9

'E.W. VII, pp. 179 ff.; De Romine, X, 4-5; De Cwe, XVIII� 4, 3lnd XVII, 28; J:?e C111'port, XXV, 1; Elements, ed. TOru!ies, p. 168; fourth obJectton to Descartes s

THE SPIRIT OF HOBBES'S POLITICAL PHILO S OPHY 7 The discovery or invention of that island seemed to· guarantee the possibility of a materialistic and mechanistic philosop�y

.or scier:ce�

without forcing one to assume a soul or rmnd that ts lrteductble to moved matter. That discovery or invention eventually per­mitted an attitude of rteutrality or indifference toward the seculat conflict between materialism and spiritualism. Hobbes had the earnest desire to be a 'metaphysical' materialist. But he was forced to rest satisfied with a 'methodical' materialism;

We understand only what we make. Since we do not make the natural beings, they are, strictly speaking, unintelligible. Accord­ing to Hobbes, this fact is perfectly compatible with the possibility of natural scierice. But it leads to the consequence that natural science is and will always remain fundamentally hypothetical. Yet this is all we need in order to make ourselves masters and owners of nature. Still, however much man may succeed in his conquest of nature, he will never be able to understand nature. The universe will always remain wholly enigmatic. It is this fact that ultimately accounts for the persistence of skepticism and justifies skepticism to a certain extent. Skepticism is the inevitable outcome of the unintelligible character of the universe or of the unfounded belief in its intelligibility. In other words, since natural things are, as such, mysterious, the knowledge or certainty engendered by nature necessarily lacks evidence. Knowledge based on the natural working of the human mind is necessarily exposed to doubt. For this reason Hobbes parts compa�y ":ith pre-modern nominalism in particular. Pre-modern nominalism Meditations. The difficulty to which Hobbes's view of science is exposed is indicated by the fact that as he says, all philosophy or science 'weaves consequences' (cf, Leviathan, IX) �hile taking its �?egim:ing from 'experiences' (De ,Cive_, XVII, 12), i.e., that philosophy or science ts ultm�ately dependent ?Il: wh�t 1.s gtven and not constructed. Hobbes tried to solve this dtfficulty by dtsttnguts�mg between �e sciences proper, which are purely constructive or demonstrative (mathematics, cinematics, and political sciences), and physics, ".'hicb h.as a lower status :han the former (De C(Jf'pore, XXV, 1; De Romine, ?C• 5). Thts solution creates a new diffic;u!f¥, since politica} science presupposes. t�e sctenttfic ;;tudy of the �ature of�· whtcb lS a partofphystcs(LEVIATHAN, chap.1x 1n both.verSlon�; De Ro�me, Ep. ded._, De Corpore, VI, 6). Hobbes apparently tried to solve thiS J?-t;W difficulty m the followtng mann.er: it is possible to know the causes of the polmcal phenomena both by desce��ng from the more general phenomena (the nature of motion, the nature of llvmg beings, the nature of roan) to those causes and by ascending from .the political phenomena themselves, as they are known to everyone �rom experience, t� �e saine causes (De Corpore; VI, 7). A� any r�te, H�bbes ,emp�at�callJ: stated that political sciepce may be based 0n, or conSlst of; expertence as �hstmgu1shed from demon­str;�tions' (De Homine, Ep. ded.; De Cive, praef.; Levtatban, Introd. and XXXII, ht!glnning). ·

8 LEO STRAUSS

had faith in the natural worlcing of the human mind. It showed this faith especially by teaching that natura occulte operatur in flfliversalibm, or that the 'anticipations' by virtue of which we take our bearings in ordinary life and in science are products of nature. For Hobbes, the natural origin of the universals or of the anticipa­tions was a compelling reason for abandoning them in favour of artificial 'intellectual tools'. There is no natural harmony between the human mind and the universe.

Man can guarantee the actualization of wisdom, since wisdom is identical with free construction. But wisdom cannot be free construction if the universe is intelligible. Man can guarantee the actualization of wisdom, not in spite of, but because of, the fact that the universe is unintelligible. Man can be sovereign only because there is no cosmic support for his humanity. He can be sovereign only because he is absolutely a stranger in the universe. He can be sovereign only because he is forced to be sovereign. Since the universe is unintelligible and since control of nature does not require understanding of nature, there are no knowable limits to his conquest of nature. He has nothing to lose but his chains, and, for all he knows, he may have everything to gain. Still, what is certain is that man's natural state is misery; the vision of the City of Man to be erected on the ruins of the City of God is an unsupported hope.

It is hard for us to understand bow Hobbes could be so hopeful where there was so much cause for despair. Somehow the f!Xperience, as well as the legitimate anticipation, of unheard of progress within the sphere which is subject to human control must have made him insensitive to 'the eternal silence of those infinite spaces' or to the craclcings of the moenia mundi. In fairness to him, one must add that the long series of disappointments which subsequent generations experienced have not yet succeeded in extinguishing the hope which he, together with his most �ustrious contemporaries, kindled. Still less have they succeeded in breaking down the walls which he erected as if in order to limit his vision. The conscious constructs have indeed been replaced by the unplanned worlcings of 'History.' But 'History' limits our vision in exactly the same way in which the conscious constructs limited the vision of Hobbes: 'History,' too, fulfils the function of enhancing the status of man and of his 'world'

THE SPIRIT OF HOBBES'S P OLITICAL PHILOSOPHY 9

by making him oblivious of the whole or of eternity.1o In its final stage the typically modern limitation expresses itself in the suggestion that the highest principle, which, as such, has no relation to any possible cause or causes of the whole, is the mysterious ground of 'History' and, being wedded to man and to man alone, is so far from being eternal that it is coeval with human history.

To return to Hobbes, his notion of philosophy or science has its root in the conviction that a teleological cosmology is impos­sible and in the feeling that a mechanistic cosmology fails to satisfy the requirement of intelligibility. His solution is that the end or the ends without which no phenomenon can be understood need not be inherent in the phenomena; the end inherent in the concern with knowledge suffices. Knowledge as the end supplies the indispensable teleological principle. Not the new mechanistic cosmology but what later on came to be called 'epistemology' becomes the substitute for teleological cosmology. But know­ledge cannot remain the end if the whole is simply unintelligible: Scientia propter potentiam.11 All intelligibility or all meaning has its ultimate root in human needs. The end, or the most compelling end posited by human desire, is the highest principle, the organiz­ing principle. But if the human good becomes the highest principle, political science or social science becomes the most

lo Two quotations taken from authors who belong to opposed camps but to the same spiritual family may serve as illustrations. We read in Friedrich Engels' Ludwig Feuerbach und der Ausgang der deutschen klassischen Philosophic: 'nichts besteht vor [der dialektischen Philosophic] als der ununterbrochene Prozess des Werdens und Vergehens, des Aufsteigens ohne Ende vom Niedern zum Hohern .... Wir brauchen hier nicht auf die Frage einzugehn, ob diese Anschauungsweise durchaus mit dem jetzigen Stand der Naturwissenschaft stimmt, die der Existenz der Erde selbst ein mogliches, ihrer Bewohnbarkeit aber ein ziemlich sicberes Ende vorhersagt, die also auch der Menschengeschichte nicht nur einen aufsteigenden, sondern auch einen abstelgenden Ast zuerkennt. Wir befinden uns jedenfalls noch zeimlich weit vandem Wendepunkt'. We read in J. J. Baehofen's Die Sage wn Tanaquil: 'Der Orient huldigt dem Naturstandpunkt, der Occident ersetzt ihn durch den geschichtlichen . . • Man konnte sich versucht fiihlen, in dieser Unterordnung der giJtflichen tmler die mm­rcbliche Idee die letzte Stufe des Abfalls von einem friiheren erhabeneren Standpunkte zu erkennen . • • . Und dennoch enthalt dieser Riickgang den Keirn zu einem sehr wichtigen Fortschritt. Denn als solchen haben wir jede Befreiung unseres Geistes aus den liihmenden Fesseln einer kosmischphysischen Lebensbetrachtung anzusehen. • . . Wenn der Etrusker bekiimmerten Sinnes an die Endlichkeit seines Stammes glaubt, so freut der Romer sich der Ewigkeit seines Staates, an 'll'elcher zu ZJJ!eifeln er gar nicht fiihig ist '. (The italics are not in the originals.)

11 De Corpore, I, 6. The abandonment of the primacy of contemplation or theory in favour of the primacy of practice is the necessary consequence of the abandon­ment of the plane on which Platonism and Epicureanism had carried on their struggle. For the synthesis of Platonism and Epicureanism stands or falls with the view that to understand is to make.

10 LEO STitA U S S

important kind of knowledge, as Aristotle had predicted. In the words of Hobbes, Dignissima certe scientiarum haec ipsa est, quae ad Principes pertinet, homines que in regendo genere humano occupatos .12

One cannot leave it, then, at saying that Hobbes agrees with the idealistic tradition in regard to the function and scope of political philosophy. His expectation from political philosophy is incom­parably greater than the expectation of the classics. No Scipionic dream illumined by a true vision of the whole reminds his readers of the ultimate futility of all that men can do. Of political philo­sophy thus understood, Hobbes is indeed the founder.

It was Machiavelli, that greater Columbus, who had discovered the continent on which Hobbes could erect his structure. When trying to understand the thought of Machiavelli, one does well to remember the saying that Marlowe was inspired to ascribe to him: 'I . . . hold there is no sin but ignorance.' This is almost a definition of the philosopher. Besides, no one of consequence ever doubted that Machiavelli's study of political matters was public spirited. Being a public spirited philosopher, he continued the tradition of political idealism. But he combined the idealistic. view of the intrinsic nobility of statesmanship with an anti­idealistic view, if not of the whole, at any rate of the origins of mankind or of civil society.

Machiavelli's admiration for the political practice of classical antiquity and especially of republican Rome is only the reverse side of his rejection of classical political philosophy. He rejected classical political philosophy, and therewith the whole tradition of political philosophy in the full sense of the term, as useless: Classical political philosophy had taken its bearings by how man o

.ught to live; the correct way of answering the question of the

rtght order of society consists in taking one's bearings by how men_

.actually do live. Machiavelli's 'realistic' revolt against

t�aditwn led to the substitution of patriotism or merely political v�rtue for human excellence or, more particularly, for moral vtrtue and the contemplative life. It entailed a deliberate lowering of the ultimate goal. The goal was lowered in order to increase the probability of its attainment. Just as Hobbes later on aban­doned the original meaning of wisdom in order to guarantee the actualization of wisdom, Machiavelli abandoned the original

12 Aristotle f:Jicomachean Ethics 1 141•20-22; De cive, praef.; cf. L. W. IV, pp. 487-88: the only serious part of philosophy is political philosophy.

T H E S P I R IT O F H O'B BES ' S POLIT I C A L P H I L O S O P H Y 11

meaning of the good society or of the good life. What would happen to those natural inclinations of man or of the human soul whose demands simply transcend the lowered goal was of no concern to Machiavelli. He disregarded those inclinations. He limited his horizon in order to get results. And as for the power of chance, Fortuna appeared to him in the shape of a woman who can be forced by the right kind of men: chance can be conquered.

Machiavelli justified his demand for a 'realistic' political philosophy by reflections on the foundations of civil society, and this means ultimately by reflections on the whole within which man lives. There is no superhuman, no natural, support for justice. All human things fluctuate too much to permit their subjection to stable principles of justice. Necessity rather than moral purpose determines what is in each case the sensible course of action. Therefore, civil society cannot even aspire to be simply just. All legitimacy has its root in illegitimacy; all social or moral orders have been established with the help of morally questionable means; civil society has its root not in justice but in injustice. The founder of the most renowned of all common­wealths was a fratricide. Justice in any sense is possible only after a social order has been established; justice in any sense is possible only within a man-made order. Yet the founding of civil society, the supreme case in politics, is imitated, within civil society, in all extreme cases. Machiavelli takes his bearings not so much by how men live as by the extreme case. He believes that the extreme case is more revealing of the roots of civil society and therefore of its true character than is the normal caseP The root or the efficient cause takes the place of the end or of the purpose.

It was the difficulty implied in the substitution of merely political virtue for moral virtue or the difficulty implied in Machiavelli's admiration for the lupine policies of republican Rome14 that induced Hobbes to attempt the restoration of the moral principles of politics, i.e., of natural law, on the plane of Machiavelli's 'realism'. In making this attempt he was mindful of the fact that man cannot guarantee the actualization of the right social order if he does not have certain or exact or scientific knowledge of both the right social order and the conditions of its actualization. He attempted, therefore, in the first place a rigorous

�: Cf. B�con, Advancement of Learning ('Everyman's Library' ed.), pp. 70-71. De Czve, Ep. ded.

12 LEO S T R A U S S

deduction of the natural or moral law. To 'avoid the cavils of the skeptics', natural law had to be made independent of any natural 'anticipations' and therefore of the consensus gentium.l0 The pre­dominant tradition had defined natural law with a view to the end or the perfection of man as a rational and social animal. What Hobbes attempted to do on the basis of Machiavelli's fundamental objection to the utopian teaching of the tradition, although in opposition to Machiavelli's own solution, was to maintain the idea of natural law but to divorce it from the idea of man's per­fection ; only if natural law can be deduced from how men actually live, from the most powerful force that actually determines all men, or most men most of the time, can it be effectual or of practical value. The complete basis of natural law must be sought, not in the end of man, but in his beginnings,16 in the prima natttrae or, rather, in the primum naturae. What is most powerful in most men most of the time is not reason but passion. Natural law will not be effectual if its principles are distrusted by passion or are not agreeable to passion.17 Natural law must be deduced from the most powerful of all passions.

But the most powerful of all passions will be a natural fact, and we are not to assume that there is a natural support for justice or for what is human in man. Or is there a passion, or an object of passion, which is in a sense antinatural, which marks the point of indifference between the natural and the non­natural, which is, as it were, the status evanescendi of nature and therefore a possible origin for the conquest of nature or for freedom ? The most powerful of all passions is the fear of death and, more particularly, the fear of violent death at the hands of others : not nature but 'that terrible enemy of nature, death', yet death insofar as man can do something about it, i.e., death insofar as it can be avoided or avenged, supplies the ultimate guidance.18

15 Ibid., II, 1 . 16 In the alternative title of the Leviathan (The Matter, Form, and Power of a Common­

wealth) the end is not mentioned. See also what Hobbes says about his method in the Preface to De Cive. He claims that he deduced the end from the beginning. In fact, however, he takes the end for granted; for he discovers the beginning by analyzing human nature and human affairs with that end (peace) in view (cf. De Ciue, I, 1, and Leviathan, XI beginning). Similarly, in his analysis of right or justice, Hobbes takes for granted the generally accepted view of justice (De Civc, Ep. ded.).

17 Elements, Ep. ded. 18 Jbid., I, 14, sec. 6; De Cive, Ep. ded., I, 7, and III, 31 ; Leviathan, XIV

(p. 92) XXVII (p. 197). One would have to start from here in order to understand the role of the detective story in present-day moral orientation.

T H E S P I R I T O F H O B B E S'

S P OL I T I C A L P H I L O S O P H Y 13 Death takes the place of the telos. Or, to preserve the ambiguity of Hobbes's thought, let us say that the fear of violent death expresses most forcefully the most powerful and the most fundamental of all natural desires, the initial desire, the desire for self-preservation.

If, then, natural law must be deduced from the desire for self­preservation, if, in other words, the desire for self-preservation is the sole root of all justice and morality, the fundamental moral fact is not a duty but a right ; all duties are derivative from the fundamental and inalienable right of self-preservation. There are, then, no absolute or unconditional duties ; duties are binding only to the extent to which their performance does not endanger our self-preservation. Only the right of self-preservation is uncon­ditional or absolute. By nature, there exists only a perfect right and no perfect duty. The law of nature, which formulates man's natural duties, is not a law, properly speaking. Since the funda­mental and absolute moral fact is a right and not a duty, the function as well as the limits of civil society must be defined in terms of man's natural right and not in terms of his natural duty. The state has the function, not of producing or promoting a virtuous life, but of safeguarding the natural right of each. And the power of the state finds its absolute limit in that natural right and in no other moral fact.I9 If we may call liberalism that political doctrine which regards as the fundamental political fact the rights, as distinguished from the duties, of man and which identifies the function of the state with the protection or the safeguarding of those rights, we must say that the founder of liberalism was Hobbes.

By transplanting natural law on the plane of Machiavelli, Hobbes certainly originated an entirely new type of political doctrine. The premodern natural law doctrines taught the duties of man ; if they paid any attention at all to his rights, they con­ceived of them as essentially derivative from his duties. As has frequently been observed, in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries a much greater emphasis was put on rights than ever had been done before. One may speak of a shift of emphasis from natural duties to natural rights. 20 But quantitative

19 De Cive, II, 10 end, 18-19; III, 14, 21, 27 and annot., 33; VI, 13; XIV, 3; Leviathan, XIV (p. 84, pp. 86-87), XXI (pp. 142-43), XXVIII (p. 202), and XXXII (p. 243).

2° Cf. Otto von Gierke, The Development of Political Theory (New York, 1939), pp. 108, 322, 352; and J. N. Figgis, The Divine Right of Kings (2nd ed. ; Cambridge:

14 LEO S T R AU S S

changes of this character become intelli/?iibl� only when they are seen against the background of a qualitative and fundamental change, not to say that such quantitative changes always become possible only by virtue of a qualitative a�d fundamental ch�nge. The fundamental change from an orientation by natural duties to an orientation by natural rights finds its clearest and most telling expression in the teaching of Hob�es, who squarely �ade an unconditional natural right the basts of all natural dutles, the duties being therefore only conditional. He is the classi� and the founder of the specifically modern natural law doctr�ne. The profound change under consideration can be traced d�rec

.tly to

Hobbes's concern with a human guaranty for the actualizatwn of the right social order or to ?is 'realisti�' intention. Th� actu�liz�­tion of a social order that 1s defined 1n terms of man s duttes 1s necessarily uncertain and even improbable; such an order m�y well appear to be utopian. Quite different is the case of a s?c1al order that is defined in terms of the rights of man. For the nghts in question express, and are meant to express, something that everyone actually desires anyway ; they hallow everyon�'s self­interest as everyone sees it or can easily be brought to see tt. Men can more safely be depended upon to fight for their rights than to fulfil their duties. In the words of Burke : 'The little catechism of the rights of men is soon learned ; and the inferences are in the passions.'21 With regard to Hobbes's cl�ssic formul�tion, v:e add that the premises already are in the passtons. What 1s requued to make modern natural right effective is enlightenment or propa­ganda rather than moral appeal. From this we may understand the frequently observed fact that during the modern pe�iod natural law became much more of a revolutionary force than lt had been in the past. This fact is a direct consequence of

. the

. fundamental

change in the character of the natural law doctnne itself. The tradition which Hobbes opposed had assumed that man

cannot reach the perfection of his nature except in and through civil society and, therefore, that civil society is prior to the individual. It was this assumption which led to the view that the primary moral fact is duty and not rights. One could not assert At the University Press, 1934), pp. 221-23. For Kant it is already

_ a ques�ion why

moral philosophy is called the doctrine of duties and not the doctnnc of rtghts (see Metap/;ysik der Sitten, ed. Vorlaender, p. 45).

21 Thoughts on French Affairs, p. 367.

THE S PIRIT OF HOB BES'S P OLITICAL PHILOS OPHY 15

the primacy of natural rights without assertin? that the. i�divi�ual

iSin every respect prior to civil society : all nghts of ctvtl soc1ety or of the sovereign are derivative from rights which originally belonged to the individual.22 The indivjdual as sue�, the individual regardless of his qualities-and not merely, as Anstotle had contended, the man who · surpasses humanity-had to be conceived of as essentially complete independently of civil society. This conception is implied in the contention that there is a state of nature which antedates civil society. According to Rousseau, 'the philosophers who have examined the foundations of civil society have all of them felt the necessity to go back to the state of nature'. It is true that the quest for the right social order is inseparable from reflection on the origins of civil society or on the prepolitical life of man. But the identification of the prepo­litical life of man with 'the state of nature' is a particular view, a view by no means held by 'all' political philosophers. The state

. of

nature became an essential topic of political philosophy only wtth Hobbes, who still almost apologized for employing that term. It is only since Hobbes that the philosophic doctrine of �atural �aw has been essentially a doctrine of the state of nature. Prwr to him, the term 'state of nature' was at home in Christian theology rather than in political philosophy. The state of nature was distinguished especially from the state of grace, and it was subdivided into the state of pure nature and the state of fallen nature. Hobbes dropped the subdivision and replaced the state of grace by the state of civil society. He thus denied, if n�t the fact, at any rate the importance of the Fall and accordmgly asserted that what is needed for remedying the deficiencies or the 'inconveniences' of the state of nature is, not divine grace, but the right kind of human government. This antitheological implication of 'the state of nature' can only with difficulty be separated from its intra-philosophic meaning, which is to make intelligible the primacy of rights as distinguished from du?e� : the state of nature is originally characterized by the fact that m 1t !here are perfect rights but no perfect duties. 23

22 De Cive VI 5-7 · Leviathan XVIII (p. 113) and XXVIII (pp. 202-3). 23 De Cive

' pr�ef. : :condition�m hominum extra societatem civilem (quam con­

ditionem appellare liceat statum naturae).' Cf. Locke, Treatises of Civil Government, II, sect. 15. For the original meaning of the term, cf. Aristotle Physics 246•10-�7; Cicero Offices i. 67 ; Deftnihus iii. 16, 20; Lawsiii. 3

.(cf: also DeCive, _II!, 25): Accordmg

to the classics, the state of nature would be the hfe In a healthy civil society and not

16 LEO STRAUSS

If everyone has by nature the right to preserve himself, he necessarily has the right to the rrieans required for his self­preservation. At this point the question arises as to who is to be the judge of what means are required for a man's self-preservation or as to which means are proper oi: right: The classics wouldh1ve answered that the natural judge is the man of practical wisdom, and this answer would finally lead back to the view that the simply best regime is the absolute rule of the wise and the best practicable regime is the rule of gentlemen. According to Hobbes, however, everyone is by natme the judge of what are the right means to his self-preservation. For, even granting that the wise man is, in principle, a better judge, he is much less concerned with the self­preservation of a given fool than is the fool himself. But if everyone, however foolish, is by nature the judge of what is required for his self-preservation, everything may legitimately be regarded as required for self-preservation : everything is by nature

the life antedating civil society. The conventionalists assert indeed that civil society is conventional or artificial, but this implies a depreciation of civil society. Most conventionalists do not identify the life antedating civil society with the state of nature: they identify the life according to nature with the life of human fulfilment �be it the life_of the phil<?sopher o; the life oft�� tyrant) ; the life according to nature 1s therefore 1mposs1ble tn the primeval condtt1on that antedates civil society. On the other hand, those conventionalists who identify the life according to nature or the state of nature, with the life antedating civil society, regard the state of nature as pr�ferable to civil society (cf. Montaigne, Essais, II, 12, Chronique des letlru franfazses, III, 311). Hobbes's notion of the state of nature presupposes the rejection of both the classic and the conventionalist view, for he denies the existence of a natural end, of a summum bonum. He identifies, therefore the natural life with the 'beginning', the life dominated by the most elementary w�nts ; and at the same time he �olds that th!s beginning is defective and that the deficiency is remedied by civil society. There 1s, then, according to Hobbes, no tension between civil society and what IS natural, whereas, according to conventionalism, there is a tension between civil society and what is natural. Hence, according to conventionalism the life �c�ordi_ng to. nature is superior to ciyil s�ciety, whereas, according to Hobbes, it IS lnfert?r to_tt. \Ye add tha� convenw;ma�lSI� IS not necessarily egalitarian, whereas Hobbes s ortentatton necessitates egalttartantsm. According to Thomas Aquinas the status leg_is naturae is the condition in which man lived prior to the revelatio� of the Mosaic law (Summa theologica II. 1. qu. 102, a. 3 ad 12). lt is the state in which the Gentiles live and therefore a condition of civil society (cf. Suarez, Tr. de legibus I, 3, sec . . 1? ; �II, 1 1 ['in pura. natura, vel in gentibus'] ; III, 12 ['in statu purae naturae, s1 �fol. 1llo esset respubltc� verum Deu� ?aturaliter colens'] ; also Grotius De,1ure befit 11. 5, sec. 15. 2 uses status naturae tn contradistinction to the 'status le�is Christianae'; when Grotius [iii. 7, sec. 1] says : 'citra factum humanum aut pr1maevo naturae statu', he shows, by the addition of 'primaevo' that the state of nature .as. such: is not 'citra fa�tum humanum' and hence does ' not essentially antedate c1vtl S?Ciety. However, 1f the human law is regarded as the outcome of hu�an corruption, the status legis naturae becomes that condition in which man was subJ�<;t to the law of nature alone, and not yet to any human laws (Wyclif, De civi/i dommzo, II, 13, ed. Poole, p. 154). For the prehistory of Hobbes's notion of the state of nature cf. also So to's doctrine as reported by Suarez, op. cit., II, 17, sec. 9.

THE S P I R I T O F HOB BE S ' S P O L I T I C AL PHILOSOPHY 17 just.24 We may speak of a natural right of folly. Furthermore, if everyone is by nature the judge of what is conducive to his self­preservation, consent takes precedence over wisdom. But consent is not effective if it does not transform itself into subjection to the sovereign. For the reason indicated, the sovereign is sovereign not because of his wisdom but because he has been made sovereign by the fundamental compact. This leads to the further conclusion that command or will, and not deliberation or reasoning, is the core of sovereignty or that laws are laws by virtue, not of truth or reasonableness, but of authority alone. 25 In Hobbes's teaching, the supremacy of authority as distinguished from reason follows from an extraordinary extension of the natural right of the individual.

The attempt to deduce the natural law or the moral law from the natural right of self-preservation or from the inescapable power of the fear of violent death led to far-reaching modifications of the content of the moral law. The modification amounted, in the first place, to a considerable simplification. Sixteenth- and seventeenth-century thought in gen,eral tended toward a simpli­fication of moral doctrine. To say the least, that tendency easily lent itself to absorption in the broader concern with the guaranty for the actualization of the right social order. One tried to replace the 'unsystematic' multiplicity of irreducible virtues by a single virtue, or by a single basic virtue from which all other virtues could be deduced. There existed two well-paved ways in which this reduction could be achieved. In the moral teaching of Aris­totle, 'whose opinions are at this day, and in these parts of greater authority than any other human writings' (Hobbes), there occur two virtues which comprise all other virtues or, as we may say, two 'general' virtues : magnanimity, which comprises all other virtues in so far as they contribute to the excellence of the individual, and justice, which comprises all other virtues in so far as they contribute to man's serving others. Accordingly, one could simplify moral philosophy by reducing morality either to magnanimity or else to justice. The first was done by Descartes, the second by Hobbes. The latter's choice had the particular advantage that it was favourable to a further simplification of

•• De Cive, I, 9; III, 13; Leviathan, XV (p. 100) and XL VI (p. 448). 25 De Cive, VI, 19; XIV, 1 and 17; Leviathan, XXVI (p. 180) ; cf. also Sir

Robert Filmer, Observations concerning the Original of Government, Preface. c

18 L E O S T RAUSS

moral doctrine : the unqualified identification of the doctrine of virtues with the doctrine of the moral or natural law. The moral law, in its turn, was to be greatly simplified by being deduced from the natural right of self-preservation. Self-preservation requires peace. The moral law became, therefore, the sum of rules which have to be obeyed if there is to be peace. Just as Machiavelli reduced virtue to the political virtue of patriotism, Hobbes reduced virtue to the social virtue of peaceableness. Those forms of human excellence which have no direct or unam­biguous relation to peaceableness-courage, temperance, magna­nimity, liberality, to say nothing of wisdom-cease to be virtues in the strict sense. Justice (in conjunction with equity and charity) does remain a virtue, but its meaning undergoes a radical change. If the only unconditional moral fact is the natural right of each to his self-preservation, and therefore all obligations to others arise from contract, justice becomes identical with the habit of fulfilling one's contracts. Justice no longer consists in complying with standards that are independent of human will. All material principles of justice-the rules of commutative and distributive justice or of the Second Table of the Decalogue-cease to have intrinsic validity. All material obligations arise from the agreement of the contractors, and therefore in practice from the will of the sovereign. 26 For the contract that makes possible all other contracts is the social contract or the contract of subjection to the sovereign.

If virtue is identified with peaceableness, vice will become identical with that habit or that passion which is per se incom­patible with peace because it essentially and, as it were, of set purpose issues in offending others ; vice becomes identical for all practical purposes with pride or vanity or amour-propre rather than with dissoluteness or weakness of the soul. In other words, if virtue is reduced to social virtue or to benevolence or kindness or 'the liberal virtues', 'the severe virtues' of self-restraint will lose their standing.27 Here again we must have recourse to Burke's analysis of the spirit of the French Revolution; for Burke's

26 Elements, I, 17, sec. 1 ; De Cive, Ep. ded.; III, 3-6, 29, 32; VI, 16; XII, 1 ; XIV, 9-10, 17 ; XVII, 10; XVIII, 3; De Homine, XIII, 9; Leviathan, XIV (p. 92), XV (pp. 96, 97, 98, 104), and XXVI (p. 186).

27 'Temperantia privatio potius vitiorum quae oriuntur ab ingeniis cupidis (quibus non laeditur civitas, sed ipsi) quam virtus moralis (est)' (De Homine, XIII, 9). The step from this view to 'private vices, public benefits', is short.

THE S PIRIT O F HOB B ES 'S POLITIC A L PHILOSO PHY 19

polemical overstatements were and are indispensable for tearing away the disguises, both intentional and unintentional, in which 'the new morality' introduced itself: 'The Parisian philosophers . . . explode or render odious or contemptible, that class of virtues which restrain the appetite. . . . In the place of all this, they substitute a virtue which they call humanity or benevolence. '28 This substitution is the core of what we have called 'political hedonism'.

To establish the meaning of political hedonism in somewhat more precise terms, we must contrast Hobbes's teaching with the nonpolitical hedonism of Epicurus. The points in which Hobbes could agree with Epicurus, were these : the good is fundamentally identical with the pleasant ; virtue is therefore not choiceworthy for its own sake but only with a view to the attainment of pleasure or the avoidance of pain ; the desire for honour and glory is utterly vain, i.e., sensual pleasures are, as such, preferable to honour or glory. Hobbes had to oppose Epicurus in two crucial points in order to make possible political hedonism. In the first place, he had to reject Epicurus' implicit denial of a state of nature in the strict sense, i.e., of a prepolitical condition of life in which man enjoys natural right ; for Hobbes agreed with the idealistic tradition in thinking that the claim of civil society stands or falls with the existence of natural right. Besides, he could not accept the implication of Epicurus' distinction between natural desires which are necessary and natural desires which are not necessary; for that distinction implied that happiness requires an 'ascetic' style of life and that happiness consists in a state of repose. Epicurus' high demands on self-restraint were bound to be utopian as far as most men are concerned; they had there­fore to be discarded by a 'realistic' political teaching. The 'realistic' approach to politics forced Hobbes to lift all restrictions on the striving for unnecessary sensual pleasures or, more precisely, for the commoda hlf}us vitae, or for power, with the exception of those restrictions that are required for the sake of peace. Since, as Epicurus said, 'Nature has made [only] the necessary things easy to supply', the emancipation of the desire for comfort required that science be put into the service of the satisfaction of that desire. It required, above all, that the function of civil society be radically redefined : 'the good life', for the sake

•s Letter to Rivarol of June 1, 1791.

20 LEO STRAUSS

of which men enter civil society, is no longer the life of human excellence but 'commodious living' as the reward of hard w.ork. And the sacred duty of the rulers is no longer 'to make the citizens good and doers of noble things' but to 'study, as much as by laws can be effected, to furnish the citizens abundantly with all good things . . . which are conducive to delectation. '29

It is not necessary for our purpose to follow Hobbes's thought on its way from the natural right of everyone, or from the state of nature, to the establishment of civil society. This part of his doctrine is not meant to be more than the strict consequence from his premises. It culminates in the doctrine of sovereignty, of which he is generally recognized to be the classic exponent. The doctrine of sovereignty is a legal doctrine. Its gist is not that it is expedient to assign plenitude of power to the ruling authority but that that plenitude belongs to the ruling authority as of right.

· The rights of sovereignty are assigned to the supreme power on the basis not of positive law or of general custom but of natural law. The doctrine of sovereignty formulates natural public law.30 Natural public law-jus publicum universale seu naturale-is a new discipline that emerged in the seventeenth century. It emerged in consequence of that radical change of orientation which we are trying to understand. Natural public law represents one of the two characteristically modem forms of political philosophy, the other form being 'politics' in the sense of Machiavellian 'reason of state'. Both are fundamentally distinguished from classical political philosophy. In spite of their opposition to each other,

29 De Cive, I, 2, 5, 7 ; XIII, 4--6; Leviathan, XI (pp. 63-64) and XIII end; De Corpore, I, 6.

ao LEVIATHAN, chap. xxx, the third and fourth paragraphs of the Latin version; De Cive, IX, 3; X, 2 beginning, and 5; XI, 4 end; XII, 8 end; XIV, 4; cf. also Malebranche, Traitl de morale, ed. Joly, p. 214. There is this difference between natural law in the ordinary sense and natural public law, that natural public law and its subject matter (the commonwealth) are based on a fundamental fiction, on the fiction that the will of the sovereign is the will of all and of each or that the sovereign represents all and each (De Cive, V, 6, 9, 1 1 ; VII, 14). The will of the sovereign has to be regarded as the will of all and of each, whereas, in fact, there is an essential discrepancy between the will of the sovereign and the wills of the individuals, the only wills that are natural : to obey the sovereign means precisely to do what the sovereign wills, not what I will. Even if my reason should habitually tell me to will what the sovereign wills, this rational will is not necessarily identical with my complete will, my actual or explicit will (cf. the reference �o the 'implicit wills' in Elements, II, 9, sec. 1 ; cf. also De Cive, XII, 2). On the basis of Hobbes's premises, 'representation' is then not a convenience but an essential nct:essity.

THE SPIRIT O F HOB BES' S POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY 21

they are motivated by fundamentally the same spirit.a1 Their origin is the concern with a right or sound order of society whose actualization is probable, if not certain, or does not depend on chance. Accordingly, they deliberately lower the goal of politics ; they are no longer concerned with having a clear view of the highest political possibility with regard to which all actual political orders can be judged in a responsible manner. The 'reason of state' school replaced 'the best regime' by 'efficient government'. The 'natural public law' school replaced 'the best regime' by 'legitimate government'.

Classical political · philosophy had recognized the difference between the best regime and legitimate regimes. It asserted, therefore, a variety of types of legitimate regimes ; that is, what type of regime is legitimate in given circumstances depends on the circumstances. Natural public law, on the other hand, is concerned with that right social order whose actualization is possible under all circumstances. It therefore tries to delineate that social order that can claim to be legitimate or just in all cases, regardless of the circumstances. Natural public law, we may say, replaces the idea of the best regime, which does not supply, and is not meant to supply, an answer to the question of what is the just order here and now, by the idea of the just social order which answers the basic practical question once and for all, i.e., regard­less of place and time. 32 Natural public law intends to give such a universally valid solution to the political problem as is meant to be universally applicable in practice. In other words, whereas, according to the classics, political theory proper is essentially in need of being supplemented by the practical wisdom of the statesman on the spot, the new type of political theory solves, as such, the crucial practical problem : the problem of what order is just here and now. In the decisive respect, then, there is no

81 Cf. Fr. J , Stahl, Geschichte der Rechtsphilosophie (2d. ed.), p. 325 : 'Es ist eine Eigentiirnlichkeit der neuern Zeit, class ihre Staatslehre (das Naturrecht) und ihre Staatskunst (die vorzugsweise sogenannte Politik) zwei vollig verschiedene Wis­senschaften sind. Diese · Trennung ist das Werk des Geistes, welcher in dieser Peri ode die Wissenschaft beherrscht. Das Ethos wird in der Vernunft gesucht, diese hat aber keine Macht tiber die Begebenheiten und den natiirlichen Erfolg; was die ausserlichen V erhaltnisse fordern und abnothigen, stimmt gar nicht mit ihr iiberein, verhalt sich feindlich gegen sie, die Riicksicht auf dasselbe kann daher nicht Sache der Ethik des Staates sein'. Cf. Grotius De jure belli, Prolegomena, sec. 57.

32 Cf. De Give, praef. toward the end, on the entirely different status of the question of the best form of government, on the one hand, and the question of the rights of the sovereign, on the other.

22 LEO STRAU S S

longer any need for statesmanship a s distinguished from political theory. We may call this type of thinking 'doctrinairism', and we shall say that doctrinairism made its first appearance within political philosophy-for lawyers are altogether in a class by themselves-in the seventeenth century. At that time the sensible flexibility of classical political philosophy gave way to fanatical rigidity. The political philosopher became more and more indistinguishable from the partisan. The historical thought of the nineteenth century tried to recover for statesmanship that latitude which natural public law had so severely restricted. But since that historical thought was absolutely under the spell of modem 'realism', it succeeded in destroying natural public law only by destroying in the process all moral principles of politics.

As regards Hobbes's teaching on sovereignty in particular, its doctrinaire character is shown most clearly by the denials which it implies. It implies the denial of the possibility of dis­tinguishing between good and bad regimes (kingship and tyranny, aristocracy and oligarchy, democracy and ochlocracy) as well as of the possibility of mixed regimes and of 'rule of law'.33 Since these denials are at variance with observed facts, the doctrine of sovereignty amounts in practice to a denial not of the existence, but of the legitimacy, of the possibilities mentioned : Hobbes's doctrine of sovereignty ascribes to the sovereign prince or to the sovereign people an unqualified right to disregard all legal and constitutional limitations according to their pleasure,34 and it imposes even on sensible men a natural law prohibition against censuring the sovereign and his actions. But it would be wrong to overlook the fact that the basic deficiency of the doctrine of sovereignty is shared, if to different degrees, by all other forms of natural public law doctrines as well. We merely have to remind ourselves of the practical meaning of the doctrine that the only legitimate regime is democracy.

33 De Cive, VII, 2-4 ; XII, 4-5; Leviathan, XXIX (p. 216). See, however, the reference to legitimate kings and to illegitimate rulers in De Cive, XII, 1 and 3. De Cive, VI, 13 end, and VII, 14, show that natural law, as Hobbes understands it, supplies a basis for objectively distinguishing between kingship and tyranny. Cf. also ibid., XII, 7, with XIII, 10.

34 As for the discrepancy between Hobbes's doctrine and the practice of mankind, see Leviathan, XX end, and XXXI end. As for the revolutionary consequences of Hobbes's doctrine of sovereiguty, see De Cive, VII, 16, and 17 as well as Leviathan, XIX (p. 122) and XXIX (p. 210): there is no right of prescription; the sovereign is the present sovereign (see Leviathan, XXVI, p. 175).

THE S P I RIT O F H O B B E S ' S P O LITI CAL P HI L O S O P H Y 23

The classics had conceived of regimes (politeiai) not so much in terms of institutions as in terms of the aims actually pursued by the community or its authoritative part. Accordingly, they regarded the best regime as that regime whose aim is virtue, and they held that the right kind of institutions are indeed indis­pensable for establishing and securing the rule of the virtuous, but of only secondary importance in comparison with 'education', i.e. , the formation of character. From the point of view of natural public law, on the other hand, what is needed in order to establish the right social order is not so much the formation of character as the devising of the right kind of institutions. As Kant put it in rejecting the view that the establishment of the right social order requires a nation of angels : 'Hard as it may sound, the problem of establishing the state [i.e., the just social order] is soluble even for a nation of devils, provided they have sense', i.e., provided that they are guided by enlightened selfishness ; the fundamental political problem is simply one of 'a good organization of the state, of which man is indeed capable'. In the words of Hobbes, 'when [commonwealths] come to be dissolved, not by external violence, but intestine disorder, the fault is not in men, as they are the matter, but as they are the makers, and orderers of them'.35 Man as the maker of civil society can solve once and for all the problem inherent in man as the matter of civil society. Man can guarantee the actualization of the right social order because he is able to conquer human nature by understanding and manipulating the mechanism of the passions.

There is a term that expresses in the most condensed form the result of the change which Hobbes has effected. That term is 'power'. It is in Hobbes's political doctrine that power becomes for the first time eo nomine a central theme. Considering the fact that, according to Hobbes, science as such exists for the sake of power, one may call Hobbes's whole philosophy the first philo­sophy of power. 'Power' is an ambiguous term. It stands for potentia, on the one hand, and for potestas (or jus or dominium), on the other.36 It means both 'physical' power and 'legal' power.

35 Leviathan, XXIX (p. 210) ; Kant, Eternal Peace, Definitive Articles, First Addition. 36 Cf., e.g., the headings of chap. x in the English and Latin versions of the

Leviathan, and the headings of Elements, II, 3 and 4, with those of De Cive, VIII and IX. For an example of the synonymous use of potentia and potestas see De Cive, IX, 8. A comparison of the title of the Leviathan with the Preface of De Cive (beginning of the section on method) suggests that 'power' is identical with 'generation'. a. De Corpore, X, 1 : potentia is the same as causa. In opposition to Bishop Bramhall, Hobbes insists on the identiry of 'power' with 'potentiality' (E. W., IV, p. 298).

24 LEO S T R A U S S

The ambiguity is essential : only if potentia and potestas essentially belong together, can there be a guaranty of the actualization of the right social order. The state, as such, is both the greatest human force and the highest human authority. Legal power is irresistible force.37 The necessary coincidence of the greatest human force and the highest human authority corresponds strictly to the necessary coincidence of the most powerful passion (fear of violent death) and the most sacred right (the right of self-preservation). Potentia and potestas have this in common, that they are both intelligible only in contradistinction, and in relation, to the actus: the potentia of a man is what a man can do, and the potestas ot, more generally expressed, the right of a man, is what a man mtg do. The predominance of the concern with 'power' is therefore only the reverse of a relative indifference to the actus, and this means to the purposes for which man's 'physical' as well as his 'legal' power is or ought to be used. This indifference can be traced directly to Hobbes's concern with an exact or scientific political teaching. The sound use of 'physical' power as well as the sound exercise of rights depends on prudentia, and whatever falls within the province of prudentia is not susceptible of exactness. There are two kinds of exactness : mathematical and legal. From the point of view of mathematical exactness, the study of the actu.r and therewith of the ends is replaced by the study of potentia. 'Physical' power as distinguished from the purposes for which it is used is morally neutral and therefore more amenable to mathe­matical strictness than is its use : power can be measured. This explains why Nietzsche, who went much beyond Hobbes and declared the will to power to be the essence of reality, conceived of power in terms of 'quanta of power'. From the point of view of legal exactness, the study of the ends is replaced by the study of potestas. The rights of the sovereign, as distinguished from the exercise of these rights, permit of an exact definition without any regard to any unforeseeable circumstances, and this kind of exactness is again inseparable from moral neutrality : right declares what is permitted, as distinguished from what is honour­able. 38 Power, as distinguished from the end for which power is

37 De Cive, XIV, 1, and XVI, 15; Let!iathan, X (p. 56). 38 De Cwe, X, 16, and VI, 13 annot. end. Cf. Leviathan, XXI (p. 143), for the

distinction between the permitted and the honourable (cf. Salmasius, Deftn.rio regia [1649] , pp. 40-45). Cf. Leviathan, XI (p. 64) with Thomas Aquinas Summa tontra Gentiles !Jl. 31.

THE S P I R I T OF H OB B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L P H I LO S O P H Y 25

used or ought to be used, becomes the central theme of political reflections by virtue of that limitation of horizon which is needed if there is to be a guaranty of the actualization of the right social order.

Hobbes's political doctrine is meant to be universally applic­able and hence to be applicable also and especially in extreme cases. This indeed may be said to be the boast of the classic doctrine of sovereignty : that it gives its due to the extreme case, to what holds good in emergency situations, whereas those who question that doctrine are accused of not looking beyond the pale of normality. Accordingly, Hobbes built his whole moral and political doctrine on observations regarding the extreme case; for the experience on which his doctrine of the state of nature is based is the experience of civil war. It is in the extreme situation, when the social fabric has completely broken down, that there comes to sight the solid foundation on which every social order must ultimately rest : the fear of violent death, which is the strongest force in human life. Yet Hobbes was forced to concede that the fear of violent death is only 'commonly' or in most cases the most powerful force. The principle which was supposed to make possible a political doctrine of universal applicability, then, is not universally valid and therefore is useless in what, from Hobbes's point of view, is the most important case-the extreme case. For how can one exclude the possibility that precisely in the extreme situation the exception will prevail ?S9

To speak in more specific terms, there are two politically important phenomena which would seem to show with particular clarity the limited validity of Hobbes's contention regarding the overwhelming power of the fear of violent death. In the first place, if the only unconditional moral fact is the individual's right of self-preservation, civil society can hardly demand from the individual that he resign that right both by going to war and by submitting to capital punishment. As regards capital punish­ment, Hobbes was consistent enough to grant that, by being justly

u Leviathan, XJJ.I (p. 83) and XV (p. 92). One may state this difficulty alio as follows : In the spirit of the dogmatism based on skepticism, Hobbes identified what the skeptic Cameades apparently regarded as the conclusive refutation of the claims raised on behalf of justice, with the only possible justification of these claims : the extreme situation-the situation of the two shipwrecked men on a plank on which only one man can save himself-reveals, not the impossibility of justice, but the basis of justice. Yet Carneades did not contend that in such a situation one is compelled to kill one's competitor (Cicero Republic iii. 29-30) : the extreme situation does not reveal a real necessity.

26 L E O S T R A U S S

and legally condemned to death, a man does not lose the right to defend his life by resisting 'those that assault him' : a justly con­demned murderer retains-nay, he acquires-the right to kill his guards and everyone else who stands in his way to escape, in order to save dear life.40 But, by granting this, Hobbes in fact admitted that there exists an insoluble conflict between the rights of the government and the natural right of the individual to self­preservatioP. This conflict was solved in the spirit, if against the letter, of Hobbes by Beccaria, who inferred from the absolute primacy of the right of self-preservation the necessity of abolishing capital punishment. As regards war, Hobbes, who proudly declared that he was 'the first of all that fled' at the outbreak of the Civil War, was consistent enough to grant that 'there is allowance to be made for natural timorousness'. And as if he desired to make it perfectly clear to what lengths he was prepared to go in opposing the lupine spirit of Rome, he continues as follows : 'When armies fight, there is on one side, or both, a running away : yet when they do it not out of treachery, but fear, they are not esteemed to do it unjustly, but dishonourably'.41 But, by granting this, he destroyed the moral basis of national defence. The only solution to this difficulty which preserves the spirit of Hobbes's political philosophy is the outlawry of war or the establishment of a world state.

There was only one fundamental objection to Hobbes's basic assumption which he felt very keenly and which he made every effort to overcome. In many cases the fear of violent death proved to be a weaker force than the fear of hell fire or the fear of God. The difficulty is well illustrated by two widely separated passages of the Leviathan. In the first passage Hobbes says that the fear of the power of men (i.e., the fear of violent death) is 'commonly' greater than the fear of the power of 'spirits invisible', i.e., than religion. In the second passage he says that 'the fear of darkness and ghosts is greater than other fears'.42 Hobbes saw his way to solve this contradiction : the fear of invisible powers is stronger than the fear of violent death as long as people believe in invisible powers, i.e., as long as they are under the spell of delusions about

40 Leviathan, XXI (pp. 142-43) ; cf. also De Cive, VIII, 9. 41 Leviathan, XXI (p. 143) ; E. W. IV, p. 414. Cf. Leviathan, XXX (p. 227)

and De Cive, XIII, 14, with Locke's chapter on conquest. 42 Leviathan, XIV (p. 92) and XXIX (p. 215); cf. also ibid., XXXVIII beginning;

De Cive, VI, 1 1 ; XII, 2, 5; XVII, 25 and 27.

T H E S P I R IT O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L P H I L O S O P H Y 27

the true character of reality ; the fear of violent death comes fully into its own as soon as people have become enlightened. This implies that the whole scheme suggested by Hobbes requires for its operation the weakening or, rather, the elimination of the fear of invisible powers. It requires such a radical change of orientation as can be brought about only by the disenchantment of the world, by the diffusion of scientific knowledge, or by popular enlightenment. Hobbes's is the first doctrine that necessarily and unmistakably points to a thoroughly 'enlightened', i.e., a-religious or atheistic society as the solution of the social or political problem. This most important implication of Hobbes's doctrine was made explicit not many years after his death by Pierre Bayle, who attempted to prove that an atheistic society is possible. 43

It is, then, only through the prospect of popular enlighten­ment that Hobbes's doctrine acquired such consistency as it possesses. The virtues which he ascribed to enlightenment are indeed extraordinary. The power of ambition and avarice, he says, rests on the false opinions of the vulgar regarding right and wrong ; therefore, once the principles of justice are known with mathematical certainty, ambition and avarice will become powerless and the human race will enjoy lasting peace. For, obviously, mathematical knowledge of the principles of justice

43 A good reason for connecting Bayle's famous thesis with Hobbes's doctrine rather than with that of Faustus Socinus, e.g., is supplied by the following statement of Bayle (Dictionnaire, art. 'Hobbes', rem. D) : 'Hobbes sc fit beaucoup d'ennemis par cet ouvrage [De cive] ; mais il fit avouer aux plus clairvoyants, qu'on n'avait jamais si bien penetre les fondements de Ia politique'. I cannot prove here that Hobbes was an atheist, even according to his own view of atheism. I must limit myself to asking the reader to compare De cive, XV, 14, with E.W. IV, p. 349. Many present-day scholars who write on subjects of this kind do not seem to have a sufficient notion of the degree of circumspection or of accommodation to the accepted views that was required, in former ages, of 'deviationists' who desired to survive or to die in peace. Those scholars tacitly assume that the pages in Hobbes's writings devoted to religious subjects can be understood if they are read in the way in which one ought to read the corresponding utterances, say, of Bertrand Russell. In other words, I am familiar with the fact that there are innumerable passages in Hobbes's writings which were used by Hobbes and which can be used by everyone else for proving that Hobbes was a theist and even a good Anglican. The prevalent procedure would merely lead to historical errors, if to grave historical errors, but for the fact that its results are employed for buttressing the dogma that the mind of the individual is incapable of liberating itself from the opinions which rule his society. Hobbes's last word on the question of public worship is that the common­wealth may establish public worship. If the commonwealth fails to establish public worship, i.e., if it allows 'many sorts of worship', as it may, 'it cannot be said . . . that the commonwealth is of any religion at all' (cf. Leviathan, XXXI [p. 240] with the Latin version [p.m. 171]).

28 LEO STRAUSS

(i.e., the new doctrine of natural right and the new natural public law that is built on it) cannot destroy the wrong opinions of the vulgar, if the vulgar are not apprised of the results of that mathe­matical knowledge. Plato had said that evils will not cease from the cities if the philosophers do not become kings or if philosophy and political power do not coincide. He had expected such salva­tion for mortal nature as can reasonably be expected, from a coincidence over which philosophy has no control but for which one can only wish or pray. Hobbes, on the other hand, was certain that philosophy itself can bring about the coincidence of philosophy and political power by becoming popularized philo­sophy and thus public opinion. Chance will be conquered by systematic philosophy issuing in systematic enlightenment : Paulatim eruditur vulgus.44 By devising the right kind of institutions and by enlightening the citizen body, philosophy guarantees the solution of the social problem, whose solution cannot be guar­anteed by man if it is thought to depend on moral discipline.

Opposing the 'utopianism' of the classics, Hobbes was concerned with a social order whose actualization is probable and even certain. The guaranty of its actualization might seem to be supplied by the fact that the sound social order is based on the most powerful passion and therewith on the most powerful force in man. But if the fear of violent death is truly the strongest force in man, one should expect the desired social order always, or almost always, to be in existence, because it will be produced by natural necessity, by the natural order. Hobbes overcomes this difficulty by assuming that men in their stupidity interfere with the natural order. The right social order does not normally come about by natural necessity on account of man's ignorance of that

44 De Cive, Ep. ded. ; cf. De Corpore, I, 7 : the cause of civil war is ignorance of the causes of wars and of peace; hence the remedy is moral philosophy. Accordingly Hobbes, characteristically deviating from Aristotle (Politics 1302a35 ff.), seeks the causes of rebellion chiefly in false doctrines (De Cive, XII). The belief in the prospects of popular enlightenment-De Romine, XIV, 13; Leviathan, XVIII (p. 119), XXX (p. 221, 224-25), and XXXI end-is based on the view that the natural inequality of human beings in regard to intellectual gifts is inconsiderable (Leviathan, XIII [p. 80] and XV [P· 100] ; De Cive, Ill, 13). Hobbes's expectation from enlighten­ment seems to be contradicted by his belief in the power of passion, and especially of pride or ambition. The contradiction is solved by the consideration that the ambition which endangers civil society is characteristic of a minority : of 'the rich and potent subjects of a kingdom, or those that are accounted the most learned' ; if 'the common people', whom necessity 'keepeth attent on their trades,and labour,' are properly taught, the ambition and avarice of the few will become powerless. Cf. also B. W. IV, pp. 443--44.

T H E S P I R I T O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L P H I LO S O P H Y 29

order. The 'invisible hand' remains ineffectual if it is not sup­ported by the Leviathan or, if you wish, by the Wealth of Nations.

There is a remarkable parallelism and an even more remarkable discrepancy between Hobbes's theoretical philosophy and his practical philosophy. In both parts of his philosophy, he teaches that reason is impotent and that it is omnipotent, or that reason is omnipotent because it is impotent. Reason is impotent because reason or humanity have no cosmic support : the universe is unin­telligible, and nature 'dissociates' men. But the very fact that the universe is unintelligible permits reason to rest satisfied with its free constructs, to establish through its constructs an Archimedean basis of operations, and to anticipate an unlimited progress in its conquest of nature. Reason is impotent against passion, but it can became omnipotent if it co-operates with the strongest passion or if it puts itself into the service of the strongest passion. Hobbes's rationalism, then, rests ultimately on the conviction that, thanks to nature's kindness, the strongest passion is the only passion which can be 'the origin of large and lasting societies' or that the strongest passion is the most rational passion. In the case of human things, the foundation is not a free construct but the most powerful natural force in man. In the case of human things, we understand not merely what we make but also what makes our making and our makings. Whereas the philosophy or science of nature remains fundamentally hypothetical, political philosophy rests on a nonhypothetical knowledge of the nature of man.45 As long as Hobbes's approach prevails, 'the philosophy concerned with the human things' will :remain the last refuge of nature. For at some point. nature succeeds in getting a hearing. The modern contention that man can 'change the world' or 'push back nature' is not unreasonable. One can even safely go much beyond it and say that man can expel nature with a hayfork. One ceases to be reasonable only if one forgets what the philosophic poet adds, tamen usque recurret.

u Cf. n. 9 above.

2

T H E TAYLOR T H E S I S

I

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Stuart M. Brown, Jr.1

IN 1938, A. E. Taylor advanced the bold thesis that Hobbes's

ethical theory is logically independent of the egoistic psychology and is a strict deontology.

In the two full decades that have now elapsed since the publication of Taylor's paper, most historians of philosophy and political theory have ignored, as misleading and too curious, the similarities between Hobbes and Kant to which Taylor called attention.2 But few have ignored Taylor's principal contention that Hobbes's ethical theory, considered on its merits and as distinct from the psychology, is in some sense a deontology and not an explication of moral and political obligation in terms of prudence and self-interest. Indeed, the arguments and evidence adduced by Taylor in support of his thesis are so compelling that most of the recent work on Hobbes has been done on the pre­sumption that the thesis is true : and controversies about the interpretation of Hobbes's theory have been for the most part between scholars who agree with each other in accepting Taylor's thesis and who disagree only as to what in detail Hobbes's non­prudential theory of obligation is. a

1 [This nece.uarily somewhat compressed, but not partiran account of one of the main strands in recent discutsions of Hobbes's philosopl{y-the strand that links together mai!J rif the contributions to this present voltJme, in fact-was originally prefixed to the paper here reprinted as Chapter 3. However, sillCe it offers the newcomer a useful introduction to the whole debate on the so-called 'Taylor-Warrender Thesis', I have taken the liberty of printing it ahead of Prof. Taylor'.s own article, and divorced from what is-strictly speaking-its proper context. Ed.]

• See, for example, Howard Warrender, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes (Oxford, 1957), pp. 57-58, 87-93, 222-233, 335-337.

3 Though see Thomas Nagel's 'Hobbes's Concept of Obligation', The Philosophical &view, LXVIII (1959), p. 68 ff., a sensitive and careful defense of the traditional view of Hobbes.

32 S T U ART M . B R OWN J R .

In The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, one of the fullest com­mentaries ever written on a major political philosopher, Warrender accepts the Taylor thesis, and , in several passages, states the thesis in ways that clearly echo Taylor :

Hobbes says so much about self-preservation that it is easily regarded as being central in his theory of obligation. This is so far from being the case that it is not a part; of �hat the?ry �s such, but an empirical postulate employed 1n 1ts application. A denial of Hobbes's psychology, therefore, merely poses a new problem of application, but leaves his theory of obligation, in the proper sense, unaffected. 4

Thus [according to Hobbes] , the reason why I can do my duty is that I am able (with adequate deliberation, etc.) to see it as a means to my preservation; but the reason why I ought to do my duty is that God commands it. 5

Warrender contends, that is, that there is in Hobbes an ethical theory proper, a theory of obligation in the proper sense, and that this is logically independent of the empirical statements which comprise Hobbes's psychology and his view of the world.

Again, though never stated explicitly, the Taylor thesis is implicit in Oakeshott's discussion of obligation in his Intro­duction to the widely-used Blackwell edition of Leviathan. Oakeshott distinguishes four different kinds of obligation which, for the sake of convenience, he calls physical, rational, moral, and political. s Despite Oa�eshott' s claim that all.four kinds o� obliga­tion are to be found 1n Hobbes, even on his own showmg only rational and moral obligation are of any particular theoretical interest. Physical obligations obtain in cases of external, physical restraints upon action 7 ; whereas political obligations are mixed, 'consisting of physical, rational, and moral obligation, combined to serve one end, but never assimilated to one another'. 8 It is Oakeshott's distinction between rational and moral obligation that is central to and crucial for his interpretation, for political obligation consists of these two plus the physical restr�ts imposed by an enforcing power. But as Oakeshott tre�ts �t, rational obligation is a psychological phenomenon. It obtams 1n cases of psychological restraints upon action, where 'the impedi­ment is internal, a combination of rational perception and fear'. 9

• Warrender, op. cit., p. 93 5 Ibid., p. 213. . . . . a Michael Oakeshott, Introduction to Leviathan (Oxford, 1946), pp. lvm-lx1. ' Ibid., p. lix. 8 Ibid., p. lxi 9 Ibid., p. lix

..

i I

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 33

' A psychological restraint upon action is, however, quite distinct from moral obligation which implies a restriction on natural right and is to be explained in terms of the covenant effecting this restriction. 'The answer to the question, Why am I morally bound to obey the will of this Sovereign ? is, Because I have authorized this Sovereign, "avouched" his actions, and am "bound by my own act".'10 But moral obligation, in this proper sense implying a restriction upon natural right, is 'not based upon self-interest'.11 Self-interest is a merely rational obligation, an internal and psychological phenomenon which supplies no principle for the authorization of the sovereign. In this manner Oakeshott disengages Hobbes's ethical theory proper from the egoistic psychology.

There are at least three excellent reasons why Taylor, Oake­shott, Warrender, and others12 insist upon making so radical a distinction between Hobbes's ethical theory and his psychology. First, there are the arguments and evidence presented by Taylor. These consist primarily of passages in which Hobbes discusses obligation in language that cannot be explained on the traditional, egoistic interpretation : the familiar passages in which Hobbes asserts that men are obliged in foro inferno to keep covenants even in a state of nature, treats obligation in terms of covenanting and submitting, and lists the duties of sovereigns to their subjects. There are passages of this sort in all three of Hobbes's major works in political philosophy ; and for any such passage in one of the works, there is usually a parallel passage in at least one of the other two. This being the case, one must assume either that Hobbes is systematically inconsistent or that the traditional interpretation is somehow mistaken and in need of substantial revision. The first alternative is implausible and profitless.

to Ibid., p. lx. 11 Ibid. 12 See, for example : (1) S. P. Lamprecht, 'Hobbes and .Hobbism', 1merican

Political Science Review XXXIV (1940), 31 ff. ; and IntroductiOn to De Czve (New York, 1949), pp. xv ff. (2) J. M. Brown, 'A Note on Professor Oakeshott's Intro­duction to the Leviathan', Political Studies, I (1953), 53 ff. And (3) Dorothea Krook, 'Mr. Brown's Note Annotated', Political Studies, I (1953), 216 ff. Lamprecht's distinction between 'Hobbes' and 'Hobbism" is, in principle, a distinction between an interpretation of Hobbes based on the Taylor thesi� and the traditional in;erpre­tations. Although J. M. Brown sharply d1sagrees w1th Oak�shott, Brown s own interpretation of Hobbes appears to be based on the Taylor thesJs. Dorothea Kro.ok, however, seems inconsistent : on the one hand, she defends Oakeshott agau!'st Brown on points of interpretation which are plausible only on the Taylor thesJ.s ; o n the other hand she makes statements about Hobbes and about weaknesses m Oakeshott's interp;etation that imply the denial of the Taylor thesis.

D

34 S T U A R T M . B R OWN J R .

Secondly, on the traditional view, Hobbes's ethical theory must be false or untenable if psychological egoism is false. But Hobbes's psychological egoism, interpreted as a descriptive account of motivation, now seems to us incredibly crude and plainly false. Thus if we are to take Hobbes seriously and read him sympathetically with a view to determining whether or not his ethical theory is tenable, we must regard the traditional inter­pretation with deep suspicion. We must assume that his ethical theory could turn out to be logically independent of his psy­chology.

And thirdly, even if Hobbes himself did not in fact distinguish clearly between questions in moral philosophy and questions in empirical psychology, we now distinguish between these ques­tions and must determine whether Hobbes could in principle have done so without damage to his theory.

For reasons such as these, Taylor, Oakeshott, Warrender, and others have read and written about Hobbes from a point of view radically different from that of the tradition. To these men members of the present generation of political philosophers are indebted for the freshness of mind with which they now can read Hobbes and for their newly deepened understanding of him.

II : THE ETHICAL DOCTRINE OF HOBBES

A. E. Taylor*

The moral doctrine of Hobbes, in many ways the most interesting of our major British philosophers, is, I think, com­monly seen in a false perspective which has seriously obscured its real affinities. This is, no doubt, largely due to the fact that most modern readers begin and end their study of Hobbes's ethics with the Leviathan, a rhetorical and, in many ways, a popular Streit­schrift published in the very culmination of what looked at the time to be a permanent revolution, and do not pay such attention to the more calmly argued statements of the same doctrine contained in the Eletnents of Law, circulated before the outbreak of the Civil War, or the De Cive, produced (apart from the explana­tory notes appended in the second edition of 1646) before the issue of the conflict could have been thought to be already decided by 'the sword'. As a corrective to misunderstandings based on exclusive attention to the Leviathan, I shall, in these pages, take my references to Hobbes almost entirely from the De Cive, and, for convenience' sake, I will use the text of the English version, Philosophical RJtdiments concerning Government and Society, printed in 1651 and reproduced in Vol. II of Molesworth's edition of the English Works. (I have remarked a few errors in this volume, notably the total perversion of Hobbes's sense by the omission of a whole line of text in XVI, 16, p. 245, of Molesworth. IS But with these few exceptions it seems to me a sufficiently faithful rendering for my purposes.

* [At the points indicated, two brief asides have here been omitted from Prof. Taylor's text. Ed.]

10 l?- the original Latin text of the sentence Hobbes says, as we should expect him to say m the course of an attempt to prove that the supreme power, both spiritual and temporal, was possessed in the days of the Israelite and Jewish monarchies by the kings, �hat the p�iests could only do rightfully what God commanded them, wherea; the king had r1.ghtfully all. the power over every man which that man had over htmself (sacerdos td tantum 1ure poterat quod Deus iuberet rex autem iure poterat quidquid poterat iure unusquisque in se). In Molesworth\ edition this is , represented by the sense-destroying statement that 'the priest could do rightly whatsoever every man could rightly do himself'.

36 A . E . TAYLOR

The impression which the average reader of the Lcviathatt carries away with him might, I think, be fairly summed up thus. ( . . . . ) The answer to the question what ought a good man to do? is the simple one that he ought to obey the political 'sovereign' without asking any questions or making any difficulties ; and the reason why he ought to do this is equally simple. It can be shown, if not to demonstration, yet with overwhelming prob­ability, that he stands personally to lose by doing anything else, and the object of every man's desire is 'always some ,good to himself'. It is my personal interest that the miseries of anarchy should be prevented ; by disobeying the civil law in any particular, I am, so far, contributing to the recurrence of anarchy ; ergo, it is always to my interest to conform to the law. And to say that this is to my interest is equivalent to saying that it is my duty ; my duty, in fact, means my personal interest, calmly understood. That this should be popularly accepted as an adequate account of Hobbes's teaching about morality may be partly e�plained by historical causes. When Butler set himself to expose the fallacies of the 'selfish' psychology of human action, he found admirable examples of them in some of Hobbes's analyses of the 'passions', and he did the work of refutation so thoroughly that be has perhaps made the notion that there is nothing in Hobbes but this 'selfish psychology' (a charge which he himself is careful never to make) current from his day to our own. Partly also I think Hobbes himself must be held unintentionally responsible for the result. The Leviathan is far the most readable and amusing of his works, and it wa� written in a time of revolution and unsettlement as a persuasive to cessation from fruitless civil strife. For its immediate purpose, as an exhortation to peace, it was right and proper that the author should develop the contention that peace is the real interest of his fellow-countrymen as persuasively as he could; it is not surprising, therefore, that it attains such dimensions in his book as to give the impression that it is really all, or almost all, that he has to say.

And yet it is not all, nor nearly all. There are really two dis­tinct questions before Hobbes, the question why I ought to behave as a good citizen, and the question what inducement can be given me to do so if my knowledge of the obligation to do so is not in itself sufficiently effective. According to his repeated declarations, it is a certain fact of psychology that I shall violate the law and

T H E TAYLOR T H E S I S 37 break the peace if I believe that I stand to gain by doing so.l4 Hence the importance for him of arguing that I never really stand to gain by such conduct, since the recurrence of the state of 'war of every man against every man' is a disadvantage to me which cannot be offset by any compensating advantage. But the Hobbian answer to the other question, why I ought, or am obliged, to be a good citizen is quite different; it is, quite explicitly that I have, expressly or tacitly, pledged my word to be one, and to violate my word, to refuse to 'perform my covenant as made', is iniquity, malum in se.15 Hobbes's ethical doctrine proper, disengaged from an egoistic psychology with which it has no logically necessary connection, is a very strict deontology, curiously suggestive, though with interesting differences, of some of the characteristic theses of Kant.

This comes out particularly strikingly in the passage in the De Cive (Il;I, 5), where Hobbes is explaining the difference between �e justice of an act and the justice of a person. A just act is 'what is done in accord with right', but a man who does acts which are in-accord with right is not eo-ipso a just man. 'When the words are

14 Thus (De Cive, V, 1): 'It is of itself manifest that the actions of men proceed from the will, and the will from hope and fear, in so much as when they shall see a greater good or less evil likely to happen to them by the breach than observation of the laws, they will wittingly violate them'. Hence Hobbes goes on to maintain that the moral guilt of offences into which subjects are led by the insufficiency of the penalties provided for them falls not on the subject but on the sovereign. ' If, therefore, the legislator doth set a less penalty on a crime, than will make our fear more considerable with us than our lust, that excess of lust above the fear of punish­ment, wheteby sin is committed, is to be attributed to the legislator, that is to say, to the supreme' (De Cive, XIII, 16).

16 When he is speaking strictly, Hobbes makes a distinction between injmtice and iniqt�iry, though the distinction is not always carefully kept up (less carefully, I think, in De Cive than in Leviathan). Injustice, in the strictest sense of the word, i s possible only in the 'civil' state, since it i s by definition disregard of the commands of the lawful sovereign. Iniquity, which can exist in 'the state of nature,' or in the conduct of the sovereign, who, since he is not subject to his own commands, cannot be guilty of injustice proper, is violation of the 'natural law', which is also, according to Hobbes's repeated explanations, the mora/ law. But since my obligation to obey the sovereign is based on the assumption that by living under his protection I have expressly or tacitly 'covenanted' with all my neighbours to accept his commands as the rule of life, and the obligation to observe a 'covenant' is thus antecedent to the institution of civil society, the moral guilt of 'injustice' arises from the fact that all injustice is also iniquiry, and therefore breach of the moral law, though not all iniquity is 'injustice.' Even in the 'state of nature' to which, according to the Leviathan, it is 'consequent' that no act can be just or injust, wanton violation of a promise could be iniquitous. (It is true that since, according to Hobbes's psychology, a man inevitably acts to secure what he believes to be his own greatest good, really wanton promise-breaking could never occur. The promise-breaker would always be acting from the 'reasonable' motive that he hoped to secure more good by break­ing his word than by keeping it.)

38 A. E . T A Y L O R

applied to persons, to be just signifies to be delighted in just dealing, to study how to do righteousness, or to endeavour in all things to do that which is just ; and to be utifust is to neglect righteous dealing, or to think it is to be measured not according to my contract, but some present benefit . . . . That man is to be accounted just, who doth just things because the law commands it, injust things only by reason of his infirmity ; and he is properly said to be injust, who doth righteousness for fear of the punishment annexed unto the law, and unrighteousness by reason of the iniquity of his mind.'16

This is precisely Kant's distinction between action done merely in accord with law and action done from law, with the characteristic difference that Hobbes is trying to reduce the law from which the virtuous man acts to the single law that a promise once duly fulfilled must be kept, and Hobbes is laying himself open to the very same line of argument which has, fairly or unfairly, been used against Kant, that a 'good will' which wills nothing but this conformity to laws because it is law, is formal and empty.

Indeed, Hobbes actually goes as far as to anticipate Kant's attempt to reduce all really wrong willing to the irrational attempt to will both sides of a contradiction at once. Thus we read (De Cive, III, 3, and the argument is equally used in other expositions of his theory) 'There is some likeness between that which in the common course of life we call if!jury, and that which in the schools is usually called absurd. For even as he who by arguments is driven to deny the assertion which he first maintained, is said to be brought to an absurdity ; in like manner, he who through weak­ness of mind does or omits that which before he had by contract promised not to do or omit, commits an injury, and falls into no less contradiction than he who in the schools is reduced to an absurdity. For by contracting for some future action, he wills it done ; by not doing it, he wills it not done ; which is to will a thing done and not done at the same time, which is a contra­diction. An injury therefore is a kind of absurdity in conversation, as an absurdity is a kind of injury in disputation.' 'There is in every breach of covenant a contradiction properly so called ; for he

16 Cf. De Cive, IV, 21. 'Although a man should order all his actions so much as belongs to external obedience just as the law commands, but not for the law's sake, but by reason of some punishment annexed to it, or out of vain glory; yet he is unjust.'

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 39

that covenanteth, willcth to do, or omit, in the time to come; and he that doth any action, willeth it in the present, which is part of the future time, contained in the covenant; and therefore he that violateth a covenant, willeth the doing and the not doing of the same thing, at the same time ; which is a plain contradiction. And so injury is an absurdity of conversation, as absurdity is a kind of injury in disputation'. The thought here is at bottom the same 'as Kant's, but for the differences that (1) Hobbes, for his own reasons, reduces all 'injury' to the violation of an express or implied promise ; (2) and he has not, like Kant, thought of the 'universalizing of a maxim' as a criterion of its freedom from contradiction. But the really important point is that Hobbes agrees with Kant on the 'imperative' character of the moral law, exactly as he also agrees with him in the assertion that it is the law of 'right reason'.

Hobbes's recognition of the imperativeness of the natural, which is also the m,omHaw, is obscured for a hasty reader by the fact that he' also repeatedly describes the contents of that law as 'theorems' discovered by our reason, like the theorems of mathe­matics, and even goes so far as to say that these theorems only become laws proper in civil society.

Thus (De Cive, III, 33) 'those which we call the laws of nature (since they are nothing else but certain conclusions, understood by reason, of things to be done and omitted; but a law, to speak properly and accurately, is the speech of him who by right commands somewhat to others to be done or omitted) are, not in propriety of speech laws, as they proceed from nature. Yet, as they are delivered by God in holy Scriptures . . . they are most properly called by the name of laws' ; again (Leviathan, XV), 'these Dictates of Reason, men use to call by the name of Lawes, but improperly : for +hey are but Conclusions, or Theoremes concerning what conduceth to the conservation and defence of themselves ; whereas Law, properly, is the word of him, that by right,hath command over others. But yet if we consider the same theoremes, as delivered in the word of God, that by right com­mandeth all things ; then are they properly called Lawes.' So in The Elements oJLaw (I, 1 5, sec. 1), the 'precepts ofNatural Law' are said simply to be 'those which declare unto us the ways of peace, where the same may be obtained, and of defence where it may not', without any reference to an imperative character, though we read

40 A . E . T A Y L O R

later in the same work (I, 18, sec. 1) that they are 'also divine laws in respect of the author thereof, God Almighty'. One might, at first, be disposed to understand these deliverances to mean that in themselves the 'laws of nature' are mere propositions indicative about the means which are commonly found to be most conducive to a peaceful existence, and that their imperative character as laws, in the proper sense of the word, is entirely secondary; it only arises in a civil society when the sovereign has bestowed it upon them, and reinforced it with penal 'sanctions'. Thus outside a civil society with penalties for breach of contract, the 'law' that 'men perform their covenants' would mean merely the proposition that in the vast majority of cases, perhaps in all, a man will find that it pays him better to keep his word than it would do to break it ; in civil society, so far as regards contracts of which the law takes cognizance, this statement of fact is converted into an imperative by the sovereign who imports the 'thou shalt' into it by making covenant-breaking actionable in his courts. And this is, I believe, how Hobbes has commonly been understood by most of his readers.

But there are, as it seems to me, insuperable difficulties in the way of such an interpretation.

(1) It is to be observed that from the first, and even when he is speaking of the condition of things in his imaginary 'state of nature', Hobbes always describes the items of the natural law as dictamina, or dictates, never as consilia, or pieces of advice, and the very use of this language implies their imperative character. ('Dictates' . . . . are something very different from counsels or recommendations.) So, too, Hobbes regularly says of his natural law that it is a 'theorem' which forbids certain actions, and uses imperative or quasi-imperative language in his formulation of them. Thus (De Cive, II, 1) the law of nature is defined as 'the dictate of right reason, conversant about those things which are either to be done or omitted (dictamen rectae rationis circa ea, quae agenda vel omittenda sunt) for the constant preservation of life and members, as much as in us lies.' 'A Law of Nature (Leviathan, XIV) is a Precept, or generall Rule, found out by Reason, by which a man is forbidden to do, that, which is destructive of his life, or taketh away the means of preserving the same ; and to omit that, by which he thinketh it may be best preserved.' And (ibid.) the 'Fundamentall Law of Nature' is that 'by which

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 41

men are commanded to endeavour Peace.' The imperative character of the law is thus inseparable from it . · Even in the 'state of nature' the 'fundamental law' is not 'men cling to life and are reluctant to leave it' ; but 'I am to do what will, so far as I can see, preserve my life, and I am not to do what I judge will imperil it'. (Suicide would apparently be wholly excluded, even amid all the miseries of the 'natural state.')

It is in strict accordance with this recognition of the impera­tiveness of the law that Hobbes always lays it down that obligation is not created by the sovereign when he issues his orders backed by threats of penalties. The moral obligation to obey the natural law is antecedent to the existence of the legislator and the civil society ; even in the 'state of nature' the law obliges 'in foro interno', though not, as Hobbes is careful to add, alwcrys 'in foro externo'. This is not a mere idle playing with words. Hobbes could have conveyed his meaning more unambiguously perhaps, if he had laid more stress on the point that the fundamental law of nature and morals, as he conceives it, is a law of reciprocal obligation : what it commands is peace with him who is willing also to be at peace with me, 'that peace is to be sought after, where it mtry be found', 'that every man ought to endeavour Peace, as farre as he has hope of obtaining it'. The caveat that the 'laws of nature oblige in foro inferno . . . but in foro externo, that is, to the putting them in act, not alwayes' is, after all, only meant to remind us that the obligations of these laws are reciprocal, and that where there is no common power to act as protector, a man has to judge for himself whether his desire for peace with me is reciprocated on my part. It has also a fuller implication, which Hobbes's unfriends have not always been fair enough to keep in mind. Whereas the civil law can only be infringed by overt acts or words, the moral law is violated by an improper thought or purpose. 'Whatsoever Lawes bind in foro inferno may be broken, not onely by a fact contrary to the Law, but also by a fact accord­ing to it, in case men think it contrary. For though the Action in this case; · be according to the Law; yet his Purpose was against the Law, which where the Obligation is in foro inferno is a breach'. (Leviathan, XV). 'The laws which oblige conscience, may be broken by an act not only contrary to them, but also agreeable with them ; if so be that he who does it, be of another opinion. For though the act itself be answerable to the laws, yet his conscience is against them.' (De Cive, III, 28)

42 A . E . TAYLOR

Hobbes is thus quite consistent with himself in maintaining that the natural law-unlike the civil-is 'immutable and eternal; what they [the 'laws of nature'] forbid, can never be lawful, what they command can never be unlawful. For pride, ingratitude, breach of contracts (or irgury), inhumanity, contume!J will never be lawful, nor the contrary virtues to these ever unlawful, as we take them for dispositions of the mind, that is, as they are coPside1ed in the court of conscience, where only they oblige and are laws' (De Cive, III, 29).

(The meaning of the last clause is only that an outward act which would otherwise have been an exhibition of pride, or a breach of contract, and therefore contrary to the moral law, may acquire a different character, at a particular place and time, owing to the dispositions of the civil law. Thus to exact marks of respect which h would be pride in a private man to demand, may be a proper proceeding on the part of an ambassador or a judge who has the dignity of his sovereign and his sovereign's courts of justice to maintain, and is consistent with the most perfect personal modesty. To desist ±rom fulfilling a contract which the law-courts have pronounced illegal and forbidden me to fulfil is not to show myself a promise-breaker and a man of bad faith, but to prove myself a good citizen ; it is my duty as executor under a friend's will not to pay legacies which the law has declared invalid, and so on.)

To do full justice to Hobbes we have to remember that the private man iv the civil state has other obligations besides that of 'keeping his covenant' by obeying all the commands and pro­hibitions of the civil law. There is a large range of action in respect to which the 'sovereign' has not laid down any specific commands, and here, Hobbes holds, I am obliged by the natural law to exhibit the 'equity' which he sums up in the traditional maxim not to do to another what I am unwilling to have done to myself. 'Justice' is not the whole of that to which a citizen is obliged, only, and quite naturally in view of the political disorders of the reign of Charles I and the Commonwealth, the practical importance of obedience to constituted authority is so great in Hobbes's eyes that it becomes his predominant theme ; it is e�sy to forget that he equally teaches that we are under an 'eternal obligation' to practise an equity which demands mercy, benevo­lence, gratitude, and to practise it because the law demands it.

THE TAYLOR THESIS 43 Since all obligation, including the obligation to honour my

'covenant' by strict obedience to the sovereign, is thus derived by Hobbes from a 'natural law' which is the 'dictate of reason', he really escapes from the charge brought against him by Cudworth of making moral distinctions the creation of 'meer will'. It is true that, according to him, there is one distinction which the sovereign does make by his 'meer will', that between just and urgust, urgust meaning by definition what the civil law forbids, and just what it permits. But the sovereign does not in this fashion make the antecedent and more important distinction between equity and iniquity ; his will does not create the iniquity of refusing him the obedience we have promised. And the declaration that he does create the distinction between justice and injustice is, in exposition, so whittled down that it loses a great deal of its apparent sting. Thus we learn that the sovereign does nothing to create the obligation to keep a 'covenant' ; all that he really does is to decree that the performance of certain 'covenants' is illegal, and to prescribe the precise forms of declaration of our intentions which his courts will regard as constituting a contract. So, we are told, he does not make adultery wrong ; it was wrong ante­cedently by the 'natural law' ; he merely decides 'what copulations' are to be regarded as adulterous.1 7 I suppose this means that in any case, independently of the authority of any civil law, we could lay it down that sexual connections which are incompatible with the existence of a civilized community are wrong and should be forbidden; but I should be taking too much upon me if I pre­sumed on my own authority to say just what sexual unions are so incompatible ; if I am a loyal citizen, I shall regard that as settled for me by the civil law. The law may, of course, make a mistake, exactly as Hobbes himself says, one monarch may wage an iniquitous war against another. But, as he argues with reference to that illustration, the iniquity of the war is not the guilt of the subject who is commanded to bear arms in it ; his business as a good subject is simply to obey the command of his own sovereign, to whom he has 'covenanted' to be loyal, and must therefore obey,

17 E.g. De Cive, XIV, 10. 'For though the law of nature forbid theft, adultery, etc. ; yet if the civil law command us to invade anything, that invasion is not theft, adultery, etc. For when the Lacedaemonians of old permitted their youths, by a certain law, to take away other men's goods, they commanded that these goods should not be accounted other men's, but their own who took them ; and therefore such surreptions were no thefts. In like manner, copulations of heathen sexes, according to their laws, were lawful marriages.'

44 A . E , T A Y L O R

if he is not to break the command of the natural law that 'cove­nants' are to be kept. He has thus discharged his own conscience ; if the command were iniquitous, the iniquity concerns only the sovereign who gave it, and he, according to Hobbes, will have to answer for it to God ; if the subject had broken his 'covenant' to obey his lawful sovereign on the strength of his personal belief that the command given him was iniquitous, the iniquity of the disobedience would have been with him. This is, of course, just the familiar doctrine, 'Theirs not to reason why ; Theirs but to do and die', a principle which perhaps few of us would care to apply as unrestrictedly as Hobbes does, but without some recognition of which all transaction of concerted human business would become impossible.IB

It must be remembered, however, that this unqualified sub­mission to the sovereign is regarded by Hobbes not as a mere counsel of safety, but as a strict moral obligation, and that the obligation is imported into it from the 'eternal' natural law that faith once given is to be kept, which is antecedent to the creation of political society. His view is not that in civilized societies the natural (or moral) law has been superseded by another, but that, in virtue of his theory of civil society as created by a 'covenant' of every member with every other to recognize the sovereign's commands as the rule of life, even when I disapprove of some particular command, I am strictly bound by a 'prior obligation', which I cannot violate without bad faith, to comply with it exactly as a judge is bound by his office to give sentence in accord with the law, even when he personally thinks the existing law a bad one.

If we grant Hobbes's assumptions about the dependence of 18 De Cive, XII, 3. 'Whatsoever any man doeth against his conscience, is a sin;

for he who doth so, contemns the law. But we must distinguish. That is my sin indeed, which committing I do believe to be my sin ; but what I believe to be another man's sin, I may sometimes do without any sin of mine. For if I be commanded to do that which is a sin in him who commands me, if I do it, and he that commands me be by right lord over me, I sin not . . . . They who observe not this distinction, will fall into a necessity of sinning, as oft as anything is commanded them which either is, or seems to be unlawful to them; for if they obey, they sin against their conscience ; and if they obey not, against right . . . . For by our taking upon us to judge of good and evil, we are the occasion that as well our obedience, as our dis­obedience, becomes sin unto us.' Clearly Hobbes would have been on the side of those who have regarded Sophocles's Antigone as simply criminal in her defiance of Creon. The doctrine, in its unqualified form, may have its dangers, but in the middle of the seventeenth century many 'subjects' needed the warning that the commands of a lawful authority are not to be disobeyed whenever they do not approve themselves to the private judgement of a subordinate.

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 45

civil society on the 'covenant', and the character of the 'covenant' itself, the duty of obeying the civil law, even where I personally think it to be iniquitous, follows as part of a consistent deontology. It is not a logical necessity of the system that we should also accept his egoistic moral psychology. Even if we reject this psychology in toto, so long as we grant the premises that civil society rests upon a 'covenant' to obey whatever shall be enacted as the 'law of the land', and that breach of covenant is always a violation of duty, the conclusion he wishes to draw will follow, viz., that I am only free to be guided by my personal opinion as to what is equity when the civil law has seen fit to leave me free.

(2) The strictly deontological character of Hobbes's thought comes out equally in the doctrine, essential to his argument, that the civil sovereign himself, who obviously cannot be subject to the jurisdiction of his own courts, but has been, in Hobbian language, 'authorized' in advance to command and forbid at his own discretion, is just as much under a rigid law of moral obliga­tion as his subjects. He is obliged to equity, the strict observance of the natural (or moral) law, which means, in effect, that he is bound to command and forbid always with a view to the good of the community (and, therefore, as Hobbes is careful to explain, to the practice of just judgement, humanity, mercy, and benevo­lence). And Hobbes's professed doctrine is that though no human court can take cognizance of the sovereign's shortcomings in this matter, he has always to reckon with the account he will yet have to render to God, who is no excepter of persons. A hasty reader of the Leviathan (though he would be a hasty one) may come away with the impression that Hobbes's sovereign has extensive rights, but nothing to speak of in the way of corres­ponding duties. The impression should be corrected by a perusal of De Cive, XIII, Concerning the Duties of those who bear R.ttle, a chapter of which I would particularly recommend the concluding sections (15-17), which deal with the way in which this duty is violated by 'princes' who unduly restrain the 'harmless liberty' of the subject by a multiplicity of superfluous laws, allow law to be stultified by the imposition of inadequate penalties or made odious by the infliction of unnecessary severities, or poison its administration by conniving at the corruption of judges by bribes and presents. All such misconduct on the part of 'princes' is constantly described by Hobbes as iniquity and sin.

46 A . E . T A L Y O R

Now since Hobbes also attempts t o reduce all iniquity in the end to breach of an express or implied contract, and since he also, as we all know, makes it so capital a point that the parties to the original contract by which civil society was created are not the 'sovereign' and the 'subject' (who only come into existence in virtue of the contract itself), but the individual items of a 'dis­solute multitude' which is not yet a society and has no legal personality, we might find a difficulty here. If the original contract, which must not be broken, imposed no conditions of any kind upon the future sovereign's arbitrary exercise of the power to command and forbid, how can he be said to be guilty of iniquiry if he chooses to issue a host of grandmotherly commands, to enforce them savagely, or to neglect enforcing them, or if he winks at the bribery of his judges ? He never covenanted with his subjects that he would not do these things ; if he does them, then, he breaks no 'covenant', and cannot be iniquitous, if iniquity and breach of contract are the same thing. Hence it is not unnatural that Hobbes should have been suspected of meaning no more by all his talk about the 'duties' of sovereigns than that a sovereign who acts in the ways he condemns is likely to draw unpleasant consequences on himself. Yet it is, I think, impossible not to feel that Hobbes is writing in earnest all through the chapter of the De Cive which deals with the duties of 'them who bear rule' : he does mean that in observing the rules he lays down rulers are only discharging a debitum, and Hobbes would have been the first to insist that a man cannot properly be said to owe a debt to himself. It must be remembered that he is always very careful to insist that in ruling with a single eye to the public good, the sovereign is doing what he is obliged to do by the 'natural law', and that, in his terminology, there is an essential difference between following a counsel and obeying a law. 'Counsel is a precept, in which the reason of my obeying it is taken from the thing itself which is advised; but command is a precept, in which the cause of my obedience depends on the will of the commande1. For it is not properly said that thus I will and thus I command, except the will stand for a reason. Now when obedience is yielded to the laws, not for the thing itself, but by reason of the adviser's will, the law is not a counsel but a command, and is defined thus : law is the command of the person, whether man or court, whose precept contains in it the reason of obedience . . • . Law belongs to him who hath

THE TAY L O R THESIS 47

power over those whom he adviseth; counsel to them who have no power. To follow what is prescribed by law, is dury; what by counsel is freewill' (De Cive, XIV, 1). If Hobbes had meant, then thai the sovereign who does the various things which he con­demns in a sovereign is acting in an ill-advised way, doing what he is likely hereafter to be sorry for, and nothing more, he ought, according to his own definitions, to have called the 'precepts' of De Cive, Xlll, simply counsels, not duties. If the ruler can be said to have duties at all, he must be himself subject to a law, i.e. to the command of some 'persons whose precept contains in it the reason of obedience'. (Here, again, we may remark an anticipa­tion of Kant, though with a difference. Hobbes means to say that a 'counsel' is exactly what Kant calls an ana!Jtic imperative; it takes the form 'do this, if (or since) you desire that, to which this is required as a means'. But a dutiful act is one of obedience to a law, for which obedience the motive is just that the law is law : is, in fact, in the Kantian not very well-chosen phrase, a .rynthetic imperative). If Hobbes is to be regarded as consistent with himself we must explain how, on his theory, the sovereign can be guilty of breach of faith, and how this breach of faith can be the violation of a command which is the command of a person (in the Hobbian sense), and 'contains in it the reason of obedience'.

Now as to the first point, there is something to be considered on which Hobbes himself has hardly laid all the stress he should have done. The sovereign, according to him, is created by a voluntary transference to him of what, in the 'state of nature', had been the personal right of each of his future subjects. What each of us transferred to the sovereign by this transaction W<!-S the right to prescribe at his discretion what we should do and omit. But the purpose of this transference was the promotion of the safety and commodious living of each of us. We did not renounce our claim to this when we renounced our claim to judge of our own discretion how it may be attained. And, though the 'renun­ciation' was made not by a contract between the sovereign 'of the one part' and the 'people' of the other part, but by one between each individual man and every other, in which the sovereign is a beneficiary, but not a party, Hobbes is quite dear on the point that to make the transaction complete there must be an acceptance of the proposed transfer of rights by the beneficiary. 'In the conveyance of right, the will is requisite not only of him that

48 A . E . TAYLOR

conveys, but of him also that accepts it. If either be wanting, the right remains' (De Cive, II, 5). Hence, though Hobbes does not say very much on the point, there is a bargain to which the sove­reign is a party in the constitution of civil society. He is not a party to the bargain, of which Hobbes speaks in particular, between you and me to divest ourselves of most of our 'natural right', he alone has divested himself of none of it. But, as the beneficiary under the bargain, to whom the 'rights' you and I lay down are transferred, he accepts the transfer, and in accepting it must be supposed to understand and accept the provision that the powers transferred to him are to be exercised for the preserva­tion and commodity of all of us. This does not affect the conclusion Hobbes is most anxious to establish, that you and I cannot equitably cashier the sovereign or call him to account, since we are supposed to have agreed together to authorize beforehand whatever commands the sovereign may, in his arbitrary discretion, think good to give. We may not rebel because we think that what he commands is not conducive to the ends for which the transfer of right was made, since we expressly agreed that he was to be the judge of what is so conducive. But it is enough to show that there really is a bargain, to which the sovereign is a party by his acceptance of the sovereignty, that the transferred rights shall be exclusively used in the ways which the sovereign honestly believes to further the end aimed at in the transference; and this is enough to explain why, even on the assumption that all 'iniquity' can be reduced to breach of contract -an assumption which Hobbes can hardly be said to carry through with complete success-the sovereign can be said to be capable of 'iniquity', to be bound by the natural law, and to have a variety of exacting duties. By accepting the sovereignty he has virtually contracted, not indeed to submit his commands to the judgement of any council or body of ministers, but to use them only as he, in his conscience, deems to be for the common safety and welfare. Hence iniquity on his part, too, though not an offence of which any court can take cognizance, could be brought at a pinch, without any departure from the main lines of Hobbes's thought, under the head of breach of the great law that 'men perform their covenants once made'.

(3) There still remains a further point for consideration. Sovereigns, we are told, have duties ; a duty means 'following

THE TAYLOR THESI S 49

what is prescribed by law', and a law is 'the command of the person . . . whose precept contains in it the reason of obedience'.

If the fulfilling of the law of nature is a duty in the sovereign, it follows that the law of nature is a cotn111and, and a command the reason for obedience whereto is that it is the precept of a 'person' with the right to command. What 'person', then, is this, whose commands are binding on princes because they are his commands ? Not the 'natural person' of any man, since Hobbes denies the existence of any universal monarch of the earth; not a 'court' composed of many 'natural persons', since there is no such 'court' with jurisdiction over the independent princes of the world. I can only make Hobbes's statements consistent with one another by supposing that he meant quite seriously what he so often says, that the 'natural law' is the command of God, and to be obeyed because it is God's command. Its clauses are 'theorems', because they are discoverable by the unaided use of clear and rational thinking. But if they are also commands, then on Hobbes's principles they are commands laid by one will upon another; no man, as Hobbes puts it, can oblige himself, because, being at once obliger and obliged, he could equally release himself at will from his obligation. 'It were merely in vain for a man to be obliged to himself, because he can release himself at his own pleasure, and he that can do this is already actually free' (De Cive, VI, 14). 'No man can be obliged except it be to another' (ibid., XII, 4). It would seem to follow that the rules of natural 'equity' cannot be commands, or laws, and therefore compliance with them a dury, so long as we know no more about them than that they are con­clusions rightly collected by reason. To recognize them as laws, we must also know that they are the commands of God, and since Hobbes teaches that a law which binds in foro inferno is not really complied with unless there was a formal intention to obey it as law, we do not really fulfil the demands of equity unless we obey the divine command as such, because i� is a divine command.

On the question how we know that the 'theorems' which figure in Hobbes's text are' commands of God, the answer seems to me to vary from one exposition to another. From a passage already quoted from the Ele111ents of Law it would look as though the 'theorems' obtain this fuller character of being divine laws from their being laid down as commands in Scripture. If that is so, it should consistently be added that they are not laws, but

B

50 A . E . T A Y L O R

remain simply true 'theorems' everywhere outside the 'kingdom of God by covenant', i.e. that they are only laws to the Jews and Christians who recognize the authority of the Scriptures to which Hobbes appeals. Yet in De Cive, XV, 4-5, we meet another different theory. There we are told that God has a two-fold kingdom, 'natural, in which he reigns by the dictates of right reason; and which is universal over all who acknowledge the divine power by reason of that rational nature which is common to all', and 'prophetical, in which he rules also by the word of prophecy; which is peculiar, because he hath not given positive laws to all men, but to his peculiar people and some certain men elected by him'. It is then added that in the natural kingdom God's right to rule is founded solely on his irresistible power (whereas in the prophetical kingdom, as is explained in detail in the sections of De Cive and Leviathan devoted to the subject of religion, God's sovereignty over the 'elected' rests on a covenant). It seems to follow that according to this version of the doctrine, the natural law is a law (and not merely a collection of true theorems) for all men except atheists (whom Hobbes always regards not as disobe­dient subjects of God, but as aliens, outside God's kingdom.)19 We should, in consistency, have to suppose that the knowledge that the natural law is the command of God may be attained independently of acquaintance with the Jewish and Christian Scriptures. I do not know whether there is any way of reconciling the various passages, nor how, if the view of the De Cive is adopted, Hobbes supposes persons unacquainted with the Scrip­tures to have discovered that the natural law is a command of God. But we are, I think, bound to believe that he means what he says when he calls it such a command; in no other way can we make his explicit statements about the connection between the notions of a duty, a command, and a law coherent with each other. A certain kind of theism is absolutely necessary to make the theory work.

19 I confess here to finding a real difficulty in understanding how Hobbes could hold that mere irresistible power can be the foundation of a moral cbligation. In strict consistency, should he not have held that the moral obligation to obey the natural, which is also the divine, law only covers the case of Israelites in the past, and Christians in the present, who are subjects of God in virtue of a 'covenant,' by which they are pledged to 'faith and obedience' (or, when they have erred through frailty, to repentance) ? As the omnipotent Lord of all things, God is only king over 'infidels' in the same sense in which He is king over the beasts whose subjection to his 'irresistible power' is not supposed to give rise to any obligations.

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 51

The reasons which used to be given in the nineteenth century for supposing these theistic utterances to be insincere verbiage are really not creditable to the knowledge or intelligence of the writers who used them. In substance they only amount to this, that Hobbes always insists strongly on the incomprehensibility of the divine nature, and on the impossibility of our having a 'conception' of God, and that he points out in particular the danger of anthropomorphism attending the ascription of intellect and will to God. (The difficulty is that in us, according to Hobbes, will is appetite ; the 'last appetite in deliberation', and intellection has its beginning in 'sense' ; but clearly we cannot ascribe appetite and 'sense' to the infinite and irresistible being.) Utterances of this kind are so far from being necessarily expressions of atheism that they are the common stock-in-trade of orthodox Christian scholastics. If Hobbes said that we have no conception of God, it was the universal scholastic doctrine that the essentia of God cannot be known to us in this life ; though we can answer the question an sit Deus, we have to leave the question quid Deus sit to be solved in a better world. Neither will nor intellect, nor any­thing else, according to the greatest of the scholastics, can be univocal(y predicated of God and of any creature. When Hobbes in De Corpore threw doubt on the value of philosophic arguments for the beginriliig of the universe in time, he was only repeating that which had long before been more fully urged by St. Thomas. When he says-and the words have actually been used in support of the allegation of 'atheism' -that we may only attribute to God two kinds of predicates, negative predicates which deny of Him anything which is a mark of limitation, and superlatives which, by their form, indicate that there is no comparison between Him and the creatures of whom the same epithets are predicated in the positive degree, he is, consciously or not, reproducing the teaching and phraseology of the de divinis nominibus of 'Dionysius the Areopagite', a writer sympathetically expounded by St. Thomas. Clearly arguments which, if valid, would prove the atheism of most of the schoolmen, including the Doctor angelicus, prove nothing about that of Hobbes. On the other hand, he seems always to accept at its face value the argument that the universe (=the aggregate of bodies) must have a cause, and since, on his own definition of causation, nothing can be causa sui, it follows at once (1) that the 'cause of the universe' is neither itself

52 A . E . TAYLOR

(the 'aggregate of bodies') nor any part of itself, and (2) that, i f as Hobbes held, nothing can be conceived but body, this cause, though certainly known by the causal argument to exist, must be incomprehensible to us. The internal consistency of this doctrine seems to me to be the best proof that it was sincerely held. (There is, perhaps, a certain inconsistency between Hobbes's definition of cause and effect, for which it should follow that a cause is always temporally prior to its effect, and the doubt expressed in the De Corpore about the validity of the reasons given for a beginning of the world in time. 20 But the utmost that this proves, I think, is only that Hobbes had not thought out the implications of the problem to the end. He has been laughed at for leaving the question undecided until it shall be authori­tatively determined by the sovereign. But he is here again in the company of St. Thomas. Both leave the last word on the matter to the authorized interpreter of Scripture. The only difference between them is that St. Thomas's authorized interpreter is the ecclesiastical power, and it has already given its decision; Hobbes's is the temporal, and its decision cannot be known until the 'sword' has finally settled who is to be the temporal sovereign in England.)

2o The relevant facts are these : (1) Hobbes express.ly says, here agreeing completely with St. Thomas, that no

good reasons can be g1ven why the world should have had a beginning (De Corpore, 1'-:, 26,1 . . I quote fr?m the text of 166?)· Illos igitur qui mundi originem aliquam fU1sse ratwmbus su1s a rebus naturahbus demonstrasse se iactitant laudare non possum. . . . Nonne qui aeternitatem mundi sic tollunt, eadem opera etiam mundi conditori aeternitatem tollunt.

(2) According to the definitions of cause and effect given in the same work (II, 9, 3), a causa integra (entire cause) is the 'aggregate of all the accidents both of the agents how many soever they be, and of the patient put together; which when they are all supposed to be present (omnibus suppositis) it cannot be understood but �hat the effect is produced a.t the.same instant (quin effectus una sit productus) and 1f any one of them be wantmg, 1t cannot be understood but that the effect is not produced,' and we are consequently told 'quo instante causa sit integra, eadem quoque effectum esse productem.' Thus the 'entire cause,' including the requisite conditions 'is the patient,' and the effects are simultaneous. But Hobbes infers from this very proposition the 'causation and the production of effects consist in a certain continual progress' (ibid., II, 9, 6), and this seems to imply that the 'agent ' if not the 'patient,' also has an existence which is temporally prior to the 'effect:' If this principle can be extended to the causation of the universe it would follow that the �niverse is not eterna�. I suppose, however, .that Hobbes, �ho held that philosophy 1s only concerned w1th those thmgs of wh1ch there are 'generations,' could quite consistently have said that the principle, being a philosophical one, must not be applied to God, nor yet to the 'world' if the world is 'eternal,' and that the question therefore remains open for us as philosophers, though as good subjects we must acquiesce in the sentence of the sovereign, if he thinks fit to pronounce on the matter.

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S 53

The 'incomprehensibility' of God, so far from being incon­sistent with the thesis that the natural law is a divine command, actually serves to remove a possible objection. If God were comprehensible, it is conceivable that accurate knowledge of His nature might prove that nature to be such that we cannot think of it as the source of commands which oblige mankind. But if the nature of God is an inscrutable mystery, then this very inscru­tability makes it impossible to use our inability to understand how God commands us as any argument against the fact that He does so command us, provided that the fact appears to be sufficiently authenticated. If a man finds evidence for the fact either in the witness of our sense of imperative obligation itself, or in the coincidence of the 'theorems' of 'right reason' with the injunc­tions of Scripture, a Hobbist cannot retort on him by alleging, to use the unlovely diction of modern slangishness, that 'ultimate reality is unethical', and therefore cannot be the source of moral commands and prohibitions. As we simply do not know what the 'ultimate reality' is (have no 'conception' of it), we are talking idly when we pretend to know that it is 'non-ethical'.

My own belief, for whatever it may be worth, is that Hobbes simply meant what he said about the natural law as a command of God, and that he was led to this conviction not so much by the Scriptural testimonies which he produces in such profusion, as by the unusual depth of his own sense of moral obligation. The impression repeated study of his works leaves on me is that Hobbes was a fundamentally honest man, and a man, as Professor Laird has said, with an almost overwhelming sense of duty. To such a man the thought that duty is a divine command is so natural that it is almost impossible not to form it. And I conceive that Hobbes's religion-for, in spite of De Quincey's jests, I think it clear he had one-consisted, as Kant's did, almost exclusively in the discharge of the duties of everyday morality with an accompanying sense of their transcendent obligatorlness. It is clear that he was not 'religious' in any deeper sense of the word; the worship of the heart was plainly not congenial to him, and his theories, in fact, make any direct personal relation between the worshipper and his god illusory. But such as it was, his religion does impress me as a genuine thing, and it is not very different from that of many worthy persons of to-day who would be sincerely shocked if they were to be accused of 'atheism'. It

54 A . E . T A Y L O R

seems t o me that when we make the necessary allowances for ways of thinking which were current in the middle of the seventeenth century but are now obsolete, Hobbes may have been more in earnest than is usually allowed in supplementing this religion of the duty of a citizen with the one 'article of faith' that Jesus is yet to reappear in Palestine and reign endlessly in temporal felicity over resuscitated believers. Such a 'faith' would have no chance of being accepted as 'the good Christianity' if it were to be proclaimed to-day. But I do not think it impossible that a man living in the welter of conflicting and bitterly hostile creeds of all kinds prevalent in England in the period 1640-50 may have fancied that something of this kind would emerge at last as the simple 'substance of the faith'.21

My serious concern, however, is not with what may have been Hobbes's personal opinions on these things, and I only make the remarks of the last paragraph by very free protest against the too facile assumption that there is nothing in the scriptural exegesis with which Leviathan in particular abounds, beyond an ingenious treating of the ecclesiastics with their own weapons. The point I am really anxious to make is that Hobbes's ethical theory is commonly misrepresented and unintelligently critized for want of sufficient recognition that it is, from first to last, a doctrine of duty, a strict deontology. It is true that Charles IT had the good taste to enjoy the philosopher's conversation, and that the White­hall of the Restoration is an unlikely quarter in which to find a deontologist. But Hobbes, after all, was not so very often at Whitehall, and he does not belong to the age of the Restoration

21 I certainly do not myself think that the feats of Biblical interpretation in the Leviathan are, in the main, a mere game. Hobbes's exegeses, where they are opposed to those generally current in his time, are often manifestly sound, and even where to our better informed age they are not sound, they may well have seemed so to their seventeenth-century author. It is only i n a small minority of cases that he seems to me to be merely 'answering a fool according to his folly.' It should always be remembered that Hobbes has an admirable practical purpose in his endeavour to reduce the articles of belief 'necessary to salvation' to a minimum. He wants, in an intolerant age, to put an end to persecution for speculative dis­agreements without challenging the generally accepted view that it is the sovereign's duty to 'cause such a doctrine and worship to be taught and practised' as he believes 'necessarily conducive to the eternal salvation' of his subjects (De Cive, XIII, 5). And he held, as we see from his Behemoth, that the ultimate cause of the great re­bellion had been the zeal of Presbyterian ministers to enforce all their own personal opinions on points of speculative divinity as 'necessary to salvation.' Persecution, he thinks, will cease if the sovereign insists on no article as fundamental beyond the recognition of Jesus as the future Messianic king, and the subject understands that conformity to the established worship does not imply speculative agreement in opinion, except on this single point.

T H E TAYLOR T H E S I S 55 wits. He is the contemporary of Clarendon, Falkland, and Selden, not of Rochester, Etherege, and Villiers.

N.B.-I have in the text omitted to quote what is perhaps the most important single sentence of Hobbes about obligation. In view of its definiteness, I give it both in the Latin and the English forms. De Cive, XIV, 2, annot.-Clarius ergo hoc dico. Pacto obligari hominem, id est propter promissionem praestare debere. Lege vero obligatum teneri, id est metu poenae quae in Lege constituitur, ad praestationem cogi. Philosophical Rudiments concerning Government and Society, XIV, 2.-More dearly, therefore, I say thus : that a man is obliged by his contracts, that is, that he ought to perform for his promise' sake ; but that the law ties him being obliged, that is to say, it compels him to make good his promise for fear of the punishment appointed by the law.

The clear distinction thus made between the obligation and the subsequent compulsion through the 'penal sanction' (a distinction merely overlooked in Bentham's statement that 'a Sanction is a source of obligatory powers or motives') explains at once how Hobbes could maintain that the 'laws of nature' oblige in foro inferno even before the creation of civil society, that in civil society they continue to oblige wherever the civil law has issued no injunctions, and that they oblige the sovereign himself, who is inamenable to the civil law.* The obligatory force of the civil law itself is, in fact, derived entirely from that of the natural. If we are always to obey the civil law, even when in our private opinion it is inequitable, that is because we are already obliged, in virtue of the natural law itself, to honour our 'previous engage­ment' to be directed by the commands of the sovereign. I am always sure that to break this engagement is inequitable, whereas my personal opinion that the act the sovereign commands me to do is inequitable is, in Hobbes's eyes, never more than a conjecture, and even if I have conjectured rightly, the answer­ability for the iniquity of the act so commanded lies not with me, but with the sovereign.

* [In the original article, the beginning of this sentence reads : 'The clear distinc. tion thus made between the obligation and the subsequent compulsion though the 'penal sanction' is (a distinction merely . . . . ' Ed.]

3 T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S : S O M E O B J E C T I O N S

Stuart M. Brown, Jr. (i)

J\ LTHOUGH any one of several considerations can be employed I"\.. to prove the Taylor thesis false, I shall state only two.

First, there is Hobbes's own :repeated and consistent testimony about what he is doing in the political treatises. According to Hobbes, the principal doctrines of a political theory have practical implications adverse to the interests of men and, for this reason, tend to remain unsettled and controversial.1 To overcome this difficulty and to gain some measure of acceptance for his theory, the political philosopher must establish his principal doctrines by a rigorous argument from premises whose truth cannot be denied. In each one of the three political treatises, Hobbes claims to overcome the difficulty in just this way :

To reduce this doctrine [of justice and policy in general] to the rules and infallibility of reason, there is no way, but first to put such principles down for a foundation, as passion not mis­trusting, may not seek to displace; and afterward to build thereon the truth of cases in the law of nature (which hitherto have been built in the air) by degrees, till the whole be inex­pugnable.2 Having therefore thus arrived at two maxims of human nature, . . . I seem from them to have demonstrated by a most evident connection, in this little work of mine, first the absolute necessity of leagues and contracts, and thence the rudiments both of moral and civil prudence. a And as to the whole doctrine, I see not yet, but the principles of it are true and proper; and the ratiocination solid. For I ground the civil right of sovereigns, and both the duty and liberty of subjects, upon the known natural inclinations of mankind, and upon the articles of the law of nature ; of which no man, that pretends but reason enough to govern his private family, ought to be ignorant.4 1 Elements, Epistle Dedicatory, p. xvii. ' Ibid., p. xvii. 8 De Cive. The Epistle Dedicatory. ' Leviathan. A Review and Conclusion, pp. 465-466.

58 S T U A R T M . B R OWN J R .

In this manner Hobbes, speaking for himself, directly contra­dicts the Taylor thesis. He explicitly denies, and on his own view of political theory cannot even in principle admit, that his ethical theory is independent of his psychology. As an account of Hobbes in terms of what Hobbes himself thinks and is trying to accom­plish, the Taylor thesis is therefore false.

By directly contradicting Hobbes those who adopt the Taylor thesis expound Hobbes on the presumption that he fails to make out the logical relationships required by his theory. On the Taylor thesis, one does not establish Hobbes's failure by a direct examination of his arguments. Taylor does not even acknowledge that his thesis implies Hobbes's failure and takes no cognizance whatsoever of Hobbes's own testimony. Oakeshott thinks that Hobbes may have failed on some standards of logical rigour and theoretical adequacy, but insists that the standards on which he fails are our own, modern standards which cannot legitimately be imposed on seventeenth-century thinkers.5 Warrender takes brief notice of Hobbes's testimony only by way of rejecting it on the merely general grounds that Hobbes's thought is much less rigorous than is commonly supposed. 6 Presuming failure, one proceeds, as Warrender puts it, 'to piece together Hobbes's argu­ment in so far as it may legitimately be done.'7

But clearly, the standards of theoretical adequacy and logical rigour are Hobbes's own : they are self-imposed by a political philosopher who, whatever his failures, argues with extraordinary power and singleness of purpose. To disregard these standards, to interpret Hobbes as if any such standards were irrelevant, and to piece together out of Hobbes a body of doctrine logically independent of his theory, is to emasculate him. It is to present, as Hobbes's theory, a set of doctrines which he does not articulate and support by arguments and which, it is admitted, cannot logically be supported by his arguments. For what Hobbes demands of political theory is logical support for moral and political doctrines which would otherwise remain unestablished and controversial ; and what on the Taylor thesis is presented as his theory is a set of doctrines which, lacking the required support, cannot constitute the theory.

5 Oakeshott, Introduction to Leviathan, p. lxiii. 6 Warrender, The Political Philosophy of Hobbes, p. 2. 7 Ibid.

THE T A Y L O R THES I S : SOME O B J E C T I O N S 59

Viewed in this light, the Taylor thesis must either deny that Hobbes has a theory or fail to present a significant alternative to the traditional interpretation. Both Oakeshott and Warrender seem at times to accept the first alternative. They both appear to suppose that Hobbes's thought is too lacking in clarity, precision, and rigour to state a systematic theory of the sort Hobbes himself thinks he is presenting. 8 But on this supposition interpretations based on the Taylor thesis are absurd. For if Hobbes's thought is so loose as to justify ignoring what he presents as his theory, it is absurd for a commentator to expound as Hobbes's real theory a set of doctrines which satisfy strict tests of clarity and consistency. The only acceptable alternative is the second ; viz., that the Taylor thesis emphasizes a side of Hobbes which has generally been ignored but fails to present a significant alternative to the traditional interpretation. What characterizes the traditional view is that it takes Hobbes seriously as a philo­opher arguing step by step to establish the details of his position. On the traditional view the question as to whether Hobbes succeeds or fails is never begged nor settled on merely gef'et::al grounds ; it is answered, always with regard to specific steps in his arguments, by a detailed analysis of the relevant passages. But there is nothing inconceivable about a political philosopher, Hobbes or any other, importing into his discussions of obligation a number of moral doctrines which either cannot be derived from or cannot be made consistent with logically primary theses of his position. If Hobbes does this at any crucial point in his argument, then he blunders, and the argument is defective at just this point. The traditional view neither denies that Hobbes may blunder by importing such moral doctrines into his theory nor that these moral doctrines, once isolated, may turn out to be self-consistent and illuminating of Hobbes's own moral convic­tions. 9 What the traditional view denies is (1) the propriety of treating a self-consistent set of moral doctrines, illicitly imported

8 Oakeshott, op. cit., p. lxviii; Warrender, op. cit., pp. 1-2. 9A moral or political philosopher who pursues his argument relentlessly to

conclusion� that are incompatible with his own deep moral convictions may none­theless at times express these convictions in his philosophical writings. When this occurs, there will be a body of moral doctrine stating the convictions '<�S distinct from and inconsistent with a body of philosophical doctrine stating the conclusions of the argument. The question is whether or not there is a systematic inconsistency in Hobbes's writings and, if there is, whether it is explicable in this way. I neither beg nor answer this question here. The point is that, whatever the correct answer may be, the traditional interpretation can accommodate it.

60 S T U A R T M . B R OWN J R .

into a theory, as constituting the theory itself; and (2) the pro­priety of assuming without proof that a set of moral doctrines has been illicitly imported into a theory. Only out of confusion can one be led to affirm what the traditional view denies. The value of work on the Taylor thesis would be substantially increased rather than diminished if it were presented not as a new interpretation alternative to the traditional one but as an elucida­tion of a side of Hobbes which the tradition, with its strong philosophical bias, has tended to ignore. Unencumbered by the necessity to treat doctrine as theory, the Taylor thesis could then be employed to illuminate Hobbes, as a man whose own moral and political convictions were not at every point compatible with the logical implications of his argument. In any case, the traditional view is in no way weakened or superseded, as Nagel has shown, by confusing Hobbes with Hobbism and presenting his moral convictions as his ethical theory.10

The second consideration which proves the Taylor thesis false is that the moral doctrine, pieced together out of Hobbes and expounded sympathetically as a self-consistent theory, is in fact inconsistent and philosophically untenable.

Those who adopt the Taylor thesis must present on Hobbes's behalf a theory in which the concept of obligation is moral, as distinct from prudential or legal, and in which this moral concept is explicated without recourse to psychological considerations. But this task is impossible of fulfilment. For in Hobbes the notion of covenant is employed as an indispensable logical link between political obligation on the one hand and psychological con­siderations on the other. It is employed to connect the obligation to obey the law with those human desires and aversions which give every citizen a stake in the institution of government. The duties of citizenship, that is, presuppose an obligation made out in terms of covenant, and covenanting presupposes interests at stake. On the Taylor thesis this chain of presuppositions must be broken at a point where the moral considerations will lie together completely isolated from considerations of interest

1 0 'Hobbism' is simply a name for Hobbes's theory as it was understood by Hobbes's contemporaries and by the subsequent tradition of British moral and political philosophy. To substitute 'Hobbes' for 'Hobbism' is to introduce in a question-begging way a new theory never systematically expounded by Hobbes himself. As Dorothea Krook points out (op. cit., pp. 223-224), this may conceal from us those elements in Hobbes's theory which outraged his contemporaries and which repel many modern readers.

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S : S OM E U l:! J E C T I O N S 61

explicated in psychological terms. But the moral notions in Hobbes are so connected, logically, with psychological ones that they cannot be isolated and still make sense. Thus the concept of obligation actually isolated by Taylor and the others turns out to be legal rather than moral. But Taylor, Oakeshott, and Warrender wish to expound for Hobbes a distinctively moral theory of obligation. They therefore introduce moral considera­tions to which neither they nor Hobbes, on this view of him, are entitled ; and the moral doctrine attributed to Hobbes is incon­sistent.

In Oakeshott this inconsistency shows up as a flat self-contra­diction. His first explanation of the obligation to obey the sovereign is stated in terms of covenanting and is moral : the reason why I am obliged to obey is that 'I have authorized this Sovereign, "avouched" his actions, and am "bound by my own act" .'11 But in the second sentence following, this moral explana­tion is flatly contradicted and restated in terms of positive law : the covenant itself is not 'morally obligatory and, not being a law (the will of the Sovereign), it does not itself make any conduct morally obligatory'. Oakeshott then goes on to say that 'this and any other covenant may become obligatory if and when the sovereign authority commands its observation.'12 Thus, Oake­shott's account of obligation is, in the end, legal rather than moral, though he tries, at the cost of self-contradiction, to make it moral rather than legal.

Precisely the same difficulty is present in Taylor's original paper. Taylor begins by asserting that, according to Hobbes, a man is obliged to be a good citizen because he is party to a covenant and has pledged his word to be one.13 But Taylor then proceeds to argue that all obligation, including the obligation to honour covenants made, is derived by Hobbes from the laws of nature conceived as the commands of God.14 Again, the contra­diction : I am obliged because I have covenanted ; but as there would be no obligation to keep covenants unless some authority, God or civil sovereign, commands it, covenants of themselves do not oblige.

Warrender expounds Hobbes in such a way as to conceal the difficulty. Elaborating an argument in Taylor, Warrender holds

11 Oakeshott, op. cit., p. lx. 18 See p. 37, above.

12 Ibid. 14 See p. 50, above.

62 S T U A R T M . B R O WN J R .

that the laws of nature must be interpreted in one or the other of two logically distinct ways. Either they must be interpreted in terms of the psychological theory, as prudential rules con­cerning what men, similarly constituted and similarly situated, will do after deliberation ; or they must be interpreted in terms of the legal theory, as laws properly so called and the commands of God. But there is no moral obligation to obey rules stating how men will act after deliberation and consideration of all relevant facts. Because Hobbes believes that there are moral obligations in a state of nature to seek peace and keep covenants, and because these obligations are formulated in terms of natural law, natural law in Hobbes must be interpreted as laws properly so called, the commands of God. Unless they are so interpreted, Warrender insists, Hobbes has no distinctively moral theory.u Thus Warrender always states the reason why men are obliged in terms of God's commands. He avoids the contradiction, explicit in Taylor and Oakeshott, by never giving Hobbes's account of obligation solely in terms of a covenant or pledge.

But this conceals the difficulty at the very same cost of attributing an absurdity to Hobbes. For Warrender concludes his account of the covenant as follows :

Not all of the obligations of the citizen derive from covenant and his own consent; there exist obligations logically prior to those contracted which are imposed by natural laws. The first of these laws commands us to seek peace and from this is derived, among other principles, the rule itself which requires men to honour valid covenants. Logically, therefore, the prior instrument of obligation is natural law which does not fall under covenant but guarantees the obligatory character of what has been covenanted, and the ground of obligation is revealed when the duty to observe natural law is explained.l6

The absurdity in these passages is the clear implication that there could in principle be valid covenants without, however, any obligation to fulfill them. For natural law, interpreted as the command of God, does not guarantee performance. It only guarantees, what the notion of covenant implies, the obligation to perform.

The same kind of absurdity comes out in a different but even more serious way in Warrender's treatment of the difference

15 Warrender, op. cit., pp. 212-213, 220, 232-233. 16 Ibid., p. 248.

T H E TA Y LOR T H E S I S : S OME O BJE C T I O N S 63

between atheists and theists with respect to obligation.l7 The atheist understands the laws of nature as maxims of prudence. He does not understand and in fact denies that they are the commands of God and therefore laws in the strict sense. For this reason the atheist has no obligations. He stands to God as an enemy in a state of war. The theist, on the other hand, is obliged, just because he acknowledges the existence of God, God's sovereignty in a natural kingdom, and the laws of nature as God's commands. But on this account natural law has no intrinsic moral content ; otherwise the atheist would be obliged to obey them. Moreover, law in the strict sense, the command of a sovereign one has covenanted to obey, implies no obligation ; otherwise, again, the atheist would be obliged and it would not be necessary to provide a guarantee of the obligatory character of covenants. What follows from this, however, is that no one, not even the theist, is obliged. For to say that natural law is the command of God is simply to say that a set of rules, lacking in moral content, is law in the strict sense. If an atheist cannot incur an obligation to obey civil law, simply by acknowledging the status of the civil sovereign, then neither I nor anybody can incur an obligation to obey natural law simply by acknowledging the status of God as sovereign in a kingdom of nature. What Warrender attributes to Hobbes as a theory of obligation is a position on which no one can be obliged at all. Absurd as this consequence is, it is not surprising if one begins by supposing that considerations of private interest are morally irrelevant, that one can covenant without incurring obligations, and that acknow­ledging the status of the civil sovereign implies no duties.

Because of these absurdities which must be attributed to Hobbes on the Taylor thesis, the thesis fails. The whole point of adopting the thesis is to expound for Hobbes a moral theory that is free of major inconsistencies and contradictions. The con­tention is that Hobbes's theory can be made self-consistent and philosophically defensible if it is interpreted as logically inde­pendent of the psychology. But this contention is false. Either the old and familiar difficulties in Hobbes are reappearing in a new guise or altogether new difficulties, based on mistakes which he himself does not make, are being created for him. Regardless of which alternative is correct, the Taylor thesis fails.

u Ibid., pp. 315-317

64 S T U A R T M . B R OWN J R .

In fact, however, the second alternative is correct ; the Taylor thesis creates altogether new difficulties for Hobbes, and these difficulties are based on mistakes which he did not make.

(ii) In all of the political treatises the principal question before

Hobbes is, Why are men obliged to submit unconditionally to the civil state ? Hobbes is fully convinced that men are obliged to submit unconditionally and is fully aware that this conviction is extremely controversial. His task, therefore, is to establish this obligation by rigorous argument from premises which are uncon­troversial. In the political treatises Hobbes's interest in any other questions is ancillary or peripheral. It is, therefore, a mistake to suppose, with Taylor and Warrender, that Hobbes is addressing himself to two logically distinct questions and that these questions are, Why ought I to do my duty ? and, How is it psychologically possible for me to do it ? The first of these questions implies that men already know what their duties are but do not know why they ought to do them. This leads directly to the absurdity of requiring some guarantee for the obligatory character of valid covenants and conceals from us the necessity of establishing the extremely controversial thesis concerning unconditional sub­mission. The second question, concerning how it is psychologic­ally possible for rot or anyone to do his duty, is of only peripheral interest. For if the obligation of unconditional submission can be established, the sovereign is j ustified in employing the sanctions necessary to secure obedience. Finally, to assume that Hobbes is asking these two questions implies, what is false, that he wants to make a radical distinction between strictly moral and strictly prudential questions. Hobbes makes no such distinction. What he claims to establish in De Cive are 'the rudiments both of moral and of civil prudence'.18 Indeed, it would be a fatal defect in his argument if the obligation of unconditional submission were based wholly on nonprudential considerations.

The principal question before Hobbes is not prima facie a philosophical question at all, It is a question in moral and civil prudence about how to establish the particular obligation of unconditional submission to the civil state. One temptingly easy answer to this question is not open to Hobbes. Although he may

18 De Cive, The Epistle Dedicatory.

• I

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S : S O M E OBJ E C T I O N S 65

be entitled as a consequence of his enquiry to define obligation in terms of law, he cannot initially and directly appeal to any such definition. For this would beg the question and fail to convince anyone. A person who seriously doubts whether it is ever obligatory to keep covenants shows, by his doubts,· that he does not understand what covenanting is. But a person who doubts the obligation of unconditional submission to law does not, in any analogous way, show that he fails to understand what law or obligation is. What such a person doubts and denies is that legal duties, which he may acknowledge, take precedence over all others, including prudential obligations and the dictates of private conscience. Hobbes's argument must be designed to resolve the doubts of a man who already understands obligation in the sense implied by valid covenants and who also understands law in the sense implied by theft, trespass, attainder, and the like.

Now, there are two distinct grounds for doubting Hobbes's contention concerning unconditional submission. There are moral and prudential grounds. These consist of widely accepted rules or principles which in certain conceivable circumstances justify acts of civil disobedience. There are, in addition, philo­sophical grounds for doubt. These consist of certain logical considerations which show that the notion of obligation is conditional, and of the puzzle as to how, this being so, there can be an obligation to submit unconditionally.

The beauty of Hobbes's theory is that both of these two grounds for doubt are disposed of in one direct argument. That obligation is logically a conditional notion is not only admitted ; the conditions are made out in considerable detail. Our use of ought, Hobbes insists, is meaningful only if we presuppose or take for granted both that men can do their duty and that duties on the whole are directly or indirectly productive of what men themselves regard as their own good.19 But from this it follows that there will be an obligation to submit unconditionally to law only if, in terms of w�t men regard as their own good, the stake of each man in the preservation of civil government is of supreme magnitude. Hobbes undertakes to establish that the stake is of this sort. The argument establishing this meets the moral, as distinct from the philosophical, objection to his principal con­tention. It is given mainly in the psychology, and employs

19 Leviathan, pp. 86-87, 90-91. F

66 S T U A R T M . BR OWN J R .

psychological concepts like desire and aversion. Whether or not it is completely successful, it is remarkably strict.

In bare outline the argument is as follows :

1. Men strive ceaselessly to obtain certain objects and to avoid others ; but different men, and even one man at different times, strive for different things. 2o

2. The objects men strive to obtain they call good ; those they strive to avoid they call evil. 21

2.1. Each man of necessity desires his own good. 22

2.2. What one man counts as good another may count as evil.

3. Power is but a man's means of obtaining goods and avoid­ing evils. 23

3.1 . Men ceaselessly desire power.

3.2. The power men actually seek is relative both to the aims of a particular man and to each man's private assessment of the means he must accumulate in order to assure future success.

4. Men as individuals are substantially equal with respect to natural or original, as distinct from acquired, power. 24

4.1. Success in obtaining what one wants does not depend upon the superiority of any one natural power, like physical prowess.

4.2. Men are substantially equal in their inability as individuals to defend themselves and their acquisitions against ravage.

2o Leviathan, pp. 31-32, and p. 63. De Cive, XIV, 17. This is the principal empirical premise of Hobbes's argument. .

n Leviathan, p. 32, De Cive, XIV, 17, and Elements, I. 7. sec. 3 (p. 29). Thts stipulates uses for 'good' and 'evil'. What a given man calls 'good' in this sense may not, however, tum out to_be a good for tha� man. Mis�a�es are possible, but any mistake must be made out m terms of the destres and stnvmgs of the man who commits it.

2s Leviathan, p. 86. Elements, 1. 14.12, (p. 14) and I. 17.14, (pp. 17-18). This is a tautology based upon the stipulated uses for 'good' and 'evil'. The tautology which allows for the possibility of mistakes is: 'each man chooses his greatest apparent good.'

II Leviathan, pp. 37-39; p. 56, 64. Element.r, I. 8. sees. 3-4 (pp. 33-34) ; I. 7. sec. 7, (p. 30).

M l.Aviathan, p. 80. De Cive, I. 3. Elements, I. 14. sec. 2, (p. 70). Although Hobbes argues as if this were an empirical premise, the second such premise in the argument as I restate it I suspect that this contention about the equality of men may be based upon the tau'tology, 'no natural power is irresistible.'

T H E T A Y L O R T H ES I S : S O M E O B J E C T I O N S 67

5 . The absence of civil government is-properly called-a state of nature. 2"

5.1 . The state of nature implies the absence of institutional restraints upon the acquisition of power and, except for self-help, no protection of persons and goods.

5.2. The state of nature is a state of war, of each man against every other, wherein no man can reasonably expect to obtain goods and be secure in the enjoyment of them.

6. Any rules stating the conditions necessary if any man is to obtain goods and specifying the acts required equally of all men if these conditions are to be fulfilled are laws of nature. oo

6.1 . Civil peace is such a condition; and the rules specify­ing the acts and endeavours required equally of all men if peace is to be secured are laws of nature.

6.2. 'He that foreseeth the whole way to his preservation . . . must also call it good, and the contrary evil. And this is that good and evil, which not every man in passion calleth so, but all men by reason. And therefore, the fulfilling of all these laws is good in reason; and the breaking of them evil.'27

7. The primary condition of peace is that each man stand out of the way of every other man, leaving all men generally secure in their pursuit and enjoyment of goods.28

7.1. In order for men to be willing to stand out of each other's way, and in order for it to be reasonable for them to do so, there must be an effective form of protection other than self-help.

7.2. Other than self-help, the only protection against ravage is institutional, some form of civil law.

25 Although it is a mistake to interpret Hobbes's account of the state of nature as a description of some prehistoric stage in the development of human institutions, it is also a mistake to interpret it as having no bearing upon history and therefore as wholly unhistorical. The state of nature is a practically possible condition of man which can be closely approximated in the course of history and which has evil con­sequences avoidable only by submission to law. With only a few refinements Hobbes's account of the state of nature can be used to provide reasons why the people of all nations are obliged as individuals to submit to a sovereign international government.

2£ Leviathan, pp. 84-85, 104-105. De Cive, II, 1-2; Ill, 19. Elements, 1.15. sec. 1 , (pp. 74-75).

27 Elements, 1 .17. sec. 14, (p. 94). Leviathan, p. 104-105. De Cive, III, 31. 28 .Leviathan, p. 85. De Cive, II, 4. Elements, I. 15. sec. 3, (p. 761.

68 STUART M, BROWN J R .

7.3. It is therefore good in reason and a law of nature that each man submit unconditionally to law.

8. The moral practice by which men most commonly obtain goods for themselves while simultaneously securing the good of another is covenanting.

8.1. Even in a state of nature it would be good in reason for a man, taken captive by an enemy, to obtain his life and liberty by covenanting to pay a ransom ; and any such covenant is valid. 29

8.2. The stakes at issue in the alternatives between civil peace and war are comparable in magnitude to those at issue in the alternatives between life at the cost of ransom and death.

8.3. The obligation to submit unconditionally to law may be regarded, by those who have never acknowledged it or by those who seriously question it, as incurred by a kind of covenant in which life and liberty are purchased at the cost of submission.

(ill) This is Hobbes's argument.30 It is elegant, compelling, and

remarkable for its economy in the use of straightforward empirical statements. The main weight of the argument is borne by logical statements, stipulations and tautologies based on stipulations. It must be so borne in order to satisfy Hobbes's own criteria of theoretical adequacy. In his account of what he calls science and we would call theory, he insists that science is not knowledge of

29 Leviathan, p. 91 ; p, 96. Hobbes states explicitly that even in a state of nature some covenants are valid and that men are obliged to fulfill promises by reason of having promised (see De Cive, XIV, 2.). So far as I can determine, Hobbes never doubts the general validity of covenants and thus never requires any guarantee of their obligatory character. What Hobbes doubts is (1) that valid covenants in a state of nature will be honoured, and (2) that in a state of nature men will covenant with each other except in extreme cases like those in which a man purchases life and liberty at the cost of ransom. In the state of nature the social utility, not the validity of covenanting, is impaired. That there is a moral practice of covenanting is thus an implicit premise in Hobbes's argument.

ao I do not claim that everything which Hobbes says is consistent with this re­statement of the argument or that all of the passages cited in support of the Taylor thesis are consistent with it. What I claim is that this restatement of the argument is consistent with all of Hobbes's statements about method and with most of the passages in which he argues and expounds his political theory, whereas on both of these counts the Taylor thesis fails.

T H E TAYLOR THESIS : SOME OBJECTIONS 69

experienced matters of fact, but 'knowledge of all the conse­quences of names appertaining to the subject in hand'.31 'Whereas empirical statements do not justify the assertion or presumption of logically necessary connections, theoretical statements establish, assert, or imply such connections. Statements like, 'Men neces­sarily desire their own good' or 'Men necessarily desire self­preservation', must therefore be interpreted as logical statements. Contrary to one of the crucial contentions of those who adopt the Taylor view, Hobbes's psychology does not consist primarily of empirical statements, and his doctrines concerning egoism and self-preservation cannot be interpreted as empirical postulates which may be denied without damage to his theory.

Because Hobbes's egoism is not an empirical postulate, the laws of nature in Hobbes's theory cannot be related to his egoism as prudential maxims are related to particular desires and aversions There is thus no justification for the view, advanced by Taylor and the others, that the laws of nature must be interpreted in one or the other of two logically distinct ways, either as prudential maxims which imply no obligation or as the commands of God which are obligatory.

Consider the pruderitial maxim,Beware of little expenses : a small leak will sink a great ship. This prudential maxim has great scope. Most people, it may be presumed, have an aversion to poverty, and there is a connection between poverty and the cumulative effect of many small, unnoticed expenditures. Still one can imagine circumstances under which the maxim would lose its point. If one lives in a state where poverty, as mere lack of private capital, has no evil consequences for life and health, an aversion to poverty could not be presumed and the maxim would have at best so limited an application as to be of little or no use. Or one can imagine an economic order in which the cumulative effect of small expenditures does not impoverish or in which there are in fact no small expenses. In such cases the maxim has no application and is pointless.

On the Taylor thesis the laws of nature as prudential maxims are to be interpreted on this model. It is supposed that the laws of nature specify the courses of action required tp satisfy some particular desire common to all or most peoplb, a particular desire for self-preservation or a particular aversion to death. But

31 Leviathan, p. 29.

70 S T U A R T M . B R OWN J R .

then, of course, one can easily imagine men who would prefer to die rather than forego certain goods and suffer certain evils. To these men Hobbes's laws of nature would be either pointless or acceptable only in some form which does not imply unconditional submission. Even if all or most men were like this, however, it still might be the case that all or most men have in common some other particular desire immensely stronger than all other desires, and with respect to this strongest desire a new law of nature with different implications for political practice might be formulated. Considering the laws of nature in this way, Taylor and the others deny their moral relevance and their importance for ethical theory. But this denial commits a threefold error. It commits a moral error : if there are any laws of nature in this sense, they have direct implications for our moral practices and our obligations. It commits a philosophical error: even if in fact there are no such laws of nature, it is of great philosophical interest to consider the differences which such laws would make to our notions of good, ought, and so forth. Finally, it commits an error of historical interpretation : the laws of nature in Hobbes are not prudential maxims in this sense.

In Hobbes, the laws of nature are rules specifying what each and every man must do if the conditions for successfully employ­ing any means whatsoever are to be maintained. Even if in fact there happens to be some one desire common to all men, the laws of nature cannot be interpreted with exclusive reference to it. They can be interpreted only in terms of Hobbes's statements that men strive ceaselessly to obtain certain objects and that whatever men strive to obtain they call 'good'. The tautology, 'every man necessarily desires his own good', is based upon the statement stipulating the use for 'good', and the point of 'his own' is to admit explicitly that what one man counts as good another may count as evil. Because this is a tautology, it cannot be denied on the empirical grounds that some men may actually strive to obtain for others what they want or that some men actually fear certain things more than their own death. Hobbes in fact admits that some men fear the humiliation of defeat more than death in combat. 32 Whatever a man desires is a good for him, in the primary sense of good. A man's assertion that some­thing is good can be denied only by reference to that man's own

81 Elements, I. 9. sec. 6, (p. 39).

T H E T A Y L O R T H E S I S ! S O M E O BJ E C T I O N S 71

desires or to the conditions for satisfying them. Peace is a good whether or not men in fact desire it, because peace is the condition for securing to each man whatever in fact he does desire. Thus, the only men for whom the laws of nature are pointless are those who either live in complete isolation from other men or desire no objects attainable by human foresight and effort. No natural class of creatures for which the laws of nature are in principle pointless can properly be called 'men'.

Although I myself think that Hobbes is correct in holding that there are laws of nature in this sense, the point is that, whether or not he is correct in holding this, he does hold it and employs the laws of nature to make out the obligation to submit to the state. But if there are thought to be laws of nature in this sense, then there is, just as Hobbes claims, an obligation with respect to them and this obligation does not require a command of God to guarantee it. Only out of sheer moral perversity could one acknowledge such laws of nature and deny that they oblige. Hobbes's argument based upon the laws of nature may, of course, be defective. It may be possible, as I think it is, to acknowledge the laws of natute and deny an obligation of unconditional submission to the state. But by denying this particular obligation in the unconditional form in which Hobbes tries to make it out, one does not deny that the laws of nature oblige in some way and in some form which can be made out. If these laws did not oblige, independently of being commanded by God, they would not be laws of nature. God, the creator and designer of nature, could not conceivably command disobedience to these laws or by command void the obligation with respect to them. In God's prophetic kingdom, Hobbes admits, God may by command give natural law the status of revealed laws. If we as believers conceive of God as doing this, then for us natural law is law in the strict sense. This is possible but not necessary.

In sum: Hobbes's psychology is indispensable because in it he establishes the sense of good in terms of which he argues that the stake of each man in the institution of government is of supreme magnitude. What is completely dispensable in Hobbes are prudential maxims and the commands of God. The Taylor thesis grossly misrepresents Hobbes because it dispenses with the indis­pensable and makes what is dispensable the very heart of the theory.

4 I : M R . \'V'A R R E N D E R ' S H O B B E S

John Plamenatz

GREAT books enjoy two kinds of immortality : they are read

for centuries after their authors die, and from time to time other books are written about them.1 In the end, and often soon, there is much more written about them than in them. The cynic may say that the second immortality is the price paid for the first, but his j ibe is out of place. A novel or a play or a poem, if it is worth reading, will be read by thousands who never read a word about it. It does not need to be written about to keep alive, though, if it does live, it will be written about. Whereas a philo­sophical treatise is soon dead unless it is discussed often and minutely. It gives enjoyment, no doubt, as well as instruction, but enjoyment of a peculiar kind; for truly to enjoy it is to weigh it in a fine balance. We make it our own as much by disagreeing with others about it as through our own unaided efforts to master it.

If then, I say that Mr. Warrender's account of the political philosophy of Hobbes is one of the best of those known to me, I do not mean that I agree with it. I disagree strongly with Mr. Warrender about several points of capital importance in the intetpretation of that philosophy, and I want to explain why I do so.

In the first chapter of his book Mr. Warrender says that there have been three types of theory about what Hobbes meant by obligation. Some people have denied that there is, in the strict sense, any such theory in Hobbes, and have reduced his moral and political philosophy to a theory about how men behave. Others have argued that, according to Hobbes, when civil society is

1 [This article was occasioned by the publkation of Prof. Warrentkr's The Political Philosophy of Hobbes : His Theory of Obligation. Its opening and closing paragraphs, high!J complimentary to Prof. Warrender, haPe here been much condensed, as it was felt that readers of this volume would be most concerned with the points at issue between these tll.'O scholars. But it should be horne in mind that Mr. Plammatz has described himself as agreeing with many points mnde lry Prof. Warrender and as 'having learnt much' from him: praising espedai!J his account of what Hobbes meant by 'obligation in foro inferno', of what Hobbes thought the motives of obligation were, and of 11·hot Hobbes understood lry nat11ral !an• and rovenant. Ed.]

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established, a new type of obligation is created ; and still others that obligation, as Hobbes understood it, is essentially the same in civil society and out of it. Mr. Warrender places himself in the third group. His purpose is both to explain what Hobbes meant by obligation and to show that, in the system of Hobbes, unless men were already obliged to obey the laws of nature, which reason teaches them are the commands of God, they could never by valid covenant bind themselves to obey a human ruler. He admits that Hobbes held fast to two opinions : that men always act from hope of some benefit or from fear of some hurt to them­selves, and that the laws of nature, considered only in their contents, are not obligatory (as Hobbes understood obligation) but are so only as the commands of a God whose power is irresis­tible. These two admissions, while they prove how anxious Mr. Warrender is not to soften Hobbes's position by assimilating it to more traditional doctrines, make his thesis untenable. Why that is so, I hope to show in a moment, but I want first to make a few comments on Mr. Warrender's account of the three types of theory about what Hobbes meant by obligation.

I am sure that Hobbes's critics have often spoken carelessly and have laid themselves open to attack. They have, no doubt, sometimes spoken as if it followed that, if there were no place for true moral obligation in Hobbes's theory, that theory could be only an account of how men behave. In so speaking they have been careless. For even if Hobbes were doing no more than tell people how they ought to behave in their own interest, his laws of nature would be rules of conduct a:1d not statements about what men do. I suppose that everyone would agree that Hobbes, what­ever else he does, makes three types of statement relating to human behaviour: descriptive, hypothetical, and imperative. Sometimes he tells us what men do, and at other times what they would do if they knew what was best for them; and he also tells them to do what is best for them. Now, clearly, the laws of nature enunciated by Hobbes, even if we take them to be no more than maxims of prudence, are not statements about what men do, nor yet about what they would do if they knew what was best for them; they are at least imperative, even if they are not what most people would call rules of morality. To deny that they are moral rules is not therefore to reduce them to statements about how men do behave or would behave.

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On the other hand, when Hobbes explains what he thinks is involved in being morally or politically obliged, he does no more than tell us how men would behave under given circumstances. His account of obligation reduces virtually to this. Men are said to be obliged, when they stand in such a relation to someone who commands them that, if they see that relation clearly, they cannot choose but do what is commanded of them, If, for instance, they know that there is a Being, omnipotent and omniscient, who commands them what they should do, they cannot help but obey him. If they do not obey him, it is because swayed by passion, they have temporarily lost sight of their true position in relation to him. They always do what they think is to their advantage ; they do so by necessity of their nature, for Hobbes will not allow that men can see clearly how they stand and choose deliberately to do what will hurt them. If, then, God is truly present to their minds, they cannot help but choose to do what he commands. People who say that there is no place for obligation in the system of Hobbes want to deny that what he calls by that name is what we ordinarily understand by moral obligation. They want to say at least this much, and this much is surely true. They may, through carelessness or for other reasons, say more than this­and sometimes even what Mr. Warrender accuses them of saying. Yet the main point of their indictment is seriou�d well found. Mr. Warrender speaks of them in a way that may cause his readers to miss this point. When someone is morally obliged, there is something he ought to do, whether it is to his advantage or not. To say that he has a duty is not to say that there is something he could not but choose to do if he saw clearly how he was situated in relation to the person who requires him to do it. I do not want to suggest that Mr. Warrender thinks otherwise ; that he believes that Hobbes meant by moral obligation what most people mean. But he does, I think, play down the difference, and sometimes speaks as if it did not exist.

It is true that Hobbes does not confuse duty and self-interest, as he is too often accused of doing. According to Hobbes, we are never obliged except to obey a law, and all law, he says, is com­mand. We are obliged to obey the laws of nature only because they are the commands of God. Now, it might be our interest to obey them, even if there were no God, even if they were only maxims of prudence ; and it therefore follows that self-interest is

\

76 J OHN P L A M E N A T Z

not duty. We must, however, b e careful how we interpret the distinction which Hobbes makes between self-interest and dutv. We may have an interest where we have no duty, but it can nev�r be our duty to do what is not, in the long run, to our advantage. For we necessarily choose our greatest advantage when we see it, and 'I ought' implies for Hobbes, 'I can'.

To turn now to the main argument of Mr. Warrender's book : that in the system of Hobbes, men could never by valid covenant bind themselves to obey a human ruler unless they were already obliged to obey the laws of nature. Or, in other words, they could never, in a Godless world, take upon themselves the obligation to obey any such ruler. God is therefore necessary to Hobbes's political system. It is necessary, not merely that God should exist, but that men should believe in him; for if they did not believe, the laws of nature would be to them mere maxims of prudence which they would not be obliged to obey. Now, the sovereign gets his power by covenant, and the duty to perform covenants is prescribed by the third law of nature. If, then, our duty to the sovereign rests upon the covenant, it rests also on our duty to God, for we owe it to God, and not to the sovereign, to keep our covenants. 2

Now, it may well be that Hobbes believed that, unless we were first obliged to obey the laws of nature as commands of God, we could never afterwards come to be obliged to obey the sovereign. It may be, too, that he believed that, unless men feared God, they could never have a sufficient motive for obeying the sovereign and so making his power effective. These are two separate beliefs, and I am not concerned to deny that Hobbes held them. What, however, I do deny is that he needed to hold them to explain how men can be obliged (as he understood obligation) to obey their worldly rulers, or how they can have a sufficient motive for such obedience.

To take the first point first. We are obliged to obey another person when we are so situated in relation to him that, if we see that situation clearly, we cannot help but choose to do what he requires of us. That is what Hobbes meant by obligation. Now,

2 As a matter of faet, if Hobbes had not rested political obligation on the third law of nature, he might still have rested it on the first. For if it is our duty to God to seek peace, it is our duty to obey the sovereign, whose power is a condition of peace. Thus, whether or not we have covenanted to obey the sovereign, our duty of obedience rests upon the laws of nature, which are God's commands.

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if that is so, it does not at all follow that, in a Godless world, we would be obliged to obey no one. At least, it does not follow from the nature of obligation as Hobbes explains it. No doubt, if there is a God, then in a condition of mere equality between men (which is the state of nature as Hobbes describes it) there can be no obligation except to obey God. In that sense, the only natural obligation is to God. But this does not imply that, if men were unequal, there could be no duties of obedience among them unless they derived from a prior duty to obey God. If any man were so situated in relation to another that, when we saw his situation clearly, he could not help but choose to do what the other required of him, he would be obliged to obey him. Did Hobbes really believe that no man could be so situated in relation to another ? Did h e ground this belief on the fact that man's power, unlike God's, is always limited ? And if he did, was he not mistaken?

Mr. Warrender quotes Hobbes's saying that 'power irresistible justifies all actions' and that 'less power does not', and takes this to imply that, according to Hobbes, only irresistible power creates obligation. But Hobbes does not say that power, to justify a'!) action, must be irresistible ; he says only that irresistible power alone can justify all actions. Therefore only God's power can justify all his actions, and make it our duty to obey all his commands. Of God alone can we say that, since his punishments are inescapable, we are always obliged to obey him, in the sense that, whenever we see clearly how we stand in relation to him, we cannot help but choose to do what he requires of us. The punishments of the sovereign can be evaded, and it is there­fore not alwqys true that, if we see clearly how we stand towards him, we cannot choose but obey him. But this affects only the extent of our obligation to the sovereign : it does not affect its nature or require that we should be previously obliged to God before we can be obliged to him. We are so made, says Hobbes, that we necessarily choose our greater advantage when we see it. If, then, I usually stand to lose more than I gain by disobeying the sovereign, it is usually true that, if I saw my position clearly, I could not help but choose to obey him. Therefore, much more often than not, I am obliged to obedience. That the sovereign's punishments are less certain than God's has nothing to do with the matter. Obligation, taken in itself, is exactly the same, whether it is to God or to man. That I have, say, one

78 J O H N P L A ME N A TZ

chance in a hundred of escaping the sovereign's punishment does not alter the fact that I usually stand to gain more than I lose by obedience. Therefore, whenever I do stand to gain more than I lose, I am obliged to obey, in the sense that, had I seen my position clearly, I must have chosen to obey. All that is needed, if there is to be obligation as Hobbes understood it, is that there should be commands issued by someone so powerful that those who are called upon to obey stand to gain more than they lose by doing what he requires of them. If then, Hobbes said that only irresistible power can create genuine obligation, he said something not in keeping with his own account of obligation. But I doubt whether he ever did say it. Whether he did or not, it simply does not follow from his account of obligation that, unless we were first obliged to obey the laws of God, we could never afterwards come to be obliged to obey a worldly ruler.

Now, it may be that all Hobbes wanted to say was that, if there were no divine law supported by divine sanctions, men could never have brought themselves to set up a human govern­ment over them. If we think of government as emerging among men rather than as deliberately established by them, we can put the same point in this way : it may be that Hobbes believed that, if there were no divine law supported by divine sanctions, men could never have brought themselves so to behave as to enable governments to arise among them. For human power dearly depends on human obedience : if nobody did the sovereign's bidding except from fear of punishment at his hands, the sove­reign could never acquire the power to punish.

If Hobbes believed this, he was clearly mistaken ; for it does not follow from his account of man or of the state of nature. No matter how selfish men are, they can still have a sufficient motive, even in a Godless world, for so behaving that the ruler's power is effective. It is their interest that there should be peace, and this being so, the ruler can ordinarily rely on their obedience. Though some men will be tempted to disobey, and will only be held in check-if at all-by fear of punishment, the others will, in their own interest, support the ruler against them. Even if we suppose the ruler set up by contract, the parties to the contract have a sufficient motive for keeping it. They will not keep it, so Hobbes believes, to their own hurt, and they must lose by keeping it unless they have reasonable assurance that others will keep it too.

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That may be so ; but as soon as agreement is made and the ruler chosen, it becomes the interest of most men most of the time to support him in what he does to make his power effective. Every one of them may, from time to time, be tempted to disobey him in the hope of gaining thereby ; but it is the interest of them all that everyone else should obey him. That is enough to give the ruler the support he needs to get effective power.

Hobbes presents us with a false dilemma. He tells us that, though it is our interest to have a sovereign over us, we can have no sufficient motive (and therefore no obligation) to obey him unless we have good reason to believe that others will do so too. He also tells us that covenants without the sword are but breath, and of no force to bind a man at alL How, then, can the covenant to set up a sovereign achieve its purpose ? Hobbes sometimes speaks as if the covenant of itself created a civil power strong enough to force the parties to it to keep it. But this, as Mr. Warrender sees, is absurd. For the sovereign has no power unless the parties to the covenant keep it. If, therefore, they have no sufficient motive for keeping it unless the sovereign is strong enough to coerce anyone who might be tempted to break it, the covenant is still-born. Mr. Warrender therefore rests the whole weight of Hobbes's argument on the prior obligation to obey God's laws ; and in particular his third law which commands the keeping of covenants.

Now, unfortunately, though we know what God commands u s to do and that his power is irresistible, his third Jaw is con­ditional. He commands us to keep our covenants only if the other parties to them have already kept them or we have good grounds for believing that they will do so. Therefore, unless we already have adequate motives for keeping the covenant which establishes the sovereign, the command of God cannot provide us with any motive for keeping it. God says to us : I command you to keep your covenant to obey the sovereign, if yOJ,t can do so saft!J. Now, a command like this defeats the commander's purpose, no matter how irresistible his power. For unless we obey the sovereign, he has no power; and if he has no power (so Hobbes tells us) we cannot safely obey him, and are therefore not commanded by God to do so. God requires us to obey only when obedience is general, and we need therefore take no account of him when we seek to explain how obedience comes to be general.

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If God wants us to obey his laws, why should he say to us anything so absurd as : Obey only if others do so too (i.e. if it is safe) ? If God's power is irresistible and his punishments are inescapable, any man with a lively sense of that power already has a sufficient motive for obeying God's commands whatever other men may do. For God will do more good to him in the next world than all the hurt he could suffer in this. And if most men have a lively sense of God's power, than every man has reasonable assurance that most men will ordinarily obey God's laws, and that it is therefore safe for himself to do so.

If, then, in the state of nature, men do not ordinarily obey God's commands, it cannot really be because those commands3 are conditional; it can only be because their belief in God and their fear of his punishments are weak, because his power and his sanctions, albeit irresistible and inescapable, are too seldom or too dimly present to their minds. To the fear of God, who knows all things and can do anything, must be added fear of a sovereign, whose knowledge and power are limited, before we can have reasonable assurance that men will ordinarily obey God's com­mands, and that it is therefore safe for anyone to obey them. The fear of God can only add a further motive to a motive which is already sufficient without that fear. Once again, God is super­fluous.

The motive which is sufficient to explain obedience, even in a Godless world of selfish men without hope of a life after death, is quite simply the need for security. There is no need for men to fear God or for the sovereign to have power before the makers of the covenant establishing sovereignty can have a sufficient motive for keeping it. This is so even if men are exactly as Hobbes describes them. No more is required than that there should be a covenant made and sovereign chosen. If men really see that they stand to gain by having a sovereign, then, as soon as a sovereign is chosen, they have reason enough to obey him; and if they do obey him, he has power.

That a sovereign has been chosen is, of course, no guarantee that anyone will obey him who thinks he has more to gain than to lose by disobedience. Hobbes saw this, and therefore went on to

s There is, of course, no question but that Hobbes meant the first law of nature, which bids us seek peace, to be unconditional. We ought to seek peace, whether or not others also seek it; for merely to seek peace does not add to our danger. But this first law commits us to nothing specific.

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say that, unless the sovereign has power enough to coerce the recalcitrant, those who are otherwise disposed to obey have no good reason for believing that obedience is to their advantage. Nine men out of ten may be disposed to obey, but if the tenth man disobeys with impunity, the civil order is destroyed, and it is no longer reasonable for the other nine to obey. The sovereign must therefore have power enough to coerce the recalcitrant before the better-disposed of his subjects, however many they may be, can have good reason to obey him. This is Hobbes's argument, and it does not hold. It does not follow, because the sovereign cannot protect me unless he has power, that I have no good reason for obeying him until he has power. It is my interest that he should have power, and he cannot have it unless he is obeyed. It is therefore my interest to support him when he seeks to coerce the disobedient. If enough people think as I do, he will have the support he needs to enable him to coerce the dis­obedient, and will therefore have power. As soon as the sovereign is chosen or men know who he is, he can rely on the support of most of his subjects against the disobedient, and therefore can have subordinates to carry out his orders ; for though each one of us may sometimes hope to gain by disobedience, we are all ordinarily keen that other people should obey. That is enough� selfish and Godless though we may be, to induce us so to behave as to give effective power to our rulers. We have only to choose them or to be of the same mind about them if they are already there.

Hobbes speaks strangely of God, if his purpose is to make use of him to explain why we obey our rulers. Reason, he says� tells us that there is a God but tells us nothing more about him, for God's nature is incomprehensible to us. I suppose we ought not to take Hobbes literally, for if we do, he contradicts himself. If we are to know that God exists, we must know something of his nature, or else we cannot know what it is whose existence we assert. To say that God exists is not to say, there is a some­thing we know not what, and to stop short there. There are, no doubt, countless things in the world that we know nothing about, but not one of them can occupy our minds and influence our behaviour until we know, or think we know, something about it.

If, then, we suppose that Hobbes did not mean to be taken literally, when he said that God's nature is incomprehensible, just

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what did he think we do know about God and his purposes for man ? I do not pretend to be able to answer this question. How­ever, it is clear that Hobbes believed that natural reason does not tell us enough to provide entirely selfish men with a motive for keeping God's laws. For he says that we cannot know, by 'natural :reason' alone, that there is a life after death. Why, then, should we fear divine punishment? What does it matter to us that there should be an irresistible God who issues commands to us, if that God does not choose to punish our disobedience in this life, and we know of no other ?

It is through revelation alone, according to Hobbes, that we can know we have a life after death. God does not, however, reveal this truth directly to each of us, and we nearly all of us have to rely on the testimony of others. How, then, can we know whom to believe among those who claim to have received God's truth directly by revelation ? Hobbes tells us that we must accept the sovereign's verdict in this matter, we must believe (so far as it lies in our power to do so) the prophets and teachers whom the sovereign tells us to believe. We must do this because we have by covenant pledged ourselves to obey the sovereign. Thus it is on the sovereign's authority that we receive the belief without which we have no motive for fearing God. Now, it is also Hobbes's position (so Mr. Warrender says, and he may be right) that it is because we are commanded to do so by a God whose power is irresistible and whose punishments are inescapable that we have a duty to keep the covenant which creates sove­reignty. It is on the sovereign's authority that we receive the doctrine without which it could not be our duty to keep the covenant to obey the sovereign. This may be what Hobbes taught, but it is not good logic.

It might be argued that it is enough for us to know that there is a God whose power is irresistible for us to have a duty (in Hobbes's sense of that word) to keep God's laws, even though we do not believe in a life after death. But what, then, is the point of insisting that God's power is irresistible ?4 No doubt it is so, or else he is not God; for it follows from his being God that he can always get what he wants. If, however, there is no life

4 It m).ght well be that people could be moved t<;> obedience from �beer admi�at.ion

of unlinuted power, even though they had nothmg to fear from 1t. But thts IS a motive that Hobbes does not consider, for he believes that men act only from hope of benefit or fear of damage to themselves.

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after death (or we do not believe that there is), and if there are no divine punishments and rewards in this world, God has not chosen to exe1t his irresistible power over us. For to exert power, in the only sense relevant to this discussion (which is Hobbes's sense) is to cause people to choose to do what you tell them by threatening punishments and offering rewards.

In the fifth chapter of his book, Mr. Warrender mentions the critics who believe that Hobbes was guilty either of confusion or pretence when he brought God into his political philosophy. He does not agree with them. Yet, surely, if it was not pretence, it was confusion. We cannot know whether it was pretence ; we cannot now pass a sure judgement on the sincerity of a belief professed by a man who died when Charles II was king. We may suspect him of atheism, but we cannot prove it against him. We can, however, prove against him the charge of confusion.

Mr. Warrender argues that Hobbes was mistaken in insisting so much that the sovereign is no party to the covenant that gives him power. Whether or not he is a party to it, the extent of his authority remains the same, if it is really true (as Hobbes believed) that the purpose of the covenant cannot be achieved unless the sovereign alone decides the limits of his authority. Furthermore,. as Mr. Warrender points out, it is only the sovereign by institution who is supposed by Hobbes to be no party to a covenant; for the sovereign by acquisition, the conqueror, acquires his authority over the conquered by allowing them their lives and personal liberty on condition that they obey him, and this, according to Hobbes, is a covenant between him and them. Yet the authority of the conqueror over the conquered is as great as the authority of the sovereign by institution over his subjects.

Mr. Warrender might have gone further in criticism of Hobbes's account of the covenant ; he might have questioned the need for it. He does not, however, do this, but argues that the covenant has a necessary place in Hobbes's political philosophy. I must confess I cannot see why this should be so. If all that Hobbes wanted to do was to show that no ruler can have power unless at least some of his subjects obey him from other motives than fear of being punished by him, he had no need to resort to a covenant to make his point. On the other hand (and this i s more likely) if what he wanted was to show that all rightful obedience of man to man rests on covenant, he attempted the impossible.

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The conqueror, he says, could put the conquered to death but grants them life and personal liberty on condition they obey him, and they, by submitting to him, promise obedience. There is no question here of the conqueror's power depending on the sub­mission of the conquered, for they submit to him because he already has power and threatens them with death unless they submit. Yet Hobbes calls this transaction a covenant ! If it is one, then so too is the submission of men to God. For men submit to God because of his power, his threats, and his rewards. Their submission to him is voluntary in exactly the same sense as their submission to a conqueror, and Hobbes does not pretend other­wise. In both cases, they choose to submit; and if the submission, though it gives no power, creates a duty of obedience in the one case, why not also in the other ? It is no use saying that God's power, unlike the conqueror's, is 'irresistible'. For, as we have seen already, to say that power is irresistible is not to say that its possessor will always be obeyed ; it is to say only that anyone who sees clearly how he stands in relation to the possessor can never choose but obey him. Now, it is also true that the con­quered, if they see clearly how they stand in relation to their conqueror, cannot choose but obey him, except on the occasions when they have more to gain than to lose by disobedience. That there are exceptions in the one case and none in the other makes no relevant difference. The obedience or submission, when it proceeds from a just estimate of the situation, is in both cases exactly the same ; and if there is a covenant that creates a duty of obedience in the one case, there must also be a covenant in the other. Now, this is a conclusion that Hobbes would never have accepted, for he was as certain that our duty to obey God does not rest on covenant as that our duty to obey man does.

What do we do when we submit to the conqueror ? Do we make, each one of us, an explicit covenant with him ? Hobbes cannot mean to suggest anything so absurd. The covenant is presumably tacit. We know that the conqueror could kill us if he chose, and that he chooses instead to spare us, provided we obey him; and we, on our part, submit. What, then, is submission, in this case, if not obedience ? Thus, by obeying the conqueror, we make a tacit promise to obey him. Now this is a curious argument. Hobbes's purpose is to show that it is our duty to obey even a conqueror because we have covenanted or promised to do so, but

M R . W A R R E N D E R' S H O B B E S 85

he also tells us that, in this case, we promise when we obey I True, he does not tell us this in so many words. He talks of submission and not obedience ; we first submit, he says, and then, having submitted, are bound to obey. But if the submission is not an explicit promise, what can it be but obedience ?

We can push the argument farther. If to submit to a con­queror is to make a tacit covenant with him, it follows that all obedience involves a covenant. We do not obey, according to Hobbes, when we do what we are told, no matterwhat ourmotive. When I do what James tells me in order to please John, I do not obey James. Nor, of course, do we obey when we do what somebody causes us to do without our knowing that he does so. To react to a stimulus is not to obey. God, at any time, and man quite often, can make us do what he intends without our knowing his intention. Atheists are in God's power but do not obey him or submit to him. We obey, according to Hobbes, only when we know that someone commands us and is powerful. Therefore, all obedience, properly so called, is submission. If, then, submission involves a tacit covenant, so does obedience. In other words, whenever we obey, we promise to obey, and this promise makes obedience a duty. Which is absurd.

Mr. Warrender says that Hobbes, when he speaks of natural rights, is not speaking of rights in a sense which entails obligations. This is certainly true. It is, however, misleading to suggest, as Mr. Warrender does in both his second and fourth chapters, that a natural right to something is a 'freedom from obligation to renounce' it.5 I may have a right, in the ordinary sense which does entail obligations on others, and yet have no duty to renounce it. Natural right, as Hobbes understood it, is best defined as absence of obligation, and there is no need to improve on that formula. I have a natural right to something when I have no obligation to anyone in the pursuit of it.

If Hobbes really meant that the laws of nature, even be±ore the establishment of civil society, are more than mere maxims of prudence, being the commands of a God we are bound to obey, he ought not to have said that, in the state of nature, men have a right to all things. But he did say it, and in saying it was incon­sistent. True, in the state of nature, every man must interpret God's law for himself, for he knows it by the light of natural

s Warrender, p. 50.

86 J O H N P L A M EN A T Z

reason, and there i s n o common superior o n earth t o interpret it on his and other men's behalf. This, however, does not give him a right to all things. Its being left to him to decide what God requires of him does not mean that God requires whatever it suits him to believe, and that he can therefore do what he pleases. He is answerable to God for how he interprets God's law. Mr. Warrender rightly admits this, and even says that Hobbes admitted it. This may be so ; Hobbes may sometimes have adtuitted it. Yet he did not see what follows from the admission. For the admission cannot be reconciled with Hobbes's account of natural right. Or are we to understand that Hobbes did not mean us to take that account quite literally ? That he always intended us to remember that, even in the state of nature, man's right to all things is lituited by his duty to God ? Did he mean, when he spoke of a natural right to all things, no more than that, in the state of nature, man is not answerable to man for what he does, but only to God ? For my part, I doubt it ; 1 believe that, in many contexts, he meant to be taken quite literally.

Be that as it may, whether we interpret man's 'natural right to all things' as absence of all obligation or absence only of obligation to other men, it follows that men, when they set up a sovereign by covenant, give him no right he does not already have; it follows that they can do no more than lay obligations on them­selves which enable the sovereign to exercise his natural right more effectively. As Mr. Warrender correctly argues, and as Hobbes adtuits on several occasions, there can be no transference of natural rights from would-be subjects to sovereign when the civil order is established. It is undeniable that Hobbes sometimes adtuits this. The question is, does he always hold by the admis­sion ? Does he always treat natural right as if it were mere absence of obligation, at least to men if not to God also ? Does he never, or only seldom, use arguments that make no sense unless natural rights can be transferred, and unless they are more than mere absence of obligation ? Mr. Warrender does not put these ques­tions, but he does, I think, use arguments which suggest that, if he had put them, he would have answered them in Hobbes's favour.

He says, for instance, that a subject's 'authorizing' or 'owning' all his sovereign's actions does not make him responsible for what the sovereign does.6 He is speaking, unless I have tuis-

6 Warrender, p. 109.

M R . W A R R E N D E R ' S H O B B E S 87

understood him, not for himself, but for Hobbes; he is saying, not merely that from Hobbes's account of natural right and cove­nant we cannot properly infer that the subject is responsible for what the sovereign does, but that Hobbes did not make this improper inference. This I find hard to believe. Hobbes could have confined himself to saying that subjects, when they agree with one another to obey a sovereign, take the first step towards making his power effective ; he could have found it enough t o say that the sovereign (whatever his duty t o God) retains his natural right against all men and therefore, having put himself under no obligation towards them, cannot injure them. Yet he chose to say, again and again (as if the argument mattered greatly to him), that the sovereign cannot injure his subjects because they are the authors of all his sovereign acts. Hobbes could hardly have meant that what the sovereign does in his official capacity is, quite literally, also done by his subjects ; he could only have meant that, in some sense or other, they are responsible for what the sovereign does.

Responsible in just what sense ? Responsible to God for having, by making their covenant and keeping it, given effective power to the sovereign ? If this is what Hobbes meant, his meaning could be accommodated to his conception of the natural right to all things, provided that right is understood as absence of obliga­tion to men only and not to God also. But this is not the natural meaning of what Hobbes actually said, and to defend him in this way is no compliment to him. Did he choose words so wretchedly inadequate to his meaning ? He spoke of subjects authorizing everything done by their sovereign, and of the sovereign's being the bearer of their persons. What could he have meant but that the sovereign has received his rights from his subjects ? That there has been a real transference of natural rights ? Of course, he should not have said or implied this. Can we therefore argue that he did not imply it, no matter what the words he used suggest ? Are philosophers so seldom inconsistent, that we are entitled to conclude that they do not mean what they say, when to conclude otherwise would be to accuse them of inconsistency?

II : A R E P L Y T O M R . P L A M E N A T Z

Howard Warrender (i)

MAY I thank Mr. Plamenatz for his observations on my book. 7

To begin with general points ; it is not always clear how far Mr. Plamenatz disagrees with me and how far with Hobbes (e.g. p. 74). This ambiguity does not vitiate Mr. Plamenatz's argu­ments, but it does sometimes affect the onus of reply, as indicated below. Further, Mr. Plamenatz's paper suggests that the place of God is far more important in my treatment of Hobbes's doctrine than is the case. It will be convenient, therefore, to refer to the main plan of my book.

As Mr. Plamenatz points out, Hobbes makes three types of statement relating to human behaviour, descriptive, hypothetical, and imperative (Plamenatz, p. 74) . I am in no disagreement here. For the present discussion, however, we can use a rough two-fold distinction between descriptive and prescriptive principles.

Now, Parts I and II of my book, which make up some three­quarters of the whole, are concerned with piecing together the pattern of obligations in Hobbes's doctrine, with the conclusion, at this stage, that everything is dependent upon an obligation to obey natural law. I maintain that this pattern holds good regard­less of what Hobbes · means by obligation, provided it has some prescriptive meaning. With this proviso, the reader can fill in his own version of the matter, except of course that he will extract from political obligation only the kind of principle he puts into the laws of nature, whether this be moral or prudential or otherwise. So far, then, the place of God is not implicated, and such references as were made to God in this section of the work were only incidental to the argument.

Finally, in Part III, I turn to the question of what kind of obligation is involved. Here, I do not consider one solution, but three alternative solutions, any of which, I claim, will fit most of

7 [As a glance at some of the other chapters of this hook will show, Mr. Plamenatz has by no means been the only critic of Prof. Warrender's view of Hobbes. This article ir therefor�� of interert not only for its own sake, and as a Reply to Plamenatz, but also because i1 gives s;ome idea of the kind of deftnce that might be expected from its author against some of the other mggested olyections to his theories. Ed.]

90 H OWA R D W A R RE N D E R

the remainder of Hobbes's doctrine. These are, briefly, that obligation is to be based

(i) upon divine rewards and punishments,

(ii) simply upon the will of God,

(iii) upon a body of natural law having self-evident or intrinsic authority. (See Warrender, cbs. :xiii and xiv.)

The solution whereby obligation is based upon divine reward and punishment is considered at the greatest length in my book because it seemed most likely to be the answer that Hobbes himself intended, though there is considerable room for disagree­ment here. The second solution (see Warrender, pp. 229 ±f., 301) can be passed over for present purposes. The third solution is to base Hobbes's system upon a body of natural law which bears its own authority. Though pushing Hobbes, this com­pensation makes it unnecessary to introduce the role of God at all into Hobbes's political theory. I have pointed out that in any case Hobbes gained little beyond this position, 8 and that there are factors tending to reduce the alternatives to it. 9 This is the solution I would myself have preferred Hobbes to have taken, or to have been more definite in taking, though I did not make much of this point in a book intended to be mainly expository.

To have suggested three alternative solutions to the problem of the ground of obligation may appear overcautious, despite the ambiguity of this part of Hobbes's text. But the positive side of the matter should be noted. All three solutions offered above vary only within a narrow range ; they all result in some special status being given to natural law. This they do, either immedi­ately, as if we start from a natural law bearing its own authority; or indirectly, as if we start from God's will or his punishments and descend to natural law which in a special way is his permanent and unchangeable command. Thereafter, the whole system hangs upon natural law. Thus, if God can be removed from Hobbes's

8 By omitting the place of God and his punishments, and starting simply with natural law, Hobbes would have lost a certain formal analogy between natural law as command of God and civil law as command of the sovereign, which may have been taken by him as buttressing his position regarding the character of law as command, the superiority of statute to custom, the inadmissibility of constitutional­ism (see Warrender, pp. 302-11), but this hardly affects the central issue of the theory of obligation, and the substantial defence of his legal positivism is to be found elsewhere.

9 See, for example, below, pp. 93-94.

A R E P L Y T O M R . P L A .M E � A T Z 91

political doctrine, the thesis of my book is not, as I see it, mater­ially affected. But if natural law were to be removed, my main thesis at least would collapse, and that is definite enough.

In the central part of his paper Mr. Plamenatz is concerned to refute Hobbes within his own system. In particular, he argues that God is superfluous on the ground that Hobbes could have solved both his problem of political obligation and that of the motive for obedience by basing civil government upon ordinary self-interest alone. If valid, however, such an argument would eliminate not only God but also the laws of nature, as I have used them. We must pass, therefore, to Mr. Plamenatz's main contention.

(H) On the question of obligation, Mr. Plamenatz begins from

what he takes to be Hobbes's position, namely, that we are obliged to obey another person when we are so situated that, if we see the situation clearly, we cannot help but choose to do what he requires of us. Hence, Mr. Plamenatz argues, if men were un­equal, it does not follow that there could be no duties of obedience among them unless they derived from a prior duty to obey God. Did Hobbes ground his position on the fact that man's power, unlike God's, is always limited ?-and was he not mistaken in this ? (Plamenatz, pp. 77-78).

It is to be noted, in the first place, that Mr. Plamenatz does not start from the formula which I reached in my book, where obligation is connected to a sanction that is alwt!Js sufficient if clearly apprehended ; that is to say, to a sanction that would operate upon the same individual permanently, and also on other men, given due knowledge and reflection. Since only God exercises such a sanction, it follows that the only power that can produce obligation is God's power, and never the power of men. And so, all duties follow from God's power and his commands (natural law) (Warrender, pp. 287 ±f.). The case where a person exercises, at a given time, a sanction over another person that is adequate to compel obedience, we will distinguish from obliga­tion, for present purposes, simply by saying that the victim is in the power of his adversary. I think that Hobbes di� believe, rightly, that man's power is always limited and that men are permanently equal in all respects that matter for this discussion.

92 H OW A R D W A R R E N D E R

The position where one man has another in his power i s imper­manent over time ; it does not necessarily hold over other parties, and requires something extra to produce permanence. The main question is whether the state can be sustained upon a fragmentary relationship between two people, or even upon some attempt to produce this in a generalized form.

Now there is an analogy in Hobbes's doctrine, though I think a very deceptive one, between being obliged and being in another man's power. And Hobbes encourages the drawing of this analogy by making the limited power of men seem merely contingent, as when he maintains that if there were possible a natural man with a plenitude of power, he could govern all men naturally from his excess of power, without need of the artificial structure based upon the political covenant. This analogy invites us to assume that there is nothing special about God's power or divine sanctions except their efficiency and amount; and one is prompted to ask-If this is just a matter of scale, could not God be omitted, and the edifice built entirely, though more laboriously perhaps, from the smaller human components ? The use of this analogy underlies most of Mr. Plamenatz's attempts to refute Hobbes within his own system. It is also largely responsible for Hobbes's reputation as a 'tough' philosopher.

Concerning this analogy between the power of God and that of men, two main points are of interest ; (i) the analogy is, in itself, misleading, and (ii) although Hobbes suggests this analogy on occasion, he does not follow it in constructing his theory.

(i) The power of God, in Hobbes's political philosophy, strictly, differs from the power of men, not in degree, but in kind. These two kinds of power are different in mode of oper­ation and in purpose. The punishments of God are unknown, apart from beliefs based upon prophecy, etc., they concern a future world, and, here, they are directed only to one objective, namely, to support an unchangeable body of rational principles -the laws of nature. The power of men is associated with visible or tangible signs, it concerns mundane affairs, and is directed to secure any of the changeable and manifold objectives the wielder of that power sets for himself. As suggested above, being obliged by God's power comes down very much to simply being obliged to follow natural law. Being obliged by the power of a man would not be remotely the same.

A R E P L Y T O M R . P LA M E N A T Z 93

According to Hobbes's doctrine, God governs the world in three ways : (a) a governance of all that exists, by rules of the kind studied in natural science-this is not of present interest ; (b) a Natural Kingdom, in which God governs all men, Christian and infidel, by rational principles of conduct (natural law)-this is the only kingdom strictly relevant to Hobbes's political philosophy ; (c) a Prophetic Kingdom, in which God governed in a more personal way in certain biblical epochs, by positive law and revelation.10

Now the true analogy between the power of men and the power of God lies only within the prophetic and not the natural kingdom. In his prophetic kingdom, on the one hand, God was regarded as governing the Jews during some periods in a special and personal manner. He issued commands on any matter whatever, and administered direct punishments upon those who did not obey ; or he promised tangible rewards, such as the land of Canaan. Hobbes's natural man with a plenitude of power, if he existed, would be in the same position. He would be able to do everything without the need of a supplementary civil sove­reign, and moreover his government could be based solely upon the ordinary self-interest of the subject. It is only in such a context as this, however, which is no longer relevant for practical purposes, that the power of God can do everything in the sense under consideration; and it is only here also that self-interest alone will support the state.

In the natural kingdom of God, on the other hand, govern­ment is exercised entirely through a body of rational principles, the laws of nature, and a civil sovereign instituted or sustained from them. The power of God in this case has nothing to do except to provide some kind of authority for these rational principles, and to expect more is quite meaningless. This is the system of authority that is based upon rational knowledge, and the limitations of reason set its boundaries. Reason tells us the laws of nature, but very little more than this, 11 except, perhaps, the necessity of some hypothesis to account for their status.

to This is complicated by the fact that the individual can still covenant into such a kingdom and adopt revelations at second hand (i.e. prophecy) or (though very unlikely) may even have revelations himself and hence be obliged also. This com­plication, however, will not affect the present argument. See Warrender, pp. 83-85, 307-11 .

u Hobbes seems to have held that reason leads us to a knowledge of the existence of God as first-mover, but tells us nothing about God's nature nor about an after­life.

94 H O \V A R D W A R R E N D E R

Thls hypothesis can be filled in b y the individual according to his beliers and religion, Christian or otherwise, provided only that it supports the propositions of natural law ; or one may prefer to start simply from a natural law which bears its own authority. Similarly, the individual may believe that the punish­ments of God in some future state, beyond rational knowledge, will reconcile duty and individual self-interest ; or he may think that natural law has itself some special authority that augments ordinary self-interest. In any case, from the point of view of the r*?tional system of authority, these explanations can be regarded as a myth, in the sense that they are more important for what they do than for what they are. In some other context these beliefs may have a life of their own, but here their essence is to serve a function, that of supporting natural law. Now Hobbes's political philosophy belongs to the rational system of authority, and if we confine ourselves to this system, the power of God can be introduced only as a formal answer. "Csed in such a way, the power of G od clearly stands in marked contrast to God's power as it is exercised in hls personal kingdom, where it is known concretely through experience and revelation to those subject to it. It stands in like contrast to the power of man.

(ii) Where one man is in the power of another, Hobbes does not describe this as a case of obligation, as may be illustrated from his account of sovereignty by acquisition or conquest.

When the conqueror stands over his victim with drawn sword, it may well be that the victim cannot choose to do other than obey the conqueror's commands, if he realizes hls position. But, on Hobbes's view, no obligations arise here unless a covenant is made in which the vanquished has promised obedience in return for his life. After such a covenant, he is of course obliged, and it would be a breach of duty, and not simply against his interest, to break that agreement. Without such a covenant, or if he is kept imprisoned or shackled, or, in other words, if there is no element of trust in the situation, the vanquished may act as he wishes. As Hobbes puts the matter : 'It is not therefore the victory, that giveth the right of dominion over the vanquished, but his own covenant. Nor is he obliged because he is conquered; . . . but because he cometh in, and submitteth to the victor; . . .' (E.W. III, p . 189 ; see also Warrender, pp. 122 ff.). Hobbes conceded that temporary leaders and bands could come into existence, with

A R E P L Y T O �! R . P L A �1 E K A T Z 95

an authority and cohesion based simply upon self-interest in the ordinary sense. But he thought these were inherently unstable and could not form any prototype for the establishment of the state.12 The conqueror with drawn sword may hold hls victim through the victim's self-interest, but he must sometimes sleep or turn his back and, over time, can hold him only through his duty.

It may be objected, of course, that in the end duty only amounts to fear of God's punishments. In my book, I provided for this as one possible interpretation of duty, but added the qualification that in this context divine and human sanctions are not analogous, and duty would have to be described as at' least extraordinary self-interest or special prudence. In particular, it is to be noted that special prudence gives a different answer to the limits of political obedience from that resulting from ordinary self-interest.J3 With thls proviso, the more natural law is neglected and the more God and his punishments are emphasized, the easier it is to base Hobbes's system upon some kind of self-interest. But, in any event, this avenue is not open to Mr. Plamenatz, because he wishes to argue for self-interest and for the elimination of God and his punishments at the same time.

To turn from the problem of obligation to that of motive, Mr. Plamenatz contends that ordinary self-interest (that is, relating only to mundane and not to divine sanctions) would be enough to sustain the state (Plamenatz, pp. 76-81).

Now, it is agreed on all hands that following the laws of nature is in the ordinary self-interest of men in general (Warrender, pp. 272 ff.). The trouble arises, however, from the fact that there may be, purely on the level of ordinary self-interest, a discrepancy between the public interest and that of the individual. It is not merely that the individual may think that he can gain by being a criminal ; he may be right and succeed as many others have done in the past, and therefore no knowledge or reflection will change this opinion. Mr. Plamenatz admits these discrepancies between public and private interest, but overcomes them through the coercive effects of the state. In other words, granted the sove­reign needs a critical amount of loyalty in order to sustain his

12 See, for example, Liberijl, Necessiijl and Chance, E.W., V, pp. 1 83-4. ' • • . • but only a temporal league, which every discontented soldier may depart from when he pleases, as being entered into by each man for his private interest, without any obligation of conscience . . .'.

u See below, p. 96.

96 H O W A R D W A R R EN D E R

critical degree of power, ordinary self-interest in the �itizenry is enough to give such power and so can carry the exceptiOnal cases by being able to make crime unprofitable. Ho�bes thought

_ the

critical degree of power in the state to be more dtfficult to achteve and sustain than this, and he appears to be right.

On this point the problem is not one of philo��ph ic_al p�in�iple, though it may appear so, but one

. of polittcal t�stttuttons.

Admittedly, in a modern democracy wtth a stable soctety ot the type found in Britain or the U.S.A., there is �uch to be

,said for

Mr. Plamenatz's belief that the state can be earned on self-rnterest. It would be extremely difficult to seize power, for example, by a private act of assassination or a palace re_volu�i�n. But this is only very probable for western democractes ; lt 1

_s

. not assu�ed.

And are these typical states ? At most stages of pohttcal organtza­tion insurrections of various kinds cannot be made unprofitable as r�peated successes prove,

-�d bey�nd this level the �verage

citizen may gain more by watting passtvely to see who wrns. In such cases the argument from ordinary self-interest gives out long before what we might call the state has disappeared, and it may be more common than not to have a degree of inefficiency of this · kind.

In these circumstances Hobbes has a further argument. Where ordinary self-interest breaks down, he can still say that the citizen has an obligation to uphold constituted authorities, though in Hobbes's case not to the point of extreme risk of death. And so, a man may rebel to save his life, but not simply for gain, and the ordinary citizen has a duty to thwart the rebel, short of taking suicidal risks. Now, if a critical number of men will hold to the state up to the point of suicidal risk, and not merely to the point of ordinary self-inter_est, the

_ sover�ign will normally h�ve

sufficient power, and by his sanctions will be able to deal wtth recalcitrants by operating upon their self-interest alone.

Thus, Hobbes's theory needs the principle 'obey the sovereign to the point of suicidal risk', and this cannot be extracted from the ordinary principle of mundane self-interest, but only from the injunction to obey natural law,

_or beyond this (if such an

. inter­

pretation is preferred) from spectal prudence. It may be objected, here that the laws of nature themselves are only principles of self-�reservation and so co�e b�ck again to individual s�lf­interest. This is, however, m1sleadtng. Personal self-preservation

A R E P L Y TO M R . PLAMENATZ 97

in Hobbes is not what makes actions obligatory, but what sus­pends the obligation from actions that would otherwise be obliga­tory. The laws of nature (seek peace, keep covenants, etc.) are a special kind of rules for self-preservation and are not strictly rules for personal preservation-the individual may save himself by the most dubious means. They are rules for the preservation of men in general. And so, the formula required for the state is not 'preserve yourself' (though this is always permissible), but 'act so that all men can be preserved, except where this is inconsistent with your own preservation' .14 This is, of course, an entirely different matter, and a prescriptive principle of this kind could never be derived from the ordinary self-interest of the individual alone. If Mr. Plamenatz dispenses with the role of God and leaves no substitute, such as a self-evident natural law, how is such a principle to be supported ?

(iii)

Mr. Plamenatz argues further that God is superfluous to Hobbes's system from the fact that the third law of nature (keeping covenants) is conditional. Thus : God commands men to keep their covenant to obey the sovereign if they can do so safely. If God wants us to obey his laws, why should he say anything so absurd as : Obey only if others do so too, etc. (Plamenatz, pp. 79-80).

Hobbes's doctrine, as I have interpreted it, is not simply that one must keep covenants when it is safe to do so, and otherwise one can break them ; it is rather that one must keep covenants to the degree that it is safe to do so. The laws of nature in general, in so far as they require specific performance, are in the same position (see Warrender, chs. iii, iv, and pp. 147 ff.). The in­dividual is not obliged to do anything he honestly thinks to be suicidal, but, short of this, he remains obliged to do his best. This important residual obligation to do one's best, moreover, is not itself conditional. Or put another way, as Mr. Plamenatz agrees in his footnote (p. 80), the first law of nature which bids men seek peace is unconditional, for merely to seek peace does

14 See Warrender, pp. 215 ff., where I have argued that personal self-�res.ervation,

in Hobbes, is a right and not a duty, and so to be distinguished as a pnnctple from the laws of nature.

H

98 H OW A R D W A R REND E R

not add t o our danger.l5 True, as he further remarks, this law commits us to nothing specific. But it should be noted that though we are not hereby committed to a specific action detailed beforehand and the same for everyone, the action required of a particular person in a given situation is definite enough.

If we consider the same problem in terms of moral principles as generally understood, is not this what is believed to be the case ? that we have a duty to seek peace, but not to the point of suicidal risk ? Some pacifists would of course go further, but for most people it is a conditional and not an absolute principle. This does not hinder that in a given situation we may know perfectly dearly the difference between endeavouring peace and failing to do so. If God is regarded as the author of the moral law, there is no more absurdity in his commanding a conditional principle than there is in any system of conditional moral prin­ciples.16

On a related point, Mr. Plamenatz observes that we know very little of God and his punishments except from works of prophecy. He then asks, How shall we know which prophet to believe ?, giving as Hobbes's answer that we must accept the sovereign's verdict on this matter. Thus, he reaches the conclusion, 'It is on the sovereign's authority that we receive the doctrine without which it could not be our duty to keep the covenant to obey the sovereign. This may be what Hobbes taught. But it is not good logic' (Plamenatz, p. 82).

This conclusion is unfair to Hobbes. Political obedience depends ultimately upon the laws of nature, and in Hobbes's doctrine these laws are known to all men by the use of reason, regardless of their political society or religion. In their essential function of providing the basis for political obligation, more­over, these laws are in no respect dependent upon the Bible or any other work of prophecy, nor upon any selection of pro­phetical works designated by the sovereign.

15As Hobbes states the point, we have always an obligation to 'endeavour' peace. The term 'endeavour' seems to be related to Hobbes's theory of physics, where it is used to describe the preliminary small motions that tend to something. And so, this is not simply a duty to intend peace, but to act in that direction, however tentatively.

16 Mr. Plamenatz's supplementary arguments on this theme are based upon the false analogy between the power of God and the power of men, referred to above at p. 93.

A REP L Y T O M R . P LAMENATZ 99

The sovereign, it is true, is entitled to declare what parts of the Bible or other works of prophecy are to be taken as publicly authentic, and the citizen must conform in the matter of public profession and religious observances as with other parts of the civil law. But this does not affect the citizen's inner beliefs, which, as Hobbes points out, are beyond the reach of the sovereign or any other man, and in any event belief depends upon God's grace ; it cannot be commanded (Warrender, pp. 1 50 ff., 172 ff.). Similarly, natural law may receive an interpretation from the sovereign that becomes part of the civil law. But there remain outside this sphere the laws of nature as interpreted by the individual himself, and it is in this form that natural law controls when, and how far, the citizen must keep his covenant to obey the sovereign. As Hobbes makes clear, the basic obligation to keep the political covenant is prior to anything the sovereign decrees ; otherwise, there would be no need to take notice of what the sovereign had ordered, including of course his views on the works of prophecy. Nothing essential, therefore, depends upon the sovereign' s interpretations (Warrender, ch. vii, pp. 326 ff.) .

(iv)

Mr. Plamenatz raises briefly some miscellaneous points, and here space allows only a note.

On his statement that I might have taken my criticism of the covenant in Hobbes further and questioned the need for the covenant at all (Plamenatz, pp. 83 ff.) : I retain the covenant only because it may assist in the problem of the specificity of obligations and this is a minor argument (Warrender, ch. x). Now Mr. Plamenatz agrees that the first law of nature (seek peace) would not necessarily commit us to anything specific (p. 80 n.). He does not, however, take up this question of specificity with regard to the covenant. He is inclined, therefore, to over­estimate generally the weight that I put upon the covenant in Hobbes's doctrine, and at the same time ignores the subordinate justification that I produce for it.

Mr. Plamenatz's reductio ad absurdum of Hobbes's argument, obedience=submission=(tacit) covenant=obligation to obey: therefore to obey is to be obliged to obey (Plamenatz, pp. 83-85) : Simple obedience in Hobbes never produces obligation, which

100 HOWARD WARREN D E R

always depends upon some sort of covenant of submission. Tacit covenant does not destroy this position, because even the weakest form of tacit covenant involves an element of trust, which is the hall-mark of all covenants. This element of trust always separates covenant from simple obedience and Mr. Plamenatz's equation cannot be sustainedP

On 'rights', Mr. Plamenatz's objection ('I may have a right, in the ordinary sense . . .', p. 85 appears to be a non sequitur and does not controvert my formula any more than his own.18

17 Mr. Plamenatz's argument here also depends in part upon the false analogy between the power of God and the power of men. On this, see above, pp. 92-93.

18 For the development of a number of topics related to the above paper, see also Warrender 'Obligations and Rights in Hobbes', Philosophy, Vol. XXXVII (1962), pp. 352-7 ; and The Study of Politics, Belfast, 1 963, Sect. IV.

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H O B B E S ' S C O N F U S I N G ' CL A R I T Y ' - T H E

CA S E O F ' LI B E R T Y '

J. Roland Pennock

THE Leviathan has been described as 'original, persuasive, solid, coherent' .1 General commentaries on Hobbes usually single out

his logic for special praise ; more detailed critiques generally unearth a mass of confusions and inconsistencies. 2 Confusions and inconsistencies there certainly are ; more, I believe, than one would expect to find in the work of a man of such undeniable logical powers. Speculation upon the psychological explanation of this fact is intriguing, but no part of the purpose of the present article. 3 It is part of my purpose, however, to contend that Hobbes's passion for clarity and certainty may have played a part in leading him to adopt perverse definitions, to which even he did not consistently adhere and which constituted a major source of con.fusion.4 Conversely, I disagree with those who say

1 John Plamenatz, 'Hobbes's "Leviathan" ', The Mambester Guardian Weekly, Vol. 64, April 19, 1951.

2 Note Plamenatz's own conclusion, in 'Mr. Warrender's Hobbes', that Hobbes 'is much more ambiguous and illogical than at first reading he appears to be.' It may be remarked at this point that there is a degree of parallelism between certain of Warrender's arguments concerning Hobbes's theory of obligation and my arguments concerning his use of the concept of liberty. See his The Political Philosop}Jy of Hobbes-His Theory of Obligation (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1 957). However, I am not concerned to take sides in the controversy over Warrender's thesis and my argument does not depend upon it. Both Warrender and his critics (see below, note 38) admit that Hobbes says things that are inconsistent with their interpretations of his meaning. I would be inclined to argue that he is so inconsistent that it i s impossible to construct a single, coherent argument and defend the proposition that it represents the real Hobbes.

3 In his very enlightening book, Hobbes (Penguin Books, 1956), Richard Peters declares that 'It was the possibility of attaining certainty which so attracted Hobbes whose deep-seated feeling of insecurity was aggravated by the objective facts of the political situation' (p. 49).

• 'The only way to know', said Hobbes, 'is by definition.' E. W. II, p. 305. The importance of definition is not to be gainsaid ; but Hobbes's eagerness for certain knowledge in areas where something less than this is all that can be expected led him astray.

1 02 J . R O L A N D P E NN O C K

his analytical system i s sound and only his empirical assumptions about human nature are open to serious criticism. 5

More specifically, one may profitably inquire whether there is some central concept that serves as a focal point for many of these difficulties. For example, it is often suggested, with merit, that Hobbes's perversion, or inversion, of the traditional meaning of 'jus naturale' plays such a role. Without making any exclusive claim or denying the insights that may be gained by concentrating attention upon other focal points, my hypothesis is that under­standing of Hobbes may be deepened by an examination of his use of the word 'liberty'. I shall deal first with his definitions of the term, and then in turn with his applications of it to natural right and natural law, to sovereignty by acquisition, and finally to the social contract. I shall argue that his method, as illustrated by his definitions, leads him occasionally into confusion or incon­sistency, and more frequently tends to confuse the reader and so to enable Hobbes to make an unsound conclusion appear sound, by means of specious reasoning. In particular, I shall contend that Hobbes's treatment of liberty (1) leads him into self-contra­diction regarding the extent of natural liberty, (2) enables him to argue persuasively but speciously in support of the obligation to obey a sovereign who has attained his position by violence, and (3) prevents him from developing an acceptable theory of political obligation.

I. THE DEFINITION OF LIBERTY

Hobbes uses different definitions of liberty for different circumstances. Particularly, he finds it useful to adopt one definition of liberty for the state of nature and another for civil society. Of course, this in itself involves no inconsistency. (Indeed, I believe it can be shown that the two definitions can be reduced, au fond, to the same.) My point is rather that both the fact of having two definitions and the particular definitions he chooses contribute to the confusion of Hobbes or his readers or both.

o For instance, J. W. Gough writes, 'Hobbes's political theory is explained by his general theory of human nature . . . .' The Social Contract (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1957), p. 105. Hobbes sought to dev:elop a theory of political _obligation, and in doing so he relied on much more that IS open to challenge than hts theory of human nature.

H O B B E S ' S C O N F U S I N G 'C L A R I T Y'- C A S E O F 'L I B E R T Y' 103

In Chapter 14 of Leviathan, Hobbes defines liberty as 'the absence of external impediments', or, as he states it in Chapter 21, the absence of hindrance to doing whatever man has the will, wit, and ability to do.6 This definition appears to fall within what has become and, according to Hobbes, was already the 'generally received' meaning of the word, in England. 7 Closer examination reveals, however, that Hobbes pushes his analysis to conclusions not generally accepted by those who concur in the 'generally received' definition. In defining liberty as 'the absence of . . . external impediments of motion', he insists on the qualification 'external'. Thus liberty is consistent with fear. 8 A man robbed at gunpoint would be free, according to Hobbes's doctrine. Not the robber (external), but the fear (internal) constitutes the impedi­ment. If the victim hands over his wallet he is acting voluntarily ; and, for Hobbes, a voluntary action and a free action are one and the same. A man who makes a contract in the state of nature is not relieved of obligation by the fact that his action may have been the result of coercion, for he acted freely. 9

Why did Hobbes take this curious position ? It seems unlikely that in his day any more than in ours a man who, for fear of losing his life, allowed a robber to take his money would be generally considered to be free-as free, that is, as the man who was faced with no such hard choice. Perhaps the first explanation that

6 Leviathan, edited with an Introduction by Michael Oakeshott, pp. 84 and 136-37. The second formulation comes from the chapter on 'the liberty of subjects,' but it appears in that portion of the chapter in which Hobbes is still discussing liberty in general. He writes : 'Liberty, or freedom, signifieth, properly, the absence of opposition ; by opposition, I mean external impediments of motion . . . .' (Lev., p. 136). And again : 'according to this proper, and generally received meaning of the word, a FREEMAN, is he, that in those things, which by his strength and wit he is able to do, is not hindered to do what he has a will to.' Lev., p. 137.

7 Mortimer J. Adler has recently pointed out that the prevalence of this concept of freedom in England is in sharp contrast to Continental European ideas. See his 'Freedom : a Study of the Development of the Concept in the English and American Traditions of Philosophy,' The Review of Metapf?ysics, Vol. 11 (1958), pp. 380--410, at 395.

8 Lev., p .136. 9 'Covenants entered into by fear, in the condition of mere nature are obligatory.'

Lev., p. 91. According to normal usage such covenants are coerced, creating no obligation, and leaving us free to disregard them. According to Hobbes, such covenants (in a state of nature) are freely made, are obligatory, and hence limit our liberty.

At one point Hobbes flatly contradicts his general contention that liberty is consistent with fear --interestingly enough, in his discussion of the obligation to obey God. He speaks of this obligation as a limitation upon liberty and says it comes from 'hope or fear, according to which the weaker, despairing of his own power to resist, cannot but yield to the stronger.' E. W. II, p. 209.

104 J . R O L AN D PENN O C K

suggests itself is that Hobbes needed t o define liberty in this fashion in order to be able later to say that men who covenant to obey a usurping tyrant are bound by their promises. A better explanation might be that Hobbes, who valued security far more than liberty, wished to define the latter in such a way that it would be at once widespread and of little importance. What may be an even more fundamental explanation is to be found in connection with his theory of determinism. All actions are caused, necessi­tated, he maintained. To speak of actions that are 'freely willed' or 'freely chosen' accordingly makes no sense to Hobbes. Freedom must be compatible with necessity. The only useful basis for distinguishing free acts from unfree acts, or certainly the most fundamental basis, we can imagine Hobbes saying, is to draw tht line between voluntary and involuntary acts ; that is, between those where the line of causation moves through the mind and those where it does not. Something either checks me from doing what I will or it does not. It it does, I am not free ; otherwise I am. In other words, wishing to deny that 'caused' acts, as such, are unfree, he seized upon n1ill as the test. All voluntary acts (or forbearances), the product of will, are free.10

Closely related to the last point, and perhaps most funda­mental of all, is the fact that Hobbes's chosen definition was one admitting of easy and clear application. Liberty thus defined was sharply delimited and was not a matter of degree. Such definitions were essential for his mode of reasoning. His method was logical and deductive, not empirical. Empirical science deals constantly with matters of degree ; but classical logic and its deductive reasoning seek to avoid measurement. Two statements are either mutually contradictory or they are not, as two lines are either parallel or not parallel ; and so, according to Hobbes, an act is either free or it is unfree-there are no half-way houses.

What has been said thus far relates to natural liberty, 'which only>, says Hobbes, 'is properly called liberty'.11 Hobbes goes on,

10Lev., pp. 137-38. Hobbes could not accept a doctrine of 'internal' restraints. Restraints upon what ? he would ask. Upon will, presumably. But will, he held, is merely 'the last appetite in deliberating' (Lev., p. 38); it is not a 'faculty'. If any 'internal' source controls behaviour, it does not limit or restrain the will, it is the will.

It is worth noting in passing an instance of the difficulty Hobbes had in holding to his own definition. Deliberation, he says, is so called (apparently assuming a false etymology) 'because it is putting an end to the liberty we had of doing, or omitting, according to our own appetite or aversion.' Ibid., p. 37. Here he appears to have forgotten about 'external impediments. '

11 Ibid., p. 138.

H O B B E S ' S C O N F U S I N G 'C L A R I TY'- C A S E O F 'L I B E RT Y' 105

however, to speak of 'the liberty of subjects'. In this context he recognizes that civil laws, while not really 'external impediments' as previously discussed, are 'artificial chains', 'made to hold, by the danger, though not by the difficulty of breaking them'.12

Liberty for subjects, accordingly, consists in those things not forbidden by law, that is by the law of the state.

Why should Hobbes, in the context of the state, modify the definition of liberty as the absence of external impediments and admit the impediment of fear, which he had so recently ruled out ? Apparently he makes exception only for the fear of the sovereign. (Obviously he does not wish to say that men are generally tree to disobey rhe laws !) But if a man is free when his action is prompted by fear of a highwayman, why should not the same be true when a policeman provides the motive ? An answer to these puzzling questions begins to take shape if we examine the continuation of his argument. After &;missing certain miscon­ceptions that need not concern us here, Hobbes proceeds to discuss what he calls 'the particulars of the true liberty of the subject'.13 Under this head he speaks of those things in which the subject may defy the soverign's commands 'without injustice'. What are they ? They are the rights that cannot �y covenant be transferred. And he speaks of these rights as 'liberty'. He had said, just before, that the liberty of the subject consisted 'only in those things, which in regulating their actions, the sovereign hath praetermitted'.l4 But now he speaks of those instances in which subjects enjoy the liberty to defy and resist the laws ! To resolve this paradox, Hobbes is forced to argue that natural liberty, which is unhindered by law, is retained, in part, evm in civil sociery. He does this by arguing that man is psychologically incapable of giving up the liberty (right) of defending himself.1G

For a better understanding of Hobbes's reasoning here, we must go back and examine his words more carefully. Let us have the whole paragraph in question before us :

But as men, for the attaining of peace, and conservation of themselves thereby, have made an artificial man, which we call a commonwealth; so also they have made artificial chains, 12 Jbid. t3 Ibid., p. 141. 14 Ibid., p. 139. This is consistent with his reasoning that liberty is freedom from

chains and that the commands of the sovereign (civil laws) are 'artificial chains' and, as such, limit the liberty of the subject just as actual chains limit the liberty of the natural man.

t• Lev., p. 91-92.

106 J . R O L A N D P E N N O C K

called civil laws, which they themselves, by mutual covenants, have fastened at one end, to the lips of that man, or assembly, to whom they have given the sovereign power; and at the other end to their own ears. These bonds, in their own nature but weak, may nevertheless be made to hold, by the danger, though not by the difficulty of breaking them.16

Why the reference to 'mutual covenants' ? It would appear that they, as well as the fear of the sovereign power, must be thought to add something to the binding power of the artificial chains. (Hobbes's words in the last sentence, 'these bonds in their own nature weak', must be taken, despite the syntax, to refer to cove­nants rather than to laws ; for the laws, as such, apart from cove­nant and 'danger', would be completely powerless.) Moreover, Hobbes persistently thinks of the covenant as having force (binding quality) of its own. In the succeeding paragraph he declared that the sovereign can never do injustice to the subject 'because every subject [by the compact] is author of every act the sovereign doth',17 Also, two pages later, Hobbes speaks of 'what liberty we deny ourselves' by acknowledging the acts of the sovereign as our own. But how can we, in Hobbes's terms, deny ourselves liberty, either natural or artificial ? The answer appears in the next sentence, which reads ' . . . in the act of our submission, consisteth both our obligation, and our liberty; which must, therefore, be inferred by arguments taken from thence ; there being no obligation on any man, which ariseth not from some act of his own; for all men equally, are by nature free'.I8 In the following sentence, too, 'liberty' and 'obligation' are placed in opposition to each other. It seems clear from these examples that Hobbes, without explicitly saying so, has introduced a new and significant item into his definition of liberty. The liberty of a subject is now, partly by implication, defined as that area in which a man is not prevented from doing what he has the will, wit, and ability to do, by external impediments, by civil laws, or by obligations.

Other passages confirm this interpretation. A page later, when he is considering the obligation of a subject to perform 'any dangerous or dishonourable office', Hobbes concludes that, if refusal frustrates the end for which sovereignty is ordained, 'then there is no liberty to refuse ; otherwise there is'.1 9 Clearly the

16 Ibid., p. 138. " Ibid., p. 139. 18 Ibid., p. 141 ; and see ibid., p. 84. 19 Ibid., p. 142.

H O B B E S ' S C O N F U S I N G 'C L A R I T Y'- C A S E O F 'L I B E R T Y' 107

difference between the two situations is neither one of external impediment nor of civil law ; it is a matter of obligation-an obligation arising in this case from the covenant. This argument reinforces the suggestion that perhaps, in Hobbes's original discussion of civil laws as limiting liberty, the reference to 'mutual covenants' was not without significance.20

To recapitulate : Hobbes's principle now appears to be that the only limits on man's freedom, besides physical ones, are

_obliga­

tions.21 Civil laws limit freedom because they are authonzed by the subject himself, because he has covenanted to obey them (rather than because of the danger to the la�?reaker? ·

.Moreover,

all obligations, whether or not enacted as ctvtl law, hm1t freedo�. This theory of Hobbes's meaning not only seems to accord wtth what he says, but also has the virtue of greater simplicity. He now has one concept of liberty that applies under all conditions : liberty comprises the area in which a person is not prevented fry OBLIG

.A­

TIONS or external impediments (rom doing whatever he has the will, wit, and ability to do. 22 . .

One might add that since, according to Hobbes, all obhgattons are self-imposed, this element of the definition is not so much

. an

addition to the notion of 'external impediments' as an elaboration of what is implied by the term 'will' in the definition. One cannot be assumed to will something contrary to what he has bound himself to by an act of will. Although such a 'real will' theory would do violence to Hobbes's definition of the will as merely

2o Above, p. 106. It may be argued that, for Hobbes, all obligations are. law�, either civil laws or laws of God, and that therefore the hberty of the subJect ts simply absence of law or, better, wha� is t;tot prohibited by law: I agree that Hobbes assimilates civil laws and other obhgattons, as they affe<:t hberty. The potnt ts, however, that he does so, in the present context, by refernng to the1r common origin in consent. . . . 21 Since Hobbes is discussing whether there ts an obhgatton to obey the law, he clearly does not refer to legal o�ligations . . w�eth�r.what he refers t<? corresponds to the usual understanding of moral obhgattons IS open. to questto� and ne.ed not be decided here. Warrender would answer the questton affirmattvely, �1th qualifications (op. cit., p. 10). <?ak�shot� believes .he _find� in tJ:ob.b�s, bes�des 'physical obligation,' 'rational obl1gat10n,' moral obhgatwn, and poht1cal obliga-tion.' Lev., pp. lix-lxi. . . . . h , 1 · •• Whether Hobbes's failure to ment10n obhgattons along Wit externa 1m-pediments' as limitations on liberty in his �isc17ssiot;t of liberty in the state of na�ure signifies that he believed there were no obhgatwns m that state, or on�y that obhga­tions in such a situation were so few and weak that they could be disregarded for all practical purposes is a quest! on th.at need no� concern us here. The first e:x;plana­tion accords with the conventiOnal mterpretatwn of Hobbes ; the second wtth the view set forth by Warrender, op. cit. Hobbe�'s statemen�, cited above, that men are subject to no obligations except those that anse from the1r own acts tends to support the conventional interpretation. Lev. p. 141 .

108 J . R O L A N D P E NN O C K

'the last appetite in deliberating', i t comes perilously close t o being implied by the statement that 'every subject is author of every act the sovereign doth',23 and it may well explain his enlargement of his original definition of liberty.24

II. LIBERTY AND THE RIGHT OF NATURE

Among Hobbes's applications of the concept of liberty perhaps the most significant relates to the jus nat11rale or Right of Nature. Contrary to the most common tradition, Hobbes insisted not only on sharply distinguishing the jus naturale from the lex natura/is but even on opposing them to each other. He translates the terms 'jtts' and 'lex' as 'right' and 'law' and declares that the former 'consisteth in liberty to do, or to forbear' while the latter 'determinetb and bindeth to one of them: so that law, and right, differ as much as obligation and Iiberty'.25 Thus on one side we have 'jus', 'right', and 'liberty', and, opposed to them, 'lex', 'law', and 'obligation'. The nearest Hobbes comes to trying to justify this usage is a passage in the Dialog11e of the Co!n!Jion Law in which he defines lex as what the law commands or prohibits and

jus as what the law permits, going on to say that 'my right is a liberty left me by the law to do anything which the law forbids me not, and to leave undone anything which the law commands me not'.26 Here of course Hobbes is speaking of liberty within a regime of law. It is the underlying assumption of such a regime that what is not prohibited i s permitted ; that where there i s no law there is no obligation, and rightful liberty prevails. But what of the state of nature ? For the same reasoning to hold, Hobbes

2a Ibid., p. 139. . 24 It will be noticed that the discussion above is based entirely upon the Levzathan.

Hobbes scarcely mentions the subject of liberty in De cive (except to use it as the title of the section dealing with the state of nature and natural rights) .and d�es so only briefly in The Elements of Law. What he does say in the �atter work ts constste'?t with the treatment in Leviathan. Liberty of the subject 1n a commonwealth ts nothing more than equality of opportunity for preferments, 'for in all other senses, liberty is the state of him that is not subject.' E. W. IV, p. 1 58.

25 Lev., p. 84. 26 E. W. VI, p. 30. Although it is true that the distinction between jus and lex was

generally disregarded or minimized, and Hobbes declares that Coke uses the terms interchangeably, it is interesting to note that Suarez, in one of the most careful of seventeenth century treatments of the subject, discusses two meanings of ju.r, . one synonymous with lex and the other oppose� to it. The. latter, he declares, 1s

. 'a

certain moral power which every man has, etther over hts own property ?r w10 :respect to that which is due him.' •A Treatise on Laws and God the Lawgtver,' m James Brown Scott (ed.), Seleciion.rfrom Three Work.r of Francisco Suarez, S.J. (Oxford : Clarendon Press, 1944), Vol. 2, pp. 29-30

H O B B E S ' S C ON F U S I N G 'C L A R I T Y'- C A SE O F 'L I B E R T Y' 109

would have to identify the Right of Nature with the area of 'no obligation', or 'no law', civil or nat11ral. If he d�d �o, the Righ� of Nature would appear to be liberty without hmtt, a conclusiOn that would accord with his statement in Leviathan that all our obligations proceed from some act of our own. However, he does not extend his remarks about liberty and law to the state of nature in the Dialof!.ue; and as will appear, it is doubtful whether he was prepared to defend the full implications of such an extension.

In Chapter 14 of Leviathan, however, Hobbes argues t�at the Right of Nature is 'the liberty each man

. hath, t� use h1s own

power, as he will himself, for the preservatiOn of h1s .own natu.re ; that is to say, of his own life ; and consequently, of domg �ything which, in his own judgment, and reason, he shall conce1v� to be the aptest means thereunto'.27 In the

.par�llel pass�ge m The

Elentents of Law, he declares that 'that which ts not agamst reason, men call right, or jtts, or b!a!Jie!ess liberry of using our own natural power and ability'.2B True, if liberty means .abs�nce ot moral (assuming that 'obligation' includes moral o�hgat1�n) as well as physical impediment, the phrase 'blameless liberty' 1s redundant. Nevertheless, the most sensible interpretation appears to be to assume that this was a deliberate redundancy for the sake of making the meaning doubly clear. The significant point is that

.he identifies right, orj11s, not (as sometimes has been thought)

. w1th

power or with liberty without limit but with the b!a!Jie!ess liberty of using power. Also, one of the major points of Chapter �4. of Leviathan i s to prove that it is a law of nature that

.men �e wtllin

.g

to 'lay down', or 'transfer' certain rights. If a ngh� (liberty) �s merely a power, an absence of chains (physical i�pedlments), tt 1s hard to see how this would be possible. Clearly tt 1s not the power but the right (liberty) to exercise the power :nat

.can be ren�un�ed

or transferred, and this by accepting an obhgatwn, an obhgatwn to restrain the exercise of power.29

21 Lev., p. 84. This argument is parallel in De Cive, E.W. II, pp. 8-10 and in E. W. IV, p. 83.

zs E.W. IV, p. 83. · h 29 Note also the sentence in De Cive reading 'For although any n;an D?tg t say of every thing, this is mine, yet could he no� e':joy it, by reason of hts ne1ghbour, who having equal right, and equal power [1tahcs added], would pr�ten4 �he �arne thing to be his.' E. W. II, p. 11. Here Hobbes clearly do�s not consider r�ght a

.nd

'power' to be the same thing. Finally, one ma'i; refer agam to the passage m whtch Hobbes upholds the obligation to pay IaJ?-SOm m a ?tate of !1-ature, although clearly the erstwhile captive has the power to d1sregard h1s promise. Lev., p. 91.

1 10 J • ROLAND PENN O C K

It appears, then, that Hobbes admits, at least tacitly, the need to justify mao's use of his liberty. The question then arises why. in the state of nature, mao is free (under no contrary obligation) 'to use his own power, as he will himself, for the preservation of his own nature'.30 Hobbes's reply, stated more clearly in The Elements of Law and in De Cive than in Leviathan, is (1) that men of necessity seek their own good and seek to avoid all evil, of which death is the greatest, and (2) that, therefore, it cannot be against right reason (and 'which is not contrary to right reason, that all men account to be done justly'), for a man to use all his powers to defend himself. 31 While in the state of nature, right or liberty is almost without limit, since the nature of man is such that in the absence of a sovereign power almost anything might not un­reasonably be judged necessary to protecting one's life and limbs ; yet it is not quite so (at least according to the De Cive argument), A man must be his own judge of what is necessary for his preservation, and from his judgment in the state of nature there can be no appeal, but 'if any man pretend somewhat to tend necessarily to his own preservation, which yet he doth not confidently believe so, he may offend against the laws of nature'.32 This proviso, which is not repeated in Leviathan, appears to qualify the statement that 'every man has a right to every thing' (Lev. , p. 85) by the addition of the clause 'insofar as he honestly judges it necessary for his preservation'.

Yet how much does the proviso mean? Why would a man take anything if he did not judge it necessary for his preservation ? Presumably because he judged it in some other way profitable to him. But Hobbes has also said that 'in the state ot nature profit is the measure of right'.33 And this significant expansion of the claim of liberty beyond what is necessary for self-preservation is implicit in Hobbes's theory and is often made explicit but not elaborated. It is implicit because of his doctrine that man neces­sari!J chooses that which appears to him the less evil. 34 It is made explicit when Hobbes refers from time to time to other goods than life itself, to comforts, commodious living, and the 'means to live well'. 35 But this line of reasoning proves too much­more than Hobbes wishes to prove (which is doubtless why his

30 Lev., p. 84. 31 E. If�". II, pp. 8-9 ; and see E. W. IV, p. 83. 32 E. W. II, p. 10. 113 E. W. II, p. 11. " E. W. II, p. 75; also p. 26. 35 See Lev., p. 64; also p. 81 and p. 84.

HOBBES ' S CONFL'S ING 'cLARITY'-CASE OF 'L IBERTY' 1 1 1

emphasis is always on the preservation of life and limb rather than on commodious living and other aids to felicity). For what he has said is (1) that whatever a man does, he does of necessity ; and (2) that it cannot be wrong to do what he cannot help but do, so it must be right.36 From these propositions it would follow that whatever a man does is right; and this would hold for civil society as well as for the state of nature.37

In other words, if, on the one hand, natural liberty is to be equated with power (an interpretation of Hobbes to which I do not subscribe), then, as has been pointed out by many writers from Rousseau's time to the present, there is no basis for any moral obligation, or for obligation in any sense other than that of necessity. And this proposition holds as well for civil society as for the state of nature. But if, alternatively, there are obligations (even of the prudential variety) in the state of nature, then natural liberty is not without limit : it is not the right to everything, as Hobbes declares it to be.

aa It is true that Hobbes appears to be trying to identify what is right with what is reasonable. How he obtains radical conclusions from this traditional position appears, however, when we inquire why i t is always reasonable and right to

, seek

what is good for oneself. Hobbes's answer is that one does so necessanly ( by a certain impulsion of nature, no less than that whereby a stone moves downward'), and that it cannot be unreasonable for one to do what he cannot help but do, and that therefore it must be right. E. W'. II, pp. 8-9.

3 7 Of course this was not Hobbes's meaning ; but it is my contention that it is the logical conclusion of his line of argument. His intention, on the other hand, was clearly to deduce and down certain standards of right conduct. Whether these standards, these 'laws nature,' were more than prudential rules, more than theorems about what man's interest is and about how he would behave if he reasoned accurately, is not my present concern. It i s clear, however, that whatever their nature, Hobbes believed they applied, in certain instances, in the state of nature. Under certain circumstances, this was true, for example, of the third law of nature 'that men perform their covenants.' Thus, a covenant to pay ransom, though made in the state of nature, would be binding. Lev., p. 91. The same is true of the social compact itself. . .

The case for believing that Hobbes's laws of nature and other obltganons had more than a prudential foundation has been argued persuasively by A. E. Taylor, 'The Ethical Doctrine of Hobbes' ; by Sterling Lamprecht in his Introduction to Thomas Hobbes, De Cive or The Citizen (New York, 1949), pp. xv-xxx ; and most fully by Howard Warrender, op. cit. Recently the Taylor thesis has been subjected to attack by Stuart M. Brown, Jr., [see chaps. 2-3 above]. See also Thomas Nagel 'Hobbes's Concept of Obligation,' Philosophical Review, (Jan., 1959), pp. 68-83. Without choosing sides in this controversy, it is enough for present purposes to note two or three points. First, the whole concept of transferring rights, upon which Hobbes based the contract, would be impossible unless this may be done �y accepting obligations, which in turn cannot be done in a state of nature unless, m that state, there is an obligation to keep one's promises. That is to say, if we a�cept the 'prudential' theory of the laws of nature, then the contract drops out as a logtcally significant element in Hobbes's theory----a point that has o[t:en been made. More­over, whether or not Hobbes meant more than the prudential argument, he clearly

1 12 J , R OL A N D PENN O C K

Moreover, if Hobbes is mistaken in concluding that natural liberty is unlimited, something must be wrong with at least one of the two propositions just stated above, by which he seeks to substantiate that conclusion : namely, (1) that all human actions are necessitated, and (2) that what is necessitated cannot be wrong, and therefore, must be right. The error, for present purposes, is in the second of these propositions. Whether or not we accept determinism, we distinguish in moral discourse (as Hobbes himself does) between voluntary and involuntary actions, and we hold men morally responsible for the former (or rather for that class of voluntary actions we call 'free') whether or not they are necessitated. Thus, we deny the second proposition above ; and Hobbes himself does so, by implication, whenever he refers to any human action as wrong, and explicitly, in his controversy with Bishop Bramhall. 38 Herein lies one of his basic inconsisten­cies. At one moment he relies on determinism to excuse any action ; but at other times he is unwilling to excuse all actions, as is implied indeed by the enumeration and elaboration of 'immut­able and eternal' natural laws. 39

Hobbes could have avoided this serious inconsistency in either of two ways. He might have held that what is necessitated may still be wrong if it is voluntary ('free' in Hobbes's sense). This line of argument would have been completely unsatisfactory to him, however, because it would have undercut his justification for acts of self-preservation. He could also have argued that acts

seeks to give the impression that he meant and proved more�.g., that the contract played a very impo�tant role in his theory. Accordingly, we are justified in taking seriOusly parts of h1s argument that seem to go beyond the prudential.

Stuart Bro:-vn, Jr. con�ends �ha� it is absu�d to argue. t�at grounding obligation on covenants. lmphes a pnor pnnc1ple regardmg the validity of covenants, because �he very not�on . of covenants implies obligation to perform. But surely it must Imply an obhgat10n m.dependent of, and prior to the covenants ; hence this leaves unanswered the question of how it is possible to have covenants in a situation (state of nature) in which no obligations exist. Later he deelares 'Hobbes never doubts the general validity of covenants and thus never requires any guarantee of their obligatory character.' [See ch. 3, n. 29, above.] The fact that Hobbes asmmes the validity of covenants and their obligatory character appears, however, to support rather than to negate the proposition that he believes his third law of nature is applicable in a state of nature.

38 E. W. IV, pp. 252-254. • 39 Lev., p. 104. Warrender, confining his analysis mainly to contractual obliga­

ttons, argues that such obligations normally do not hold in the state of nature because of the absence of the 'validating condition' of security. Yet much of the force of h1� main argument derives from instances sueh as the promise to pay ransom after bemg freed, where Hobbes does hold that there is obligation in the state of nature. See Lev., p. 91 and Warrender, op. cit., ch. 5.

. , . \

H O B BE S ' S C O N F U S I N G 'C L A R I T Y'- C A S E O F 'L I B E R T Y' 1 1 3

which are necessitated may be wrong if they are free in a more commonly accepted sense of that term-for instance, acts taken from a desired or neutral motive. According to such a definition, acts motivated by fear of violent death would not be free and might be justified on that ground. This escape from his dilemma was denied to Hobbes by his definition of liberty.

III. LIBERTY AND SovEREIGNTY BY AcQUISITION

We noticed earlier that Hobbes departed from most usual notions of freedom by making it compatible with fear. He stuck rigidly to the idea that voluntary actions are free, refusing to recognize that the nature of the immediate cause of the volition was relevant. One of his most significant applications of this idea appears in his discussion of sovereignty 'by acquisition'. There he uses it to support the proposition that a subject who agrees, explicitly, to obey a conqueror as the price of his life has made a binding contract. Mter all, he was 'free' to go on resisting !40 But surely he is here using his unusual definition of liberty to achieve a result that would not be generally acceptable. Normally we would not acknowledge as morally binding (quite apart from law) a promise constrained at sword's point. The action is to be sure voluntary, but it is not 'free' ; or, we would say, if freedom be defined in this perverse way, then not all 'freely' made contracts are binding. Freely accepted obligations are binding only when 'freely' means more than 'voluntarily', when it refers to a certain class of voluntary actions only. We look at the circumstances attending the choice, the act of deliberation or will. If the motive, or (to use Hobbes's terms) the last appetite or aversion, is fear, we do not call the act free. If you influence my action by a threat (i.e., by fear of you), it would generally be said that I am not free with respect to the behaviour in question ; while i± you achieve your purpose by appeal to hope I am con­sidered to be free. At least, I believe, this is true when it is a question of fear of death. Whether or not milder threats are generally thought to be compatible with liberty is perhaps

'0 The argument stressed at this point(Lev., p. 130) is that the vanquished subject is just as free as those who institute sovereignty by compact among themselves, for they too are motivated by fear-in that ease, fear of each other. But if this is so, then the argument set forth below against his sovereignty by acquisition is equally applicable to his sovereignty by institution.

I

114 J . ROLAND PENN O C K

debatable, and need not be decided for present purposes.41 But Hobbes preferred the sharp line between voluntary and involun­tary to the less clear distinction between actions motivated by fear and those not so motivated-often a matter of degree. Of course he may use any definition he likes. The point is that, by using the one he does, he tends to confuse the reader and to add a specious persuasiveness to his argument.

IV. THE SociAL CoNTRACT

Finally, let us look at the social contract in the light of what Hobbes says of it in his discussion of commonwealths by acquisi­tion. We must now think of the contracts which each makes with each other as though they were compelled by a conqueror on pain of death-coerced in the strongest sense ot that word. If we do think of them that way, most of us would feel they were not morally binding and that they would control our action only as long as, and in proportion to, the apprehension of danger that prompted them. The common teaching of the history of con­quests supports this view. Beyond this, such social contracts would be effective only to the extent that men had some faith in other men's tendency to abide by an agreement for its own sake, or that the conqueror afterward acted benignly. But if Hobbes had been willing to say that freedom and fear were not compatible and that freedom was a matter of degree, it would have followed that the social contract itself would be morally binding and prac­tically effective just as far as it was not the result of fear and was freely made. It would be morally binding because freely made and it would be practically effective because men, having acted freely in making it, must he assumed to have some desire to keep it, apart from fear of the consequences.

Of course Hobbes did make the latter assumption. It appears in various places, but perhaps most clearly in that passage in De Cive in which he writes : 'More dearly, therefore, I say thus : that a man is obliged by his contracts, that is, that he ought to perform

41 Plamenatz has argued that the line is properly drawn as between motives toward which one has a positive or neutral reaction and those by which one dislikes to be moved. See his Consent, Freedom, and Political Obligation (London : Oxford University Press, 1938), ch. 5. Courts of law regularly draw such distinctions in deciding, e.g., when a contract may be disregarded, as made under duress, and when a will should be set aside as drawn under improper influence.

H O B B E S ' S C O N F U S I N G 'CLARITY'-CASE O F 'L I BE RTY' 1 15

for his promise's sake.'42 The trouble is that he is constantly obscuring this assumption, indeed contradicting it, by saying that covenants without a sword are but words, that in the state of nature profit is the measure of right, and, not least, by asserting that the contracts by which sovereignty is established are based upon fear alone. To the modern reader, he would have been much more persuasive if he had sought to show that the whole process of forming civil society is a matter, almost, of pulling oneself up by his bootstraps . Just a little feeling that an agreement ought to be kept and that others will have this same feeling and modify their behaviour even a little bit in consequence, is enough to make possible the establishment of government with a modicum of authority. This first step itself increases the general security and so diminishes fear, thereby providing a necessary validating condition for moral obligation.43 With the ensuing greater obligation (and general recognition thereof) security is further increased, and so on in an ascending spiral.

But this account of the growing facts of political security and political obligation, mutually interacting and reinforcing, is a matter of degree, of more or less, and tends to be obscured by the black and white distinctions so dear to Hobbes. For him, an act is either voluntary or it is not, a man is either obliged or he is not, and he is either free or he is unfree. The whole contractual apparatus tends to be incompatible with a philosophy, more congenial to the modern mind, that makes both liberty and obligation matters of degree.

V. CoNcLusiON

Hobbes's political philosophy contains too many confusions and inconsistencies to be covered by any single explanation. Probably the nearest approach to such a single explanation,

•• E. W. II, p. 185, note. Also the passage concerning a promise to pay ransom in a state of nature, Lllv. p. 91.

<3 Note how Hobbes adopts the curious position of admitting, indeed proclaim­ing, that fear of death after the C()l)enant absolves one of any obligation not to resist the threatening person, yet fear of death before the covenant is an acceptable motive for the formation of a valid covenant. The contradiction is complete. Hobbes holds that a contract not to defend one's life is void because one could not make such a contract, 'for man by nature chooseth the lesser evil, which i s danger o f death in resisting. LIIv., pp. 91-92. At the same time h e holds that a man who makes a covenant to save his life is bound, because he was 'free' to do other­wise; although of course he could not help acting as he did! (Ibid.)

116 J . ROLAND PENN O C K

however, runs in terms o f his methodology, his addiction t o ali­or-nothing arguments, his unwillingness to qualify or to deal in matters of degree. Substantively, it has been my thesis here that an examination of Hobbes's concept of 'liberty' and related notions at least throws some fresh light on the tangled web of his system. Moreover, perhaps the most persistent and pervasive of Hobbes's confusions grow out of his belief in determinism-not out of determinism itself, but out of the way in which he inter­preted it and the conclusion he drew from it. Not only is this a matter closely related to the idea of liberty, but Hobbes's very definition of liberty, as consistent with fear, appears in his thought to have been a consequence of it. For if freedom was to be defined compatibly with determinism and at the same time as a 'dear and distinct idea' (to borrow Descartes's phrase), he saw no other way to do it than to make it turn on the distinction between voluntary and involuntary actions. He would have done better to have been content with making it a somewhat less 'clear and distinct' idea. The very trait that has given Hobbes his reputation for clarity, coherence, and logic has contributed mightily to his confusion and inconsistencies, and to the speciousness of his reasoning.

No belittlement of the importance of defining terms is intended. Hobbes's definition of liberty was a bad definition : it led him into inconsistency at certain points while at others it facilitated his misleading the reader. Why did he choose it ? Partly, it would appear, because it seemed to lend itself to clarity of demonstration. Unfortunately, Hobbes sought a degree of clarity and finality incompatible with his subject matter. A definition of liberty in terms of motives would have seemed to Hobbes unsatisfactory. Motives are usually mixed ; hence liberty becomes a matter of degree ; and likewise rights. But Hobbes would not have it so. It may be, to be sure, that it was not commitment to differences of kind rather than of degree that governed Hobbes's choice of a definition of liberty. We have seen that he also had ground for preferring this definition because it eased his task of persuading his readers to accept dubious conclusions. It would appear, in any case, that there was either madness in his method or method in his madness, or both.

6

L I B E R T Y A N D O B L I G A T I O N I N H O B B E S

A. G. Wernham

This article starts from the same point as Professor Pennock's (see Chapter 5, above), i .e. from Hobbes' inadequate 'official' definition of 'liberty'. But whereas Professor Pennock goes on to mount an attack on Hobbes, I proceed to distinguish various other senses of 'liberty' in Hobbes' writings and to relate them to the various senses in which he uses the word 'obligation'. Though I differ from Professor Pennock on some points of interpretation, I also differ from other scholars on others, and my article is as much a criticism of their work as it is of his. Explicit criticism, however, I have avoided, since my object is understanding rather than polemic : I merely suggest that Hobbes' views on liberty and obligation are best studied together. 'For where liberty ceaseth, there beginneth osligation (The Elements of Law I, 15, 9).

IN the first three paragraphs of Leviathan XIV, and again in the

first three paragraphs of Leviathan XXI, Hobbes defines the word 'liberty' in one way and then proceeds to use it in two other ways. To see that this is so let us examine these two passages, starting with Leviathan XXI.

'LIBERTY, or FREEDOM, signifieth, properly, the absence of opposition; by opposition, I mean external impediments of motion . . . .'

In other words, 'x is free' means 'there is no external impedi­ment to the motion of x'. But 'there is no external impediment to the motion of x' i s ambiguous, and may mean either i. 'there is nothing external to x which is hampering x, now moving, in its movement' (as a brake slows a rotating wheel), or ii. 'there is nothing external to x which would prevent x, if it were to move, from moving further' (as a brake would stop a wheel if it began to rotate), or iii. 'there is nothing external to x which is preventing x, now moving, from moving further' (as a brake stops a rotating

1 1 8 A . G . W E R N H A M

wheel). Hobbes does not distinguish these different senses, but his examples indicate the one he has in mind. The example of the men walking in the way without stop, or finding no stop in walk­ing in the way, suggests that we can eliminate both i and ii ; since it implies that an impediment is neither something which makes actual movement difficult, nor something which would put a stop to possible movement, but something which prevents actual movement from continuing. The example of the water in the vessel is no objection to this interpretation ; though the water may not seem to be moving, it is 'endeavouring' to escape from its container, and Hobbes defined 'endeavour' (conatus) as 'motion made in less space and time than can be given' (De Corpore Ill, 1 5, 2). Naturally the 'endeavour' of human beings also consisted of motions : 'These small beginnings of motion, within the body of man, before they appear in walking, speaking, striking, and other visible actions, are commonly called Endea­vour' (Leviathan VI).

'And according to this proper, and generally received meaning of the word, a FREE MAN, is he, that in those things, which by his strength and wit he is able to do, is not hindered to do what he has a will to.'

Here Hobbes is applying his general definition of 'freedom' to voluntary agents. But in E.W. V, p. 363 we find : 'of a voluntary agent, it is all one to say he is free, and to say he hath not mad� an end of deliberating'. Bramhall set this last account agatnst Hobbes' official definition of 'liberty' : 'He (Hobbes) defines a free agent to be "him who hath not made an end of deliberating" (No. XXVIII). And yet defines liberty to be "an absence of outward impediments". There may be outward impediments, even whilst he is deliberating. As a man deliberates whether he shall play at tennis : and at the same time the door of the tennis-court is fast locked against him. And after a man hath ceased to deliberate, there may be no outward impedi­ments : as when a man resolves not to play at tennis, because he finds himself ill-disposed, or because he will not hazard his money. So the same person, at the same time, should be free and not free, not free and free' (E.W. V, p. 346). In the first case the man is free in so far as he has not made an end of deliberating ; not free in so far as there is an external impedi­ment to his playing. In the second case the man is not free in so

L I B E R T Y AND O B L I G AT I O N I N H O B B E S 1 19

far as he has made an end of deliberating, but free in so far as there is no external impediment to his not playing. To which Hobbes answered : 'He (Bramhall) thinketh it a contradiction, to call a free agent him that hath not yet made an end of deliberating, and to call liberty an absence of outward impediments. "For," saith he, "there may be outward impediments, even while he is deliberating.'' Wherein he is deceived. For though he may deliberate of that which is impossible for him to do ; as in the example he allegeth of him that deliberateth whether he shall play at tennis, not knowing that the door of the tennis-court is shut against him; yet it is no impediment to him that the door is shut, till he have a will to play ; which he hath not till he hath done deliberating whether he shall play or not' (E. W. V, p. 352). And later, even more emphatically : 'there are no impediments but to the action, whilst we are endeavouring to do it, which is not till we have done deliberating' (E. W. V, pp. 366-7). Here Hobbes is arguing that since the man who is deliberating is not subject to external impediments the freedom involved in deliberation is absence of external impediments. His answer is based on his doctrine that impediment is by definition 'to motion' ; but it is not satisfactory. For suppose that the man wills to play tennis and the court is not locked. Then, in so far as he wills to play, he is no longer free to play or not play according as he shall will ; but he is still free in so far as he is not hindered to do what he has a will to. As I have implied, the way to avoid the contra­diction is to admit that there are two different kinds of freedom involved : the one a 'two-way' freedom (to do or forbear) which excludes will (volition) and is abolished by it, the other a 'one-way' freedom which presupposes will . In his reply to Bramhall Hobbes is unwilling to admit this, because to do so would be to admit the inadequacy of his official definition. But in fact he recognizes this 'two-way' freedom in his account of deliberation in Leviathan VI: 'And it is called deliberation; because it is a putting an end to the liberty we had of doing, or omitting, according to our own appetite, or aversion.'

'But when the words free, and liberty, are applied to any thing but bodies, they are abused ; for that which is not subject to motion, is not subject to impediment. And therefore, when it is said, for example, the way is free, no liberty of the way is signified, but of those that walk in it without stop. And when

120 A . G . W E R N HAM

we say a gi� is free, there is not meant any liberty of the gift, but of the g1ver, that was not bound by any law or covenant to give it. So when we speak freefy, it is not the liberty of voice or pronunciation, but of the man, whom no law hath obliged to speak otherwise than he did. Lastly, from the use of the word free-will, no liberty can be inferred of the wlll, desire, or inclination, but the liberty of the man ; which consisteth in this, that he finds no stop, in doing what he has the wlll, desire or inclination to do.' '

Hobbes' aim here is to show that 'free', though grammatically applied to accidents of bodies like walking, giving, etc., really applies to bodies only. A way of achieving this would be to take sentences where 'free' is grammatically applied to such accidents and to show by analysing them that in every case it really applies to the bodies themselves. Hobbes sets out to do so, and gives us analyses of various sentences ; the trouble is that in two of these analyses he introduces a new sense of 'free' which is not applicable to bodies. A brief look at his analyses will make this clear.

i. 'The way is free' = 'Men are free to walk the length of the way in that there is no external impediment which stops them from doing so'.

ii. 'The gift is free' = 'The giver was free to give the gift in that he was not bound by any law or covenant to give it'.

iii. 'We enjoy free speech' are free to speak as we do in that we are not obliged by any law to speak otherwise' . 1

iv. 'Men have free-will' = 'Men are free in that there is no external impediment which stops them from doing what they will'. In i and iv 'freedom' means 'absence of external impediments' and belongs to men qua bodies. But in ii and iii 'freedom' means 'absence of obligation', and by introducing freedom in this sense Hobbes destroys his own argument, for freedom in this sense does not belong to men qua bodies. It makes sense to say that human bodies are hindered or not hindered by external impediments : it makes no sense to say that they are obliged or not obliged by law or covenant.

Although ii and iii are both examples of freedom from obliga­tion, there appears to be a difference between them. In ii the agent is free to do x in that he is not obliged to do x, whereas in iii the agent is free to do y in that he is not obliged to omit y. But it is

• 1T.he sens: of 'free speech' in which a gagged man does not enjoy free speech

1 s obvtously different.

L I BE R T Y AND O B L I GA T I ON I N H O B BE S 121

also the case that in ii the agent is not obliged to omit x, and in iii that he is not obliged to do y; for an agent is not free in this sense to make a gift if he is obliged to omit making it, nor is an agent free in this sense to say something if he is obliged to say it. Thus freedom in this new sense (absence of obligation) is also a 'two­way' freedom, a freedom to do or forbear. In contrast, absence of external impediments is a •one-way' freedom, since it presupposes that the agent has willed to do, not to forbear.

'Fear and liberty are consistent; as when a man throweth his goods into the sea for fear the ship should sink, he doth it nevertheless very willingly, and may refuse to do it if he will : it is therefore the action of one that was free : so a man some­times pays his debt, only for fear of imprisonment, which because nobody hindered him from detaining, was the action of a man at liberty. And generally all actions which men do in commonwealths, for fear of the law, are actions, which the doers had liberty to omit.'

It is possible for there to be no external impediment which prevents a man from doing what he is moved by fear to do. It is also possible that a man should not be obliged by law or covenant either to do or to forbear from doing what he is moved by fear to do. But these are not the reasons Hobbes gives for saying that fear and liberty are consistent. Since the reasons he gives are prima facie different in his two examples I shall consider these examples in turn.

i. The man who jettisons his cargo out of fear does so freely in that he does so willingly, and may refuse to do so if he wills. Here the claim that he may refuse to do so if he wills is literally absurd, and for a reason given by Hobbes himself in E. W. V, p. 367 : 'How can a man have liberty to do or not to do that which is at the same instant already done ?' The Latin text however provides a more logical reading : 'potuitque, si nol�isset, no� facere,' i.e. 'he was in a position to refrain if he had willed to refrain'. That this is Hobbes' real meaning is shown by his conclusion : 'it is therefore the action of one that was free' (my italics).

ii. The man who pays his debt from fear of imprisonment does so freely in that nobody hindered him from keeping the money. In i there was no reference to absence of external impedi­ments ; here there is. But this difference is only superficial, for if

1 22 A . G . W E R N H A M

there was n o external impediment t o the agent's refraining from paying the money, then he could have refrained from paying if he had willed to refrain. Now in the nature of the case there can be no external impediment to refraining from doing an action ; an agent can always refrain if he wills.2 But it is not always true that he can do the action if he wills, for it is always possible that his motion will be stopped by an external impediment. In neither of Hobbes' examples did this happen, so in both cases it was true that while the agent was deliberating he could do or forbear to do the action according as he should will. And when Hobbes discusses ii in the Latin version he makes this plain : 'libere solvit quia liberum illi erat vel solvere vel non solvere', i.e. 'he pays it freely in that it was open to him either to pay it or not to pay it'. Hobbes does not say, as he would have said had he been concerned merely with freedom qua absence of external impediments, that he paid it freely in that he encountered no external impediment while paying it : on the contrary, what he stresses in both examples is that the agent had liberty to refrain from doing the act in question, the fact that he did it being proof that he also had liberty to do it. And thus we come round again to the freedom which is pre­supposed in deliberation. This of course is connected with free­dom qua absence of external impediments in that it belongs to an agent only if the prediction that there will be no external impedi­ment to his doing the action is correct ; but it differs from freedom qua absence of external impediments in being (a) prospective (it is the sort of freedom Hobbes has in mind when he claims in E. W. V, p. 367 that 'liberty respecteth future acts only', a claim which cannot be made for liberty qua absence of external impedi­ments), and (b) 'two-way', i.e. to do or forbear. It also differs from freedom qua absence of obligation, since it concerns what the agent can do, whereas freedom qua absence of obligation concerns what he n;try do, i.e. what it is permissible for him to do. This difference is implicit in the last sentence of the paragraph, which cannot mean that subjects who perform actions from fear of the law had no obligation to perform these actions ; but must mean that before they willed to do these actions they were in a position either to do them or not to do them according as they should wilL

2 An agent who is carried to jail against his will refrains from going to jail: see below.

L I B E R T Y A N D O B L I G A T I O N I N H O B B E S 123

It is impossible for an agent who is motivated by fear to be free in this sense at the same time, since if he wills to do x through fear he has already abandoned his liberty to do or omit x according as he shall will. What Hobbes shows is that an action can be at once free and motivated by fear : free in so far as the agent had liberty to omit it, i.e. could have omitted it if he had willed to omit it ; and motivated by fear in so far as his will to do it was created3 by fear. Here the Latin text is rightly more cautious than the English: 'Mettts et libertas simul consistere in eadem actione possunt', i.e. 'Fear and liberty can stand together in the same action'.

In this paragraph Hobbes is discussing compulsion, as he understands compulsion : 'a man is then only said to be compelled, when fear makes him willing to it' (E. W. V, p. 248). He who is physically forced is not 'compelled' in Hobbes' sense of the word; if, for example, he is hustled off to jail in a Black Maria, he is not compelled to go to jail-he does not go to jail but is carded there (cp. E.W. V, pp. 261-2). It is worth noting that Hobbes recog­nizes absence of compulsion as a kind of liberty. Freedom from compulsion really covers two different cases : i. that of the agent who has not made an end of deliberating, who can still do or forbear according as he shall will ; and ii. that of the agent who has willed and whose will has been created by some passion other than fear. But Hobbes speaks of freedom from compulsion only in the second case : 'to be free from compulsion, is to do a thing so as terror be not the cause of his will to do it' (E. W. V, p. 248).

This examination of the first three paragraphs of Leviathan XXI has brought to light three different senses of freedom in Hobbes : and to these I have added another from E. W. V. To sum up my discussion so far I shall now illustrate these four senses, and show which are compatible with which. Consider then a man deliberating whether to play tennis, and suppose that he is correct in his assumption that there will be no external impediment to his playing if he wills to play.

1 . As long as he is deliberating he is free in that he can play or not play according as he shall wilL This kind of freedom might be called freedom of choice.

a Cp. E.W. V, p. 260: 'That which I call necessitation,. is the effe�ting and creating of that will which was not before, not .a c?mpelhng of a

. wdl :Uready

existent. The necessitation or creation of the w1ll, 1s the same thing w1th t�e compulsion of the man, saving that we commonly use the word compulston 1!1 those aetions which proceed from terror.'

124 A . G . WERN H A M

2 . Suppose that he i s not obliged either to play or not to play ; that, for example, he has not made a covenant to do either. If so, it is permissible for him to play or not play according as he shall will. This I have called freedom from obligation.

3. As a result of deliberation he wills to play, and this simply from a desire to enjoy himself: we can now say that he is free from compulsion.

4. Finally, in going to play he meets with no obstacle; now he is free in the sense that there is no external impediment to his motion.

Clearly an agent cannot be free in all four senses at the same time. If he is free in senses 1 and 2 he cannot be free in senses 3 and 4, since it is only before he has willed that he can be free in senses 1 and 2, and only after he has willed that he can be free in senses 3 and 4. But he can be free in senses 1 and 2 at the same time, and free in senses 3 and 4 at the same time. On the other hand he can be free in sense 3 without being free in sense 4, and free in sense 4 without being free in sense 3. Furthermore, he can be free in sense 1 without being free in sense 2 ; but he cannot be free in sense 2 without being free in sense 1 . The reason for this is that freedom in sense 1 is a necessary condition of freedom in sense 2.

Before proceeding to the first three paragraphs of Leviathan XIV, which are concerned not only with freedom but also with obligation, I want to make some preliminary remarks about natural right, natural law, and the state of nature. No man, according to Hobbes, can be obliged by a law of which he is ignorant (De Cive III, 26). He also says in Leviathan XXVII that 'Ignorance of the law of nature excuseth no man; because every man that hath attained to the use of reason, is supposed to know, he ought not to do to another, what he would not have done to himself'. Nevertheless it is possible to conceive men as ignorant of natural law, and Hobbes sometimes does so. Thus in Leviathan XIII his account of the state of nature 1s an 'inference made from the passions' and it is only at the end of the chapter that 'reason suggesteth convenient articles of peace' (the laws of nature). Similarly at the start of Leviathan XXXI he calls the state of nature a condition of 'absolute liberty' (a condition where everything is permissible), and calls the laws of nature 'the precepts by which men are guided to avoid that condition' ; as

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if grasp of the laws of nature modified an original condition of absolute liberty and war. He speaks of absolute liberty again in De Cive XIV, 3 : 'Now right is natural liberry, a liberty not con­stituted but left by the laws. For if the laws are removed liberty is absolute ; the first restriction on it is the natural and divine law . . . ' On the other hand passages can be quoted to show that Hobbes often conceives the state of nature as a condition where man's liberty is restricted by natural law. Hence the controversy as to whether Hobbes' state of nature is a condition of absolute liberty or not. But this is a pointless and unprofitable contro­versy : the fact is that Hobbes has two different conceptions the state of nature which he uses for different purposes. When he is explaining the origin of man's grasp of the laws of nature, the genesis of his conscience, he starts by conceiving men as if they were children ; they are entirely governed by present passions and appetites, and because they have no reason to command or forbid them, their liberty is absolute. But when his purpose is merely to describe the condition of men who are not subject to government, he assumes that they have obligations under the law of nature and therefore a restricted liberty only. It is true that he sometimes confuses these two concepts. For example, in Leviathan XIV he argues from his definition of the right of nature that the right of nature is a right to all things, which reason bids men abandon in the interests of peace and security ; and here the argument is incoherent because his definition of natural right will not justify an account of the state of nature as a condition of absolute liberty, and yet it must be a condition of absolute liberty if it is to serve as the starting-point for his account of the origin of the obligation involved in natural law. De Cive III, 31 is much more satisfactory : 'In consequence men are in a state of war as long as their present appetites are their criteria of good and evil, and the diversity of these appetites causes them to judge good and evil by different criteria. While men are in this state they all readily acknowledge that it is evil, and therefore that peace is good. And so, though they could not agree about present good, they do agree about future good. Tills, however, is the work of reason; for while things present are grasped by the senses, things future are grasped only by reason. Since reason teaches that peace is good, the same :reason also teaches that all the means necessary to peace are good.' Here the introduction of reason transforms a state of nature in

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which men have no obligations, and therefore an unrestricted natural right, into a state of nature in which men have obligations, and therefore only a restricted natural right. This preamble may help to explain why in discussing the first three paragraphs of Leviathan XIV I take one view of the right of nature, and then later, in dealing with the origin of the obligation involved in natural law, I take the other.

'THE RIGHT OF NATURE, which writers commonly call jus naturale, is the liberty each man hath, 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 consequently, of doing any thing, which in his own j udgment, and reason, he shall conceive to be the aptest means thereunto.'

The tense 'shall conceive', and the statement below in the third paragraph that 'right consisteth in liberty to do or to forbear', combine to show that we are here concerned with the liberty of the agent 'who hath not yet made an end of deliberating', his liberty to do or forbear according as he shall will. But when the agent's aim is his own preservation and he is deliberating whether doing or not doing x will best achieve that aim, then he has not only liberty but a natural right to do either: in other words, not only can he do either according as he shall will (sense 1 ), but it is permissible for him to do either according as he shall will (sense 2). The justification for this view is set out in The Elements of Law I, 14, 6-8 (cp. De Civc I, 7-9) . There Hobbes argues that since man by nature tries to preserve himself it is not against reason for him to do so: 'and that which is not against reason, men call Right, or ius, or blameless liberty of using our own natural power and ability. It is therefore a right of nature : that every man may preserve his own life and limbs, with all the power he hath.' Hobbes then goes on to claim that man's natural right to self­preservation involves a right to take whatever means he judges necessary for his own preservation ; which implies that he has a natural right to do or forbear x according as he shall judge necessary for his own preservation.

'By LIBERTY, is understood, according to the proper signi­fication of the word, the absence of external impediments : which impediments, may oft take away part of a man's power to do what he would; but cannot hinder him from using the power left him, according as his judgment, and reason shall dictate to him.'

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This paragraph is illustrated by E. W. V, p . 272 : 'he that is led to prison by force, hath election, and may deliberate, whether he will be haled and trained on the ground, or make use of his feet'. 4 Here the guards are external impediments and take away part of the man's power to do what he will (they prevent him from running away), but do not (though they could) prevent him from walking to prison if he wills to do so. He can walk or not walk 'according as his judgment and reason shall dictate to him' ; and if his aim is his own preservation it is also permissible for him to do either.

In this paragraph Hobbes' official definition of liberty (sense 4) is simply an embarrassment to him, and he immediately slides away to senses 1 and 2. External impediments, when regarded as insurmountable, restrict the agent's field of choice by excluding certain actions from deliberation, for he does not deliberate about things he knows or thinks to be impossible (Leviathan VI) ; but they leave intact his freedom to do or forbear such actions as remain in his power.

'A LAW OF NATURE, lex natura/is, i s a precept or general rule, found out by reason, by which a man is forbidden to do that, which is destructive of his life, or taketh away the means of preserving the same; and to omit that, by which he thinketh it may be best preserved. For though they that speak of this subject, use to confound jus, and lex, right and law : yet they ought to be distinguished ; because RIGHT, consisteth in liberty to do, or to forbear :s whereas LAw, determineth, and bindeth to one of them: so that law, and right, differ as much, as obligation, and liberty; which in one and the same matter are inconsistent.'

Natural law, like natural right, is concerned with actions as means to or ways of preserving oneself. But a natural law is a general rule ; that is, it is concerned with a type of action, and' prescribes or forbids particular actions only in so far as they are actions of

' Cp. The Elements of Law I, 12, 3 : 'when a man is carried to prison he is pulled on against his will, and yet goeth upright voluntary, for fear of being trailed along the ground: insomuch that in going to prison, going [i.e. walking] is voluntary; to the prison, involuntary'.

s Since the comma between 'do' and 'or' may mislead the modern reader I add the Latin text: 'Consistit enim jus in faciendi vel non faciendi libertate; sed lex ad faci endum obligat vel ad non faciendum.' The same intrusive comma is found in the passage about deliberation in Leviathan VI (quoted on p. 119), and in The Elements of Law I, 15, 9 (quoted on p. 1 33). Here Hobbes is saying that a right to do x is incompatible with a duty to do x because a right to do x implies a right to forbear x.

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that type. Moreover, whereas natural right is an agent's freedom to do or forbear according as he shall think necessary for his own preservation, natural law forbids him 'to do that which is destruc­tive of his life', as well as 'to omit that by which he thinketh it may be best preserved'. This suggests that while an action which is not necessary to preserve an agent's life is still done by natural right provided that he thinks it to be necessary, a type of action is forbidden by natural law only if what the agent thinks destruc­tive of his life is also in fact destructive of it. A comparison of two passages from De Cive confirms this. The first is from the footnote to De Cive I, 1 0, and may be rendered as follows : 'Everyone has a right to preserve himself (by Section 7). He therefore has a right to use every means necessary to this end (by Section 8). But the means necessary are those which he him­self shall judge to be so (by Section 9). He therefore has a right to do and take everything which he himself shall judge necessary for his own preservation. In consequence it depends on the agent's own judgment whether what is done is done with right rjure) or not : and therefore it is done with right.' In drawing this final conclusion Hobbes is of course assuming that the agent judges his action necessary for his own preservation, and he mmediately goes on to make this dear : 'But if a man claims that his own preservation requires something which is not thought even by himself to be necessary, he may violate the laws of nature.' This passage shows that it is not the correctness but the rincerity of the agent's judgment that x is necessary for his preserv­ation which determines whether he does x by natural right. On the other hand, in De Cive II, 1, Hobbes defines a law of nature as 'a dictate of right reason concerning what must be done or omitted to make preservation of life and limb as lasting as possible', pointing out in the footnote that by 'right reason' he means the agent's own true reasoning, and adding that 'all violation of the laws of nature consists in the false reasoning, or, if you like, the folly of men who do not see that their duties to other men are necessary for their own preservation'. Since this last remark concerns violation of the laws of nature, it does not refer to those who have never seen the connection between their treatment of others and their treatment by others (for such men have no duties, the law of nature being no law to them) ; but rather to those who know the law of nature but are often caused by their

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passions to forget it. Compare Leviathan XXVII : 'Ambition, and covetousness are passions also that are perpetually incumbent, and pressing ; whereas :reason is not perpetually present, to resist them: and therefore whensoever the hope of impunity appears, their effects proceed.'

I shall now illustrate Hobbes' view by some examples. In the state of nature one man (A), prompted by anger alone to attack and kill another (B), is deliberating whether to do so or not. In this case, though the heat of his passion may prevent him from seeing it, A has an obligation under natural law not to do so : though he can attack or not attack according as he shall will (freedom sense 1 ), it is not permissible for him to attack or not attack according as he shall will (freedom sense 2). Suppose, however, that despite his anger A does realise that he has an obligation not to attack B, indeed that he has an obligation to try to make peace with B : that he does try to make peace : and that B takes advantage of this to attack and kill him. Will Hobbes now say that A didn't really have an obligation to seek peace, but :really had a natural right to attack B ? The answer is no. 'It is certain that men are obliged to the observation of all positive precepts, though with the loss of their lives, unless the right that a man hath to preserve himself make it, in the case of a just fear, to be no law' (E.W. V, p. 291). Consider now a case where X, believing that Y i s planning to attack and kill him, i s prompted by fear for his own life to attack Y first, and i s deliberating whether to do so or not. Under these circumstances X will inevitably do whichever he shall judge necessary for his own preservation, and reason cannot forbid this. X has therefore a natural right to attack or refrain from attacking according as he shall judge necessary for his preservation. This means that he has a natural right to attack if he shall judge attacking necessary, and a natural right to :refrain from attacking if he shall j udge it necessary to :refrain; in other words the one 'two-way' freedom can be expressed as a combination of two 'one-way' freedoms. What happens if X judges that it is necessary for his preservation to attack Y ? One wants to say that he now has a natural right to attack which excludes a natural :right to refrain from attacking, since the judgment that attack is necessary for his preservation excludes the judgment that refraining from attack is necessary. B1.1t to speak of a natural :right to do x which excludes the natural

K

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right to forbear x conflicts with Hobbes' statement that 'right consisteth in liberty to do or to forbear' : and in fact it is doubtful whether such a natural right can be identified with liberty of any kind. For the judgment that x is necessary for preservation, if not the same as the will to do x, is at any rate its immediate antecedent, and the will to do x, being in this case created by fear, is incompatible with liberty not only in senses 1 and 2 but also in sense 3 ; and liberty in sense 4 seems irrelevant. Thus when Hobbes says that an agent did x by natural right we must take him to mean that it was permissible for that agent to do x or forbear x according as he should think necessary for his preserva­tion, and that he thought it necessary for his preservation to do x. This account will keep our analysis of 'he did x by natural right' parallel to the analysis we gave above of 'he did x freely', viz. 'it was open to him to do x or forbear x according as he should will, and he willed to do x'.

Let us now turn to Hobbes' account of obligation. Dealing in De Cive XV, 7 with the obligation to obey God he writes as follows :

'Now if God have the right of sovereignty from his power, it is manifest that the obligation of yielding him obedi­ence lies on men by reason of their weakness. For that obligation which rises from contract, of which we have spoken in chap. II, can have no place here ; where the right of ruling, no covenant passing between, rises only from nature. But there are two species of natural obligation. One, when liberty is taken away by corporal impediments, according to which we say that heaven and earth, and all creatures, do obey the common laws of their creation. The other, when it is taken away by hope or fear, according to which the weaker, despairing of his own power to resist, cannot but yield to the stronger. From this last kind of obligation, that is to say, from fear or con­science of our own weakness in respect of the divine power, it comes to pass that we are obliged to obey God in his natural kingdom.'

There is an inconsistency in this passage as it stands : the second kind of natural obligation, originally said to be based on either hope or fear, is finally based on fear alone. This inconsistency is created by a textual error; the Latin text has 'spe et metu', i.e. 'hope and fear'. Given that the Latin text is correct, the passage can be explained by reference to De Homine XII, 3, where Hobbes

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says that although there is hardly any time so short as not to contain an alternation of hope and fear, the whole 'perturbation' takes its name from the preponderant factor. Since in the present case the preponderant factor is fear Hobbes later speaks of fear alone.

This passage yields three kinds of obligation, two natural and one artificial, i.e. based on contract. Let us consider each in turn, beginning with the natural.

1 . 'A is obliged to stay within limit x' ='There is something external to A which is preventing A, now moving, from moving beyond limit x'. This sort of obligation is the opposite of freedom in sense 4, and may be defined as the presence of external impedi­ments to motion. It is mentioned occasionally in Hobbes' political works but plays little part in them, and is usually intro­duced to point a contrast with other kinds of obligation (as in De Cive VIII, 4). The reason is that for the most part the subjects of a state are not obliged by their sovereign in this sense. A few of them he keeps locked up in jail, and he uses walls and guards to keep the rest out of certain areas, but in general he places few obstacles in the way of their movement. As Hobbes says, they have 'corporal liberty'.

It is worth noting that the word 'obliged' is still used in this sense : e.g. 'Since the door of my house was locked, and I had mislaid my key, I was obliged to stay outside until my wife came back from shopping'. But it is no longer possible to substitute 'I had an obligation' for 'I was obliged' in such sentences without destroying the sense.

2. 'A is obliged to do x' ='A wills to do x and his will to do x has been created by fear'. 'Obligation' in this sense is 'com­pulsion' in Hobbes' sense, and is the opposite of freedom in sense 3. Most subjects of a state are obliged in this sense : 'Of all passions, that which inclineth men least to break the laws, is fear. Nay, excepting some generous natures, it is the only thing, when there is apparence of profit or pleasure by breaking the laws, that makes men keep them' (Leviathan XXVII).

The word 'obliged' is still used in this sense also : e.g. 'I was obliged to hand over the money since he threatened to shoot me if l didn't'. But here again it is impossible to substitute 'I had an obligation' for 'I was obliged' without making nonsense of the sentence ; for 'I had an obligation' is no longer applied to this

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sort of situation. Yet in 1 832 John Austin could still explain the meaning of 'duty' thus : 'Being liable to evil from you if I comply not with a wish which you signify, I am bottnd or obliged by your command, or I lie under a duty to obey it.' Nor did he scruple to add that 'the greater the eventual evil, and the greater the chance of incurring it, the greater is the efficacy of the command, and the greater is the strength of the obligation' (The Province of Jurisprudence Determined, Lecture 1). And it does seem para­doxical to say 'I was obliged but I had no obligation', and even more paradoxical to say 'I was obliged but there was no obliga­tion'. This appearance of paradox tempts people to accept the sort of view which Rousseau rightly attacks in Social Contract I, 3 (The Right of the Strongest).

So much for the two types of natural obligation. We now come to obligation based on contract, and in this sense,

3. 'A is obliged to do x'='A has given up his right to refrain from doing x', and vice versa, 'A is obliged to refrain from doing x'='A has given up his right to do x'. This sense is found in a well-known passage in Leviathan XIV: 'And when a man hath in either manner abandoned, or granted away his right; then he is said to be OBLIGED, or BOUND, not to hinder those, to whom such right is granted, or abandoned, from the benefit of it : and that he ought, and it is his DUTY, not to make void that voluntary act of his own: and that such hindrance is INJUSTICE and INJURY, as being sine jure; the right being before renounced, or transferred.' What then is it for a man to give up his right? It is 'by a suitable sign or suitable signs to declare that he wills that it shall no longer be permissible (licitum) for him to do some­thing which previously he could have done with right' (De Cive II, 4). When a man simply renounces his right he gives it up in favour of anyone who can benefit by it. In contrast, when he transfers it to another he gives it up in favour of that person only, and this requires a 'sufficient signification' of the other's will to accept it. Hobbes provides an example to show what is involved in a transfer: 'when a man giveth his land or goods to another, he taketh from himself the right to enter into, and make use of the said land or goods, or otherwise to hinder him of the use of what he hath given' (The Elements of Law I, 15, 3). It remains to say what shall be counted as a sufficient sign of an agent's will that it shall not be permissible for him to do something, and shall

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thus constitute a giving up of his .right to do it. Here Hobbes devotes most of his attention to verbal formulae. 'If the words be of the time present, or past, as, I have given, or, do give to be delivered to-morrow, then is my to-morrow's right given away to�day ; and that by the virtue of the words, though there were no other argument of my will' (Leviathan XIV). But words de futuro (promises), e.g. 'To-morrow I will give', transfer my right today only in certain circumstances. 'For he that promiseth to give, without any other consideration but his own affection, so long as he hath not given, deliberateth still, according as the causes of his affections continue or diminish ; and he that deliber­ateth hath not yet willed, because the will is the last act of his deliberation' (The Elements of Law I, 15, 7). 'However . . . . . . words of the future, when combined with other signs of will, can have the same force as if they had been spoken of the present' (De Cive II, 7), i.e. they can constitute a present transfer of right. They do so, for example, when the salesman says 'We will deliver the carpet tomorrow' to the customer who is paying for it in cash. Here payment by the customer shows that he understands the salesman to mean 'I give you now the right that we should deliver the carpet tomorrow', and the fact that the salesman is content to be so understood shows that this is what he does mean. (In Leviathan XIV Hobbes says that signs of contract are some­times inferences from silence, and sometimes even inferences from the omission of actions.) 'Promises therefore, upon consideration of reciprocal benefit, are covenants and signs of the will, or last act of deliberation, whereby the liberty of performing, or not performing, is taken away, ana consequently are obliga­tory' (The Elements of Law I, 1 5, 9). (In the parallel passage in De Cive II, 10, Hobbes says only that 'the liberty of not performing is taken away', but this change is of little significance.) Words of the future sometimes transfer a right in the present even in cases of free-gift : as Hobbes says in Leviathan XIV, 'if a man propound a prize to him that comes first to the end of a race, the gift is free ; and though the words be of the future, yet the right passeth : for if he would not have his words so be understood, he should not have let them run' ('illos ad certamen non invitasset'). Here the words 'I will give this prize to the winner' are an invitation to compete : and this they cannot be unless they are equivalent to 'I do (now) give this prize to the (future) winner'.

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Hobbes' doctrine then i s that i f promises d o not transfer a right when uttered they transfer nothing. It is true that in The Elements of Law I, 15, 9 we find: 'And this, though it be a promise, and of the time to come, yet doth it transfer the right, when that time cometh, no less than an actual donation.' But this is an isolated passage; besides, it conflicts with the conclusion of the same paragraph by making it impossible for a man to be obliged today by his promise to do something tomorrow.

Clearly, to say that A is obliged to do x in this sense is to deny that it is permissible for· him to do or forbear to do x according as he shall will, i.e. that he has freedom in sense 2. But it is not to deny that he can do or forbear to do x according as he shall will, that he has freedom in sense 1 , for men can break binding covenants. Yet it may seem odd to say that A, who has made a binding covenant to do x, can still do or forbear to do x according as he shall will ; because tG> say that he can do or forbear to do x according as he shall will presupposes that he has not willed to do x, while the fact that he has made a binding covenant to do x may be thought to presuppose that he has. At least Hobbes thought so in De Cive III, 3 : 'For by contracting for some future action, he wills it done; by not doing it, he wills it not done : which is to will a thing done and not done at the same time, which is a contradiction.' But the first premise of this argu­ment is false. Certainly the 'contradiction' argument, which is stated more fully in The Elements of Law I, 1 6, 2, has some plausi­bility in The Elements of Law, where Hobbes says that for a man to give up a right is 'by sufficient signs to declare, that it is his will no more to do that action, which of right he might have done before' (The Elements of Law I, 15, 3). But it has no plausibility in De Cive, for there, as we have seen, Hobbes takes a different view of what it is to give up a right. According to the doctrine of De Cive the man who makes a binding covenant to do x wills that it shall not be permissible for him to forbear doing x; and this is not the same as willing to do x.

From De Cive XV, 7 we have elicited three senses of the word 'obliged', and we must now consider in which of these senses Hobbes thinks that men are obliged by the law of nature. Clearly we can rule out sense 1 right away, since it is only as bodies and not as rational agents that men are obliged in sense 1 . In con­sidering the claims of senses 2 and 3 I shall adopt the viewpoint

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which, as we saw above, Hobbes himself found convenient in discussing the obligation involved in the law of nature, and treat the state of nature as a condition of 'absolute liberty'.

We start then with a man in the state of nature who has literally a right to do everything : to whom it is permissible to do anything he shall will to do. As soon as he has sufficient reason to reflect on his condition he wills to seek peace through fear for his own safety, i.e. he is compelled or obliged (sense 2) to seek peace. Now the way to seek peace is to give up his right to all things, and the way to give up his right to all things is to will that it shall no longer be permissible for him to do actions of certain types. Suppose that he is rational enough to see this, and that he there­fore wills that it shall no longer be permissible for him to do actions of a certain type. In other words, he wills to make it unlawful for himself to do such actions ; and his will to do this is created by fear for his own safety. This means that he is obliged (sense 2) to make it unlawful for himself to do actions of that type. If we now identify making it unlawful for himself to do actions of a certain type with adopting the law of nature which forbids such actions, we can say that this law of nature obliges him in the sense that fear makes him will to adopt it (sense 2). But in willing to adopt it, in willing to make it unlawful for himself to do actions of that type, in willing that it shall not be permissible for him to do them, he gives up his right to do them ; so that this law of nature henceforth obliges him in sense 3 to refrain from such actions. Suppose, for example, he has willed that it shall not be permissible for him to harm benefactors : then, although in certain circumstances his right to self-preservation (which he can never renounce) may give him the right to do something which is incidentally harmful to a benefactor, he has no right to harm benefactors as such. If he now harms a benefactor merely through greed for petty gain, he does an action of a type which he has made unlawful for himself by his own will, i.e. for which his own conscience condemns him. I conclude that the laws of nature oblige in the sense that fear makes men will to adopt them (sense 2) ; but also in the sense that in willing to adopt them they have given up their right to do actions of certain types (sense 3). Obligation in sense 3 is saved from impotence by being combined with obligation in sense 2; on the other hand obligation in sense 2 need not extend to the doing of

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particular actions, so that it i s possible for a man to be obliged by a law of nature to do an action which he has not yet willed to do, and may never in fact will to do.

It may be objected that this account of the obligation involved in the law of nature is too voluntaristic and subjective to do justice to Hobbes' view. The short answer is that when Bramhall attacked Hobbes' assertion that 'every man makes by his consent the law which he is bound to keep' by denying that this was ttue of the law of nature (E. W. V, p. 158), Hobbes replied that it was absurd to say that the law of nature was a law without our assent ; 'for the law of nature is the assent itself that all men give to the means of their own preservation' (op. cit., p. 180). But it must also be said that not all the rules of conduct which a man may adopt as necessary for his own preservation are regarded by Hobbes as laws of nature, but only those rules which are in fact necessary (for a law of nature is a dictate of right reason), and which all men are presumed to adopt when they attain to the use of reason (Leviathan XXVII). But what of Hobbes' statement that the law of nature is 'the eternal law of God' (Leviathan XXVI) ? The law of nature is eternal (and immutable) in that observance of it is, has been, and always will be the means to peace and hence to lasting preservation. It is God's law in that 'reason, which is the law of nature, has been given directly by God to each man as the rule of his actions' (De Cive IV, 1). Those who transgress this law by resorting to the sword usually perish by the sword in the end, and Hobbes calls this natural consequence of aggression God's natural punishment of it ( cp. Leviathan XXXI ad ftnem, where the Latin version has 'vim inferentes punit vis aliena'). God then is the author of the law of nature in this sense : that by determining the nature of man he has also deter­mined certain conditions which are necessary to men's living together in peace and lasting security, and by giving man reason he has enabled him to discover these conditions and make them into rules for his conduct.

In discussing the obligation involved in the law of nature we have been discussing Hobbes' account of moral obligation. I want, finally, to consider his view of political obligation, i.e. the obligation of the subjects to obey the sovereign. This is ultim­ately the moral obligation of the subjects to keep their covenants of obedience to the sovereign : but most of them are also obliged

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to obey by fear of the penalties which the sovereign prescribes for violation of his laws. Thus Hobbes writes in De Cive XIV, 2 : 'By covenant we are obliged : b y law we are held t o our obligation. A covenant obliges of itself: a law holds us to our obligation by virtue of the comprehensive covenant to obey'. (By 'comprehensive covenant' -the Latin is 'pacti universalis' -he means the covenant to obey whatever laws the sovereign shall enact : cp. De Cive XIV, 10). And in a footnote to this passage he adds : 'It has seemed to some that to be obliged and to be held to an obligation are the same thing, and thus that there is some distinction in words but none in fact. So for greater clarity I put it thus. By a covenant a man is obliged, that is, he owes6 performance because of his promise : but by a law he is held to his obligation, that is, he is compelled to perform by fear of the punishment established in the law'. Here Hobbes has discovered in tenere a word to dis­tinguish obligation in sense 2 from obligation in sense 3. But there is a gap between the text and the footnote. The text says that a man is held by virtue of the comprehensive covenant to obey, the footnote that he is held by fear of the punishment established in the law. A similar gap appears in De Cive V, 8 : 'He who submits his will to the will of another transfers to that other the 1·ight to use his strength and faculties : so that when the rest have done the same the person to whom submission is made has power so great that by the fear of it he can frame the wills of individuals to unity and concord'. But how does Hobbes get from the covenant to the power which makes the subjects fear the penalties established by the sovereign in his laws ? The problem does not arise in the case of a commonwealth by acquisition, because there ex l[ypothesi the sovereign has power already : 'A COMMOl\."'WEALTH lry acqttisition, is that, where the sovereign power is acquired by force ; and it is acquired by force, when men singly, or many together by plurality of voices, for fear of death, or bonds, do authorize all the actions of that man, or assembly, that hath their lives and liberty in his power' (Leviathan XX). But in the case of a commonwealth by institution the covenant has to give power as well as right to the sovereign, and the difficulty lies in seeing how it does so. The usual answer is the obvious one, namely that the sovereign acquires his power by the subjects fulfilling their covenants. The objection to this

6 Compare Hobbes' discussion of 'merit' and 'due' in Leviatban XIV.

138 A . G . WERNHAM

answer is that 'covenants without the sword are but words' (Leviathan XVII) ; that if the sovereign's power is the consequence of covenant-fulfilment it cannot also be the cause thereof; and that we need something to cotnpel the subjects-on whose con­scientiousness Hobbes places so little reliance-to fulfil their covenants.

This something is provided by the nature of the covenant which creates Hobbes' commonwealth by institution, .A says to B, C, D etc. 'I undertake to give X the use of my power when he requires it'. B says the same to A, C, D etc., and so they proceed, each covenanting with each of the others to give X the use of his power. The process being complete, and the gathering dissolved, suppose that X commands A to join the army which he proposes to form. Now even if A is so lacking in conscience that he regards his covenant as words, and so unenlightened that he fails to see that it is in his long-term interest to support X, there is still something left to hoid him to his obligation : and that is his belief that X has the support ofB, C, D etc. and can thus command sufficient power to compel him to obey. In virtue of the covenant each subject sees the others ranged behind the sovereign against him. In other words, the covenant gives X 'reputation of power' ; and 'reputation of power is power' (Leviathan X). In modern terminology A's belief that X has power over him is a 'self­certifying belief'. Hobbes gives an example of such a belief in Leviathan XXXI : 'The end of worship amongst men, is power. For where a man seeth another worshipped, he supposeth him powerful, and is the readier to obey him ; which makes his power greater.' Now A does not see the rest worshipping X, but he has heard them declare their will to give X the use of their power, and he must therefore assume that they will do as they say until he has evidence to the contrary. And sufficient evidence to encourage him to disobey will be difficult to get, since the subjects apart from the sovereign are a disunited multitude. This then is why A believes that X has power over him; and since A believes that X has power over him, X has power over him. In this case thinking that the thing is so makes it so. If the covenants are to be effective in giving power to X they must of course be public ; for if each man makes a secret covenant to X to support him, such covenants will in themselves give X no power since they will give him no reputation of power. This does not matter

I '

L I B E R T Y A N D O B L I G A T I O N I N H O B B E S 139 if X already has power from another source, as is true in the commonwealth by acquisition, and so Hobbes can allow the covenants which create such a commonwealth to be made singly by each man to his future sovereign. But a commonwealth by institution can be set up only by covenants which are public : and to ensure that they are public Hobbes makes them covenants of every man with every other man.

I conclude that the power of the sovereign by institution is based on the psychological 'hold' over the minds of his subjects which is given him by the covenant itself. Hobbes is too great a realist to place much reliance either on the consciences of men or on their enlightenment. Covenants without the sword are but words : 'the passion to be reckoned upon is fear' (Leviathan XIV).7

7 Discussion of an early draft of this paper with Mr. I. M. Fowlie, one of my colleague� at Aberdeen, has helped both to clarify my ideas and to improve their presentation.

7

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S

Willis B. Glover

ATHEISTS were even rarer and more obscure i n seventeenth­

century England than communists in the modern United States. The scarcity of atheists, however, rather enhanced than restricted the term as an expression of loathsomeness and evil beyond accurate description. Those who seemed obviously wrong-headed on matters of the most serious import, and who were yet exasperatingly hard to prove wrong, must be in the power ot some unnatural evil. Thus Thomas Hobbes was denounced in his own lifetime as an atheist ; and the legend which had begun in this way with his enemies was continued and strengthened in the following centuries by his friends. French Encyclopedists and English Utilitarians were great admirers of Hobbes for his individualism, his associationist psychology, his mechanistic rationalism, his utilitarianism, and his materialism. Having drawn atheistic conclusions from ideas similar to those of Hobbes, they found it easy to believe that his reputation for bold atheism was deserved. Atheism thus became an integral part of what has been called 'the orthodox undergraduate view of Hobbes' ; and this view is still supported by very able scholars.1

The tradition o± Hobbes the atheist has not, of course, gone unchallenged. John Aubrey, who knew Hobbes intimately, did

1 See, for example: Leo Strauss, The Political PbilosoMy of Hobbes, tr. Elsa M. Sinclair (

· , 1952), pp. 74-75 (First published, Oxford 1936). Raymond Polin,

Politique hie chez Thomas Hobbes (Paris, 1953), pp. xv-xvi and p. 140. John Bowie, o es and His Critics (New York, 1952), pp. 13-14 and pp. 42-46. Basil Willey, The Seventeenth Century Background (London, 1934), p. 101, pp. 1 1 1-115, and p . 120. H. R. Trevor-Roper, 'Books in General,' New Statesman and Nation, XXX (1945), p. 61 (Reprinted in Trevor-Roper's Men and Events, New York, 1957, p. 235.)

A. D. Lindsay in his Introduction to the Everyman edition of Leviathan and Sterling P. Lamprecht in 'Hobbes and Hobbism,' The American Political Science Review, XXXIV (1940), pp. 31-53, seem also to assume that Hobbes was virtually, if not explicitly, an atheist.

1 42 WILLIS B . GLOVER

not think him an atheist; and some of the nineteenth-century interpreters were very cautious on this point. Leslie Stephen gives an atheistic interpretation of Hobbes's philosophy but suspects that Hobbes personally believed in God. More recently the trend seems to be definitely in favour of a theistic interpre­tation. Michael Oakeshott and Howard Warrender, for example, have not only accepted Hobbes's theism as genuine, but have declared it essential to his political philosophy.

It we take at face value what Hobbes had to say about religion, the set of opinions which emerges is a combination of Reforma­tion theology with the discursive rationalism that was to charac­terize the eighteenth century and which had one of its earliest sources in Hobbes. The passion with which Hobbes elaborated and defended thls combination reveals more commitment to hls own intellectual constructions than any depth of religious insight ; yet the phllosophlcal scepticism of Hobbes and his uncommon knowledge of the Bible brought him much closer to the thought of the Reformation than the later deists or most of their seventeenth­century precursors. Some of the ideas which Hobbes derived from the Reformation were, as a matter of fact, as disturbing to his contemporaries as anything resulting from his rationalism or materialism. The stark clarity with which Hobbes stated his views must have been particularly disconcerting to those who held very similar views but were accustomed to think of them in contexts and terminology that obscured implications Hobbes laid bare. No other Calvinist ever drew out more consistently the deter­ministic implications of predestination or insisted more vigorously on its relation to the absolute sovereignty of God2; but in Hobbes the doctrine had a different ring. The difference is partly the association of predestinarian ideas with 'mechanism', which was essentially the new rationalism that had its rise in Hobbes. Partly the difference was that Hobbes notably lacked what Basil Willey calls •a gout for the numinous'. The warm piety that enlivened much of the sterile neo-scholastic Protestant discussion of doctrine was missing in Hobbes even when he quoted the favourite scrip­tures of evangelical Protestantism.

Determinism was one point at issue between Hobbes and the Cambridge Platonists, and it was by no means the only one. The

1 Liberty and Necessity, E. W. IV, pp. 249-50 ;Questions Concerning Uberty, Necessity and Chance, E.W. V, pp. 12-13, p. 213.

.

GOD AND THOMAS HOBBES 143

intuitive, Platonic rationalism of Cudworth and More, by virtue of which man was a spark of divinity itself, was sharply contra­dicted by Hobbes at several points : his tendency to restrict reason to the exploration of causes, his scepticism, his determinism, and what seemed to the Platonists his low opinion of human nature. Hobbes did not identify as sin the basic egotism in terms of which he analyzed even such virtues as humility, love, or charity, but the picture he draws of human nature still seems to have dose affinities with Luther and Calvin. The Cambridge Platonists evidently were not impressed with the possibility of a Christian origin of his analysis ; a man with such views seemed to them the chief enemy of true piety-an atheist in intent and in effect if not in explicit statement. And his explicit statements about God did not allay their hostility ; for against the God of the Platonists Hobbes defended the Biblical tradition of a God who acts directly in nature and history, a God who is the source of righteousness but is not himself bound by any natural law of morality. In addition, Hobbes insisted on the corporeality of God, which was as great an affront as could be to these defenders of reason and spirit against all materialists.

Less easy to explain is the strong opposition to the religious views of Hobbes that developed among the proto-deists and devotees of the new science. Many of them were also materialists, and the rationalism that characterized them was closer to the rationalism of Hobbes than to that of the Platonists. The study whlch Richard S. Westfall has recently made of the seventeenth­century virtuosi suggests that their hostility to Hobbes may have been a result of their own religious uncertainty as they tried to reconcile their inherited faith with the new currents of scientific thought. Westfall points out that the virtuosi had not yet made a break with Christianity ; but their atomism had been associated with atheism in ancient philosophy, and knowledge of thls fact was the seed o± doubt in their minds-not at this time doubt of the truth of Christianity so much as a doubt of their own faith in it. The fear of atheism was real though the atheists they feared were not. Their polemical response was natural religion.3 Hobbes himself was not an atomist, but hls materialism and his mechanistic rationalism gave him affinities with the scientifically

3 Richard S. Westfall, Sdenre and Religion in Seventeenth-Century England (New Haven, 1958), p. 20 and pp. 106-110.

144 W I L L I S B . G LO V E R

inclined who were; while his scepticism, though not rigorously consistent, was a threat to their efforts at a rational defense of the faith. That Hobbes united his scepticism with affirmations of belief in the Christian God, revelation, and providence and took up a position similar to that of late medieval fideists was not reassuring. The very ease with which Hobbes asserted his belief in providence and pronounced atheistic any denial of it4 seemed mocking effrontery to those for whom it was a real and unsolved problem. They doubted his sincerity.

Hobbes had taken advantage of theistic possibilities offered by his peculiar non-atomistic materialism. According to him there are many different kinds of substance. Some are so subtle that they cannot be apprehended by human senses. Hobbes did not deny that God is Spirit ; he simply insisted that such spirits as exist are corporeal. Because he conceived God to be a body, Hobbes had no particular difficulty with the idea of His provi­dential activity. Bodies can move other bodies, and God, the cause of all causes, still operates directly on other bodies in accordance with his eternal purpose and foreknowledge of all things. 5 Since the substance of God was not like any other substance, Hobbes was able to avoid contradicting at this point the inherited Christian conception of God as radically discon­tinuous with the created world.

There are difficulties in Hobbes's position which would have been troublesome had he undertaken a complete systematic theology ; as it was, his emphasis on the incomprehensibility of God served him well in polemics. This would not have been an adequate defense, however, if his opponents had pressed him on the lacuna between creation ex nihilo and a concept of causation as the influence of one body on another. Hobbes, who speaks of God as the cause of the world, does not seem to have been aware of the discrepancy, although the scepticism he inherited trom the late Middle Ages was developed in part out of this very problem. His treatment of God as a cause tended to reduce God to one member of a causal universe, which would be a very great heresy from a Christian point of view; but in one form or another this problem is perennial in Christian thought. It is, for example, the

• De Cive, XV, 14. • Thomas Hobbes, An Answer to a Book Published f!y Dr. Bramhall, late Bishop of

Derry, E. W. IV, p. 310 ; Questiotls concerning Liberty, E. W. V, p. 246. Cf. Leviathan, pp. 440--441.

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 145

object of Tillich's criticism in his trenchant remark: 'It is as atheistic to affirm the existence of God as it is to deny it. God is being it-self, not a being.'6

The attack on Hobbes, however, was not so much a criticism of specific items in his theology as a charge of atheism. Material­ism was associated in classical philosophy with atheism, and the atomism implied by the new mechanistic science strengthened the association. A little later some of the bolder thinkers of the Enlightenment were to draw atheistic conclusions from material­ism and to claim Hobbes as their own. But even before that time, it was generally assumed that Hobbes the materialist must be an atheist whatever he may have said to the contrary to protect himself from persecution. Hobbes did not fail to point out the unfairness of this kind of argument and called the accusations based on them 'atheism by consequence'. Too good a polemicist to admit any grounds for this in his own philosophy, he carries the argument to the opposition :

He that holds there is a God, and that God is really some­what, (for bot!J is doubtlessly a real substance), is as far from being an atheist, as it is possible to be. . . . But they that hold God to be a phantasm, as did the exorcists in the Church of Rome, that is, such a thing as were at that time thought to be the sprights, that were said to walk in church­yards and to be the souls of men buried, do absolutely make God to be nothing at all. But how ? Were they atheists ? No. For though by ignorance of the consequence they said that which was equivalent to atheism, yet in their hearts they thought God a substance, and would also, if they had known what substance and what corporeal meant, have said he was a corporeal substance. So that this atheism f?y consequence is a very easy thing to be fallen into, even by the most godly men of the church. He also that says that God is whol(y here, and whol(y there, and whol(y every where, destroys by consequence the unity of God, and the infiniteness of God, and the simplicity of God. And this the Schoolmen do, and are therefore atheists fry conse­quence and yet they do not all say in their hearts that there is no God.7 6 Paul Tillich, Systematic Theology, I (Chicago, 1951), p. 237. John H. Randall, Jr.,

retorts : 'But if, as he likes to assert paradoxically, belief in the existence of God is the worst fonn of atheism, I am at least free of atheism in that form.' The Theology of Paul Tillich, ed. Charles W. Kegley and Robert W. Bretall (New York, 1956), p. 136.

7 Answer Jo Dr. Bramhall, E . W. IV, pp. 383-384. L

1 46 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

More recent writers who have imputed to Hobbes 'atheism by consequence' are sometimes guilty of an anachronism in that they assume that attitudes associated with some of Hobbes's ideas in their own day must be the real attitudes of Hobbes. Leslie Stephen has cautioned against such a lack of historical imagination and refrains himself from passing judgment on what Hobbes really believed ; but even Stephen found it hard to take the religious ideas of Hobbes seriously. Those who consider Hobbes an atheist are forced to assume that he did not mean what he said on religion, and he said a great deal. This is a dangerous method of interpretation. Almost anyone can be presented as an atheist on the assumption that whatever he may have said to the contrary was not seriously or literally meant. That such a method should have held the field so long is due principally to the fact that the religion of Hobbes has not been the object of serious study but has been commented upon by scholars primarily interested in his politics or metaphysics. This is understandable, for his theology is of little intrinsic worth; but it has not led to a clear picture of the. religion of Hobbes, and in some cases it has resulted in serious misunderstanding of his political philosophy.

In view of the fact that Hobbes devoted more than a third of his political writings to dicussion of religion and wrote several polemical books to combat the charge of atheism and show himself, not only a theist, but a sound Anglican Christian, it is incumbent on any who think he did not mean what he said to provide some principle of interpretation that will show what he did mean or at least to explain why he should write insincerely at such length. I do not think this has been done. The motives which have been alleged to explain why Hobbes, though an atheist, should have written as he did, are mutually inconsistent, and generally implausible. Three explanations have been prom­inent in the interpretation of Hobbes :

1. He aimed to destroy Christianity and the Bible by an elaborate reductio ad absurd�1m.

2. He cluttered his works with theistic suggestions and pronouncements in order to protect himself from persecution for the atheistic basis of his politics and mechanics.

I' ' •· ..

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 147

3. He sought to support his political views by appeal to the religious beliefs of his readers. 8

Obviously the first motive is not consistent with the other two, for success in the reductio ad absurdutJJ would remove the protection and the support which are alleged as additional motives. Yet this motive, when considered by itself, does not explain what Hobbes has done. If we assume that Hobbes thought the removal of Christianity essential to a healthy political community, we have the problem of explaining why he should have been so concerned to establish the sovereign as the head of the church or why he should have argued with such cogency and seemingly serious intent for what he contended were the right answers to religious questions that vexed his age. Furthermore, if he were attacking Christianity, his effort was so covert and subtle that he could hardly have expected to convince enough people to produce any political effect except, possibly, further religious dissension. Finally, this explanation puts Hobbes in the position of defying his sovereign in what he himself insisted was

· a matter of prime importance. If, on the other hand, we attempt to explain the alleged

reductio ad absttrdum on the assumption that the political theory of Hobbes is essentially independent of his religious views, we would have to explain why he would burden his politics with hundreds of pages of obscure attacks on Christianity. Such action on his part would imply that Hobbes did not take his politics very seriously.

The second and third motives listed above are not contra­dictory. There is, in fact, no question but that Hobbes did appeal to the religious beliefs of his readers in support of his political theory. The question is whether he did this with intellectual honesty or whether he combined this appeal with an attempt to hide his own real opinions. If the latter had been the case, one might have expected him to avoid minority positions and highly controversial issues in order to win a maximum of support and avoid attracting criticism to his own views. Actually, of course, he does just the opposite. He denied that man has an immortal soul distinct from his body and argued instead for the resurrection of the body; he contended that the kingdom of God which would

8 All three of these alleged motives are used as explanations by Leo Strauss l!lp. cit., p. 71, p. 76.

'

148 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

b e established after the final Judgment would be on earth; he denied the existence of a personal Satan ; he rejected on Biblical grounds any belief that the eternal death of the wicked would be an everlasting torment. On some of these questions Hobbes not only had learned support among contemporary Christians, but would be considered by modern Bible scholars to be on sound ground in his interpretation of the Scriptures. In short, his opinions were certainly not rash or without foundation ; but they were minority opinions sure to involve him in controversy. The most plausible explanation for his discussion of these matters is that he took his opinions on them seriously enough to risk the criticism they were bound to draw. If Hobbes's purpose had been to avoid persecution, this purpose would have been better served by a clear and unqualified Erastianism without elaboration.

Some scholars, realizing that religious pretence cannot be proved against Hobbes and yet unable to free themselves from the traditional conception of Hobbes the atheist, have found his political writings so confusing that they conclude Hobbes must have been himself confused to have introduced God into his political philosophy at all. Leslie Stephen said that 'bis system would clearly be more consistent and intelligible if he simply omitted the theology altogether.'9 The same idea has recently been given even stronger expression by Mr. Plamenatz. Now it is entirely conceivable that scholars with the advantage of nine­teenth- or twentieth-century perspectives might understand the political philosophy of Hobbes better than Hobbes did. But it is necessary to proceed cautiously. Reconstructions of a political philosophy that leave out emphatically stated opinions of the philosopher on the grounds that they contradict the reconstruc­tion ought not to J;>e accepted until every effort has been made to understand the philosopher on his own terms. Mr. Plamenatz's article on 'Mr. Warrender's Hobbes' becomes less an argument against Warrender than an argument against Hobbes. The thesis is not so much 'Mr. Warrender has misinterpreted Hobbes' but rather 'Hobbes was wrong to write as Mr. Warrender says he did' .1°

To explain the voluminous discussion of religion in Hobbes's political works by saying Hobbes did not understand what,he was

• Leslie Stephen, Hobbes (London, 1928), p. 1 52, p. 157. 10 John Plamenatz, 'Mr. Warrender's Hobbes,' Political Studies, V (1957),

pp. 295-308. [Reprinted in Chapter IV of this volume.]

G O D AND T H OM A S H O B B E S 149

doing is not convincing. It is more plausible to assume that Hobbes believed in God as he said he did and that he wrote his political philosophy in the light of that fact. Confusions there may be ; but on the assumption of Hobbes's sincerity they are understandable products of theological weakness and the difficulty of the problem of church and state for any Christian thinker.

(ii)

The problem of church and state is, indeed, more central to the thought of Hobbes than his interpreters have generally recognized. Despite Hobbes's dear statements to the contrary, it has been assumed by most that his conception of the state is entirely secular and that he treats religion as a mere instrument of the sovereign. If we can take Hobbes's word for it (and I think we ought to begin to do so) religion may indeed be used by the sovereign for his own purposes ; but only in a pagan state is religion normally limited to a utilitarian role.11 In a Christian state the sovereign is not only subject to natural law as the command of God but, as head of a Christian church, is responsible for the salvation of his subjects. Far from making religion or the church a mere tool of the state, Hobbes defines the Christian state as a church and ascribes to it a religious mission which takes precedence over its legitimate worldly concerns.

�

Hobbes wrote his political philosophy with practical intent. He tells us himself that the threat of civil war in England caused him to publish De Cive before the two sections of his projected comprehensive philosophy that logically preceded it.12 Religious dissension seemed to Hobbes the chief threat to the peace of the state. In 1 641 he wrote to the Earl of Devonshire : 'the dispute between the spiritual and the civil power has of late, more than anything in the world, been the cause of civil wars in all places of Christendom'Y1 For Hobbes, then, the problem of church and ' state is crucial ; and it is for this reason that he engages in long theological discussions and employs his considerable talents as a

11 Leviathan, pp. 73-77. " De Cive, Preface to thfl Reader. 1a Quoted by Leslie Stephen, op. cit., p. 30.

1 50 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

Biblical exegete in political treatises where such sections have seemed to many modern interpreters to be irrelevant digressions.

If Hobbes had been an atheist, and if he had been concerned to develop a purely secular theory of the state without calling atten­tion to his atheism, he would have had available to him in Saint Augustine's doctrine of the two cities a convenient means of dissociating the earthly city from the City of God. Oakeshott has noticed the affinity between Hobbes and Augustine in the matter of the artificial quality of the state as a human contrivance and describes Hobbes as belonging within an Augustinian political tradition.14 Hobbes, however, does not take advantage of the opportunity offered by Augustine's treatment of the earthly city as properly concerned with the things of this life and not with religious matters. On the contrary, he describes the Christian state as a church and ascribes to it a religious purpose. This solution, which is suggested in The Elements of Law, is developed in De Cive and supported by appeal to Scripture, the history of the church, and theological argument. The same argument is repeated and expanded in the Leviathan. Hobbes summarizes his conclusion as follows :

And therefore a Church, such a one as is capable to com­mand, to judge, absolve, condemn, or do any other act, is the same thing with a civil commonwealth, consisting of Christian men; and is called a civil state, for that the subjects of it are men: and a Church, for that the subjects thereof are Christians. Temporal and spiritual government, are but two words brought into the world, to make men see double, and mistake their lawful sovereign. It is true, that the bodies of the faithful, after the resurrection, shall be not only spiritual, but eternal; but in this life they are gross, and corruptible. There is therefore no other government in this life, neither of state, nor religion, but temporal ; nor teaching of any doctrine, lawful to any subject, which the governor both of the state, and of the religion forbiddeth to be taught. And that governor must be one; or else there must needs follow faction and civil war in the commonwealth, between the Church and State . . . and, which is more, in every Christian man's own breast, between the Christian, and the man. The doctors of the Church, are called pastors ; so also are civil sovereigns. But if pastors be not subrn:-dinate one to another, so as that there may be one chief 14 Oakeshott, loc. cit., pp. Iii-liii.

G O D A N D T H OM A S H O BB E S 151

pastor, men will b e taught contrary doctrines ; whereof both may be, and one must be false. Who that one chie± pastor is, according to the law of nature, hath been already shown; namely, that it is the civil sovereign : and to whom the Scripture hath assigned that office, we shall see in the chapters following.Io

It is to be noted that this extreme Erastianism, which reminds one of Luther, was not an effort to turn religion into a mere instrument of political power after the manner of Rousseau or other more recent writers, but furnished the limiting context within which alone the sovereign could fulfill the ends of govern­ment and secure the maximum development of his power. Natural laws being the conditions for having a civil society, the continued power of the sovereign would be maintained only by obedience to them. And for the Christian prince these conditions included a concern for the eternal salvation of his subjects. The following passage from The Elmtents of Law is a particularly dear statement of a position taken by Hobbes in all three of his political treatises :

For the duty of a sovereign consisteth in the good government of the people ; and although the acts of sovereign power be no injuries to the subjects who have consented to the same by their implicit wills, yet when they tend to hurt the people in general, they be breaches of the law of nature, and of the divine law; and consequently, the contrary acts are the duties of sove­reigns, and required at their hands to the utmost of their endeavour, by God Almighty, under the pain of eternal death. . . . and governing to the profit of the subjects, is governing to the profit of the sovereign, as hath been showed Part II, chapter 5, section 1 . And these three : 1. the law over them that have sovereign power; 2. their duty; 3. their profit : are one and the same thing contained in this sentence, Salus populi suprema lex; by which must be understood, not the mere preservation of their lives, but generally their benefit and good . . . .

2. And forasmuch as eternal is better than temporal good, it is evident, that they who are in sovereign authority, are by the law of nature obliged to further the establishing of all such

t5 Leviathan, p. 306. Cf. De Cive, XVIII, 1 .

1 52 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

doctrines and rules, and the commanding of all such actions, as in their conscience they believe to be the true way there­unto . . . ,16

The sincerity of Hobbes in the above passage has, of course, been questioned, and his long involved argument for the identity of the church and the Christian state construed as a clever subter­fuge by which he dispenses with all authority except the arbitrary authority of the sovereign . . This is a strained interpretation at best, an interpretation in which the explicit arguments and conclusions of Hobbes are set aside and replaced by alternate theories which the interpreter thinks more consistent with the general position ot Hobbes as a political theorist. The alleged insincerity becomes even less credible when one considers the way Hobbes dealt with the problem of a possible conflict between a subject's obligation to obey the sovereign and his performance of what was necessary to his own salvation. Hobbes certainly undertakes to extend the power of the sovereign as far as he can ; but he pursues the question with such honesty and seriousness of purpose as actually to compromise his basic doctrine of the authority of the sovereign in two ways: (1) After reducing the area of the subject's freedom of decision as much as he can, he leaves the ultimate decision as to whether the command of the sovereign is consistent with the salvation of the subject up to the subject. Indeed, it is dear that Hobbes assumes that the practical effectiveness of his political doctrine depends upon convincing the subjects that their salvation will not (except in the rarest circumstances, of which they are the final judges) be jeopardized by obeying the sovereign in all matters including religion. (2) In the case of a Christian living in a pagan state, Hobbes departs trom his doctrine of the single sovereign to suggest that the Christian should accept the authority of some church-even one outside the boundaries of his state. Considering his doctrine of the church as a Christian state this was tantamount to allowing a subject to have two sovereigns.

The argument by which Hobbes was led to these astonishing conclusions is worth summarizing briefly, for his sincerity in it

16 Elements, p. 142. Cf. De Cive, XIII, 4, XVIII, 1, 2-5, and 13. The same position may be clearly inferred from the Leviathan, by comparing pages 219 and 227 (ehap. 30) with pages 290-91 (chap. 37-38) and page 306 (chap. 39).

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 153

can hardly be questioned-he would never have invented argu­ments with such consequences if he had been merely using religion to bolster the authority of the sovereign.

Hobbes begins with the proposition that the two things necessary to salvation are faith and obedience. This formula is given an evangelical emphasis by equating obedience and repent­ance so that 'faith and obedience' is synonomous with 'repentance and faith' ; for, says Hobbes, repentance is essentially the intention to obey and God takes the intention for the deed.l7 The require­ment of obedience presented no particular difficulty. Hobbes was able to show that obedience to the sovereign could not conflict with obedience to God because God both through reason (i.e., natural law) and through Scripture commanded obedience to the sovereign as taking precedence over all other obligations. If the sovereign c::ommanded what opposed the law of nature he was accountable to God for his act; but, the command having been given, obedience to it was for the subject what tended toward peace and was thus the fulfilment of the law of nature.

Thus the only possibility of conflict between the obligation to obey the sovereign and the eternal salvation of the subject was in the matter of faith. This possibility Hobbes reduced to a minimum, but he did not utterly abolish it, and he admitted that in cases where the conflict actually arose, the subject's obligation to obey the sovereign was invalidated. He, furthermore, assumed that the subject must be himself the judge as to when the invalidat­ing conflict existed. IS

Although Hobbes understood faith as resulting from our trust in the knowledge and truthfulness of others, for him the obj ect of faith was always a proposition rather than another person.19 In other words, he did not comprehend the fully developed Reformation concept of faith as it was understood by Luther. Faith remained intellectualistic, and his argument proceeds on this basis. The only article of faith that was necessary to salvation was comprehended in the single proposition 'Jesus is the Christ'. All other doctrines were unessential and therefore could be- safely left to the discretion of the sovereign. Belief in these doctrines, or at least outward confession of them, thus

11 De Cive XVIII, 2 and 3. Elements, p. 76, pp. 122-123; Leviathan, p. 385. · 18 Elements, p. 125; De Cive, XVIII, 1, 2, and 9 ; Leviathan, pp. 384-388; Answer to

Bishop Bramhall, E. W. IV, p. 367. n De Cive, XVIII, 4.

1 54 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

became a matter of obedience rather than of faith.20 Only i n the case of the one essential article of faith could obedience to the sovereign possibly endanger the salvation of the subject; and Hobbes argued that it was inconceivable that any Christian sovereign would command a subject to deny this article.

Since Hobbes was keenly aware that most of the political dissensions serious enough to cause civil war in his day involved controversies over religious doctrine as either cause or excuse and basis for popular appeal, he understood that the practical effect of his political philosophy depended on his success in convincing the public that the disputed points were not worth the price of disrupting the state. It must be noted that he himself does not contend that any subject owes an obedience that would jeopardize his eternal salvation21 ; and, therefore, he found it necessary to convince his readers that faith necessary to salvation was confined to the single article 'Jesus is the Christ'. It is for this reason that Hobbes enters into a serious and lengthy discussion of the way of salvation in his major treatises on politics. In the course of this discussion he specifies the content of the only essential article of faith in language that sounds much more like Wesley than like a modern secularist :

. . . when I say that the faith of one article is sufficient to salva­tion, it may well be less wondered at, seeing that in it so many other articles are contained. For these words, Jesus is the Christ, do signify that Jesus was that person, whom God had promised by his prophets should come into the world to estab­lish his kingdom ; that is to say, that Jesus is the Son of God, God, the creator of heaven and earth, born of a virgin, dying for the sins of them who should believe in him ; that he was Christ, that is to say, a king; that he revived (for else he were not like to reign) to judge the world, and to reward everyone according to his works, for otherwise he cannot be a king ; also that men shall :rise again, for otherwise they are not like to come to judgment. The whole symbol of the apostles is there­fore contained in this one article; which, notwithstanding, I thought reasonable to contract thus, because I found that many men for this alone, without the rest, were admitted into the kingdom of God, both by Christ and his apostles ; as the thief on the cross, the eunuch baptized by Philip, the two

2o Elements, p. 124; De Cive, XVIII, 6, and 14; Leviathan, pp. 394-395. 21 Leviathan, p. 384.

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 1 55

thousand men converted to the Church at once by St. Peter. But if any man be displeased that I do not judge all those eternally damned, who do not inwardly assent to every article defined by the Church (and yet do not contradict, but, if they be commanded, do submit), I know not what I shall say to them. For the most evident testimonies of Holy Writ, which do follow, do withhold me from altering my opinion.22

Students of Hobbes's politics have frequently been so struck by his principle that a subject may be morally obligated to confess as a matter of obedience doctrines to which he does not inwardly assent that they have missed Hobbes's equal insistence that the essential article of faith must be believed and his assurance that no Christian sovereign would ever require its denial.

The case of Christian subjects of a pagan prince posed a more difficult problem which Hobbes is less successful in solving. For a seventeenth-century European the problem was of theoretical interest only, and its lack of practical significance may account for Hobbes's failure to work out all its implications. That he recog­nized the problem at all clearly indicates that Hobbes did not hold that the command of the sovereign rightly determined the ultimate religious faith of the subject or even, in all cases, the matter ot overt acts or worship .

Even though Hobbes defined a Church as 'a compaf!Y of men professing Christian religion, ttnited i11 the person of one sm,ereign' and so identical with a Christian state, 23 he ascribed a limit to the doctrinal authority ot the church. In the same chapter of De Cive in which he equates church and Christian state, Hobbes specifies the limitation :

By reason of this article [that Jesus is the Christ] , therefore, we might not trust the very apostles and angels themselves (and therefore, I conceive, not the Church neither) if they should teach the contrary . . . � For that article was before the Christian Church, (Marth. xvi. 18), although all the rest were after it; and the Church was founded upon it, not it upon the Church.24 2ll De Cive, XVIII, 6, note. Cf. Leviathan, pp. 392-393. [Quotations from De Cive

in this chapter follow the text of Sterling P. Lamprecht's edition (New York, 1949) except where otherwise noted.]

23 Leviathan, p. 3Q5. 24 De Cive, XVIII, 9. The argument here is based on Galatians 1 :8, which Hobbes

quotes.

1 56 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

Hobbes, nevertheless, attached considerable importance t o the doctrinal authority of the Christian sovereign. It was an authority that dealt not with the essential article of faith but with those lesser points which were matters of obedience for the Christian subject. The Christian in a pagan state would have' to depend for doctrinal guidance on some church and thus would be subject to two sovereign authorities.

' [That] obedience, even from a Christian subject, is due in all temporal matters to those princes who are no Christians, is without any controversy ; but in matters spiritual, that is to say, those things which concern God's worship, some Christian Church is to be followed. For it is an hypothesis of the Christian faith, that God speaks not in things supernatural, but by the way of Christian interpreters of holy Scriptures. But what ? Must we resist princes, when we cannot obey them ? Truly, no ; for this is contrary to our civil covenant. What must we do then ? Go to Christ by martyrdom ; which if it seem to any man to be a hard saying, most certain it is that he believes not with his whole heart, that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God (for he would then desire to be dissolved, and to be with Christ), but he would by a feigned Christian faith elude that obedience which he hath contracted to yield unto the city.25

This is a remarkable passage. Hobbes is caught in a net of his own weaving. Unwilling to admit any direct revelation from God in post-apostolic times, he appeals to a distinction between spiritual and temporal powers which he denies in a Christian state. Furthermore, he draws from this distinction just that doctrine of a dual sovereignty which he elsewhere points out as its greatest danger. His effort to avoid the consequence of resistance to the sovereign by insisting on the obligation to accept martyrdom and lashing out at those who might object is a weak solution which involves him in still another contradiction. For the same right to resist the executioner which he so rationally defends elsewhere would seem to apply here and so vitiate his entire argument. It is incredible that Hobbes would have so compromised his political philosophy by questions arbitrarily and insincerely raised as part of some camouflage movement to hide his atheism.

u Ibid., XVITI, 13.

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 1 57

In the Leviathan Hobbes modified his position slightly by arguing that faith is a gift of God which cannot be given or taken away by reward or torture. The lay subject may, therefore, obey the sovereign's command to deny his faith with his tongue pro­vided he hold it firmly in his heart. Such a case would not fall under the judgment ot Christ against those who deny him before men because the action would not be the subject's but the sove­reign's. Since obedience would not here jeopardize salvation by removing faith, it becomes itself a condition of salvation. But even in this passage Hobbes distinguishes the lay Christian from the pastor with a calling to preach the gospeL The pastor should suffer martyrdom rather than obey a command to deny Christ even with his lips alone. 26 These modifications do not change the position of Hobbes in any essential way, but merely reduce the number of cases in which the practical problem would arise.

The relation of church and state was much more of a problem for Hobbes than has been realized by interpreters who assume too easily that he cut the Gordian knot by assigning an absolute and completely arbitrary religious authority to the sovereign. An approach to Hobbes that took his discussion of this problem seriously might have far-reaching consequences for his political system as a whole, but an investigation into so complex a matter would be beyond the scope of this article. Interest here is limited to pointing out that the concern of Hobbes with the relation of the state to the Christian religion and the difficulties into which this concern led him make untenable any assumption that his religious expressions are to be dismissed as insincere or irrelevant.

(iii)

The irony of Hobbes's reputation for atheism is heightened by the fact that the charge (or credit) of atheism has frequently rested on those of his opinions which are closest to important developments in the history of Christian thought.

A strong tradition of philosophical scepticism can be traced from Paul's first letter to the Corinthians through Augustine, the late medieval scholastics, and the Reformation; this tradition is particularly strong in the neo-Reformation theology of the twentieth century. There is, indeed, an increasing tendency to

ts Leviathan, pp. 327-329 and p. 395.

158 WILL I S B . GL O V E R

see the empmc1sm, the nominalism, and the scepticism that developed in some of the Schoolmen of the fourteenth century as the historical source of the secular versions of these positions in more recent philosophers. Roman Catholics, who take Thomas as a Christian norm, see this as evidence that deviations ftom Thomism are dangerous. But non-Catholic historians may evaluate it differently. Scepticism developed within the Christian tradition of late medieval scholasticism, and it led directly to Luther, who had studied William ot Ockham, as well as indirectly to Hume.

The Christian doctrine of creation, precisely by its insistence on a radical discontinuity between God and the world, put the omnipotent God in immediate and constant relationship with every created being. Not a sparrow falls without his knowledge. The resulting nominalism, in conjunction with the Hebrew­Christian concept of a God who acts in infinite freedom, introduced a radical impredictability into the world and a basic scepticism into philosophy.

Hobbes was profoundly, if not quite consistently, sceptical,27 but it is a serious error to suppose that his scepticism implied a rejection of the Christian faith. Oakeshott links him directly to the Christian thinkers of the late Middle Ages :

It may be observed that what is recognized here [Hobbes, E. W. VII, p. 3] is the normally unstated presupposition of all seventeenth-centurv science : the Scotist belief that the natural world is the creati(;n ex nihi!o of an omnipotent God, and that therefore categorical knowledge of its detail is not deducible but (if it exists) must be the product of observation. Character­istically adhering to the tradition, Hobbes says that the only thing we can know of God is his omnipotence. 2s

In relating his theology to his scepticism Hobbes rejected or failed to comprehend the profound reinterpretation of reve-lation and faith that one finds in Luther. Conceiving the substance of revelation and the object ot faith as propositional, 29 and yet

2 ' Leviathan, pp. 7-13, p. 27, and p. 53 (chaps. 1, 2, 5, and 9) ; Hobbes, Human Nature, chap. 2, recently reproduced i n The Metapfo,skal System of Hobbes, ed. Mary W. Calkins (La Salle, Illinois, 1948), pp. 157-162; Questions Concerning Liberty, E. �. V, p. 399. See also F. J. E. Woodbridge, Hobbes: Selections(New York, 1930), p. xxtv and an excellent discussion i n Oakeshott, loc. cit., pp. xx-xxvii.

28 Oakeshott, loc. cit., p. xxvii. n Elements, p. 46 ; De Cive, XVIII, 4.

G O D A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 159 explicitly repudiating any A verroistic doctrine of a two-fold truth,ao Hobbes held to a fideism similar to that of Ockham or Montaigne.

The weakness of Hobbes as a theologian is not his scepticism but his failure to apply his scepticism rigorously in regard to the knowledge of God. The Christian concept of creation involves a radical discontinuity between God and the world which is contradicted by including God and the world in the same system of causes. There is a significant passage in De Corpore in which Hobbes seems dose to grasping this point in his denial that the world can be proved either to be eternal or to have had a begin­ning.31 But Hobbes does not develop his scepticism consistently. Not only in his major political treatises, which were published before De Corpore, but in his later polemical writings also, he _ insisted that the exiHence and sovereignty of God can be known by rati9nal inquiry into causes. In short, he accepted much more of 'natural religion' than his epistemology would support. It i s true Hobbes insists o n the incomprehensibility of God and the impossibility of a positive, literal description ot his attributes. Human qualities such as _will, sight, or understanding can be ascribed to God only in a figurative sense to express 'some resemblance which we cannot conceive' .32 Such a recognition of human limitation is not a very bold scepticism. Professor Gilson uses almost identical language in describing the similar position of Thomas Aquinas. 33 It is remarkable that anyone should have thought such views implied an inclination to dispense with theism altogether.

Hobbes distinguishes natural religion as the possibility of a rational knowledge of God from natural religion as empirically known in human history :

Curiosity, or love of the knowledge of causes, draws a man from . . . the effect, to seek the cause ; and again, the cause of that cause; till of necessity he must come to this thought at last, that there is some cause, whereof there is no former cause, but is eternal; which is it men call God. So that it is impossible to make any profound inquiry into natural causes, without

3o Leviathan, p. 77. 31 Concerning &tfy, E. W. I, pp. 41 2-414. 32 Elementt, p. 42; Leviathan, p. 238; De Cive, XV, 14. aa Etienne Gilson, The Unity of Philosophical Experience (New York, 1937), p. 108.

160 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

being inclined thereby to believe there i s one God eternal; though they cannot have any idea of him in their mind, answerable to his nature . . . .

And they that make little, or no inquiry into the natural ·auses of things, yet from the fear that proceeds from the gnorance itself, of what it is that hath the power to do them

much good or harm, are inclined to suppose . . . several kinds of powers invisible ; and to stand in awe of their own imagin­ations ; . . . making the creatures of their own fancy, their gods. . . . And this fear of things invisible, is the natural seed of that, which every one in himself calleth religion ; and in them that worship, or fear that power otherwise than they do, superstition. 34

The relation Hobbes saw between a rational knowledge of the one God and pagan polytheism was a matter of degree. In the kingdom of God by nature atheism is treason, but idolatry is not. Hobbes is sometimes quite tolerant of the latter and assumes that the non-christian religions are the worship of the one God under other names and forms. The rational knowledge of God is not a matter of all or none 'as if whatever reason can suggest, must be suggested all at once'.35 The 'Kingdom of God by Nature' includes all who believe in God's governance of the world, for this belief is sufficient to transform the laws of nature from prudential maxims into the commands of God. 36 In pagan states, of course, the true relation between God and the laws ot nature might be largely obscured ; but even there rulers made use of the sanctions of religion 'in order to their end, which was the peace of the commonwealth'. Thus the laws of nature, which are the conditions of peace, acquire the moral force of laws even in pagan states by their identification with the authority of God or gods. Although Hobbes notes the religious scepticism of some Roman statesmen, he does not seem to think a state could exist without some religious basis of morality. 37

In the Elements of Law it is pointed out that ' . . . law (to speak properly) is a command, and [the laws of nature] . . . are not therefore called laws in respect of nature, but in respect of the

84 Leviathan, pp. 68-69 (chap. 11). 35Anm>er to Bishop Bramhall, E. W. IV, p. 293 ; De Cive, II, 21, XVIII, 11. se Leviathan, p. 233. De Cive, XV, 2, and 3. s ? Leviathan, pp. 73-76.

GOD AND T H O M A S HOBBES 161

author of nature, God Almighty'.38 That Hobbes recognized a general moral obligation to obey natural law as a command of God39 is made clear by the way in which he deals with atheists. Hobbes always treats the atheist as a special case and declares him capable of 'sins of imprudence' only. As he emphasizes, this by no means excuses them. They are punishable not as offending citizens ot the kingdom of God but as enemies or traitors against God, which is worse. 4° Furthermore, they are punishable as enemies by 'kings constituted under God'.41 Hobbes does not make clear whether this last phrase is intended to include pagan as well as Christian kings; in any event, I do not believe he ever suggests the possibility of an atheistic state.42 Incidentally, those who interpret Hobbes as allowing no basis ot moral obligation other than the arbitrary command of the sovereign must have some difficulty with the passage in De Cive in which Hobbes declares that he has searched diligently and found no law whereby he might condemn atheists of injustice. 43 If the reference were merely to the positive laws of seventeenth-century states, there would scarcely have been a problem !

It is important to remember that for Hobbes no rational con­clusion conveys absolute certainty about the real world.44 Rational constructions have for him the status of hypotheses. When this i s kept in mind, it is possible to reconcile the natural religion expounded in De Cive with the famous passage on atheism that appears· a few pages later :

Mankind, from conscience of its own weakness and admiration of natural events, hath this ; that most men believe God to be the invisible maker of all invisible things [i.e . , unknown causes] ; whom they also fear, conceiving that they have not a sufficient protection in themselves. But the imperfect use they had of their reason, and the violence of their passions did so cloud them, that they could not rightly worship him. Now the

38 Element;, ed. Tonnies, p. 72. The corresponding passage in De Cive, III. 33, specifies that the laws of nature are known as laws when commanded in holy Scriptures. But that Hobbes does not intend to deny a natural knowledge of God as the author of natural law is indicated by his use of the term 'word of God' in Leviathan, p. 105 (chap. 15) and his definition of the word of God to include our knowledge of God's laws by 'the dictates of natural rea.ron'. Ibid., p. 233 {chap. 31).

39 Cf. Warrender, pp. 97-100. •o De Cive, XIV, 19. 41 See also Leviathan, p. 233 (chap. 31). 42 Ibid., p. 73 43 De Cive, XIV, 19, note. u Leviathan, pp. 25-26 and pp. 40-41.

M

1 62 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

fear o f invisible things, when it is severed from right reason, i s superstition. I t was therefore almost impossible for men, without the special assistance of God, to avoid both rocks of atheism and superstition. For this proceeds from fear without right reason; that, from an opinion of right reason without fear . . . . But it pleased the Divine Majesty . . . to call forth Abraham, by whose means he might bring men to the true worship of him. . . 45

Later readers, full of an optimism and scientific hybris foreign to the spirit of Hobbes, have seen in his definition of atheism as 'an opinion of right reason without fear' a commendation of atheism and a contempt for religion. Jt is extremely untikely that Hobbes so intended it. Hobbes did not think the fears of men ungrounded, and his deep scepticism held no hope of ever abolishing the cause of fear. Fear, moreover, was not a term of opprobrium f,or Hobbes. Unblessed by the easy optimism of the Enlightenment, he saw the fear of God as the beginning of wisdom,46 and the fear of each other as the motive behind the formation of the state. In the mid-twentieth century, when so

, much of Christim'I thought finds deep affinities with existentialism, it should not be hard to understand how religion, and especially Christian faith, may be grounded in a sense of the predicament of man surrounded in his weakness by a world that threatens him in ways beyond his knowing. The folly of the atheist was an unrealistic appraisal of his own situation. He was guilty of what Hobbes calls 'vain-glory'.47 His ratiocinations, therefore, led to false conclusions ; and his atheism can be described as an opinion of right reason falsely based on vain-glory. Hobbes took as epigrammatic of his own view of the matter that passage in Psalms which reads : 'The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God.'48

So far as a knowledge of God is concerned, the philosophical scepticism of Hobbes has as its counterpart a fideistic acceptance of Christianity. His many affirmations of a rational knowledge of God are undermined by the scepticism and more dependent for support on the fideism than Hobbes usually makes clear. But he gives us no ground in either his scepticism or his rationalism for concluding that he is an atheist.

45 De Cive, E. W. II, p. 227. (XVI, 1.) 46 Answer to Bishop Bramhall, E. !!?. lV, p. 292. 47 Leviathan, pp. 35-36. 48 De Cive, XIV, 19, note; Answer to Bishop Bramhall, E. W. IV, pp. 292-293.

G O D A N D T H O M A S H OB B E S 163

The intellectual and religious heritage of Western Europe includes two theistic traditions : (1) the theism that developed out of Greek rationalism, in which God is perfect, unchanging, pure act without the possibility of action, rational and yet impersonal ; and (2) the theism of the Biblical tradition in which God is personal, Creator, immediately sovereign over nature, one who acts in history. These two understandings of God are ultimately irreconcilable. The insight of Pascal at this point led · · to his sharp distinction between the God of the philosophers and the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Many, if not most, of the difficulties in Christian theology result from the contradictions between these theisms which are so complexly intertwined in the history of Christian thought.49

Hobbes was caught in these contradictions ; and though his efforts at reconciliation are worthy to be compared with those of many who are better known as theologians, he did not achieve a consistent position. His leaning was strongly toward the Biblical tradition; but he seems to have been aware of the contradictions only in specific and limited contexts. He does not arrive at any clear and general definition of the problem. He seems, for example, unaware of the lacuna between the impersonal cause of all things and the personal sovereign who by virtue of his power is 'King, and Lord, and Father'. On the other hand, he was conscious of a problem in relating the dynamic activity of the God who commands and acts in history with the unchanging God implied in his determinism. His solution, ingenious if not wholly satisfying, is that God's present acts are carrying out his eternal intentions. 50

Ironically, it was the Biblical influence on Hobbes's under­standing of God that aroused the religious ire of his more rationalistic Christian contemporaries and has seemed to later rationalists, whether Christian or not, evidence of his insincerity and atheism. In his long controversy with Bishop Bramhall, it was Hobbes who upheld the dynamic, Biblical God who acts against the scholastic conception of God as Pure Act. Underneath the quibbling over tenninology was a fundamental difference. The bishop was contemptuous of Hobbes for ascribing potentiality to

n A good introduction to the radical contradiction between the two theisms is Anders Nygren, Agape and Eros, tr. Philip S. Watson (Philadelphia. 1953). Nygren deals with only one aspect of the problem but treats it in depth.

so Questions concerning Liberry. E.W. v. p. 246.

1 64 W I L L I S B . G L O V E R

God; Hobbes in like spirit dismisses the scholastic use of the term as meaningless and equates potentiality with 'potentia, which is in English power'. Integrally related to the question of God's activity were rival definitions of eternity. Bishop Bramhall understood it as nunc stans, an everlasting now; Hobbes, repudiat­ing the static implications of this concept, defined eternity as infinite duration. For Hobbes infinity was a negative term expressing our limitations, and duration was a phantasm for successive motion.51 He is here defending the incomprehensible Hebrew God who acts in history, and he does not fail to cite the Bible in his support, quoting, for example, Hebrews 1 :1 : 'God who in sundry times and diver� manners spake in times past . . .'52

For Hobbes God was pre-eminently He who commands. There was considerable speculative interest in the seventeenth century over whether God does what he does because it is good or whether it is good because God does it. The Cambridge Platonists and others influenced by the Platonic tradition held the moral law to be binding even on God; but Hobbes defended the Biblical tradition without equivocation. God, according to Hobbes, is 'beyond good and evil' in the most literal sense.

This I know; God cannot sin, because his doing a thing makes it just, and consequently, no sin ; as also because whatsoever can sin, is subject to another's law, which God is not.53

The infinite power of God was Hobbes's way of emphasizing that absolute freedom of God which puts his action beyond all possibility of judgment.

Who art thou, 0 man, that interrogates! God? Shall the work sqy to the workman, why hast thou made me thus? Hath not the potter power over the clqy, of the same stuff to make one vessel to honour, another to dishonour? According therefore to this answer of St. Paul, I answer my Lord's objection, and say, the power of God alone without othe� helps is sufficient justification of any action he doth. That which men make amongst themselves hete by pacts and covenants, and call by the name of justice, and according whereunto men are accounted and termed rightly

just or u'!}ust, is not that by which God Almighty's actions are to 01 Concerning Botfy, E. W. I, p. 94 ff. 52 Answer to Bishop Bramhall, E.W. IV, pp. 298-300; Questions concerning Liberry,

E. W. V, p. 343; Liberry and Necessiry, E. W. IV, p. 271. sa Liberry and Necessiry, E.W. IV, p. 250.

G O D AND T H O M A S H O B B E S 165 be measured or called just, no more than his counsels are to be measured by human wisdom. That which he does, is made just by his doing it; just, I say, in him, though not always just in us. . . . When God afflicted Job, he did object no sin unto him, but justified his afflicting of him, by telling him of his power: (Job xl. 9) : Hast thou, saith God, an arm like mine ? (Job xxvili. 4) : Where wert thou when I laid the foundations of the earth ? and the like. So our Saviour (John ix. 3) concerning the man that was born blind, said, it was not for his sin, or for his parents' sin, but that the power of God might be shown in him. Beasts are subject to death and torments, yet they cannot sin : it was God's will they should be so. Power irresistible justifies all actions, realfy and properfy, in whomsoever it be found; less power does not, and because such power is in God only, he must needs be just in all actions, and we, that not comprehending his counsels, call him to the bar, commit injustice in it.54

Religious ideas such as that expressed in the above quotation are not casual palliatives but are close to the heart of Hobbes's thought. The ethics of Hobbes was basically deontological ; command was for him the source of moral distinction. 55 This approach to ethics is Hebraic rather than Greek, and the spirit of it has so permeated Hobbes's thinking about the state that for some of his interpreters it has obscured the skillful way in which Hobbes combines it with natural law. Natural law for Hobbes was the command of God, but, as Oakeshott points out, it functions in his political philosophy in much the same way as it had for previous philosophers. The civil sovereign is a com­mander and a source of law; but he is also subject to law and can succeed as sovereign only by obedience to those natural laws which are the conditions for the existence of the society he rules. 56

· The sovereign, for Hobbes, is, therefore, not a Promethean figure.57 Indeed, how far Hobbes is from atheism could be demonstrated by comparing him with Nietzsche. The noble man of Nietzsche has a freedom which Hobbes reserves for God alone. 58

64 Liberry and Necessiry, E.W. IV. pp. 249-250. 56 De Cive, E. W. II, p. 228, (XVI, 2) ; cf. A. E. Taylor, 'The Ethical Doctrine of

Hobbes' [ehapter II of this volume]. 66 Elements, p. 142; De Cive, XIII. 2; Leviathan, p. 219 and p. 227. 67 M. Raymond Polin's efforts to interpret the sovereign in Hobbes as exercising

a Promethean freedom are not convincing. Raymond Polin, 'Le bien et le mal dans Ia philosophie de Hobbes', Revue philosophique de Ia France, CXXXVII (1946), pp. 307-311 .

sa a. Warrender, op. cit., pp. 299-300.

166 W I L L I S B . GLOVER

He i s equally far from pantheism. The God who acts and commands is not identical with the world. Hobbes not only distinguishes the two, but he explicitly declares that to identify God with the world or the world's soul i� t o deny his existence. 59

It is, therefore, extremely improbable that Hobbes had reference to the pantheism of Spinoza when he told his friend. Aubrey that Spinoza. 'had out-thrown him a. barre's length, for he durst not write so boldly'.60 There is no indication Aubrey interpreted the remark as an approval of pantheism, and he does explicitly declare that they s landered Hobbes who called him an atheist.

It would not be necessary in this brief discussion to include comment on Hobbes's view of man except that some have seen in his anthropology evidence of his atheism. This conclusion results partly from a failure ot his interpreters to understand the Christian doctrine of man and partly from the failure of Hobbes to identify as sin that extreme egocentricity that sets every man against every other man unless restrained by the awe of some power competent to enforce natural law. If Oakeshott is right in saying that the ngture of man, apart from any defects in his nature, is such in Hobbes's conception that whenever man is in proximity to man the predicament of the state of nature is produced, then the anthropology of Hobbes is not at this point Christian. A Christian interpretation of the predicament would relate it not to the nature of man per .re, but to that defect in his nature which is sin and the result of sin. Nevertheless, Hobbes's picture of man, 'solitary but not alone', given to pride and a ceaseless striving after power over others, is very close to the Christian understanding of sinful man.61 Certainly the fact that Hobbes presents a low view of man as you find him is not evidence of atheism or even of a departure from Christianity.

Another aspect of Hobbes's anthropology has been a more frequent source of atheistic interpretations. The idea of man's immortal soul has been so thoroughly incorporated into much of Christian thought that its Greek origins are frequently lost sight of. Even Basil Willey, who does understand the Greek origins of the concept, identifies Hobbes's repudiation of it with irreligion :

•• Lerliathan, p. 237 ; Q11utions concerning Liberry, E. W. V, pp. 210-21 1 ; De Cive, XV. 14.

•e Not 'cut through'. See a note by Prof. V. de S. Pinto in The Times Literary Supplement fot Sept. 1 5th., 1950 (p. 581).

61 Oakeshott. loc. cit., p. xxxv and pp. liv-lv.

GOD A N D T H O M A S H O B B E S 167

'To deny it', he says, 'in the seventeenth century . . . was the worst of atheisms.'62 Yet Milton denied it and did so as the result of a very careful study of Biblical teaching on the subject. George Conklin identifies as one of Milton's 'heresies' his belief in the unity of man as soul, spirit, and body and in the death of the whole man and his subsequent resurrection. Conklin, however, having indicated in his preface that he means by heresy little more than a minority opinion, goes on to say that the philological authority for .Milton's interpretation of the 13ible on this point is 'unquestionable' ; and he points out that Luther not only held a similar view but denounced the immortality of the soul along with belief in the world dominion of the pope as 'monstrous opinions' found in the 'Roman dunghill of decretals'. sa

The materialism of Hobbes may have influenced him in the direction of this aspect of Reformation and later Protestant thought, , but it is by no means clear that the materialism was decisive. ' Hobbes was not an atomist and might have found room for a separate and even immortal soul in his system as a subtle kind of body. On the question of the intermediate state between death and Judgment, Nathaniel H. Henry distinguishes the view of Hobbes from that of Milton and declares Hobbes to be much closer to orthodox Calvinism.64 Space forbids any detailed discussion of the eschatological theories of Hobbes ; but even here, where he defends minority positions, as he does in his denial that the Bible teaches the everlasting torment of the wicked, it is dangerous to conclude without investigation that his claim to Biblical authority is rash or insincere. In the matter of the fate of the wicked, for instance, as in his denial of the immortal soul in favour of a doctrine of resurrection, Hobbes finds support among the best Biblical scholars and theologians of twentieth-century Protestantism. Henry is exaggerating, but hardly more. than that, when he says that theology was 'practised at its scholarly best by Milton and Hobbes'.60

62 \'V'illey, op. cit., pp. 100-106 and pp. 154-155. •

63 George Newton Conklin, Biblical Criticism and Heresy in Milton (New York, 1 949), pp. 75-84.

64 Nathaniel H. Henry, 'Milton and Hobbes: Mortalisrn and the Intermediate State, ' Studies itt PU!ology. XLVIII (1951), pp. 241-244. This is an excellent article of the sort that is needed in order to arrive at a clearer picture of the religious views of Hobbes.

•• Ibid., p. 249.

168 WILLIS B. GLOVER

The legend of Hobbes the atheist is doomed except as a historical curiosity, and the task of re-examining his political philosophy in the theistic context in which Hobbes developed it has already begun. Warrender and Oakeshott have made especi­ally noteworthy contributions to the necessary re-assessment. The latter's brilliant Introduction to the Leviathan is particularly significant for placing Hobbes in a distinctively Christian tradition of political philosophy. Oakeshott, who credits Hobbes with being the greatest of English political philosophers, goes so far as to say :

The greatness of Hobbes is . . . that he constructed a political philosophy that reflected the changes in the European intellectual consciousness which had been pioneered chiefly by the theologians of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. 66

In the light of the radically new approach to Hobbes suggested by this statement, it is obvious that much work remains to be done, not only on Hobbes, but on the intellectual milieu in which he lived and wrote. 67

•• Oakeshott, loc. cit., p. liii. Omission of the fourteenth-century theologians from this statement is hard to explain.

"' Since this article was written there has come to the attention of the author an article by Mr. Keith Brown discussing the rational basis for Hobbes's theism: 'Hobbes's Grounds for Belief in a Deity', Philosophy, XXXVII (1962), pp. 336-344. Mr. Brown supports the present article at several points, although his thesis, that Hobbes based his belief in God on a form of the argument from design (which he relates to the argument from causation), is an aspect of Hobbes's thought not dealt with here.

8

H OB B E S ' S B O U R G E O I S M A N *

C. B. Macpherson

HOBBES is as renowned a name in political science as is

Adam Smith in economics. Accordingly, prevailing notions of what Hobbes meant to say have varied from time to time. While his materialist utilitarianism has been a strong current since he propounded it, Hobbes's modern reputation dates from the re-emphasis on sovereignty and utilitarian morals by the Benthamists. The reaction against Benthamism led to strong criti­cism of Hobbes by English idealists such as T. H. Green. Their criticism of his materialist metaphysics and ofhis behaviourist ethics set the tone of the standard treatme�t of Hobbes, and seemed to have rendered his political views harmless. As long as Hobbes was regarded as primarily a materialist and his political doctrines were seen as consistent deductions from his materialist position, it was relatively easy to dispose of his unpleasant theory ot the state, for materialism has had little standing in English pqlitical thinking since the eighteenth century when the historical mater­ialism of Millar, Ferguson, and Robertson enjoyed some prestige.1

* [This article first appeared under the title 'Hobbes Today' in the Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science, November 1945. That title, not i nforrnative then, would be misleading now, for the article, here printed in its original form, takes no account of subsequent contributions to Hobbes scholarship. Some account is taken of these in the author's more recent work on Hobbes, which comprises Chapter II of his The Political Theory of Possessive Individualiim: Hobbes to Locke (Oxford, Oarendon Press. 1962).

The two treatments deal with different ranges of problems. The article attempts to bridge the gulf which earlier writers had opened up between Hobbes's materialism and his political theory ; the book is more concerned to bridge the gulf later opened up between his psychological principles and his theory of obligation. The central hypothesis of the article, that Hobbes's man was bourgeois man and his society a series of market relations, i s retained and developed more fully in the book.]

1 See Roy Pascal, 'Property and Society, the Scottish Historical School of the Eighteenth Century' (The Modern Quarterly, Vol. I , no 2, March, 1938). Pascal points out (p. 178) that their emphasis on property relationships as the basis of society took on a different significance in the nineteenth century with the develop­ment of an organized proletariat, and so was avoided by bourgeois writers.

170 C . B . M A CP H E R S O N

Hobbes's stature, however, was too great for his political ideas to be tidied away in this fashion. Later generations of scholars set out to detach Hobbes's political theory from his materialism. Croom Robertson in 1 886, John Laird in 1 934, and Leo Strauss in 1936 h ave taken the position that Hobbes's political philosophy was not derived from his materialism or decisively influenced by his concept ot science. 2 While it is possible to show that Hobbes might have reached his political conclusions from certain moral attitudes and preconceptions unrelated to material­ism or science, this position raises other difficulties. In view of the emphasis which Hobbes placed on his materialism and in view of his insistence on the scit'ntific nature of his method it seems unsatisfactory to dismiss these attributes of his thought as merely his share in the current intellectual fashion, especially when the result is to say, as does John Laird,3 that his thought is mediaeval, or, as with some current text-book writers, to leave his theory rootless and unexplained except as the reaction of a timid man to the disturbed political conditions of his time.

A clue to a different understanding of these matters is to be found in all three of Hobbes's constructions of his political philosophy.4 It is the fact, remarked by a few writers/' that Hobbes's morality is e-ssentially a bourgeois morality. When this is followed back it can be seen that Hobbes's analysis of human nature, from which his whole political theory is derived, i s really an analysis of bourgeois man ; that the assumptions, explicit and implicit, upon which his psychological conclusions depend are assumptions peculiarly valid for bourgeois society. Considered

2 G. C. Robertson, Hobbes (London, 1 910), p. 57; John Laird, Hobbes (London, 1934), p. 57 ; Leo Strauss, The Politkal Philosophy of Hobbes, Its Basis and Genesis (Oxford, 1936), p. xiii, 170. Leslie Stephen in his pleasant volume (Hobbes, London, 1904) dismisses the problem as of no importance (p. 73). A. E. Taylor (Thomas Hobbes, 1 908), while praising Hobbes as a 'consistent philosophical material­ist,' argues that there is 'no real logical connection between Hobbes's metaphysical materialism and his ethical and political docttine of human conduct' (pp. 44-5) and concludes that 'the only advantage which Hobbes really derives from his materialism is that it furnishes him with a plausible excuse for his refusal to take theology seriously' (p. 45).

• Laird, Hobbes, p. 57. 4 (1) The Elements of Law Natural and Politic, circulated in manuscript in 1 640,

published in 1650 as two treatises (Human Nature, and De Corpore Politico), edited and published under its original title by F. Tonnics, Cambridge, 1928 (subsequent references are to this edition) ; (2) De Cive, 1642, of which an English version was published in 1651 under the title Philosophical Rudiments Concerning Gouernment and Society (subsequent references are to the Rt�dimmts as published in E. W. II), (3) Lez•iatban, 1651 .

5 Especially Strauss ; The Politkal Pbilosop�y of Hobbes, p. 121 .

H O B B E S ' s B O U R G E O I S M A :-;! 171

from this point of view, his materialism falls into place under­standably. It is not necessary either to minimize its place in his thought or to make it the whole explanation. And this approach may afford a new view of the strength and weakness of his political thinking and of its relevance to-day.

I

Even those who disagree fundamentally with Hobbes's analysis show a remarkable respect for it. We do well to be afraid of Hobbes ; he knows too much about us. What more accurate and more displeasing picture of ourselves could we have than that which, Hobbes says, 'they who shall more narrowly look into the causes for which men come together, and delight in each other's company, shall easily find . . . .'

How, by what advice, men do meet, will be best known by observing those things which they do when they are met. For if they meet for traffic, it is plain every man regards not his fellow, but his business ; if to discharge some office, a certain market-friendship is begotten, which hath more of jealousy in it than true love, and whence factions sometimes may arise, but good will never ; if for pleasure and recreation of mind, every man is wont to please himself most with those things which stir up laughter, whence he may, according to the nature of that which is ridiculous, by comparison of another man's defects and infirmities, pass the more current in his own opinion. And although this be sometimes innocent and without offence, yet it is manifest they are not so much delighted with the society, as their own vain glory. But for the most part, in these kinds of meeting we wound the absent; their whole life, sayings, actions, are examined, judged, condemned. Nay, it is very rare but some present receive a fling as soon as they part ; so as his reason was not ill, who was wont always at parting to go out last. And these are indeed the true delights of society, unto which we are carried by nature, that is, by those passions which are incident to all creatures . . . . 6

This passage will serve as well as any to indicate the emphasis which Hobbes puts on pride, or vain glory, as a basic drive of the individual. For Hobbes is here not merely describing the character of men as he found them in contemporary society; he is

6 E . W. II, pp. 3-4.

172 C. B . M A C P H E R S O N

attributing these characteristics to man's eternal nature. The point he is making is that man is not by nature a social animal. 'We do not . . . by nature seek society for its own sake, but that we may receive some honour or profit from it; those we desire­primarily, that secondarily'. 7 Again, 'all free congress ariseth either from mutual poverty, or from vain glory . . . ' Men come together for their own good, which relates either to the senses or the mind. 'But all the mind's pleasure is either glory, (or to have a good opinion of one's self), or refers to glory in the end ; the rest are sensual or conducing to sensuality . . . . All society there­fore is either for gain or for glory . . . . But no society can be great or lasting which begins from vain glory. Because that glory is like honour ; if all men have it no man hath it, for they consist in comparison and precellence. . . . Though the benefits of this life may be much furthered by mutual help, . . . yet those may be better attained to by dominion than by the society of others: Dominion therefore, not society, is natural ; without fear there could be no society but only the struggle of each for power over others. 'We must therefore resolve, that the original of all great and lasting societies consisted not in the mutual good will men had towards each other, but in the mutual fear they had of each other.'8

In all his treatments of motivation, as in the pass.age quoted, Hobbes gives roughly equal prominence to gain and glory, concupiscence and vanity. These he postulates as the basic drives which lie behind that search for power and its obverse, the fear of others, from which Hobbes's political theory directly flows. They deserve further notice. 9

Vanity or vainglory is no doubt an old trait, yet it is difficult to read Hobbes's various treatmeQ.ts10 of the theme without seeing in them a generalization of the specifically modern form : the incessant desire for recognition as an individual superior to others. Not only does glory consist in 'comparison and pre­cellence', but the individual search for glory knows no bounds. 'For every man looketh that his companion should value him, at

' Ibid., p. 3. 8 Ibid., pp. 4-6. 9 The importance of vanity in Hobbes's analysis has not been sufficiently

emphasized except by Strauss who argues that it is the most important postulate. Leviathan is the king of the proud.

10 De Cive, 1, 2-5 ; Elements, I, cbs. 9, 14; Leviathan, pp. 36, 64-65, 81.

H OB B E S ' S B O U R GE O I S M A N 1 73

the same rate he sets upon himselfe : And upon all signes of contempt, or undervaluing, naturally endeavours, as far as he dares (which amongst them that have no common power to keep them in quiet, is far enough to make them destroy each other), to extort a greater value from his contemners, by damage; and from others, by the example.'11 Hobbes is attributing to human nature in the abstract a quality which is largely a product of the social relationships set up among members of the upper classes by the Renaissance encroachments of capitalism on the older society.12 With the development of capitalist relationships, with the freeing of more classes of men from the old social bonds, this ambition or striving for vain glory has become a widespread characteristic. So Hobbes's picture may be called an unpleasantly accurate analysis not of man as such, but of man since the rise of bourgeois society.

Look now at Hobbes's other basic postulate. It is, not merely that men seek material gain, but that the competitive search for gain is a constant drive dominating the whole character of the individual. 'The most frequent reason why men desire to hurt each other, ariseth hence, that many men at the same time have an appetite to the same thing; which yet very often they can neither enjoy in common, nor yet divide it; when it follows that the strongest must have it, and who is strongest i s decided by the sword'.13 Hence again the fear each has of the other where there is no power able to overawe them all, and hence each man's need to be a member of a society which will have that power. The postulate of the dominance of competitive material appetites is crucial to Hobbes's theory of the state. And it is clearly derived from the behaviour of man in bourgeois society. The argument is that men are fundamentally hostile to each other because they have appetites for things which they cannot enjoy in common, and of which there is such scarcity that all who want them can not have them. It may be said that this scarcity has always existed, but Hobbl"s's assumption is that men are so conscious of it, and are so determined to avoid it for their part, that their actions are

11 I....eviathan, p. 81 . u a. Burckhardt's analysis of the desire for personal fame as a product of

Renaissance society in Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (London, 1928), part II, ch. 3.

13 E. W. II, p. 8; cf. FJemenls, I, 14, sec. 5, and Leviathan, p. 81.

174 c : B . M AC PH E R S O N

dominated by this consciousness. This is the mark of bourgeois society, in contrast to pre-capitalist societies.14

We need not be surprised, then, that to Hobbes, all the relations between men tend to be the relations of the market. 'The Valtte, or Worth of a man, is as of all other things, his Price ; that is to say, &o much as would be given for the use of his Power: and therefore is not abs0lute ; but a thing depenpent on the need and judgment of another . . . . And as in other things, so in men, not the seller, but the buyer determines the Price.'15 And again : 'The manifestation of the Value we set on one another is that which is commonly called Honouring or Dishonouring. To Value a man at a high rate, is to Honottr him . . . . Nor does it alter the case of Honour, whether an action (so it be great and difficult, and consequently a signe of much power), be just or unjust : for Honour consisteth onely in the opinion of Power'.16 Thus the relations of power between men, are se<'n in terms of the market. Hobbes is aswming the 'anarchy' of capitalist societyY

The anarchy of the market, which tends to be the form (though not the substance) of all social relations in capitalist society, i s only possible, as the classical economists from Adam Smith to. Marx pointed out, if there is an authority, the State, to maintain the bourgeois freedoms (contract, labour, exchange, and ad::umu­lation) against the demands of those who are dispossessed and ag:;�inst other national societies. This was explicitly Hobbes's doctrine. 'It is not enough, for a man to labour for the mainten­ance of his life ; but also to fight, (if need be), for the securing of

14 Tawney in his Religion and the Rise of Capitalism has given a classic picture of the contrast, in discussing the assumptions from which the mediaeval writers could start when building a social doctrine to cope with the effects of the growth of commercial economy within the mediaeval structure. 'Their fundamental assump­tions . . . were two: that economic interests are subordinate to the real business of life, which is salvation, and that economic conduct is one aspect of personal conduct, upon which, as on other parts of it, the rules of morality are binding . . . . At every turn, therefore, there are limits, restrictions, warnings against allowing economic interests to interfere with serious affairs' (pp. 31-Z). That such restrictions and warn­ings were necessary is an indication of the extent to which commerce was disrupting mediaeval society in the later Middle Ages; that the restrictions could be, with some success until the Reformation, based on the assumption that economic interests are subordinate, is an indication of the basically different mediaeval attitude.

15 Leviatban, p. 57. 16 Ibid., p. 57, 60. 17 The speciftcally economic relations of man with man are also reduced to

terms of the free market and free contract. 'The value of all things contracted for, is measured by the Appetite of the Contractors ; and therefore the just value, is that which they be contented to give' (Ln•iathan, p. 98); and 'a mans Labour also is a commodity exchangeable for benefit, as well as any other thing '(ibid., p. 161 .)

H OB B E S ' S B O U R G E O I S M A N 1 75

his labour. They must either do as the Jewes did after their return from captivity, in re-edifying the Temple, build with one hand, and hold the Sword in the other, or else they must hire others to fight for them. For the Impositions, that are laid on the people by the Soveraign Power, are nothing else but the Wages, due to them that hold the publique Sword, to defend private men in the exercise of severall Trades, and Callings'.18 Similarly in the Rudiments : 'What is brought by the subjects to public use, i s nothing else but the price of their bought peace . . . ,' and taxes are the payment to 'those who watch in arms for us' without which individual men could not procure their private fortunes.19

Consistently with this early bourgeois view of the state, Hobbes argues that taxation should be in proportion to benefits. 'Although all equally enjoy peace, yet the benefits springing from thence are not equal to all ; for some get greater possessions, others less ; and again, some consume less, others more'.20 He recom­mends that taxation be on consumption rather than on income or property, basing his preference on the tendency of consumption taxes to encourage frugality and accumulation, as well as their seeming 'least to trouble the mind of them that pay it'.21 This view of taxation, and especially the recommendation of taxation of consumption, reflects an entirely different view of sqciety from the functional view which prevailed as late as the Tudor period, whereby the poor were considered to have fulfilled their obligation to the state by working.22

There is much other evidence that Hobbes's morality is the morality of the bourgeois world and that his state is the bourgeois state. There is his attitude towards the poor, his view of thrift and extravagance, his insistence that the state should institute private property and provide treedom for individual enrichment, his expectation that the sovereign will provide for equality before the law. 23 And while he was critical of the concentration ot wealth by monopolies and of 'the great number of corporations', 24 he took it for granted that the sovereign state would permit individuals such bourgeois freedoms as 'the Liberty to buy, and

18 Leviathan, p. 226. 19 E.W. II, p. 173, 159. 20 E. 117. II, p. 174. 21 Elements, II, 9, sec. 5; cf. E. W. II, p. 174, and Leviathan, p. 226. 22 Cf. M. James, Social Problems and Policy during the Puritan Revolution (London,

1930), p. 245. 23 These and other points are conveniently brought together by Strauss, The

Political Philosophy of Hobbes, pp. 1 18-23. 2< Leviathan, p. 218.

176 C . B . M A C P H E R S O N

sell, and otherwise contract with one another ; t o choose their own aboad, their own diet, their own trade of life, and institute their children as they themselves think fit ; and the like. '25

These indications that Hobbes had a fairly clear view of the political needs of the bourgeois society of his time need only be mentioned here ; it is of more importance to emphasize that the premises from which Hobbes deduces his psychology and his view of the state are drawn from the picture of man as he has been shaped by the relationships of bourgeois sodety.26

The content, in other words, of the basic human drives which Hobbes postulates is peculiarly a bourgeois content. Only because of this does he move to his drastic political conclusions. This might be shown in detail at each stage of his argument but it is enough to summarize here his first steps. The desire for glory is the desire to be recognized as a superior individual, not merely to share in the prestige customarily accorded to a superior rank or status. It leads therefore to an unending individual struggle for power. The desire for gain is the competitive search to gratify material appetites, necessarily at the expense of others since there is not enough to satisfy all. The novelty of Hobbes's assumption is the novelty of the bourgeois view, that material appetites are boundless and that no moral restraint can or need be placed on them. 'Covetousnesse of great Riches, and a!Ilbition of great Honours, are Honourable ; as signes of power to obtain them.' 'Riches, are Honourable ; for they are power'.27

The desires for glory and gain, when given this peculiar content.- lead directly to the famous proposition that the first general inclination of all mankind is 'a perpetua1 and restless desire of power after power, that ceaseth only in death.'28 From them too may be deduced the proposition of the universality of fear

· where there is no power to overawe all men, although Hobbes sometimes presents this as the result of a fixed aversion to violent

•• Leviathan, p. 139. •• Strauss in the work cited, while saying that Hobbes founded 'the ideal of

civilization in its modern form, the ideal both of the bourgeois-capitalist develop­ment and of the socialist movement' (p. 1), is concerned mainly to argue that Hobbes's fundamental view of human life has its origin in his actwU experience of how men behave in daily life, which experience in turn 'must be traced back to a specific moral attitude which compels its holder to experience and see man in Hobbes's particular way' (p. xiv). I am suggesting that the moral attitude itself is to be explained in terms of Hobbes's experience of a society in which bourgeois morals had been making their way sioce the beginning of the Renaissance.

21 Le1>iathan, p. 60, 59. 08 Leviathan, p. 64.

H O B B E S'

S B O U R G E O I S M A N 177 death. From these two propositions, and from the premise that man is rational to the extent that he can calculate the consequences of his actions, the whole of Hobbes's political structure is in tum deduced. Even this rationality has a mercantile flavour ; it is not the rationality premissed by Aristotle or Grotius whereby men were capable of living in accordance with rules of social conduct; it is not strong enough to withstand the force of competitive appetites, only strong enough to show men that they must submit to a sovereign to avoid worse. Thus the bourgeois assumptions which are found in the premises of Hobbes's thought lead to the erection of the sovereign state.

II

When Hobbes's thought is seen in this light it is possible to suggest a new view of the place of materialism and science in his political theory. We know that Hobbes wished his political philosophy to be regarded as the final part of a consistent system the first part of which was a mechanical materialist statement of

· laws of motion. He argued that the sciences of human nature and of politics could be deduced from 'the first part of philosophy, namely, geometry and physics'.29 He never attempted this task for he discovered a more feasible way. The psychological prin­ciples from which a political science could be deduced need not, he said, themselves be deduced from the laws of motion of material but could be obtained directly by self-examination.30

This did not mean that his materialist philosophy was cut off from his political thought. Nor does it indicate, as some have suggested, that his materialism was never vitally connected with his theory of human nature and politics. In making a fresh start from observation he did not forget the scientific concepts he had developed in thinking out the outlines of his whole materialist system. For one thing, he remained convinced that by applying his scientific method to politics he could get absolutely demon­strable principles ; politics could be reduced 'to the rules and infallibility of reason'.31 This was to be done by the deductive

as E.W. I, p. 74 so Ibid., pp. 73, 74; cf. Leviathan, introduction, p. 6. 31 Elements, Episde Dedicatory and ch. 1 . Cf. his references in Behemoth (Tonnies's

edition) to the duties of rulers and subjects as 'a science . . . built upon sure and clear principles' (p. 159), and to 'the infallible rules and the true science of equity and justice (p. 70). a. Leviathan, p. 136 and p. 241. Hobbes's classification of science as not absolute but conditional knowledge(Levia/han, p. 40) is notinconsistent

N

178 C . B . M A C P H E R S O N

method of mathematics, of which Hobbes had the highest opinion.32 Such a method requires self-evident first principles. These Hobbes maintained could be got directly from observation ; in the final presentation of his political theory he announced that self-observation was sufJicient.aa

Now it is clear that Hobbes drew his first principles of human nature not entirely from introspection but from observation of the actions of others ; his remarks quoted earlier (p. 1 71) as to 'the true delights of society' are one example of this. It is clear also that his postulates about human nature were not directly given by any observation but were the result of his finding a pattern in all the data of observation, a pattern formed by the bourgeois assumptions which we have seen were implicit. It is tempting to conclude from this that Hobbes's conception of the scientific method as the mathematical method had little effect on his political thought except to mislead him as to the method he was actually following and as to the validity of the propositions reached by that method. Such a conclusion must be rejected, though it would be in substantial agreement with the views reached on other grounds by Robertson, Laird, and Strauss as already mentioned. Strauss concludes34 that Hobbes's mathematical method and materialist metaphysics each contributed to disguise his original view of motivation and thus to undermine his political philosophy. But such a view overlooks important factors which lead to a different interpretation.

Consider first the effect of his mathematicai method, which in this context means his almost exclusive use of geometrical deduc­tion from first principles taken as self-evident. Such a method should make the first principles stand out clearly rather than disguise them, yet it may give a false certainty to the first prin­ciples. Hobbes's belief in the certainty of his postulates may be due in part to his mathematical approach, but fundamentally their inadequacy is due to the limitations imposed on his vision of man

with his belief in the possibility of reaGhing principles which arc absolute in the mathematical sense ; cf. LIWiathan, p. 53 'Knowledge of the Consequence of one A!firmation to anothttr • • . is called Science,· and is Conditional!; as when we know, that, If the figure shon'l1e be a circle, then an;• !fraight line through the Center shall divide it into !Jt•o equal! parts.' Hobbes calls mathematical propositions conditional ; I have referred to them as absolute, or absolutely demonstrable, to distinguish them from the proposi­tions of inductive natural science.

32 Elements, I, 13, sees. 3, 4,. 33 Leviathan, introduction, p. 6. 34 Political Philosophy of Hobbes, p. 170.

H O B B E S ' S B O U R G E O I S :\f AN 179

by his observation of a bourgeois society. There is no contra­diction here. The predominance of mathematical thinking in the seventeenth century is closely related to the rise of capitalism. Quantitative analysis of the material world, of which mathematics is the purest form, was demanded increasingly from the fifteenth century in the service of capitalist technology and of the nation­state. The bourgeois mind was apt to be a mathematical mind ; the mathematical mind was generally a bourgeois mind. The limita­tions of the one were the limitations of the other. The mathe­matical method is congruous with the reduction of all men to the equality of the market.

Consider secondly the effect of his materialist metaphysics on his political philosophy. It leads him to define all motives in mechanical terms and to reduce them to a few appetites and aversions, 'the small beginnings of Motion, within the body of Man, before they appear in . . . visible actions'.35 By stating in this form the generalizations which he made from observation, it may be thought that he complicated his presentation unnecessarily; the main lines of his thought are less clear in Leviathan than in the Rudiments, from which the mechanistic treatment of human nature is omitted. But Hobbes's materialism, rather than contributing to disguise his original view of human motivation and so to undermine his political theory, was an integral part of his original view of motivation. The materialism of the seventeenth century was a mechanical materialism which read into the natural world the kind of relations which the materialist philosophers saw in bourgeois society. The relation of material objects to each other could be stated in laws ot mechanical force just as the relations of individuals could be seen as the relations oi units reduced to equality by the market. The doctrine of final causes could be dropped from the analysis of the physical world by men who saw individuals as directed not by final causes but by the impersonal forces which appear to dominate the lives of individuals in the bourgeois society.

Hobbes's view of human motivation is consistent with and is supported by his materialist philosophy, since both were given by the same fundamental view of the universe. His materialism was so mechanical that it can easily be shown to be untenable, and in this sense it can be said that it weakened his political

35 Leviathan, p. 31.

180 C . B . M A C P H E R S O N

theory. But this i s an anachronistic judgment. With all its crudity his materialism was an advance. It made possible a deeper understanding of the new forces at work in society, as well as helping to destroy the ideological supports of the old order and to provide foundations for the kind of state necessary to contain and support capitalist development.

III

We have seen that Hobbes accepted and regarded as natural a pattern of social relationships and human behaviour which we know as one aspect of bourgeois society. To Hobbes the natural relations ot men are those in which each is reduced to equality of status and struggles against the others for recognition and material satisfactions. A man's worth is what others will give for his power; society is reduced to the market.

The market in terms of which Hobbes saw society was not the self-regulating market of laissez-faire. His society did not mani­fest an invisible hand. It had nothing of the natural harmony of which some of the eighteenth century philosophers were assured. Yet both Hobbes and the philosophers of the natural order have consistent pictures of bourgeois society. The difference corres­ponds to the different stages of development which the economy had reached. The concept of a natural order in society could not become dominant until capitalism had so far broken the restric­tions of feudal society that the possibility of a self-regulating market became apparent, or until the usefulness of science to capitalist development had been manifested on such a scale that the philosophy of a scientific order could be automatically accepted by the bourgeois mind. ss

The fact that Hobbes's thought does not reflect the self­regulating market economy must not be allowed to obscure the fact that it does reflect the earlier yet specifically capitalist market economy. He sees men as freed from those relationships of status and reciprocal aid which had given each of them a relatively secure and understandable place in the world before the rise of capitalism. He sees them, instead, engaged in a naked individual struggle for place and power and a foothold on security. What he did not see as a social force, and what bourgeois thought for the

88As it was by the eighteenth century. Cf. Morley's Diderot and the Enryclopeditts.

H O B B E S' S B O U R GE O I S M A N 181

next two centuries generally overlooked, 37 was that the individual in capitalist society is brought under new relationships of super­iority and subservience, apart from the state, in the measure that the old relationships are dissolved. The new relationships are largely determined by the individual's relation to capital. Those who control capital have power over those who do not; the latter can only use their labour as a commodity, offering it on the market to those who have capital. This is a relationship of social dependence of some individuals on others as real, if not as cohesive, as the feudal relationships. But it is not so obvious. The relation between persons in capitalist society, as Marx emphasized in his concept of 'commodity fetishism'38 is disguised as a relation between commodities. Production is carried on by individuals or groups for exchange ; the producers' significant dealings with each other are through the market ; in the market the individuals are related only as commodity-owners, whether the commodity is labour-power, capital, land, or a product. As commodity-owners they are free and equal ; each sells his commodity for its value, and the return he gets is determined by the apparently impersonal relations of the market. Thus in a developed capitalist economy the relations of dependence between persons have the appearance of impersonal relations between things. The acceptance of this appearance as the reality is one aspect of what Marx called com­modity fetishism.

Now commodity fetishism is to be found mainly in those minds which are thinking in terms of the self-regulating market, for it is there that the individuals most clearly seem to be ruled by the relations between their commodities, and that a natural order appears to be imposed by the market itself. But even before the emergence ot the concept of the self-regulating market, com­modity fetishism appeared in social thinking and had an important effect on Hobbes's thought. In Hobbes it takes the form of seeing individuals as free of all relations of mutual personal dependence, and so constituted that they are not fit for society, but only for the competitive struggle for existence, unless there is an artificially constructed power sufficient to overawe them all. 39 So a coercive

37 See the provocative argument of Christopher Caudwell, Studies in a Dying Culture (London, 1938).

as Capital (Kerr edition), vol. I, ch. 1 , sect. 4. Cf. Paul Sweezy, The Theory of Capitalist Development (New York, 1942), pp. 34-40.

39 Hobbes sees this as true not only for his fiction, the 'state of nature', from which all social motives are omitted by abstraction, but also for man in society. Cf. E. W. II, pp. 3-4, and Leviathan, p. 83.

1 82 C . B . M A C P H E R S O N

state built from a multitude o f isolated wills i s necessary. Fear of death and desire for more commodious living drive the individuals to it ; their ability to calculate the consequences of continuous atomic competition makes them capable of it ; but only a coercive state can prevent them backsliding from it.

The illusion that individuals are naturally free of all social ties and are constituted primarily for struggle is the illusion to which the undeveloped form of commodity fetishism easily leads. The difficulties and contradictions in Hobbes's theory of political obligation which have been pointed out by idealist philosophers might all be traced back to it. In Hobbes, the illusion is so closely related to mechanical materialism that it seems to be the result of it, but both are the result of his appreciation of only one aspect of capitalist social relations. The faults in his political theory which appear to be the result of his rigid mechanical materialism and his one-sided notion of scientific method may better be explained as the result of his imperfect appreciation ot the social relations of bourgeois society. The explanations are not inconsistent. For the extent to which his materialism was rigid and mechanical corresponds to the extent of his failure to see society as more than an artificial construction of isolated wills. In his natural as in his social philosophy, his failure was to see only an agglomer­ation of equal discrete units as the basis of relationships.

In spite of this failure, Hobbes understood the essential nature of bourgeois society more thoroughly than most of his contem­poraries and many of his successors. The continuing strength and the present pertinence of his political theory are due to this. For it is not entirely an illusion that in a capitalist society men are free from normal social ties except those imposed by the state. There is an obvious sense in which the individual in capitalist society is freer from social ties than the individual in any society based on status. The greater insecurity of men is a measure of their greater freedom. The social ties in capitalist society are real, being largely determined by the individual's relation to capital, but are not as cohesive as the social ties of other societies. The result is that on the whole a stronger state is necessary to maintain a capitalist society than is needed to maintain a society in which the social relationships are more obviously personal, or more obviously purposeful, and so more easily understandable. The latter society can be kept going by customary moral codes the

H O B B E S ' S B O U R G E O I S :\fAN 1 83

strength of which is automatically renewed because the relation­ships are visible and their value is readily perceptible. A capitalist society needs stronger political sanctions. It was Hobbes's supreme merit to see this and to urge it relentlessly.

If it is the acuteness of Hobbes's analysis of bourgeois man which made him the profoundest political thinker of the seven­teenth century, it was the same acuteness that led his political theory to be forgotten in favour of Locke's from the Whig Revolution through the eighteenth century, and that led to the revival of his concept of sovereignty by the Benthamists. The Whig Revolution had secured the political power of the eighteenth century bourgeoisie and there was no need or desire to raise the fundamental questions of political authority as long as that state was satisfactory. But when the Industrial Revolution brought a new section of industrial capital to the fore and revealed the Whig state to be inadequate to the market relationships which the new capitalism required, fundamental questions had again to be raised. They were raised by insisting again on the atomic com­petitive individual as the basic unit of society. The confusion in the Benthamist theory of society, between the assumption of a natural harmony and the need for the state to create an artificial harmony between conflicting self-interests, comes from the Benthamist failure to resolve into a consistent theory the two views of society, one inherited from Hobbes, the other from the eighteenth-century optimists. The failure is understandable, reflecting a contradiction in the society they were analysing. The idealists' reaction against the crudities of nineteenth-century industrial society and of Benthamist theory drove them to a refutation of Hobbes which neglected the profundity of his analysis of bourgeois society. Hobb1 s's insight is more relevant in the twentieth century than at any time since he produced Leviathan. Modern attempts to go beyond Hobbes in the study of political obligation must still reckon with the basis of his argu­ment.

9

T H E S O CI A L ORI G I N S OF

H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T

Keith Thomas

EVER since the Earl of Clarendon commented upon his

'extreme malignity to the nobility'1 it has been customary to associate Hobbes with the social and political pretensions of the English middle

'classes. The general neglect into which his works

fell in the eighteenth century was subsequently attributed to their anti-aristocratic tone.2 Hobbes came to be regarded as the philosopher of the city and the market-place. ' We have heard of a village Hampden', said Sir Henry Maine, 'but a village Hobbes is inconceivable'. 3 In due course Marxist terminology was invoked to characterise his thought, and Professor Strauss concluded in his influential study that Hobbes's 'political philo­sophy is directed against the aristocratic rules of life in the name of bourgeois rules of life':' For Miss Arendt, Hobbes was 'the only great philosopher to whom the bourgeoisie can rightly and exclusively lay claim',5 while Lucien Febvre described his thought as 'bourgeois d'essence, d'origine et d'esprit'.6 Most other modern commentators who have considered the problem have echoed this verdict. 7 It is unlikely that so many authori­ties can have been completely mistaken in this interpietation, and

1 A brief view and stif'Vey of • . . Mr. Hobbes'.r . . • Leviathan, Oxford, 1676, p. 181. • The minor works of George Grote . . . (ed.) A Bain. London, 1873, pp. 65-66. a Lectures on the ear!J history of institutions, London, 1875, p. 395. ' L. Strauss The political philosophy of Hobbes • • • , Oxford, 1936, p. 121 . 5 H. Arendt The origins of totalitarianism, New York, 1958, p. 139. 6 Annates d'Histoire economique et sociale, VI, 1934, p. 372. 7 E.g. F. Borkenau Der Ubergang vom feudalen '{!llfl biirgerlichen We/tbild . . . , Paris,

1934, p. 441 ; B. de Jouvenel Sovereignry . . • , trans. J. F. Huntington, Cambridge, 1957, p. 197; C. Hill Puritanism and revolution . . . , London, 1958, p. 290; C. B. Macpherson 'Hobbes today', 1'he Canadian Journal of Economics and Political Science, 1945, p. 525 (Prof. Macpherson's new interpretation of Hobbes as the theorist of 'the possessive market society' still involves attributing to him 'bourgeois values'. The political theory of possessive individualitm • . . , Oxford, 1962, p. 219).

1 86 K E I T H T H OM A S

there will he no ende-avour here to refute i t altogether. Indeed the position under review is in any case too imprecise to allow of clear refutation : bourgeois is not a term which can be translated into English, or easily adapted to fit any section of seventeenth century English society. Professor Strauss's analysis was based upon Hegel's conception of the bourgeoisie, which derives, as his English editor remarks, from a completely different political tradition. 8 Similarly Professor Macpherson is obviously indebted to Marx, yet attempts to fit the Marxist pattern of class structure to seventeenth century England usually involve classifying at least some of the gentry among the bourgeoisie, which makes it

. difficult to see

_where the bottrgeoisie ends and the aristocracy

hegms. Nor does 1t help to drop the term bourgeois and speak simply of 'the middle-class' or 'the middle-class outlook', for the term is notoriously vague and it is far from clear that the fluid structure of seventeenth century English society generated distinct ethical or political codes peculiar to different classes. Simple models of 'aristocratic virtue' and 'middle-class virtue' can be dismissed as grossly unhistorical, if only because the English middle classes have been notoriously imitative of their social superiors.

. Most �re:ious commentators have, therefore, had to proceed

w1th a prtorz models of conduct appropriate to different social classe�. These models have sometimes been elaborately justified, somet�mes taken for granted; in either case they have necessarily been madequate, so long as the basic sociological analysis of seventeenth century English society remains to be carried out, and so long as the association of different ethical codes with different social classes is an unproved assumption. At the moment, therefore, any move to reconstruct the social affiliations of Hobbes's thought must necessarily be of a tentative kind. An attempt will be made here to identify some of the actual elements in seventeenth century society from which Hobbes derived his assumptions and to which his recommendations were likely to

Brief protests �gainst this view of Hobbes have been made by Mr. David Ogg (_The ()_xford Afa,l!azme, 26 February 282), Prof. Michael Oakeshott(Rationalism m po!tttc.r . • . , London, 1962, pp. 289 and Mr. R. A. Nisbet (Communiry a11d power New York, 1962, pp. 138-139).

'

[Prof. M�cpherson's article 'Hobbes today', re-titled, forms the preceding chapter of thts volume. Ed.]

8 T. M. Knox (cd.) Hegel's Philosop�y of Right, Oxford, 1945, p. 376.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 1 87

have appealed. The results, however incon�lusive, may help to prevent future commentators from automatically characterising Hobbes's thought as bourgeoi.r and thereby over-simplifying what is a highly complex position.

* * *

. Commentators usually begin their analysis by drawing atten­

tiOn not to Hobbes's recommendations but to the kind of human nature :md society which is reflected in his writings. Thus it has been sa1d that Hobbes observed not man but 'bourgeois man'9 or homo oeconomicu.r,10 and that his citizens inhabited 'a possessive market society'.11 One must therefore ask how far the lineaments of the society with which Hobbes thought himself concerned accord with this description.

The impression which Hobbes's writings convey is that he took for

. granted a relatively advanced economy, where men may sell

thetr lahour, 12 where the market is a stimulus to the increase of manufactures, 13 and where 'all things obey money' .14 Titles of honour

. are available to moneyed men,I5 and riches, if not always

power m themselves, are at least a sign of it.1s Nevertheless, there is no mention of the role of capital (although Hohhes's antipathy to direct taxation17 may be said to favour capital accumulation) and, as in any underdeveloped society, labour is indisputably :he basic factor of production: 'plenty dependeth, next to God s favour, merely on the labour and industry of men.'18 Consequently, a large population is thought to be desirable, whatever the ultimate risk of over-population.I9 As for riches, they still come not from investment, hut from 'thrift', 2o and although poverty may result from misfortune it is more likely to be caused by folly, sloth or luxury.21 The ultimate

• Macpherson 'Hobbes today', p. 525. [See Ch. 8, p. 170, above.] 10 De Jouvenel Sovereign�y, p. 239. 11 Macpherson The political theoty of possessive individualism, passim. 12 E. W. III, p. 233. 13 E. W. III, p. 338. 14 E. W. II, p. 176. 15_Behet;J�th, ed. F. T6nnies, London, 1889, p. 4. All subsequent references are

to this edttton. 16 L. W. III, p. 72. a. E.W. III, p. 79. 17 E. W. II, pp. 173-174; E.W. III, p. 334. 18 E.W. III, p. 232. Cf. L.W. III, p. 247. 19 Elements, p. 143; E.W. JIT, p. 335. 20 E.W. II, p. 176. Cf. E.W. II, pp. 159, 174. 21 E. W. II, pp. 121, 127, 173. I can find no textual reference in support of

Prof. Macpherson's asset;tion (T�e pol�licfl theory of possessive individualism, l?· 85) that for Hobbes human equahty conststed tn the equal subordination of every mdividual to the laws of the market'.

188 K E I T H T H O M A S

economic goal seems to be represented by the Dutch, who grew rich as a trading nation without any natural resources, 22 and this reminds us that, although Hobbes considered his society to be steadily progressing, 23 it belongs firmly to the pre-industrial era.

Nor does there seem to have been anything very new about the state of affairs he was describing. 24 Violence in daily life still hindered commerce (when a man goes on a journey 'he arms himself, and seeks to go well accompanied'25) ; while the dis­tribution of property was not entirely controlled by market forces, but could be determined by the sovereign. 26 And, as a source of power, riches had to compete with knowledge, honour, nobility, reputation, friends and even natural beauty.27 By comparison with so obvious a bourgeois theorist as Spinoza, who envisaged the total abolition of landed property so that everyone might engage in trade, 28 Hobbes has a decidedly old-fashioned look.

In his analysis of the social hierarchy, however, Hobbes appears more radical. He is unequivocal in his view that all class differences stem from convenience and agreement, rather than from innate differences of blood, race or capacity.29 He does not deny that men differ in ability and that some are gifted with extraordinary natural endowments,30 but he regards these differ­ences as in no sense the cause of existing social distinctions. Nor does he consider that custom justifies any form of social subordin­ation.31 It has therefore been asserted that Hobbes regards men as entirely free from relationships based on status. 32 But there are traces in his writings of a patriarchalism which he did not succeed in justifying in wholly contractual terms. His effort, for example, to base the institution of the family upon considerations of utility, by arguing that the child agrees to submit to the power

22 E. W. II, p. 176 ; III. p. 233. 23 E. W. III, pp. 342, 712. 24 Prof. Macpherson's argument (The political theory of possessive individualism,

pp. 88-89, 105) seems to require that there should have been, although he says in 'Hobbes today' (p. 529 n. 26) [See Ch. 8, p. 176, above.] that the influx of bovrgeois values went back to the Renaissance.

2" E.W. III, p. 114. 26 E. W. III, pp. 233-234, 237. But there are problems here. In L. W. III (p. 186)

Hobbes limits the sovereign's activities to the distribution of new land found, or acquired in war. In E. W. III (p. 131) he speaks of 'that propriety, which by mutual contract men acquire'.

27 Elements, pp. 26-27; E. W. III, pp. 61, 74. 28 The political works . . . (ed.) A. G. Wernham, Oxford, 1958, pp. 321, 341. 29 E. W. I, p. 8; E. W. II, p. 38; E. W. III, pp. 140-141, 283. 30 E. W. III, p. 74. 31 Elements, p. 72. 32 Macpherson 'Hobbes today', p. 532. [Ch. 8 p. 180, above],

S O C I A L O R I G IN S O F H OB BE S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 189

which protects it,33 was ultimately unsuccessful ; for, as Thomas Hardy observes in Tess of the d'Urbervilles, and as Hobbes himself concedes elsewhere, it is impossible to see how infants can consent to anything.34 Indeed, his views on the rights and duties of parents and children can only be fully understood as the product of a society in which patriarchal ideals were still living ones. For, although he refutes the simple patriarchal theory of government, 35 he considers that paternal government was created by God,36 and that the father, who was absolute lord over his family in the state of nature,37 still retains �n the civil state those powers over his children and servants which the sovereign has not specifically taken away.38 It is thus a law of nature to honour one's parents,a9 who should be given 'the honour of a sovereign'.40 No man is obliged to accuse his parent,41 a son would rather die than obey a command to execute his father,42 and the state is to treat parricide as a greater offence than murder.43 Coming from a philosopher who is normally thought of as having put all human relations on to a contractual basis, such statements are a powerful reminder of the strength of the family bond in the seventeenth century. They are most probably to be explained as the product of a society where the household was still the basic unit of production, and where an ethical code based on kinship and requiring such extreme measures as the avenging of a father's murder by his sons,44 was only gradually decaying.

The picture of human nature which Hobbes constructs is like­wise reminiscent of a feudal society, or at least of one in which status is all-important. Professor Macpherson suggests that for Hobbes the goal of individual activity is 'wealth and power' .45 But

33 E.W. III, p. 186. - "'4 'All these young souls were passengers in the Durbeyfield ship-entirely

dependent on the judgment of the two Durbeyfield adults for their pleasures, their necessities, their health, even their existence . . . six helpless creatures, who had never been asked if they wished for life on any terms, much less if they wished for it on such hard conditions as were involved in being of the shiftless house of Durbeyfield.' Cf. E. W. III, p. 257.

•• E. W. III, pp. 60, 191. 36 E.W. II, p. 129. s1 E. W. VI, p. 147. 38 E. W. III, pp. 222, 329. 39 E. W. II, p. 119; E. W. III, p. 329. 40 E. W. III, pp. 295-296. 41 E. W. II, p. 26 ; E. W. III, p. 128. 42 E. f17. II, p. 83. 43 E. W. III, p. 295. 44 F. T. Bowers Elizabethan revenge tragetfy, 1587-1642, Gloucester, Mass., 1959,

pp. 38-40. Cf. P. Laslett (ed.) Patriarcha and other political works of Sir Robert Filmer, Oxford, 1949, pp. 20-28.

•• The political theory of possessive individualism, p. 207. This statement, however, is presumably based on the assumption that the desire for power includes the desire for honour (p. 44).

1 90 K E I T H T H O M A S

the obsessive passion o f Hobbes's men seems to be not acquisitive­ness, but pride. They inhabit a world where 'all the ple�sure and j ollity of the mind consists in this, even :o get s?me, wtth whom comparing, it may find somewhat wherem to tnumph and vaunt itself'.46 'Men take it heinously to be laughed at or derided', and · · f tru' d' h ' d o tempt'47 • 'there ts no greater vexatton o n t an scorn an c n , indeed 'most men would rather lose their lives . . . than suffer slander'.4S Some of Hobbes's contemporaries may have con­sidered that the most frequent cause of human contention was property,49 but for Hobbes �imself it �s

. 'h�nour �n? digni�y' for

which 'men are continually 1n competitiOn 50; thts mdeed 1s one of the attributes which distinguish men from beasts. 51

These men who take insults s o heinously, who so resent obligations to their equ�ls,52 and who even care for their children out of a hope to receive posthumous honour from them,63 are not very obviously recognizable as the denizens of a commercial world. They are ready to engage in money-making, it is true, yet not from possessiveness, but vanity, 'for their treasures serve them but for a looking-glass, wherein to behold and contemplate their own wisdom'. 54 Professor Macpherson argues that it is the growth of capitalism which, by emancipating men from their previous social bonds, makes social ambition so widespread a characteristic. 55 But a general sensitivity to reputation seems to have been a feature of a much older form of society. Dr. Ruth Benedict, for example, has portrayed the 'shame-culture' of the K wakiutl Indians, who are obsessed with self-esteem and recog­nise only one emotion, 'that which swings between victory and shame•.ss Similarly, the literature of the medieval Teutonic world suggests th�t reputation there was even more important than ties of blood.57 Even if it were true that it is only in the higher levels of these primitive societies that so extreme a value is set upon honour, this would not distinguish them from Hobbes's world. For he does not say that every one will sacrifice

•• E. W. II, p. 8. 47 Elements, p. 32; E. W. II, p. 8. •• E. W. II , p. 38; Cf. E. l/7. III, p. 140. . u John Hall of Richmond Of government and obedtence • • • • , London, 1654,

p. 9. so E. W. III, p. 1 56. 51 Elements, p. 79; E.W. III, p. 156. 52 E. W. III, p. 87. sa E. W. II, p. 123. 54 E. W. I, p. (xiv) . Cf. L. W. II, pp. 98-99. 55 'Hobbes today', p. 526. [See Ch. 8, p. 173, above.] •• Patterns of culture, London, 1961, chap. 6. 57 G. F. Jones Honor in German literature, Chapel Hill, [1959], p. 35.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 191

his life to his reputation, but only that 'most men' will do this : and these turn out to be those who live above the subsistence level. 'All men naturally strive for honour and preferment ; but chiefly they, who are least troubled with caring for necessary things', sa and 'who otherwise live at ease, without fear of want'. 59 In fact, in seventeenth century England only a minority came into this category, for between a quarter and a half of the popu­lation lived uneasily at subsistence level, while the truly prosper­ous were few indeed.60 Hobbes, who explicitly excluded the poor from this contention for honour, 61 \Vas . by implication conflning his analysis to that section of the population, 'who have most leisure to be idle'. 62 In thus limiting a serious concern for honour and reputation to a relatively aristocratic minority he had the opinion of contemporaries on his side.63

A ,f>reliminary glance at the society reflected in Hobbes's writings thus suggests that it differs in several important respects from the picture usually presented by his interpreters. In partic­ular the economv is somewhat less advanced than is usually , . suggested ; the social hierarchy, although largely contractual, still retains marked traces of patriarchalism; and the concern for reputation and honour in the upper . reaches of society is more marked than any desire for riches. Nevertheless, the growth of capitalism is reflected in the emancipation of individuals from many of the old customary bonds and in the obvious presence of acquisitive appetites. In fact, in Hobbes's world elem_ents of

.old

and new in social organisation are to be encountered s1de by s1de. It is only to be expected that his own social sympathies should reveal a similar transitional character.

* * *

Hobbes's apparent anti-aristocratic prejudices have received their fair share of attention from commentators. It has been pointed out that he explicitly denied that one man's blood was better than another's,64 and directly refuted the claims of the

•s E. l/7. II, p. 160. 59 Elemcnt.r, p. 134. , oo D. C. Coleman 'Labour in the English economy of the seventeenth century , EcomJmic History Revimv, 2nd. scr. VIII, 1956, pp. 283-284.

o1 EIV. pp. 67, 159-160. 02 E. l/7. II, p. 67. r oa JVorks of Robert Sanderson . . • (ed.) W. Jacobson, Oxford, 1854, \ ,

p. 1 1 2 ; Gumble The life rifRazeral Afonck, London, 1671, p. 72; R. Ashley Of honour (ed.) V. B. Heltzel, San Marino, Calif., 1947, p. 40.

"" Elements, p. 68 ; E. lP. III, p. 283.

192 K E I T H T H O M A S

peerage to be regarded as the Icing's natural counsellors. 'Good counsel comes not by lot, nor by inheritance' ;65 hence the appoint­ment of the Earl of Arundel as the King's general against the Scots, on the grounds that one of his ancestors had distinguished himself in a similar campaign, is described in Behemoth as 'but a foolish superstition'. 66 Similarly Hobbes displays great concern lest justice be perverted by the influence of the rich and powerful ; and, condemning the maintenance of private armies and superfluous retainers,67 he inveighs against the pre­sumption of the great that their misdemeanou�s sh?uld be treated more leniently than those of the vulgar. For the vwlences, oppressions, and injuries they do, are not extenuated, but aggra­vated by the greatness of their persons.'68

Yet his hostility to the nobility should not be exaggerated. Much of what he had to say amounted to no more than a con­ventional attack upon the decaying relics of bastard feudalism, and was by no means out of keeping with the mood of cultivated aristocratic society either before or after the Civil Wars. The extent to which the mid-seventeenth century nobility retained vestiges of their former military p�wer

_is uncertain, but it �s clear

enough that their estates were pnmanly a source o� soc1al an_d

economic rather than military strength. The derual of theu military pretensions by Hobbes was, therefore, far from equiva­lent to the denial of the claims of nobility altogether. Unlike Spinoza, 69 Hobbes makes no attempt to urge that the nobili�y should be abolished and his attitude to the House of Lords 1s often more sympathetic than his reference in Behemoth to their 'war-like and savage natures' might suggest. 70 Thus, one of the features of 'the excellent constitution of the courts of justice' which Hobbes commends is the privilege of the Lords to be judged by their own peers. 71 Indeed he cites the exa;nple of the House of Lords in its judicial capacity to show that difficult cases can be satisfactorily determined by judges who are not pro­fessional lawyers. 72 Even his remarks on counsel can be regarded as but an application of the old Renaissance principle, which had found much favour in aristocratic circles , that virtue rather than birth constituted true nobility. After all, the hollow pretensions

86 E. w. III, p. 340. 66 p. 31. "7 E.W. III, p. 224. ss E.W. III, p. 333. a. pp. 283, 290, 332. &9 Political works, p. 351. 70 p. 69. 71 E.W. III, pp. 229-230. n E. W. III, p. 268.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 193

of the Earl of Arundel had been similarly exposed by Clarendon in his History. 73

-

Still more striking is the series of concessions which Hobbes makes to the old aristocratic code. According to aristocratic theory, for example, it was essential that a gentleman should devote some effort to winning the esteem of his fellows. Sensi­tivity to reputation and a concern for posthumous fame lay at the heart of aristocratic morality, for to lose one's reputation was to lose the 'immortal part'.74 Hobbes was by no means unsympathetic to this preoccupation. For him indifference to reputation was impudence, that is to say shamelessness. 75 (Hence blushing in young men was to be commended, as 'a sign of the love of good reputation'. 76) He was aware, moreover, that with the cult of reputation went some sort of hierarchy, since honour consists 'in comparison and precellence' and 'if all men have it no man hath it.' Not only did he countenance titles of honour;77 he was even prepared to elevate a man's concern for his reputation into a natural right, so that a citizen could refuse to carry out a shameful action if another could discharge the same command without incurring ignominy. Thus a son could refuse the injunc­tion to execute his father, rather than 'live infamous and hated of all the world'. 78 There were, thought Hobbes, 'many other cases' of this kind.

Nor does Hobbes dismiss the aristocratic concern for post­humous fame as entirely absurd. True, one could be deceived by worldly fame into making a false estimate of oneself, or pusillani­mously relying on fame whether it was justified or not. 79 'Yet

73 The history r.if the rebellion . . . (ed.) W. D. Macray, Oxford, 1888, I, p. 70. But contrast Henry Peacham's opinion that the aristocracy should always be preferred to the common people in appointments and offices, The complete gentleman . . • (ed.) V. B. Heltzel, Ithaca, New York, 1962, p. 23.

74 See C. B. Watson Shakespeare and the Renaissanre concept of honor, Princeton, 1960, passim. Hobbes's acquaintance, the Duchess of Newcastle, provides a good example of this aspiration. See J. Gagen 'Honor and fame in the works of the Duchess ofNewcastle', Studies in Pbilolog;, LVI, 1959. Hobbes's favourable comments upon her ideas of honour and morality are to be found in Letters and poer11s in honour of the incomparable Princess, Afargaret, Dutcheu of Nwcastle, London, 1676, pp. 67-68.

75 E. W. III, p. 47. 76 Ibid., but cf. Elements, p. 29. 77 E.W. II, p. 5; E.W. III, p. 167. 78 E.W. II, pp. 82-83. In Hobbes's day this was no hypothetical situation.

D. Lloyd (Alemoires . . . . , London, 1668, p. 563) records how the son of a Royahst clergyman was forced in 1648 to take part in the execution of his father.

7� Elements, pp. 28, 36. The theorists of aristocratic honour were capable of similar discrimination. Cf. Ashley Of honour, p. 36, and Essayes by Sir William Comn,al/is, tbe yotmger (ed.) D. C. Allen, Baltimore, 1946, p. 28.

0

194 K E I T H T H O M A S

i s not such fame vain ; because men have a present delight therein, from the foresight of it, and of the benefit that may redound thereby to their posterity: which though they now see not, yet they imagine.'8° Furthermore, desire of praise and fame 'dis­poseth to laudable actions. '81 Hobbes's tributes to the fame of the Cavendish family in such works as his poem on the wonders of the Peak district are therefore not merely the conventional hypo­crisy of client to patron.

In one sphere, however, the aristocratic cult of honour produced consequences of which Hobbes did disapprove. The duel was a relatively recent institution, which had only taken root in England during the later sixteenth century, 82 but by Hobbes's day an elaborate duelling code existed ; and an increasing sensi­tivity to insult was becoming the hall-mark of the courtly class. The tone of the duelling code was extremely aristocratic : only a gentleman's honour could be preserved in this way, tradesmen having no 'honour' to defend. It was not surprising, therefore, that, apart from the preachers and moralists, who objected to the taking of life, the main source of opposition to the duel should have been the urban middle classes, who saw in violence a threat to property, and in the code of honour an elaborate excuse for not paying debts to tradesmen. 'Men of trade and corporations', said a preacher, 'understand not the word ,business in the quarrel­ling dialect'.83 Conversely, the defenders of the law of honour regarded the duel as a buttress of the social hierarchy. 'Banish this defence of honour', wrote a subsequent advocate of duelling, 'and it will soon become a monied aristocracy'.84

Yet it would be wrong to trace Hobbes's opposition to the duel to such bourgeois origins. It is true that the duel was partially a substitute for an inadequate law of defamation, 85 and that Hobbes's dismissal of the need to avenge insults on the ground

so E. W. III, p. 87. 81 Ibid. 82 I hope to analyse the history of duelling in England on another occasion.

There is a general survey of the duel in Europe in Sir G. Oark W'ar and society in tfie seventeenth century, Cambridge, 1958, chapter 2. �fuch interesting background material is to be found in F. R. Bryson The point of honor in sixteenth-cciJ/IIry Italy . . . . , Chicago, 1 935, and The sixteenth-century Italian duel, Chicago, 1938.

· 83 T. Peste! Sermons and devotions . . . . , London, 1659, p. 336. 84 Considerations on the laws of honour • . . by a military gmtleman, London, 1 803, p. 25. 85 Hence the attempt of the Court of Chivalry to deal with 'scandalous words

provocative of a duel'. G. B. Squibb The High Court of Chit•alry, Oxford, 1959 pp. 57, 101-2, 1 44-6.

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that 'the hurt is not corporeal, but phantastical'S6 might appear to derive from quarters which were indifferent to injuries involving no financial consequences. But his other remarks imply that the sources of his moral attitude were quite different. For, side-by-side with the middle-class objections to the duel, there had always existed a strongly aristocratic sentiment to the effect that the truly magnanimous man should despise the practice because it was beneath him. Even Aristotle's Ethics, the most important source-book for the conception of aristocratic honour, had stressed that the magnanimous man should not be over-hasty in seeking revenge. 87 Theorists had thus come to hold that honour was too precious to require so coarse a reinforcement, and that the truly generous man forgave his injuries rather than avenging them. 88 Likewise he was required to reserve his courage for the wars, where the duellist so often proved a coward. 89 The most determined opponents of duelling included aristocrats like Scipione Maffei in Italy, and the Earl of North­ampton in England. 90

It was on such essentially aristocratic grounds that Hocbes himself rejected duelling, denouncing it as 'a custom not many years since begun' that 'a gallant man, and one that is assured of his own courage, cannot take notice of'. 91 It was, he asserted, only those lacking sufficient faith in themselves who bridled at insults by words or gesture. 92 Consequently, he dissociated himself from the proposal so frequently made in his own day that the state, by altering the law of slander and providing a new system of financial compensation, should offer that satisfaction which the duel had hitherto supplied. 93 Hobbes's analysis was more acute than this. A ware of the conflict between the law of the land, which forbade duelling, and the actual tone of the administration, which required officers and soldiers to be •men of honour', he accordingly urged governors 'not to countenance anything obliquely, which directly they forbid'. 94 But by the time of the

86 E. W. III, p. 286. s7 Nic. Etb. 1 126a. 88 (B. de Logue) Discourses of n•arre and single combat, trans. J. Eliot, London,

1591, p. 55; L. Br(yskett) A discot<m of civil/ life . . . . , London, 1606, pp. 73, 76; ]. Lowde A discourse concerning the nature of man . . . . , London, 1694, p. 200.

89 Clarendon History of the rebellion, III, p. 213. 9° Clark ( War and society, pp. 39, 49) draws attention to Maffei. On Northampton

see F. T. Bowers 'Henry Howard Earl of Northampton and duelling in England', Englische Studien, 71, 1937.

91 E. W'. III, p. 286. 92 E.W. III, p. 295. 93 Ibid. •• E. rv. III, p. 292.

1 96 KEITH T H O M A S

Latin version of the Leviathan he had grown more pessimistic, and although duelling was one of the few topics given more space in the new edition, he now admitted that he could not envisage the time when society would cease to regard a refusal to fight as dishonourable. His new proposal for eliminating the duel was both original and penetrating. He had already remarked that the practice would never cease 'till such time as there shall be honour ordained for them that refuse, and ignominy for them that make the challenge.'95 He now advised that the nobility, or those who aspired in that direction, should be compelled to take an oath not to issue or accept challenges ; they would thus be obliged to desist or else, by breaking their plighted word, forfeit that claim to be men of honour which the duel was meant to demonstrate. But, although Hobbes thus attempted to eliminate the social pressures which made it difficult to refuse challenges, he still held that the braver course was to decline. For even Hector had reserved his energies for foreign enemies and did not fight his fellow-citizens. 96

Hobbes, therefore, was not rejecting all notions of honour and courage. On the contrary, he was prescribing a course of action which only the truly 'gallant' could follow, and inveighing only against the latest fashion, the 'fine clothes, great feathers, civility towards men that will not swallow injuries, and injury towards them that will', which constituted 'the present gallantry in love and duel'.97 In its place he preferred (and the aristocratic tone of his language should not go unnoticed) the gallantry of one 'that knows how to bring his business to pass (without the assistance of knavery and ignoble shifts) by the sole strength of his good contrivance'. 9s

Nor 1 did he refuse recognition to the aristocratic virtue of courage, as has sometimes been suggested. 99 Professor Strauss goes so far as to say that Hobbes 'destroyed the moral basis of national defence'.100 Such a conclusion presumably rests upon Hobbes's remark that soldiers may run away i·n battle, provided they do so 'not out of treachery, but fear'. Yet only a few lines

•• E. W. III, p. 811. •6 L.W. Ili, pp. 74, 244-245. 91 Behemoth, p. 38 ; Elements, p. 40. 1 8 Behemoth, p. 38. Cf. his disapproval of the affectations of 'silly young men

returning from France'. E.W. IV, pp. 342-343. ee Strauss The political philosoplry of Hobbes, p. 1 14. •oo L. Strauss Natural right and history, Chicago, 1953, p. 197. [See Ch. 1, p. 26,

above.]

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O BBES ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 1 97

later Hobbes stresses that 'when the defence of the common­wealth, requireth at once the help of all that are able to bear arms, everyone is obliged ; because otherwise the institution of the commonwealth, which they have not the purpose, or courage to preserve, was in vain' .101 It was to clear up any possible ambigui­ties on this point that in his Review and conclusion to Leviathan he added a further law of nature, 'that every tJJan is bound I?J nature, as

nmch as in him lieth, to protect in war the authority, I?J which he is himself protected in time of peace'. Undoubtedly he considered that at some stage men might lawfully submit to a conqueror : an ordinary subject 'when the means of his life are within the guards and garrisons of the enemy', a soldier when his army has ceased to supply him with the means of subsistence.1°2 But so far as the outbreak of war is concerned, the 'moral basis of national defence' is explicit enough.

For Hobbes the value of courage depended upon the circum­stances. In the state of nature it was the greatest virtue of all, if not the only one.103 But in the civil state 'fortitude is a royal virtue ; and though it be necessary in such private men as shall be soldiers, yet, for other men, the less they dare, the better it is both for the commonwealth and for themselves.'104 For fortitude can be employed in overthrowing the state as well as defending it, 105 and 'courage . . . inclineth men to private revenges'.106 Neverthe­less, when the state is endangered by foreign enemies it becomes the duty of private men to do their utmost to defend it and courage is once more essential. For what 'in peace is a handsome action . . . is dejectedness and poorness of spirit . . . in the time of wa:i:' .107 Hobbes was realistic enough to recognise that in war victory did not always go to the brave,108 but he could praise the Marquis of Newcastle for having performed 'so noble and honourable acts for the defence of your countrie',109 and recognise in the per­fection of Sidney Godolphin both 'a courage for the war, and a fear for the laws'.110 Rashness was always to be avoided,111 yet

101 E. I¥". III, p. 205. 102 E. W. III, pp. 703-704. 103 L.W. III, p. 74. '04 &bemoth, p. 45. This sentiment is echoed by John Hall of Richmond (Of

government and obedience, p. 1 1 9). 1•• L. W. II, p. 1 17. 10� E.W. III, p. 701. 107 E. W. II, p. 45 n. 10s E.W. III, p. 1 1 5 ; Behemoth, p. 1 10 ; Elements, p. 68. 1og E. W. VII, p. 468. no E.W. III, p. 702. 111 L W. II, p. 102

198 K E i n -r T H O M A S

i n time of war cowardice remained for Hobbes an object of contempt.112

Hobbes reacted, however, against any cult of military glory for its own sake. 'A disposition of the mind to war' was an offence against the law of nature.113 He was totally unsympathetic to the military exploits and aspirations of the heroes of medieval romance. 'The subjects of those kings who affect the glory, and imitate the actions, of Alexander the Great, have not always the most comfortable lives, nor do such kings usually very long enjoy their conquests.'114 The Roman Empire was dismissed as 'a beast of prey'115 and the classics were to be shunned, partly because they gave the unwary reader 'a strong, and delightful impression, of the great exploits of war' .116 Hobbes conceded that foreign war was less of an evil than civil conflict because kings could 'uphold thereby, the industry of their subjects'.117 'Prudently to wage war' was, therefore, one of the tasks of govern­ment. us But 'unnecessary wars', undertaken 'out of ambition, or of vain-glory, or that make account to revenge every little injury, or disgrace', or waged out of a desire for 'fame from new conquest', were to be avoided.119

There was nothing startling about these sentiments, for the reaction against the chivalric glorification of war had been initiated by the Tudor humanists and was derived from Stoic s ources.12o If Sir Philip Sidney had had to be rebuked for seeking honour only in killing,121 Sir Walter Raleigh (attacking Alexander the Great and 'other troublers of the world, who have bought their glory with so great destruction and effusion of blood') had asserted that valour was 'a disposition, taken by itself, not much to be admired' .122 It was an Elizabethan commonplace that forti­tude was useless without temperance.123

m Behemoth, p. 134. 'Extreme fear', )\owever, was 'no vice when the danger is extreme', Elements, p. 73. ·

m Elements, p. 78. m E. IV. VI, p. 12. m E. rv. II, p. i. m E. W'. III, p. 314. 117 EJ¥'. III, p. 1 �5. 118 E. IF. II, p. 77. . m Elements, p. 146; E. U"'. III, p. 86. But m E.W. III, p. 174, he seems to tmply

that kings may reasonably wish to be glorious. . 120 See, in particular, R. P. Adams. 'Pre-Renaissance cou�tly propaganda for peace.in English literature', Papers of tha lifichigan Academy of Smnce, Arts atuf Letters (xxxii, 1946), 1948, and 'Bold bawdry and open manslaughter : the Engltsh new humanist attack on medieval romance', Huntington Library Quarter(y, XXIII, 1959.

121 'Tu et tui similes hoc est, i i qui illustribus familiis sunt nati, existimatis, nulla re majorem gloria� parari quam multa hominum ca�de'. Hrt.berti Langueti . . . Episto!ae ad Philippum Sydneium • • • (ed.) D. Dalrymple, Edmburgh, 1776, p. 208.

m The works of Sir fJ7alter Ralegh . . . . , Oxford, 1 829, V, p. 381. m F. Thynne Emblemes and epigrames . . . (ed.) F. ]. Furnivall, London, 1876,

(E.E.T.S.), p. 84.

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The important point is that by the time that Hobbes was writing there was nothing obviously anti-aristocratic about these views, for the nobility had ceased to be a military class. The peculiarly aristocratic code of honour was concerned with personal and family matters (chastity, love-affairs, sensibility to insult) rather than with warfare.124 The feudal magnate was giving way to the town-loving aristocrat, whose lack of military prowess was notorious. Hobbes, whose values were civilised ones ('decency . . . elegancy . . . benevolence'), 125 saw that the notion that the only form of honour was 'virtue military' belonged to an earlier stage of historical development, 126 and inherent in his discussion of honour is a whole theory of historical change, according to which ethical codes change to reflect the changing basis of power in society.

It can therefore be argued that, although in no way opposed to an aristocracy as such, Hobbes was concerned to eliminate all the more offensive forms of aristocratic behaviour. He certainly set a greater value on life than did many of his aristocratic con­temporaries. Thus he dismissed suicide, which had been held up by many gentlemen as an honourable course and the sign of greatness of heart,127 as the action of one who is not compos tJJentis.12B His rule that a man cannot lay down the right of resisting those who come to take away his life129 contrasts sharply with the studied behaviour of a man like Raleigh at his execution. His view that insults were unworthy of the attention of the magnanimous130 removed the most frequent occasion for the gentleman to prefer death to dishonour. Similarly, his assertion that honour and honesty were the same thing at different social levels131 was an implicit denial of the convention that a gentleman should defend with his life what he had said, even if it happened to be untrue.132 •

Hobbes indeed protested against most forms of upper-class arrogance : it was against the law of nature to scorn or deride other men,133 or to make another's weakness the occasion of one's own triumph by laughing at him.134 Although sumptu-

124 C. L. Barber The idea of honour in the English drama, 1591-1700, Goteborg, 1957, p. 200.

12s E.W. II, p. 127. 126 E. W. Ill, p. 83. 127 Watson Shakespeare and the Renaissance concept of honor, pp. 1 1 7-123, 341-345. as E. W. VI, p. 88. m E. W. III, p. 120. 130 E. W. III, p. 295. 131 E.W. VIII, p. v. 132 Bowers Elizabethan revenge traget{y, pp. 32-33. J3a Elements, p. 67. 134 Elements, p. 32.

200 K E I T H T H O M A S

ousness and magnificence were normally regarded a s essential attributes of nobility,135 Hobbes disapproved of most forms of conspicuous consumption, of 'riot' and vain expense', 136 'luxurious waste',ll�7 and the prodigality which some called magnanimity.138 His dislike of intemperance and insobriety because of their effect upon health139 contrasted sharply with such characteristic aristo­cratic activities as feasting and health-drinking. So did his aversion to lechery and gambling.uo

For Hobbes was a man of humble origins : 'I am one of the common people', he said.141 'Of plebian descent', 142 he owed his rise in the world to his own abilities. Throughout his life he retained some trace of a provincial accent.143 As one who caught colds going 'up and downe to borrow money' for his master, 'who was a waster', 144 he had every opportunity to see the aristocracy at its worst, and it would not have been surprising if he had ended up a fierce egalitarian and enemy of social pretension. But in fact he seems to have fitted into his new milieu happily enough, and to have imbibed a good number of its prejudices, just as his metaphors sometimes remind us that he was well acquainted with the usages of polite society.145 Hobbes stressed that there was to be nothing in his doctrine contrary to 'good manners',146 and he dissociated himself from any intention 'to encourage men of low degree, to a saucy behaviour towards their betters' .14 7 He was hostile to 'that liberty which the lower sort of citizens, under pretence of religion, do challenge to themselves', 148 and mis­understood the nature of the Levellers, whom he treated as land­grabbers .l49 In 'company with his Royalist contemporaries, he poured scorn upon the Barebones Parliament as composed of 'obscure persons',150 and denounced the Rump for glutting itself with noble blood.151 For him the rebels were base as well as false.152

Accordingly, Hobbes shows himself ready enough to assume the role of obsequious client in his prefaces and correspondence. 'The image of your noblenes decayes not in my memory', he

185 Watson Shakespeare and the Renaissance concept of honor, pp. 150-155. 13G E. W. III, p. 321 . 137 E.W. III, p. 334. 108 E.W. III, p. 29. 139 E. If?. III, p. 144. 140 Behemoth, p. 147. · 1u E. IV. VI, p. 13. 1•• J. Aubrey Brief Lives. , , (ed.) A. Powell, London, 1 949, p. 237. 'Both yours

and mine are plebeian names', he told Wallis. E. W. VII, p. 355. 143 Aubrey Brief Lives, p. 254. 144 Ibid., p. 250 145 E.g. E. W. III, p. 59. 146 E.W. III, p. 713. u1 E . W. III p. xi. us E. W. II, p. 79n. 149 Behemoth. p. 161. 150 Behemoth,

' p. 181. '"' L.W. I, p. xcii. 162 Behemoth. p. 134.

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assures Sir Gervase Clifton, while the Earl of Devonshire is praised for treating 'his inferiors familiarly; but maintaining his respect fully'.153 His own political works were addressed to a relatively aristocratic audience. The translation of Thucydides (commended by Hobbes for his 'honour and nobility'1114) was intended for noblemen/55 while the Elen;ents of Law circulated in manuscript form among the cultivated members of the Great Tew circle before the Civil War. 'Of this treatise, though not printed': remarks Hobbes, 'many gentlemen had copies'.156 Leviathan itself was specifically directed at the 'many honourable persons, that having been faithful and unblemished servants to the King, and soldiers in his army, had their estates then seques­tered'.157 'I believe', Hobbes proudly asserted, 'it hath framed the minds of a thousand gentlemen to a conscientious obedience to present government, which otherwise would have wavered in that point' .158

Hobbes's political recommendations were common enough in the 1 650's and they were calculated to appeal to men of landed property as much as to merchants.159 The quietism to be found in his writings, exemplified in the view that participation in politics involves unnecessary neglect of one's own affairs160 and in the general commendation of a retired life,161 has no immediately · obvious social affiliation. But if it is not to be taken as the charac- · teristic political attitude of the philosopher living quietly so as to pursue his own enquiries,162 then its most immediate affinities may

"a E. U"'. VII, p. 451 ; E. W'. VIII, p. v. 154 E.W. VIII, p. xur. m E. IV. VIII, p. v. m E. IV. IV, p. 414. Cf. B. D. Greenslade 'Clarendon's and Hobbes's Element!

of Law' Note; and Queries, CCII, 1957, p. 150. 151 IV, pp. 423-424. Cf. pp. 420-421 . He assumes that none of his readers

would resort to an assembly 'when there is a question of marrying his children, disposing of his lands, governing his household, or managing his private estate'. E. IF'. III, p. 249.

1ss E. w·. VII, p. 336. Clarendon commented on Hobbes's influence by his book 'and more by his conversation', A brief view and survey, pp. 92-93. Other testimony i ndicating Hobbes's appeal to the gentry can be found i n G. Lawson An examination of the political part of Air. Hobbs his Leviathan, London, 1657, sig. AZr-v, Diarier and letters of Philip Henry . . • (ed.) M. H. Lee, London, 1882, p. 281, and The Life and limes of Anthony Wood • . . (ed.) A. Clark, Oxford, 1891-1900, II, p. 1 16.

159 For two particularly close parallels see the advice of the Duke of Buckingham in 1650, Historical MSS Commission, Portland II, p. 138, and that of the Earl of Lauderdale at the Restoration, Burnet's History of my own time, (ed.) 0. Airy, Oxford, 1897, 192-193.

1so II, p. 1 36, 161 E W. IT, p, 133; E. W. VIII, p. xvii. 162 Cf. Oeuvres de Destartu, (ed.) Ch. Adam et P. Tannery, Paris, 1 897-1909, I, p.

286; VI, pp. 22-23, 27.

202 K E I T H T H O M A S

lie with the 'garden' poetry of the 1 650's, largely Royalist and aristocratic in inspiration, the product of the enforced inactivity of the defeated side. The great popularity of Walton's Compleat Angler (1653) testifies to the contemporary cult of the quiet country life away from the political turmoil and moral corruption of the city. This reached a peak in the 1 640's and 1 650's in the writings of men like Denham, Cowley, Evelyn, Fane, Vaughan and Benlowes. These authors, in Miss Rostvig's ,words, 'gradually came to attribute peace, innocence, and happiness to a meditative country life, while, conversely, religious disorder and civil disobedience beeame associated with life in towns, where the Puritans had their chief strength' .163 Similarly Hobbes, who had a taste for country life, and who had accompanied Bacon 'in his delicious walkes at Gorambery', 164 complained of 'an insincere­ness, inconstancy, and troublesome humor of those that dwell in populous cities' and found 'a_ plainness, and though dull, yet a nutritive faculty in rurall people, that endures a comparison with the earth they labour' .166 In so far as his political thought reflects this theme of rural retirement it is profoundly out of sympathy with the more bourgeois trends of his age.

Despite his origins, therefore, Hobbes's ethical ideal remained an aristocratic one. Although he considered that it was only the leisured minority of the population who were likely to cause trouble by their obsession with honour and reputation, he also thought that it was from their numbers that the most public­spirited citizens were likely to be drawn. Aristotle had said that, although the mass of men could be governed only by fear, there was a minority who could be obliged by considera­tions based on honour and a natural love of what was good.166 Hobbes repeats this sentiment. 'The wills of most men are governed only by fear.'16 7 But there is an important minority. They are the 'generous natures' who will obey the law for other reasons,168 and who possess 'a certain nobleness or gallantness of courage, rarely found, by which a man scorns to be beholden for

163 M.-S. Rostvig The happy man. Studies in the metamorphoses of a classical ideal, Oslo and Oxford, 1954, p. 22. Mr. Hill (Puritanism and revolution, p. 350n. 1) points out that Marvell constitutes an obvious exception to this rule.

164 Aubrey Brief Lives, p. 242. 165 J. E. 5pingarn (ed.) Critical Essays of the seventeenth centut:y, Vol. II

(1650-85), Oxford 1908, [hereafter cited as 'Spingarn'J p. 55. 166 Nic. Eth., 1 179 b. 16 7 Elements, p. 86. 168 E. W. III, p. 285. They are described in L. w·. III, p. 214, as 'excelsiore animo'.

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the contentment of his life, to fraud, or breach of promise',I69 and 'a glory, or pride in appearing not to need to break' their word. This was 'a generosity too rarely found to be presumed on, especially in the pursuers of wealth, command, or sensual pleasure ; which are the greatest part of mankind'. That great majority could only be governed by fear,170 yet if only all men possessed those generous qualities which lead them to follow the paths of justice 'without a common power to keep them all in awe' then 'there neither would be, nor need to be any civil government, or commonwealth at all ; because there would be peace without subjection' .171

These 'generous natures' were noticed by Professor Strauss, who dismissed them as unimportant, on the grounds that they were motivated by pride, which Hobbes regarded as funda­mentally unjust.172 Elsewhere he argued, with greater plausibility, that Hobbes did not discard this aristocratic outlook, but supple­mented it with a morality attainable by 'the greatest part of men' .173 Recently, however, Professor Oakeshott has offered a new inter­pretation of Hobbes, according to which the 'generous natures' play an integral part in his P?litical schemeY4 But one can

169 E. W. III, p. 136. The limitation that it is 'rarely found' does not, however, appear in L. W. III, p. 115.

17o EJ/7. III, pp. 128-129. 171 E. W. III, p. 155. Similar views are expressed in the work published by

Hobbes's friend and disciple, Walter Charleton, entitled Epicums's morals (1656), (ed. F. Manning, London, 1926, p. 98.)

1 72 The political philosopllJ of Hobbes, p. 25. (His reference to Elements, pp. 28-29, however, hardly supports this view.)

'

173 Ibid., p. 99. Cf., however, p. 113. 174 Rationalism in politics, pp. 289ff. Attention had also been drawn to the

'generous natures' by D. Krook, Three traditions of moral thought, Cambridge, 1959, pp. 128-131. Prof. Oakeshott argues first that the generous natures must be present in Hobbes's state, because 'it is only they who . . . may be depended upon to defend it when dissension deprives the sovereign of his power.' (Rationalism in politia, p. 293). To this one might object that it is not only the generous who can be depended upon for national defence, for this is a duty incumbent upon all citizens (E.W. III, p. 703), who will presumably have been educated accordingly. No particularly heroic qualities are required, since self-interest provides sufficient incentive to fight in the first place, while simple heroism would only lead a man to persist in fighting after the cause was lost and thus obstruct a new settlement. Moreover, the generosity which involves contempt for 'fraud, or breach of promise' (E. W. III, p. 136) would be a doubtful asset in national defence, for Hobbes knew that 'force, and fraud, are in war the two cardinal virtues' (E. W. III, p. 1 15).

Prof. Oakeshott's second and more tentative point is that the risk involved in initial obedience to the covenant may conceivably be so great as to require the first performer to possess the extra quality of generosity, which makes him 'careless of the consequences of being bilked' (p. 299). But this cannot be true of one category of commonwealth, that of commonwealths by acquisition, for there the vanquished

204 K E I T H T H OMAS

recognise in the man of generosity Hobbes's ethical ideal without making him an essential part of Hobbes's political structure. The social overtones of this ideal nevertheless remain unmistakably aristocratic, for in the seventeenth century 'gener­ous' retained its original meaning of being well-born, noble, having a good lineage. According to the dictionaries of the period 'generosity' means 'gentlemanlike courage'/75 or 'noblenesse of minde, or of bloud'.1 76 It can even be regarded as synonymous with ' gentility', meaning ' gentry, nobilitie, gentlemanship' .177 'f.hus the Vitae Hobbianae Auctarium describes the family of Sir Gervase Clifton as 'antiqua . . . et summe generosa'.HS

Hobbes's 'generous natures', therefore, if not aristocratic by birth are aristocratic by nature, since theirs is an ideal to which only a select minority can aspire. Nor is it one to be found among those who devote their lives to making money.I79 It is exemplified neither by the swash-buckling braggart, nor by the cowardly man of trade.

The initial task of one who aspires to this kind of virtue is that of forming a true estimate of his own capacity. For the glory or pride which it requires must be 'just and well-grounded', not dependent upon the 'fame and trust of others, whereby one may think well of himself, and yet be deceived'.IBO Hence there are many snares to be avoided. There is the self-deception which

takes few risks in submitting and it is non-performance which is the hazardous course. Only with difficulty can it fit the other kind of commonwealth, that by agreement. For1 although the first performer is still in the state of nature at the moment precedmg performance and therefore 'has no assurance the other will perform after' (E. W. III, p. 124,) this difficulty can only arise at the very moment of the institution _of the commonwealth. If we apply Hobbes's ideas, as they were meant to be applied, to any society actually in being, then the notion of 'the first performer' does not arise, since the covenant is being effectively observed already. Prof. Oakeshott's point is therefore, at most, a purely formal one. The only circumstances in which the problem could arise in real life are those surrounding the recognition of an effective usurper, but this results in a commonwealth by acquisition and there is, accordingly, no heroism involved. On the international level any move to union among independent sovereigns might well require gener­osity in the sovereign who is prepared to be the £rst to set the example of disarma­ment. But this was a situation which Hobbes never considered.

175 T. B(lount) Glossographia • • • , London, 1656. 176 E. P(hillips) The new world of English words . . . . , London, 1658. m R. C(awdrey) A table alphabetical! . • • (3rd ed.), London 1613. 17s L.W. I, p. x:xvi.

,

179 a. qarendon's comments on the legacy of the Interregnum: 'In the place of generost�y, a vile and sordid love of money was entertained as the truest wisdom, and anythmg lawful that would contribute towards being rich', The life of Edward, Earl of Clarendon . . . , Oxford, 1 827, I. p. 361.

180 Elements, p. 28.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H OU G H T 205

arJses 'when a man imagineth himself to do the actions whereof he readeth in some romant'.181 This 'feigning or supposing of abilities in ourselves, which we know are not, is most incident to young men, and nourished by the histories, or fictions of gallant persons'.182 Of this 'the gallant madness of Don Quixote' is a characteristic exarnple.183 Then there are the dangers which arise from under-estimating ourselves. Humility may prevent rashness, but it 'utterly cows' a man.184 Pusillanimity can lead to lost oppo:rtunities.185 This is the vice of those who, lacking sufficient self-confidence in themselves, derive vicarious satisfaction from the expfoits of their ancestors or rely upon their :reputation, whether it is justified or not.186 Ultimately they prove vain­glorious, for when they rush in they find the undertaking too great for them and are forced to salve their honour with an excuse rather than lose their lives.l87

Hobbes's ideal man would never have recourse to such an expedient. Too self-confident to require the spurious prop of laughter, 188 too strong to need recourse to that anger which springs from fear of contempt, he possesses magnanimity, which is 'contempt of unjust, or dishonest helps' .189 Hence his scorn of 'fraud o:r breach of promise' and his 'contempt of little helps and hindrances'.190 He needs no recou:rse to 'knavery or ignoble shifts' but can rely upon 'the sole strength of his good con­trivance'.191

This is too exalted a state of mind to be in the reach of every­one. For, i:f the magnanimous man is one who proceeds 'from the conscience of power', 192 then his is a quality to which those who have little power, the poor and lowly, can hardly aspire. Lacking eminence in such faculties as 'liberality' and 'nobility' ,193 they must trim their conduct to fit their station. Frugality weakens endeavour, but it is 'in poor men a virtue' .194 In the state of nature it may be true that the only realistic form of self-appraisal is to recognise that one is no stronger than any other man, 195 but in

l81 Jbid. 18• E. IV. III, pp. 45-46. 183 Elements, p. 40. I84 Elements, p. 29. us E.W. III, p. 89. 1M Elements, p. 36. 187 E.W. III, p. 89. Iss FJements, p. 32; Spingarn, p. 64. 189 L. W. II, p. 105; E.W. III, p. 60. 19o E. W. III, p. 44. 191 Behemoth, p. 38. 192 E.W. III, p. 79. 193 E. W. III, p. 74. 194 E. W. III, p. 89. 195 Elements, p. 54; E.W. II, p. 39. Prof. Strauss's statement (The political phil­

osophy of Hobbes, p. 56) that 'it i s only the recognition of this equality which Hobbes allows to stand as just self-estimation' does not seem to allow for actual differences of power which arise in the civil state.

206 K E I T H T H O M A S

the civil state, where there are differences in riches and kindred, this is no longer the case. It is true that one does not need to occupy a position of social superiority to be able to despise 'unjust or dishonest helps'. But in practice honour is too much of a luxury for those who have not secured the necessities of life, and the 'generous natures' are therefore less likely to be found at the lower social levels, where the requisite 'glory or pride' is unknown.

The origins of this elevated conception of virtue are to be looked for neither in the Court nor in the City, but are most probably to be found in the cultivated and high-thinking group of friends (among whom Hobbes was numbered) who met at Falkland's house at Great Tew in the years before the Civil War. Among this circle there seems to have developed a modified aristocratic code, the ideal of a self-comcious minority' but one which laid its emphasis upon merit rather than birth. Great Tew represented an effort to eliminate the crudities, barbarisms and warlike associations of upper-class life, while retaining an elevated ideal of honour and personal cultivation.I96 It was in one of this group, the poet Sidney Godolphin, that Hobbes apparently saluted his ideal. He embodied 'clearness of judgment, and largeness of fancy; strength of reason, and graceful elocution ; a courage for the war, and a fear for the laws', and he was Hobbes's 'most noble and honoured friend' .197 These qualities are suffi­ciently consistent with what we know of Hobbes'_s ethical assumptions to enable us to discount Clarendon's slur on Hobbes's motives for drawing attention to Godolphin in the first place .198 Besides, Godolphin was not the only member of the Great Tew circle to approximate to Hobbes's ideal. The brilliant portrait of

196 Miss Irene Coltman has recently drawn attention to this group in her book Prit•ate mm and public causes . . . . , London, 1962. She interprets �obbes's political thought as a reaction against their over-s�:upulousness. More eVidence, h<;>we.ver, is still required about their soc1al and political outlook before ma�y generalisations about Great Tew are possible. It should be noted that Falkland h;mself began as a would-be duellist, Lady T. Lewis Lives of the frimds . . . of . . • Clarendon . • • ,

London, 1852, I, pp. 191-194. 197 E. W. III, pp. 702-703. L. W�. III! p. vii, ad_ds th�t .h.� was 'pi�s erga Deum,

eruditus ad pacem, . . . in congressrbus Jucundus, In amJcitlls firmus . 198 According to which (A brief l'ti!W and survey, pp. 6-7) the dedication of Leviathan

to the undistinguished Francis G?dolp�in, whom H?bbes had neve: met, was an elaborate blind to draw his attentiOn, without attractmg that of Pnrbament, to the non-payment of a legacy of £200 which had been left to Hobbes by his brother Sidney.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S OF H O B B E S ' S POL I T I C A L T H OU G H T 207

Falkland, enshrined in the pages of Clarendon's History/99 displays a character whose distaste for pride and revenge and whose agonised cry for peace seem to be exactly what Professor Strauss would take for a manifestation of the bmrrgeois spirit. Yet Falkland's fearless and self-conscious nobility of spirit is nothing if not 'aristocratic'. Although a lover of peace he was 'so far from fear that he was not without appetite of danger.' Clarendon tells us, moreover, that 'as he had a full appetite of fame by just and generous actions, so he had an equal contempt of it by any servile expedients'. 200 These are precisely the lineaments of Hobbes's •generous nature'.

Hobbes's ethical assumptions, therefore, may well prove to be more closely associated with the refined heroic code of Great Tew than with any other identifiable milieu. Hobbes, too, had an ideal of magnanimity and on the whole thought that the well-to­do were more likely to aspire to it. He admired courage when properly employed in the defence of one's country and he saluted those prepared to sacrifice their lives rather than engage in ignoble shifts. Even at home fear could be an obstruction to the know­ledge of the laws of nature, 201 and men were required to obey the laws not out of fear of the punishment, but from an upright conscience and a genuine striving to do what is just.202 Even ambition, that indispensable attribute of the gentleman, 203 could be tolerated under certain conditions and was to be judged accord­ing to the means by which the coveted goal was sought. 204 Hobbes recognised that it was a passion 'which many times well­natured men are subject to',201i and conceded that 'though a fault, (it) has somewhat heroick in it.'206 Was he perhaps echoing yet another of Falkland's friends, Ben Jonson, who observed that 'though ambition itself be a vice, it is often the cause of great virtue' ?207

* * * * *

199 The history of the rebellion, III, pp. 178-190. 2oo Ibid., p. 1 84. 2o1 E.W. II, p. 44. 202 E. IV". II, p. 60. 203 Watson Shakespeare and the Renaissance concept of honor, pp. 123-124, 345-348. 204 E.W. III, p. 44. Cf. E. IV. II, p. 175. 20" Behemoth, p. 107. 206 Spingarn, p. 61. . . 2"' Timber: or discweries . . . , London (Temple classJcs), 1 898, p. 84. Miss Coltman

(Private men and public causes, p. 144n.) points out the parallel between Hobbes and Falkland's friend, Izaak Walton, whose Angler observes: 'I would rather prove myself a gentleman, by being learned and humble, valiant and inoffensive: virtuous and communicable, than by any fond ostentation of nches or, wammg those virtues myself boast that these were in my ancestors.' For a further mstance of Hobbes's clos� connection with Great Tew see complete Prate Works of john Milton, II, (New Haven and London, 1959), pp. 34--35.

208 K E I T H T H O M A S

Further light can be thrown upon Hobbes's associations with the modified aristocratic ideals of his day by studying his relations with the Cavalier Poet Laureate, Sir William Davenant, to the Preface of whose heroic poem Gondibert Hobbes wrote an An.swer.208 Although these pieces are well-known as contributions to literary theory, their political importance has seldom been noticed. Professor Strauss was aware of their, existence, but in an attempt to prove that aristocratic virtue- gradually withered away from Hobbes's writings, finding 'a last refuge in poetry', he was led into assuming that Hobbes's views on heroic poetry had little importance for his political thought.209 Instead he explained away the presence of the 'generous natures' in Leviathan by attributing them to the momentary influence of Descartes' Passions de l'ame, which appeared in 1649, and, he thought, 'confused (Hobbes) as to his own real intention'. 210 This, how­ever, is surely a guess, and Hobbes's associations with heroic literature are deserving of closer attention.

For Hobbes undoubtedly shared many of the assumptions of heroic writing. He agreed that its subject-matter should be 'the description of great men and great actions'211 and thought that its language and metaphors should be socially exalted.212 Heroic poetry was meant to inculcate such virtues as 'valour, beauty, and love'213 or (elsewhere) 'prudence, justice, and forti­tude'. 214 As for its readers, they 'are commonly persons of the best quality'. 215

Hobbes was, moreover, very closely associated with Davenant, who not only dedicated Gondibert to him, but consulted him daily about its content when writing it. 216 When the poem appeared Hobbes praised it for its 'health of morality', finding in it 'nothing but setled valor, deane honor, calm counsel, learned diversion, and pure love'.217 To Davenant, he acknowledged 'the honor you have done me by attributing in your Preface somewhat to my judgment' and remarked significantly, 'I have used your judgment no less in many things of mine, which coming to light will thereby appear the better'. 218

208 Published with the Preface in 1650. Both are reprinted in Spingarn. 209 The political philosophy of Hobbes, p. 1 1 5. 210 Ibid., pp. 56-57. 211 Spingarn, p. 62. 213 Ibid., p. 64; E. IV'. IV, p. 459. He also comments on 'the uncomliness of

representing in great persons the inhumane vice of cruelty or the sordid vice of lust and drunkenness'. Spingarn, p. 64.

213 E. W. X, p. iv. 214 Ibid., p. iii. 215 Spingarn, p. 68. m Spingam, p. 1. 211 Ibid., pp. 65, 61 . 218 Ibid., p. 65.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S'

S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 209 These words should not be dismissed as airy compliments, but

are to be taken literally. Gondibert shows how many characteris­tically Hobbesian ideas were acceptable within the lofty milieu of heroic poetry,and indeed indicates the aristocratic context from which they had emanated in the first place. Thus although the poet considers that some ambition 'is necessary for every vertuous breast'219 he is careful to warn against its disastrous consequences when taken to ext:remes.220 Like Hobbes he holds that the desire for fame is not 'so vain as divers have rigidly hnagin'd' for it is 'of the dead a musical glory . . . to our sons a solid inheritance, and not unuseful to remote posterity'.221 Yet, like Hobbes, he thinks counsellors should be chosen by merit, not birth, 222 and detests revenge as 'the ruffians cowardice'. 223 Furthermore, he recognises that valour depends for its merit upon the circum­stances and condemns that rashness 'which oft too easily abandons

· life'.224 In one particularly notable passage he anticipates Pascal in his denunciation of the convention by which men object to murder yet applaud the honourableness of war. 225 It may seem surprising that such sentiments are to be found in what is in many respects an entirely conventional heroic poem. The environment is courtly and martial and the dramati.s personae are of noble birth. Most of the main commonplaces of heroic writing are to be found in it : death is to be preferred to dishonour, 226 anger can be 'brave and beauteous',227 and honour is 'the moral conscience of the great'.228 It is easy to see how Davenant's biographer concluded that the poet was simply a bundle of cont:radictions.229 The more probable inference, however, is that the refined heroic code to which Davenant subscribed was a good deal more humane than is usually supposed. The stark contrast between 'aristocratic' and 'bourgeois' virtue is too extreme to register the subtle changes in emphasis which the literature of the seventeenth century actually displays.

m Ibid., p. 14. 22o Gondibert: an heroick jxMm . • . , London, 1651, pp. 40, 42, 81. 221 Spingam, pp. 29-30. 222 Gondibert, p. 121 228 Gondibert, p. 331. Hobbes's objection to 'revenge . . . which regards not the

f�;�ture' (E.W. II, p. 37) is exactly stated in the poem (Gondibert, p. 137). za' Ibid., p. 72. ••• Gondiberl, p. 1 17. Cf. Pensees, 230, 233 (Oet!Vres completes (ed.) J. Chevalier

Paris (Pleiade), 1954, pp. 1 1 50, 1 1 51). '

226 Gondibert, p. 63. 121 Ibid., p. 47. m Ibid., p. 276. 22$A, Harbage Sir William Davenant . • . , Philadelphia, 1935, p. 195.

p

210 KEITH T HOMAS

For the influence of Davenant upon Hobbes, however, we must look less at the poem itself than at the Preface in which the poet enlarges upon the political function of heroic poetry. Davenant considered that the ordinary machinery of government was inadequate without the art of persuasion, for 'the weakest part of the people is their mindes'.230 Poetry played its part by portraying exemplary patterns of behaviour which its readers would imitate. These readers, however, were not the people at llu:ge, but only 'the most necessary men', 'those who become principal! by prerogative of blood, which is seldom unassisted with education, or by greatnesse of minde . . The common crowd, of whom we are hopelesse, we desert, being rather to be corrected by laws, where precept is accompanied. with punishment, then to be taught by poesy'.231 The populace, therefore, would only be indirectly influenced by heroic poetry, in that they might be expected to imitate the behaviour of their superiors who had been thus inspired to new heights of excellence and obedience. 232

Hobbes, too, believed that opinion was the bond of govern­ment. 'The powet of the mighty hath no foundation but in the opinion and belief of the people.'233 Unlike Davenant, however, he did not confine his attention to 'the most necessary men'. Indeed he is justly remembered for his view that the people at large were capable of learning political virtue, the poor no less than the rich. 234 For it was, he said, not want of wit which bro.ught the nation to Civil War, and the nimblest minds were often those politically most mistaken.235 This was, of course, a striking position to adopt at a time when the indifference of the great mass of the people of seventeenth century England to the political issues of the day had been remarked upon by many contempor­aries, including Hobbes himself.236 The characteristic attitude of the advanced European thinkers of the day was to allow fteedom of thought to an aristocratic minority, but to prevent its dis­semination among the people at large. Thus the nco-Stoics permitted speculative activity among the elite only, allowing no

tao Spingarn, p. 44. 231 Ibid., p. 14. 232 Ibid., pp. 14, 45. ••• Behemoth, p. 16. Cf. E. W. III, p. 539. 231 E. W. III, p. 325. 235 Behemoth, pp. 159-160. ""6 Behemoth, p. 2. Haselrig commented in 1659 : 'The people care not what

government they live under, so as they may plough and go to market.' Diary rif T. B��rton • • . (ed.) J. T. Rutt, London, 1828, III. p. 257. Cf. M. Wren Monarchy asserJed • • • • , London, 1659, p. 20.

S O C I AL O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 211

independent moral judgment to the masses,237 while the French libertins regarded their scepticism as a luxury for gentlemen. 238

T�e same attitud� was sh�ed by the indisputably bourgeois thmkers of the penod. Louts Turquet de Mayerne despised the people239; Spinoza and the Dutch republicans were notorious for their la

,ck of

. fa�th in t�e multitude. 24� Clarendon, sharing

Hobbes s admtratton for Stdney Godolphin, bewailed his loss in terms �he p�losopher of Malmesbury could nevet: have employed : 'such tnestunable treasure . . . ventur'd against dirty people of no name'.241

It is true that Hobbes occasionally permitted himself an aristocratic snarl at the insolent rabble, 242 or 'the lees of the people',243 or the 'credulous vulgar'.244 He even seems to have approved of the contemporary obscurantist doctrine that religious disputes are useful distractions 'by diverting the thoughts of the people from matters of state, and consequently from rebellion'. 24r; His disciple, Walter Charleton, specifically stated that elaborate ethical theories were not for 'the vulgar . . . and all that herd', who could never be taught to regulate their passions in accordance with reason. 246

Such an attitude was intelligible enough in the seventeenth century when the common people, hovering around subsistence level, and deprived of educational opportunities, led in many cases poor and brutish lives. It is all the more striking, therefore, that Hobbes should have dissociated himself from it, pointing out the ev� consequences which such disdain was likely to provoke. At a tune when many of the lower classes were illiterate and superstitious, capable of no greater political self-consciousness than that involved in flocking in thousands to be touched by a magical hand for the King's Evil,247 Hobbes propounded a system which by laying the burden of ultimate political decision

23' L. Zanta La ren'?issa_nce du_ sto�cisme au XVle siecle • • . Paris, 1914, pp. 37-39. 238 R. Pmtard Le ltbertmage mtdtt dans Ia premiere moilie du XVIIe siecle • . • , Paris,

1943, pp. 26, 550, 560. 239 R. Mousnier 'L'opposition politique bourgeoise a Ia fin du XVIe siede et

au debut du XVIIe siede', Revue Historique, CCXIII 1955 pp. 10-11. 240 Political works, pp. 103, 153, 237, 241. Cf. L: S. Fduer Spinoza a11d the rise of

liberalism, Beacon Hill, 1958, pp. 80-81. •n A brief view and survey, pp. 319-320. 24• Behemoth, p. 88. 243 E. W. III, p. 321, translated as 'in faece populi' (L. W'. III p. 239). ••• E.W. IV, p. 232. 2.45 E.W. IV, p. 233.

'

••• Natural history of the passions, London, 1674, pp. 165-166. 247 M. Bloch Les rois thaumaturges • • • , Paris, 1961, pp. 369-379, 388-395.

212 K E I T H T H O M A S

upon the individual conscience 'both supposes and favours the widest diffusion of intelligence among the body of the people'. 248 His aim was to remove that credulity which enabled 'crafty ambitious persons' to 'abuse the simple people'. 249 If 'the poor seduced people' were ignorant, said Hobbes, that was the fault of the sovereign. 250

Even for Hobbes, however, there were lipnts to popular capacity. The common people were engaged in the full-time struggle for subsistence, and he recognised that this stood in the way of any very advanced political self-consciousness. We have •

already seen how he believed that their preoccupation with gaining a living was an obstacle to their aspiring to honourable or 'generous' actions . From the start there was inevitably a double standard for Hobbes.251 Those without leisure were unlikely ever to be capable of doing more than was specifically required of them. Outstanding feats of generosity would have to be reserved for their social superiors. Furthermore the political understanding of the lower classe.s would be minimal too. 'A right understanding of that principal law of nature called equity . . . depending . .. . on the goodness of a man's own natural reason, and meditation, is presumed to be in those most, that have have had most leisure'. 252 'Common people know nothing of right or wrong by their own meditation; they must therefore be taught the grounds of their duty'253; and this lesson will be of the simplest kind-do not as you would not be done by.254

So, although Hobbes maintained that 'the rules of just and unjust, were deducible 'from principles evident to the meanest capacity' and 'have shined . . . to men of good education', he had regretfully to admit that 'they are few, in respect of the rest of the men, whereof many cannot read: many, though they can,

248 The minor work.; of George Grote, p. 66. John Hall of Richmond's comment that 'he that • • • obeys no farther than he finds reason to do so, obeys but himself' (Of government and obedience, sig. a3v) applies to Hobbes very well. Rousseau made the same observation, Contra/ Social I. vi.

249 E. W. III, p. 10. aso E. W. III, p. 337. as1A clear illustration of this double standard is to be found in the work of

Hobbes's Dutch admirer, Lambert van Velthuysen, Epistolica dissertatio de principiis iusti, et decori, continens apologiam pro troctatu darissimi Hobbaei De Cive, Amsterdam, 1651, p. 123: A man is not obliged to die for his neighbour, 'licet bene fecerit, si ad illam heroicam virtutem contendere studeat.'

262 E.W. III, p. 269. There is some evidence to suggest that he regarded the law of nature as inaccessible to those below the level of householder. E. W. III, p. 710.

ua Behemoth, p. 144. 254 E. W. II, pp. 44-45.

S O C I A L O R I G IN S OF H O B BE S 'S POLITICAL THOUG H T 213

have no leisure ; and of them that have leisure, the greatest part have their minds wholly employed and taken up by their private businesses or pleasures. So that it is impossible that the multitude should ever learn their duty, but from the pulpit and upon holidays'. 255 Hobbes thus came to the conclusion that the conduct of the common people depended partly upon their public instruc­tion, partly upon the example of 'their immediate leaders ; which are either the preachers, or the most potent of the gentlemen that dwell amongst them'. 256 'For commonly men of age and quality are followed by their inferior neighbours, that look more upon the example of those men whom they reverence, and whom they are unwilling to displease, than upon precepts and laws,'257 Like Davenant, therefore, Hobbes believed in the exemplary power of the great. 'There is in princes and men of conspicuous power, anciently called heroes, a lustre and influence upon the rest of men resembling that of the heavens'.258 Accordingly he makes the gentry the essential class in political scheme, and in his last political work, Behemoth, concentrates his energies upon the crucial problem of the universities, where the gentryreceivetheireducation. 'It is . . . manifest, that the instruction of the people, dependeth wholly, on the right teaching of youth in the universities',259

His scheme did not, however, require much change in the social composition of university students. Proposing the erection of 'a new and lay-university', he stressed that it would be a small institution and 'that none should come thither sent by their parents, as to a trade to get their living by, but that it should be a place for such ingenuous men, as being free to dispose of their own time, love truth for itself'. 260 As for the existing universities of Oxford and Cambridge, they were 'the greatest and noblest means of advancing learning of all kinds, where they should be therein employed, as being furnished with large endowments and other helps of study, and frequented with abundance of young gentlemen of good families and good breeding from their child­hood'. It was, therefore, only the sons of the aristocracy who would be instructed at the universities in sound doctrine, 'where­with young men, being once endued, they may afterward, both in private and public, instruct the vulgar'.261 For the common

255 Behemoth, p. 39. 256 Ibid. 167 Ibid., p. 54. 258 Spingarn, p. 55. 259 E. W. III, p. 331. Cf. Behemoth, p. 59; E. W. II, p. 172. 260 E. W. VII, p. 345. ••1 E. W. VII, p. 399; II, p. 172.

214 K E I T H T H O M A S

people 'a;e like clean paper, fit t o receive whatsoever b y public authority shall be imprinted in them'. 262

Hobbes thus followed Davenant in regarding the moral and political education of the aristocracy as the essential task of government. Yet Davenant, although, like Hobbes, of humble origins, was an extreme Royalist, a me�ber of t�e Louvre group of courtiers gathered rou?d Hennetta Mana, an� an inveterate enemy of the commerctal classes, whom he believed to live in a state of permanent hostility to their superiors.263 It is striking that one of the few individuals from whom Hobbes seems to have been prepared to learn was a man whose own social affiliations were so aggressively aristocratic.

* * *

What now is to be said of the role played by the middle classes or bourgeoisie in Hobbes's political theory ? It

. seems obvious

enough that his basic recommendation-effective government which would preserve peace and secure life-would appeal to those engaged in trade and industry. The dislike of civil war and desire for peace, manifested by a variety of sixteenth and seven­teenth century political writers, is indisputably connected with the shift away from the society organised for war and dominated by a military class which had been characteristic of the Middle Ages. It is worth noting that Hobbes's political values are to some extent anticipated in the early fourteenth century frescoes of Ambrogio Lorenzetti in the Palazzo Pubblico at Siena depicting Good and Bad Government. Here the ethic of the Italian city state is reflected in the emphasis upon material welfare as the outcome of peace, contrasted with the horrors of bad government, where Pride is rampant and Fear hovers over all. This reaction against the scholastic classification of virtues, according to which it had been doubtful whether peace was a virtue at all, 264 began, predictably enough, in a commercial envi­ronment. The writings of Hobbes can be similarly interpreted as the product of a society in which war is no longe: a neces�ary field of endeavour but an interruption of the real busmess of life.

The initial difficulty about such an interpretation is that Hobbes was not prepared to make the interests of trade a ground

2s2 E. W. III, p. 325. . . 263 His devastating analysis of·the hypocritical wtles of the �hop�keepmg class (Spingarn, pp. 34-35) anticipates Hobbes's account of 'the lucrative vtces of men of trade or handicraft' (Behemoth, p. 25).

264 N. Rubinstein 'Polit ical ideas in Sienese art', Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 21, 1958, p. 186.

S O C I AL O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 215

for political resistance. Only a direct threat t o life itself will justify rebellion, although prosperity may well be expected to follow obedience. Hobbes thought it misleading to suggest a connection between Dutch prosgerity and Dutch republicanism. Indeed he considered that its form of government was utterly irrelevant to a country's economic well-being, which depended simply upon the inpustry and obedience of its inhabitants. 265 There was, therefore, no point in disputing the relative merits of monarchy, aristocracy and democracy, for 'the present ought always to be p:refer.red'.266 Yet, although it might have been true enough that there was no logical link between the form of a government and its attitude to economics, there was in practice a good deal of connection. Because of the different social forces which they represented, there was a tendency for republics to foster the economic interests of their subjects and for monarchies to sabotage them. It was a contemporary platitude that banks and republics went together,267 and it was no accident that the Bank of England was not established until after the Revolution of 1 688. Yet Hobbes criticised the English middle classes for their opposition to the Crown in the Civil War. For, had they 'under­stood what virtue there is to preserve their wealth in obedience to their lawful sovereign', 268 they would never have sided with Parliament.

Hobbes's opinion that the interests of the English commercial classes in 1640 lay not with Parliament but with Charles I is difficult to reconcile with any of the conventional interpretations of the English Civil War, according to which the interests of trade and industry were more or less incompatible with those of a. monarchy whose capricious incursions into the economic sphere constituted an essential cause of the conflict. On the continent the alliance between a strong monarchy and the commercial and industrial classes was familiar enough, for the help of the crown was necessary to overcome tolls, customs barriers and feudal restraints and make possible the practice of large-scale commerce. But in England, although foreign trade still required the backing

265 E.W. III, pp. 314-315, 326; L. lf/'. III, p. 235. 266 E.W. III, p. 548. 267 J. K. Horsefield British monetary experiments, 1 650- 7 710, London, 1960, pp. 99-100.

268 Behemoth, p. 142.

216 K E I T H T H O M A S

bf the state, a fluid class structure and a favourable domestic environment for economic growth made the economic case for absolutism a weak one. The economic results of the period 1 640:-1 660 are still a subject of controversy, but he would be singularly perverse who maintained that the English middle classes lost more by the Great Rebellion thar: t�ey gained_. Hobbes therefo;e offers an interpretation of the C1vll War which stands the con­ventional assessment of English economic interests upon its head.

It is not surprising that the men of trade appeared to Hobbes to dwell in a permanent state of discontent, the justification for which he was not prepared to concede. It was no wonder that he observed 'an insincereness, inconstancy, and troublesome humor' in 'those that dwell in populous cities'269 and regarded corporations as 'many lesser commonwealths in the bowels of a greater, like worms in the _entrails. of a natural mru:-?70 He saw that rebellions were associated w1th overgrown Cltles and that merchants hated paying taxes.271 To the historian the obvious remedy for their discontent may r:�w seem to have �een their admission to a larger share of polincal power, but this Hobbes will not admit. Indeed he is hostile to the tendency of assemblies to depend upon the counsel of 'those who have been versed more in the acquisition of wealth than of knowledge'. 272

Professor Strauss, while recognising that Hobbes criticised the policy adopted by the middle classes in the Civil War, main­tains that Hobbes was sympathetic to the middle class itself. 273 He has an ally in Professor Macpherson, who attributes to Hobbes the 'novel' bourgeois view that 'material appetites are boundless and that no moral restraint can or need be placed on them'.274 There was, however, nothing new in Hobbes's assertion that man's acquisitive tendencies are unlimited, for it was made by both Aristotle275 and Aquinas,276 although neither lived in an infinitely expanding economy. Of course, both the�e auth�rs thought that limits should be placed

. �o hum� deSl!�s, while Hobbes is well-known for the propos1t1on that the desl!es, and other passions of man, are in themselves no sin' .277 But in practice

aea Spingarn, p. 55. 270 E.W. III, p. 321. m Behemoth, p. 126; E. W. IV, p. 439. 272 E. W. III, p. 174. 273 The political philosop/Jy of Hobbe.r, p. 118. m 'Hobbes today', p. 529. [Ch. 8, p. 176, above.] 275 Politic.r, 1257b.

' t76 Summa Tbeologica, II, I, q. xxx . .,art. 4. im E. W. III, p. 1 14. J. Whitehall (The Leviatban found out . • . , L�:mdon, 1679,

pp. 24-25) also assumed tha-t by making the passions morally neutral m themselves fiobbes was licensing acquisitiveness.

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his political and moral recommendations did involve curbing a great number of human passions.278 Among them was covetous­ness . For although Hobbes concedes that 'it be prudence . . . in private men, justly and moderately to enrich themselves',279 he considers that definite limits should be set to the pursuit of riches . Because infinite competition for wealth may disturb the public peace, it is against the law of nature for a man to 'strive to retain those things which to himself are superfluous, and to others necessary' .280 Thus to contend for 'superfluities', that is to say for more than is necessary for one's preservation, is a troublesome way of proceeding.2s1 Not only that, but endless acquisitiveness is bad in itself because it serves no useful purpose. Hobbes indeed displays signs of an older moral attitude, reminiscent of a static society, where wealth tends to be regarded as fixed in quantity rather than capable of infinite expansion. Aware that merchants make it their peculiar glory 'to grow excessively rich by the wisdom of buying and selling', 282 he nevertheless questions the fundamentals of their existence. What, he asks, 'to one that hath sufficient' is 'that overplus of monie . . . good for ?'283 Since his economic analysis gives no suggestion that he, any more than other contemporary economists, had any conception of an infinitely expanding market, it is not surprising that he should have believed that there are limits to the amount of money which anyone may reasonably acquire, and he could thus prescribe that the good judge should be distinguished by 'contempt . of unnecessm:_y tiches'.284 He regarded avarice, which is love of money 'si modum excedat', 285 as one of the greatest vices, 286 and he always employed the expression 'covetousness' pejoratively,287 recognising it as the root of men's estates,288 but laying his emphasis upon its importance as a cause of crime. 289

The basis of Hobbes's attitude to money-making is well expressed in the dedication of his unpublished treatise on optics. 'The desire of knowledge and desire of needlesse riches are

m E.W. III, pp. 153--154. m Behemoth, p. 44. 2so E. W. III, p. 139. 281 E. W. II, p. 36. 282 Behemoth, p. 126. 283 E.W. Vll, p. 467. 284 E. W. III, p. 269. 280 L. W. II, p. 108. 2sa Bebemoth, p. 155 ; E. W. II, p. iv; E.W. VI, p. 7. At the end of his verse Vita

he observes : lmprobus use potest nemo qui non .rit avaru.r, .

Nee pulchrum quisquam fecit avarrtt opu.r. L. W. I, p. xcix. 287 E.g. Behemoth, pp. 134,. 159. """ Behemoth, p. 54. •u E. W. III, p. 284.

218 K E I T H THOMAS

incompatible, and destructive one o f another'.290 Men seek riches as a prop to their vanity, and the richer they become the blinder do they grow to 'anything but their present profit'.291 Their avarice impedes the pursuit of any form of true knowledge, hiding the laws of nature, 292 concealing the existence of God, 293 and standing in the way of true political self-consciousness. · For 'man is then most troublesome, when he is most at ease : for then it is that he loves to show his wisdom, and control the actions of them that govern the commonwealth'.294 For Hobbes the example of the Athenians showed that 'much prosperity . . . maketh men in love with themselves' and that 'men profit more by looking on adverse events, than on prosperity' .295 Hobbes's attitude to prosperity was thus fundamentally ambivalent. He held that 'superfluous riches' were among the benefits of political society200 and that subjects should be enriched as much as was compatible with safety.297 At the same time his notion that prosperity must sooner or later prove incompatible with peace and political wisdom seems to derive from the old medieval tradition, according to which peace, plenty, pride, war, poverty and peace again succeeded each other in an endless cycle. 298 Like most cyclical theories of history this notion may be regarded as the product of a society where genuine progress is thought to be unattainable and of an economy which is static rather than dynamic.

It is misleading, therefore, to base too optimistic an inter­pretation of Hobbes's attitude to wealth upon his statement that 'riches, are honourable ; for they are power'.299 Professor Macpherson uses this text, together with its companion assertion that 'covetousness of great riches, and ambition of great honours, are honourable',300 to argue that Hobbes regarded unlimited accumulation as morally justified. 301 This interpretation is very

290 E.W. VII, p. 467. 291 Behemoth, p. 142. ••• E. W. II, p. 44. ••• E.W. II, p. 1 99n. 2M E. W. III, p. 157. a. E. W. II, p. 67. ••• E.W. Vlii, pp. xvi, xxiv. 296 Elements, p. 108. 297 E. W. II, p. 169; Elements, p. 143. 298 Some fifteenth and sixteenth century instances of its use in England are

given in S. C. Chew The virtues reconciled . . . , Toronto, 1947, pp. 125-126. There is a good example in Thynne Embleme.r and Epigrames, pp. 69-70. See also G .. N. Clark The Cycle of war and peace in modern history, Cambridge, 1 949.

299 E.W. III, p. 79, 800 E. W. III, p. 80. 301 The political theory qf possessive individualism, p. 237. Hobbes's contemporary

critic, A. Rosse, was guilty of a similar misunderstanding (Leviathan drawn out witb a hook . . . , London, 1653, p. 14).

S O C I A L O R I G I N S OF H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 219

hard to accept. For when Hobbes says that something is 'honourable' he means that it is regarded as a source of power, since 'all power is honourable, and the greatest power is most honourable'. 302 Hence when he comments upon the honourable character of riches or covetousness he is indicating no moral approval of the pursuit of wealth, but is simply making a state­ment about the working of a society in which possession of wealth carries with it power. Thus Hobbes, despite his passionate opposition to duelling, can remark without inconsistency that 'at this day, in this part of the world, private duels are, and always will be honourable . . . for duels also are many times effects of courage ; and the ground of courage is always strength or skill, which are power'.303 But Hobbes did not approve of duels, neither did he approve of covetousness.

None the less, he considered that all passions were morally neutral and that it was only actions which could be praised or blamed. Accordingly he explains that covetousness is 'a name used always in signification of blame ; because men contending for [riches] , are displeased with one another attaining them', whereas them, are displeased with one another attaining them', whereas properly speaking the desire for wealth should be j udged only 'according to the means by which these riches are sought'.304 This would suggest a distinction between what Hobbes might advise a man not to do, viz. pursue riches to the exclusion of all else, and what he regarded as justifiably subject to out-and-out moral condemnation, viz. pursuing them by foul means. The striking fact, however, is that he clearly considered that foul means were those most characteristic of the manner in which wealth was pursued by the commercial community of his day. For he criticises the Presbyterian clergy, who 'did never in their sermons, or but lightly, inveigh against the lucrative vices of men of trade or handicraft ; such as are feigning, lying, cozening, hypocrisy, or other uncharitableness'. Such vices he must have considered to be well-nigh universal among traders, for he observes that this omission on the part of the preachers 'was a great ease to the generality of citizens and the inhabitants of market-towns' .305

SOli E. W. IV, p. 295. 303 E. W. III, p. 81. a. Elements, pp. 26-27. 304 E. W. III, p. 44. Cf. the definition of covetousness offered by Hobbes's

disciple, Sir William Petty: 'a desire of more than wee want, with wrong to others.' The Petty papers • • . , (ed.) Marquis of Lansdowne, London, 1927, I, p. 162.

305 Behemoth, p. 25.

220 K E I T H T H O M A S

Preservation apart, Hobbes's own personal goals were intellectual ones, and be shared the disdain of the scholar for the making of money. In De hon;ine he came to the conclusion that riches were only an apparent good for, although great wealth might enable a man to purchase security, possessions tended to awaken envy. Provided one did not lack necessities, the better state was poverty, for then one would be free from the envious designs of others. 306 Hobbes was well aware that this was a minority viewpoint,307 but he remained firm in his view that the pursuit of wealth and sensual comfort kills intellectual curiosity, while those who lack the spirit of inquiry 'pass their time in making provision onely for their ease and sensual delight'.aos Curiosity, however, was a stronger passion than avarice and represented a higher form of human endeavour, for it dis­tinguished men from the beasts.309 A minimal standard of pros­perity was necessary, of course, as a pre-condition of intellectual activity, for 'leisure is the mother of philosopf?y'310 and 'the most part [of men] are too busy in getting food' to have time to spare for inquiry into the laws of nature.311 Hobbes reserved his scorn, however, for those men who had the leisure, but were too 'negligent'312 or too childish313 or too brutish314 to pursue the truth for its own sake, but merely sought profit or sensuous delight. For although Hobbes is normally associated with the 'Baconian' belief that knowledge is power and that speculation should aim at human benefit,311i he also shared an academic hank­ering after knowledge for knowledge's sake. He frequently stressed that it was the arts and sciences which distinguished his contemporaries from 'the wildest of the Indians' or 'the rude simpleness of antiquity', 316 but he nevertheless maintained that science was not mere technology; for if inventors were to be regarded as philosophers, then 'not only apothecaries and gardeners, but many other sorts of workmen, will put in for, and get the prize'. 317 The social overtones of the gibe are unmis­takeable. It is consistent with this highly on-bourgeois outlook that he should have regarded the universities as a place for those

aoo L.W. II, pp. 98-99. 307 E. W. IV, p. 256. aoo Spingarn, p. 66. 30• E. W. VII, p. 467; III. p. 44; Elements, p. 35. uo E. W. III, p. 666. 311 E. W. III, p. 144. 012 E. W. III, p. 144. 313 Spingarn, p. 66. 314 E. W. VII, pp. 467-468. 310 E. W. I, p. 7; Elements, p. 142; E.W. III, p. 664; E. IP. VII, p . 335. 316 Elements, p. 50; Spingarn, p. 60; E.W. II, p. iv. •17 E.W. IV, p. 437.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H OB B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 221

who 'being free to dispose of their own time, love truth for itself', rather than for those 'sent by their parents, as to a trade to get their living by'. 318

In order to maintain his contention that Hobbes saw 'no real good outside sensual goods and the means to acquire them', Professor Strauss discounts these apparent survivals of the contemplative ideal on the ground that they occur mainly in dedications and forewords.319 But this will hardly do. The remark just quoted concerning the universities appears in an elaborate controversial tract directed against Wallis and Ward, both Oxford professors, in which it may be presumed that Hobbes chose his words carefully. In any case the doctrine that seven­teenth century prefaces are to be disregarded as evidence of their authors' assumptions is not one which a serious student of the period can easily accept. Hobbes's apparent inconsistencies on the subject of the purpose of knowledge raise difficult problems, but they cannot be so easily sidestepped.320

Although Hobbes rejected the idea of a summum bonum or 'utmost end',321 it is not hard to see where the supreme values of this most cerebral of philosophers lay. He tells us that he did little else with his long life but meditate upon free will 'and other natural questions' and that he did this for his mind's sake.322 He held that the delight of intellectual enquiry 'exceedeth the short vehemence of any carnal pleasure',323 and he was appalled by the obscurantism of the Roman Catholic Church which attained its power 'by suppression of the natural sciences, and of the morality of natural reason'.324 A man's private opinions are notoriously dangerous aids in the elucidation of his philosophical doctrines. But it is worth noting the psychological improbability of the view that Hobbes, who openly boasted of his contempt for riches, devoted his political philosophy to making the world safe for the acquisitive classes.

Nor did his system give the acquisitive classes the security they sought. It has sometimes been implied that Hobbes was by no means unsympathetic to the bourgeois conception of independ-

ars E.W. VII, p. 345. 319 The political philosophy of Hobbes, pp. 34, 1 19. s2o The answer may well be that for Hobbes, as for Bacon, there was no real

opposition between truth and utility, theory and practice. Ipti.uimae ret sunt veritas et ttlilitas. See the perceptive remarks of P. Rossi 'Sui carattere non utilitaristico della filosofia di F. Bacone', Rivista critica di storia della ftlosofia, XII, 1957.

m Elements, p. 23; E.W. III, p. 85. 322 E. W. V. p. 63 ; E.lr"'. II, p. xix. a2s E.W. III, pp. 44-45. 3 .. E. W. III, p. 697.

222 K E I T H T H O M A S

ent property rights. The preface to De Cive can be taken a s an indication that the justification of property lay at the heart of Hobbes's investigation into politics. 'My first enquiry was to be, from whence it proceeded that any man should call anything rather his own, than another tJJan's'.325 It is notable also that Hobbes rejected communism in favour of a system of private property, while stressing that the latter could not exist in the state of nature, where there is 'no inheritance, to transmit to the son, nor to expect from the father'.326 There is no doubt that for Hobbes property was 'an effect of commonwealth' and so was any subsequent inequality of riches.327 In many respects his state can be regarded as a bulwark of property. The sovereign levies taxes so as to maintain private men in their callings and by up­holding property rights against the incursions of other subjects gives every citizen the security he requires. 'Each one securely enjoys his limited right' .328 Out of the commonwealth 'no man is sure of the fruit of his labours ; in it, all men are'.329 Moreover, the men of property gain more from the state than do the other citizens, since, although everyone receives 'the enjoyment of life, which is equally dear to poor and rich', Hobbes adds the import­ant qualification that 'the rich, who have the service of the poor, may be debtors [to the state] not only for their own persons but for many more'. 330

It may well be true, therefore, that, as Mr. Schlatter says, Hobbes conceived of his system as affording the best possible protection for private property.331 There are, however, a number . of important respects in which his view of property rights diverged from that held by the propertied classes of his own day. For, in the first place; there . is some reason for thinking that Hobbes valued private property, not for the private satisfactions it afforded, but simply because it appeared to him the best remedy against violence. For 'from a communi{y of goods there must needs arise contention, whose enjoyment should be greatest. And from that contention all kind of calamities must unavoidably

a!!S E.W. II, p. vi •

... E. W. III, p. 201. a21 E.W. III, p. 234; E. W. II, p. 38. ••• E. IP'. II, pp. 127, 188-189; E. IP'. III, pp. 333-334. 329 E.W. II, p. 127. 330 E.W. III, p. 334. aa1 R. B. Schlatter Private property . . • • , London, 1951, p. 141.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H OB B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 223

ensue'.332 ;�t was for similar reasons that he made it a law of nature 'that such things as cannot be divided, be erfioyed in comtJJon,'333 stressing that any division contrary to the interests of peace and security was to be reputed void.334

Secondly, Hobbes was disinclined to encourage endless acquisition. His traditional views on the subject of covetousness have already been emphasised. It should, furthermore, be noted that he was unwilling to permit men the luxury of private property rights when they jeopardised the livelihood of other men. He seems, indeed, to have postulated an ultimate natural right to a subsistence existence, for he stresses that a man can never abandon the right 'of defending his life, and tJJeans of iiving•.aas There would be contexts where this provision might constitute a serious bar to indefinite accumulation.

Thirdly, Hobbes's views on property differed in a crucial respect from those of his property-conscious contemporaries in that he allowed no property rights against the sovereign. 'The propriety which a subject hath in his lands, consisteth in a right to exclude all other subjects from the use of them; and not to exclude their sovereign, be it an assembly, or a monarch'. 336 As a conse­quence, the notion that private men had any absolute property rights against the state or could withhold taxation without consent was to be abhorred as a doctrine tending to the dissolution of the commonwealth.337 Thus, in the one issue where property rights in Hobbes's day were seriously disputed, Hobbes abandoned the interests of possessing classes altogether. It was not surprising that his contemporaries classed his views on property with those of the Royalist clergy, Sibthorp and Manwaring, who taught that all property was subject to the king. Indeed Hobbes himself told Aubrey that Manwaring 'preach'd his doctrine'.338 He had no sympathy with the reluctance of propertied members of Parlia­ment to grant taxes, and openly scoffed at Hampden's case and the 'grievance' of ship-money. 'Mark the oppression; a Parlia­ment-man of 5001. a year, land-taxed at 20s.'339 Like Pericles,340 Hobbes regarded public property as far more important than that of the private citizens, and he displayed positive malevolence

••• E. W. II, pp. vi-vii . 33• E. W. III, p . 142. 334 E. W. III, p. 235. sso E.W. III, p. 125. 836 E. W. III, p. 235. .•37 E. W. III, p. 313. ""Aubrey Brid lives, p. 243. Cf. ]. Whitehall The Levtathan found out, p. 7 ;

Clarendon A brief view and survry, p . 55. ss• Behemoth, pp. 2, 37. 34o E. W. VIII, p. 213.

224 K E I T H T H O M A S

t o the great guardian of private rights, the common l�w. Ironic­ally, it fell to the conservative Clarendon to refute Hobbes's views on property, on the characteristically bourgeois grounds that 'if trade be necessary to the good of a nation, it must be founded upon the known .right of propriety, not as against other subjects only, but against the sovereign himsel£'.341

It has sometimes been argued that Hobbes's views on sove­reignty were fundamentally harmonious with the true interests of the propertied classes of his day, in the sense that the notion of such a sovereign is logically required if independent property rights are to be conceivable and enforceable in the first place.342 Jt is obviously true that in a warlike or disturbed society the only true guarantor of property is the sovereign; and there were certainly some of Hobbes's contemporaries who thought that an absolute monarchy was in practice a better guardian of private property than a more democratic regime. 3411 In the actual context of the reign of Charles I, however, Hobbes's political views were correctly diagnosed by contemporaries as constituting a threat to the interests of the propertied classes, and it would be im­possibly over-'ingenious to argue to the contrary. Arbitrary taxation, though slight by continental standards, was indisputably a threat to the interests of landowners and merchants alike, so that even Professor Macpherson has to admit that, in the context of the time, Hobbes's approach 'did not recommend his views to those who thought property the central social fact'. 344 As Sir Matthew Hale remarked, 'If once men be under that jealousie that , the laws of the landes doe not sufficiently fix their properties and liberties, mans mindes will be pendulous and unquiett and subject to feares and doubts, and thereupon industrie and paines will wither and decay, whatsoever orations men of witt and elo­quence may otherwise make to secure them'.346

It i s difficult to avoid the conclusion that Hobbes provided no effective guarantees for private property because he was not

"''A brief view and survry, pp. 98-99. Cf. G. Lawson An examination of the political part of lv!r. Hobbs his Leviathan, pp. 82-86, 131 .

342 E.g. Macpherson The political theory of possessive individualism, pp. 95-96. a.s R. B. Schlatter The social ideas of religious leaders, 166G-1 688, London, 1940,

p. 100 ; Schlatter Priv;'te property, .P· ! 17. Cf. R. �ousnier 'Comment les fran�ais du XVIIe siecle voyatent la COOS!Itu_tl<�n! xr:ue Siecle, 25-26, 1955, p. 28.

34< The political theory of possemve indtvidtuJitsm, pp. 256-257. 345 Sir. W. Holdsworth A history of English Law, V (2nd ed.) London, 1937,

Appx. III, p. 512.

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S'

S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 225 primarily concerned to do so. For him the greatest value was not property but life, as is symbolised by his maintenance of the proposition that it is no crime to steal in order to keep alive. 'When a man is destitute of food, or other thing necessary for his life, and cannot preserve himself by any other way, but by some fact against the law; as if in a great famine he take the food by force, or stealth, which he cannot obtain for money nor charity . . . he is totally excused'.346 In the economic conditions of the seventeenth century this was no mere academic issue; the weavers of Hobbes's home town of Malmesbury, for example, had been reduced to pilfering as the alternative to starvation in the dearth of 1614.347 In condoning such desperate measures Hobbes was re-stating a traditional medieval doctrine, for the casuists of the medieval church had come to maintain that all things were common in time of necessity, so that theft was a permissible alternative to starvation. This doctrine had been given papal sanction in 1279 and had secured the support of the civil lawyers.348 Even the common law of medieval England had treated theft in the time of necessity as unpunishable if below the value of twelve pence.349 By the middle of the seventeenth century, however, a decisive change was taking place. Sir Matthew Hale pronounced authoritatively that in England, where a system of state poor relief had existed since the reign of Elizabeth, such concessions could no longer be permitted, for otherwise 'men's properties would be under a strange insecurity, being laid open to other men's necessities, whereof no man can possibly j udge, but the party himself'. He further took the opportunity to observe that some 'very bad use hath been made of this concession by some of the Jesuitical casuists in F ranee, who have thereupon advised apprentices and servants to rob their masters, when they have judged themselves in want of necessaries

••• E. W. Ill, p. 288. 347 G. D. Ramsay The Wiltshire woollen industry in the sixteenth and seventeenth

centwies, London, 1943, pp. 72-73n. A William Hobbes was among those who petitioned on their behalf around this period.

34• Some phrases in the evolution of this doctrine are discussed in G. Couvreur Les pauvres ont-ils des droits? Recherches sur /e vol en cas d'extrime necessite . • • . (Analecta Grcgoriana), Rome, 1961. Other examples are to be found in W. Ullmann The medieval idea of law as represented by Lucas de Penna • . . , London, 1946, p. 154, and B. Tierney Medieval Poor Law . . . . , Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1959, pp. 38, 147.

349 BrWon . . . (ed.) F. M. Nichols, Oxford, 1865, I, p. 42; The mirror of jt�slices (ed.) W. J. Whittaker, (Selden Society, 1895), p. 141 ; The commentaries . . . of E. Plowden, London, 1779, I, p. 19.

Q

226 K E I T H T H O M A S

. . . and by this means let loose . . . all the ligaments of property and civil society'. 350 This new and harsher interpretation carried the day, receiving ultimately the endorsement of Blackstone, who observed that 'in England, where charity is reduced to a system, and interwoven in our very constitution . . . itis impossible that the most needy stranger should ever be reduced to the necessity of thieving to support nature'. As a consequence the excuse of necessity could no longer be pleaded.351

A comparable evolution can be traced in the works of the casuists. The doctrine of necessity had been upheld in the works of continental writers like Covarruvias and Grotius and was at first sympathetically received by English moralists. 352 During the course of the seventeenth century, however, the general attitude visibly hardened and the concessions to the poor were whittled down until Richard Baxter in his Christian Directory (1673) could assert that 'ordinari!y it is a duty, rather to dye, than take another man's goods against his will', on the ground that 'in ordinary cases, the saving of a man's life will not do so much good as his stealing will do hurt. Because the lives of ordinary persons are of no great concernment to the common good. And the violation of the laws may encourage the poor to turn thieves, to the loss of the estates and lives of others'. 353

In championing the rights of the poor Hobbes was thus upholding a doctrine whose origins lay in the Middle Ages and whose foundations were coming under attack in his own day as a result of the new pressure to secure absolute rights in private property. Yet he stuck to a point of view which was being

350 Historia Placitorum Coronae . . . (ed.) S. Emlyn (revd. by G. Wilson), London, 1778, I, p. 54.

351 Commentaries on the laws of England . . . (4th ed.), Oxford, 1770, IV, pp. 31-32. 352 Covarruvias Opera omnia . . . , Antwerp, 1638, I, p. 466; Grotius War and

peace, trans. W. Evats, London, 1682, p. 81 ; [H. Parker] Dives and pauper, London, 1534, f. 243v; W. Ames Conscience with the power and cases thereof. . . , n. pl., 1639, p. 260 (3rd set of pagination) ; A. Ascham Of the confusions and revolutions of governments. . . . , (2nd ed.), London, 1649, p. 13.

353 London, 1673, II, p. 1 10. For other examples of an increasing reluctance to make concessions see (]. Dod and R. Cleaver) A plaine andfami!iar exposition of the Ten Commandments . . . , (16th ed.), London, 1625, pp. 287-288 ; The whole works of . . . Jeremy Taylor, London, 1847-1854, VI, 274, X, p. �39; H .

. Hamm�n.d A

practical catechism, (16th cd.), Oxford, 1847, pp. 282-283. An mterestmg translttonal case is G. Towerson An explication of the Decalogue . . . , London, 1676, pp. 444-445. The older view is still to be found in S. Shaw The true Christians test . . . , London, 1682, p. 51, and J. Lowde A discourse concerning the nature of man, p. 178. The

_Roman

Catholic version of the doctrine was also attenuated, by Innocent XI 111 1679 (Dictionnaire de Thiologie Catho!ique, s.v. 'vol', col. 3297.)

S O C I A L O R I G I N S O F H O B B E S ' s P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 227

rejected by all the obviously bottrgeois thinkers of his age. In a number of important respects his ideas on property were thus strikingly unprogressive. His assumption that rights in property were conditional upon the wishes of an arbitrary sovereign and the needs of the poor had no future. Indeed the denial of such conditions was a necessary element in the philosophical back­ground to the Industrial Revolution.354

* * *

There remains the question of Hobbes's attitude to the economic relations between men obtaining in political society. According to Professor Macpherson, Hobbes 'found no room for moral principles not deducible from market relations' and reduced 'life itself . . . to a commodity'.355 This interpretation would make Hobbes the arch-exponent of the moral and juris­prudential conventions of early capitalist society. It has been persuasively argued and deserves careful consideration.

It is obviously the case that Hobbes accepted 'market values' in so far as he thought there could be nothing unjust about buying and selling conducted in accordance with the rules laid down by the sovereign. This does not mean that he held there was no morality relating to commercial dealings, but simply that he considered the only morality was that enforced by the state. He had accordingly no notion of 'just price' other than market price and set no limits to legitimate private profit. 'The value of all things contracted for, is measured by the appetite of the con­tractors : • .and therefore the just value, is that which they be contented to give'.356 For 'though the thing bought be unequal to the price given for it ; yet forasmuch as both the buyer and the seller are made judges of the value, and are thereby both satisfied : there can be no injury done on either side'.357 Hobbes thus maintained what, at the time, was said to be a common maxim in 'the shops of trade', namely that a thing was worth whatever a man would give for it, a doctrine which Baxter was still con­cerned to refute years later.358 Hobbes was clearly a step ahead of many of his contemporaries in his readiness to treat just price as

354 See the comments of R. Maspetiol 'Droit de propriete, puissance souveraine et revolution industrielle au XVIIe sic':cle', Archives de Philosophic du Droit, 7, 1962.

355 The political theory of possessive individualism, pp. 237, 219-220. 356 E. W. III, p. 137. 357 Elements, p. 65. Cf. E. W. II, p. 34. 358 Elements, p. 27 ; The works of . . . ]. Hall . . . (ed.) P. Wynter, Oxford, 1863,

VII, p. 276; R. Baxter A Christian directory . . . (2nd ed.), London, 1678, Part IV, p. 103.

228 KEITH THOMAS

synonymous with market price. He believed in the market as a commercial institution, considering that all manufactures increased 'by being vendible' and that a man's labour was 'a commodity exchangeable for benefit, as well any other thing'. 359 He was even capable of employing commercial metaphors to describe political relationships. 360

There is also reason to think that he favoured what we should regard to-day as an extreme state of internal laisserjaire. Thus when observing that the liberty of the subject comprises those 'things, which in regulating their actions, the sovereign hath praetermitted' he cites as instances 'the liberty to buy, and sell, and otherwise contract with one another; to choose their own abode, their own diet, their own trade of life, and institute their children as they themselves think fit; and the like'.361 It is hardly necessary to emphasise that not one of these 'liberties' had been recognised by previous Tudor and Stuart governments, whose elaborate codes of social and economic regulation had extended to these and many other matters. But we have no reason for thinking that Hobbes himself intended them to stand as unassailable liberties.362 They are presented as hypothetical examples of freedom from control and are omitted altogether in the Latin version of Leviathan.363 Indeed they are implicitly refuted in those passages where Hobbes advocates sumptuary laws regulating the consumption of food and clothes,364 for these measures would presumably be incompatible with any liberty for men to 'choose their own diet'. His educational proposals would similarly conflict with men's liberty to 'institute their children as they think fit'.

None the less, it may be fairly concluded that Hobbes objected to many features of the old industrial code, notably to internal monopolies, 365and considered that the state should concentrate its main attention upon the regulation of overseas trade. His attitude seems to be that the commonwealth exists to provide a framework of security in which wealth may be pursued, but not

359 E. W. III, pp. 338, 233. 360 E.g. Behemoth, p. 72. 361 E.W. III, p. 199. 362 Cf. Macpherson 'Hobbes today' p. 528. [Ch. 8, p. 175, above.] 363 L.W. III, p. 161. 364 E.g. Elements, p. 143 ; E. W. II, p. 178. 36'E.W. III, pp. 219, 320. He regarded the privileges of the Stationers' Company

as 'a very great hinderance to the advancement of all humane learning'. Brief lives . • . by John Aubr�y (ed.) A. Clark, Oxford, 1898, I, p. 381. In Elements, p. 67, he went so far as to make freedom of trade a law of nature.

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to interfere with its distribution. The only specific limit set to private acquisitive activity appears to be the requirement that it shall involve no 'danger, or hurt to the commonwealth', by which it is presumably meant that defence is to come before opulence.366 This reservation is an important one, for it reminds us that Hobbes put power before plenty and was envisaging no simple society of shop-keepers as the end-product. Nor is he indifferent to the interests of the consumer, for it is from his point of view that he objects to monopolies. He was also prepared to counten­ance primogeniture, a system of inheritance which Professor Macpherson has elsewhere described as obstructive to the growth of capitalist relations.36 7 In general, however, his economic position was, in the context of his age, extremely advanced and it l\ constitutes the most obviously bourgeois aspect of his thought.

His economic recommendations, however, were not an indis­pensable _part of his political thought, for he left to the sovereign the right to determine 'what we may contract for, and what not'. 368

This position is as much the necessary preliminary to a programme of elaborate state interference as to one of laisserjaire. Hobbes's own preferences are clear enough, but his political ideas were consistent _with either course.

The alternative economic policy is revealed by Hobbes's state Poor Law, which is intended not only to compel the idle to worl-:, but to guarantee the necessities of life to those who 'by � accident inevitable, become unable to maintain themselves by their labour'.369 In such a society, where relief is afforded the impotent poor, whose labour will never be of advantage to the state or to any private individual, it seems misleading to say with Professor Macpherson that Hobbes has reduced 'life itself . . . to a commodity'. For Hobbes presupposed that all men have a natural right to the means of livelihood, 370 and intended that the state should secure this for them when they had become unable to do so for themselves. Similarly, it is because he recognised the plight of the poor that he held that 'to rob a poor man, is a greater

366 E. W. III, p. 322. Cf. p. 237. He does, however, have some notions as to how private men ought to employ their wealth, but since their rights to property do not depend upon their ability to make good use of it he does not develop this point, E. W. III, p. 84.

367E. W. III, p. 143 ; 'Harrington as realist: a rejoinder,' Past and Present, April 1963, pp. 84-85 .

36s E. W. II, p. 86 ; E. W. III, p. 237. 369 E. W. III, p. 334. 370 E. W. III, p. 125.

230 KEITH T H O M A S

crime, than to rob a rich man ; because it i s to the poor a more sensible damage'.371 In a purely market society the impotent and old would presumably be abandoned since they command no market price. In Hobbes's state they ate preserved.

Professor Macpherson, however, bases his interpretation upon Hobbes's statement that 'the valt�e, or WORTH of a man, is as of all other things, his price; that is to say, so much as would be given for the use of his power : and therefore is not absolute ; but a thing dependant on the need and judgment of another'.372 He presumably takes this to support his view that there is no room in Hobbes's theory for any assessment of men in terms of their contribution or their need. 373 Although this interpretation would probably have had the support of Marx, 374 it would seem to be misleading. It is quite possible that, in its widest sense, Hobbes's statement is not concerned with economic transactions in early capitalist society at all, but rather with the nature of human reputation, which, in any society, is by definition 'no more than it is esteemed by others'.375 In the courtly literature of medieval Germany, for example, it was recognised that men are judged by repute rather than by any intrinsic value. In such a context the value of a man is his price ; indeed Prls (from pretiun;) was used by the Middle High German poets to mean praise or fame, and was synonymous with Werdekeit or Wirde.376 In this feudal society, therefore, a man's varue was none other than his price. This does not indicate the extent of market relationships ; it simply p1eans that reputation must necessarily depend upon the opinions of others. Accordingly Hobbes concludes 'For let a man, as most men do, rate themselves at the highest value they can ; yet their true value is no more than it is esteemed byothers. '377

But whatever the meaning of Hobbes's statement (and it would seem too terse and too isolated to be capable of adequate clarification) it is clear that he was at pains to provide other

m E. W. III, p. 296. 372 E. W. III, p. 76. .

3" The political theory of possessive individualism, pp. 37-39, 64. 314 Capital, trans. E. and C. Paul (Everyman ed.), 1930, p. 158; Histoire des

doctrines liconomiques, trans. J . Molitor, Paris, 1924-1925, II, p. 46. 816E. W. Ill, p. 76; Cf. Mr. J. H. Elliott's description of the aristocratic milim of

sixteenth-century Spain : 'The watchword of this society was honour, which implied to a Spaniard something external to his person-his worth as evaluated by other people.' Imperial Spain, 1469- 1 7 1 6, London, 1963, p. 215.

376 Jones Honor in German literature, p. 86. 377 E. IF. III, p. 76.

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standards by which men may be assessed. A man's value depends upon the opinion of others, as we have seen, but his tnerit or desert arises from the contractual relationships into which he has entered378; while his worthiness sterns from his capacity for well discharging some particular function. 379 In the civil state, moreover, a man's worth is determined by the will of the sove­reign. 'The public worth of a man, which is the value set on him by the commonwealth, is that which men commonly call DIGNITY.'380 Of these four criteria, valt�e, merit, worthiness, and dignity, it is only the first two which in any sense arise from the operation of a market society. Furthermore, the function of the state is tq. replace the value set on a man by other men by his official value, which is determined by the sovereign, thus inter­rupting the ml!rket process. Hobbes has no intention of permit­ting the price of a man to supersede all other criteria. True, he restricts his use of the word value to those occasions when it is synonymous with price, aai the main purpose of this device being to inhibit judgment upon market transactions deriving from some external moral standard. Accordingly he stresses that we can i1ljure no one when distributing our own, though giving 'more to a man··than he merits', nor when making a contract, though selling 'dearer than we buy'. 382 This position certainly involves the rejection of older standards of distributive and commutative justice as some of his contemporaries would have understood them. It does not, however, give us an adequate account of how Hobbes thinks that men in fact should be treated, whether by their fellows or by the state. For the laws of nature require citizens to recognise each other's claims to life, as those of their equals by nature. a sa Men must further recognise that in civil society it is the sovereign, not the market, which determines differences of human worth.384 Furthermore, the state, by its protection of the poor and impotent, serves as a barrier against the unimpeded operation of the market. The sovereign in his distribution of offices and rewards will take into account the differences in human contribution ; in his social policy he will be aware of differences of need. In neither case will life be treated as a commodity; nor will men be left to the mercy of the market.

m E. IV. III, pp. 84, 123. 379 E. I¥'. III, p. 84. 380 E. W. III, p. 76. Cf. p. 283. 381 Cf. E. IV. III, p. 137, with L . W. III, p. 1 16. In L.W. III, p. 69, he speaks

of 'valorem sive pretium hominis'. m E. uv. III, p. 137. 333 E. W. III, p. 141 . ••• E.W. III, p. 28:-\

232 KEITH THOMAS

Finally it must be emphasised that Hobbes did not altogether share the assumptions animating the legal code under whose protection early English capitalism first flourished. We have already noticed how his concession to the starving man of the right to steal in time of emergency conflicted with the growing desire to provide more elaborate protection for the rights of property. Like the radical law reformers of his day Hobbes hefd that 'there is no proportion between goods and life'.386 Unlike the English common lawyers he was prepared to recognise that the necessity for self-preservation was good grounds for dis­obeying the criminal law.386 It is true that he does not specifically urge the abolition of those branches of the criminal law of his day which made life the penalty for infringements of property ; indeed he seems to think that capital punishment could some­times be a useful deterrent against stealing.387 But in general he appears more ready to place life above the requirements of property and commerce tqan were his contemporaries.

It has sometimes been said that the stress on covenants which figures so largely in Hobbes's work is an echo of the preoccupa­tions of an increasingly capitalist society, where the legal enforce­ability and negotiability of contracts is an essential preliminary to economic expansion. 388 But his views on contracts are by no means those of his more bourgeois contemporaries. He had the law on his side when he argued that a man was bound to endeavour to perform an obligation he had undertaken, even when it subse­quently turned out to be impossible.389 But whereas contem­porary casuists maintained that a man should stick by his word even if it turned out to involve his self destruction, 390 Hobbes is consistent in his view that self-preservation must come first. A

385 W. T(omlinson) Seven particulars . . . , London, 1657, p. 15. •s• Cf. G. Williams 'The defence of necessity', Current Legal Probleuu, 6, 1953.

The law conceded, however, that necessity negatived liability in tort. Mouse's Ca;e (1609), The report; of Sir Edn,ard Coke . . . , London, 1738, XII, p. 63. as7 E. W. IV, p. 253. He is aware, however, of some of the law's inconsistencies on this subject, E. W. VI, p. 94.

388 Thus Mr. Hill(Puritanism and Revolntion, p. 283. n.1.) describes an enclosure agreement as an 'excellent t:xample of a Hobbist contract'.

389 E. W. III, p. 126. The decisive legal case was Paradine v. Jane (1647)(J. Aleyn Select casu . . . , London, 1681, pp. 26-28), which is presumably the background to Ireton's famous remark at Putney in the same year that 'any man that makes a bargaine and does finde afterwards 'tis for the worse yett is bound to stand to itt'. (C. H. Firth (ed.) The Clarke papers, I (Camden Society, 1891) p. 404). .

390 E.g. Tbe II'Orks of R. Sanderson, VI, p. 373; Tbe n•orkes of • . . 117. Per!uns, Cambridge, 1609-1612, I, p. 6 5 ; Table talk of)obn Selden (ed.) Sit F. Pollock, London, 1927, p. 69.

S O C I A L O R I G r :-; s O F H O B B E S'

s P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 233

covenant of mutual trust in the state of nature is void 'upon any reasonable suspicion',391 while in civil society 'the obligation of subjects to the sovereign, is understood to last as long, and no longer, than the power lasteth, by which he is able to protect them'.392 To this extent, therefore, Hobbes did not believe in the absolute sanctity of contracts.

So far as can be ascertained, the law seems to have been behind Hobbes in his view that contracts could not bind to the point of self-destruction, 393 but he parts company from it, at least in spirit, when he comes to define the other circumstances in which a contract might be set aside. In the common law courts of his day it was generally accepted that a contract made by duress or extortion-that is, by actual or threatened violence or imprison­ment-could not be upheld. 'If a man makes an obligation by duress, he shall avoid it.'394 Hence if a thief demanded a man's money or his life and he chose to hand over his money, this would not be a free contract, but robbery.395 Nor is this merely a legal principle. In Hobbes's day most moralists would have agreed with Locke's subsequent assertion that promises obtained by force do not bind. As Ames put it, 'the consent which is wrested by extreme feare is not sufficient to a firme contract'. 396

Ever since the devastating analysis by Marx it has been generally realised that this definition of duress as consisting only of threatened violence or imprisonment is impossibly narrow. The formal freedom of the contracting parties can conceal a fundamental inequality of bargaining power, which can effectively restrict freedom of choice, even though no physical duress is employed. By concentrating solely on physical coercion the English common law courts made no allowance for the various forms of economic coercion which might lead a man 'freely' to contract to work for low wages or to pay high prices for food, when loss of life was as much the alternative as it would have been, had the agreement been made at the point of a pistol. The

391 E.W. III, p. 124. 392 E W/. III, p. 208. ••• In the case of Lawrence v. Twentiman (1611) (H. Rolle Un abridgmmt des plusienrs mses . . . , London, 1668, I, p. 450) it was ruled that a builder did not have to com­

plete the building of a house by the promised date in an area where the plague had subsequently broken out, because the law would not compel him to risk his life.

394 The commentaries of E. Pftm,tkn, I, p. 19. 395 W. Young A Vade Mecutn . . . (6th ed.), London, 1660, p. 86. 396 Conscience witb the power and cases thereof, p. 227 (3rd set of pagination);

Patriarcba and other political works of Sir: Robert Filmer, p. 104; J. Locke Two treatises of government . . . (ed.) P. Laslett, Cambridge, 1960, pp. 403-404, 410-411 .

234 K E I T H T H O M A S

freedom of contract s o often proclaimed a s an essential liberty, and indubitably essential for the growth of capitalism, was thus freedom of the most formal and deceptive kind.397

It is striking, however, that this artificial distinction between pbysical duress, which is good grounds for voiding a contract, and economic duress, which is not, receives no support from Hobbes, to whom the distinction is a spurious one. Instead he treats contracts as equally binding whatever their origins. 'It is,' he admits, 'a usual question, whether compacts extorted from us through fear, do oblige or not. For example, if, to redeem my life from the power of a robber, I promise to pay him 1001. next day, and that I will do no act whereby to apprehend and bring him to justice : whether I am tied to keep promise or not.'398 To this conventional problem Hobbes gives an unconventional answer, maintaining firmly that such a promise is binding. 'Covenants entered into by fear, in the condition of mere nature, are obliga­tory'. 399 In the civil state they still bind unless the thing promised is specifically forbidden by the sovereign. 'For whatsoever I may lawfully do without obligation, the same I may lawfully covenant to do through fear : and what I lawfully covenant, I cannot law­fully break'.400

It i s easy to see why Hobbes feels it necessary to maintain this paradoxical position. Since the covenant upon which his com­monwealth rests is itself founded upon fear, he cannot deny the validity of such agreements. 'If it were true [that all covenants 'as proceed from fear of death or violence' were void] no man, in any kind of commonwealth, could be obliged to obedience'. 401

Hobbes's system therefore requires him to deny that there is any good distinction between contracts into which coercion has entered and those into which it has not. He is, moreover, able to reinforce his position with some curious logic. A covenant obliges if it has been undertaken voluntarily. But what makes an act voluntary ? Hobbes's answer is that it is voluntary if it 'proceedeth from the will, and no other' ; that is to say, if it is not involuntary like blinking or sleepwalking. But since will

m Marx Capital, J, p. 420; II, p. 853; ] . R. Commons Legal foundations of capital­ism, New York, 1924, chap. 3 ; R. L. Hale 'Bargaining, duress, and economic liberty', Columbia Law RetJiew, XLIII, 1943. More scope for voiding contracts was, of course, provided by Equity ; in general, however, the limitations upon freedom of contract in modern times have had to be provided by statute.

soe E. fJ7. II, pp. 23�24. 399 E. W. III, p. 126. <oo E. W. III, p. 127. 401 E.IP'. III, p. 185.

S O C I A L O R I G IN S O F H O B B E S ' S P O L I T I C A L T H O U G H T 235

'is the last appetite in deliberating', it follows 'that not only actions that have their beginning from covetousness, ambition, lust, or other appetites to the thing pwpounded ; but also those that have their beginning from aversion, or fear of those consequences that follow the omission, are voluntary actions'. 402 A covenant made at the point of a pistol is therefore as voluntary as one made out of friendship or generosity, and there are no grounds for distinguishing between the two. So, to employ Aristotle's famous example, when a man throws his goods overboard to stop the ship sinking 'there is nothing there involuntary but the hardness of the choice'.403

Modern philosophers may feel that so elastic a definition of 'voluntary' raises more problems than it solves, since they have now to search for a fresh analysis of what it is we feel to be unsatisfactory about a covenant made at the point of a gun. But Hobbes has the advantage of a consistent position,404 which serves to remind us that, if we shift our attention from the voluntariness of the act to the appetites or aversions which prompted it, we will find no qualitative distinction between actions impelled by physical fear and those prompted by economic coercion. In sum, Hobbes, far from subscribing to one of the most fundamental jurisprudential assumptions of a laisser-faire capitalist society, has gone a long way towards removing its philosophical basis altogether. He was not alone among his contemporaries in manifesting scepticism about the distinction between bargains arrived at by physical force and those dictated by other forms of coercion,405 but it has seldom been emphasised just how incompatible his position on this matter was with the assumptions of what Professor Macpherson calls 'a market society'. Admittedly, Hobbes does not advocate interference with bargains made under market pressures, and his political theory is directed towards the removal of non-economic forms of

•o• E. W'. Ill, pp. 48-49. ••• Elements, p . 48. a. E. IV. III, p. 197 ; E. W/. V, p. 260; Much of The questionr

concerning Jiberry, necessiry, and chance (E. U."'. V), relates to Hobbes's position on this matter and Bramhall's objections to it. Cf. E. W. IV, p. 243 ; Nic. Eth., 1110a.

•••Although at one point he weakens it by making a distinction between 'con-straint' and 'consent', E. W. II, p. 12.

405 E.g. Bishop Hall occupies a position very close to Hobbes, although con­tinuing to employ Aristotle's notion of actions which were neither voluntary nor involuntary, but 'mixed' w·orks, VII, 289�291 . Jeremy Taylor (!Forks, X, pp. 643�644) shows strong of Hobbes's influence. Sanderson (Jf .. orks, IV, pp. 302-306) also thinks that agreements made in fear should be kept.

236 K E I T H T H OM A S

coercion in daily life. But when physical force does enter into the making of a contract, he specifically rejects the common law doctrine of duress, the fundamental doctrine in a system of jurisprudence which served to protect the interests of those with superior economic power.

* *

It seems that no simple formula is adequate to convey the peculiar flavour of Hobbes's political thought. He lived in an age of change and it is not surprising that he should have sub­scribed to a variety of what were to some extent contradictory social assumptions. An effort to disentangle the strands only serves to reveal how closely aristocratic, bottrgeois and popular elements were interwoven. Some of the resulting paradoxes have emerged in this paper. It has been shown that, in his efforts to persuade the aristocracy to adapt themselves to a world where military power was ceasing to be the basis of personal influence, Hobbes went back to ethical standards deriving from the age of chivalry. It has also been seen that, although he looked forward to the time when all men would attain political self-consciousness, he nevertheless restricted many of his most important political recommendations to the gentry and the men of leisure. Finally, it has been noted that the very economic trends which his political recommendations were perhaps best calculated to advance were precisely those with which he was personally most out of sympathy. It is salutary to recall that his ultimate goals for human endeavour-- -peace, civilisation and intellectual progress­have a social appeal which will always be potentially universal. /

1 0

P H IL O S O PHY A N D P O L I T I C S IN H O B B E S

]. W. N. Watkins

(i) INTRODUCTION

If a thing is divided into parts, there is nothing agaimt its having the property of uniry. Plato.

FOR Bacon, the philosopher's job is to discover the principles common to the special sciences, to develop a natural philo­

sophy, or 'universal science' which stands to the special sciences as a tree-trunk to its branches. For Locke, on the contrary, the philosopher is not a super-scientist such as the 'incomparable Mr. Newton' ; the philosopher does not examine the external world, even in its most universal aspects. His job is 'to examine our own abilities', i.e. to conduct a critical second-order enquiry into the mental processes and methods involved in first-order enquiries.

This shift from natural philosophy to critical philosophy is uncompleted in Hobbes' thought. What he says about philo­sophy echoes Bacon; what he does when he is philosophising largely foreshadows Locke. His definition of philosophy equates it with science (De Corp., i, 2 ; E. ff?. II, p. iv; Lev., p. 435) and the dtle of his major philosophic work, De Corpore, suggests a study of nature. Such a study, however, occurs only in Part Four ('The Phenomena of Nature') which is in any case largely occupied by an analysis of sensation. The earlier and more important Parts are concerned with such typical second-order topics as : the methods of physics, geometry and civil philosophy; the meaning of 'cause' and 'effect' ; the nature of language and the function of universal terms. Hobbes is the author of a rudi­mentary natural philosophy of the world, and also of a full�

fledged and highly distinctive critical philosophy of our language and knowledge of the world. I .

1[A fuller treatment of Hobbes' ideas and their inter-connections will be found in the

. same author's Hobbes's System of Ideas, to be published in 1965 by Messrs.

Hutchinson.]

238 ) • W . N . \\C A T K I N S

Students of Hobbes who have asked, 'What do his political doctrines owe to his philosophy? ' have mostly confined them­selves to the question of a relation between his politics and his natural philosophy, i.e. his materialism. 2 This is no doubt largely due to Hobbes himself. As we have seen, his definition of philosophy diverts attention to his conception of nature ; and in the 'Preface to the Reader' in De Cive Hobbes suggests that he had once intended to derive from his conception of nature his con­ception of human nature, and from his conception of human nature his conception of government. And this does suggest that the ques­tion, 'What do Hobbes' political doctrines owe to his philosophy ?' can be reformulated as 'Did he derive his psychology from his materialism?' :t\ow the answer to this question is obvious. Psycho­logical conclusions about thoughts, feelings and wants cannot be de­duced from materialistic premisses about bodily movements : there­fore Hobbes must have made a fresh start when he turned from nature to psychology and politics. And this answer appears to be clinched by Hobbes' further statement in the same Preface that 'approaching war . . . ripened and plucked from me this third part. Therefore it happens that what was last in order, is yet come forth first in time, and the rather, because I saw that grounded on its own principles sufficiently known by experience it would not stand in need of the former sections'.

I wish to answer the wider question, 'What do Hobbes' political doctrines owe to his whole philosophy, both natural and critical ?' My thesis will be that the skeleton of Hobbes' argu­ment in Parts I and II of Leviathan can (except for one empirical assumption) be derived from his whole philosophical system. In ...._ section (ii) I shall show that Hobbes' main philosophical notions

2 Prof. Leo Strauss's brilliant, infl uential and, I believe, misguided work is discussed in the text. G. C. Robertson (Hobbes, p. 57), A. E. Taylor (Thomas Hobbes, p. 44), john Laird (Hobbes, pp. 244-5), B. E. Jessup (EthiCs, !viii, 3, 1948), and S. P. Lampre��t (De Cive, N. Y., Introduction, p. xvii) all held that Hobbes' psychology and poht!cs are autonomous because they were not, and could not have been, derived from his materialism. On the other hand, G. E. G. Catlin (Thomas Hobbes, as Philosopher, Publicist, and Man of Letters, p . 14 and article on 'Hobbes' in The Enryclopaedia of the Social Sciences) and Leslie Stephen (Hobbes, p. 73) held that Hobbes' psychology and politics are not autonomous because they were derived from his materialism. Stephen, however, quoted a passage from Hobbes which rules out his own interpretation: 'the principles of natural science . . . cannot teach us our own nature' (p. 151). In Prof. Oakeshott's Introduction to Leviathan (pp. xvii-xix) we have, for the first time I believe, the suggestion that Hobbes' thought is neither a disunity because the politics were not derived from his materialism, nor a unity because the politics were derived from his materialism, but a system because it i s controlled b y a critical, second-o.rder philosophical theory.

PHILOSOPHY AN D POLITI C S I N HOBBES 239

were temporally prior to his political theorising. Then I shall turn from his intellectual development to the finished system of ideas at which he arrived. This I shall reconstruct by showing the connections between his philosophical ideas and by drawing out, in sections (iii) to (vi), the psychological, moral and juridical implications of those philosophical ideas. These implications will be marshalled together in section (vii).

(ii) THE DEVELOPMENT OF HOBBES' THOUGHT Hobbes published his translation of Thucydides in 1 629.

There runs through Thucydides' own work a rough notion of the constancy of human nature, and this notion Hobbes later sharp­ened and expanded into a universal doctrine (see section (vi)). It was on such a notion that Machiavelli had based his belief in the induction of remedial political principles from a study of history (Discourses, i. 39) ; and in his 'Preface to the Readers' Hobbes similarly writes of 'the principal and proper work of history being to instruct, and enable men by the knowledge of actions past, to bear themselves prudently in the present, and providently towards the future'. But in his later work, Hobbes entirely surbordinates prudence derived from historical experience to power derived from scientific knowledge (Lev., p. 170 ; and see section (v) below). This historico-political work of Hobbes was written before he had started philosophising, and hardly any of its political ideas survive in the political theory he began to work out after his first philosophical essay.

This essay, which Tonnies discovered and entitled A Short Tract on First Principles, appears to have been written not later than 1 636 and probably as early as 1 630. It shows that Hobbes had sketched out a distinctive philosophy several years before he circulated the fi.rst version of his political theory in 1640. The ideas of the Tract, greatly expanded and somewhat altered (though not in essentials), reappear in De Corpore.

Professor Leo Strauss has devoted a well-known book to the thesis that 'Hobbes's political philosophy is really, as its originator claims, based on a knowledge of men which is deepened and corroborated by the self-knowledge and self-examination of the individual, and not on a general scientific or metaphysical theory' (The Political Philosopi?J of Hobbes, p. 29). Now Strauss mentioned the Tract (p. xvi) but waved it aside without discussing its

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contents-an omission which, I shall now show, is fatal t o his claim that Hobbes worked out his political theory on the basis of his knowledge of men and manners before he became interested in philosophy.

The purpose of the Tract is to explain perceptions of distant bodies. Hobbes begins by laying down as self-evident the key principle that 'That which is in no way touched [my italics] by another, hath nothing added to it nor taken from it' -it 'remains in the same state it was'. That change is caused by nothing but push remained Hobbes' central metaphysical belief throughout his life.3 (We shall find that its indirect implications are impres­sive.) In the light of his key principle Hobbes explains the perception of a distant body in two stages : first, a physical theory about the diffusion of species emitted by the body and their passage, with diminishing power, to the eye of the observer; and secondly, a physiological-cum-psychological theory describing how the pressure on the is conducted to the observer's 'animal spirits' (i.e. his nervous system) which react by projecting an image of the distant body.

In section III I lobbes turns from perception to motivation. Since all change is caused by bodily push, so-called 'final' causes must be efficient causes in disguise. 'Good' says Hobbes in the Tract, 'is to every thing that, which hath power to attract it . . . . Appetite is a motion of the animal spirits towards the object that moveth them. . . . The object is the efficient cause, or agent, of desire'. If an object excites me towards itself it is good for me.; if it repels you from itself, it is evil for you. This thorough-going subjectivism, which plays a decisive role in Hobbes' political theory, is already laid down in the Tract.

3 In De Corpore it re-appears as : 'All mutation consists in motion only . . . . There can be no cause of motion, except in a body contiguous and moved' (IX. 6-7). Hobbes, of course, accepts the obvious implication that the sense of touch is basic and that the other senses are more complicated versions of the sense of touch. Prof. Strauss, however, always keen to scent a moral and pre-philosophic motive in Hobbes, claims that 'the preferences for the sense of touch . . . is already implied in Hobbes's original view of the fundamental antithesis between vanity and fear' (op. cit., p. 166). Presumably, Strauss means that, for Hobbes, vanity i nvolves visual imagining whereas we become afraid when we feel the world physically

and preferring fear to vanity, he prefers touch to sight. This is ingenious; but docs not 'prefer' touch to sight-he merely says that seeing is an indirect and complicated sort of touching. Kor does he correlate fearful with tactile experiences---e.g. fear of the unknown (a cause of religion) is not due to touch. Nor is there any mention of fear or vanity in the Tract where Hobbes first outlined his touch-theory of vision. (Actually, Hohbes 'preferred' sight to touch. See my Hobbes System of Tdeas, p. 34.]

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Indeed the Tract is fairly bursting with implications which are drawn out in Hobbes' subsequent political writings. The Tract asserts, in so many words, that man is a part of 'meer nature' and that his behaviour must be explained by the same sort of causal principles as explain other natural phenomena. Since nature is normless and non-hierarchical, the state of nature will clearly be likewise. Since the brain is activated only after the sense-organs have been impinged on by the external world, it follows that Hobbes' theory of knowledge must be basically empiricist. And from this, together with Hobbes' need to provide a causal explanation of thinking and language, follows, as I shall show in sections (iv) and (v), Hobbes' nominalism, with all its impli­cations for his conception of the human situation and for his ethics and jurisprudence.

All this gets set aside by Strauss. Moreover, if we follow Strauss's concluding recommendation and go to the least mature version of Hobbes' political theory for the best understanding of it, we find that The Elements of Law, far from being the work of a non-philosophical student of men, politics and history, conspicu­ously displays Hobbes' main philosophical notions in the influ­ential opening chapters. His belief that the motion of bodies is the reality which causes sentients to project secondary qualities on to those bodies, his account of the physical process by which objects generate images in sentients, and his account of the endeavours towards or away from the objects which these images arouse in sentients--all this is expanded from the Tract, together with a consequent subjectivist analysis of 'good' and 'evil'. A causal theory of thinking, necessitated by Hobbes' physiological psychology, is also developed in The Elements of Law, based on a theory of signs and marks which leads to Hobbes' nominalism. His main theological tenets are also outlined: God is First Cause, and infinite both in the physical sense that he is omnipotent, and in the logical sense that he is unlimited by any characteristics.4 Hence, all that men can know of him is that he exists and is omnipotent, unimaginable and incomprehensible (Elements, I, xi, 2).

Two years later, in De Cive, Hobbes added to the foregoing a theory of truth whose reliance on stipulative definitions has

4 Hobbes' 'God' is almost indistinguishable from Aristotle's 'unformed matter'. See E.W. IV, p. 313.

R

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obvious political overtones (see section (v)). To the English translation he prefixed an informal account of his method, which he afterwards described systematically in De Corpore (on which Hobbes worked between 1 636 and 1 654, a period which embraces the shorter period during which he elaborated his political theory). I want now to turn to his method, for I think I have said enough to show that although Hobbes was a political historian before he became a philosopher, he had become a philosopher before he became a political theorist ; moreover, his philosophical ideas are in the forefront of his early political theory.

(iii) HoBBEs' METHOD

Thry say that in describing the generation of the world thry are doing as a geometer does in constructing a figure, not imp!Jing that the universe ever real!y catJJe into existence, but facilitating understanding lry exhibiting the object, like the figure, in process of fortJJation. Aristotle.

Harvey and Galileo were men whose work won Hobbes' rare admiration. Each had, in his view, created a new science­a science of the human body and a science of moving bodies­just as he, Hobbes, had created a new science of the body politic.

When someone is deeply impressed by thinkers in other fields we can expect their work to influence him in two main ways. First, he will be tempted to take up their basic ideas and extend them beyond their original contexts. This Hobbes did. Galileo's great advance was made possible by the fact that he drew his dividing line not, as Aristotle had done, between motion and rest, but between accelerated motion and uniform motion (of which rest is merely a special case).

The idea of motion permeates all Hobbes' thought : geometry studies motion; thought is motion ; imagination and memory are inertial motion; 'life itself is but motion' ; social life is like a race; static happiness is impossible; a good object is one which arouses motion towards itself. If the Republic may be called the political expression of the Pythagorean theory of the tuned lyre, the Leviathan may be called the political expression of the Galilean theory of motion.

The main impression given by Harvey's account of the motion of the heart and blood is of a system of pumps, tubes and valves.

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Hobbes (like that other admirer of Harvey, Descartes) extends this mechanical interpretation to the whole body ; and even to the mind. Harvey had said that 'every affection of the mind . . . is the cause of an agitation whose influence extends towards the heart, and there induces change', a change which in turn modifies the behaviour of the body (De Motu, XV). Hobbes' psychology is an elaboration of this remark.5

The secorrd main way in which a pupil may be influenced by masters in other fields is by the example of their method, for a method of enquiry may be fruitfully employed outside the dis­cipline in which it was developed. In Hobbes' time, philosophers commonly stressed the need for a sure method of acquiring and formulating knowledge, and attempted to meet that need. But Hobbes chose (not a method worked out a priori by his philosopher-acquaintances, Bacon and Descartes, but) the resolutive-compositive method which had actually been practised by his scientific friends, Harvey and Galileo, with remarkable fruitfulness. Their method has a common origin and background in the University of Padua, where Harvey was a student when Galileo was a professor. Thus any influence of Hobbes' method on his political theory (and I shall argue that it was considerable) is a consequence of the fact that Hobbes attached himself to a successful scientific tradition, and thereby had his method deter­mined for him.

To indicate the nature of this method I shall first briefly consider Harvey's use of it. Harvey's De Motu Cordis et Sanguinis is an argument for a hypothesis and not a description of an observed system, because the blood-system as such cannot be observed. His first task, occupying many years, was to establish, by dis­section and inspection, the character of the system's constituent elements-the structure, capacity, and movement of the heart, the one-way valves in the veins, etc. Above this knowledge of its parts he erected a hypothetical reconstruction of the whole system : the existence of the one-way valves refuted the ebb-and­flow theory of the blood's movement, and the fact that, in half

5 'The original of life being in the heart, that motion in the sentient, which is propagated to the heart, must necessarily make some alteration or diversion of viral motion . . . ' (De Corpore., XXV. 12). He refers to Harvey in his next paragraph. Hobbes' theory of motivation is discussed in section (iv) below. [In the text an important difference is obscured : whereas Harvey believed that a feeling of fear, say, is likely to cause a changed movement of the heart, Hobbes believed that it is the changed movement of the heart which causes the feeling of fear. ]

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an hour, the left ventricle pumped an amount of blood into the aorta at least equal to the amount of blood in the whole body, sufficiently refuted the theory that blood is continuously ingested and digested. The only hypothesis about the nature of the whole system which seemed consistent with the observed nature of its parts was that there is 'a motion, as it were, in a circle'. This hypothetical reconstruction was then tested and confirmed by observing the effects of, for instance, amputations, ligatures and wound-infections.

Having shown the 'resolutive-compositive' (or, as it might be re-named for Harvey, the 'dissection-reconstruction') method at work, I will now outline its previous formulation.6

Like Aristotle, the creators of this method drew a sharp distinction between the order of knowledge and the order of nature and, consequently, between the order of discovery and the order of demonstration or exposition. Our senses acquaint us with effects, with the colourful surface-manifestations of systems invisibly governed by simple and universal principles. These principles, together with the elements of the system, are the constitutive causes into which its system's effects have to be resolved. A touch of genius may be necessary to penetrate to the causes underlying an effect, for they do not disclose themselves, nor are they logically inferrable from the effects; they have to be conjectured.

The next step is to reconstruct the whole situation, trans­forming the confused effect with which we had previously been merely acquainted into an intelligible system. Having dismantled the effect and having postulated the nature of its elements, and of the principles governing them, we now have to put it together again by combining the constituent elements and principles, and deducing the effect from them.

Before I turn to Hobbes' conception and employment of this method there is a further feature of it which needs to be elucidated because it exerted an important influence on Hobbes' formulation of his political theory : namely, the fact that once several factors at work in a complex situation have been isolated and defined, intellectual experiments can be performed by idealising the

6 The following two paragraphs are mainly based on the well-known article by J. H. Randall, jr., 'Scientific Method in the School of Padua', ]our. Histot;Y of Ideas, i., 2, 1940. [Now in his The School of Padua and the Emergence of lvfodern Smnce, Padova, 1961.]

P H I LO S O P H Y A N D P O L I T I C S I K H O B B E S 245

situation, that is, by imagining certain factors which are actually always present in some degree to be diminished to zero. Inferring the consequences of the remaining factors may lead to the dis­covery of a new principle. It was in this manner that, for example, Stevinius showed that the pull of equal weights along inclined planes of equal heights must vary inversely with the lengths of the inclined planes. But the classic examples are Galileo's dis­covery of his law of inertia and his analysis of the trajectory of a cannon-ball. Having shown that, assuming no friction, 'a body which descends along any inclined plane and continues along a plane inclined upwards will, on account of the momentum acquired, ascend to an equal height above the horizontal,'? Galileo now imagines the slope of the second plane, and conse­quently the deceleration of the body, to be gradually reduced to zero-and then the body's speed would be uniform. Having thus established his law of inertia, Galileo iinagines the body to pass over the edge of the horizontal plane. Its velocity can now be resolved into the original uniform horizontal motion and the newly acquired uniform downwards acceleration (assuming no air resistance). When these two motions are mathematically recomposed, the resultant is a semi-parabola. It is further deduced that a projectile fired at above zero elevation will describe a full parabola, and that a cannon has a maximum range when its elevation is 45 degrees. Galileo was already acquainted with this fact 'from accounts given by gunners' ; but now, having resolved the trajectory into its . constituent principles, he can, by deduction from them, both explain this maximum range and also predict the decreases in range at other elevations.

Having surveyed the development of what Galileo called the metodo resolutivo and the metodo compositivo we can now turn to Hobbes' account and employment of it.

Hobbes follows tradition by distinguishing the method of invention or discovery from the method of teaching or demon­stration (De Corp., VI, 10) . The process of discovery is not recorded in a didactic work of exposition (thus the Leviathan opens with an account of the premisses and not with an account of how Hobbes arrived at them). In a scientific enquiry we start with what is 'more known to us', namely, the whole amalgam of qualities presented to out senses (VI, 2). This is the effect of a

7 Dialogues Cont:eming Two New Sciences, trans. Crew and de Salvia, 1914, p. 217.

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configuration of elements and intersection of principles, each of which is simple, universal, and 'more known to nature'. The causes into which we try to resolve the effect are the universal and initial conditions which are sufficient to generate the effect. To understand an effect with which our senses have acquainted us, is to know a recipe for producing it. Knowledge is power.

'The subject of philosophy is every body of which we can conceive any generation . . . or which is capable of composition and resolution' (I. 8). The resolutive-compositive method can be applied to words, to physical situations, to geometrical figures, and to human institutions. Let us begin with its application to words.

If we wish to explicate the meaning of a compound term (such as 'man') we must, says Hobbes, go on resolving it until we reach the unanalysable constituents of its meaning (such as 'body', 'animated', 'sentient', and 'rational') ; then we compose these together into a definition (VI, 15).

In physics we are acquainted with effects and we know, according to Hobbes, that they are caused by some sort of motion. But precisely what motion generates thunder, say, or the tides, has to be conjectured because it cannot be known a priori. We have to resolve the effect into those hypothetical mechanical principles from which the effect can, and anything contrary to experience cannot, be deduced (XXX, 15). Hobbes requires that such hypotheses be adequate and not known to be fabe. He does not require that they be known to be true. He claims for his own explanations of natural phenomena only that they are demonstrated from 'suppositions not absurd' (Ep. Ded.).

Euclid's definition of a sphere is a genetic definition, a recipe for constructing spheres (Bk. xi, def. 14). According to Hobbes, this is a prototype for all geometrical definitions, for geometry demonstrates how figures are generated by the motions of points and lines. To understand a geometrical figure we have to resolve it into its elements and then deductively recompose it. But whereas in the analysis and definition of compound terms the whole process takes place, so to speak, before our eyes, and whereas in physics we are only acquainted with the effect and have to guess the causes, in geometry we know the whole figure and we can find out its simple constituents, but we cannot know the routes they followed when the whole figure was actually con-

P H I L O S O P H Y A N D P O L I T I C S I N H O B B E S 247

structed. We can only postulate a hypothetical generation of the known whole from its known parts (De Corp., I. 5). I mention this because for Hobbes the methodological situation in civil philosophy is rather analogous.

In the Preface to De Cive Hobbes gives an informal account of the way he used his method in civil philosophy:

Concerning my method . . . I took my beginning from the very matter of civil government, and thence proceeded to its gener­ation and form, and the first beginnings of justice; for every­thing is best understood by its constitutive causes. For as in a watch, or some such small engine, the matter, figure, and motion of the wheels cannot well be known, except it be taken in sunder, and viewed in parts ; so to make a more curious search into the rights of states, and duties of subjects, it is necessary (I say not to take them in sunder, but yet that) they be so considered, as if they were dissolved. In seventeenth century science the idea of resolution had come

to mean analysis of a system into its physical parts and into the simple and universal principles governing them. Hobbes resolves civil society into its physical parts, solitary individuals. This is an intellectual experiment in which Hobbes 'idealises' the human situation by imagining away the factors of authority, law and justice. He then lays down the universal principles which govern individual behaviour. These individuals, governed by these principles, are the constitutive causes of civil society. And in civil philosophy, as in geometry, it is enough to know the constitutive causes and their final product, and merely postulate a route by which they might have led to it. In Leviathan (as opposed to Behemoth) Hobbes is not concerned with any actual historical development. The state of nature is an ideal limit: it depicts 'what manner of life there would be, where there were no common power to fear' (Lev.,p. 83, my italics,) and where men have 'sprung out of the earth, and suddenly (like mushrooms) come to full maturity' (De Cive, VIII, 1). And Hobbes' account of their progress to civil society describes the most direct route they could have taken from one extreme condition to its opposite, whereas the routes which have been followed in history have been long and circuitous, seldom-perhaps never-starting from the former condition and often failing to reach the latter.

Such failures give the resolutive-compositive method a special function in political science. When one applies it to a physical

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effect or to a geometrical figure the recomposed whole, which one now understands, is still the whole with which one had previously only been acquainted. But when this method is applied to society the recomposed whole may very well differ from the original. 8

An actual society may be diseased, divided, at war with itself. It may be in a condition which nobody wants. But a civil society whos� structure has been rationally reconstructed by deduction from the nature of the system's elements will not be like that. To apply the resolutive-compositive method to society is to discover what men are, and what civil society ought to be to be consistent with their nature. The method has a normative function. Thus in the Preface to De Cive already quoted, Hobbes says that the object of the method is 'to . make a .mor; curio�s search into the rights of states, and the duttes of subjects . And 1n De Corpore he says that the method is used in civil philosophy to determine questions of justice and injustice (VI, 7).

We are now in a position to consider how Hobbes' method shaped his political philosophy.

. . .

. . First, society is to be resolved mto nothing but 1ndiv1duals,

and the principles governing their behaviour provide the premisses from which the right state is subsequently reconstructed.

Secondly, Hobbes' didactic purpose in his political theory will be 'only to put men in mind of what they know already, or may know by their own experience' (Elements, I, i, 2).9 His theory will demonstrate the type of state which is alone consistent with their natures. The Leviathan would be a redundant book if men understood themselves and the logic of their situation. Such understanding, however, requires 'deep study' which most men do not perform for themselves, especially when the shelter of authority lulls them into forgetting the evils which would follow its disappearance. According to Sextus Empiricus, when a king died the Persians used to be left without law for five (hair-raising) days to teach them how much they need the new k�ng. Hobbes draws a graphic picture of the state of nature to rem1nd men of a similar lesson.

s [This contrast is exaggerated. The scientific analysis of a physical system may very well lead to a �ore or less drastic revision of previous empirical descriptions of it · moreover the dtssectlon and analysts of defunct organs ts usually mtended to

r:veal how they should function in living .::rganisms. ] .

. . 9 Hence his statement : 'Neither was 1t rashly nor madvtsedly satd by Plato of

old, that knowledge was memory' (De Cive, XVII, 4). [On this see, now, my Hobbes's !:.)stem of Ideas, § 14.]

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Thirdly, Hobbes' method requires that his conception of natural law takes the form it does take.I0 Hitherto, two main conceptions had prevailed, one deriving from Plato and the other from Aristotle. The first depicted natural law as a sort of 'brood­ing omniscience in the sky' (in Justice Holmes' phrase); the second, as the essential core common to all historic systems of civil law. Hobbes dismisses the first as something 'built in the air' (Elements, p. xviii). His method does not allow any appeal to transcendent norms because it requires that psychological axioms shall provide the premisses for a rational reconstruction of the state. Nor does his method allow any appeal to common practice, since the actual behaviour of men, based on received opinions, may be inconsistent with how they would behave if they had a true knowledge of themselves and their situation (De Cive, II, 1).

If natural laws are neither transcendent, nor immanent in legal systems, but are nevertheless some kind of imperative which is both prior to political authority and found out by reason; and if psychological axioms are the only permissible premisses ; then natural laws must be hypothetical imperativesn deduced from psychological principles, teaching us what we must do if we are to be consistent with our own nature. Since all men shun unnatural death 'by a certain impulsion of nature, no less than that whereby a stone moves downward', the laws of nature dictate 'those duties they are necessarily to perform towards others in order to their own preservation' (De Cive, II, 2, my italics).

Fourthly, since, according to Hobbes' method, the laws of nature teach man what behaviour is consistent with his nature and situation, a man who rationally promises to behave in a way demanded by his situation, and then fails to do so, a man who behaves inconsistently and irrationally, is contravening natural law. 'For as it is . . . called an absurdity, to contradict what one maintained in the beginning : so . . . it is called injustice, and

1o I am considering Hobbes' natural laws qt�a 'dictates of reason'. I shall consider qua dictates of God in section (v). [When I wrote this foot-note I assumed that there is no discrepancy between Hobbes' laws of nature qua rational theorems and qua divine commandments. I still consider this assumption correct. But it has since been seriously challenged by Prof. H. Warrender in his scholarly and much discussed The Political Philosop'-!J of Hobbes (1957). I reviewed this book in Philosophy, xxvix, 137, pp. 238-241, and I consider its arguments at greater length in my Hobbes's System of Ideas, ch. v.]

n [More precisely, assertoric hypothetical i mperatives, in Kant's terminology­imperatives which prescribe action that is practically necessary as a means to an actual, as opposed to a possible, end.]

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injury voluntarily to undo that, which from the beginning he had voluntarily done' (Lev., p. 86). The rational obligation to abide by promises rationally entered into is the basis of Hobbes' moral system.

In a word, Hobbes' method required that his political theory should be anthropocentric from start to finish. Hobbes' sove­reign was man-made : 'I ground the civil right of sovereigns, and both the duty and liberty of subjects, upon the known natural inclinations of mankind' (Lev., pp. 465-6). Hobbes recognised no supernatural or theological standard by which men's desires might be judged. As Dewey pointed out in an excellent study,I2 Hobbes' contemporaries objected less to his principle of absolute authority than to the merely human source of that authority. Before Locke, Hobbes was generally regarded as subversive rather than totalitarian.

(iv) THE NATURE OF MAN

Man, be he learned or ignorant, is a part of nature. Spinoza.

Professor Strauss concedes (op. cit., pp. 2-3) that the appli­cation of Hobbes's method to political societies, whereby 'what was at first an "irrational" whole is "rationalised",' had a signi­ficant effect on Hobbes' political philosophy :

It would seem that the characteristic contents of Hobbes's political philosophy---the absolute priority of the individual to the state, the conception of the individual as asocial, of the relation between the state of nature and the State as an absolute antithesis, and finally of the State itself as Leviathan-is [sic] determined by and, as it were, implied in the method.

But, he continues, Precisely on the assumptions of the 'resolutive-compositive' method . . . the question of the aim and quality of the individual will, of man's will in the state of nature, becomes decisive for the concrete development of the idea of the State.

Strauss goes on to argue that Hobbes derived his conception of human will from his observations of men (and especially of himself), and not from scientific or philosophic considerations.

But a rational act of will, for Hobbes, is the outcome of a process of deliberation involving experience, language, reasoning

1• 'The Motivation of Hobbes's Political Philosophy', Studies in the History of Ideas, Dept. of Philosophy, Columbia University, N.Y., 1918, vol. i .

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and wanting, and his philosophical and psychological analyses of these surely affected his conception of human will. Moreover, his psychology was in turn affected by his metaphysical conception of the causal relationship between the human organism and the external world. Thus Hobbes' conception of nature and causation did indirect!J affect his conception of human will, although the latter was not, and could not have been, deduced from the former. At any rate, this is the thesis which I shall now try to substantiate.

Hobbes claimed to be an uncompromising materialist, but his account of the mind is really an epiphenomenalist rather than a strictly materialist one. He actually treats thoughts and feelings as the shadows and overtones of movements of the brain and heart, though he claims they are those movements. This self­deception, and his transitions from physical to mental language, are rendered easier by the fact that Hobbes uses terms which are ambiguously susceptible to a physiological or a psychological interpretation, e.g. : 'compulsion', 'disturbance', 'tranquillity', 'celerity', dullness', 'agitation', 'stirrings', 'phantasm'. Perhaps the most important example of a term to which he tacitly gives a dual function is 'endeavour', which Hobbes defines as 'motion made through the length of a point, and in an instant or point of time' (De Corp., XV, 2). This useful word allowed Hobbes to say that voluntary action begins as physical endeavourP

We must now see what consequence this causal and epipheno­menalist theory of the mind has for Hobbes' theory of knowledge and motivation, and so for his conception of human will.

First, for Hobbes the mind cannot be (as it could be for Plato) self-moved-or, to put it in his own terms, the animal spirits in the nervous system have no inherent power of movement.I4 Ideas cannot spring spontaneously into consciousness. The mind can only be set in motion by pressure from without-by pressure exerted on the sense-organs either directly by an object touching them or by the ether being vibrated by a distant object. The motion set up in the sentient organism is transmitted to the brain and then to the heart. The organism reacts by projecting a

1a [This paragraph grossly under-estimates the significance of Hobbes' endeavour­concept for a solution of the Cartesian body-mind problem. That problem was created by the absolute antithesis between extended body and unextended mind. Hobbes' endeavour-concept enabled him to overcome this antithesis by ascribing non-extensional properties to bodies. See my Hobbes's System of Ideas, ch. vii.]

14 This key principle was already established in the Tract : 'the animal spirits are moved locally, by another' (iii, cone. 2).

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phantasm or image of the object. The object may also set up an endeavour towards or away from itself. This endeavour is ( accom­panied by) desire or aversion respectively. By the law of inertia, the perturbation subsides only gradually, and remains capable of causing after-images (accompanied by hope, fear, etc.) in the absence of the object. If nothing intervenes, the endeavour will be amplified into large-scale bodily movement towards or away from the object.

This is the simplest kind of voluntary action and it occurs in men and animals. The distinctively human kind of voluntary action which involves language and rational calculation is more complicated, but the essential pattern is the same. The heart always dominates the body in the sense that its final pro or con endeavour determines the course of action. Thus all striving is claimed by Hobbes to be the effect of efficient and not final causes.

From his analysis two principles follow which re-appear as premisses in his account of the state of nature. First, since the vital motions of the heart can only be excited by the prospect of some bodily change in its owner, all motivation is essentially egocentric; merely moral considerations unrelated to such a change cannot affect behaviour (Lev., p. 87). Secondly, since aversion is aroused when the vital motions are hindered, the prospect of their stoppage, i.e. of death, will arouse the most violent aversion of all.

(v) HoBBES' NoMINALISM

I can see a horse, Plato, but I cannot see its horseness. Antisthenes.

Rational behaviour, like all purposeful behaviour, has, according to Hobbes, a causal genesis, and it involves experience, language and reasoning. We must now follow his causal account of these. Then we shall see what consequences this account has for his epistemology and what consequences this epistemology has for his ethics and jurisprudence.

We are in sensitive contact with the world only through the nerve-endings of our sense-organs. Any knowledge we have of the world must have come through them. This is the physiolo­gical basis of Hobbes' empiricism. Images are the bricks with which he builds his theory of knowledge ; for him, a cognition or an idea or a conception is always an image (Elements, I, iv, 6) ;

P H IL O S O P H Y A N D P O L I T I C S I N H O B B E S 253

and 'there is no conception in a man's mind, which hath not at first, totally, or by parts, been begotten upon the organs of sense. The rest are derived from that original' (Lev., p. 7). To remember .is to revive an image ; and if the image of one thing (e.g. smoke) is frequently succeeded by the image of another thing (e.g. fire), the two images become associated and the occurrence of one will revive the other. Experience is the sum of such remembrances 'of the succession of one thing to another', the ability to recognise certain things as signs of other things ; and 'prudence' means 'taking signs of experience warily'. Animals possess prudence as well as men. But the utility of pre-linguistic experience is limited, because it only operates when a natural sign is actually sensed, and because chains of associations cannot be summarised in a general formula but have to be re-experienced link by link on each occasion. We must now turn to Hobbes' account of what he considers one of men's greatest technological triumphs, the invention of language.

For Hobbes, the universe consists of physical things, the images caused by those things touching (directly or indirectly) on sense-organs, and images compounded from the original images.Is Hence if words are to find a place in this universe, they too must be things, for they are not images. What sort of things ? We have already seen that two things may come to be regarded as signs of one another if images of them get associated. Thus heavy cloud is taken as a sign of rain. This, however, is a natural sign. We also recognise artificial signs, or marks, such as those placed on submerged rocks or outside pawn-brokers' shops. Now names, according to Hobbes, are signs of this kind : 'A name is a word taken at pleasure to serve for a mark, which may raise in our mind a thought like to some thought we had before, and which being disposed in speech and pronounced to others, may be to them a sign of what thought the speaker had . . . before his mind' (De Corp., II, 4).

Words give men large advantages over animals even in merely prudent behaviour. They greatly increase the number of signs which we may take 'warily' -thus we can take smoke or a cry of 'Fire !' as a sign of fire. Words also make possible a register of experience, or history, so that we no longer have to rely each on

1• For the time being I omit the feelings which accompany the images. They will be introduced when I come to the ethical implications of Hobbes' nominalism.

254 J · W . K . WAT KIN S

our own small experience. And words enable us to summarise the lessons of experience in inductive generalisations. But prudent human behaviour is only a more efficient version of prudent animal behaviour, and it suffers from the fundamental defect that induction cannot yield certain and universal principles. 'For though in all places of the world, men should lay the foundations of their houses on the sand, it could not thence be inferred that so it ought to be' (Lev., p. 163). On the contrary, 'where men build on false grounds, the more they build, the greater is the ruin' (p. 176). Maxims based on custom and precedent are therefore dangerously unreliable. This general condemnation had a particular target : Hobbes was, among other things, trying to torpedo the political pretensions of the common lawyers.16

Having traced Hobbes' causal account of prudent behaviour we must now see how he extends this account to that much more powerful and efficacious kind of conduct, rational or scientific behaviour. Words, as we have seen, are physical signs or, as Hobbes also calls them, counters. In pre-rational thinking these counters get added together only if the things they denote get associated in experience. But in rational thinking counters are added to and subtracted from one another, not according to experience, but according to rational conventions. These specify permissible substitutions between counters. In brief, Hobbes interprets deductive science on the model of arithmetic (De Corp., I, 2-3), and the human mind engaged in deduction on that of an adding-machine or abacus. Rational conduct consists in calcu­lating the consequences of alternative actions and in then doing that action the imagined consequences of which arouse the strongest pro endeavour.

Hobbes' causal interpretation of names as physical marks . which get tied, by association, to the things they denote, applies

well enough to proper names like 'Charles I', but what of universal terms like 'Man' ? There is no room in Hobbes' world for universal essences or natures for it consists only of things and images. Nor is it possible for a man to entertain a universal concept, for a concept is composed of images, and an image is no less an individual entity than the external object of which it is

ts See Lev., p. 67. Contrast Lord Eldon : 'Dumpor's case always struck me as extraordinary ; hut if you depart from Dumper's case, what is there to prevent � departure in every direction?' (quoted by W. Bagehot, Literary Studies, Everyman, 1, p. 10).

P HI L O S O P H Y A N D P O L I 'I'I C S I N HO B B E S 255

an image; and when images get amalgamated the :resulting composite image is still a singular entity : 'They err, that say the idea of anything is universal ; as if there would be in the mind an image of a man, which were not the image of some man, but a man simply, which is impossible ; for every idea is one, and of one thing' (De Corp., V, 8).

Thus Hobbes' materialism implies that universal words cannot denote anything universal outside the mind, and his account of thinking as the re-combining, in various ways, of physically instigated images implies that universal words cannot denote anything universal inside the mind. Therefore, there is 'nothing in the world universal but names' (Lev., p. 19) . 'Charles I' is the name of one individual ; 'Stuart' is the name of a few individuals ; and 'Man' is the name of many individuals. A universal word is a sort of sur-surname. It has no connotation or intuitive meaning; it only denotes particular items in the universe. This is Hobbes' nominalism, whose impressive implications must now be unfurled.

For Aristotle, the most important properties of an individual­his essential properties-are common to all members of his species. The properties which differentiate him are merely acci­dental ; but even these do not necessarily distinguish him from all other men. What individuates this particular configura­tion of properties i s the sheer characterless, incomprehensible matter in which it inheres. This prepares the way for Aristotle's view that it is natural for men to form communities : men are united by essential common properties.

But according to Hobbes' nominalism, these common properties do not exist. There are only individual entities and the names which denote them. A civil society is an artificial aggregate of distinct individuals.U

In order to understand a further implication of Hobbes' nominalism I must introduce a complication in Hobbes' theory of language. 'Names,' Hobbes write, 'are signs not of things, but of our cogitations' (De Corp., II, 5). The word 'stone' does not denote stones but the stoney images in the minds of people who pronounce, write, hear, read, or imagine the word (De Corp., VI, 1 1 ). This doctine seems inescapable if, with Hobbes, we assume

17 See Prof. Oakeshott's excellent remarks on the connection between nominal­ism and individualism, op. cit., p. lv.

256 J • W . K . WAT K I N S

that words denote but do not connote ; that the universe consists only of things and images ; and that we can speak meaningfully of non-existent 'things', or fictions, such as centaurs. A platonist would say that 'centaur' has a connotation or meaning, but no denotation ; but Hobbes cannot say this. A meaningful word must dettote something ; and in the case of 'centaur' the only available candidates are our images of centaurs. And Hobbes presumably felt that the doctrine which explains how 'centaur' is meaningful must, for the sake of consistency, be extended to 'horse' and other non-empty names. Moreover, the function of words, according to Hobbes, is mnemonic : a word is invented so that the thought of it may arouse in the thinker's mind its associated image and vice versa, and so that his pronunciation of it may arouse similar images in the minds of his hearers.18

To understand one implication of Hobbes' contention that words 'are signs of our conceptions . . . not signs of the things themselves' (II, 5), imagine a number of adjoining prison-cells, each occupied by a prisoner who has never met the others and who can communicate with them only by tapping signals on the wall. The prisoners can exchange information and they may even be able to work out a concerted plan of action, but they cannot establish any rapport or empathetic understanding between themselves. They are shut off from each other by the medium through which they send their signals. Each remains funda­mentally solitary.

Hobbes' theory of communication places us all in the pris­oners' situation. According to it, there are no common thoughts or purposes which we can share. I have a private thought, I transmit a physical signal, and then you have a private thought­that is the closest we can get. Thus Hobbes' nominalism implies not only that society is an aggregate of separate individuals, but also that each individual is inescapably lonely and self-reliant even when he acts in concert.

1s [Mr. J. M. Brown has persuaded me that Hobbes did not hold the view attributed to him in this paragraph. My misinterpretation was due to a failure to distinguish between what a word signifies and what it names. For Hobbes, the word 'Cromwell', pronounced by me, does signify (is a sign of) an image in my mind of Cromwell · but it is the name, not of such images, but of the man Cromwell. The word 'cen'taur' pronounced by me, likewise signifies an image in my mind; the difference is th;t it does not name anything. See my Hobbes's System of Ideas, § 27.

Fortunately, the implications I go on to draw in the next paragraphs follow just from Hobbes' the

.sis that na

.mes signify i.mages, irrespective of whether it is

these images, or the things of whtch they are tmages, that names name.]

P H I LOSOPHY AN D POLITICS IN HOBBES 257

Now consider the ethical implications of Hobbes' nominal­ism. The world consists only of things, images, and also of something I have so far ignored, namely feelings. In such a world there is no place for a transcendent moral order to which moral terms refer. Yet Hobbes accepts that we use the words 'good' and 'evil' meaningfully. Now on his view, as we have seen, a meaningful word signifies something-something inside the mind. The mind contains only images and feelings of desire and aversion. If I say 'Hitler is evil,' 'Hitler' signifies my image of the man, not the man himself. What, then, does 'evil' signify ? It must be something in my mind and not something in Hitler; and the only thing in my mind remaining to be signified is the feeling of aversion aroused by my image of Hitler. Thus Hobbes' nominalism leads to his ethical subjectivism. By nature there are no common moral principles ; no moral properties inhere in objective situations ; moral statements signify the state of their authors, not of the objects to which they refer (Lev., p. 32).

This doctrine is-to borrow Professor Wisdom's adjective for the equally iconoclastic verification principle of the 1930's­'smashing'. It blows up Platonism, Aristotelianism, Stoicism, Thomism and any other classical systems which assert that moral standards which are independent of men and their passions provide men with the premisses from which they can infer what they ought to do. It does this quite simply by saying that moral terms, or names, signify only subjective and variable feelings : 'and therefore such names can never be true grounds of any ratiocination' (Lev., p. 25).

We have already seen, in section (iii), that Hobbes' method requires that psychological axioms be the premisses from which the nature of the rightly ordered state is deduced,19 and we now see that Hobbes' nominalism reinforces that methodological require­ment by implying that there is nothing else which could provide those premisses. We also saw that his method requires that natural laws take the form of hypothetical imperativ�s deduced from a psychological axiom (Lev., p. 104). Yet these hypothetical imperatives are also divine imperatives and so are properly called Laws after all. Men shun death 'by a certain impulsion of nature' ;

19 •To reduce this doctrine [of justice and policy] to the rules and infallibility of reason, there is no way, but first to put such principles down for a foundation, as passion not mistrusting, may not seek to displace ; and afterward to build thereon . . . the law of nature' (Element!, Ep. Ded.).

s

258 ] · W . N . W A T K I N S

but what happens by nature is willed by God, for nature i s 'the Art whereby God hath made and governs the world' (Lev., p. 5). The laws of nature prescribe necessary means for the avoidance of unnatural death. God, who wills this end, must will these means. Thus the laws of nature are also divine laws.

The strategy for avoiding unnatural death is, of course, for men mutually to promise to transfer their rights to a sovereign ; and this 'mortal god' will fill the moral vacuum by creating inter­personal moral principles. The words 'just' and 'unjust' have no connotation, but the sovereign will give them a uniform deno­tation.

The affinity between mathematics and jurisprudence was very obvious to seventeenth century natural lawyers : both disciplines are deductive, universal, and independent of fact. But what is the status of their premisses ? Are they synthetic a priori principles, timeless and shiningly self-evident truths ? Or only conventions ? Grotius replied as a platonist. Hobbes replies as a nominalist : truth is made by definitions, and uniform standards of justice between men can only be created by the definitions of a single authority above men. Hobbes' nominalism and his convention­alist theory of truth lead to a command theory of justice. 'Before there was any government just and unjust had no being, their nature only being relative to some command' (De Cive, XII, 1).

Finally, it is clear that Hobbes' nominalism requires that such unambiguous and non-conflicting commands should be issued by a single determinate body. In a society consisting of nothing but separate individuals authority can be assigned only to one of them or to one clearly defined group of them. There is no immaterial entity (such as The Common Law, or The General Will) to whom it could be assigned. The civil authority, says Hobbes, must be visible, not ghostly (Lev. , p. 215).20

(vi) THE UNIFORMITY OF MEN

No single thing is so like another, so exactfy its counterpart, as all of us are to one another. Cicero.

According to Hobbes, we can only imagine some particular man; yet in Leviathan he describes a prototype-Man. Now if an

•• Hobbes explicitly derives the need for the Erastian control of religious worship from his nominalism. See De Cive XV, 17.

P H I L O S O P H Y A N D P O L I T I C S I N H O B B E S 259

Aristotelian can admit that men are very diverse, having only certain essential features in common, surely a nominalist ought to say that 'Man' arbitrarily denotes many separate beings with nothing in common but the name ?

Of course, for Hobbes to admit that there are large differences between the motives by which different men are governed-to admit, for example, that in the case of some men ambition far exceeds fear of death-would have been fatal to his project of a political system deduced from universal psychological principles. But in fact Hobbes' claim that men are very similar (De Corp., I, 7) not only does not conflict with his nominalism but is actually supported by it. True, all that men share is the name. But why were all of them, and nothing else, given it ? Only because they resemble one another : 'one universal name is imposed on many things for their similitude' (Lev., p. 19).

Moreover, the nominalist needs obvious resemblances, resemblances that leap to the rye. Universal terms which are least amenable to a nominalist interpretation are terms (like 'weapon', 'game', 'mammal') whose instances (e.g. atom-bombs and daggers, chess and football, kangaroos and whales) overtly resemble each other hardly at all. For here the nominalist must concede that one universal name was imposed on different things for their similitude in a certain respect. This comes dangerously close to conceding that a universal name was imposed because they share certain universal properties-the end of the thesis that there is 'nothing in the world universal but names'. 21 The kind of term which is most amenable to a nominalist interpretation is a trade-name given to a line of almost identical products. It is plausible to imagine the Chairman saying, 'Let that' (pointing) 'and anything like it be called "Daimler Conquest" ' ; and this is approximately the way in which Hobbes supposes all universal names to come into exist­ence. Thus the nominalist is under pressure to exaggerate the resemblance between those things which, according to his doctrine, share nothing but a name.

Moreover, Hobbes had a metaphysical reason for regarding men as almost identical products. Hobbes sees men as engines­as engines of a similar design (Lev. , p. 5). Since they all operate

21 Hobbes himself conceded just this when he said that things are given a common name if they are similar in virtue of some 'accident '. For 'accident' is in fact Hobbes' name for universalia in re; one accident may be in many bodies. See De Corp. ,VIII 2-3.

260 J • \V . N . W A T K I N S

according t o the same principles, the only significant difference between them will be the speed at which they operate; and the only difference between men which Hobbes allows is precisely 'this difference of quickness' in the movements of their minds (Lev., p. 43; Elements, I, x, 3).

A man is a mechanical part of nature whose internal movements are encased and bidden from other men's sight; but there is, so to speak, an inspection-window to which he alone has access, and through which he can observe the motions of his mind. In principle, Hobbes claims, such motions could always be deduced from a knowledge of the structure of the human mechanism and of the input it receives from its environment; but it is much easier to introspect them. 'The causes of the motions of the mind are known, not only by ratiocination, but also by the experience of every man that takes the pains to observe these motions in himself' (De Corp., VI, 7). The popular assertion that Hobbes' psychology and politics are logically independent of his philo­sophy is, of course, true if it means only that Hobbes did not deduce introspectible data from mechanistic premisses. But Hobbes' belief that introspection provides premisses for political science is itself a consequence (not of introspection but) of a belief which, as we have just seen, is philosophically grounded, namely, his belief in the uniformity of human nature. Only this latter belief entitles Hobbes to assert: 'For the similitude of the thoughts and passions of one man, to the thoughts, and passions of another, whosoever looketh into himself, and considereth what he doth, when he does think, opine, reason, hope, fear, etc., and upon what grounds, he shall thereby read and know, what are the thoughts and passions of all other men, upon the like occasions' (Lev., p. 6).

(vii) SuMMARY

Hobbes's political radicalism springs frotn a logical radicalistn. Ernst Cassirer.

I shall now assemble the various implications of Hobbes' philosophy for his political theory.

He will begin by resolving existing political society into men in a state of nature [section (iii)] . In the state of nature there is a moral vacuum [section (ii)] . Men are very similar to each other

P H I L O S O P H Y A N D P O L I T I C S I N H O BB E S 261

[section (vi)] and the universal principles of human nature provide the axioms from which natural laws, and the reconstruction of civil society, can be deduced [section (iii)]. All men are solitary, self-reliant creatures whose moral utterances merely express their own desires and aversions [section (v)] ; their emotions are aroused only by the (direct or indirect) prospect of some bodily good or ill to themselves (see, e.g. Lev., p. 36). Bodily good is enhanced motion, and the extreme bodily ill is death [section (iv)]. Hence men are restless for they can be tranquil only in death which they fear above all. But in the state of nature (granted that goods are scarce and that men are in contact with one another) men's egocentricity, and the lack of standard rules (sections (ii) and (v)] to moderate relations between them, result in strife : 'What this man commends (that is to say, calls good) the other undervalues, as being evil. . . . Whilst thus they do, necessary it is there should be discord and strife> (De Cive, ill, 31). It follows (granted that unrestricted strife may lead to killing) that men in a state of nature are continuously threatened by what they fear most. But they can speak and calculate [section (v)] . Natural laws tell them the only logical way of removing that threat. The compositive part of Hobbes's political theory describes how men would erect a political authority if they obeyed natural law. This reconstructed civil society is different from the political society in which Hobbes lived, but it is not an ideal society in any platonic sense. It is the kind of civil society which alone is consistent with human nature [section (iii)] .

All this i s implied b y Hobbes' philosophy together with a few uncontroversial empirical facts. But now an empirical assumption has to be introduced, for men might try to remove the threat of being killed by trying to dominate the others ; and Hobbes, }ike Epicurus before him, argues that this will lead to a self-aggravating situation in which the risk of death is increased by attempts to reduce it. This argument depends on the assump­tion that in a natural struggle for power the strongest shares with the weakest the inability to insure himself against the risk of being killed.

This crude equality of men is, no doubt, suggested by Hobbes' . belief in the similarity of men [section (vi)] and, more remotely, by his anti-Aristotelian conception of a non-hierarchical universe [section (ii)] . But I do not wish to spoil my argument by claiming

262 J· W . N . W A T K I N S

too much, and I think that Hobbes regarded the ineliminability of the risk of being killed in the state of nature as a brute fact and not as a consequence of more general features of the universe.

With this empirical assumption introduced, we can continue to reconstruct the skeleton of Hobbes' argument in Parts I and II of Leviathan by wiring together the implications of his philosophy Since the assumption that one is of superior power is unrealistic and will, if acted on, endanger one's life, it is a natural law 'that every man acknowledge other for his equal by nature' (Lev. , p. 101). This acknowledged, the only remaining way to remove the threat of death is for men mutually to promise to transfer their powers tp, and to obey, a supreme arbitrator ; and this is dictated by a law of nature. This arbitrator, or sovereign, is the creature of merely human needs [section (iii)] . He must be a single determinate body who will fill the �a�ral

_ moral vacuum by

issuing laws which will create moral d1s�mct10ns and reg�late relations between men [section (v)J. To d1sobey these laws iS to break one's previous rational promise, and such inconsistent behaviour is forbidden by a law of nature [section (iii)] .

I have tried to show that Hobbes' thought is systematic : if we trace certain implications of his natural and critical philo­sophy, and then assemble these �mplications �ogether :md a?:f one empirical assumption, we achieve an (admittedly thm) preCIS of the secular part of his political theory. The more a body of ideas is connected, the more it can be tested. The more it can be tested, the more reliable it is if the tests are satisfactory, and the more corrigible it is if they are unsatisfactory. Other sev�nteenth century political writers-Prynne, Selden, and Parker, for mstance -reached conclusions about sovereignty and Erastianism broadly similar to Hobbes'. But unlike theirs, his are the upshot of a whole system of thought which can be tested and corrected at many levels. Hobbes possessed two of the qualities w�ch

.help to

make a great scientist : a synoptic vision of the whole Sl�ation �nd the ability to unfold it logically and in detail. �f h1s �etruled elaboration of that vision laid him open to a w1de vanety of objections, that is a measure of the greatness of his attempt.

I I

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B L E OF A B S U R D I T Y '

S . Morris Engel

HOBBES'S linguistic theories have in recent years provoked a good deal of discussion and admiration.1 Critics are dis­

covering in Hobbes 'clear and precise' insights into 'semantical matters,'2 'remarkable anticipations of modern ideas,'3 'techniques of logical analysis,'4 and a host of other things. Although this is certainly not doing Hobbes's reputation any harm, it is not the Hobbes we know who always emerges out of these discussions. Hobbes's curious attempt at a 'Truth' Table in Chapter V of De Corpore is a case in point. 5

The prevailing interpretation of Hobbes's Table is that it is an attempt to supply a much-needed logic for evaluating philo­sophic propositions. 6 Hobbes ('who was remarkably sensitive to the philosophical dangers of falling into nonsense''), the advocates of this view argue, wished to show that his predecessors had committed absurdities by being 'insensitive to the logical behaviour of different classes of words'8 and unaware that language may be 'systematically misleading.' So he pointed out that people often mixed their categories in making propositions and that what they needed, above all, was a 'Theory of Absurdity' to guard against such misuse of language. In this Hobbes seems to have 'antici­pated modern techniques of logical analysis.' The scheme he fashioned to do this work was a crude one but it was an effort in the right direction.

Although this highly complimentary description of Hobbes and his intentions manages, perhaps, to isolate and rescue what

1 See, for example, Hakon Tornebohm, 'A Study in Hobbes' Theory of Dcno�a­tion and Truth,' Theoria, XXVI (1960), 53-70; R. M. Mamn. On the Semantics of Hobbes,' Philosopi!J and Phenomenological Reseanh, XIV (1953), 205-21 1 ; Gord;m Hostettler, 'Linguistic Theories of Thomas Hobbes and George Campbell,' Revtew of General Semantics, III (1945), 170-180.

2 Martin, op. cit., p. 211 . 3 1bid., p. 205. 4 Richard Peters, Hobbes (London, 1 956), p. 136. 5 The Table is given in E. W. 1, p. 58. 6 Sec Peters, op. cit., pp. 1 35-137, and Stuart Hampshire, The �e of Rea.ron

(New York, 1956), p. 46. 7 Hampshire, op. cit., p. 46. s Peters, op. cit. p. 136.

264 S . M O R R I S E N G E L

is from our present point of view most valuable in Hobbes, what I should like to show here is that from an historical point of view it tends to falsify Hobbes and misrepresent his intentions. For the Table, when examined closely and in context, reveals that Hobbes seems to have regarded it in quite a different light and was not so 'sensitive' as his recent critics would have us suppose.

To say this is not to deny, of course, that Hobbes believed that the misuse of language is responsible for a good deal of the confusion that abounds in philosophic speculation, and that in order to achieve clarity of thought we must free our minds from the confusions which arise out of words themselves. No doubt Hobbes says this, but he says it in terms of his system as a whole. Hobbes's 'Table of Absurdity,' that is to say, is not an isolated

- element in an otherwise connected system of thought : neither in De Corpore where it is given nor in Hobbes's system as a whole does its appearance on the scene startle the reader. Yet its all too apparent crudity does. I should like to begin by considering these two points.

An examination of Chapter V of Human Nature (1640), of Chapters IV and V of Leviathan (1651), and of Chapter III of De Corpore (1665) suggests that the Table grew out of Hobbes's persistent efforts to classify all possible types of propositions. 9 He had apparently arrived at the view that there are two large classes of propositions : factual or empirical propositions grounded on sense experience and analytic or arbitrary propositions grounded on reason.1° But although Hobbes's analytic propositions deal merely with the way we use symbols and their logical implications and are thus devoid of factual content, he never­theless wished to maintain that they are neither senseless nor absurd. And it was important for him to maintain this, for analytic propositions, according to him, lie at the very basis of deductive science. He firmly believed that the first prin­ciples of deductive science or reasoning are definitions or statements of the meaning of names. And 'names' are given arbitrarily.n Geometry Cthe only science that it hath pleased God hitherto to bestow on mankind'12) i s such a deductive system of

� To say nothing of the discussion in Chapter V of De Corpore immediately preceding the Table where he speaks of 'errors of sense and cogitation' and 'errors which . . . proceed . . . from reasoning amiss.'

to E. W. III, p. 71 ; Elements, pp. 18-19. n E.W. III , p. 52; E. IJ?. I, pp. 37, 84, and 388. 12 E. !F�'. III, pp. 23-24.

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B LE O F A B S U R D I TY ' 265

thought, yet it is productive of knowledge, 'for when we calculate the magnitude and motions of heaven or earth, we do not ascend into heaven that we may divide it into parts, or measure the motions thereof, but we do it sitting still in our closets or in the dark.'13 But although reason and its products are mere 'fictions,'14 these fictions are not plays of the imagination, and are to be sharply distinguished from a different class of fictions or third class of propositions, those productive of absurd results.

To define more sharply these three distinct types or classes of propositions, Hobbes proposed a system of predication appro­priate to them. Generally speaking, he believed that 'error' should be predicated only of sense experience (that is, 'when a man reckons without the use of words') ; 'truth' ('falsehood' and 'absurdity') should be predicated only of the second group of propositions ; 'absurdity' (and 'falsehood') should be predicated only of the third group. And he argued that when dealing with particular things, only 'error' (and not 'falsehood' or 'absurdity') is the possible danger, but when making a 'general assertion, unless it be a true one, the possibility of it is unconceivable. And words whereby we conceive nothing but the sound, are those we call absurd, insignificant, and nonsense.'15 And because analytic propositions, which Hobbes has in mind here, can lead only to truth, he sometimes uses 'falsehood' and 'absurdity' interchange­ably, and implies that these predicates apply strictly only to the third kind of proposition.16 With this scheme of predication in mind Hobbes proceeded to define, in a systematic way, the nature of those propositions whose fit predicate is 'absurdity' and pro­duced his Table.

The general background of the Table thus indicates that it did not grow out of some independent desire to arrive at a 'Theory of Absurdity,' but rather out of a desire to consolidate his position in regard to the two types of knowledge to which alone, he thought, we have a valid claim : factual knowledge expressed in empirical propositions and hypothetical knowledge expressed in analytic propositions. A consideration of its contents reaffirms this impression.

13 E. W', I, p. 92. 14 See his Tbird Set of Objections. 15 E. W'. III, p. 32. 16 lt would perhaps have been more consistent to say that 'truth' and 'falsehood'

arc fit predicates of the first group (that is, when our 'reckonings' are verbalized) ; that neither 'truth' nor 'falsehood' is a fit predicate of the second group (since the entire structure is analytic and arbitrary) ; and that 'absurdity' is a fit predicate only of the third group.

266 S . M O R R I S EN G E L

Names, Hobbes argues, fall into four separate classes : names of bodies, names of accidents, names of phantasms, and names of names. Absurdities arise when one class of names is used as if it belonged to another class. If in a proposition we combine a name belonging to one class with a name belonging to another class, we leave the bounds of logic, for 'that proposition only is true, in which are copulated two names of one and the same thing ; and that always false, in which names of different things are copulated.'1 7 The only way to speak with reason and logic is to make propositions which consist of parts, all of which originate from the same class-that of bodies, or of accidents, or of phantasms, or of names and speeches. On the basis of these general principles he constructed his Table, showing the seven different ways in which one must arrive at absurd propositions.

1. If the name of a Body 2. If the name of a Body be 3. If the name of a Body 4. Ifthe name ofanAccident copulated 5. Ifthename ofan Accident 6. Ifthe name ofaPhantasm with 7. If the name of a Body,

Accident, or Phantasm

the name of an Accident the name of a Phantasm the name of a Name the name of a Phantasm the name of a Name the name of a Name the name of a Speech

The first thing that strikes one about this table is that it is oddly asymmetrical. One would expect six ways in which absurd­ity is inevitable ('names' and 'speech' assimilated), or ten ('names' and 'speech' taken separately), or nine ('names' and 'speech' taken separately but no absurdity following from their copulation), but not seven. If this table was designed, as has been suggested, strictly as a 'technique of logical analysis,' one might have ex­pected Hobbes to be more precise himself.

Some clue as to his real intentions, however, may be gathered from bis introductory remarks to his Table where he lists, first, only four basic elements out of which the Table is constructed -'bodies,' 'accidents,' 'phantasms,' and 'names' -and then adds this curious note : 'It may happen, also, that the name of a bot[y, of an accident, or of a phantasm, may be copulated with the name of a speech. So that copulated names may be incoherent seven

1 ' E. W. I, p. 57.

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B L E O F A B SU R D I T Y ' 267

manner of ways.' Obviously the fifth element, 'speech' (or the seventh way), came to him as a kind of afterthought. What had Hobbes forgotten ? Simply another element of the logical scheme ? Surely not, for in that case he would have developed it properly and in relation to the other parts of the Tahle. What he had forgotten, I should like to suggest, was the very thing which prompted him to construct the Table in the first place-the business of propositions-which, it suddenly occurred to him, could itself be brought (not very well, as his lame explanation of this last type of absurdity a few pages later shows) under this schema.18

His last statement in his account of the Table lends further support to this view. He says, in conclusion : 'The falsities of propositions in all these several manners, is to be discovered by the definitions of the copulated names.'19 This is a perplexing statement to make at this point in the argument, for one had come to believe that the falsity or absurdity of such propositions followed inevitably from their copulation. If their absurdity does not follow inevitably from their copulation how do they differ from ordinary propositions, ones in which names of the same class are copulated-the truth or falsity of which, he states in the very next sentence (of the following paragraph), is to be determin­ed in precisely this way ? But what Hobbes probably means by 'definition' is simply the classification of terms according to the five basic elements of the Table- bodies, accidents, phantasms, universals, and propositions. That these five elements happen to be the five basic units of his philosophy as well is surely no accident.

These two facts about Hobbes's Table-its place in the line of his argument and its obvious limitations-seem to suggest that the Table arose out of nonlinguistic considerations and was meant to serve an extra-linguistic purpose. Precisely what these other considerations were becomes clear when one examines Hobbes's exposition of the Table, an exposition which reveals at once how intimately the entire scheme he fashioned is connected with his system and echoes its doctrines.

18After completing his explanation of this last type of absurdity he promptly proceeds to forget about it and continues to speak only of names of bodies, accidents, names and phantasms. Obviously he had not quite made up his mind about the status of this element in his Table.

• 19 E. W. I, p. 61 .

268 S . M O R R I S E N G E L

I will now give, first, a synopsis of Hobbes's exposition of the Table, and then proceed to sho\.V how the entire scheme grows out of his system and was meant to serve as its schematic plan.

1 . The absurdity of copulating abstract names (the name of an accident) with concrete names (the name of a body) :

Examples: 'A boqy is extension.' 'Whiteness is a white thing.'

Explanation: 'For seeing no suiject of an accident (that is, no boqy) is an accident: no name of an accident ought to be given to a boqy, nor of a boqy to an accident.'

2. Examples: 'Colour is the oiject of sight, sound of hearing.' 'Space or place is extended.'

Explanation: 'For seeing . . . light, colour, sound, space, etc. appear to us no less sleeping than waking, they cannot be things without us, but only phantasms of the mind that imagines them.'

3. Example: 'Universale est ens.'

Explanation: 'For genus, universale . . . are names of names, and not of things.'

4. Example: 'An oiject is of such magnitude or figure as appears to the beholders.'

Explanation: 'For the same object appears sometimes greater, sometimes lesser, sometimes square, sometimes round.'

5. Example: 'The definition is the essence of a thing.'

Explanation: 'For definition is not the essence of any thing, but a speech signifying what we conceive of the essence thereof.'

6. Example: 'The idea of anything is universal.'

Explanation: 'As if there could be in the mind an image of a man, which were not the image of some one man.'

1. Hobbes's exposition of the first type of absurdity is clearly an extension of his position in regard to the whole question of universals. The same kind of absurdities which arise from the

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B LE O F A B S U R D I T Y ' 269

misunderstanding of the function of universal and abstract names is shown here to arise from the improper combination or copula­tion in a proposition of names of bodies with names of accidents, or vice versa. Hobbes thought that the great function and value of abstract and universal names lay in that they help us to achieve a certain economy of thought by allowing us to reason about things without being constantly anchored to objects. Abstract names, however, have no counterparts in the external world. They are merely ways in which we account for and distinguish those names which do have counterparts in the external world. 20 They constitute a kind of second series or order referring to a first order and not to that to which the first order directly refers. Their great abuse lies in thinking that there exist real counterparts in the external world which answer to these abstractions or constructions. Their value, therefore, can be maintained only so long as one remembers that these names are merely terms descrip­tive of other terms (thinking-boqy, motion of,. the life of, and so forth) and are in no sense self-supporting. To say, then, that 'extension is a body' or 'whiteness is a white thing' is to think of 'extension' or 'whiteness' (being names of accidents) as being names of bodies in their own right. And just as 'accidents' are 'the manner of our conception of body'21 and it would be a gross error to materialize such accidents as if they had a separate existence in the outside world, so it would be absurd to combine the name of an accident with the name of a body.

To put Hobbes's exposition of the first type of absurdity in this wider context is to see it in its proper perspective. By making it a rule of language never to mix these two classes of words Hobbes seems to have thought that he had succeeded in producing a final test of the truth of his position in his polemic against the 'Aristotelians' who maintained a doctrine of essence.22 The Table, in this first form, constituted in his eyes a statement of his philo­sophic position on this question of the objective validity of universals, and he seems to have regarded this statement (with what justice is, of course, another question) as additional proof of that position.

2. His explanation of the second type of absurdity indicates that he regarded its function in a very similar light-and a much more revealing light. We commit absurd speech here when we

20 E. W. III, p. 26. 21 E. W. I, p. 104. 22 E. W. III, p. 70.

270 S . M O R R I S E N G E L

combine names o f bodies which have a real existence i n the external world with names of phantasms which are products of our reactions to stimuli coming from without us. The weakness of his argument is fully evident here, for his examples of absurd speech of this type-unlike the proposition 'Whiteness is a white thing'

are not ones whose absurdity is self-evident. There is nothing obviously absurd about the proposition 'Space or place is extended.' A ware of this himself, he is led to try to establish the absurdity of this type of proposition by appealing to an extra-linguistic argument. In this case his argument is drawn from his general views regarding sensible qualities, the objectivity of which, here again, he had taken such great pains in Hun1an Nature, as elsewhere, to deny.23 His views on this subject and their difficulties are too well known to require further expansion here.

3, 4, 6. Hobbes's discussion of absurd speech of types 3 and 4 adds nothing new either to his linguistic doctrine or his philo­sophical position. He does not have too much to say about these forms of absurdity. And there is good reason for this, for the third type of absurdity results in such propositions as 'There are things universal' and he has already exhausted this topic in his discussion of absurdity of type 1 ; and the fourth type of absurdity results in such propositions as 'An object is of such magnitude or figure as appears to the beholders' and he has exhausted this topic in his discussion of absurdity of type 2. His short notes of explanation and examples, however, do manage to show just where his emphasis really lies. In short, absurdity of types 1 and 3 is based directly on his Theory of Universals, and absurdity of types 2 and 4 is based directly on his Theory of Perception.

Absurdity of type 6, on the other hand, is based on both theories and follows from their basic premises. He stated his view on this matter succinctly in the Leviathan when he declared : 'One universal name is imposed on many things, for their simili­tude in some quality, or other accident : And whereas a proper name bringeth to mind one thing only ; universals recall any one of those many.'24 If, therefore, the imagination (as his Theory of Perception presupposes) provides us only with individual determinate imagery and only the name (a-s his Theory of Uni­versals presupposes), not the image, has a general use, then to combine in a proposition a name of a phantasm (an image) with

23 Elements, p. 5. U E. W. III, p. 20.

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B L E O F A B S C R D IT Y ' 271

the name of a name (a universal) is to commit (as his sixth type of absurdity declares) absurd speech.

5, 7. In 1 , 2, 3, 4, and 6, Hobbes seems to have been intent on showing that certain types of names have no counterparts in the external world and should therefore not be copulated in a proposi­tion with those names that do have such counterparts. In 5 and 7 he seems to be intent upon showing, mainly by implication, that such second-order names can result in meaningful speech when not so copulated. In both cases, however, the final appeal is to the body of his philosophy.

It is absurd, Hobbes argues in 5, to say that 'definition' is the essence of any thing but that of a speech. The definition of X, for example, is not the essence of X; the definition of X is a speech 'signifying what we conceive of the essence' of X. To accept such speeches as true or meaningful, he implies, is to leave the door open to occultism. To avoid it, however, is to point the way to rationalism of the type he himself has proposed, for to Hobbes propositions made up of universal names and propositions made up of abstract names perform an important function in language and are not empty of meaning. The meaning they contain, however, has been arbitrarily arrived at. Reason, which consists in connecting words according to the conventions which we ourselves have arbitrarily decided about their meanings, cannot, it is true, give us knowledge of the nature of things, yet it can and does express the most essential properties of things (for example, our numbering system). Our liguistic system, although arbitrary (made by ourselves), is also meaningful. And it is this aspect of his thought which Hobbes here wishes to reinforce.

His exposition of absurdity of type 7 was much too long to quote, but what he says is this : 'Necessary,' 'contingent,' 'by itself,' and 'by accident' (like 'definition') are not names of things but of propositions or speeches, and have meaning when confined to the description of propositions. It is absurd, therefore, to combine them in a proposition together with names of things and say, for example, that 'some things exist necessarily or by themselves , others contingently or by accident.' What deceives people here is that they think that there is more than one source of imagery (and that, therefore, 'one idea should be answerable to a name, another to a proposition') when there is only one---our fancy which receives sensory stimuli from the external world.

272 S . M O R R I S E N G E L

But although there is only one source of imagery, there i s (and here again this is his main point and the raiJon d' etre for bringing in, at the last moment, this additional fallacy) another source of knowledge, 'propositional knowledge.' This type of knowledge is not to be confused with empirical knowledge, since it is not about 'things' but rather about the correct use of words in pro­positions, the different kinds of which he has isolated in the body of his philosophy.25

I think I have now sufficiently laid bare the pattern of Hobbes's argument. The question now is, does that pattern suggest that Hobbes was trying to prove something about language ? I think not, for if Hobbes had really meant to prove that people committed absurdities in, say, the matter of the 'objective' existence of secondary qualities or the 'objective' validity of universals because they were unaware that language may be systematically misleading, he could hardly have hoped to do so by appealing, as he does, to the facts of his philosophy, for his opponents could then have easily pointed out to him that he was arguing in a circle. Is his Table, then, founded upon a petitio principii, or is there some alternative explanation which will save Hobbes from this embarrassment ? I think there is, and it consists simply in seeing that what Hobbes really wished to do was not to prove some new thesis about language, but rather to lend added strength to a position already established by subsuming it under some general logical linguistic scheme. For Hobbes's line of argument does not proceed from language to the body of his philosophy, but from the body of his philosophy to certain facts about language which tend, he thinks, to lend support to that body. The ultimate appeal is philosophical, not linguistic. And Hobbes's obvious and repeated reference to the body of his philosophy in his exposition of the Table seems to indicate that it was the desire to consolidate the gains made in that philosophy that ultimately prompted him to construct the Table.

To sum up : Hobbes's 'Table of Absurdity' is an attempt to lend added weight to a body of thought by subsuming it under a general schematic plan having the sanction and authority of language. It shows or proves nothing about the logic of language that that body of thought has not already assumed to have proven and, therefore, discovers nothing about language that is not

25 See Elements, pp. 18-19, where he puts this much better.

H O B B E S ' S ' T A B L E O F AB S U R D I T Y' 273

already presupposed by that philosophy. If it is a 'technique of logical analysis,' then that technique is suitable only to Hobbes's philosophy, or to a philosophy which accepts its presuppositions.

To read the Table in this way is, I fully realize, to take the glamour out of it. But one ought to keep in mind, however, that if Hobbes was as sensitive to the logical behaviour of different classes of words as has been suggested, and if he had arrived at any clear conception regarding the dangers of mixing one's categories, he would have seen that his own system suffers throughout of the same weakness, and would have been led to revise his thoughts on a good number of points. That he did not seems to indicate that whatever discoveries he made regarding the 'logic of language' arose out of his attempts to consolidate his gains .rather than out of any independent insights, and that he was too deeply committed to those gains to be able to appreciat� the importance of his discoveries in any disinterested light.

T

1 2

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y OF P U N I S H M E N T

Mario A. Cattaneo 1. INTRODUCTION

HOBBES i s usually considered to be the theorist of the modern Absolute State, founded on a rationalist basis, and

breaking with the medieval theocratic tradition. This is why for long he did not stand very high in the eyes of most of his inter­preters. Recent English studies of Hobbes, however, have tended instead to stress his liberal aspect, re-evaluating him from this standpoint and showing how he may be considered the founder even of the modern democratic State.1

The classic 'liberal' interpretation of Hobbes is that of Strauss , 2 who argues that in Hobbes the transition from the medieval theocratic natural law to modern non-theocratic natural law, from the concept of a law of nature to the concept of a right of nature, may be clearly seen. According to Strauss, the basis for Hobbes's conception is to be found in his insistence on that fundamental, inalienable natural right to self-preservation which is the funda­mental moral fact, the root of all justice and morality. This makes Hobbes the real founder of liberalism ; and Strauss, in fact, says : 'If we may call liberalism that political doctrine which regards as the fundamental political fact the rights, as distinguished from the dudes, of man and which identifies the function of the State with the protection or the safeguarding of those rights, we must say that the founder of liberalism was Hobbes.'3 This statement is still in sharp contrast with many current interpretations. Another decidedly 'liberal' reading of Hobbes is that of Oakeshott, who in his introduction to the Blackwell edition of Leviathan, says that Hobbes 'without being himself a liberal, had in him more of the philosophy of liberalism than most of its professed

1 This article, originally published in Italian under the title 'La Teoria Della Pena in Hobbes', has been translated by Mr. J. M. Hatwell.

• The Political Philosopqy of Hobbes, Chicago, 1936. See also Chapter 1 of this volume.

3 See Ch. 1, p. 13, above.

276 M A R I O A . C A TTANEO

defenders.'4 Hobbes did not mean to deny the freedom of the individual, according to Oakeshott, but rather the freedom of the petty, irresponsible authorities-the so-called intermediate group­ings-and of the churches. One might say, he adds, that 'Hobbes is not an absolutist precisely because he is an authoritarian' :5 and it seems to me that this remark is to be understood in the sense that, if 'absolutism' means a system of government founded essentially on arbitrary rule, then Hobbes's conception, primarily concerned with assuring security and upholding the authority of the law duly promulgated by the sovereign in clear, unequivocal terms, does not favour absolutism. Such liberal interpretations of Hobbes do seem to possess some elements of truth, although this is an area in which the drawing of sharp dividing lines is not really possible ; and on the whole it would probably be more prudent and more reasonable to say that Hobbes's doctrine in fact contains both liberal and absolutist elements.

In the following pages I should like to make a small contribu­tion to the study of this ideological aspect of Hobbes's thought, and to draw attention to one part of his teaching which does seem to me to be markedly liberal. This concerns an aspect sometimes neglected by scholars-his theory of punishment. After con­sidering those parts of Hobbes's writings which deal with this problem, I shall go on to make a comparison between these and the relevant corresponding writings of Montesquieu, Beccaria and Bentham, acknowledged masters of liberalism in criminal law.

2. HoBBEs's CoNcEPTION oF PuNISHMENT

Hobbes's conception of civil society is entirely based on the fundamental principle of security. The desire for security in the unstable conditions of the state of nature, in which man's life is 'solitary, poore, nasty, brutish and short',6 is the fundamental reason for the origin of the Commonwealth. 7 And from the principle of security and peace, which the commonwealth and positive law maintain against the anarchy and violence of the state of nature, Hobbes derives the necessity for a form of

4 Leviathan: Introduction, p. !vii. 5 Op. cit. : Introduction, p. !vii. a Leviathan XIII. (p. 82). 7 See Plamenatz, Mr. Warrender's Hobbes, in Chapter IV of this volume.

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 277

security inside the body politic, for a security in the law itself: S a necessity which shows up clearly in the sections he devotes to civil law, crime and punishment in the Leviathan (chapters XXVI, XXVII and XXVIII), in De Cive (chapters XII and XIV), in the Dialogue, and in the Elements of Law, where he outlines a theory of law with a surprisingly modern ring to it. His preference for Statute rather than custom as a source of law,9 his aversion to the binding force of precedents10, his denial that what we know as jurisprudence should be considered an authoritative source of law,11 his recognition that judges are 'interpreters' only inasmuch as they are delegated by the sovereign,l2 his theory that judges should apply the law laid down by the government and not create it themselves,13 his theory that custom acquires the force of law only by the tacit consent of the sovereign, 14 his affirmation that the subject is free to do or not to do acts which are not expressly forbidden or prescrib<:;d by the law,l5_:__all these point in the one direction : towards an insistence on the necessity of the law being defined and laid down authoritatively, clearly and precisely, and not arbitrarily.

As regards criminal law, which is what concerns us in this study, Hobbes postulates this necessity quite clearly and explicitly. Furthermore, he emphasizes that security in the law is much more important in criminal than in civil law. In the Dialogue, during the discussion about the relation between statute and custom, he makes the philosopher say that 'custom, so far forth as it has the

8 For the distinction between security gained by means of the law and the certitude of the law see Radbruch, La Securite en droit d'apres Ia theorie anglaise in 'Archives de philosophic du droit et de sociologie juridique', Paris, 1936, pp. 86-89.

• Leviathan, XXVI : A Dialogue between a Philosopher and a Student of the Common Law, in E.W. VI, esp. p. 86 and pp. 121-122 : Elements esp., p. 151.

10 Leviathan, XXVI, (pp. 182-3) ; Dialogue cit., p. 86. 11 Leviathan, XXVI, (pp. 182-3) ; Elements, II, 10, 10, (p. 151) ; where he says

'those laws that go under the title of responsa prudentium, that is to say, the opinions of lawyers, are not therefore laws, because responsa prudentium, but because they are admitted by the sovereign.'

12 Leviathan, XXVI, (p. 180) : 'and the Interpreters can be not but those, which the Sovereign, (to whom only the Subject oweth obedience) shall appoint' ; Dialog11e, p. 14: 'Sir Edward Coke . . . whether he had more or less use of reason, was not thereby a judge, but because the King made him so.'

13 Dialogue, p. 124. 14 Leviathan, XXVI, (p. 174): 'When long Use obtaineth the authority of a

Law, it is not the Length of Time that maketh the Authority, but the will of the Sovereign signified by his silence (for Silence is sometimes an argument of Consent)'

15 Leviathan, XXI, (p. 143) 'In cases where the Sovereign has prescribed no rule, there the Subject hath the liberty to do, or to forbeare, according to his own discretion'; De Cive, XIII, 15.

278 M A R I O A . C ATTANEO

force o f a law, hath more o f the nature o f a statute, than the law

of reason especiallv where the question is not of lands and goods, ' ' b th . '16 but of punishments, which are defined only y au oruy.

Hobbes's determination of the authority which has the power to

establish punishments is of importance in this connection. In the

Dialogue the lawyer affirms that the decision as to the punish�ent

to be meted out in any given case should be made on the basts of

a statute, if it prescribes the punishment; if ��t, custom should be

followed. If the case is a new one, the dec1Slon should be based

on reason. But whose reason ? The philosopher answers that if

by reason we mean the natural reaso.n

of each judge, there �re

many different reasons, and the pum�hment w1�l be unce�am.

'In this very difference between the rattonal facu�ttes of parttc�l�r

men lieth . . . . the reason that maketh every pumshment certain :

that is to say, from the variability and diversity of human judg­

ments arises the necessity that one person should be delegated to

prescribe punishments in a way that should be certain and

authoritative for everybody. And the person to whom such power

to prescribe punishments is given cannot be other than the person

in whom the sovereign power is invested : for it would be useless

to give it to one who did not possess the power to have them put

into effect.17 But in Hobbes's system, the certitude is particularly assured

by the explicit and oft-repeated statement. of the principl� nullu_m crimen sine lege et nulla poena sine lege. In his chapter on cnmes m the Ln•iathatt, Hobbes says 'no Law, made after a Fact done, can make it a Crime'IS : and in the following chapter on punishments, he says that 'Harme inflicted for a Fact done before there was a Law that forbad it, is not Punishment, but an act of hostility,' i.e. an act like the acts of war in the state of nature.l9 Similarly he writes in De Cive that 'it is a great part of that liberty, which is harmless to civil government and necessary for each subject to live happily, that there be no penalties dreaded, but what they may both foresee and look for; and this is done, when there are either no punishments at all defined by the laws, or greater not required than are defined.'20 Again, in the Dialogue the lawy�r states : 'But to punish with death without a precedent law, wtll

1• Dialogt�e, p. 126. 17 Dialogue, pp. 121-122. 1s Leviathan, XXVII, (p. 192). 19 Lwiathan, XXVlli, (p. 204). 20 De Cive, XIII, 16.

HOBBES' S THEORY OF PUN I S HM E N T 279

seem but a harsh proceeding with us, who unwillingly hear of arbitrary laws, much less of arbitrary punishments, unless we were sure that all our kings would be as good as David.'21

So much for the importance that Hobbes lays on the certitude of criminal law. Let us come now to the fundamental point in that part of his thought which at present concerns us : his definition of punishment. He states it clearly and explicitly at the beginning of chapter XXVIII of the LetJiathan: 'Punishment is Evill inflicted by publique Authority on him that hath done, or omitted that which is judged by the same Authority to be a Transgression of the Law ; to the end that the will of men may thereby the better be disposed to obedience'. 22

It is clear that the aim of punishment, according to Hobbes, is directed towards the future ; and indeed his assertion that an evil 'inflicted without intention, or possibility of disposing the Delinquent, or (by his example) other men, to obey the lawes' is not punishment but 'an act of hostility', is a direct consequence of his definition. A hurt done without such an end does not come within the definition.23

This point, i.e. the real purpose of punishment, had in fact already been made clear elsewhere in Hobbes's writings, when he was dealing with the laws of nature. The seventh Law of Nature in the Leviathan (the sixth in De Cive) lays down 'that in revenges, (that is, retribution of Evil for Evil,) Men look not at the great­nesse of the evill past, but the greatnesse of the good to follow. Whereby we are forbidden to inflict punishment with any other designe, than for the correction of the offender, or direction of others. . . . Besides, Revenge without respect to the Example, and profit to come, is a triumph, . . . . or glorying in the hurt of another, tending to no end . . . contrary to reason : and to hurt without reason, tendeth to the introduction of Warre; which is against the Law of Nature ; and is commonly stiled by the name of Cruelty .'24

When he has defined punishment, and before he infers any natural consequences from his definition, Hobbes gives a brief digression on the basis of the right to punish. He tells us that

21 Dialogue, p. 123. 22 Leviathan, XXVIII, (p. 202). •a LBViathan, XXVIII, (p. 203). 24 beviathan, XV, (p. 1 00) : De Ciue, III, 1 1 . See also Elemunts II, I, 10, (p. 87), where he says that it is 'much more necessary to prevent violence and rapine, than to punish the same when it is committed.'

280 MARIO A . C ATTANEO

this right 'is not grounded on any concession, or gift of the Subjects,' but arises from the fact 'that before the Institution of Common-wealth, every man had a right to everything, and to do whatsoever he thought necessary to his own preservation' -and therefore to harm others for this end. 'And this is the foundation of that right of Punishing' that at the institution of the Common­wealth the subjects laid down their right to everything and strengthened the sovereign to use his own (he being the only person not to lay down his own right to everything), with the aim of preserving and protecting the lives of everybody. 'So that it was not given, but left to him, and to him . . . . as entire, as in the condition of meer Nature, and of warre of every one against his neighbour' up to the limits established by the Law of Nature.25

Hobbes derives some important conclusions from his defini­tion of punishment. Private revenges can not be called punish­ments, for instance, since they do not proceed from the public authority. Similarly : 'to be neglected, and unpreferred by the publique favour is not a Punishment ; because no new evill is thereby on any man inflicted ; he is onely left in the estate he was in before.' And the fact that-as we have already seen-'evill inflicted by publique Authority, without precedent publique condemnation' is not a punishment, relates to a remark Hobbes makes about preventive detention. Deprivation of a man's personal liberty, he says, 'may happen from two divers ends ; whereof one is the safe custody of a man accused ; the other is the inflicting of paine on a man condemned. The former is not Punishment; because no man is supposed to be Punisht, before he be Judicially heard, and declared guilty. And therefore what­soever hurt a man is made to suffer by bonds, or restraint, before his case be heard, over and above that which is necessary to assure his custody, is against the Law of Nature. But the latter is Punishment, because Evill, and inflicted by publique Authority, for somewhat that has by the same Authority been Judged _a Transgression of the Law.'26

Then again : 'The evill inflicted by usurped power, and Judges without Authority from the Soveraign, is not Punishment; but an act of hostility.'

u Lwialhan, XXVIII, (p. 203). u Lwialhan, XXVIII, (p. 206).

H O B B E S'

S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 281

And : 'If the harm inflicted be lesse than the benefit, or con­tentment that naturally followeth the crime committed, that harm is not within the definition ; and is rather the Price or Redemption, than the Punishment of a Crime : Because it is of the nature of Punishment, to have for end the disposing of men to obey the Law;' whereas in this case it would achieve the con­trary effect.

On the other hand, if the punishment actually inflicted is greater than the one prescribed by the law for the crime that has been committed, then the excess is not a punishment but an act of hostility.27

So far, I have been outlining the general characteristics of Hobbes's conception of punishment. I shall now consider two particular points, both of great importance-Hobbes's attitude to the death penalty and to torture.

·

Let us take the death penalty first. When dealing with the second law of nature, Hobbes writes : 'The mutuall transferring of Right, is that which men call Contract'.28 He then goes on to list the cases in which a contract is invalid, and a typical case of this kind is that of a contract whereby a man undertakes not to defend himself against force with force, 'for no man can transferre, or lay down his Right to save himselfe from Death, Wounds, and Imprisonment, (the Avoyding whereof is the onely End of laying down any Right,) and therefore the promise of not resisting force, in no Covenant transferreth any right ; nor i s obliging. For though a man may Covenant thus, "Unlesse I do so, or so, kill me ;" he cannot Covenant thus, "unlesse I do so, or so, I will not resist you when you come to kill me." For man by nature chooseth the lesser evill, which is danger of death in resisting ; rather than the greater, which is certain and present death in not resisting. And this is granted to be true by all men, in that they lead Criminals to Execution, and Prison, with armed men, notwithstanding that such Criminals have consented to the Law by which they are condemned.'29

27 Leviathan, XXVIII, (pp. 203-4) ; De Ciw, XIII, 16. 28 Leviathan, XIV, (p. 87). 29 Leviathan, XIV, (pp. 91-92) ; De Cive, II, 18. However, Hobbes's reasoning

goes further than the issue of capital punishment, for he says that a man cannot lay down his right to save himself, not only from death, but also from wounds and imprisonment: from this it app�rs to follow that subjects have the right to resist not only the infliction of the death penalty, but also that oflesser punishments, including imprisonment. Hobbes does in fact say explicitly that 'if the Sovereign

282 M A R I O A . C A TTANEO

Going on t o speak of the liberty that subjects enjoy within the Commonwealth, 'that is to say, what are the things, which though commanded by the Soveraign, he may neverthelesse, without Injustice, refuse to do', Hobbes explicitly refers to what he has already stated, saying that the first of these liberties concerns 'all those things, the right whereof cannot by Covenant be transferred.' And thus, granted the principle that 'Covenants not to defend a mans own body, are voyd', he infers that 'If the Soveraign command a man (though justly condemned,) to kill, wound, or mayme himself; or not to resist those that assault him;'-i.e. that desire to kill or wound him-'yet hath that man the Liberty to disobey.'30 Subjects, therefore, have the right to resist the man who carries out the death sentence, even if it has been lawfully given.

Hobbes's position regarding the death penalty thus has a character all of its own. On the one hand, he does not deny the sovereign the power to inflict the death penalty on a subject ; but on the other he recognises that the subject is lawfully entitled to resist the execution of the death sentence. At the moment when the death penalty is inflicted, the rights of the sovereign and the subject are placed on the same plane, and there is a return to the state of nature, whereby at that moment the conflict be­tween the sovereign and the subject takes on the character of a state of war. 81

As for torture, Hobbes's view is that : 'a Covenant to accuse oneself, without assurance of pardon, is . . . invalide. . . . For the Testimony of such an Accuser, if it be not willingly given, is praesumed to be corrupted by Nature; and therefore not to be received : . . . Also Accusations upon Torture, are not to be reputed as Testimonies. For Torture is to be used but as means of conjecture, and light, in the further examination, and search of

command a man . . . not to resist those that assault him . . . yet hath that man the Liherty to disobey', Leviathan, XXI, (p. 142).-The verb 'to assault' denotes an action the end of which may be to kill, to wound, or to put in prison. But discussion of this point would take us very far. It can only be said here that Hobbes uses this thesis in order to refute the theory of passive obedience, according to which we can legitimately break a law, provided that we freely submit to punishment: in this respect his position is entirely opposed to that of Socrates in the 'Crito'. For a fuller discussion of the problem see my II positiz•iStuo giuridico inglese.�Hobbes, Bentham, Austin. Milano 1962, p . 103 ff.

so LIJ!)iathan, XXI, (p. 142) ; De Cive, VI, 13. Sl V. Bobbio, Legge naturale e Iegge civile nella filosofia politica di Hobbes in Scritti in

memoria di Gioele Solari, Tutin, 1954, p. 92.

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S H ME N T 283

truth : and what is in that case confessed, tendeth to the ease of him that is Tortured ; not to the informing of the Torturers : and therefore ought not to have the credit of a sufficient Testimony : for whether he deliver himselfe by true, or false Accusation, he does it by the Right of preserving his own life. '32

These, then, are Hobbes's ideas on punishment ; I must now attempt to justify my assertion that they partake of a fundamental liberalism. I shall centre the discussion on four principal points : the principle of the certitude of the law, the basis of the right to punish and the purpose of punishment, the question of the death penalty, and the question of torture. In the following sections of this article, I intend to support my thesis by examining the points of contact between Hobbes's theory and those of Montesquieu, Bentham and Beccaria, thinkers whose liberalism is particularly noticeable in the field of criminal law.

3 . THE PRINCIPLE OF THE CERTITUDE OF THE LAW

The central position and great importance of the principle of the certitude of the law in Hobbes's thought will, I think, be quite clear from a reading of the passages I have quoted. It will therefore not be necessary to say very much more in this con­nexion. What I wish to stress is that we have in Hobbes one of the earliest and most explicit formulations of a basic principle of the modern liberal state, consecrated by the various Declarations of Rights.33 This fact means that what is termed Hobbes's absolutism acquires a character all of its own.

Now it is true that from a liberal point of view, the certitude (predictability) of the law is not sufficient in itself, since it leaves the problem of content unsolved. To follow the principle nulla poena sine lege does not by itself prevent the laws being oppressive and tyrannical : the law may well be certain, but illiberaL But from a liberal point of view, even if certitude in the law is not sufficient, it is nevertheless necessary in the sense that it eliminates the arbitrary element which is the prime enemy of political liberty. And this is enough to demonstrate that Hobbes's absolutism is very different from modern absolutism or totalitarianism in the

32 Leviathan, XIV, (p. 92). 33 The French Declaration of 1789, art. 8, is representative: 'The law must

establish only those punishments strictly and obviously necessary, and nobody may _be punished except by force of a law which has been established and published prevtous to the crime, and lawfully applied.' This point has been noticed by Lopez de Onate, La certetta del diritto, Roma, 1950, p. 78.

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Fascist or Communist sense, since one o f the characteristic features of this latter type of absolutism is the presence of arbitra­riness and insecurity, the lack of any certitude of the law, the power of a judge to pronounce sentence on the basis not of a general objective rule, but of the 'healthy instinct of the people'M or of the 'revolutionary conscience of the proletariat.'35

This aspect of Hobbes's teaching places him in close relation with the thinkers mentioned above. Ideas common to all four are : their general attachment to the principle of the certitude of the law ; more particularly their affirmation of the higher authority of the written law of the Statute book, authoritatively laid down and over-riding Custom, precedents, and judge-made law ; their aversion to any excessive discretional powers being granted to the judges and to any 'creative' function in judges; and lastly their affirmation of the principle nulla poena sine lege. There is a common attitude, an attitude of hostility to the confusion and uncertainty wrought by Common Law in England (see Hobbes's polemic against Coke, and Bentham's against Blackstone and the English judges) and to Roman Law in the form of Jus Commune on the Continent (see particularly Beccaria's lively attack at the beginning of his book),36 and this attitude has had considerable historical importance in the preparation for Codification and for the modern liberal State. (I am not here concerned with the differences that developed subsequently between Anglo-Saxon law and Continental law, since at the time of the controversies, in the 17th and 1 8th centuries, the situation in the two regions was probably similar in many ways.)

It should be noted in particular that, as regards the relation between the law laid down by the sovereign and judge-made law, the three later authors go further than Hobbes and take up a more radical position.

Montesquieu, in a famous phrase, affirmed that 'les juges de la nation ne sont . . . . que la bouche qui prononce les paroles de la loi ; des etres inanimes qui n'en peuvent moderer ni la force ni la rigueur.'37 Beccaria declared that not even the authority to

34 See W. Friedmann, Legal Theory, 3rd ed. London, 1 953, p. 274. 35 V. R. Schlesinger, Soviet Legal Theory, 2nd ed., London, 1951 : on the specific

relation with Hobbes, see R. Capitant, Hobbe; et I'E.tat totalitaire in 'Archives de Philosophic du Droit et de Sociologie juridique,' 1936, esp. pp. 57, 62 and 71.

36 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, 'A chi legge', ed. P. Calamandrei, Le Monnier, Florence, 1950, pp. 145 et seqq.

37 Montesquieu, Esprit des Lois, livre XI, ch. VI, Garnier, Paris, Vol. I, p. 166.

H O BBES ' S T H E O R Y O F PUN I S H:M E N T 285

interpret the criminal laws may reside in the criminal judges, for the simple reason that they are not legislators, 38 and that there is nothing more dangerous than the common axiom that says we must heed the spirit of the law.39 One might also mention Bentham's fierce attack on all unwritten, Common, or j udge-made law which gives rise to a set of personal and necessarily ex post (acto laws:to Hobbes, however, admits that 'all Lawes, written, and unwritten, have need of Interpretation,'41 although, as we have seen, he is definitely opposed to the judges having any creative function.

Nothing further need be said about the principle ntllla poena sine lege, then, all four authors being in full agreement about it.

Montesquieu insists that in a republican State the judges' job is only to decide whether the accused is guilty. They must afterwards restrict themselves to inflicting the punishment prescribed by the law.42 Bentham insists on the necessity of the law being known, and states that the great utility of the law is its certitude. He stresses that it is particularly necessary that the punishment attaching to a given criminal law should be well known, since it is punishment that the legislator has relied on as a deterrent to law-breakers.43 Beccaria states that only the laws

sa Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, IV, ed. cit., p. 1 70. 39 Beccaria, ibid., IV, p. 17 4. •o See especially the celebrated remark of Bentham on the way in which English

judges formed Common Law, in Wt>rk.r, ed. Bowring, Vol. V, p. 231. 'Do you know hmv they make it? Just as a man makes laws for his dog. \When your dog does anything you want to break him of, you wait until he does it and then beat him. 1his is the way you make laws for your dog, and this is the way judges make laws for you and me.' See also Traitis de legislation civile et petlt1le, E. Dumont, Paris, 1802, tome I part II ch. XXXI, p. 356 : 'If unwritten law has a Legislator it is the judge himself: a Legislator whose laws are entirely personal, and always necessarily ex post facto: a Legislator who only promulgates his laws to the detriment of the individuals thev apply to'. See also Tome II, Principes du code civil ch. XVII, p. 96: 'But when the' judge dares to assume the power of interpreting the law, i .e. to substitute his will for the legislator's, then everything is left to his discretion and nobody can foresee where his fancy will lead him.'

41 Leviathan, XXVI, (p. 182). 42 Montesquieu, F.sprit des Lois, livre VI, ch. III, ed. cit., p. 82. About him sec

Graven, Montesquieu et le droit penal in La pensee politique et constitutionnelle de Montesq11ieu, Bicmtenaire de L'E.rprit des Lois, Recueif Sirey, Paris, 1952, pp. 219-220 'L'ideal est done pour lui, comme i l sera pour son disciple Beccaria et pour le legislateur de 1789 tout penetre de ses idees, que Ia loi prevoie elle-meme et de maniere stricte, tant les infractions punissables, que les peines dont elles doivent etre frappees.'

43 Bentham, Trait is cit., tome I, ch. XXXI, p. 356: 'The great utility of the law is its certitude.' Tome III, 'Promulgations des Lois,' p. 278 : 'There are some laws that seem to be naturally well-known, such as those concerning crimes against the individual, larceny, insulting behaviour, fraud, murder etc., but the notoriety does not extend to the punishment which nevertheless is the motive relied on by the legislation to make people respect the law.'

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can stipulate the punishment for a given crime, and the authority to stipulate punishments can only reside in the legislator, for he represents all society banded together by social contract. 44 He also states that each citizen must be able to know when he is guilty or when he is innocent.45

Closely linked with the principle nulla poena sine lege is the corollary that we have seen Hobbes infer from his definition of punishment : any infliction of a punishment greater than the one prescribed by the law is an act of hostility. There is an exact parallel to this in Beccaria, who states that a punishment which is increased beyond the limit laid down by law, is a just punishment plus a further punishment : no judge may, therefore, under any excuse of zeal or the public good, increase the punishment prescribed for a criminal citizen.46

I find a similar link with the principle of the certitude of the law in another of Hobbes's corollaries to his definition of punish­ment, where he says that an evil inflicted by the authority without precedent public condemnation is not a true punishment but an act of hostility, and makes the interesting and important observa­tion that for this reason 'the safe custody of a man accused . . . . is not Punishment', any hurt he may suffer in this case constituting a violation of the law of nature.

Once again, a comparison may be made with Beccaria, who states that if detention is a punishment that must necessarily, unlike other punishments, precede any declaration of guilt,47 the law must establish beyond any doubt under what circumstances a citizen may be arrested. He deplores that accused and convicted persons should be thrown together into the same dungeon. 48

Both Hobbes and Beccaria at this point affirm the principle proclaimed by the modern liberal Constitutions, that no man may be considered guilty until he has been definitely convicted.49 This principle has been incorporated into the legal system of almost all modern civil States, although frequently the social and political reality in these States does not correspond to the legisla­tive proclamation. Bearing in mind present realities, and the

44 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pem, III, ed. cit., pp. 167-168. 45 Beccaria, ibid., XXXIII, p. 343. 46 Beccaria, ibid., III, p. 168. 47 Beccaria, ibid., VI, p. 185. 48 Beccaria, ibid., VI, p. 188. u Beccaria, ibid., VI, p. 187 : 'A man accused of a crime, imprisoned and then

acquitted, ought not to take with him thence any stain of infamy.' See also the Italian Constitution, Art. 27 ., para. 2.

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y O F P U K I S H YI E K T 287 sufferings caused by a protracted detention before trial to those who are sometimes subsequently found innocent and released, one cannot but recognise that there is here far greater liberalism in the thought of the absolutist Hobbes than in the actual practice of many States which are nevertheless considered liberal and democratic.

4. THE BASIS FOR THE RIGHT TO PuNISH AND THE PuRPOSE OF

PUNISHMENT

As regards the basis for the right to punish, Beccaria is the only one of our authors with whom we can draw parallels, since he is the only one who, like Hobbes, is a contractualist. For both Hobbes and Beccaria the right to punish has a contractualistic basis, and derives its justification from the transition from the state of nature to the commonwealth by means of the social contract. The social contract in both authors is made by men's giving up the rights and liberties they held under the state of nature to the person who is the depositary of sovereignty. The contractualistic conceptions of Hobbes and Beccaria are thus basically very similar : for both writers the state of nature is a state of war and uncertainty50 and in both writers men draw up the social contract in order to achieve a condition of peace and security.

There is, however, a difference concerning the extent to which men give up their original natural liberty at the moment of the social contract. For Beccaria, men sacrifice a part of their liberty in order to enjoy the remainder in peace and security. The total of all these parts of liberty, sacrificed for the good of each, makes up the sovereignty of a nation, and the sovereign is the lawful

50 Though see Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, 'A chi legge', ed. cit. pp. 151-152 : 'It would be a mistake for anybody speaking about the state of war that existed before the state of Society, to understand it in Hobbes's sense, that of no duty and no prior obligation, instead of understanding it as a fact arising fro m the corruption of human nature, and from the lack of any express penalty.' Now Warrender i n The Politital Philosophy of Hobbes, Clarendon Press, 1957, esp. Part I : Obligation in the State rif Natttre, maintains that in Hobbes's state of nature obligations are not lacking, but only imperfect and ineffective through the lack of penalties and of any condition of validity, that an individual is not bound to abide by covenants if he is not certain that other parties will do likewise. If we agree with Warrender, then Beccaria's and Hobbes's thinking about the state of nature must appear very similar. See also R. Moodolfo's introduction to Opere Scelte di Cesare Beccaria, Bologna, 1925, p. xvi, and the same writer's Cesare J3ev,;ria, Nuova Accademia, Milano, 1960, pp. 40, 41, 1 16.

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depositary and administrator o f these parts. 51 The sovereign then has to find some tangible motives which will deter men from once again submerging the laws of the commonwealth in the ancient chaos, and these tangible motives are the punishments laid down against those who transgress the law. 52 But for Hobbes, as we have seen, the sovereign's right to punish does not derive from the subjects' granting anything, but from an extension of his own original right to protection and self-preservation, which in turn derives from all other men's completely giving up their own corresponding rights. However, these differences, which have been particularly emphasised by some authors,53 must not be allowed to obscure the similarity between them in so far as they uphold the contractualistic nature of the right to punish, a similarity especially relevant in connection with the death penalty, with which I shall deal at a later stage.

If the right to punish has a contractualistic basis in Hobbes, the characteristics, function and purpose of punishment are conceived by him according to utilitarian principles : and in fact we have already seen that, of what are generally considered to be the three classical theories of the justification and the basis for punishment (retribution, correction and prevention), Hobbes definitely rejects the first and accepts the other two.

He rejects the theory of retribution as an expression of one of the baser feelings, that of vainglory as the fruit of a desire for revenge. His condemnation of it is therefore, I think, a moral judgment. On the contrary, he accepts the theory of correction and the theory of prevention-the former, because 'correction

51 Beccaria, Dei de!itti e delle pene, II, ed. cit., p. 164. 62 Beccaria, ibid., II, p. 165. 53 Corpaci, II Contrattualismo di Beccaria in 'Rivista internazionale di filosofia

del diritto,' 1959, p. 243, note. See however a description of the ri?ht to punish, characteristic of the Enlightenment, which seems to follow Hobbes thought to a large extent, in G. Solari, Kant e Ia dottrina penaie de!!a retribuzione, ('Rivista di Filosofia,' 1929, p. 27). 'The right to punish is postulated as a subjective right of the individual considered empirically (i.e. as the temporal and spatial manifestation of his thoughts), who protects his natural rights with punishment, with the chief purpose of preventing violations of it in the future and of making mutual inter­course and security possible. But these ends are better assured by a politically organised collectivity than by the individual : hence the individual gives up his right to punish which is, in practice, an empty one, and hands it over to the State, created and maintained by free agreement. The right to punish passes from the individual to the State, and its nature and aims remain unchanged, since the State is itself the extension and strengthening of the individual, and carries out its punitive function within the limits of the covenant and for the common utility, which is the utility of the individuals it comprises.'

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S HM E N T 289

of the offender' is one of the purposes of punishment ;5' and (especially) the latter, since the principal end of punishment is 'that the will of men may thereby the better be disposed to obedience' i.e., to prevent crime.

This outline of the purposes of punishment leads me to conclude that Hobbes's conception contains in essence the basic principles of a utilitarian theory of punishment, principles that were later developed and elaborated by Beccaria and Bentham with legal and social reform definitely in mind.

If we consider Bentham's ideas, for example, we shall see him claiming that punishment is in itself a mischief or evil (Hobbes calls it an 'evil'), and, this being so, 'Upon the principle of utility, if it ought at all to be admitted, it ought only to be admitted in as far as it promises to exclude some greater evil.'55 He says that the primary and immediate end of punishment is to serve as a control over action. This action may be the guilty person's or it may be other people's. Punishment controls the actions of the former by influencing his will through reform or re-education, or by influencing his physical power, 'by disablement' : and it controls the actions of others by example, 56 Beccaria says, very clearly and simply, that the end of punishment is not to vex and grieve a living being, and not to undo a crime which has already been committed, but to prevent the guilty party from doing fresh harm to his fellow-citizens, and to deter others from com­mitting the same crimes.o7

We have seen that Hobbes concludes from his definition of punishment that the evil inflicted by means of the punishment ought to exceed the benefit gained by means of the crime, for if not, it would prove an incentive and not a deterrent to crime. Similarly, Bentham affirms that 'the evil of the punishment must be made to exceed the advantage of the offence' ;58 and Beccaria says that, for a punishment to be efficient, the evil produced by it should exceed the good which derives from the crime. 69 It

" Leviathan XV, (p. 100). us Bentham, An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation, ch. XIII,

Sect. I, 2nd ed., Oarendon Press, 1907, p. 170. 56 Bentham, ibid., pp. 170-171, note. 37 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, XV, ed. cit., pp. 242-3. •8 Bentham, Theory of Legislation, ed. Ogden, London, 1 931, p. 325. See also

An Introduction to, etc., ed. cit. ch. XIV, p. 179 : 'The value of the punishment must not be Jess in any case than what is sufficient to outweigh that of the profit of the offence.'

5& Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, XV, ed. cit., p. 245. u

290 M A R I O A . C AT T A N E O

will be remembered that i t i s from this premise that Beccaria and Bentham develop their own theories about the relation between punishment and crime, about mildness in punishment, and about the need to turn to the best advantage of society the relation between the utility of punishment (deriving from its purpose as a deterrent to crime) and its inherent mischief (deriving from the fact that it is an evil) . For while an excess of disadvantage deriving from the punishment over the benefit deriving from the crime is essential for the punishment to make sense at all, this balance of disadvantage should not exceed a certain maximum. All that is needed, says Beccaria, and the italics are mine, is that the evil of the punishment should exceed the advantage deriving from the crime : anything over and above that is therefore superfluous, and tyrannical. 60 Punishments that are greater than those required to preserve the fund of public safety are unjust by nature; and punishments are just, in so far as security is sacred and inviolable and the sovereign is preserving the greatest measure of liberty for his subjects. 61 Bentham likewise states that punishment must be economic, that is to say it must have only that degree of severity necessary to achieve its end. Anything over and above this is not only superfluous evil but also causes a multitude of difficulties which defeat the ends of justice.62

Hobbes did not expressly draw these conclusions himself, of course, and it would not be right to make him into a social or penal reformer like Beccaria and Bentham, who were moved by humanitarian motives. All I wish to point out here is a simple fact-extremely interesting for the student of Hobbes's thought -that the premises and starting points from which other writers draw their conclusions are already in existence in Hobbes.

By way of another specific example, let us recall that Hobbes said 'that all evill which is inflicted without intention, or possibility of disposing the Delinquent, or . . . other men, to obey the Lawes is not Punishment'63 (my italics). Bentham develops and clarifies this point, saying that a punishment should not be inflicted when it is not effective, that is to say when it cannot operate in such a way as to prevent the evil (i.e. the crime).64

60 Beccaria, ibid. XV. p. 245. n Beccaria, ibid. II, p. 167. 62 Bentham, Traites de Legislation cit., tome II, 'Principles du Code Penal,' ch. VI,

p. 406. See also An Introduction to the Principles cit., ch. XIV, pp. 179, 181, 1 92. 63 Leviathan, XXVIII, (p. 203). 64 Bentham, An Introduction to etc. cit., ch. XIII, p. 171 .

H O B B E S ' S T HE O RY O F P U N I S H M E N T 291

Montesquieu, Beccaria and Bentham say that, in order for punishment to be an effective deterrent, the necessary ingredients are mildness and swiftness, not atrocity.65 Hobbes does not actually say this, but he insists on the deterrent character of punishment, from which principle the other writers drew their principles as natural conclusions. He thus opens up the road to a liberal concept of criminal law.65a

5. THE QuEsTION oF THE DEATH PENALTY

The element of the contract recurs in Hobbes's consideration of the death penalty, and here too a very apposite and interesting comparison with Beccaria can be made.

First, let us recall Hobbes's peculiar position with regard to this problem. As we have seen, he does not deny the sovereign the right to inflict capital punishment, but he recognises that the subject condemned to death has the right to resist the man who carries the sentence into effect, since the law of nature does not admit that an individual can validly oblige himself not to resist violence and threats to his life or person. Hobbes derives his position on this question from his attitude to the content of the social contract.

The first argument adduced by Beccaria against the death penalty also has a contractualistic character. He first argues against any right to punish one's fellow men by death, and follows this up with arguments of a utilitarian nature against the utility and necessity of capital punishment. By what right, he asks, can men presume to kill their fellow-men? It certainly cannot be the same right as gave rise to sovereignty and the laws, for the laws are nothing but a sum of small portions of each man's personal

65 Montesquieu, Esprit des lois, livre VI, ch. IX, XI, XU, XIII, XV, XVI, livre XII, ch. IV, VI, VII, VIII, XVIII: Beccaria, Dei Delitti e delle pene, XV, XIX, XX, XXIII, XXIV: Bentham, An Introduction to, etc., ch. XIII and XIV.

••a For a further confirmation of this, it may be remarked that Hobbes also says : 'All punishments of Innocent subjects, be they great or little, are against the Law of Nature: For Punishment is only for Transgression of the Law, and therefore there can be no Punishment of the Innocent,' (Leviathan, p. 207). Hobbes, moreover, establishes some defences negativing criminal liability which are nowadays accepted by the penal codes of democratic states : these are the pleas of self-defence and of necessity. They are based on the principle of legitimate self-preservation, and on the obligation to perform one's duties: the latter is explained by the fact that a crime committed in such circumstances cannot rightly be punished by the sovereign, who i s its real author. (Leviatha11, XVII, p. 197). On this point see my II po.ritMsmo

giuridico, ed. cit., pp. 87-88.

U.I

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liberty, and they represent the general will, which is the sum of the individual wills. Whoever can have desired to leave other men with the discretion to kill him ? However can the slight sacrifice of each man's liberty be made to include that of the greatest good of all, his life ? . . . the death penalty is therefore not a right, indeed it cannot be. It is a war of a whole nation against one citizen.66

In any close comparison between Hobbes and Beccaria on this point, it will be useful to consider the opinions, to some extent opposed, of two contemporary scholars : Bobbio and Strauss. Bobbio, on the one hand, emphasizes that in Hobbes a subject's right to resist is in no way met by any duty on the part of the sovereign not to sentence him to death if in the sovereign's judgment he deserves it ; and he maintains that Cesare Beccaria started from the same presupposition as Hobbes (i.e. that 'tht!' slight sacrifice of each man's liberty', from which sovereignty is constituted, cannot 'be made to include that of the greatest .good of all, his life') and thence arrived at a rejection of the death penalty: whereas Hobbes simply admits that the subject has the lawful power to resist the man who carries the sentence into effect, but does not deny the sovereign the right to sentence and have the sentence carried out upon the reluctant subject, even if he is lawfully reluctant.67 Bobbio's view is that in this case two equal and opposite rights have clashed, this being explained by the fact that the covenant has been broken, so that the subject and the sovereign have reverted to the state of nature, in which the stronger will win. 68

Strauss on the other hand points out that 'if the only uncon­ditional moral fact is the individual's right of self-preservation, civil society can hardly demand from the individual that he resign that right . . . by submitting to capital punishment . . . Hobbes was consistent enough to grant that, by being justly and legally condemned to death, a man does not lose the right to defend his life by resisting 'those that assault him'. . . . But by granting this, Hobbes in fact adtnitted that there exists an insoluble conflict between the rights of the government and the natural right of the individual to self-preservation. This conflict was solved, in the spirit if against the letter of Hobbes, by Beccaria, who inferred ·-

66 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, XVI, ed. cit., pp. 250-253. 67 Bobbio, Legge Naturale cit., p. 91. 68 Bobbio, ibid., p. 92.

H O B B E S ' S 'I' H E O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 293

from the absolute primacy of the right of self-preservation the necessity of abolishing capital punishment'. 69

Bobbio thus tends to stress the difference between the two writers on this problem, while Strauss tends to show up their substantial agreement or similarity : a difference most easily explained if we consider the different aims of the two scholars. Bobbio wishes to represent Hobbes as an initiator or precursor of legal positivism, and to indicate how he tends to eliminate any residual influence of the laws or rights of nature from the common­wealth. Strauss, on the other hand, wishes to concentrate on Hobbes as the representative of non-theocratic natural law and precursor of liberalism, and to indicate how he founds his whole theory on man's natural right to self-preservation.

It seems clear that there is indeed a discrepancy in Hobbes's irunking on this point : a discrepancy between his theory of sovereignty and his conception of the basic and primary character of the natural right to self-preservation. Each of these two con­ceptions claims to be absolute, but finds an insurmountable obstacle in the similar claim of the other. Yet Hobbes's position, inconclusive as it is, is significant. It is particularly significant if we refer to the common idea of Hobbes as the theorist of absolut­ism, for having arrived at this point he did not take his theory of sovereignty to its logical conclusion. He stopped there and set a limit to its absoluteness, thus paving the way for Beccaria, and laying the foundations for a liberal development in the field of criminal law.

In order to complete the comparison and underline the substantial agreement between Hobbes and Beccaria on the question of the death penalty, I cannot do better than quote again Beccaria's definition of it as 'the war of a whole nation against one citizen',70 which has the same sense as Hobbes's 'act of hostility', which, as we have seen, takes place on the infliction of an evil that does not constitute a punishment in the strict sense of the word, since it is not directed towards the purpose he specifies in his definition of punishment, or since for other reasons it does not meet the requirements laid down by the definition. 'Act of hostility', in Hobbes's terminology, particularly refers to the evil inflicted on enemies and rebels, whereas 'punish-

69 See Ch. 1, p. 26, above. 70 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, XVI, ed. cit., p. 253.

M A R I O A. C A T T A N E O

is tbe expression used for the evil inflicted o n those who recognise the authority of the sovereign. 71 One thus

help seeing the substantial agreement between Hobbes's �!llception and Beccaria's, and it is difficult to avoid the inference inat the 'spirit' of Hobbes's theory does, therefore, really imply ��ection of the death penalty.

As a final confirmation of this thesis, let us examine the different llDiitions that two other writers take up with regard to the death tt:l�ty : Rousseau and Montesquieu, theorists respectively of tll:ocracy and liberalism, the former of whom also faces and

the problem on contractualistic premises. Rousseau affirms that at the moment of the social contract a

lllan consents to being killed if he should become a murderer, in not to become a murderer's victim. Thus, in making the

0 . contract, far from disposing of his own life, he thinks 6� 1�thing but preserving it, for it is not to be presumed that at �e �o�ent of contract any of the contracting parties is pre-dr:a�g getting himself hanged. 72

It· Sltnllarly, although Montesquieu starts off from non-con­a �c�a�stic premises, he affirms that the permissibility of putting n-�nal to death derives from the fact that the law which �as sh�s him is made in his favour. A murderer, for example, � �Joyed the laws that condemn him. They have preserved ag,· . e for him at all times, and he cannot therefore protest

'41tlst them.7s llle

lt is easy to see the similarity between these two lines of argu­<te�t, and the way that they clash with Beccaria's. 74. And we iliith

brought to the realization of the fact that Hobbes's position �0 regard to this problem is more liberal than Rousseau's and

�tesquieu' s. 74.a lj ,,l..eviathan, XVIII, (p. 204). la ltousseau, Confrat Social, livre II, ch. V.

uieu, Esprit des Lois, livre XV, ch. II, ed, cit., p. 256. s aod Rousseau's positions on this question have been compared by Radbruch in Rechtsphilosophie, Koehler, Stuttgart, 1956, 5th ed.,

P• 270-272 and Isaak Iselin iiber Cesare Beccaria in Elegantiac Juris Leipzig, 1938, p. 65. e noticed, however, that the attitude of these two writers towards ent contradicts the main tenets of their doctrines. Rousseau,' in

ot been followed on this point by his most faithful disciples: one mav .�, � o.bespier��·s. speech in.the Constituent Assembly against capital punishment, l' 4l!c, �r�t cnt1ctsm by Samt-Just, Esprit de Ia Revolution et de Ia Constitution m �Qt�i . arts, 1791, IV Part;ie, ch. IX, p. 113: 'Quelle veneration que m'imposc te de J. J. Rousseau, Je ne te pardonne pas, oh grand homme, d'avoir justine

H O B B E S'

S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 295 6. ToRTURE

As has been seen, Hobbes denies the validity of 'a Covenant to accuse oneself', and affirms that 'the Testimony of such an Accuser' is 'not to be received.' We have seen too, how he links up this question with the problem of torture, saying that 'Also Accusations upon Torture, are not to be reputed as Testimonies' since 'what is in that case confessed, tendeth to the ease of him that is tortured; not to the informing of the Torturers.'

On this point, too, a comparison with Beccaria is particularly interesting and illuminating. He too finds a link between the two points. When he speaks of 'suggestive' questioning, i.e. questioning that suggests to the offender some immediate answer, 75 he notices a contradiction between the laws that on the one hand forbid it, possibly because it seems to be against very nature that an offender should immediately accuse himself, and those that on the other hand admit torture. In fact he asks what questioning is more suggestive than pain, pain which to the weak man will suggest confession as a deliverance from present torment. 76 In the section specifically devoted to torture, Beccaria affirms that it is an attempt to confuse all relations if we require a man to be accuser and accused at one and the same time, if we expect pain to be the melting-pot of truth. 7 7

So Beccaria finds that one of the arguments against torture is that it causes the accused to become the accuser, which is clearly against nature. Thus in both writers there is a connexion between 'accusing oneself' and 'torture', both of which are viewed with disfavour, although with a difference of tone and emphasis. With regard more specifically to the subject of torture, we may note that while in what is perhaps one of the finest passages in his Dei delitti e delle pene Beccaria does not once let up in lus fight against this judicial barbarity, Hobbes seems to admit it, or at least does not take up a definite stand against it. There is, there­fore, a difference between the two writers that I am not trying to ignore, and once again I am not trying to make Hobbes into a le de mort; si le peuple ne peut communiqner le droit de sou verainete, comment communiquera-t-il les droits sur sa vie ?' and p. 114: 'Rousseau, tu t'es trompe ; c'est dis-tu pour n'etre pas victimc d'un assassin que tu consens a mourir si t1.1 le deviens, mais tu ne dois pas consentir a devenir assassin, mais tu violes Ia nature ct l'inviolabilite du contrat, et le doute du crime suppose deja qu'il te sera possible de t'enhardir a le commettre'.

76 Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, X, cd. cit., p. 207. 76 Beccaria, ibid., p. 208. 77 Beccaria, ibid., XII, p. 215.

294 M A R I O A . C A T T A N E O

ment' is the expression used for the evil inflicted o n those who generally recognise the authority of the sovereign. 71 One thus cannot help seeing the substantial agreement between Hobbes's conception and Beccaria's, and it is difficult to avoid the inference that the 'spirit' of Hobbes's theory does, therefore, really imply a rejection of the death penalty.

As a final confirmation of this thesis, let us examine the different positions that two other writers take up with regard to the death penalty : Rousseau and Montesquieu, theorists respectively of democracy and liberalism, the former of whom also faces and solves the problem on contractualistic premises.

Rousseau affirms that at the moment of the social contract a man consents to being killed if he should become a murderer, in order not to become a murderer's victim. Thus, in making the social contract, far from disposing of his own life, he thinks d�' nothing but preserving it, for it is not to be presumed that at the moment of contract any of the contracting parties is pre­meditating getting himself hanged. 72

Similarly, although Montesquieu starts off from non-con­tractualistic premises, he affirms that the permissibility of putting a criminal to death derives from the fact that the law which punishes him is made in his favour. A murderer, for example, has enjoyed the laws that condemn him. They have preserved his life for him at all times, and he cannot therefore protest against them. 73

It is easy to see the similarity between these two lines of argu­ment, and the way that they clash with Beccaria's. 74 And we are brought to the realization of the fact that Hobbes's position with regard to this problem is more liberal than Rousseau's and Montesquieu' s. 74a

71 Leviathan, XVIII, (p. 204). 72 Rousseau, Contrat Social, livre 11, ch. V. 78 Montcsquicu, Esprit des Lois, livre XV, ch. II, ed, cit., p. 256. 14 Becearia's and Rousseau's positions on this question have been compared

and di�sed by Radbruch in "&chtsphi/osophie, Koehler, Stuttgart, 1956, 5th ed., ed. Enk Wolf, pp. 270-272 and Isaak Iselin Nbir Cesare Beccaria in Elogantiao Juris Crimina/is, Basel-Leipzig, 1938, p . 65.

74" It must be noticed, however, that the attitude of these two writers towards capital punishment contradicts the main tenets of their doctrines. Rousseau,

' in fact, has not been followed on this point by his most faithful disciples : one may recall Ro

.bespier��·s. speech in.the Constituel?-t Assembly against capital punishment,

or the d1rect cnt1c1sm by Saint-Just, Esprtt de Ia Revolution et de Ia Constitution m France,

, Paris, 1791, IV Partie, ch. IX, p. 1 1 3 : 'Quelle veneration que m'impose

l'autome de J. J. Rousseau, je ne te pardonne pas, oh grand homme, d'avoir justilie

H O B B E S ' S T HE O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 295

6. ToRTURE As has been seen, Hobbes denies the validity of 'a Covenant

to accuse oneself', and affirms that 'the Testimony of such an Accuser' is 'not to be received.' We have seen too, how he links up this question with the problem of torture, saying that 'Also Accusations upon Torture, are not to be reputed as Testimonies' since 'what is in that case confessed, tendeth to the ease of him that is tortured; not to the informing of the Torturers.'

On this point, too, a comparison with Beccaria is particularly interesting and illuminating. He too finds a link between the two points. When he speaks of 'suggestive' questioning, i.e. questioning that suggests to the offender some immediate answer, 75 he notices a contradiction between the laws that on the one hand forbid it, possibly because it seems to be against very nature that an offender should immediately accuse himself, and those that on the other hand admit torture. In fact he asks what questioning is more suggestive than pain, pain which to the weak man will suggest confession as a deliverance from present torment. 76 In the section specifically devoted to torture, Beccaria affirms that it is an attempt to confuse all relations if we require a man to be accuser and accused at one and the same time, if we expect pain to be the melting-pot of truth.77

S o Beccaria finds that one of the arguments against torture is that it causes the accused to become the accuser, which is clearly against nature. Thus in both writers there is a connexion between 'accusing oneself' and 'torture', both of which are viewed with disfavour, although with a difference of tone and emphasis. With regard more specifically to the subject of torture, we may note that while in what is perhaps one of the finest passages in his Dei delitti e delle pene Beccaria does not once let up in hls fight against this judicial barbarity, Hobbes seems to admit it, or at least does not take up a definite stand against it. There is, there­fore, a difference between the two writers that I am not trying to ignore, and once again I am not trying to make Hobbes into a

le droit de mort; si le peuple ne peut communique! le droit de souverainete, comment communiquera-t-il lcs droits sur sa vie?' and p. 1 1 4 : 'Rousseau, tu t'es trompe ; c'est dis-tu pour n'etre pas victime d'un assassin que tu c.onsens it mourir si tu le deviens, mais tu ne dois pas consentir a devenir assassin, mais tu violes Ia nature et l'inviolabilite du contrat, et le doute du crime suppose deja qu'il te sera possible de t'enhardir a le commettre'.

70 Beccaria, Dei delitti c delle pene, X, cd. cit., p. 207. 76 Beccaria, ibid., p. 208. 77 Beccaria, ibid., Xll, p. 215.

296 M A R I O A . C A TT A N E O

social reformer. Once again, as in the case of the death penalty, Hobbes remains halfway, on the one hand admitting torture 'as means of conjecture, and light, in the further examination, and search for truth', and on the other hand denying that confessions based on it may be used as evidence, for the reasons given above.

But in the case of torture, as in the case of the death penalty, it is just these elements which indicate a similarity between Hobbes and Beccaria, which in Hobbes's thinking show an opening, almost a breakthrough, towards a fully liberal conception of criminal law. I am referring to the denial that pain is a valid means of learning the truth, a denial which led Beccaria to consider torture as the surest means of acquitting strong rogues and condemning weak innocents. 78 This denial forms the sub­stantial part of Hobbes's argument and in practice annuls the sense of his other statement, viz. that torture may be used as a means of conjecture, with which it substantially disagrees.

As in other cases, and unlike Beccaria, Hobbes does not take up an explicitly humanitarian attitude against torture. In his thinking there is, however, the germ or nucleus of the utilitarian attitude to torture, and in this case too, such an attitude is based on the motive of self-preservation, which is, as Strauss rightly points out, the real key to Hobbes's 'liberalism.'

Once again, the comparison with Beccaria seems fruitful and significant. With regard also to torture, Hobbes's thought con­tains the premises which await future development in the direction of a liberalising penal reform. This in fact took place, even if it did not do so as a result of H{)bbes's thought.

7. CoNCLUSION As I indicated at the beginning, Hobbes's theory of punish­

ment has not received overmuch attention from scholars . 79

<s Beccaria, ibid., p. 218. • 79 See, however, Calamandrei's note in Beccaria, Dei delitti e delle pene, XV, ed.

cit., pp. 243-244, where Hobbes is mentioned and compared with Beccaria : 'Beccaria, rejecting the idea of punishment as a retribution and atonement(punitur quia ptccatum), takes up and develops Hobbes's and Helvetius's utilitarian conception that punish­ment is justified only as a means of protection and as a social deterrent (punitur ne peccetur). See also R. Peters, Hobbes, Pelican Books, 1956, p. 187, R. Capitant, f!obbes et I'Etat totaltktire cit., p. 60, G. Solari, Kant e Ia dottrina penale della retribuzione, ctt., p . 35, B. Donat!, II rispetto della Iegge dinanzi a! principio di autorita (Critic a alia Filosofia civile di Hobbes), Athenaeum, Rome, 1919, pp. 28-29 and G. Righi, Intorno a/ pensiero politico di Hobbn, in 'Rivista internazionale di filosofia del diritto', 1929, pp. 633-634.

H O B B E S ' S T H E O R Y O F P U N I S H M E N T 297

Indeed the great controversies about the basic problems of criminal law, as seen de jure condendo, have raged without any reference to Hobbes's thought.

More particularly, the development of progressive theories in the field of theory of punishment, as well as the effecting of concrete penal reforms have always taken place without any reference to Hobbes. This is a matter of historical fact, and is probably connected with the ill-fame that Hobbes suffered for so long among scholars.

It must be emphasised that in making a comparison between Hobbes and writers like Bentham and Beccaria, who were among the greatest advocates of penal reform, it has not been my intention to write as a historian seeking to discover what in­fluence Hobbes's thought may have had on the thought of other writers on punishment. I have aimed only at making a simple comparison between Hobbes's ideas and those of the other writers in order to see what conclusions might thence be drawn about the nature of Hobbes's own thought; and I am persuaded that his attachment to the principle of the certitude of the law, his conception of the purpose and function of punishment and his attitude to the death penalty and torture do in fact constitute the basic premises for a liberal theory of criminal law.

Beyond this, however, I do not wish to go. Before coming to any more general conclusions as to Hobbes's liberalism or absolut­ism, a far more exhaustive study of his whole legal and political philosophy would be needed. But on this limited aspect of the theory of punishment, it seems clear enough what concl�sions should be drawn. Kant, for instance, is a philosopher cons1dered representative of liberalism. Yet if we think of Kant's conception of punishment as retribution, and of his unfavourable attitude towards the 'sentimental humanitarianism' of Beccaria, 80 and then compare this with Hobbes, there seems little doubt which of the two thinkers is the more liberal where this problem is concerned.

8° Kant, Metaphysische Anfangsgrtinde der Rechtslehre, Reimer, Berlin, 1907, Part II, Sect. 1 . For a discussion of Kant's criticism of Beccaria and a defence of the latter, see R, Mondolfo, Beccaria c Kant in 'Rivista internazionale di filosofia del diritto,' 1925, pp. 617-619, and Cesare .Beccaria cit., pp. 57-66.