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The
Social Contract
by Jean Jacques Rousseau
Man is born free; and everywhere he is in
chains. One thinks himself the master of others,
and still remains a greater slave than they. How
did this change come about? I do not know. What can
make it legitimate? That question I think I can
answer.
If I took into account only force, and the
effects derived from it, I should say: 'As long as
a people is compelled to obey, and obeys, it does
well; as soon as it can shake off the yoke, and
shakes it off, it does still better; for, regaining
its liberty by the same right as took it away,
either it is justified in resuming it, or there was
no justification for those who took it away.' But
the social order is a sacred right which is the
basis of all other rights....
That We
Must Always Go Back to a First
Convention
Even if I granted all that I have been refuting,
the friends of despotism would be no better off.
There will always be a great difference between
subduing a multitude and ruling a society. Even if
scattered individuals were successively enslaved by
one man, however numerous they might be, I still
see no more than a master and his slaves, and
certainly not a people and its ruler; I see what
may be termed an aggregation, but not an
association; there is as yet neither public good
nor body politic. The man in question, even if he
has enslaved half the world, is still only an
individual; his interest, apart from that of
others, is still a purely private interest. If this
same man comes to die, his empire, after him,
remains scattered and without unity, as an oak
falls and dissolves into a heap of ashes when the
fire has consumed it.
A people, says Grotius, can give itself to a
king. Then, according to Grotius, a people is a
people before it gives itself. The gift itself is a
civil act, and implies public deliberation. It
would be better, before examining the act by which
a people gives itself to a king, to examine that by
which it has become a people; for this act, being
necessarily prior to the other, is the true
foundation of society.
Indeed, if there were no prior convention,
where, unless the election were unanimous, would be
the obligation on the minority to submit to the
choice of the majority? How have a hundred men who
wish for a master the right to vote on behalf of
ten who do not? The law of majority voting is
itself something established by convention, and
presupposes unanimity, on one occasion at
least.
The
Social Contract
I suppose men to have reached the point at which
the obstacles in the way of their preservation in
the state of nature show their power of resistance
to be greater than the resources at the disposal of
each individual for his maintenance in that state.
That primitive condition can then subsist no
longer; and the human race would perish unless it
changed its manner of existence.
But, as men cannot engender new forces, but only
unite and direct existing ones, they have no other
means of preserving themselves than the formation,
by aggregation, of a sum of forces great enough to
overcome the resistance. These they have to bring
into play by means of a single motive power, and
cause to act in concert.
This sum of forces can arise only where several
persons come together: but, as the force and
liberty of each man are the chief instruments of
his self-preservation, how can he pledge them
without harming his own interests, and neglecting
the care he owes to himself? This difficulty, in
its bearing on my present subject, may be stated in
the following terms:
"The problem is to find a form of association
which will defend and protect with the whole common
force the person and goods of each associate, and
in which each, while uniting himself with all, may
still obey himself alone, and remain as free as
before." This is the fundamental problem of which
the Social Contract provides the solution.
The clauses of this contract are so determined
by the nature of the act that the slightest
modification would make them vain and ineffective;
so that, although they have perhaps never been
formally set forth, they are everywhere the same
and everywhere tacitly admitted and recognized,
until, on the violation of the social compact, each
regains his original rights and resumes his natural
liberty, while losing the conventional liberty in
favor of which he renounced it.
These clauses, properly understood, may be
reduced to one -- the total alienation of each
associate, together with all his rights, to the
whole community; for, in the first place, as each
gives himself absolutely, the conditions are the
same for all; and, this being so, no one has any
interest in making them burdensome to others.
Moreover, the alienation being without reserve,
the union is as perfect as it can be, and no
associate has anything more to demand: for, if the
individuals retained certain rights, as there would
be no common superior to decide between them and
the public, each, being on one point his own judge,
would ask to be so on all; the state of nature
would thus continue, and the association would
necessarily become inoperative or tyrannical.
Finally, each man, in giving himself to all,
gives himself to nobody; and as there is no
associate over which he does not acquire the same
right as he yields others over himself, he gains an
equivalent for everything he loses, and an increase
of force for the preservation of what he has.
If then we discard from the social compact what
is not of its essence, we shall find that it
reduces itself to the following terms:
"Each of us puts his person and all his power
in common under the supreme direction of the
general will, and, in our corporate capacity, we
receive each member as an indivisible part of the
whole."
At once, in place of the individual personality
of each contracting party, this act of association
creates a moral and collective body, composed of as
many members as the assembly contains voters, and
receiving from this act its unity, its common
identity, its life, and its will. This public
person, so formed by the union of all other
persons, formerly took the name of city,*
and now takes that of Republic or body
politic; it is called by its members
State when passive, Sovereign when
active, and Power when compared with others
like itself. Those who are associated in it take
collectively the name of people, and
severally are called citizens, as sharing in
the sovereign power, and subjects, as being
under the laws of the State. But these terms are
often confused and taken one for another: it is
enough to know how to distinguish them when they
are being used with precision.
[* The real meaning of this word has been
almost wholly lost in modern times; most people
mistake a town for a city, and a townsman for a
citizen. They do not know that houses make a town,
but citizens a city. The same mistake long ago cost
the Carthaginians dear. I have never read of the
title of citizens being given to the
subjects of any prince, not even the ancient
Macedonians or the English of today, though they
are nearer liberty than any one else. The French
alone everywhere familiarly adopt the name of
citizens, because, as can be seen from their
dictionaries, they have no idea of its meaning;
otherwise they would be guilty in usurping it, of
the crime of lese-majeste: among them, the
name expresses a virtue, and not a right. When
Bodin spoke of our citizens and townsmen, he fell
into a bad blunder in taking the one class for the
other. M. d'Alembert has avoided the error, and, in
his article on Geneva, has clearly
distinguished the four orders of men (or, even
five, counting mere foreigners) who dwell in our
town, of which two only compose the Republic. No
other French writer, to my knowledge, has
understood the real meaning of the word
citizen.]
The
Sovereign
This formula shows us that the act of
association comprises a mutual undertaking between
the public and the individuals, and that each
individual, in making a contract, as we may say,
with himself, is bound in a double capacity; as a
member of the Sovereign he is bound to the
individuals, and as a member of the State to the
Sovereign. But the maxim of civil right, that no
one is bound by undertakings made to himself, does
not apply in this case; for there is a great
difference between incurring an obligation to
yourself and incurring one to a whole of which you
form a part.
Attention must further be called to the fact
that public deliberation, while competent to bind
all the subjects to the Sovereign, because of the
two different capacities in which each of them may
be regarded, cannot, for the opposite reason, bind
the Sovereign to itself; and that it is
consequently against the nature of the body politic
for the Sovereign to impose on itself a law which
it cannot infringe. Being able to regard itself in
only one capacity, it is in the position of an
individual who makes a contract with himself; and
this makes it clear that there neither is nor can
be any kind of fundamental law binding on the body
of the people -- not even the social contract
itself. This does not mean that the body politic
cannot enter into undertakings with others,
provided the contract is not infringed by them; for
in relation to what is external to it, it becomes a
simple being, an individual.
But the body politic or the Sovereign, drawing
its being wholly from the sanctity of the contract,
can never bind itself, even to an outsider, to do
anything derogatory to the original act, for
instance, to alienate any part of itself, or to
submit to another Sovereign. Violation of the act
by which it exists would be self-annihilation; and
that which is itself nothing can create
nothing.
As soon as this multitude is so united in one
body, it is impossible to offend against one of the
members without attacking the body, and still more
to offend against the body without the members
resenting it. Duty and interest therefore equally
oblige the two contracting parties to give each
other help; and the same men should seek to
combine, in their double capacity, all the
advantages dependent upon that capacity.
Again, the Sovereign, being formed wholly of the
individuals who compose it, neither has nor can
have any interest contrary to theirs; and
consequently the sovereign power need give no
guarantee to its subjects, because it is impossible
for the body to wish to hurt all its members. We
shall also see later on that it cannot hurt any in
particular. The Sovereign, merely by virtue of what
it is, is always what it should be.
This, however, is not the case with the relation
of the subjects to the Sovereign, which, despite
the common interest would have no security that
they would fulfil their undertakings, unless it
found means to assure itself of their fidelity.
In fact, each individual, as a man, may have a
particular will contrary or dissimilar to the
general will which he has as a citizen. His
particular interest may speak to him quite
differently from the common interest: his absolute
and naturally independent existence may make him
look upon what he owes to the common cause as a
gratuitous contribution, the loss of which will do
less harm to others than the payment of it is
burdensome to himself; and, regarding the moral
person which constitutes the State as a persona
ficta, because not a man, he may wish to enjoy
the rights of citizenship without being ready to
fulfil the duties of a subject. The continuance of
such an injustice could not but prove the undoing
of the body politic.
In order then that the social compact may not be
an empty formula, it tacitly includes the
undertaking, which alone can give force to the
rest, that whoever refuses to obey the general will
shall be compelled to do so by the whole body. This
means nothing less than that he will be forced to
be free; for this is the condition which, by giving
each citizen to his country, secures him against
all personal dependence. In this lies the key to
the working of the political machine; this alone
legitimizes civil undertakings, which, without it,
would be absurd, tyrannical, and liable to the most
frightful abuses.
The
Civil State
The passage from the state of nature to the
civil state produces a very remarkable change in
man, by substituting justice for instinct in his
conduct, and giving his actions the morality they
had formerly lacked. Then only, when the voice of
duty takes the place of physical impulses and right
of appetite, does man, who so far had considered
only himself, find that he is forced to act on
different principles, and to consult his reason
before listening to his inclinations. Although, in
this state, he deprives himself of some advantages
which he got from nature, he gains in return others
so great, his faculties are so stimulated and
developed, his ideas so extended, his feelings so
ennobled, and his whole soul so uplifted, that, did
not the abuses of this new condition often degrade
him below that which he left, he would be bound to
bless continually the happy moment which took him
from it forever, and, instead of a stupid and
unimaginative animal, made him an intelligent being
and a man.
Let us draw up the whole account in terms easily
commensurable. What man loses by the social
contract is his natural liberty and an unlimited
right to everything he tries to get and succeeds in
getting; what he gains is civil liberty and the
proprietorship of all he possesses. If we are to
avoid mistake in weighing one against the other, we
must clearly distinguish natural liberty, which is
bounded only by the strength of the individual,
from civil liberty, which is limited by the general
will; and possession, which is merely the effect of
force or the right of the first occupier, from
property, which can be founded only on a positive
title.
We might, over and above all this, add, to what
man acquires in the civil state, moral liberty,
which alone makes him truly master of himself; for
the mere impulse of appetite is slavery, while
obedience to a law which we prescribe to ourselves
is liberty. But I have already said too much on
this head, and the philosophical meaning of the
word liberty does not now concern us.
Excerpted from The Social
Contract, by Jean Jacques Rousseau.
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The
Social Contract, by Jean Jacques
Rousseau
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