Introduction
Hobbes,
as has often been repeated, offers a pessimistic view of human beings and of
society, and proposes an authoritarian and security‑oriented response. One
should instead regard human beings as capable of solidarity in order to defend
a “democratic” society. Yet even if human beings are indeed capable of mutual
aid, they are at the same time embedded in social structures that place them in
competition with one another; and even if a “democratic” society is possible,
it cannot dispense with regulation and safeguards. In other words, Hobbes is
perhaps not absolutely incompatible with a progressive approach to politics.
The
purpose of the Leviathan is to defend the State. But it seems to me that
Hobbes’s analysis applies equally to other institutions. His central idea is
that natural coordination among human beings is insufficient, and that it is
necessary to construct an artificial structure in order to guarantee justice.
Ultimately, Hobbes contributes to social ontology and to the problem of the
binding force that unites individuals. His solution rests on the fear of
violence and on each person’s self‑interested calculation.
What
is also remarkable in the Leviathan is its systematic dimension. As in Plato’s Republic
or Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, Hobbes attempts to provide a
synthesis of the different branches of philosophy, in particular epistemology
and political philosophy. Contemporary philosophy has generally turned away
from this kind of overarching project, preferring to concentrate on specific
issues in epistemology, ethics, or aesthetics. It is indeed legitimate, for the
sake of precision, to focus on particular questions. But this does not, in my
view, require us to forbid ourselves from zooming out in order to study the
articulation of large domains. One can be just as rigorous in cartography at
the scale of a world map as at the municipal level, just as one can analyze the
anatomy of an animal as well as the structure of a cell.
What
may seem particularly timely in Hobbes, on the other hand, is his critique of
jargon and of the misuse of language, which evokes the positions of Carnap or
Ryle. Hobbes’s nominalist approach leads him to treat cognitive processes in
linguistic form, avoiding the inflation of psychological terms that one finds
in part of modern philosophy.
The
synthesis of the Leviathan we now propose should allow us to recontextualize
this work in light of our own areas of interest, as we have just outlined in
the introduction. The questions that will arise as we follow the structure of
the book will be: How are physicalism, empiricism, and nominalism articulated
in the Leviathan? Why does human nature, as Hobbes conceives it, lead us to
oppose one another? What exactly is the political solution proposed by Hobbes?
I. True Philosophy
Knowledge
begins with sensation, which is caused by the object. Sensations are the
effects produced by the object upon our senses (“Part. I, Ch. 1, Of sense”).
Then this sensation, as an effect on us of the object, persists even when the
cause has ceased to act and the object is absent (“Ch. 2, Of imagination”).
What remains is an image that represents the object and its properties in its
absence. This image is stored and becomes memory. “Imagination and memory are
but one thing, which for divers considerations hath divers name.” There is
continuity between imagination and memory. These faculties are less independent
modules than different ways of considering the processing of sensory data. The
distinction thus established between physical object, sensation, and mnemonic
image raises the following skeptical problems: To what extent does sensation
provide us with valid knowledge of objects? To what extent is the mnemonic
image capable of faithfully preserving sensory information?
But
Hobbes does not seem to pursue these questions in depth. He deals instead with
the relations between representations in what he calls mental discourse (“Ch.
3, Of the consequence or train of imaginations”). The organization of this
mental discourse, according to relations of causes and effects, is governed by
our desires and our fears. “From desire, ariseth the thought of some means we
have seen produce the like of that which we aim at.” The experience we have of
things, thus fixed within mental discourse, leads us to improve our conduct:
“by how much one man has more experience of things past, than another, by so
much also he is more prudent, and his expectations the seldomer fail him.” With
experience, we know in advance what will be a source of pleasure or of pain.
The
mechanism of the cognitive faculties described so far is common to human beings
and other animals. The distinction appears only with verbal discourse as an
auxiliary to mental discourse. Language serves to fix representations, to
transmit them to others, and to add to them the expression of our will. There
are also aesthetic and playful uses intended to produce pleasure. However,
abuses are also possible, when one uses incorrect expressions, or lies, or
seeks to wound by means of speech (“Ch. 4, Of speech”).
In
addition to the functions of language, Hobbes sets out the types of words he
uses: proper names, common names, names of material things, of their qualities,
of the impressions they produce in us, and names of names or of discourse (e.g.
“general,” “universal,” “special,” “equivocal,” “affirmation,” “interrogation,”
“command,” “narration,” “syllogism,” “sermon,” “oration”). With this typology,
one should be able to detect category mistakes and false problems that arise
from misuse of names: “therefore of absurd and false affirmations, in case they
be universal, there can be no understanding; though many think they understand
them, when they do but repeat the words softly, or con them in their mind.”
A
particularly important linguistic function is then presented: calculation,
which is carried out on the basis of clear concepts. Here Hobbes takes as a
model of scientific knowledge the hypothetico‑deductive model of inference from
an axiomatic definition (“Ch. 5, Of Reason and science”). Truth depends on the
accuracy of the order of words among themselves. Logical inference seems
equivalent to causal determinism (one could translate it as counterfactual
dependence, as in “no fire, no smoke”). The question of the relation between
language and states of affairs does not seem to be raised. “A man… can by words
reduce the consequences he finds to general rules, called theorems, or
aphorism; that is, he can reason, or reckon, not only in number, but in all other
things, whereof one may be added unto, or subtracted from another.” Logical‑mathematical
rigor constitutes the method that allows one to avoid confusions and
absurdities. It is disinterested, in that it follows the objective order of
things and not that of subjective preferences.
Thus
conceived, science belongs to an art, a know‑how through which one masters
syntax on the basis of definitions. “The first cause of absurd conclusions I
ascribe to the want of method; in that they begin not their ratiocination from
definitions; that is, from settled significations of their words; as if they
could cast account, without knowing the value of the numeral words, one, two
and three.” The elimination of absurdities concerns the regulated use of
language. As for the question of error, which Hobbes distinguishes from
absurdity, it pertains to experience and is combated by prudence. Non‑human
animals, like human beings, commit errors when they act imprudently or lack
experience. But only human beings formulate absurdities when they do not master
the art of reasoning. One may nevertheless wonder whether the separation is
really so clear between the two. Does reasoning not require experience and
prudence? And does prudent action not benefit from the art of reasoning?
The
distinction between empirical errors and logical absurdities leads Hobbes to
separate history, as knowledge of events based on sensation and memory, from
science (or philosophy), founded on logical demonstration. Now thanks to
science, when we know the dependence of one fact upon another, we are able
technically to master phenomena: “when we see how any thing comes about, upon
what causes, and by what manner; when the like causes come into our power, we
see how to make it produce the like effect.”
In
that case, when we say that knowledge of history allows us to avoid repeating
the errors of the past, are we mistaken about the domain? If history is not a
science, how could it guide our practice? For this to be possible, past events
would have to be, at the same time, facts capable of recurring in the manner of
uniform natural phenomena—something that does not seem entirely excluded.
Hobbes
specifies what can be the object of scientific study through a classification
of the sciences. There is first a quantitative philosophy of nature
(metaphysics, mathematics, cosmography, and mechanics), then a qualitative one
(sciography, astrology, what we would today call “physics”, optics, music,
ethics, what we would call “linguistics”), and finally civil philosophy
concerning rights and duties.
Hobbes
bases science on the generation of the properties of things through reasoning.
As we have seen, it possesses a utilitarian dimension. He sees continuity
between mathematical reasoning, scientific propositions, and technical
applications: “By philosophy is understood ‘the knowledge acquired by
reasoning, from the manner of the generation of any thing, to the properties;
or from the properties, to some possible way of generation of the same; to the
end to be able to produce, as far as matter, and humane force permit, such
effects, as humane life requireth’” (“Chap. 46, Of darkness from vain
philosophy, and fabulous traditions”).
The
starting point of science, as we have also seen, is the mastered use of speech,
without which there would be no reasoning. For a correct and rigorous use of
reason to be possible, appropriate social conditions are required, Hobbes tells
us. Philosophy develops thanks to the leisure time available, which only the
State can guarantee. “Leasure is the mother of philosophy; and commonwealth,
the mother of peace, and leasure.”
Vain philosophy is that which does not follow the geometrical method and which uses empty words. True philosophy, by contrast, defines its concepts, explains them, and establishes their meaning. Hobbes rejects jargon whose sense is confused, with terms inherited from scholasticism such as “essence,” “substantial form,” or “incorporeal.” For example, the word “being,” which indicates the consequence of a term, is improperly taken as the name of a thing. Likewise, the word “soul” is treated as if it designated something located in a particular place. Other words are incomprehensible, and this unintelligibility conceals the truth or discourages its pursuit. Instead of false and incompetent philosophy, true philosophy must rely on knowledge of physical causes.
II. Knowledge and Action
We
have just seen what, for Hobbes, are the principles of knowledge and the origin
of errors and absurdities. Let us now turn to the theme of action—that is, to
voluntary motions whose origin lies in sensation, imagination, and memory (“Ch.
6, Of the interior beginnings of voluntary motions; commonly called the
passions; and the speeches by which they are expressed”). The beginning of an
action, which is not yet visible, is effort. “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. This endeavour, when it
is towards something which causes it, is called appetite, or desire… and when
the endeavour is fromward something, it is generally called aversion.” The
effort directed toward what is desired is caused by something pleasant, whereas
the effort in the opposite direction is caused by what is painful and feared.
Hobbes
distinguishes two levels of affects: the pleasure and pain of the senses, and
the joy and sadness of the mind. He provides a long list of variations of these
simple passions and indicates their visible signs: “The best signs of passions
present, are either in the countenance, motions of the body, actions, and ends,
aims, which we otherwise know the man to have.” He then shows that deliberation
designates the hesitation arising from several contradictory passions: “When in
the mind of man, appetites, and aversions, hopes, and fears, concerning one and
the same thing, arise alternately… the whole sum of desires, aversions, hopes
and fears continued till the thing be either done, or thought impossible, is
that we call deliberation.” The last appetite or the last aversion that
prevails just before action is the will. “Will therefore is the last appetite
in deliberating.”
Hobbes
compares the will to judgment (or resolution, the final decision in discourse),
which is the last opinion in inquiry and reflection. “As the whole chain of
appetites alternate, in the question if good, or bad, is called deliberation;
so the whole chain of opinions alternate, in the question of true, or false, is
called doubt” (“Ch. 7, Of the ends, or resolutions of discourse”). If the
opinions in question come from someone’s testimony, one must note in this case
that what is credible or doubtful concerns both the person and what he says:
“In belief are two opinions; one of the saying of the man; the other his
virtue.”
Hobbes
then turns to intellectual virtues. Intelligence depends on the liveliness of
imagination and on the constant orientation of thought toward a goal.
Discernment is the capacity to perceive differences and resemblances (“Ch. 8,
Of the virtues commonly called intellectual; and their contrary defects”). As
for intellectual vices, they are not necessarily the consequence of passions.
On the contrary, intelligence presupposes passion insofar as it is a desire for
power. “To have no desire is to be dead: so to have weak passions, is dullness;
and to have passions indifferently for everything, giddiness, and distraction;
and to have stronger and more vehement passions for anything, than is
ordinarily seen in others, is that which men call madness.” It is therefore not
passion in general that is harmful to intelligence, but certain passions, when
they are inconsistent or too strong.
Hobbes also addresses the question of religious faith. According to him, it arises from fear of the future and of the invisible, and from the search for origins. “When there is nothing to be seen, there is nothing to accuse, either of their good, or evil fortune, but some power, or agent invisible” (“Ch. 12, Of religion”). Divination, in pagan religion, bears witness to this tendency to ward off fear of the future. It is merely the supernatural modality of a natural attitude consisting in wanting to predict the future based on past experience. For Hobbes, institutional religion is above all a factor of peace, altruism, and obedience, rather than discord. As for the ritual dimension of religion, insofar as it makes possible to neglect one’s duties, it values personal responsibility, which discourages blaming others or rebelling.
III. The Complicated Collective
To
return more specifically to action, Hobbes is interested in our power, our
dispositions, our means of acting in the future within the social field—that
is, in our social capital. This includes our intellectual faculties, our
financial means, our relationships, our luck, our reputation, our physical
appearance, our merit, our titles, our status, our abilities, etc. (“Ch. 10, Of
power, worth, dignity, honour, and worthiness”). Individual powers can then
aggregate to form a collective power, particularly in the unity of the state:
“The greatest of human powers, is that which is compounded of the powers of
most men, united by consent, in one person, natural, or civil, that has the use
of all their powers depending on his will; such as is the power of a commonwealth.”
But Hobbes also identifies a capacity for aggregation at the pre‑state level
through manners: “By manners, I mean… those qualities of mankind, that concern
their living together in peace, and unity” (“Ch. 11, Of the difference of
manners”).
However,
the union of human beings is endangered by competition among them for various
goods such as wealth, honor, command, and so on. (Let us dispel an ambiguity
here. If A desires x and B desires x, A and B desire the same object x.
But they do not have the same desire. For A desires x for himself, and B
desires x for himself.) The fear of death and of injury (that is, the desire
not to die or be wounded) and the pursuit of comfort nevertheless lead human
beings to submit to a common power, as we shall see when discussing the State.
Moreover, the search for praise and the fear of blame lead individuals to
display virtue. Still, human beings have various inclinations that are negative
and antisocial passions, such as vanity, ambition, irresolution, ignorance,
credulity, and so forth. And one can hardly rely on custom to correct them:
“Ignorance of the causes, and original constitution of right, equity, law, and
justice, disposeth a man to make custom and example the rule of his action.”
What
constitutes the state of nature for Hobbes is the fact that each person,
whatever his capacities, represents an equal threat to others. Whatever our
strength, we are all equally capable of harming or even killing our neighbor:
“The weakest has strength enough to kill the strongest, either by secret
machination, or by confederacy with others, that are in the same danger with
himself” (“Ch. XIII, Of the natural condition of mankind as concerning their
felicity, and misery”).
Discord and rivalry arise, as we have said, from the fact that we desire the same things and do not have the same desires; complementarity among individuals and their cooperation therefore does not come naturally. A superior power will be necessary to contain conflict. War, even if intermittent, remains a perpetual threat (Hobbes compares it to bad weather, and we may also think of illness, which sometimes makes us suffer and at other times seems to disappear). What indicates this mutual distrust is the observation of everyday practices, such as the use of locks or the carrying of weapons when traveling: “What opinion he has of his fellow-subjects, when he rides armed; of his fellow citizens, when he locks his doors; and of his children, and servants, when he locks his chest.
IV. Contract and State
The
fear of death and the pursuit of comfort therefore lead human beings to seek
peace, and we shall see that the means to achieve it is the social contract and
its implementation by the sovereign. Hobbes then proposes two distinct notions:
natural right, which is the freedom to defend one’s life by any means, and
natural law, which is the obligation to maintain peace. These two principles
bear an asymmetrical relation. Peace allows each person to preserve his life.
But it is impossible if each, in order to defend his life, must attack others.
The best means in this case is the mutual renunciation of natural right in
order to guarantee respect for natural law: “that a man be willing, when others
are so too, as far-forth, as for peace, and defence of himself he shall think
it necessary, to lay down this right to all things; and be contented with so
much liberty against other men, as he would allow other men against himself”
(“Ch. 14, Of the first and second natural laws, and of contracts”).
This
mutual renunciation of natural right is called a “contract.” It consists only
of signs and has no force of its own. What can be effective is solely the fear
of the consequences of breaking the contract, or the vanity of showing that one
can keep one’s commitment. To ensure that two contracting parties honor their
commitments, what is needed above all is a power above them capable of
enforcing performance: “If there be a common power set over them both, with
right and force sufficient to compel performance, it is not void.” For the
social contract to be honored, the State must ensure its enforcement, which
guarantees the application of justice: “Before the names of just, and unjust
can have place, there must be some coercive power, to compel men equally to the
performance of their covenants, by the terror of some punishment, greater than
the benefit they expect by the breach of their covenant” (“Ch. 15, Of other
laws of nature”).
The
simplest expression of the law of nature that the State is charged with
enforcing is the golden rule: do not do to another what you would not want done
to yourself. This natural law is what the social contract expresses as a
rational agreement under ideal conditions. The contract represents a stable
equilibrium resulting from mutual commitment in a cooperative game. The players
have more to gain by alienating their power than by exercising it against one
another, just as in the prisoner’s dilemma it is preferable that neither
prisoner confess rather than both confess or only one of them.
Let
us clarify this comparison between the social contract and the prisoner’s
dilemma. According to the latter, two prisoners have an interest in not
confessing to having participated in a robbery if they are presented with the
following rule: either no one confesses and no one is punished; or both confess
and each receives a five‑year prison sentence; or only one confesses and is not
punished, while the one who does not confess receives a ten‑year sentence. In
the case of the social contract, two contracting parties have an interest in
renouncing the use of violence if the rule is as follows: either no one uses
violence and each lives in peace; or both use violence and only the stronger
survives; or only one uses violence and the one who refuses it perishes.
To
define the nature of the State, Hobbes turns to a reflection on the notion of
representation, using the theatrical model of the author being represented by
the actor (“Ch. 16, Of persons, authors and things personated”). The author
delegates his power to the actor (we will not complicate this image here by
reflecting on the place of the fictional character embodied by the actor in
this relation, though one could say that the fictional character represents
certain thoughts of the author, and that the actor represents the character
according to his own interpretation).
Hobbes
then makes a second comparison between the author and the owner: “That which in
speaking of goods and possessions, is called an owner… speaking of actions, is
called author.” One may suppose that what would be analogous in this case to
the actor would be the user—for example, the captain of a merchant ship who
serves a shipowner. But the actor can also represent a multitude, which is the
case of the sovereign if he represents the people. “A multitude of men, are
made one person, when they are by one man, or one person, represented; so that
it be done with the consent of every one of that multitude in particular.” Thus
sovereignty is assimilated to a process of representation, of personification
of the people. The function of the State will be to realize by this means the
citizens’ desire for security and to bring them out of the state of war (“Ch.
17, Of the causes, generation, and definition of a commonwealth”).
The
process through which state representation is formed is a commitment, an
implicit promise of common alienation to authority: “As if every man should say
to every man, ‘I authorize and give up my right of governing myself, to this
man, or this assembly of men, on this condition, that thou give up thy right to
him, and authorize all his actions in like manner.’” Thus the State, under
these conditions, is not an obstacle to freedom, for human beings submit to it
voluntarily. What opposes freedom is an external constraint, for example when
an obstacle prevents us from moving forward (when the obstacle is internal to
the agent, we speak instead of “impotence,” as when one loses one’s voice)
(“Ch. 21, Of the liberty of subjects”).
If freedom requires the absence of obstacles, it does not nevertheless require the disappearance of all framework and all context. Lightening a boat that is about to sink, or paying one’s debts out of fear of reprisals, does not mean lacking freedom. In other words, freedom is compatible with necessity. For example, a river flows freely even though the riverbed channels its current. Just as one channels a river, human beings, in order to maintain peace and preserve themselves, have fabricated the artificial creature of the State, whose chains are less shackles than safeguards. “As men, for the attaining of peace, and conservation of themselves thereby, have made an artificial man, which we call a commonwealth, so also have they made artificial chains, 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.” As long as the sovereign protects his subjects, they owe him obedience: “the obligation of subjects to sovereign, is understood to last as long, and no longer, than the power lasteth, by which he is able to protect them.” In other words, the State loses its legitimacy if it ceases to protect its subjects.
V. The megamachine
Hobbes
used the image of the actor to illustrate how the sovereign represents the
people. Now it is the image of a mechanical animal that serves to depict the
State. “Having spoken of the generation, form, and power of a commonwealth, I
am in order to speak next of the parts thereof. And first of systems, which
resemble the similar parts, or muscles of a body natural” (“Ch. 22, Of systems
subject, political, and private”). Its organs are the administrations with
their ministers. Its food is land and raw materials. Its digestion is the
technical transformation of nature. Its blood is money. Its children are its
colonies. Its head is composed of the counselors and the laws that direct
action (“Ch. 25, On counsel”). Good counsel rests on experience, expertise, and
argumentative clarity. A good decision rests on the quality of the counsel.
The
fundamental law is the natural law commanding one not to do to another what one
would not want to suffer oneself (“Ch. 26, Of civil laws”). Beyond this law,
the State upholds distributive and penal laws. “Of human positive laws, some
are distributive, some penal. Distributive are those that determine the rights
of the subjects, declaring to every man what it is, by which he acquireth and
holdeth a propriety in lands, or goods, and a right or liberty of action: and
these speak to all the subjects. Penal are those which declare which penalty
shall be inflicted on those that violate the law.” These positive laws must be
interpreted by qualified judges. “For it is not the letter, but the intendment,
or meaning, that is to say, the authentic interpretation of the law (which is
the sense of the legislator), in which the nature of the law consisteth.”
If
right defines the liberties one retains from natural right, civil law is what
obliges one to abandon certain aspects of the law of nature. “Nature gave a
right to every man to secure himself by his own strength, and to invade a
suspected neighbour, by way of prevention: but the civil law takes away that
liberty, in all cases where the protection of law may be stayed for.” Penal law
establishes the punishments associated with crime in order to prevent the
arbitrariness of vengeance. “Neither private revenges, nor injuries of private
men, can properly be styled punishment; because they proceed not from public
authority” (“Ch. 28, Of punishments and rewards”).
Punishments
are defined with regard to future good: “All evil which is inflicted without
intention, or possibility of disposing the delinquent, or, by his example,
other men, to obey the laws, is not punishment; but an act of hostility.”
Salary is a reward as well as a contract. As for a gift, it is a favor granted
to someone. “Reward, is either of gift, or by contract. When by contract, it is
called salary, and wages; which is benefit due for service performed, or
promised. When of gift, it is benefit proceeding from the grace of them that
bestow it, to encourage, or enable men to do them service.”
The
State is the necessary framework for the application of law. But it is not
invincible. The causes of its dissolution are the imperfection of its
institutions, the influence of seditious doctrines, the inappropriate imitation
of neighboring States, the mixed nature of government (the separation of
powers), lack of money, concentration of monopolies, the excessive size of
cities, and so on (“Ch. 29, Of those things that weaken, or tend to the
dissolution of a commonwealth”).
Nevertheless,
the State must maintain itself in order to ensure peace and the security of its
subjects. It is the sovereign’s charge to uphold this objective and to meet it
through instruction and the application of law (“Ch. 30, Of the office of the
sovereign representative”). Finally, if the life of the State rests on culture
as the fruit of labor, it also includes worship, which seeks to obtain results
through prayer, offerings, and sacrifices (“Ch. 31, Of the kingdom of God by
nature”).
Conclusion
The
first part of this text reconstructs the main lines of Hobbes’s empiricist
epistemology in the Leviathan. Sensation is the source of all knowledge.
Nevertheless, the use of speech introduces another principle, that of
deduction. It seemed to us that the articulation between the empirical and the
linguistic is more presupposed than demonstrated by the author (unless a longer
and more detailed study could bring out this foundation in his writings).
Still, the link does exist, since calculation leads to technical applications.
Hobbes insists on the necessity of method to eliminate the absurdities produced
by a careless use of language.
Next,
Hobbes explains human action through the mechanism of pleasure and pain and of
the corresponding desire and fear. He draws a parallel between the chain of
passions and that of beliefs, and their respective results: will for action and
judgment for knowledge. He then shows the confusion that results from the
interaction between individuals and the state of conflict arising from the
confrontation of divergent points of view.
This
observation ultimately justifies the establishment of arbitration and
regulation by a superior authority. The social contract and its application by
the sovereign respond to the fear of death and the desire for peace common to
human beings. State power, insofar as it represents and realizes the will of
the citizens, does not oppose their freedom. Rather, it establishes its
framework. Finally, Hobbes describes the State as a giant automaton and details
its composition, its functions, and its weaknesses.
What
is remarkable in the Leviathan is the attempt to articulate, in a fairly
concise manner, knowledge and action, as well as the individual and the
collective. Likewise, one sees an attempt to articulate the empirical world and
the logical world, even if it seems to us that the connection between the two
remains to be defined (a task to which part of contemporary philosophy still
devotes itself). The important intuition, present in philosophy from Socrates
to the present and particularly explicit in Hobbes’s nominalism, is that
reflection on language offers a key to understanding the world (even if this
principle is sometimes abandoned in the history of philosophy in favor of
speculations on Spirit, Understanding, Reason—entities that can obscure the
linguistic stakes). At the empirical level, Hobbes provides a description of
psychology that intertwines sensible impulse and voluntary motion. Sensibility
acts as the motor of conscious and active behavior. But the detour through
language in the human animal allows, notably through calculation, access to a
certain objectivity and thus a detachment from one’s individual point of view.
However,
human capacities within society hinder one another. The more an individual
gains power within the social fabric, the more he enters into competition with
other individuals. In other words, human interactions do not directly allow for
harmonious cooperation. The elaboration of the political artifact does not
constitute a radical rupture with nature, but rather a form of resolution,
enabling the passage from nature to morality and then to politics. The
agonistic state of nature described by Hobbes corresponds to a pessimistic
(others will say “realistic”) conception of society without a State, against
which the State constitutes a remedy. It is moreover this natural origin of the
political artifice that explains its interested character. The State responds
to a consequentialist and functionalist logic: guaranteeing peace. To do so,
one must think of society not as a natural community but as the invention of an
artificial creature correcting the deficiencies of nature. This correction is
carried out through the implementation, via the mechanism of the State, of the
legal order. The state machine extends into reality the verbal structure of the
law.
R. EDELMAN
NANTES JUILLET 2026
Crédit photo : Henry Doyle (1868), Massacre of Drogheda (1649),
Herodote.net
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