Naturalism and Democracy: A Commentary on Spinoza’s Political Treatise in the Context of His System [Hardcover ed.] 9004338551, 9789004338555

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Naturalism and Democracy

Naturalism and Democracy A Commentary on Spinoza’s “Political Treatise” in the Context of His System Edited by Wolfgang Bartuschat Stephan Kirste Manfred Walther Translated by James Fontini

leiden | boston

This book was first published in German as: Naturalismus und Demokratie. Spinozas ‘Politischer Traktat’ im Kontext seines Systems (Tübingen, 2014). Published by Mohr Siebeck GmbH & Co. The translation of this work was funded by Geisteswissenschaften International – Translation Funding for Work in the Humanities and Social Sciences from Germany, a joint initiative of the Fritz Thyssen Foundation, the German Federal Foreign Office, the collecting society VG WORT and the Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels (German Publishers & Booksellers Association). Cover illustration: Baruch de Spinoza. Oil painting around 1665. In possession of the picture collection of the Herzog August Library, Wolfenbüttel (Germany). Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bartuschat, Wolfgang, editor. | Kirste, Stephan, editor. | Walther, Manfred, editor. Title: Naturalism and democracy : a commentary on Spinoza’s political treatise in the context of his system / edited by Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, Manfred Walther ; translated by James Fontini. Other titles: Naturalismus und Demokratie. English Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, 2019. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019011850 (print) | LCCN 2019019402 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004396944 (Ebook) | ISBN 9789004338555 (hardback : alk. paper) Subjects: LCSH: Spinoza, Benedictus de, 1632-1677. Tractatus politicus--Congresses. | Political science--Congresses. Classification: LCC JC163.S7343 (ebook) | LCC JC163.S7343 N3513 2019 (print) | DDC 320.1--dc23 lc record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019011850 Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/brill-typeface. isbn 978-90-04-33855-5 (hardback) isbn 978-90-04-39694-4 (e-book) Copyright 2019 by Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill NV incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Hes & De Graaf, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Rodopi, Brill Sense, Hotei Publishing, mentis Verlag, Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh and Wilhelm Fink Verlag. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Authorization to photocopy items for internal or personal use is granted by Koninklijke Brill NV provided that the appropriate fees are paid directly to The Copyright Clearance Center, 222 Rosewood Drive, Suite 910, Danvers, MA 01923, USA. Fees are subject to change. This book is printed on acid-free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents Preface  Vii Citations Conventions for Spinoza’s Works  IX Notes on Contributors  XI Spinoza’s Ontology and Epistemology as Background to his Political Theory  1 Wolfgang Bartuschat Political Philosophy as Theory of Practice (Chapter 1: Introduction)  11 Stephan Kirste and Manfred Walther Natural and State Right, or, Spinoza’s Justification of Practical Reason (TP, Chapter 2)  17 Gunnar Hindrichs Spinoza’s Theory of Sovereignty (TP, Chapter 3, §§ 1–10)  38 Oliver W. Lembcke Spinoza’s Theory of International Relations (TP, Chapter 3, §§ 11–18)  57 Tilmann Altwicker Right and Reason in Spinoza’s Political Philosophy On the Tasks and Limits of State Authority (TP, Chapter 4)  68 Tobias Herbst Theory of the Best State (TP, Chapter 5)  81 Martin Leiner Institutional Design to Stabilize the State i Theory of the (Constitutional) Monarchy (TP, Chapters 6 and 7)  93 Manfred Walther Theory of the Aristocracy (TP, Chapters 8–10)  103 Wolfgang Bartuschat

VI Spinoza’s Theory of Absolute Democracy   123 (TP, Chapters 7/5, 8/1, 11; ttp 16) Rainer Keil The Political Treatise in Present Discussion  149 Tilman Reitz Index of Names  181

Contents

Preface Spinoza’s political philosophy has long been overshadowed by his metaphysics, ethics, philosophy of religion, and hermeneutics of the Holy Scriptures. When scholars do consider his political philosophy, they refer mainly to the Theological-Political Treatise. Readers have even been warned of the dangers inherent in Spinoza’s critique of revealed religion with respect to political power. The mature presentation of Spinoza’s political philosophy in the posthumously published Political Treatise merits special attention for two reasons: (1) Spinoza provides a causal-analytical explanation of how and why more or less useful political institutions can evolve despite the fact that the actions of individuals and groups are determined primarily by affects and not by reason or insight. (2) On the basis of this reconstruction of the ‘natural’ origin of state and law, Spinoza elaborates designs for political institutions and applies them to all three forms of government (monarchy, aristocracy, and – though incomplete – democracy). These designs consist mainly of procedural laws with intense feedback mechanisms between those in power and the subjects or citizens. The more that citizens are involved in the decisionmaking process, the more peace and security are stabilized and even intensified not only for citizens and those in power, but also for the common good. Spinoza’s expositions in the Political Treatise are therefore of interest not only to philosophers, but also to jurists, political scientists, sociologists, and (political) economists. This volume contains revised versions of papers presented at a conference of the Study Group on the History of Legal Ideas (Section of the German Section of the International Association for Legal and Social Philosophy, ivr) in 2007 and is supplemented by additional articles. The articles present Spinoza’s political philosophy as it is grounded in his broader philosophical system. They provide extensive expositions and explanations of his argumentation, chapter by chapter, and culminate in a detailed and highly differentiated survey of the contemporary international discussion of the Political Treatise. The volume vividly presents the high level and stimulating potential of this research on Spinoza’s theory of politics. It should be a welcome addition to those not ­familiar

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enough with German to access German-language Spinoza scholarship.1 The publication of the volume has been made due to the financial support from the German Börsenverein des Deutschen Buchhandels, i.e. the decision of its jury Geisteswissenschaften International. Wolfgang Bartuschat, Stephan Kirste, and Manfred Walther Hamburg, Salzburg, and Hannover, October 2018 1 Publications on Spinoza’s political philosophy in German, English, and many other l­ anguages, are accessible at the International Online Bibliography on Spinoza: www.spinoza-bibliography.de.

Citations Conventions for Spinoza’s Works All quotations in English from The Collected Works of Spinoza. 2 Volumes. Ed. and transl. by Edwin Curley. Princeton 1985–2016. TP = Political Treatise (Curley 1, pp. 503–604). Citations are generally given without page numbers according to chapter and paragraph (i.e. 2/4). In some cases with longer citations, page numbers are also given. The other works referenced are as follows: E = Ethica/Ethics (Curley 1, pp. 408–616). Citations are given according to the following scheme. The first number refers to the part (1–5) of the Ethics, the following letters refer to the kind of sentence according to the table below, and the last number accounts for the number of the given sentence within a part of the Ethics. Individual passages are indicated as follows: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 = Part I, II etc. A = Appendix C1, C2 etc. = Corrolarium/Corrolary 1, 2 etc. Cap 1, Cap2, etc. = Caput/[without abbrev.] I, II etc. D1, D2 etc. = Demonstratio/Demonstration 1,2 etc. Def1, Def2, etc. = Definitio/Definition 1, 2 etc. D1, D2 etc. = Demonstration 1,2 etc. P1, P2 etc. = Proposition 1, 2 etc. Post1, 2 etc. =Postula/Postulates I, II etc. Praef = Praefatio/Preface S1, 2 etc. = Scholium 1, 2 etc. Quotation examples: E4 ACap2 = Ethica/Ethics, pars/part IV, Appendix, (Caput) II E2 P44C1 = Ethica/Ethics, pars/part II, propositio/proposition 44, corrolarium/corrolary 2 TIE = Tractatus de Intellectus Emendatione/Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect (Curley 1, pp. 7–45). Citations are given according to section (i.e. TIE § 56). TTP = T  ractatus theologico-politicus/Theological-Political Treatise (Curley 2, pp. 65–364).

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All citations or references from the works of Spinoza are given parenthetically at relevant place within the text and not in the notes. Example: “Its optimal form is the one which provides the state with “security” (securitas) (1/6), a security whose degree of need for the logical certainty (certitudo) of proof is initially difficult to see”.

Notes on Contributors Tilmann Altwicker is Swiss National Science Foundation (SNSF) Professor for Public Law, Public International Law, Legal Philosophy and Empirical Legal Research at the University of Zurich. ([email protected]) Wolfgang Bartuschat is professor (ret.) of Philosophy at Hamburg University. His areas of research are Philosophy of Modernity (emphasis on Spinoza and Kant), Systematic Metaphysics, Hermeneutics, and Philosophy of Law. ([email protected]) Tobias Herbst is currently substitute professor at the Faculty of Law at the University of Hamburg. His main areas of interest are Philosophy of Law and State, Constitutional Law, Data Protection Law, Medical Law, European Constitutional Law. ([email protected]) Gunnar Hindrichs is professor of Philosophy at the University of Basel. His areas of research are Metaphysics, Theories of Subjectivity, Social Philosophy, and Aesthetics. ([email protected]) Rainer Keil is Assistant Dean (Fakultätsreferent, Akademischer Direktor) of Heidelberg University’s Faculty of Law. His primary research interests are Philosophy of Law, Constitutional Law, Migration Law, and Refugee Law. ([email protected]) Stephan Kirste is professor of Philosophy of Law and Social Philosophy at the University of Salzburg. His interests lie in Philosophy of Law and Constitutional Law. ([email protected]) Martin Leiner is professor for Systematic Theology and Ethics at the Faculty of Protestant Theology at Friedrich-Schiller-University. His research focuses on Reconciliation Studies, Jewish Philosophy (Martin Buber and others), and issues in

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hermeneutics. In 2013 Leiner founded the Jena Center for Reconciliation Studies (JCRS). ([email protected]) Oliver W. Lembcke is professor of Political Science at Erfurt University and the temporary Chair of Comparative Politics. ([email protected]) Tilman Reitz is Professor for Sociology of Knowledge and Theory of Society at the Institute of Sociology at Friedrich-Schiller-Universität Jena. ([email protected]) Manfred Walther is Professor (emeritus) of Philosophy of Law at the Law Faculty of the Leibniz University of Hannover; Studies on the philosophy of law from Antiquity to present time; Spinoza and his reception in Germany; on the issues of this volume especially: Natur, Recht und Freiheit. Spinozas Theorie von Recht, Staat und Politik im Kontext der Frühen Neuzeit. Heidelberg 2018 (Walther: ­Spinoza-Studien, vol. 3). ([email protected])

Spinoza’s Ontology and Epistemology as Background to his Political Theory Wolfgang Bartuschat A commentary on Spinoza’s Political Treatise should view these writings “in the context of his system”. Spinoza himself refers at various points to this context, particularly at the beginning of the second chapter, “in order that the reader of the present treatise need not look elsewhere for what is relevant to it” (2/1). Unlike his first, anonymously published “Theological-Political Treatise” of 1670, Spinoza can refer to his own work here. Unlike the first treatise, the succession of argumentation in the second is more rigorously composed, in that it supports itself frequently with argumentation established from what was previously presented so that the theses appear as necessarily deduced. At the beginning of 2/2 Spinoza formulates a fundamental thesis: “each natural thing can be adequately conceived”. By way of a densely packed remark, then, he arrives at the central concept of his system, power (potentia), which he links to the concept of right (jus) central to his political theory. The sentence cited here, which introduces the political theory and therefore indicates the concepts of power and right, formulates fundamental tenets of ontology and epistemology in relation to a natural thing (res naturalis) and to conceiving (concipere). Spinoza’s initial discussions of the fundamental tenets of ontology and epistemology are found in his major work, Ethics, and indeed in this order, before he proceeds to what is ordinarily understood as ethics. In its rigorous form of presentation, oriented by the ordo geometricus, the work consists of a series of propositions whose proofs are supported in what has previously been developed, grounding what follows in what precedes. If one anchors politics in this manner of presentation, it would then be grounded in ontology (unfolded in the first section) and epistemology (object of the second section). Yet no theory of politics is to be found in any of the three sections that follow. It is only touched upon in a note (to proposition 37 of the forth section),1 that is, in an exposition that stands outside of the rigorously proven path of deduction. What follows ontology and epistemology initially serves the exposition of anthropological conditions, knowledge of which is indispensible for a proper theory of successful life. For this reason one would not speak of a foundation of 1 Walther 2006 draws significantly less in his interpretation from this remark than from the more in depth statements in the Political Treatise.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004396944_002

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political theory through ontology and epistemology with Spinoza, but rather of general conditions developed in these fields against which, with regard to anthropology, a tenable political theory cannot be developed.2 If we consider these general conditions, it is clear that ontology remains unaltered, and that this is also the case with the basic tenets of epistemology, except that knowing has a different meaning with politics than it has with ethics. Ethics relies entirely upon intelligence, rational knowledge. A successful life is a form of rational life, in which the individual is guided by reason and acts on the basis of his own insight into what is, in which the individual has, as it were, internalized ontology. Politics, in contrast, develops a form of life that corresponds to what is recognized by reason, but that does not require that the individual be guided by reason. The theory of politics draws from what Spinoza has demonstrated between Parts iii and v of the Ethics, namely, that mere reason is weak in the face of affect as impetus of human action. The forth section of the Ethics is entitled “Of Human Bondage”. In it Spinoza gives thorough consideration to the prospect human reason has in the formation of one’s own life and simultaneously explains why, despite all one’s creative force and virtue, man is still made to suffer from irrational desire. This part concerns, as its title indicates, the “forces of affects”, affects that dominate man and make it exceedingly difficult to assert reason over and against them. In the fourth part, which deals first with “human freedom”, Spinoza evinces their strength by passing them through a parcourse. This parcourse is bound to a maximum degree of intellectuality so that few are able to make it through and it is for this reason that a theory of politics cannot be founded upon them. What remains is to attend to the affects (and this is the first word of the Political Treatise) that make us suffer. In being subject to them, we are not free. For this reason, it is precisely in recognition of the individuals’ affectivity that a rational coexistence of men is realized without recourse to their use of reason. To realize this is the task of politics and this cannot succeed in ignorance of the nature of human affects. There are those who, on the one hand, do not want to accept what is and so have no idea about the nature of things, and, on the other hand, cannot properly assess what man, in the face of his affects, can and cannot accomplish through reason. What these people, bad political theorists, do not know shall be approached in what follows with an eye towards Spinoza’s ontology and epistemology.3 Spinoza develops his ontology in the first section of the Ethics dealing with God (“De Deo”). This section contains a theory of the elementary structures of 2 Röd 2002 has rightly emphasized this. 3 On the relation of both domains compare Bartuschat 1992, iii. Section.

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the world. According to Spinoza these structures follow from a single principle which, using traditional vocabulary, he calls “God”. This single principle allows a unified explanation of the world. It can be generally said that Spinoza’s ontology is conceived entirely upon human rationality.4 What follows from God is such that it can also be deduced from him and Spinoza continually makes use of a double meaning of the Latin sequi: sequi as “to follow” (causal relation) and sequi as “to deduce” (logical relation). This brought him reproach (particularly as formulated by Leibniz) for not differentiating between causa (cause) and ratio (ground) and, in this way, conflating physics and logic, i.e. the theory of what factually exists and that of conceptual non-contradiction. Leibniz modified ontology contra Spinoza and based it upon a world-transcendental God, who, endowed with free will, appears from the perspective of benevolence as the creator of the factually existing world. Kant freed epistemology entirely from an ontology à la Spinoza and limited the scope of human knowing in order to make room for a moral theory in which man becomes aware of an absolute grounded in pure practical reason and independent of all theoretical knowledge. Spinoza wanted to avoid both consequences in his ontology: on the one hand, the flight into a world-transcendent god endowed with a creative intellect and a will that can choose, which is to say, a capacity that is to be accepted by us humans, but which eludes our rational reconstruction; and, on the other hand, the rigid separation of knowledge and morality, the scientific investigation of causal relations and the moral awareness of an absolute obligation which is free of such relations. Let us consider first the ontology. Spinoza does not determine the essence of God through some sort of faculty, whether it be intellect or will, but solely by way of power (potentia) in the sense of a creative productivity. Power is grounded in the necessity of divine nature. It therefore not does express itself arbitrarily (something like the power of a sovereign), but does so with necessity (E1 P34). God’s potentia is not potentiality in the sense of an “ability to do more” or an “ability to do otherwise”, but rather in the sense of complete realization. This complete realization does not allow one to attribute an inexplicable remainder to God that would not already have been received in his product. Spinoza takes up this issue under the heading of an immanent causality (God is causa immanens, not transiens; E1 P19). Because God, according to his essence, realizes himself in things, these things belong inseparably to God. God does not have to come out of himself in order to produce something distinct from himself. God is not something apart who then also yields something else. God realizes himself in being the creative cause of everything that is. 4 Fundamental to this Gueroult 1968, Introduction.

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He is only as the producer of everything that actually exists and is therefore subject to a necessity that is the effect of the nature of God (E1 P33). Spinoza calls what is produced in this way from God’s causality a mode. A mode is a thing contained in the productivity of God. Each particular thing that exists is a sort of mode (E1 P25C). Man is also a mode. He is not a select or chosen creature among the things of nature, just as God is not a personal God who wishes humankind well only when they behave properly and punishes them when they do not. When man, in being what he is, including his cognitive faculties, is a modus, this has immediate implications for epistemology as it concerns Spinoza in the second part of the Ethics (“De mente humana”). In having an ontology precede the theory of man’s mental abilities, Spinoza emphasizes that man, in his knowing, is determined by matters that precede all knowledge. Man is thus not an autonomous subject when seen from the perspective of epistemology. Formulated otherwise and in scholastic terminology, man is not a self-sufficient substance which can, by way of its thinking, exist for itself separate from the body. The Cartesian question – how the human mind, which exists for itself, emerges from itself to recognize a world that is distinct from it – is falsely posed and can therefore never be answered. According to Spinoza, the mind can only ever recognize the corporeal world when it is already referred to it. An idea is always the idea of something. As idea it is always and necessarily the idea of something corporeal or, by way of the reflexivity of human mind, the idea of an idea of something corporeal. This cannot be understood from the structure of the idea; it is rather an effect of the structure of God as the one principle of everything. The intellectual and corporeal exist as essentially distinct regions, effects of the unified productivity of God under essentially distinct attributes. On the basis of the attributes thinking and extension, God produces ideas on the one hand and material things as objects of ideas on the other, doing so in one and the same act such that both ideas and things correspond internally to one another without having a causal influence upon one another. The famed seventh proposition of the second part of the Ethics reads, “The order and connection of ideas is the same as the order and connection of things”. This has the following consequences for human knowledge. On the one hand, strictly speaking, all ideas are “always already” true, because they agree with that from which they are ideas. Formulated in axiom 6 of the first part of the Ethics, this understanding of truth is a principle which belongs to ontology and which precedes all of our knowledge. On the other hand, this circumstance does not present itself as such for us. A single idea corresponds to its object insofar as it stands in a universal nexus with all other ideas. This universal nexus corresponds, in turn, to the universal nexus in which a single body stands with

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all other bodies. We perceive this nexus only in a perspectival reduction, and thus as distorted, on the basis of the state of our body, each time according to our body’s being affected. This is a contingent process conditioned by our habitual way of life which does not allow us to apprehend what makes an idea true. With this precondition we have, initially and for the most part, an inadequate knowledge of the world. We resort to a form of knowledge of mere imagination or opinion that Spinoza calls imaginatio. According to the first part’s presentation of ontology and the consequences that follow, man exists as a creature constituted of mind and body. For this reason Spinoza opens his epistemology, at the beginning of the second part, with an explication of the structure of the form of knowledge particular to man in his finitude (E2 P14ff.). The constitution of our body, due to our entanglement in the whole of nature’s causal nexus, exposes us to external affections to which ideas correspond. We link together the ideas corresponding to affects habitually and by way of mere association and in doing so create a distortion that does not allows us access to true ideas. On the one hand, man sinks into an illusion by wanting to dismiss or explain away the necessary relation to our bodies. On the other hand, it cannot be said that the mind would be able, simply by thinking, to direct the processes of the body. Inadequate knowing is anchored in the nature of man. A large portion of the Ethics is dedicated to this problem: how an adequate knowing is nevertheless possible for man faced with such matters of fact. If the truth of an idea is distinguished by correspondence (agreement with the object), the criterion under which an idea is true for us, upon which we can validate whether or not it is true, is adequacy. This criterion is not the correspondence of the structure of ideas with the conditions of things in the corporeal world, because the finite mind has no means of apprehending the universal interdependence of parts corresponding to one another that is at stake here. The criterion can only be an immanent feature of the idea. Man can conceive of this when he grasps the idea from out of its true cause. He does so by grasping the idea as a mode and therefore as a product of God. In this way, when man understands himself by way of the ideas that he has, he does so in a different way than when he understands himself from the external affections of his body. He understands the ideas as coming from God, and has in this way a knowledge that is not merely imaginative. In this way man is able to free himself from the root of illusion, superstition, or anthropomorphized contortions of what actually is. Spinoza articulates adequate knowledge in two forms that he calls ratio and scientia intuitiva. Adequate knowledge is not knowledge of totality. As ratio, adequate knowledge is knowledge of what is not otherwise in part than it is in totality (E2 P38). Spoken in a modern manner, one would call this structural

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knowledge, knowledge of the general laws under which all world occurrences stand in their regularity. As scientia intuitiva, adequate knowledge is knowledge of God, who is not something general. It has precedence over ratio because it is with scientia intuitiva that man can conceive of himself not only as a case of something general, but in his individuality. Without going into further detail here, I would like only to emphasize that at the end of the second part of the Ethics, Spinoza concisely states that intuitive knowledge is not some mysterious enigma, but rather something guaranteed by the structure of God. This is because the immanent causality of God entails that God, by way of his causality, is present in all things and therefore in each individual idea (E2 P45), an idea out of which God can therefore be known. The non-transcendence of God is a precondition of the possibility of an adequate knowledge of God for finite man. With an adequate knowledge of God, man can acquire at once an appropriate understanding of himself and of the world to which he belongs. Rational theology, rational cosmology, and rational psychology are merged and fused with one another. Yet Spinoza understood that ethics in the stricter sense requires more than simply drawing inferences from the entanglement of ontology and epistemology. It is not enough to demonstrate that adequate knowledge of God is guaranteed to man through ontology and, moreover, that the immanent causality of God anchored in ontology is also guaranteed. It is not enough because this would be the case only according to its possibility and is not yet factual. Beyond this, the task of ethics is to show the conditions under which man is able to actually have such an adequate knowledge. For this, the analysis must engage the finitude of man substantially and analyze the conditions that prevent him from acquiring such knowledge. If one approaches this too simply, making hasty and premature judgments, he comes only to illusions. Spinoza saw clearly that the chief impediment is the affects to which men are ineluctably exposed. The third part of the Ethics is dedicated to them and contains a sober structural analysis of human affects (of what nature they are and whence they have their origin). What man can and cannot do regarding the affects can only be shown on the basis of such knowledge. A determination of man’s power presupposes knowledge of his powerlessness. Neither ethics nor politics can be developed against what man is not capable of. In this respect, the two regions (ethics and politics) agree. They are distinguished, however, in how they define the way in which human power is asserted in the face of human affectivity. Therefore, something else may be said of Spinoza’s theory of affects, whereby, in reflection upon the basis of human affectivity, the conjunction between the doctrines of ontology and epistemology is to be viewed as what determines the basis of human affectivity.

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The third part of the Ethics, which contains this theory, is titled “Of the Origin and Nature of the Affects” and the theory does in fact follow this succession. The origin of the affects, from which their nature is to be clarified, is the individual human’s striving to persevere his own being (conatus in suo esse perseverandi), in short, self-preservation (E3 P6). According to Spinoza, this striving is the essential mark of every individual thing because it expresses the internal power belonging to each thing as a mode of God. The last proposition of the ontology formulates it as follows (E1 P36): “Nothing exists from whose nature some effect does not follow”. Whatever exists, according to the immanent causality of God, is determined through the essence of God and hence power itself. This is to say that whatever exists is an essentially active thing that effects something and is therefore an efficient cause of something. Despite its finitude, an individual within its limitations is not an essentially passive thing that would be determined by the influence of external things. Every finite thing is indeed determined by things external to it because it is inevitably only a part of a universal nexus. Yet, from within itself, it goes out to counter restricting external effects and seeks to assert itself against them. This going out to counter, precisely this confronting, is the conatus belonging to each finite thing, which Spinoza defines, in view of man as the desire (cupiditas) that precedes all consciousness, sometimes calling it a blind desire. If what is desired leads to an increase in the power of acting of the one desiring, then his desiring is connected with an affect, namely, a feeling of joy (laetitia). In the other case, that of a decrease in power of acting, it is a feeling of sadness (tristitia). Each thing is, because essentially active, quite naturally out to increase its power of acting. With man, this natural tendency is accompanied by consciousness, which, affectively determined, directs itself towards objects that are seen as favorable or unfavorable for his striving towards self-preservation. In his view, objects that benefit are objects of love (amor) and those which impede are objects of hate (odium). In this way, for man, the affects of joy and sadness, which are linked immediately with desire, are inseparably bound with the affects of love and hate, which are directed at imagined objects. Thus it is from the conjunction of natural tendencies and consciousness, which articulates itself in human striving towards self-preservation, that Spinoza deduces the fundamental structure of elementary affects. What is decisive is that the recognition that applies this structure – which, for humans, binds joy with love and sadness with hate – is inadequate. Man, partial to imagination, will love objects that he believes to nourish and enhance his joy without this being the case in reality. His conatus is a conatus imaginandi, a striving accompanied by imagination, with which “he strives, as far as it can, to imagine those things that increase or aid the body’s power

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of acting” (EP P12). Insofar as his striving to increase the body’s power of action is a striving which articulates itself in the mode of imagination (imaginari conatur), something which is not directed at what actually increases his power, man ends up in a suffering that turns his affects into passions (passiones), passions which dominate him and leave him dependent. This brings about a fundamental instability of affective life, a fluctuation of the soul (fluctuation animi), a constant transformation of joy into sadness and, accordingly, love into hate. What is allegedly good and therefore desired by man frequently proves, immediately or over time, to be something bad, disposing him towards sadness. It is not simply the instantaneousness of what is desired as beneficial and good that can be said to be unable to endure in a larger context, because it is governed by mere imagination. Recourse to reason, which has such a larger context in view, may be seen as helpful against this. What makes reason weak in effect is the fact that man, led by a conatus imaginandi, is keen on deception, persuading himself of contexts he deems might be beneficial. This is the case because the conatus is not originally rational, but is rather a simple desiring, and this matter is thus not to be eliminated through an appeal to reason. An unavoidable antagonism among men results from this form of striving.5 Spinoza describes this in all its bleakness with scientific detail, because what arises from the nature of man is not to be bemoaned, but to be investigated and established in dispassionate analysis. In the Political Treatise, it is no different than in the Ethics. For Spinoza, this form of scientific description is imperative (emphasized in 1/4). The beginning of the Treatise is combined with a critique of positions that do not satisfy the structure of human affectivity grounded in conatus and which lose themselves in beautiful expectations that have no place in human life, expectations which are utopic. These are positions that draw upon a freedom through which man should be able to control his affects, believing that it would be wrong to not grasp his freedom. Spinoza rejects that such a freedom be assigned to our reason. If this were the case, it would be a capacity that would precede the conatus like a sort of supervisor. In particular, Spinoza objects to such an extra capacity of supervision by reiterating that, if the conatus constitutes the essence of man, then man is an entity existing in himself only in the enactment of his conatus and never independently of it. Just as the power of God is only in its expressions, so human conatus, as a modification of God’s power like every other individual thing, is only in its expressions, which means in the actual enactment of its activity and as delimited in this enactment. Reason is capable of nothing contrary to this enactment in its facticity and therefore contrary to 5 Cf. in particular Matheron 1969, Second Part.

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the desire rooted in imaginatio. Reason is too weak in effect in its attempts to overtake this enactment. Spinoza’s Ethics also understands this. The solution given in the fourth part is that reason itself must assume the figure of an affect and, in this figure, prove itself stronger than those affects which stem from an irrational desire (E4 P7). In a further move in the fifth part of the Ethics, Spinoza shows that reason does not attain its full strength until it becomes the form of enactment of the conatus and transforms the conatus imaginandi into a conatus intelligendi, a conatus which might now be bound with a stable joy, invulnerable to shifting into sadness. It is a joy that takes joy in recognition and has as its only object that which not only advances this recognition but also brings it to completion and is loved for this reason (E5 P32). The inner-worldly love that is directed at partial goods of this world transforms into a love for God which is purely intellectual, into amor intellectualis Dei, in which those find fulfillment, and only those, who understand their conatus as an enactment of intelligence. That is the way of ethics, a way which politics cannot go, lest its object be a republic of sages. According to TP 1/7, the foundations of states are not to be extracted from the propositions of reason, but deduced from the nature common to all humankind. The theory of politics must lower the role of reason and not seek to show how an emotional component is bound to it that has the power to bring order to man’s “affect household”. Its task is sooner to show how, with the help of state laws, a balance of desire that avoids conflict can be achieved precisely from the irrational, affective desire of man in his manifoldness. Yet, at the same time, politics has circumstances to consider which are independent of all state legislation, making it such that Spinoza’s theory of politics must also be grounded independently of state legislation. These circumstances are that a harmonious coexistence of men is not possible contra their affects, but rather only with them and that it therefore also cannot be achieved contra the instance in which the affects have their origin, the conatus perservandi of each individual. This ontologically guaranteed and epistemologically secured origin, which cannot be overstepped and which should not be lost by politics in illusions includes 1. that for individual humans it is about the preservation of their own being and 2. that the manner of striving after self-preservation remains bound to illusions possessed by the one striving and that he therefore, as misguided as they may be, cannot surrender them to another who might make judgements in his place. It follows from this that a power is assigned to each and not only to this one or that one, which, as limited as it may be, allows each to stand under his own right and not under the Power of another (2/8). A clever politics therefore understands that a man, in whatever form, cannot be deprived of his right to decide, not because this would be morally objectionable

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and that he should not be incapacitated, but because it could only occur at the cost of that man revolting against it. A clever politics insists upon this. At the very least, men cannot be permanently incapacitated, but only ever temporarily – Spinoza was convinced of this regarding human nature – and only in a state that would become instable when threatened by latent indignation since, for Spinoza, instability is the greatest malady that can befall a community. This has allowed him to say in the Political Treatise: “the virtue of the state [that is, what constitutes it] is security (securitas)” (1/6), namely, the security of those foundations from which alone a state can attain stability. They cannot be established contra the freedom of the intellectual attitude of the individuals (animi libertas, 1/6), for which the Ethics has made the case. On the other hand, they cannot be grounded in this freedom solely as a virtue of the merely private (privata virtus, 1/6). Demonstrating this is the central motif of Spinoza’s Political Treatise, at once determining the internal order of this text and constituting its tension-filled composition. Bibliography Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1992): Spinozas Theorie des Menschen. Hamburg. Gueroult, Martial (1968): Spinoza I (Dieu). Paris. Matheron, Alexandre (1969): Individu et communauté chez Spinoza. Paris. Röd, Wolfgang (2002): Benedictus de Spinoza. Eine Einführung. Stuttgart. Walther, Manfred (2011): Elementary features of Spinoza’s political philosophy. In: Hampe, Michael/Renz Ursula/Schnepf Robert (eds.): Spinoza’s Ethics. A collective commentary. Leiden [e.a.], pp. 211–232.

Political Philosophy as Theory of Practice (Chapter 1: Introduction) Stephan Kirste and Manfred Walther In the introductory chapter to the Political Treatise, Spinoza reflects upon the methods and principles of a political philosophy committed to a realistic politics. Doing this he looks at both philosophical foundations and practical politics in the sense of governance and policy making. He underlines that traditional political philosophy does not take the nature of man into account and that this leads to contradictions which make the essential task of political practice unattainable for the state. In contrast, political theory would be concerned with good (“which agrees best with”) practice grounded in principles which do not arise from wishful thinking but which must be proven in their necessity. Spinoza develops his political philosophy in a critical confrontation with the dominant political ideologies of his time, namely those with the recourse to the rational nature of man predominant in (political) philosophy on the one hand (1/1) and the power techniques of political practioneers, impreg­nated with experience [erfahrungsgesättigt], on the other (1/2–3). Spinoza’s own method is developed as a causal-analytic reconstruction of political practice based on man’s factual constitution and structure of motivation (1/4). He appeals to insights obtained in the third and fourth section of his Ethics regarding the affects’ determination of man’s action, according to which reason does not have the force sufficient to shape the coexistence of men. That is why one can make neither the genesis nor the content of the structures of this coexistence in state relations intelligible by recourse to reason (1/5). The stability of the state is to be ensured institutionally, independent of man’s disposition, be it rational or determined through passions (1/6). Thus the conditions for the formation and stability of the state need to be clarified on the basis of the affective constitution common to men independently of the cultural standard of the people (1/7). Spinoza begins §1 by remarking that the philosophers, and indeed all of them by his account,1 in ethics as well as in political philosophy, proceed from their wishful representations of man and denounce his actual constitution, which is tugged about by affects (conflictamur). The more severe their 1 Cf. detailed and at length, Matheron 2011

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condemnation, the loftier the philosophers feel. Because of this, they have not formulated a practically applicable political theory, but rather “a chimera”. At any rate, they have brought about a political theory that could have only been established under unrealistic conditions of “utopia2 or in the golden age of the Poets, where there’d be absolutely no need for it [practical politics]”. This has strengthened the notion among men that there is a contradiction of theory and practice detectable in all of the applied sciences, particularly in politics, and that the “theoreticians or philosophers” are therefore to be held as “less suitable to guide public affairs”. It is significant that Spinoza begins his treatise with the term “affect”. Affect is the basis of Spinoza’s anthropology and that upon which his political philosophy is built. Spinoza had already discussed the structure of affects in his Ethics, most importantly from a methodological perspective, and made affects intelligible by way of the cause-effect relationship by which they are conditioned.3 Affects are the reality which has to be faced by political theory. They should not be discarded by understanding them as a corrupt feature of man to be overcome through the force of man’s spirit as scholastic philosophy has. Spinoza points out in the Ethics (E3 Preface): “nothing happens in nature which can be attributed to any defect in it”. In this way, the affects, as belonging to nature, cannot be normatively brought to something that would seemingly be better. As with other natural phenomena, the causes of natural affects must be analyzed, rather than “to deride, bewail, berate them”. A rational foundation for politics must therefore base itself upon man’s natural essence and his affects and the concerns conditioned thereby. Just as he alleges that philosophers, as mere theoreticians, are generally detached from reality and thereby politically inept, in § 2 Spinoza explains the common disregard for politicians, albeit for opposite reasons. One alleges that politicians are “shrewd, rather than wise”, that they would sooner cheat someone than care for them. The reason for this is that they begin, empirically informed, from a pessimistic view of man. Consequently they attempt to develop techniques of power to which men conform, even if “more from fear than because they’re guided by reason”.4 It was the theologians, above all, who carried this accusation against the politicians. The theologians believe that “the supreme powers ought to treat the public business by the same rules of 2 Matheron 2011 shows that Spinoza actually confronts the “Utopia” of Thomas Moore, pp. 105–108. 3 See also the contribution of Bartuschat (introduction) in this volume. 4 That with this Spinoza actually confronts the political notions of the 16th and 17th century politiques is again explained in Matheron 2011, pp. 100–104.

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Piety (pietas) private men are bound by”. From Spinoza’s perspective the empirically satiated [erfahrungsgesättigt] politicians have nevertheless “written much more successfully about Political affairs than Philosophers have”. For Spinoza the theoretician of politics lacks the capacity for practical politics not for the reason that he is a philosopher. He lacks this capacity only if his theory is false. It is false, however, when it arises from one’s own wishful representations, rather than from an analysis of reality. The imagined ideality of human nature corresponds to contempt for actual humanity. It is not only the case that the purer the ideal is, the less significant is its practical relevance.5 It is also the case that through his contempt for reality, the theoretician too becomes victim of the affects, those affects which he nevertheless detests. With regard to the practice of politicians, Spinoza additionally emphasizes (in 1/3) that (political) experience has already shown “all kinds of State” – ­apparently he has the three forms of state in mind (2/17) – and the means of direction or restraint for a “multitude” (multitudo). Therefore nothing new or likewise applicable is ascertainable through mere contemplation. Spinoza stresses that the relevance of experience (experientia) in a broad sense6 for the formation of politics is not to be underestimated. In the Theological-Political Treatise (ttp), Spinoza refers increasingly to experience in order to confirm justifications of the intellect [Vernunft].7 Stressing the importance of empirical analysis in the introductory chapter to the TP, Spinoza wants to point the political theoretician to the existing information he must elaborate conceptually. Neglecting this leads to a bad theory. Political practitioners in their cunning and deceitfulness give credence to this value of experience. Their practice oriented by human affects, causes them to make efficient use of man’s longing for his own security. Spinoza believes that because men are not capable of existing without a ius commune,8 “acute” men, “cunning or shrewd” as they are, have already taken everything suited to society into consideration with their legislation and administration. At the very least, everything that men deem relevant in terms of “common affairs” and in the interest of their own security has already been noted. Spinoza is convinced that such tactics are, moreover, consequent in the struggle against human profligacy. Nevertheless, it is the case that the 5 Cf. de Dijn 2001, p. 52f. 6 Fundamental on the relation between reason and experience Moreau 1994. 7 Already in the preface to the ttp the connection between fear and superstition, exposed conceptually, is exemplified through the general Alexander (ttp Praef) and, in the concluding chapter, the indispensability, theoretically grounded, of conceding the freedom of expression to people is supported through the example of the well-ordered city of Amsterdam (ttp 20/40) 8 Cf. 3/15 and Hindrich’s contribution to this volume.

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application of this stratagem can cause dysfunction to the purposes of the state. Trying to tame men with fear and coercion contradicts human nature, because such restraint prohibits the free development of men in their natural capacity. A state that suppresses the natural capacities of men cannot at the same time promote its natural goal. All measures which contravene the nature of man contradict the state’s ultimate goal to secure the freedom of the individual, which Spinoza has stressed persistently in the ttp and which remains valid in the TP. In § 4 Spinoza asserts that he does not develop a new theory, but that he only wishes to establish “the things which agree best with practice”, in a manner which is allegedly scientific. In doing this, he emphasizes less the tried practices of politicians, but rather the fact that theory must be scientifically instructed by “human nature as it really is”. The optimal form of practice is to be derived (deducere) from this nature and to be demonstrated (demonstrare) accordingly on the basis of this nature. For this purpose, human affects are to be comprehended causal-analytically, free of value judgments, as it is custom to judge the weather. Thus they should not be condemned as a flaw in human nature. A scientific knowledge of this sort, demonstrated “in a certain and indubitable way”, is well capable of educing joy (mens gaudet). Spinoza says this en passant, without wanting to assert that the affect of joy would play an essential role in the shaping of affective life by politicians. It is apparently essential for Spinoza that the derivation of affects from human nature occurs in a “certain and indubitable way”, a manner we are familiar with from mathematics (more geometrico).9 This is obviously connected to the claim that a “more certain” demonstration not only correctly describes political occurrence, but is also capable of bringing its optimal form in view. Its optimal form is the one which provides the state with “security” (securitas) (1/6). It is initially difficult to see to what extent security requires the logical certainty (securitas) of proof. As § 5 states, a theory of practice bound to precision has to proceed from the fact ascertained in the Ethics that “man is necessarily always subjected to passions” (E4 P4C). Men are sooner inclined towards vengeance than compassion (E4 Acap13) and endeavor that all others share their value judgments. They feel validated by this and in the opposite case experience cognitive or affective dissonance. At the same time, the desire to “be first”, allows men to necessarily “fall into quarrels” and seek possibilities “to crush each other” (E2 P39 + S). This blatantly contradicts, according to common beliefs, religious teaching, namely, that you shall love your next as you love yourself, that is, that one “should defend his neighbor’s right as he would his own” (Principle of Justice). Yet, according 9 Cf. Röd 2001, p. 184f.

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to Spinoza, the highly esteemed teachings of a properly understood religion do not really have the force to motivate action in daily life. Reason, on the other hand, is indeed capable of a great deal when it comes to the restraint and temperance of the affects,10 in particular when it bases itself upon insight into human nature. Most people, however, do not act upon reason. The suggestion, then, that the multitude, including those caught in political dispute or fight, can be convinced to lead their life based upon reason belongs in the kingdom of dreams or fairytales. Therefore, the production of a stable civil order depends not upon the attitude of men but, above all, upon well-organized institutions.11 It is not the inner disposition, but the external action of the state that is decisive in politics. From this presepctive we should strictly distinguish private morality and the principles of politics. They are internally connected by the state’s establishing security, which is the precondition for the development of a morality in the sense of autonomous self-governance. Without this autonomy it would be impossible for people to develop their own abilities and resources.12 Because of their individual autonomy, citizens seek to realize their pursuit of selfpreservation, which is the reason why they consent to the state and obey its laws. The state needs this consent because it must be supported by its citizens. It remains, however, that Spinoza emphasizes that the political has its own laws [Eigengesetzlichkeit] and therefore conceives of political institutions in such a way that they have their internal force independently of individual morality. In § 6 Spinoza concludes from this that the stability of the state cannot be founded on “someone’s good faith”, including those who govern. It requires an institutional order in which the governing authorities let their actions be determined by society’s well-being, independent of the disposition that compels the administrators – be it reason or an affect. Strength of character belongs in the sphere of private virtues. The virtue of the state, i.e. what constitutes a state, is security. This requires a form of organization independent of the subjective attitude of individuals. Because “all men everywhere […] combine their practices and form some sort of civil order (statum civilem)”, state-building is a primordial [naturwüchsig] process, political philosophy, according to § 7, can only ascertain the optimal constitution of a society if it first explains the genesis of state and law causally, indeed from the nature common to all men – i.e. from their pursuit of self-preservation by whatever means available in an environment that is not aligned to their needs. This common nature (communis natura) is not a commonality 10 11 12

Cf. the close of the Ethics: E5 P42 + C. Geismann 1989, p. 414f. and Walther 1990. Rice 2001, p. 147ff.

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already connecting men. It is rather a commonality of elements that befall all men. These are the affects, including those that lead to conflict, for example, the desire to be first at the cost of others, an affect which Spinoza believes is proper to all men (“cum omnes pariter appetant primi esse”, 1/5). In contrast to the commonality of affects, the use of reason is not the common mark of all men, but rather only the mark of a few. Therefore, reason alone cannot explain the genesis of the state, particularly the principles which guarantee its stability. Although the affects common to all, do not bring about the peaceful association of men due to their structure, they remain the cause and basis of the state. For a realistic theory of politics affects like ambition must not therefore be repressed, but channeled by the institutions. Before turning to the doctrine of institutions, Spinoza first expounds his genetic theory of the emergence of the state in the chapter following the introduction. Bibliography Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2001): Moralität bei Spinoza. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 23–45. De Dijn, Herman (2001): Theory and Practice and the Practice of Theory. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 46–58. Geismann, Georg (1989): Spinoza jenseits von Hobbes und Rousseau. In: Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung 43, pp. 405–431. Matheron, Alexandre (2000): Ethik und Politik bei Spinoza. In: Hammacher, Klaus et al. (eds.): Zur Aktualität der Ethik Spinozas. Würzburg, pp. 317–327. Matheron, Alexandre (2011): Spinoza et la décomposition de la politique thomiste. Machiavélisme et utopie. In: Id.: Études sur Spinoza et les philosophies de l’âge classique. Paris, pp. 81–111. Moreau, Pierre-François (1994): L’expérience et l’éternité. Paris. Rice, Lee C. (2001): Spinoza’s Notion of Tenere in his Moral and Political Thought. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 139–156. Röd, Wolfgang (2001): Spinozas Staatsphilosophie und der Geist der Geometrie. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 173–188. Walther, Manfred (1990): Institution, Imagination und Freiheit bei Spinoza. Eine kritische Theorie politischer Institutionen. In: Göhler, Gerhard et al. (eds.): Politische Institutionen im gesellschaftlichen Umbruch. Ideengeschichtliche Beiträge zur Theorie politischer Institutionen. Opladen, pp. 246–275.

Natural and State Right, or, Spinoza’s Justification of Practical Reason (TP, Chapter 2) Gunnar Hindrichs I

Practical Reason

Human action, as distinct from mere comportment, is determined through ­assumptions as to what would be good or bad. The concepts “good” and “bad” are understood here in the broadest sense. They indicate what we should do and what we should refrain from doing. What “to do” and “refrain from doing” mean more precisely, can be grasped in different ways as benefit or harm; as unconditional demand and its transgression; as realization of an objective contained in the essence of the agent and its omission. Assumptions about what is good or bad always, however, constitute reasons for determining ­human action. The capability to form such assumptions about what is good or bad (according to the German original) is what we call “practical reason”. It is a form of reason because it consists in assumptions, for which, in principle, reasons – convincing or unconvincing – can be given, and is practical because it constitutes a reason which determines action. We can therefore also say that human action is determined by practical reason. Belonging to Spinoza’s most radical theses – and Spinoza’s thought is rather rich in radical theses – is one on the foundation of assumptions about “good” and “bad”. Spinoza asserts that there is “sin”,—something which contravenes the good—, and its opposite, the good itself (2/18–21), only in the civil state. Accordingly, assumptions about what is good or bad receive their meaning solely through human socialization. The socialization of human beings, in turn, occurs through their actions in so far as their actions occur in relation to the actions of other people. This means that assumptions about “good” or “bad” receive their meaning from a human being’s actions which relates to the actions of others. Put otherwise, assumptions about “good” and “bad” do not receive their reason from something given, which somehow precedes the actions of human beings. They receive their reason from the social actions of human beings themselves. They are – consciously or unconsciously – produced in the living-together of human beings. Spinoza’s thesis on the foundation of assumptions about what is good or bad has consequences for the concept of practical reason. As the capacity to form assumptions about what is good or bad, practical reason is expressed in actions which relate to the actions of other human beings. The socialization of © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004396944_004

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human beings, however, is the socialization of their power. Spinoza also argues that the action of the individual is an expression of its power. If individual action is conceived in relation to the action of other human beings, then this power relates to another’s power. The network of action for human beings is therefore the socialization of their power (2/13–15). It follows from this that assumptions about “good” and “bad” are, as the products of socialized human beings, also, the products of socialized power. In other words, assumptions about the good and the bad are positions of power. Consequently, practical reason is based upon socialized power. Its expression within human socialization ­expresses positions of power. The grounding of practical reason by way of socialized power should not be confused with a relativization of the concepts of “good” and “bad”. This is because practical reason is capable of reflecting upon itself. In such reflection it grasps itself as an expression of socialized power. When it proceeds to reflect upon the structures and conditions of socialized power it expresses, it is then capable of apprehending the structures and conditions underlying all practical reason. In apprehending these structures and conditions, agents possess standards which exist independently of the particular positions of power they express. And if they succeed in developing assumptions about “good” and “bad” from these standards, they have attained an insight into the good and the bad that is no longer relative because it applies to all practical reason. In this way the self-reflection of practical reason leads from the knowledge of its being bound to power to knowledge of the universal conditions by which action is capable of orienting itself. Nevertheless, this reflection does not exceed human socialization. It remains immanent to it in order that it gain general insights into the good and the bad on the basis of socialized power. So far we have seen the outline of Spinoza’s foundation of practical reason. He delivers its basic principles in the second chapter of the Political Treatise (TP). The chapter is concerned with the relation of natural and state right. However, it moves beyond the narrower problem of right and into the basic features grounding our practical reason. This has two motives. First, state right belongs to the forces determining practical reason. This is because state right, in sanctioning particular actions, makes statements about what we should do and what we should refrain from doing. At the same time it is an instituted right. In this way, State right determines action through the conscious institution of socialized power. State right can thus well demonstrate the grounds for what we should do and refrain from doing through the process of socialization (according to the German original). It is here that its relationship to natural right becomes significant. For if there were a natural right that would bind the propositions of state right, the civil state would have to be exceeded by the state of nature in order to justify the good and the bad. However, going beyond

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socialization is excluded by Spinoza’s outline of the justification of practical reason. The relation of state right and natural right thus becomes an example of the relation between the statutes of human socialization and extra-societal conditions. Second, and more importantly, “natural right” is only another expression for determinations of the good and the bad which exist independently of human socialization. In other words, if what we should do and refrain from doing were determined outside of society, there would then be a natural right that would account for these determinations. Therefore, whether the good and the bad can be justified in terms of socialized power depends upon the clarification of the concept of natural right. The discussion of natural right is thus not only concerned with the particularity of state right, but rather with the foundation of practical reason more generally. II

Natural Right

Before we can grasp the significance of the TP’s second chapter, we must first consider the concept of natural law. It becomes clearer in view of the opposition of nomos and physis. This opposition emerged when the ethos of the polis could no longer be taken as self-evident.1 The sophistic enlightenment brought the custom and law of the state face to face with the organic growth of plants and animals in which their essence is fulfilled. In such confrontation, the nomos – the epitome of the legal framework for a free communal life – a­ ppeared as a human charter without universal binding force and the order of the polis proved to be mere regional convention, nothing other than a coin minted by human beings (nomisma). In contrast to this, the natural realm (das natürliche Reich, in the German original), which manifested the eternal essence of things, physis, became the higher authority. Just as medicine taught that orientation by nature conveyed the healthy way of life, so political orientation had to look away from mores and custom toward nature in order to heal. The contingency of the legal framework was checked by the necessity of natural being. Yet, how can the contingent legal framework required for social life survive in the face of the eternity of nature with which it is meant to live in harmony? Natural law provided the most important answer to this question. It states that nature herself is to be conceived of as lawful in order to ground the lawfulness of social life upon it. Put otherwise, physis, which is supposed to allow the convention of communal life to recover, carries the nomos within itself. It is in this sense that Plato’s Callicles speaks of the “law of nature” (νόμος τῆς φύσεως) 1 Heinimann 1945, p. 110ff; Pohlenz 1965.

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without, in fact, pursuing the thought any further (Gorgias 483 e 6). It was the Stoics in particular who later formulated a unified theory of natural right from the elements of Greek thought concerning a law of nature.2 The core notion of this proved to be as formative as the differentiation between physis and nomos. It states that the rational order of the world, in which each being would be aligned with a determinate end (telos), can be recognized by human beings in order to deduce from it the objectives of action and its corresponding laws. This means that in the natural law of teleological nature Being and Ought are not separate. And because nature represents the one nature of the whole, its laws are valid for all its members. In this way the nomos is freed from its fettering to a particular polis and is extended to the entirety of nature. Hereby the entire cosmos – the rationally ordered nature – appears as a comprehensive, lawfully structured city, i.e. as cosmopolis. On the one hand, the development of natural law is capable in this context of maintaining the downgrading of contingent ethos through the differentiation between nomos and physis. On the other hand, it grants the character of nomos to physis herself in order to give it precedence as universal morality. The particular legal framework of the polis thereby measures up to the eternity of nature so long as it adequately regionalizes the universal morality of nature. The crisis of the polis leads to the notion of a moral cosmopolitanism against which the nomos of the city must be measured. Christianity could also adhere to such a natural law. Admittedly, it had to meet – in particular in its Augustinian formulation3 – the important stricture that the laws of natural order cannot be known directly by human reason. This is because the divine principles of order remain hidden from human beings who are separated from God through the fall from grace. Still, the idea of creation allows to preserve the nomos of nature. For, the divine order of the world according to measure, number, and weight, grants nature lawfulness. Considered from a last point of view, nature inclines all created things towards an aim.4 The teleological order of nature remains thereby preserved in the understanding of creation. Humans must then orient themselves continually by the order of nature in order to obtain insights from it regarding the proper aims of their action. The Christian natural law, like the Stoic natural law is valid for all creatures. In this sense divine creation maintains the notion of a moral cosmopolitanism. Of course, it is at the same time bound up with the notion of its need for redemption and the danger of temptation by the Antichrist. It is only upon reservation and under great toil that the creatures of creation 2 Striker 1987; Forschner 1998. 3 Giradet 1995. 4 Krings, 1986.

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live as moral cosmopolitans. Like all nature, the cosmopolis of natural law which is grounded in the ordo divinus, awaits its fulfillment in the grace of god. The natural law of the Stoa and Christianity was only able to exist for as long as its foundation, the teleological concept of the world could exist as well. When an entity is no longer understood from its direction towards an end (causa finalis), but instead only with view to its effect (causa efficiens, in the German original), natural law is either also to be conceived in relation to efficient causality or to be relinquished. The implications of this are shown paradigmatically by Hobbes. According to Hobbes the fundamental efficient cause of human action is the pursuit of self-preservation. His concept of natural right is therefore determined by this efficient causality. Accordingly, there is only one sole natural right (jus naturale), the right to use one’s power according to the individual will for the sake of self-preservation (Leviathan, Section 1, Ch. 14). Yet, because this right leads to permitting the war of all against all in the advancement of individual self-preservation, the right to self-preservation remains unrealized as long as one continues in the natural state determined by it. Hobbes’ solution to this is known. One must, for the sake of one’s self-preservation, abandon the unimpeded advancement of one’s right and submit to the force of the state. State right springs therefore from the task of natural right. Because physis does not represent the cosmopolis but rather a war of all against all (bellum omnium contra omnes), its nomos requires annulment in an arbitrary human constitution. Consequentially, this is not subordinate to, but rather above the lawful (according to the German original) constitution of nature, since it first realizes the pacification demanded by the right to self-preservation. Hobbes’ departure from teleological nature and his accentuation of state power’s law enacting decisions has significantly determined thinking about natural law since.5 The edifice of a natural order is replaced by the starting point of the efficient causality of human action. However, one should not forget that elsewhere the teleological framework remained alive. On the one hand, politics continued to understand itself for a long time in the framework of philosophia practica, and was concerned with a teleologically constituted coexistence.6 From this perspective, the state represents a goal-oriented construct, which has to realize the good according to nature and not according to a decisional power-conglomerate. State laws serve this good. In another context, the Late Scholastics of Spain raised the notion of a teleologically configured statehood to its final heights. They outlined how the natural weakness of human beings (miseria hominum) leads to their coexistence in the interest of reciprocal service (mutua officia). According to this, laws exist with view to that human nature which is 5 Ilting 1983, p. 73ff. 6 Hennis 1963.

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created by God. Even after the Hobbesian turn, then, it could still be held that the nomos of physis does not necessarily yearn for its annulment in an arbitrary constitution, but that it may instead instruct a human constitution. According to this there are two lines of tradition for which the concept of natural right becomes topical for an approach viewing practical reason as grounded in human socialization. On one side stands the older tradition of a teleological cosmopolis of nature – developed by Christianity – by which human convictions about “good” and “bad” can orient themselves. On the other side stands the Hobbesian doctrine asserting that the sole right of nature is compelled to rise out of the state of nature into the civil state. Spinoza will oppose both sides equally on the grounds that both violate the immanence of human socialization by placing nature and society in opposition. Thus, Spinoza’s deliberations on natural and state right must – with the ancient problem of physis and nomos in the background – answer to both the living tradition of teleology and to Hobbes’ anti-teleological decisionism. This answer will nonetheless preserve something of both. From the teleological natural law it extracts the idea that human beings are already socialized by nature and thus already subject to law. From Hobbes it takes up the anti-teleological concentration of the right of nature on the pursuit of self-preservation. A starting point from which to bind the two is offered in developing a concept of power. III

Line of Argumentation

The line of argumentation in the second chapter proceeds in five steps. The first step identifies natural right with natural power (2/2–4). The second step applies this identification to the human being (2/5–8). The third step derives from this the fundamental legal relation among human beings (2/9–12). The fourth step poses the conditions of human socialization (2/13–17). And the fifth step shows that normativity exists only as socialized normativity (2/18–24). These five steps are now to be considered in detail. The first step consists in two arguments and an elucidation. The first argument (2/2) reads: (1) The power of an individual thing to begin and continue its existence cannot be deduced from its essence. (2) The power of an individual thing to begin and continue its existence cannot be deduced from the essence of other individual things. (3) Aside from individual things there is only their total nexus: God or Nature. (4) The power of an individual thing to begin and continue its existence is the power of God or of Nature.

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What lies behind the individual premises? Premise (1) rests upon the presupposition that what a particular being is – its “essence” – does not entail the fulfilment of its being. The expression of what an individual thing is only forms the ontological principle of this individual thing. Whether or not this principle is actually realized is an additional question. In other words, individual things do not themselves have power over their existence. They require an additional power in order to realize the construction, which lies formulated in their essence, in reality as well. Premises (2) and (3) now make statements about this necessitated, additional power. Premise (2) contains the negative statement that the additional power is not to be found in other individual things. The justification of this premise consist in the idea that in case the premise is invalid there is the risk of a regress. The question would arise for the added individual things: from where then do these derive their existence? If one were, for this purpose, to again make recourse to other individual things, the question would arise anew for these and so on and so forth. The additional power required for the realization of the principle of construction cannot, therefore, be found in other individual things. Still, for all that – and this is said in premise (4) – there are only individual things and their nexus. Spinoza names this nexus God or Nature. The nexus of things is not identical with the things. But neither is it so different from the individual things that it constitutes an individual thing on its own in a transcendent realm. Rather, it is that in which all individual things are found (E1 P15), exceeding them without grounding a separate world. It follows from premises (1), (2), and (3), finally, that it must be from the power of this nexus that the principle of construction for an individual thing can be realized. Spinoza had already described this in the Ethics: the fundamental nexus of things – God or Nature – is the reason for their existence, their causa prima (E1 P16). An individual thing’s power to enter into its existence and maintain itself therein is therefore the power of nature herself (or itself). In other words, the power of nature singularizes itself in the self-preservation of individual things. This acknowledges that the power of individual things can only be conceived as limitation of the power of nature. Individual power is always limited power within a nexus that exceeds the individuation of power. This insight into the peculiarity of individual power will reveal its consequences in Spinoza’s explanation of human socialization. The delineation of the first argument recalls the ontological foundations for everything else as it was developed in the Ethics. Upon these foundations, the second argument now deals with the concept of the right of nature. It proceeds as follows: (5) God or Nature has a right to all. (6) The right of God or of Nature is the power of God or the power of Nature.

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(7) The realization of individual things consists in their power to exist and to effect. (8) The power of the individual thing is an individuation of the power of God or Nature. (9) Each individual thing has as much right from Nature as it has power to exist and to effect. The introduction of the concept “right” in premise (5) comes as a surprise. How can that in which everything is and, as such, grounds everything, now also have a right? The answer lies in a particular concept of right. If we understand “the right to something” as stating that one must not tolerate contestation against what one does, it becomes clear why God possesses a right to all. God is determined as the total nexus of things and there can be no objection to that which brings about the total nexus of things. Everything that can be invoked against the total nexus of things finds itself within this total nexus and therefore does not present an objection. On these grounds, the right to everything can be ascribed to God or Nature. Premise (6) follows immediately from this, since the power of God consists in being the cause of everything that happens. If, as presented in premise (5), God also has the right to cause everything that happens, then God’s right and God’s power are not to be distinguished from one another. God has the right to everything within his power, which is precisely everything that happens. God’s right and God’s power coincide. Premise (7), in turn, explains what is meant by the realization of individual things through the power of God. The actuality of an individual thing consists in representing a link in the general chain of causes and effects. This is another one of the fundamental ontological assumptions that Spinoza develops in the Ethics: all individual things are effected by other individual things and themselves effect further individual things – they have causes and effects. It is in this way that the total nexus of individual things (according to the German original) comes to be; all existing things hang together or interrelate as causes and effects. The realization of an individual thing consists therefore, on the one hand, in its causation by other individual things, which is again ultimately caused by their total nexus – God or Nature – ; on the other hand it consists in the fact that the individual thing itself brings about effects. The power to effect is the realization of individual things. Premise (8) introduces the consequence of the first argument, that the power of individual things represents the power of God or Nature, insofar as this power individuates itself in each individual thing. Premise (9) then draws a conclusion from what has been said. If God’s power is his right and if the power of an individual thing to effect is an individuation of God’s power, then each individual thing has as much right as it has power. On the basis of this reciprocal reduction of the right and power of natural, individual things, Spinoza can now explain what natural right is (2/4).

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­ enceforth, the right of nature consists in nothing other than the power of H nature. The power of nature, in turn, shows its order in natural laws, i.e., in the rules according to which everything natural occurs. The laws of nature form therefore the order of natural right. They are the single propositions of right because they are the propositions in which the power of nature can be formulated. And the natural right of an individual thing is henceforth nothing other than its power according to natural law. The sphere of natural right and the sphere of natural power are therefore coextensive. The identification of natural right and natural power is now, in a second step, applied to human beings. Spinoza’s fundamental axiom here is that a human being does not represent a state within a state in nature (2/6). There are therefore determinations applicable to human beings that concern all natural things. Accordingly, a human being has also as much right from nature to exist and to effect as he has power to exist and to effect. And the natural propositions of right which underlie human action are also, in his case, the natural laws according to which every action occurs. Spinoza appeals to his central concept of self-preservation in order to more precisely determine this natural existence and effect of humans as it occurs according to the right of nature and its lawfulness (2/6). The pursuit of ­self-preservation is the natural being of a human being and occurs with as much right as it has power. In the Ethics Spinoza posited the pursuit of self-­ preservation as the core determination of all finite beings: “each thing, as far as it can by its own power, strives to persevere in its being” (E3 P6). There are two things to consider regarding this claim. First, the stipulation, each thing “strives”, implies that each thing does not possess fully the thing it strives for, but must endeavor to attain it. Whether or not its endeavor succeeds is in no way settled. It can also strive in vain. The limitation of an individual thing’s capacity lies in its striving. This limitation expresses a clause contained in the fundamental determination of an individual thing: “to the extent that it is within itself.” (quantum in se est). The thing can carry out its desire only as far as its capacity extends. It is only capable of persisting in its being to a certain degree. Things, therefore, do not simply persevere in their being but strive to do so. Secondly, the sentence states that each thing strives, to the extent that it is in itself, to “persevere in its being”. It is important here that this is not understood statically. The train of thought that follows the fundamental determination of an individual thing shows that the being, in which each individual entity strives to persevere, is characterized by the capacity to always produce more. The desire to persevere in its being is consequentially the desire to always be able to produce more. Expressed causally, this means to always effect more. An entity is capable of constantly effecting more when it increases its effective power. The desire to persevere in its being thus proves to be the desire to develop its

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capacity to effect. The pursuit of self-preservation is the endeavor to be able to effect more. And because all of the relations that a being can enter represent, in Spinoza’s conception, causal relations, increasing the capacity to effect is equal to increasing capacity more generally. In turn, the general capacity that a being possesses represents nothing other than its power (potentia). The desire for self-preservation is therefore a being’s desire for the assertion and development of its power. What has been said to this point is valid as the fundamental ontological determination for all beings. It is therefore valid for all human beings. Their being is also characterized by their desire for self-preservation and hence by their desire to assert and develop their power to do and to effect something. Yet, since the first step of the argument revealed that natural right and natural power are to be equated, it follows that the desire for self-preservation occurs with right and that it strives to increase the natural right of a human being. For by constituting the desire for the development of power, it is at the same time a desire for the development of right. All this applies undoubtedly in detail to what determines human beings in the great chain of nature, in their existence, and in their effects. There is no difference between effects that human beings accomplish through reason and those that they accomplish out of libidinal desire. This is because both – reason and drive – are natural determinations of humankind. Their effects are thereby both equally rightful. Spinoza formulates this by saying that a sage and a fool are both equally parts of nature (2/5). The irrational desire for self-preservation therefore has the right of nature on its side as well. This means, in turn, that nature’s propositions of right – the laws of nature – forbid nothing other than “what no one desires and no one can do” (2/8). For only what no one can do and no one desires is not an object of the desire for self-preservation and does not belong to the power of human beings and thus also not to their right. The third step draws conclusions from this for the relation of right between human beings. It follows from the equation of right and power that the relation of right between human beings is a power relation. One is subject to the right of another as long as he is subject to another’s power (2/9). A human being can be subject to the power of another in two respects, with regard to his body and with regatd to his mind. He is subject to the power of another either by being bound or made defenseless, or, by having fear or hope instilled in him (2/10). One is under his own power, on the other hand, when he can repel the power of another. This applies also to promises and contracts (2/12). They remain valid only as long as the one promising wishes to keep that promise. When one breaks a promise or contract, one does not do harm to right but rather exercises it. One’s right is indeed nothing other than one’s natural power. Yet a human being strives towards the development of his own right.

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His self-preservation is, as a development of his power, a development of his right not to be dominated by others. This fundamental structure of the human relation of right entails an important consequence (2/11). A further possibility for being subject to the right of another lies in the way one’s own capacity for judgment is influenced by another person. The mind is thus most often under its own right when its capacity for judgment occurs by its own force. However, we judge through our own force when our judgments prove themselves to be valid, in other words, when they are rational judgments which entail their cogency. A human being is therefore mostly subject to his own right, which is capable of articulating his judgments in the most rational way. To be subject to one’s own right – put otherwise, to strive towards one’s self-preservation through one’s own power – means to enact the necessary articulation of reason. Therein the development of power of the human being who strives for self-preservation, fulfills itself. All of this sounds like the ideal image of an isolated individual ruthlessly exercising its own power. Yet Spinoza shows now, in a fourth step, how the socialization of human beings likewise results naturally from the desire for self-preservation in conjunction with the meager power of each particular self-preserving being. The core idea is quite simple: the assembly of multiple human beings is capable of more than an individual human being. They have more power (according to the German original). One alone cannot successfully defend himself against a group of people and he must also do without the division of labor and intellectual education. Alone one would not even be able to speak. This is to say that as long as one remains alone, both the bare assertion and the development of his existence are denied to them. The more humans get together, the more power they will have (2/13). It follows from the fundamental equation of power and right that socialized human beings have more right than an isolated individual. From this Spinoza concludes that in a state which is free from all socialization, the right of a human being tends towards nil (2/15). One’s desire for the development of one’s own right has proved to be the meaning of the (according to the German original) pursuit of self-preservation. The human desire for self-preservation immediately then implies that human beings must coexist with other human beings in order to possess any actual power whatsoever. Only together with other human beings can they do what they are capable of: from surviving the first years towards life in a complex, differentiated society. According to this, they only possess actual power, which is to say right, when they form a common power with others and this common power grants them as well space for the realization of their own pursuits (2/16). This means that they live together on ontological grounds and not on the grounds of a decision of the will, a rational choice, or an imaginary transcendence of our natural being. In other words, because of his desire for

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self-preservation a human being is always already socialized. “If for this reason the Scholastics want to say that a human being is a social animal […] I have no objection against them” (2/15). The union of humans – which, since without it no human being would possess effective power, has always already taken place – signifies thus an increase of power for the individual. As a socialized human being he can do more, significantly more than one who lives alone and who, as such, may as well be capable of nothing. As a member of a multitude of individuals, one profits from their capabilities, which extend from the outer protection of one’s life to the communication of knowledge or the satisfaction of comfort. At the same time, however, there is a loss of power connected with the merging of individuals (2/16). For the union of individuals demands that the latter do not act according to their own discretion, but rather that they coordinate their actions with one another. Individuals are only able to coordinate their actions when they delegate their decisions regarding what is allowed and what to forbear to the entirety of the united individuals. These decisions can occur through explicit statutes and laws or through implicit features expressed in a people’s way of life. Whatever the case, the union of individuals leads to a restriction of arbitrary exercise of power. One who is part of a union must renounce his power to decide alone what is allowed and not allowed and grant this power to the multitude of individuals. The power of the multitude (potentia multitudnis) is therefore the power upon which the coexistence of human beings and the right of individuals are grounded. The government (imperium) – with its right to issue, interpret, and abolish laws – rests upon this power of the multitude (2/17). The natural socialization of human beings has thus resulted from the equation of natural right and natural power. It leads to a power increase of the individual by way of a limitation of its uncontrolled power. In a last step, Spinoza shows how the concept of normativity is to be conceived on this foundation. Spinoza’s concept for actions that contradict norms is “sin” (2/18). With the term “sin” he understands actions that do not occur with right. “Sin” thus presupposes a norm against which the action may be done. Such actions can only occur in a socialized state. The argument is apparent: (1) Natural right and natural power are the same. (2) All actions which occur, occur from the power of the agent. (3) All actions which occur, occur with right. Therefore, all actions naturally ensue with right. However, this is not Spinoza’s final word. For the natural pursuit of power occurs in the form of the human socialization. Socialization increases the power of the individual by subjecting the latter to the power of the multitude. Within the framework of socialization, certain actions are not in accordance with the power of the multitude and are

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suppressed by it – if need be through punishment. The rules of the multitude’s power establish thereby a norm by which the action of individuals can be measured. It should be noted that this measure also remains a natural measure of natural action. Indeed, it follows from the natural socialization of human beings. Yet, it also follows that one is henceforth capable of ­differentiating ­between diverse rights to determined actions. Rightful (according to the German original) actions are the actions corresponding to the right that is established by the power of the multitude. Therefore sin can be well conceived in the framework of socialization. (2/19). This means that normativity, against which one may act, arises from the establishment of right through the power of the multitude. There are no arrangements of norms prior to this. Even the conceptual pair of “just” and “unjust” has meaning only in the framework of socialization (2/23). For only in this framework is one able to ask whether or not things are justly arranged. Without reference to the establishment of norms by the power of the multitude, which represents a natural limitation of the individual’s natural power, every order of things would rightfully exist. The question regarding their justness would be in this case devoid of sense. All normativity is, therefore, the product of human socialization. Human socialization occurs above all through affects. The affects of joy and sorrow are important directive variables for that establishment of normativity which is enacted by the power of the multitude. They correspond to the hope of a better life in the framework of socialized normativity and the fear of punitive measures (2/24). What then remains to reason when considering the power of affects? It is a reason that asserts itself as reason in affects. This means that the normativity established in the socialisation process by the power of the multitude makes the socialized individual act “as if led by one mind” (2/16 and 2/21). For the motives of individuals for or against particular actions are the same for each individual: the rules – implicit or explicit – of that normativity. Yet the multitude acts as if led by a single mind only when the normativity of its society is rational. The normativity of a society is rational when it uses general structures of affectivity ascertainable in rational regularities and does not build upon irregular, arbitrary, or inconsistent levels of affect. However, only by way of the inclusion of general structures of affects which extend beyond irregular, partial instantiations is the normativity of a society able to attain general validity. Social normativity thus needs reason in the affects in order that men act “as if led by one mind”. This is not to say that the establishment and observance of norms is not motivated by affects. It is to say, rather, that the normativity includes reason insofar as it uses general structures of affectivity. Therefore, Spinoza can say that an action against the normativity of the society is an action against reason and, in this figurative sense, a sin (2/21).

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Laws

During the course of argumentation, natural right has been both expanded and disempowered. It has experienced expansion in the sense that all actions occur with natural right. It had to accept its disempowerment in being capable of (almost) nothing in opposition to state right. State right is the right that the government which is sustained by the power of the multitude issues. Natural right offers no corrections to state right because the conditions of the state are required to pose the question as to whether or not state right is good or bad. The state is the authority that is upheld by the power of socialization and the power of socialization is the power that establishes normativity in the first place. Thus, there is no natural right which is opposed to state right, but only socialization’s play of power which sustains the state. In short, nature is no longer a cosmopolis whose nomos would offer orientation to the state. What remains of the right of nature are the conditions, determined by natural law, under which socialization’s play of power takes place. Spinoza has hereby converted the right of nature from a body of prescriptive propositions into a body of descriptive propositions.7 Thereby, the concept of a proposition of right is transformed as well: the concept of law. With law Spinoza understands – again, entirely descriptive – something according to which each individual of a particular group acts in the same manner (Theological-Political Treatise, ttp 4). This general concept encompasses two classes of law. One class contains the laws whereby the manner in which the individual acts is dependent upon the necessity of nature. The individual’s way of acting follows in this case from the nature of reality. Examples of such laws are the laws of movement for bodies and the laws of association for thinking. They are the laws of nature. The other class contains the laws whereby the manner in which the individual acts is up to other human beings. Here the individual’s way of acting follows human stipulations. Examples of such laws are all human institutions of regulated modes of life. They are the laws of society. Now, everything can be conceived from the perspective of the general laws of nature, including human institutions. This is because everything is included in the total nexus of entities, i.e., nature. The laws of the first category thereby regulate all events that take place. There is, however, still room for the second conception of law. This is because, in the first place, the institutions regulating modes of life via humankind is nothing else than the exercise of the natural power of humans. As a consequence, the fact that humans prescribe laws to one another can be conceived of according to natural law, which is to say, in the framework of ­natural socialization, as Spinoza has derived it from the d­ esire for 7 Walther 1986.

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self-­preservation. And, in the second place, we must clarify things by way of their proximate cause within the context regulated by natural law. The proximate cause of the natural event, that a human being acts in such and such a way in human society, consists in the fact that his actions are determined by particular rules of society. Not only does the second conception of law therefore not violate the general validity of the first conception, it is also necessary for the purpose of offering an explanation of human action. Spinoza specifies this second concept of law further by way of the concept of command. A command is the mode of living (ratio vivendi) that human beings prescribe to themselves and others for the sake of a particular purpose (ttp 4). The identification of the law as a mode of living alludes back to the oldest figure of the nomos which understood the law as form of life shaped by habit.8 Spinoza also understands law fundamentally as form of life. Its purpose consists in the security of life and the political order. Commands, and thus all state laws, establish modes of living in the interest of security for both individuals and the community. This purpose need not be obvious. Neither the one commanding nor the ones obeying need to know that the law exists for the sake of the security of life and the political order. They may also view it from another perspective, for example, as embodiment of freedom, as tradition to be recognized, or as sheer compulsion. It is enough that they grasp the law as a command and obey it, be it of fear or of hope. For it is then ensured that a particular group of individuals act in the same manner and that the law remains effective. Independently of the point of view of the agents, the actual purpose of the law remains the security of life and the political order. This is because it follows from the desire for self-preservation. Striving towards self-­ preservation, which determines the socialization of humans, imbues it with its meaning, i.e., to secure one’s own life in a stable political order. Consequentially, the laws that human beings prescribe to one another receive their function from self-preservation in the framework of socialization. This contains an important consequence for the foundation of laws. We saw that insight into the driving force of socialization allows the described purpose of laws to be known. In the face of this purpose, the official purposes of laws, to the extent that they deviate from it, reveal themselves as semblance. At the same time their semblance is not arbitrary, but is itself explainable by way of the determining forces of socialization. All the stirrings of a human being are part of the single nexus of nature. Therefore, it is also valid for the semblance of official purposes to say that fear and hope, regardless of their object, are the strongest driving forces of human beings. Fear and hope thereby determine human socialization in all of their manifestations, and not only in their 8 Heinimann 1945; Pohlenz 1965.

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r­ ational variations. They also produce semblances. In a concrete sense, this means that official purposes are based upon the hopes and fears of human beings for whose sake human modes of life are established. Their semblance is therefore a necessary one: ideology.9 The conversion of natural right into a body of descriptive propositions enables therefore a different concept of law as well as the seed of a critique of ideology. Both are correlated with the concept of power. We saw that Spinoza’s ontology of social being grasps the coexistence of human beings as that part of the natural order, which is shaped by the power of the multitude. This power also upholds the authority that expressly guides our coexistence: the state. The state regulates individuals’ power for acting by dictating what is collectively held as permissible and impermissible for individuals. The relation of the individual’s loss of power to the state consists in the fact that the individual’s ratio vivendi is not directed by himself but by the power of the state. We have, therefore, within the mediation of power in human coexistence, a power institutionalized by right and constitution. This is the power of state authority (potestas), which effects through established laws that the state’s citizens live in a particular way and not at individual discretion. For its part, however, the state is dependent upon the multitude of citizens following its laws. In truth, then, it is the multitude that maintains state laws by living in a manner that conforms to them. Upon closer examination, the imbalance of power appears reversed. In the final analysis, the power of state authority, and indeed the power of every state authority, including that of the monarchy, rests upon the power of the multitude.10 Potestas is based on potentia multitudinis. Each semblance of official purpose is therefore both a sign of state sovereignty as well as a sign of the power of the multitude (according to the German original). It can integrate the power of the multitude by obscuring the true nature of laws – to serve self-preservation and thus the self-development of citizens – but it also testifies to this power because it rests upon their hopes and fears. To summarize: The right of nature should provide an answer to the question as to how the contingent order of right required for coexistence can be maintained in respect of the eternity of nature which one is to live with in harmony. Spinoza’s transformation of natural right from the norm of the cosmopolis to the natural regularity of causal relations also transforms the answer. It now reads: the state’s contingent order of right maintains itself before the order of nature in being nothing other than a sub-division of this order. Its normativity is conceived from its functionality within the foundational chain of natural socialization. However, one can then ask, how it is that state right 9 10

Hecker 1975. Hindrichs 2006.

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can still be measured against natural right? The answer is clear: solely by way of its functionality. State right is within the right of nature precisely when it ­functions. When it does not function, it loses the natural right. That sounds like a positivism of power. This is because the function of right is, according to what has been said, a function of power, i.e., and that means in the context of the state (according to the German original) a function of state dominion. State sovereignty therefore has the right of nature on its side precisely when it is capable of self-preservation. Within the Spinozian framework there is nothing to quibble about here. Yet, it must not be forgotten that the basis of state dominion is the power of the multitude. And with this it is decided that the function of state sovereignty is only guaranteed when it is capable of consolidating the power of the multitude. It follows from this that it is up to socialized humans which state laws entail the right of nature and which are not. Thus it is not simply state sovereignty, which exists with the right of nature so long as it exists; also all self-determinations of socialized humans occur with the right of nature up to revolution if successful. In viewing the power of the multitude as the determining factor of human coexistence, Spinoza’s idea of socialization is directed both against the Late Scholastic view of natural law as well as against the doctrine of Thomas Hobbes. It resists the tradition of a natural, teleological cosmopolis that would direct human persuasions about “good” and “bad” by the fact that nature, conceived of as a nexus of causal relations, only exhibits normativity where it occurs as socialization. And it resists the Hobbesian doctrine, that the sole natural right compels to overcome the state of nature in the civil state, by suggesting that the civil state is nothing other than the natural process of socialization. One should not leave the state of nature: this is the decisive difference from Hobbes (Letter L).11 Yet, the state of nature as such does not offer normativity: this is the decisive difference from the late Scholastics. Normativity first emerges from within the effectuation of socialization. V

Man of His Own Right

The identification of power and right comprehends normativity as a result of the mediation of power within human socialization. The concepts of “good” and “bad” therefore only have meaning within society. Consequentially, practical reason with which humans determine their action is also a capability that only has meaning within human socialization. At its core, practical reason is socialized reason. 11

See also Den Uyl 1983, p. 146ff.

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If this is the case, however, how can practical reason be anything other than a heteronomous function within a comprehensive nexus? Human socialization does not lie in the power of individuals. It occurs through the power of the multitude. The practical reason of individuals is therefore also determined by the power of the multitude. It appears that, because of this, it is unable to follow its own rules, following instead the rules of a superordinate power. In short, it is subject to a foreign regulation. According to Spinoza’s identification of power and right, autonomy – the regulation of the self – no longer seems attainable. This certainly threatens the concept of practical reason since the latter as the determinative foundation for action, wishes to review the grounds for and against any particular action. It demands to pursue the validity of these grounds, not to subordinate itself to a foreign power that does not have this validity as its aim, but which is directed towards the facticity of its self-preservation. To deny this aspiration of practical reason would amount to canceling it out. As sheer heteronomous function it would not be practical reason but rather a transmission belt of facts. Spinoza’s foundation of practical reason thus appears to destroy its concept. Yet, the heteronomy concluded from the insight that practical reason is socialized reason is premature. Spinoza certainly cannot concede that the individual’s power to act – which occurs as practical reason – is anything more than an element of the multitude’s power. It is subject in a definitive manner to the power which makes the concepts of “good” and “bad” at all meaningful in the first place. But at the same time, the individual’s power is capable of developing, within the power of the multitude, in such a way that it remains its own power and does not degenerate into an appendage of foreign power. To be able to think this, Spinoza must link the dependence of individual power upon the multitude’s power to its independence. If this connection does not succeed, practical reason remains without foundation. Spinoza’s starting point in making this necessary connection is the concept of “man of his own right” (homo sui iuris) (2/9–11). This is an old legal concept of right.12 It stems from Roman law and designates the position of Roman citizens within the family. The man of his own right is a man who is not subject to any paternal power (potestas patria). In contrast to this, a man of foreign right (homo alieni iuris) is a man that stands either in manu or in mancipio of a pater familias. Such men of foreign power could not possess any assets. ­Under private law they were considered dependent. Their position under public law, however, remained intact. Even if one were a homo alieni iuris, he was capable of attaining the highest offices. Spinoza transforms this conceptual pair found in private law – men of their own right and men of foreign 12

Menzel 1929, p. 306ff.

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Wright – into a c­ onceptual pair concerning human relations of right as a whole. In the third step of reasoning we saw that, for Spinoza, a man of his own right is someone who can maintain himself against being encroached by other human beings and, correspondingly, that a man of foreign right is a man that is exposed to the power of other human beings. With the concept of own and foreign right, dependence and independence are therefore addressed.13 It now appears to follow from his doctrine of the power of the multitude that no one is capable of being a man of his own right. A human being can survive, speak, develop oneself according to the principle of the division of labour only by being dependent upon the power of the multitude determining human socialization. Further, within human society, human beings are exposed to foreign encroachment to such a degree that even the assumptions about “good” and “bad” determining their action are constituted by the normativity of society. Yet, it is outside of human society that a human being stands all the more under foreign right. For there he is delivered wholly over to foreign power without protection. We have seen that, at the same time, the socialization of humans increases individual power. They are able to do more when they allow themselves to be determined by the power of the multitude than they can in isolation. Therefore, it follows from the identification of power and right that socialization increases the right of individuals. This means that although the individual is dependent upon the power of the multitude, he is a man of his own right to a greater degree than an isolated human being would be. This is not a logical trick following from the premises of the argumentation. In fact, one can see concretely that, through the order of right, a socialized human being is capable of self-defense against the encroachments of his fellow citizens. Because humans regulate their coexistence through the normativity of state laws, they are able to protect the individual’s sphere of right. This sphere of right indeed remains dependent upon the power of the multitude whose laws establish it. However, it simultaneously shields individuals from encroachments by other humans. It is in this way that dependence upon the power of the multitude is also capable of increasing individual power. In other words, the man of foreign right can be a man of his own right provided that the foreign right to which he is subject secures him a subjective right in relation to other subjects of right. The normativity of society not only exercises power over the individual. It grants him power as well. As a man of one’s own right one is capable of exercising practical reason. He can weigh the validity of reasoning for or against a particular action in the framework of his sphere of right (according to the German original) which is 13

Balibar 1985, p. 72ff.

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granted to him by the normativity of society. This can have differing degrees. It can go so far that a human being, through the various stages of knowledge (E2 P40S2), acquires a rational insight into the general structures of the nexus within which he stands. He is then capable of carrying out actions within his circle of right with reasons that grasp the sense of these actions within the entire nexus. The individual becomes in this case homo sui iuris in the complete sense: he is capable of devel­oping so much power that he must no longer bow to the supremacy of the entire nexus, becoming instead a part of it. To be sure, even here the man of his own right does not become a self-empowered man. He remains subject to what can befall him within the framework of the entire nexus. But he can recognize what can befall him and orient his practice with this in mind. In this way he does not relinquish his power but rather develops it to the greatest possible extent. Such a man of his own right is free in the complete sense, as Spinoza contends in the fifth section of the Ethics, without expressly making use of the concept of right. But to show this is no longer the task of political philosophy. It is the task of ethics, which concerns individuals. In the framework of the political, the individual’s practical reason remains limited to filling out the sphere of right which societal normativity grants him. Attempting to expand these spheres of right already makes the individual more dependent upon the power of others. Such an attempt – the alteration of state laws – can only succeed when it orients itself by society’s play of power. The individual’s practical reason is then determined by foreign power, and thereby foreign right, and the validity of reasoning is not the sole criterion for action. All political action exhibits the following tension: the rational foundation of action must combine itself with conformity to relations of power. Therefore, the one who wishes to evade this heteronomy of practical reason has to abstain from the political act. For the wise man’s relation to politics this means that he must recognize himself as one who has been granted a determinate sphere of right by the normativity of society, who has no higher normativity with which to oppose this normativity, and who, for the sake of practical reason, seeks to remain in his sphere of right. In this way the wise man, as well as the unwise, is only a homo sui iuris within socialized power. Neither can separate themselves entirely from the limits imposed by life’s befalling. Therefore, the limit is always to be worked on.14 This idea of intellectual modesty and political renunciation forms the last conclusion of his definition of natural and state right. “Caute!”, reads the exhortation on Spinoza’s seal. 14

DeBrabander 2007, p. 127ff.

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Bibliography Balibar, Étienne (1985): Spinoza et la politique. Paris. DeBrabander, Firmin (2007): Spinoza and the Stoics: Power, Politics, and the Passions. London. Den Uyl, Douglas J. (1983): Power, State, and Freedom. An Interpretation of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy. Assen. Forschner, Maximilian (1998): Κοινὸς νόμος – lex naturalis. Stoisches und christliches Naturgesetz. In: id.: Über das Handeln im Einklang mit der Natur. Grundlagen ethi­ scher Verständigung. Darmstadt, pp. 5–30. Girardet, Klaus Martin (1995): Naturrecht und Naturgesetz – eine gerade Linie von Cicero zu Augustinus? In: Rheinisches Museum für Philologie N. F. 138, pp. 266–298. Hecker, Konrad (1975): Gesellschaftliche Wirklichkeit und Vernunft in der Philosophie Spinozas. Untersuchungen über die immanente Systematik der Gesellschaftsphilosophie Spinozas im Zusammenhang seines philosophischen Gesamtwerks. Regensburg. Heinimann, Felix (1945): Nomos und Physis. Herkunft und Bedeutung einer Antithese im griechischen Denken des 5. Jahrhunderts. Basel. Hennis, Wilhelm (1963): Politik und praktische Philosophie. Eine Studie zur Rekonstruktion der politischen Wissenschaft. Neuwied. Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.) (2006): Die Macht der Menge. Über die Aktualität einer Denk­ figur Spinozas. Heidelberg. Hobbes, Thomas (1946): Leviathan or the Matter, Forme, and Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiastical and Civil. Edition Oakeshott. Oxford. Ilting, Karl-Heinz (1983): Naturrecht und Sittlichkeit. Begriffsgeschichtliche Studien. Stuttgart. Krings, Hermann (1986): Ordo. Historisch-systematische Grundlegung einer abendländischen Idee. Hamburg. Menzel, Adolf (1929): Beiträge zur Geschichte der Staatslehre. Wien und Leipzig. Platon (1959): Gorgias. Edition Dodds. Oxford. Pohlenz, Max (1965): Nomos und Physis. In: Ders.: Kleine Schriften II. Hildesheim, pp. 341–360. Striker, Gisela (1987): Origins of the Concept of Natural Law. In: Proceedings of the Boston Area Colloquium in Ancient Philosophy 2, pp. 79–101. Walther, Manfred (1986): Die Transformation des Naturrechts in der Rechtstheorie Spinozas. In: Der Staat 25, pp. 55–78.

Spinoza’s Theory of Sovereignty (TP, Chapter 3, §§ 1–10) Oliver W. Lembcke The third chapter of the Political Treatise is dedicated to state sovereignty. The hierarchical structure of state sovereignty differs fundamentally from the hierarchical, interrelated natural rights of individuals. From the combination of individual capabilities arises the power of the multitude (potential multitudinis), owner of the highest authority, which is nevertheless rarely able to act as a mass. The multitude attains its capacity to act only in the “Commonwealth” (3/1). Spinoza deals with the preliminaries and consequences of this in the first ten sections of the third chapter. Together these passages form the core of his general theory of sovereignty. Adjoined to this – also in the third chapter – are Spinoza’s remarks on the relationship between sovereign states. However, these belong to Spinoza’s conception of international law and are therefore not included in this commentary.1 I

State Sovereignty (§1)

Georg Jellinek, in his well-known triad, lists the elements constituting the state: state territory, the constitutive body of people, and state authority. Spinoza determines the ingredients for political association in a similar way in speaking of state administration, the “established practices” lying in the “transactions of the state”, of “citizens”, who are also “subjects”, and of the “commonwealth”, whose connection is directed less at territory than at society. Such a vocabulary, like Jellinek’s doctrine of three elements, remains empty, conceptual acrobatics unless a criterion illustrates the difference between the political order, called commonwealth or state – in Spinoza’s metaphysics the “body of the state” – and other forms of communities. For this reason, Spinoza presents the concept of sovereignty as a differentium specificum: the state, bearing in mind its fundamental purpose which is determined in advance as peace (1/7), lays claim to binding decisions regarding commonality and additionally, as distinct from other societal forms of organization, has at its disposal the 1 To this end see Tilmann Altwicker’s contribution to this volume.

© koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004396944_005

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means to carry out this demand.2 Hence, its function is essentially dependent upon its effectiveness in providing society with a lasting structure in the form of a “commonwealth” and in striving to maintain this. The beneficiary of state authority is the “citizen” (civis), who is relieved of concerning himself with daily survival, a concern that would otherwise plague him endlessly in the lawless state of nature.3 Via the state goals of peace and security, citizens stand in a double relation to the state. The state’s functional capacity, a power which always increases with an increase in societal harmony, emerges from the bond of each citizen to the general citizenship.4 At the same time, the organization and coordination of the state, which guarantee peace, presuppose relations ordered by law which the citizens obey. The state’s functional capacity longs for compliance because its effectiveness can only be enforced within limits. When other motives do not have the desired effect, the threat of penalty – in order to motivate the citizens/subjects through the imagination of appropriate sanctions and the fear to obey laws triggered thereby – is an effective means for motivating adherence to the law. Further, the secured orientation made possible by this for the pursuit of each citizen’s respective plan of action is brought to the attention of all citizens as being in the interest of their self-preservation. The majority of citizens must be more or less righteous without question. Otherwise, the commonwealth cannot exist as a community bound by law (civitas) and would degenerate into despotism. The legality constituted by the state as “law of the supreme authority” is faced by the absolute obligation of the citizen, as “subject” (subditus), “to obey […] established practices or laws”. To be a citizen always means to be subjected to law – and to be subject in that sense. The two roles are firmly coupled with one another: Citizens can derive the benefits of belonging to a community bound by law when they practice obedience to the law for their own well-being.5

2 The doctrine of the state-form differentiates the forms of organization for political sovereignty. Yet none of these forms dispense with supreme authority and its power to direct. On the different forms of state, see the contributions in this volume on monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. 3 On this point see detailed commentary in § 3. 4 Transl.: The bond of citizens to citizenship is a necessary one insofar as each citizen plays a role in the notion of citizenship that constitutes the state or commonwealth. In German, the minor word play between Bürger and Bürgerschaft displays this clearly, the latter constituting something like the essence of the former. 5 As distinct from slaves, those subjects of right – as citizens! – are not instrumentalized (solely) to the benefit of the sovereign. On this see the study of Rice 1978 as well as Den Uyl 1983, p. 89ff.

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Forms of Power (§ 2)

Considered soberly, the individual has nearly no other choice than to obey the law. People’s bond to the multitude within a civil order creates a situation – a new situation when compared with the state of nature – in which the individual surely remains in possession of his natural right (2/15), though this can hardly be effectively employed against (majoritarian) organized power. These rights exist only to the extent that the individual power underlying rights is sufficient to assert its claim against opposition. The natural rights supported by the power of the individual are thus “more opinion” than reality (2/15). They suffer additionally from their inability to offer an equivalent for the security promised by membership to the state community. The larger and more peaceable the multitude, the more far-reaching its power and thus the right that is created by it. Its potentia multitudinis corresponds therefore to the “powerless” natural right of the individual: Analogous to its situation in the state of nature, the (supreme) right emerges “naturally” from the capability which, in this case, however, results from the bond of the individual to a plurality. This synthetic character makes the multitude potentially an irresistible (collective) agent whose reality only emerges in exceptional cases. An example found repeatedly in history is that of the people who defend themselves against a tyrannical ruler and restore the old order through rebellion or create a new order through revolution. Such cases are exemplary displays of the profusion of power which nothing and no one can defy and against which no “higher” right can be posed. If the multitude itself (the people, the masses) appears as agent, the potentia multitudinis unites with the suprema potestas. For a brief historical moment it is itself the order-instilling authority that, since the time of the French Revolution, bears the name pouvoir constituant.6 The French Revolution nonetheless also provides examples of the dangers springing from this sort of revolutionary authority. Spinoza certainly does not confound potentia and potestas. To the contrary, for him it comes down to the differentiation relevant to the theory of sovereignty. Sovereignty “resides” (Hegel) in the potentia multitudinis. It forms the source of that right of supreme authority lying in the hands of the state (2/17). In order to be able to act effectively, the unity generally lacking in the multitude’s plurality is given permanence through the structure of state institutions. The civil state is thus 6 Walther 1993 indicates the parallel between potentia multitudinis and pouvoir constituant, p. 53. For more detail regarding the theory of pouvoir consituant in the framework of political thinking from Sieyès, to which the concept as well as the differentiation from pouvoir constitué essentially leads back, see Lembcke/Weber 2010. For a current account in the discourse of modern political theory see Saar 2006 and Reitz in this volume.

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the potentia multitudinis in action, with the primary aim of coordinating the social dynamic through laws and other legal provisions. At its core, the directive power [potestas], generally conferred in the form of administrative bodies and their responsibilities, is constituted less by coercive force (which is only deployed as ultima ratio) and more by a directive power with which the plurality of citizens can and should orient themselves and their respective abilities (potentia). For Spinoza, this interplay of potentia and potestas is significant in a particular way.7 He attains a realistic perspective on the genesis of the state, as well as on the emergence and development of the sovereign political power necessary to the state, from the narrow referential context in which both forms of power stand.8 The following aspects of this context serve as an illustration of the dialectic structure: (i) Promotion and limitation of potentia through potestas. As already indicated, the potestas of state action functions as a directing power regarding citizens as they deal with their own possibilities and abilities. The state can attempt to influence these dealings by two types of sanctions. First, by way of incentive, by promoting abilities conducive to common welfare or the interest in their development; second, through penalty, by hindering abilities and interests detrimental to common welfare through sanction-enforced prohibitions. Through the implementation of this instrumentalism, the state’s directive power can succeed in coordinating social interaction in terms of general welfare and in setting effective incentives for social cooperation.9 Success in meeting this challenge remains fundamentally open, but it depends in a more than trivial manner upon the adeptness of state action (for instance, the quality of legislation), and therefore upon the ability of political leadership. Employed in this way, its potestas is again a potentia revealing itself as seminal for the qualitative dimension of a commonwealth’s development. (ii) Promotion and limitation of potestas through potentia. The supreme authority of the commonwealth, suprema potestas, does not itself represent any fixed size.10 Spinoza has tied the validity of law [Rechtsgeltung], including each of the sovereign’s rules and decisions, to the legal effectiveness, because ­legality – in the sense of the rule of law – is essentially concerned with man-made ordinances [Anordnungen] and not with laws of nature or ­divine

7 8 9 10

For a more detailed account of the constitutive and relational character of Spinoza’s concept of power, see Lembcke 2012, in particular p. 93f, and Saar 2013, p. 137ff. On the interplay of both forms of power see Terpstra 1994 as well as the section on political authority in Den Uyl, pp. 80–90. Cf. Walther 2011, pp. 222–225. This notion has been elaborated as a Spinoza-inspired approach to legal theory in Walther 2004. As little as does the potentia multidudinis; cf. Balibar 1998, p. 71.

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c­ ommand, which no one can oppose or withdraw from.11 In the realm of human practice resistance belongs conceptually to law. In a famous dictum generally ascribed to Spinoza, it is aptly put as such (for instance, with Hugo Preuss or Hermann Heller): “Obedience constitutes the sovereign”.12 The source, therefore, from which the sovereign summons its position of power as well as its ­legal authority, namely the potentia multitudinis – metaphorically speaking – is at once the place where the suprema potestas finds its limit.13 It should be kept in mind, however, that this limit, as well as sovereignty itself, cannot be determined unequivocally. Because the power of the multitude is marked by varying intensity,14 the limits here are not only fluid, they can also be (and often will be) shaped and influenced by political leadership in a sort of fictitious anticipation of the (powerful) unity of potentia multitudinis. Spinoza’s velutiformula (“as if led by one mind”) brings this complex dialectic to expression. A commonwealth with the following characteristics has at its command a type of powerful unity that moves the state into a position to optimize the development of differing potentialities and to maximally increase societal cooperation: (i) reason rules thereby making the community conceive of itself as a community bound by law; (ii) social conflict is pacified by a minimum of state coercion; (iii) political decisions are accepted and implemented as legally binding for everyone. However, this sort of unity is “fictitious”15 on the grounds of the affect-based human nature. As Spinoza’s argumentation in the second part of the Political Treatise (cf. 2/15–16) has already clarified, the state and its capacity are called upon to create a legal commonwealth with the effect that individuals can enjoy their natural rights. But, if rational laws instruct citizens to become reasonable, where, then, do these rational laws come from?16 This question refers to a paradox that seems to surface in the context of found­ational discourses of political orders time and again.17 Spinoza’s notion of politics, at least in the Political Treatise, nevertheless renounces such fictional ­foundations 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

The concept of law is discussed by Spinoza in more detail in the fourth chapter of the Political-Theological Treatise (ttp 4); cf. Ferez 2007, p. 225ff. On the positive laws of “higher right” specifically, see Belaief 1971, Ch. iv. Preuss 1921, p. 157 and passim; also cf. Heller 1927, p. 57. Both refer to the formula oboedientia facit imperantem, which, however, one does not find used in this way by Spinoza. Spinoza cites Seneca’s Troades in the Political-Theological Teastise: “no one continues a violent rule for long” (ttp 5). From this perspective, sovereignty is only a potentia ordinata and not a potentia absoluta; cf. Hindrichs 2006, p. 25. Not every civil order rules in the manner that ancient Rome did, more than a thousand years across the world. Bartuschat 2010, p. xxvi. On this see the famous passage in Rousseau’s Social Contract (2002, p. 182): “[M]en should be, prior to the laws, what they ought to become by means of them”. On the paradox of the political see Honig 2009, pp. 12–39.

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as that of the societal contract, favoring instead an evolutionary perspective in which human coexistence is always already (politically) organized. It is in this sense that the veluti is to be understood as a description of the task of politics.18 The formula “as if led by one mind” indicates that the state must care for the general framework that motivates men to act as if it was the proper aim of their action to coordinate it with the action of all others while, de facto, they act each time with a view to their respective interests. This sort of politics would anticipate the unity of the multitude – and its power – which would only actually develop under common laws. In comparison with the two collective actors, people/masses and state/ government, the citizens’ balance according to the theory of sovereignty is sobering, at least upon first glance. Towards the end of the second paragraph Spinoza clearly and frankly states the following: Everyone only has those rights conceded to him by the commonwealth and the less rights the individual members of the community have, the more power the commonwealth has. This arises conclusively from the coupling of right and enforcement of the law and can hardly be understood otherwise than as a renunciation of political sovereignty’s normative moderation through natural rights. The relationship between natural rights and state sovereignty is still to be separately investigated. It is initially sufficient here to recognize that Spinoza breaks with the traditional thinking of natural right.19 External claims that do not arise from practice itself run the risk of presenting an “empty ought” (Hegel). The moderation of sovereign authority – one may choose to summarize Spinoza’s position in this way – must emerge from the contexts of political domination itself. As has been seen, the decisive source of state sovereignty is the unity of the citizenry that, in turn, cannot be permanently secured but by way of coexistence’s rational regulation. With these considerations Spinoza anticipates, at least to a certain extent, a distinction standing at the center of Hannah Arendt’s political thinking, namely, between power and violence.20 For Spinoza, a “powerful” commonwealth does not rest upon violence and despotism, but rather upon the laws of a civitas, a community bound by law not compatible with its citizens’ being without rights and protections, either theoretically or historically. Considered in this way, saying that each only has the rights conceded to him by the commonwealth loses its dour tone. The emphasis here is that constituting the commonwealth as legal community does not permit of any special rights 18

19 20

It would be a misunderstanding to take Spinoza’s veluti-formula as a presumptive attribution. It does not belong to the field of normative claims, but marks instead a theoretical program that commits itself to the possibilities of fathoming rational potentialities under particular conditions (cf. 7/2). Tuck 1979 provides a substantial overview of a characteristic notion of natural right. Arendt 1970.

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or privileges that stand outside of the commonwealth and could be asserted against it as the expression of particular interests. III

Community Bound by Law (§§ 3–5)

In the following three paragraphs (3/3–5) the functional logic of political sovereignty is more closely determined. This takes place in a triad whereby the description is guided by moments of sovereign decision-making typically occurring in a civitas, in the form of a juridical command [Rechtsbefehl]: First explicated is the “logic of the commonwealth”, which finds its expression, at the level of legislation, in the generality of law (§ 3). Spinoza then considers the application of law (§ 4), before taking up the theme of obedience to the law anew and discussing the challenge of the veluti-formula for citizens in their role as subjects (§ 5). (i) Logic of the Commonwealth (§ 3): In Bodin’s classic doctrine it is legislative power that characterizes the sovereign. The law itself is not understood as one possibility for regulation among others, but instead as an ordinance directed to the multitude and usually addressing essential questions of the commonwealth. For Bodin, the singular status of the prince is reflected in the meaning of the law. He embodies the commonwealth in his person. He does so before all else through the (transpersonal) dignity of his function and it is only by means of this representation that the commonwealth attains unity in the proper sense. Spinoza adopts this conception but with a democratic twist. For him the potentia multitudinis is the source of the supreme authority. In this way, it is not only according to validity, but also according to genesis that the unity of the commonwealth is tied to the institutionalization of a sovereign dominion. There cannot be reservations vis-à-vis the legal community any longer. Instead, below sovereignty there exists only common equality of right, that commonality which is addressed in the form of law and by the law and which suspends “each person’s natural right” to “be his own judge”. No one aside from the sovereign stands outside the positive law constituted by the state and even the sovereign exists only under the spell of potentia multitudinis, which is to say, as part of the commonwealth, whose unity the sovereign symbolizes, yet cannot constitute. Owing to comprehensive social inclusion, it is only the democratic version of political sovereignty which exhibits the central difference separating the civil state of legality from the anarchic state of nature. It is the primacy and binding nature of state laws that assert themselves in their demand for compliance against concurrent norms such as tradition or

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religion. To “grant” exemptions to this state of legality would not be a sign of tolerance, but rather an act of societal self-destruction with the consequence that “everything reverts to the state of nature”. The beginning of the end is reached when seemingly equitable legal claims concerning the question of which right should be valid provoke conflicts of loyalty among citizens. According to Spinoza, the sole effective remedy lies in the institutionalization of a differentiation (not a separation!) between state and society. The contrast between the political hierarchy in matters of legal decisions and the societal heterarchy of citizens renders leeway for the plurality of individuals’ ways of life (and of their individual pursuit of realization) and avoids the anarchy resulting from conflicting claims of legal validity. Spinoza’s notion of state unity is nevertheless not static. Rather, for political leadership, the task of directing society is to influence the respective “disposition” according to which men organize their lives. The sovereign power of decision within the framework of an institutionalized community bound by law (ex civitatis instituto) does not therefore exhaust itself in the jurisdiction of law, instead, Spinoza understands law making also (chiefly, even) as an instrument of social control.21 State laws certainly cannot invalidate or completely determine individual preferences and their impulsions (fear and hope). They can, however, by way of incentive or penalty, contribute to sustainably increasing society’s outlook on peace and security brought about through behaving in accordance with the law, be it of fear, calculation, or for some other reason. If a dominate pattern of behavior results from this, conformity to law itself becomes a “way of life”, based on structures of expectation that embrace state law as the binding foundation in all daily, social interaction, together with the integrative effects upon the commonwealth which follow from this. Considering things realistically, however, Spinoza does not underestimate that political sovereignty subsists on a unity and consent which it cannot guarantee itself. This is because the cohesion of the commonwealth grounds itself not upon reason, but upon affects that are unstable by nature. A claim to political leadership which claims to make a binding decision for the public and which, in the case of doubt, enforces this decision with coercive force is a risky undertaking – for both sides. (ii) Supreme Power of Interpretation (§ 4): For Spinoza, supreme authority is expressed by the rule of law. Laws, however, are in need of interpretation, a task which, for its part, cannot be conclusively regulated by norms. Aristotle had already drawn attention to this problem of an “aporia of application”.22 Therefore, even in a state where law rather than despotism should rule – described 21 22

On this facet of Spinoza’s concept of law: ttp 4; see additionally Belaief 1971, pp. 9ff., 13. Wieland 1989, p. 13.

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concisely by Harrington with the opposition of “rule of law and rule of man” – there remains no other possibility than to place the task of interpretation in the hands of a loyal and prudent team of legal interpreters. They are obliged to the “will” of the law and thus have, from times immemorial, a proximity to the process of political rule. While once the highest office and the sign of royal dignity, the juridical office has long since been delegated by the modern sovereign (as primary legislator) to the profession of judges, who were civil servants from this time on. Yet, their instruction and, especially, their art of interpretation are observed, as before, with hawk eyes by those authorized to legislate. The interpretation of law is based upon derived sovereignty and therefore, according to Spinoza’s conclusion, does not tolerate any form of privatization. (iii) Obedience to the Law (§ 5): Furthermore, sovereignty does not tolerate resistance that appeals to a higher right. The individual may find “what the commonwealth decides” to be “unfair” on moral grounds. However, according to Spinoza, there does not follow from this a right to prevent its realization or to refuse to provide the assistance necessary to its implementation. Whence does his readiness to conform originate? “Is it not contrary to the dictate of reason to subject oneself entirely to the judgment of another?” (3/6) Spinoza provides two answers, the first of which, upon first glance, offers little more than a pure functionalism. “Because the body of the state must be guided as if by one mind, and hence, the will of the Commonwealth must be considered the will of all, what a Commonwealth has decided as just and good must be thought of as having been decreed by each [citizen]” (3/5). The citizen should thus practice unconditional obedience to the law because he otherwise undermines the will of the commonwealth, thus compromising the existence of the state. Yet there is more behind this than a mere requirement. The citizen can adopt this necessity of political rule on practical grounds and draw from it the conclusion that, as subject, the individual “is bound” (which means that it is better for him in the end) to defer to state right. He could attain the insight that an existing civitas with established standards of right and justice is preferable to relapse into the state of nature (cf: E4 P37S2). For a realistic consideration of the relation between state and individual, such pragmatic reflections concerning the force motivating citizens to behave in conformity with the law are in no way to be underestimated. To the contrary, for a man determined by his affects, obedience to the law comes all the more easily the stronger the feeling is that such obedience is worthwhile.23 From 23

Cf. the last sentence of § 3: “Whoever has resolved to obey all the commands of a Commonwealth, whether because he feared its power or because he loves peace, is surely looking out for his own security and his own advantage, according to his own mentality”.

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such a minimal condition of political rule, it is possible to develop a gradual transition from motives determined by affect toward strong, reason-based (intrinsic) motives for observing the law. This is left to reason’s strength of clarification24 as it instructs citizens about the moral reasoning obliging them to obey the law. Its effectiveness has the potential to consolidate the unity of citizens in a commonwealth. There lies Spinoza’s second answer, to which he dedicates subsequent paragraphs in detail. IV

Rational Coexistence (§ 6)

To live in accordance with one’s own nature is “necessarily good” (E4 P31). Reason is the human capability to recognize what is required for a good life. The one who “rationally” considers the development of human coexistence will, according to Spinoza, come to the inevitable conclusion that the state is a necessary institutional compensation for man’s affect nature (2/15). In the state of nature, general fear of attack and the constant concern for one’s self-preservation not only prevent a good life. Such a climate of lawlessness additionally fosters affect-driven dependencies, driving men in “different directions” on shortsighted calculation, obstructing regard for common needs, converging interests, and possible chances for cooperation (E4 P37C2, together with P33–34). The state is thus the expression of reason in a twofold manner: First, it civilizes man’s affect-based nature and, second, it creates the conditions for further developing man’s gift of reason. In this way the civil state is already a milestone on the way to peace. Spinoza specifies that it is nevertheless not identical with peace (5/4). It would belong to this that fear, as reason’s helper, does not reign alone. So long as law-conforming behavior, be it exclusively or still with precedence, is secured by the sovereign’s threat of coercive force, it is only a matter of the “privation of war”. True peace is first attained when the virtue of “strength of mind” reigns, that is to say, “a constant will to do what must be done in accordance with the common decree of the Commonwealth” (5/4). Against this backdrop what reason clarifies for humans can be more precisely conceived of: First, it is rational to organize coexistence in the state under common rule of law. Second, it is rational to follow these laws of one’s own free will. What at first appears as a paradox touches upon the core of Spinoza’s notion of freedom. Freedom is insight into necessity, in this case, insight into the reasonableness of obeying the law (cf. 2/11). This correlation is not only 24

To this end reason itself must develop the capacity to affect: cf. E4 P14; and, in this context, P17S and P37S2.

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valid categorially, it can also be gradually conceived with realistic intention: “the more a man is led by reason […], the more free he is, the more steadfastly he will observe the laws of the commonwealth and carry out commands of the supreme power to whom he is subject” (3/6). The reason that Spinoza sees at work here is not a character of the civil state alone. Asymmetrical power structures in human relations already characterize the state of nature (2/8). This follows, on the one hand, from man’s own nature, hardly capable of survival on its own,25 and, on the other hand, from the mechanisms of socialization, which, under the standards of the state, also produce forms of cooperation and group formation, yet which remain largely prone to conflict because their instruments are inadequate to resolving conflict.26 From a historical-evolutionary perspective it is explained that the civil order “is naturally established to take away the common fear and relieve the common wretchedness” (3/6). With this determination of purpose, Spinoza adds an evaluative dimension to his consideration of the civil state: If the state is already “in itself” an increase in peace and freedom creating the preconditions for a life that is more than mere survival, the good of the state, its functional capacity can be measured by the reduction of fear and wretchedness.27 The commonwealth produces what the individual in the state of nature, despite his greatest of interest, is not able to. In this respect a sustainable congruence of interests exists between the state and the individual. Moreover, the state’s purpose, open as it is to development, provides reason with an object for continuous (critical) study and evaluation, to consider whether and in which way the commonwealth evolves as a “good” society bound by law. Spinoza understands “good” as “what we certainly know to be useful to us” (E4 Def1). Legislation that places itself in the service of the state’s goal can therefore be described without doubt as “good”.28 Yet what about when legislation increases fear and wretchedness? When the community suffers under a 25 26 27 28

In 2/15 Spinoza refers explicitly to man as “social animal”. Cf. Walther 2011. Additionally, see Hindrichs 2006, p. 17 on the role of the pursuit of preservation in Spinoza in the process of socialization and the formation of society. On the dialectic of more life and mere life in the modern state, as well as the latent perils of reduction, see Honig 2009, p. 10. On the goal of good legislation to make the threat of sanctions unnecessary, see ttp 17. In the first place, however, this refers to fear. Furthermore, Spinoza explicitly addresses “wretchedness”, which surprises upon first glance. However, this reference is already clarified in view of the tight bond between power and right: Who merely has nothing left to him but his life may perhaps not become a thief but he lacks a good reason as to why he should follow the laws, fear state authority, or feel like he belongs to the civitas, which is not only a society of right, but also of justice. If the state disregards man’s wretchedness, it creates the conditions in which the number of “enemies of the state” grows (cf. 3/8).

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bad government and drops behind the previously attained circumstances? Do such resolutions of the commonwealth always deserve to be followed by citizens? In Spinoza’s eyes the answer is unambiguously “yes”.29 Obedience to a bad, yet effective law (which is followed by the majority of citizens) is the lesser evil when compared with living in a state of lawlessness. As explained, there is no hope for peace without the state. And without sanctioned laws of right, the necessary foundations for the commonwealth’s unity are lacking. This is a commonwealth which, in the form of potential multitudinis, does typically not possess the force to self-sufficiently adopt resolutions “as if led by one mind”, but is rather (at most) united by the highest authority of right sovereignly deciding in this “mind”.30 Can the (moral) obligation to obey the law be justified in light of this consideration of reason? Perhaps with the aid of two additional arguments. First, at the level of the individual, behavior voluntarily conforming to law – which becomes integrity with extended practice – represents a necessary basis for leading a rational life. This is the guiding theme of Spinoza’s ethics. Second, this requires social harmony on a substantial scale at the societal level. A predominate majority of citizens naturally adhering to law is a mandatory precondition for this. Taken together, it can then be said that the laws and civil integrity of a society bound by law are at once the products and the producers of the moral formation of man. The individual thus owes to himself and to the other citizens, to contribute to this formative process. V

State as Political Institution (§§ 7–9)

The following three paragraphs go in detail regarding the conditions under which one can rationally expect that the institutionalization of state dominion and its demand for adherence to its laws work towards the well being of the commonwealth. To this end, Spinoza invokes three things: The first issue concerns the advantages ensuing from the processes of socialization and the resulting increase in power for the commonwealth. The other two set rational limits to the expansion of the civil state. (i) The Commonwealth’s increase in power (§ 7): As already addressed, the veluti-formula does not express pre-political harmony or pre-state homogeny on the basis of which a political order could first emerge. Rather, expressed 29 30

This perception feeds not in the least upon Spinoza’s skepticism with regard to revolutionary overthrow, which changes the structures of institutions but not the state. See Terpstra 1994, p. 89, note 7.

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within the veluti-formula is the political challenge to produce this sort of unity through the mediation of different capabilities inside the multitude. By regulating access to the community through the power of the majority, the multitude itself contributes substantially to this pursuit of unity. By no means do these processes of inclusion and exclusion have to achieve the level of a procedural rule of law, but can instead be conducted affectively and ensue through collective violence (oppression and forced conformity) – another (and darker) side of the power of the multitude.31 In any case, Spinoza is certainly correct in pointing to the potential for increasing power that a “good” government can unleash when it succeeds in promoting integration into the commonwealth by way of rational legislation.32 As noted, the summa potestas cannot detach itself from the potentia multitudinis for long without putting its own existence in danger. It can, however, make itself an actor or “organ” representing the potentia multitudinis, leading it to adhere to the law by administering the rules of integration and offering comprehensive strategies for conflict resolution.33 If potestas is directed at general tasks (coordinating social cooperation, pacifying conflicts, binding decisions about right and wrong), it facilitates an orientation by what is common and therefore a unification of individual ways of life within the multitudo. With this it contributes, by guiding the integration processes, to the formation of the identity of the political commonwealth which, in the words of Spinoza, “is founded on and directed by reason” (3/7). At the same time the orientation of the multitude by the common effects the formation of the state’s own individuality, which indeed emerges from society, but which, as an independent existence in the form of state institutions, receives a life of its own, its own conatus striving towards self-preservation, which is to say, towards political stability.34 The state’s power for self-preservation finds its expression nowhere more distinctly than in the claim to validity of laws which should regulate social life. Thereby, a decisive indicator for the ability to function of the dynamic processes of exchange between summa potestas and potentia multitudinis is the effectiveness of the legal regulations as it provides information about the integrity of the state’s citizens.35 (ii) Natural limits of political sovereignty (§ 8): Citizens are not indifferent in their relation to the state. They have expectations determined by hope or fear. 31 32 33 34 35

See the remarks of Hindrichs 2006 and Walther 2004, p. 24ff. Spinoza points to 2/11. In these paragraphs the importance of the rational mind as a precondition for individual freedom is discussed. A meaningful historical example that Spinoza refers to is the arbitrational and judicial functions marked in a monarchy by the role of the king (7/5). Cf. Matheron 2000, p. 324. For a more detailed account see Walther 1982.

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Thus they are not (entirely) independent.36 On the other hand, the state can only influence citizens in certain ways, but not in all ways.37 “Natural” limits lie where potential sanctions fizzle out without effect, where incentives no longer allure, and where penalties can no longer present a threat. Accordingly, these spheres should not be made into objects of law making. This concerns, for instance, abilities (above all the capacity to think and judge, feelings), which belong so immediately to human nature that state interventions in the form of decrees or prohibitions would be a sign of irrationality. No one can forbid man to think. At best, the content of his thought can be influenced. One can just as little regulate love and hate. In attempting to do so, one only increases defiance. Similarly futile are all measures intended to bring man to compromise his right to self-preservation.38 Everything in this direction is what “human nature so abhors that it considers them worse than any other evil” (3/8). Attempts of this kind are thus not only to be judged as failures, but also as iniquitous and designed to undermine the authority of the commonwealth and the sovereignty of its decisions. In the eyes of Spinoza, one who believes he can turn what is unjust or unnatural into acceptable right acts as if stricken by madness (3/8) and is obviously no longer able to come to terms with reality. In reality, a law can only be effective when it is supported by the majority of citizens. It does not necessarily need to be rational for this (particularly insofar as the commonwealth is capable of erring, even with respect to rational regulations), but is also not permitted to be absurd. For Spinoza, the state’s role in the self-reflexive conception of the commonwealth includes its task to watch over the natural limits of sovereignty. As to the citizen’s role, these limits require willingness for minimal integration within a society bound by law. In cases of doubt, this integration must be asserted against political or ideologically-driven criminals. Within the state there is no outside of law. If one has made himself immune against state sanctions because, for example, he is finished with his life, yet without being prepared to lead his life in private tranquility (or to end it), then a danger proceeds from him, insofar as he can live out his “suffering” (passion) uninhibited in the public and against it. He therefore counts, according to Spinoza, among the “enemies 36 37 38

According to Spinoza in 3/8 with reference to 2/10. See also Den Uyl 1983, p. 92. The attempt to influence society in this respect can be seen in Sieyès term re-totale, as distinguished from re-publique, which leaves citizens their own room for freedom in society; cf. Lembcke/Weber 2010, p. 64. Spinoza’s example (3/8): “as that man should act as a witness against himself, that he should torture himself, that he should kill his parents, that he should not strive to avoid death, and the like, which no one can be induced to do by any reward or threat”.

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of the state”,39 who are to be made innocuous, this being part of the state’s function of protection. (iii) Moral Limits of Political Sovereignty (§ 9): A third condition of considerable importance to the success of political rule is directed at a minimal standard of morality. The sovereign must refrain from what incites “general horr[or]” (at least as regards the majority of subjects). When in the famous Chapter xvii of his Il Principe Niccolò Machiavelli advises the prince in the case of the people’s doubt to conduct himself in such a manner that people sooner fear him than love him, he does not refrain from adding that the prince should nonetheless not seek to attract hate or spread anger. Spinoza embeds Machiavelli’s reflections on political practice, as it were, in the context of a theory of power by recalling the referential context between the “power of the multitude” and the bearer of supreme political authority (3/9). The effect of indignation infiltrating these relations of power is to unfold an effect of extinguishing fear because it “banishes fear and respect” (4/4) with dangerous consequences for the holder of power. Indignation urges crime and ganging together with the aim of retaliation.40 Once triggered it becomes difficult to contain. Rational arguments hardly have a chance. For the one who falls into a rage, realizations and apologies often come too late. For him revenge is near. In the spirit of Machiavelli, Spinoza directs a clear warning at political rulers. Sovereignty does not mean limitless power to rule. The one who disregards moral standards and antagonizes the masses has no legitimate right to rule, but has instead grounds for fear. VI

Religion and Politics (§ 10)

In the paragraphs concluding the theory of sovereignty, Spinoza comes to speak of that old adversary of political dominion: religion. Hobbes had already braced himself with substantial effort against its competing claims, in order to justify the precedence of a mortal god’s validity and its decision within the political order that is confronted by Christianity, the priesthood, and papacy. Spinoza adopts this program at the least to the extent that religion is not given 39

40

The “enemy”, who also believes to stand under his own right within the state, is similar to the wise man who – considered ideally – acts solely from reason and therefore grasps the right of the state as “his” right. In distinction to the enemy he nevertheless acts from insight and understands himself as an integrated part of the community bound by law, and, in doubt, even when he is made – as Socrates mistakenly was – (into) an “enemy”. To exemplify this Spinoza draws upon the theory of affect mimicry, according to which men suffer together the passions of others and are motivated to act by this. In this context specifically, see Walther 2011, p. 212f.

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a constitutive place within his theory of the state.41 The source of possible disruptions to citizen’s obedience to the law with regard to state decisions by religion has been “drained”. It is not the case that an appeal to a “higher” right (the will of God) or supreme principles (the command to love one’s neighbor) constitute a conflict of loyalty or even a right to civil disobedience. Nor is it the case that “external forms of worship” create a foundation for religious leaders to take the place of political authority. Finally, revelation does not entail a duty that would justify carrying religious convictions into the public. In the first step Spinoza thematizes the questions regarding conflicts of loyalty and consciousness relevant to the mass of believers given competition between spiritual and secular claims to validity and consequence. His answer: the one who is guided by reason is free regardless and does not stand under foreign right (2/11). The notion of a conflict of loyalty between citizens and believers is therefore invalid. In other words, by preventing an exacerbation (via theory) of this general question, reason, as a peacemaking power, proves itself to be “rational”. There is compatibility even in the somewhat more concrete challenge posed by the command to love one’s neighbor, above all because its “supreme exercise” (3/10) is taken up in the state’s goal to secure peace. Each Christian can therefore perform his duty to love his neighbor as a loyal state citizen and indeed, as Spinoza clarifies with little ambiguity, in the framework of state laws. In the second step Spinoza turns to the institution of the church. If the problem of a conflict between those obedient to God and those obedient to the state is too serious to be permitted to manifest openly, then the surrogate of God on earth, celebrated in “external forms of worship” – priests and thus the institution of the church itself – is too unimportant to be considered a disruption. This statement is as bold as the explanation that follows it. According to Spinoza, neither the church nor its dogmatic mediation produces “true knowledge” (3/10). Religion serves faith and directs its efforts at obedience (ttp 13) in seeking to increase its effectiveness.42 No science is required for this since, at its core, it concerns simple matters (ttp 14) which refer to the practice of human living and should serve their inner strengthening. In the last step Spinoza draws the conclusion: religion is a private matter. Everyone has the right, “wherever he may be, [to] worship God in accordance with true Religion, and look out for himself, which is the duty of a private man” (3/10). 41 42

For an instructive comparison between Hobbes, Spinoza, and Rousseau with regard to the relation of politics and religion, see Walther 1994. Behind this is Spinoza’s programmatic separation of religion (faith/obedience) and philosophy (truth/wisdom); cf. ttp 14–15. See also Samely 1993.

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However, a (missionary) duty to spread the faith does not follow from caring for one’s own salvation. This remains reserved for the authorities, if at all. To presume the required abilities held by Christ’s disciples, which are not those of normal mortals, is likely a sign of hubris. In any case, according to Spinoza, this sort of self-empowerment neither justifies nor gives occasion to endanger a state order produced by right and laws. VII

Summary

An order of the political emerges (and remains) only by way of a unification of individual powers, which, when taken together constitute the political order. From this conception there follows an ambivalent status for potentia multitudinis from which sovereignty arises. The same power that establishes an order can destroy it. Spinoza is conscious of the latent uncontrollability of politics. This conforms to his realistic view of the affect-based human nature. For this reason Spinoza has not drafted a normative framework for politics, but has instead developed possibilities for a successful coexistence on the basis of politics’ actual conditions of functionality. In this way he successfully unfolds the paradoxical structure of sovereignty – being both inside and outside of the legal order. Spinoza has emphasized sovereignty’s unrestrained legal authority in the realm of state laws like few other thinkers. And he has formulated sovereignty’s limits just as radically, not as imposed by some higher sphere of law, but through human nature, which is to say, through the effects of sovereign decisions on the affectivity of man and their repercussions. These consequences are to be taken into account by the sovereign in the interest of political stability. They set strong incentive for self-commitment and self-limitation in the framework of his own self-determination. In this way reason, in the guise of political savvy, has an influence on sovereignty acting as the supreme authority of the commonwealth bound by law. Bibliography Arendt, Hannah (1970): On Violence. New York. Balibar, Étienne (1998): Spinoza and politics. London/New York. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2010): Einleitung. Politischer Traktat. In: Bartuschat (ed.): Baruch de Spinoza: Sämtliche Werke. Bd. 5.2. Hamburg, pp. VII–XLV. Belaief, Gail (1971): Spinoza’s Philosophy of Law. The Hague/Paris. Den Uyl, Douglas J. (1983): Power, State and Freedom. An Interpretation of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy. Assen.

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Heller, Hermann (1927): Die Souveränität. Ein Beitrag zur Theorie des Staats- und Völkerrechts. Id.: Gesammelte Schriften. edited by Christoph Müller. Bd. 2. Tübingen 1992, pp. 31–202. Hindrichs, Gunnar (2006): Die Macht der Menge – der Grundgedanke in Spinozas politischer Philosophie. In: Id. (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Über die Aktualität einer Denkfigur. Heidelberg, pp. 13–40. Honig, Bonnie (2009): Emergency Politics. Paradox, Law, Democracy. Princeton/ Oxford. Lembcke, Oliver W. (2012): Politik als Affektmanagement. Eine Skizze der Souveränitätstheorie Spinozas. In: Heidenreich, Felix/Schaal, Gary S. (ed.): Politische Theorie und Emotionen. Baden-Baden, pp. 87–103. Lembcke, Oliver W./Weber, Florian (2010): Revolution und Konstitution. Zur politischen Theorie von Sieyès. In: Id. (ed.): Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès: Was ist der Dritte Stand? Ausgewählte Schriften. Berlin, pp. 13–89. Preuss, Hugo (1921): Vom Obrigkeitsstaat zum Volksstaat. In: Id.: Gesammelte Schriften. Vol. 4: Politik und Verfassung in der Weimarer Republik. Edited by Detlef Lehnert. Tübingen 2008, pp. 157–171. Rice, Lee C. (1978): Servitus in Spinoza. A Programmatic Analysis. In: Wetlesen, Jon (ed.): Spinoza’s Philosophy of Man. Proceedings of the Scandinavian Spinoza Symposium (1977). Oslo/Bergen et al., pp. 179–191. Rousseau, Jean-Jacques (2002): The Social Contract and the First and Second Discourses, ed. Susan Dunn. Binghamton. Saar, Martin (2006): Politik der Multitude. In: Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Über die Aktualität einer Denkfigur. Heidelberg, pp. 181–202. Saar, Martin (2013): Immanenz der Macht. Politische Theorie nach Spinoza. Berlin. Samely, Alexander (1993): Spinozas Theorie der Religion. Würzburg. Spinoza, Baruch de (2006): Theologisch-politischer Traktat. In: Id.: Werke in drei Bänden. Bd. 2, edited by Wolfgang Bartuschat. Hamburg. Spinoza, Baruch de (2010): Politischer Traktat. In: Id. Sämtliche Werke. Bd. 5.2, edited by Wolfgang Bartuschat. Hamburg. Terpstra, Marin (1994): What Does Spinoza Mean by »potentia multitudinis«? In: Balibar, Étienne/Seidel, Helmut/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Freiheit und Notwendigkeit. Ethische und politische Aspekte bei Spinoza und in der Geschichte des (Anti-) Spinozismus. Würzburg, pp. 85–98. Tuck, Richard (1979): Natural Rights Theories: Their Origin and Development. Cambridge. Walther, Manfred (1982): Spinoza und der Rechtspositivismus. Affinitäten der Rechtstheorie Spinozas und der reinen Rechtslehre Hans Kelsens. In: Archiv für Rechts- und Sozialphilosophie 68, pp. 407–419. Walther, Manfred (1993): Philosophy and Politics in Spinoza. In: Studia Spinozana 9, pp. 49–57.

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Walther, Manfred (1996): Die Religion des Bürgers – eine Aporie der politischen Kultur der Neuzeit? Hobbes, Spinoza und Rousseau oder Über die Folgenlast des Endes der politischen Theologie. In: Münkler, Herfried (ed.): Bürgerreligion und Bürgertugend. Debatten über die vorpolitischen Grundlagen politischer Ordnung. BadenBaden, pp. 25–61. Walther, Manfred (2004): Utilitaristische Rechtstheorie als Theorie naturwüchsiger Genese regelgeleiteter und sanktionsbewehrter Kooperation. Ein Versuch. In: Mastonardi, Philippe (ed.): Das Recht im Spannungsfeld utilitaristischer und deontologischer Ethik. (Archiv für Rechts- und Sozialphilosophie, Beiheft 94). Stuttgart, pp. 11–27. Walther, Manfred (2011): Elementary Features of Spinoza’s political philosophy (4p37s2). In: Hampe, Michael/Renz, Ursula/Schnepf, Robert (eds.): Baruch de Spinoza’s Ethics. A collective commentary. Leiden, pp. 211–232. Wieland, Wolfgang (1989): Aporien der praktischen Vernunft. Frankfurt a. M.

Spinoza’s Theory of International Relations (TP, Chapter 3, §§ 11–18) Tilmann Altwicker I

Introduction: Spinoza and Classical International Law

In the contemporary theory of international relations and law, one searches in vain for references to Spinoza. His brief remarks to relations between states found in the third chapter of the Political Treatise (§§ 11–17) seem to too strongly reflect the past world of classical international law and thus lack in value-oriented right between states.1 In Spinoza’s time, international law had little room for the idea of universal rights of peoples or man. During Spinoza’s lifetime and well into the 19th century, the concept of “international law” was understood as the Ius publicum Europaeum, European public law, which governed relations between Christian nations.2 The event that would shape the epoch of classical international law, the Peace of Westphalia, preceded the posthumous publication of Spinoza’s Political Treatise in 1677 by approximately three decades.3 The Peace Treaty of Münster and Osnabrück confirmed the sovereignty of European powers, at the same time terming the central concept of classical international law. The modern concept of sovereignty, established in the 15th and 16th centuries, concerns the highest authority of final decision. This was initially thought as a feature of the prince (the “sovereign”).4 Later, with the emergence of state territories, it was understood as an element of the state itself.5 Because the sovereigns, as holders of summa potestas, recognized no binding power superior to them, one also speaks of the “anarchy of sovereignty”6 in referring to the epoch of classical international law. 1 On the epoch of so-called classical international law (or the “French age”), see Hobe/Kimminich 2004, pp. 36–44 and Ziegler 2007, pp. 142–168. 2 Cf. Tomuschat 2001, pp. 29–33. 3 On the significance of the Peace of Westphalia for international law, see Hobe/Kimminich 2004, p. 36. For further detail, see Ziegler 1999, pp. 129–151. 4 The concept of sovereignty is – even if with other content – essentially older. Cf. Quaritsch 1986, p. 13. 5 On the theory of sovereignty in the epoch of classical international law, see Hobe/Kimminich 2004, p. 38. 6 Hobe/Kimminich 2004, p. 38.

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The right to war (ius ad bellum), a matter of considerable consequence, is derived from this understanding of sovereignty along with the fundamental tenets of equality among states and the prohibition of intervention.7 The “Just War Theory” (bellum iustum), associated with Thomas Aquinas since the Middle Ages, and the iusta causa demanded by it were replaced by the states’ right to wage war.8 Given this (latent) Hobbesian “war of all against all”, one could no longer talk of an international community based on universal legal principles.9 The emergence of binding international law was only possible on the basis of consensus.10 An international law grounded upon universal values or ethics was unthinkable. At first glance, Spinoza’s remarks on the theory of international relations look as if he simply provides a theoretical account of classical international law as just outlined. Admittedly, this interpretation would not be far from Spinoza’s intention given in the introductory chapter to the Political Treatise: to place political practice on a secure theoretical foundation.11 A still more far-reaching reading, which evolved following Gustav Adolf Walz and termed by Adolf Menzel in the 1930s as the “dominate view of Spinoza”,12 considered Spinoza as a “denier of international law”.13 The following seeks to show that Spinoza can neither be turned into a philosopher of classical international law nor into a denier of international law altogether. It is rather the case that Spinoza should be thought of as pre-thinker of a procedural theory of a confederation of states. II

The International State of Nature According to Spinoza (§§ 11–14, 17)

Starting from a view of international relations similar to that of Thomas Hobbes, Spinoza assumes an original state of nature existing between states 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Cf. Oeter 2002, pp. 259, 272 and Steinberger 2000, pp. 500–521. On Thomas Aquinas’ three requirements of just war, see Ziegler 2004, pp. 271, 273. Cf. Oeter 2002, pp. 272–3. Oeter 2002, p. 273; Steinberger 2000, p. 511. “So when I applied my mind to Politics, I didn’t intend to advance anything new or unheard of, but only to demonstrate the things which agree best with practice, in a certain and indubitable way […]” (1/4). Menzel 1929, p. 410, fn. 4; For an earlier iteration, see Menzel 1908, pp. 17–30; For Menzel’s interpretation of Spinoza’s philosophy of international law, see Walther 2003a, pp. 284, 293. Cf. Walz 1930, pp. 18–26; Nussbaum, 1947, p. 114; For contemporary literature see, SeidlHohenveldern/Stein 2000, p. 26 para. 98; also Murphy 1982, pp. 477, 484.

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(3/11; 3/13).14 Spinoza’s notion of an international state of nature rests upon two considerations. First, if one appeals to the analogy between individual and state the way Spinoza does, then it follows logically that states are also origi­nally found in a state of nature (analogy argument).15 Second, Spinoza ­assumes – without mentioning the cosmopolitan alternative – that the socialization of individuals comes to its end in the transition to the civil state in such a way that, for states, the original condition of being unconnected is natural and potentially permanent (socialization argument). Therefore, Spinoza does not consider the idea or utopia of a world-state from the outset. For him, further endeavors of socialization at the international level are not fundamentally required since, unlike the case of the individual (cf. 2/15), a state would be able to care for its self-preservation on its own (cf. 3/11). How does Spinoza design the international state of nature? Three essential characteristics merit highlighting: its character as state of war, the absence of an international common good, and the non-binding nature of international agreements. Spinoza leaves no doubt that “by nature two Commonwealths are enemies” (3/13). The international state of nature is a state of war. To substantiate this thesis he refers to the argument of analogy just considered. As individuals in the state of nature find themselves in this state because their affects stand in an irresolvable conflict with each other (cf. 2/14), a similar situation must be assumed for states. The reasoning here is nevertheless more complex than this lapidary reference to the analogy would make one believe. The “affects” of the state cannot be spoken of without conceptual confusion. The analogy can thus only mean a fundamental absence of an apriori harmony of interests at the international level. Behind this is Spinoza’s rejection of a universalist 14

15

Hobbes 1651, Ch. 30, p. 217: “Concerning the offices of one sovereign to another, which are comprehended in that law which is commonly called the law of nations, I need not say anything in this place, because the law of nations and the law of nature is the same thing”. The international state of nature is impressively described by Hobbes (Ch. 13, p. 79): “But though there had never been any time wherein particular men were in a condition of war one against another, yet in all times kings and persons of sovereign authority, because of their independency, are in continual jealousies, and in the state and posture of gladiators, having their weapons pointing, and their eyes fixed on one another; that is, their forts, garrisons, and guns upon the frontiers of their kingdoms, and continual spies upon their neighbours, which is a posture of war”. See also Hobbes 1998, Ch. 13. The analogy between the individual and the state is a means of representation that Spinoza uses in more than one place: “For since the Right of the supreme power is nothing more than the Right itself of nature, it follows that two states are related to one another as two men are in the state of nature […]” (3/11). “Now in the civil state all the citizens collectively ought to be consider just like a man in the state of nature” (7/22). “We can understand this more clearly if we consider that by nature two Commonwealths are enemies. For in the state of nature men are enemies”. (3/13) [emphasis added].

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approach to international law and relations in contrast to Francisco Vitoria, Fransisco Suárez, and Hugo Grotius in particular.16 These authors assumed – although they supported the plurality of states – that there must be an international common good binding upon states in one way or another. Spinoza would have it otherwise: the international state of nature is formed by the particular interests of states. As he formulates it, the state’s “own well-being” is “supreme law” (3/14). For Spinoza, this negative description of the absence of an international common good in the state of nature is to be completed by two further characteristics. Only when viewed together these characteristics shed light upon the question why the international state of nature is a state of war. The international state of nature is characterized by, on the one hand, the states’ right to wage war and, on the other hand, the fundamental non-binding nature of international agreements. Regarding the right to wage war: For Spinoza, in line with the above-mentioned reality of international law during his time, the state is not subject to any limitations of natural right when pursuing its interests (4/5). The right to wage war follows from the right to the free choice of means (3/13). It is the case for states, as with individuals, that their natural right reaches as far as their power (potentia) (3/2; see 2/4). In addition to this ius ad bellum Spinoza elsewhere names a few limitations which apply in a state of war (ius in bello). Amongst these are, for example, the rule stating that war is only to be conducted for the sake of peace (6/35) and the rules for dealing with conquered cities (9/13). With these remarks Spinoza moves in close proximity to classical international law which distinguished between the laws of peace and war.17 Regarding the non-binding nature of international law: Treaties between states are non-binding. It is important to distinguish between “rational rules for action in accord with natural right” existing among those in the state of nature, to which Francis Cheneval18 rightfully points, and their normative status. In this way it can be rational (in an instrumental sense) for a state in the state of nature to enter treaty relations with other states. Spinoza names two types of agreements: the non-aggression pact, entered out of “fear of loss”, and the trade agreement, entered out of “hope of profit” (3/14). However, according to Spinoza, these agreements are not legally binding:

16 17 18

Cf. the remarks of Böckenförde 2006, pp. 365–6 (on Vitoria), p. 393 (on Suárez). On Grotius see Murphy 1982. Hobe/Kimminich 2004, p. 39; Ziegler 2007, p. 152. Cheneval 2001, pp. 195, 201.

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But if either Commonwealth loses its hope or fear, it is once again its own master, and the chain by which the Commonwealths were bound to one another is broken of its own accord. So each Commonwealth has a complete right to dissolve the alliance whenever it wants to (3/14). The rules of action in the international state of nature thus have the status of mere rules of prudence from which binding law cannot result. If a state does not comprehend these international rules of conduct as founded upon instrumental rationality only, then, according to Spinoza, it must accept is “own foolishness” (3/14). Spinoza gives three arguments for the non-bindingness of international agreements concluded in the state of nature: first, its foundation in the legalontological idea of conservatio sui to which the state is entitled (and with it the free choice of means); second, the clausula rebus sic stantibus of international law; and third a theological consideration. I will not go into the first argument regarding ontology and natural right.19 The theological justification with which Spinoza wishes to support the non-binding nature of international agreements is dubious: Spinoza claims that even the sacred scriptures did not demand adherence to the rule pacta sunt servanda without exception. In Spinoza’s example of the deposit of stolen money, one is permitted to refuse returning the money to the depositor in favor of the true owner (3/17). In addition to the fundamental problem of appealing to theological arguments in the state of nature, Spinoza inadmissibly draws a general rule from a case of exception here. More interesting is the infamous clausula-argument for the non-binding nature of international agreements. It reads: “[…] no one contracts for the future unless he assumes that certain circumstances will prevail. If these circumstances change, then the nature of the whole situation also changes” (3/14). While in positive international law, the clausula only gives a one-sided right to break agreements in strictly exceptional cases, Spinoza invokes it as confirmation of a general right of states to end unfavorable agreements of their own power. In comparison to positive international law, Spinoza’s conception of the clausula is far broader. Spinoza’s comments on the clausula pose various problems of interpretation. The Austrian scholar of international law, Adolf Menzel, has indicated the two decisive questions here. Do states always have the right to withdraw from agreements of international law even without a change of circumstances? ­Further, are all agreements between states non-binding?20 Considering 19 20

See the remarks by Röd 2002, p. 296 which also apply to the international state of nature. Menzel 1929, p. 414.

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what has already been said about the non-binding nature of international ­agreements – in particular the arguments regarding ontology, natural law, and theology – Menzel’s first question is easy to affirm. For Spinoza, the shift in circumstances does not require an objective change in the situation – for example, the subversion of a political system – but rather a change in the subjective will of the sovereign is considered as sufficient – for example, the opinion that a trade agreement has become unfavorable. Menzel’s assessment, that the clausula is actually meaningless when stripped off its facutal-element [Tatbe­ stand], can therefore be agreed with.21 With his second question – whether or not all international agreements are non-binding – Menzel poses the crucial question in relation to Spinoza’s remarks on international law. A clear answer can only be given in respect of agreements between states made in the international state of nature. Whatever the case may be, these will be non-binding. III

The International State of Peace (§§ 15, 16)

One can summarize the decisive question concerning Spinoza’s theory of international relations in the following way: Can there be binding international agreements at all in his conception, or, formulated otherwise, is it possible to conceive of a lasting state of peace between states? Corresponding to this is the problem as to whether or not one can take Spinoza’s remarks in paragraphs 15 and 16 of the third chapter as mere continuation of the argument for the international state of nature or as a foundation for an international state of peace. Those who see Spinoza as a “denier of international law” (Gustav Adolf Walz, Arthur Nussbaum, Cornelius Murphy) reject the possibility of binding international agreements on the basis of what has been said above regarding the international state of nature (negative approach to international law).22 An intermediary view holds that Spinoza, were he to remain true to his own standards, would have had to assert the binding nature of just agreements of international law (Charles Edwyn Vaughn)23 or, at the very least, of defensive 21 22 23

Menzel 1929, p. 414. See footnote 13. Vaughan 1939, vol. i, pp. 80–84: Vaughn takes the view that Spinoza has not distinguished clearly enough between non-binding agreements such as peace agreements dictated by victors and pacts of aggression on the one side and binding agreements such as defensiveand trade agreements on the other. The bindingness of the latter results from their just purpose. However, this interpretation appears to me to be incompatible with Spinoza’s doctrine of the state of nature’s moral neutrality.

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alliances (Hersch Lauterpacht)24 (partially affirmative approach). A third perspective (Alfred Verdroß, Adolf Menzel, Francis Cheneval) sees Spinoza as an early representative of consensus-based international law. Despite their differences in particularities, these authors all assume that Spinoza’s notion of international law ultimately suggests the institutional establishment of a general confederation of nations (procedural-universalist approach).25 This view sees Spinoza’s remarks in intellectual proximity to Immanuel Kant’s later league of nations theory [Völkerbundtheorie]. The following wishes to suggest a fourth interpretation according to which Spinoza ultimately proposes the establishment of a regional confederation of states (procedural-particularist approach). What is initially to be established is how something like a binding international law can emerge from instrumental rationality.26 According to Spinoza, the fundamental impulse for the emergence of international law is that states no longer view being unconnected as instrumentally rational, but to come together in alliances for the purpose of making themselves collectively more powerful (3/12). In paragraphs 15 and 16 of the third chapter, Spinoza presents the conditions required to perceive international law as “law”, based on his conceptions of law and state. The most important textual evidence indicating that Spinoza assumes binding international law is the discussion of “the common will of the allies” to which the 24

25

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Lauterpacht 1927, pp. 97–98: Lauterpacht ascribes it to the reality of European states during the 17th century that Spinoza does not consider a closer alliance among states. If it is the need for protection that leads individuals to pursue the establishment of a civil state, this should be even more valid in the world of states where an individual state is exposed to the constant threat of more powerful states. Verdroß (1928, pp. 100, 104) argues by way of an analogy between Spinoza’s remarks in the second and third chapter of the Political Treatise. Spinoza is not only reckoning with the possibility of bilateral state alliances but also with the “possibility of a general association of states” (p. 104). International agreements are only non-binding in the time before the establishment of an association of states, the time of “isolated legal relations between two states” (p. 104). Under the status of the “positive association under international law” the entire natural law must give way to positive law (p. 105). In contrast to Verdroß, Menzel 1929 stresses the procedural aspect. Spinoza did not accept the existence of the association of states already in his time, but rather postponed it to a future point, to culminate in the establishment of a general league of nations (p. 419f.). According to Cheneval 2001, Spinoza’s theory represents an “early, procedural version of the league of nations” (p. 201). Spinoza establishes a “voluntary law of peoples” resting upon the assumption that with increasing expansion of peace treaties among individual states there will be less to fear and states will have less power (potentia) to wage war against others. Spinoza’s concept of law is thus ultimately cosmopolitan (p. 203). See also Walther 2003b, pp. 657–664. For a more extensive reconstruction of Spinoza’s international legal argument see Altwicker 2017, pp. 188–192.

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individual state must ultimately succumb (3/16). In parallel to the civil state, participating nations are therefore “led as if by one mind” on the international level (2/16). The argument for the inner connection between Chapters ii and iii of the Political Treatise used by Verdroß is just as feasible. According to his argument, the non-bindingness of agreements in any given case refers only to the state of nature, but not to the situation in which an association of states has been formed.27 Lastly, it can be plausibly asserted that a common will regarding international law is entirely consistent with Spinoza’s natural law conception insofar as this common will is directed at preserving the existence [Daseinserhaltung] of individual states.28 Should one accept this and affirm the possibility of binding international law, there follows the question as to how the international state of peace is fleshed out by Spinoza. There is little to be found on this question in paragraphs 15 and 16. All the same, Spinoza makes it clear that the international state of peace would be established on the basis of agreements between states. In this respect the figure of the contract is again needed for overcoming the international state of nature in the Political Treatise.29 Spinoza is realistic enough to know that a state of peace can only be realized gradually through the constant expansion of the alliance: “[t]he greater the number of commonwealths which enter into an agreement for peace with one another, the less each one must be feared by the others” (3/16). In this sense it is a procedural theory of international law. As a further feature, Spinoza envisages a dispute settling institution [Streitschlichtungsinstanz] that has to proceed according to the principle of unanimity [Einstimmigkeit] (cf. 3/15). The state has the possibility to leave the alliance at any time (cf. 3/15). The primary purpose of the alliance is the preservation of peace. As already mentioned, Spinoza does not consider a civitas maxima or world state. It is a confederation of sovereign individual states. The scope of this collective formation is unlimited according to the procedural-universalist approach. The process of peace finds its conclusion only in an alliance of nations comprising of all states.

27 28

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Verdroß 1928, p. 104. Similarly, see Menzel 1929, p. 416. This argument can be traced to the passage discussing “the chain by which the Commonwealths were bound to one another”. As the comparison to 5/16 shows, referred to are the laws concerning the pursuit of self-preservation which the state cannot renounce; see also the comments of Bartuschat 1994, p. 234. While Spinoza almost entirely avoids the figure of the contract that ends the initial state of nature between individuals in the Political Treatise (the sole mention is found in 5/6), it is nonetheless indispensable to ending the international state of nature between states. See also Cheneval 2001, p. 202.

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According to the interpretation suggested here, the better arguments speak for a particularist view embracing a regionally limited alliance of states. According to Spinoza’s theory of power, one makes peace with those states of which one has something to fear. In the perception of the time, these would have been, in the first place, European neighbor states and not distant states in other parts of the world. Unlike Kant, Spinoza also does not know the right of world citizens, his theory of international law is not oriented by cosmopolitism, but he constantly refers back to the interest in preserving the existence of individual states. Spinoza does not seem to argue for a genuinely universalist position advocating an international common good. IV

Conclusion

There are good reasons to cast doubt upon the traditional image of Spinoza’s theory of international relations. Spinoza cannot readily be coopted as an apologist for classical international law and its strong doctrine of sovereignty. While Spinoza characterizes the state of nature between states through the absence of an international common good, the right of states to wage war, and the non-binding nature of international agreements, in paragraphs 15 and 16 of the third chapter an entirely different perspective on international relations is envisaged. Here, Spinoza presents the conditions under which it is possible to think of international law as binding law. Within the framework of a proceduralconsensual theory of international law, an international state of peace can be conceived, one that neither requires a world-state nor one which comprises of all states, but instead secures lasting peace as regional alliances of states. Spinoza’s brief remarks on the theory of international relations in the Political Treatise can be interpreted as a first attempt at the idea of an “ever closer union among the peoples of Europe”, as it would be referred to some three hundred years later in the agreement founding the European Union (Preamble, 1957). Bibliography Altwicker, Tilmann (2017): The International Legal Argument in Spinoza. In: Kadelbach, Stefan et al. (eds.). System, Order, and International Law. The Early History of International Legal thought from Machiavelli to Hegel. Oxford, pp. 183–198. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1994): Anmerkungen. In: Id. (ed.): Baruch de Spinoza. Politischer Traktat. Hamburg, pp. 229–242.

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Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2006): Baruch de Spinoza. München. Böckenförde, Ernst-Wolfgang (2006): Geschichte der Rechts- und Staatsphilosophie. Antike und Mittelalter. Tübingen. Cheneval, Francis (2001): Spinozas Philosophie der internationalen Beziehungen. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Vorträge gehalten anlässlich des 6. Internationalen Kongresses der Spinoza-Gesellschaft vom 5. bis 7 Oktober 2000 an der Universität Zürich. Zürich, pp. 195–208. Hobbes, Thomas (1651): Leviathan or the Matter, Forme and Power of a Commonwealth Ecclesiasticall and Civil. London. Hobbes, Thomas (1998): On the Citizen, edited by Richard Ruck and Michael Silverthorne. Cambridge. Hobe, Stephan/Kimminich, Otto (2004): Einführung in das Völkerrecht. Tübingen/ Basel. Lauterpacht, Hersch (1927): Spinoza and International Law. In: The British Yearbook of International Law 8, pp. 89–107. Menzel, Adolf (1908): Spinoza und das Völkerrecht. In: Zeitschrift für Völkerrecht 2, pp. 17–30. Menzel, Adolf (1929): Beiträge zur Geschichte der Staatslehre. Hrsg. von der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Wien (Philosophisch-historische Klasse). Sitzungsberichte. vol. 210. 1. Abt. Murphy, Cornelius F. (1982): The Grotian Vision of World Order. In: American Journal of International Law 76, pp. 477–498. Nussbaum, Arthur (1947): A Concise History of the Law of Nations. New York. Oeter, Stefan (2002): Souveränität – ein überholtes Konzept? In: Cremer, Hans Joachim et al. (eds.): Tradition und Weltoffenheit des Rechts. Festschrift für Helmut Steinberger. Berlin, pp. 259–290. Quaritsch, Helmut (1986): Souveränität. Entstehung und Entwicklung des Begriffs in Frankreich und Deutschland vom 13. Jahrhundert bis 1806. Berlin. Röd, Wolfgang (2002): Benedictus de Spinoza. Eine Einführung. Stuttgart. Seidl-Hohenveldern, Ignaz/Stein, Torsten (2000): Völkerrecht. Köln. Steinberger, Helmut (2000): Sovereignty. In: Bernhardt, Rudolf (ed.): Encyclopedia of Public International Law. vol. 4. Amsterdam, pp. 406–407. Tomuschat, Christian (2001): International Law: Ensuring the Survival of Mankind on the Eve of a New Century. General Course on Public International Law. In: Recueil des Cours/Collected Courses of the Hague Academy of International Law 1999. Den Haag. Vaughan, Charles Edwyn (1939): Studies in the History of Political Philosophy Before and After Rousseau. Edited by A.G. Little. Repr. Manchester. Verdroß, Alfred (1928): Das Völkerrecht im System von Spinoza. In: Zeitschrift für öffentliches Recht, pp. 100–105.

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Walther, Manfred (2003a): Die Staatslehre Spinozas: Die (Neu-)Entdeckung der politischen Philosophie Spinozas durch Adolf Menzel. In: Der Staat 42, pp. 284–298. Walther, Manfred (2003b): Natural Law, Civil Law, and International Law in Spinoza. In: Cardozo Law Review 25, pp. 657–665. Walther, Manfred (2006): Grundzüge der politischen Philosophie Spinozas. In: Hampe, Michael/Schnepf, Robert (eds.): Baruch de Spinoza. Ethik. Berlin, pp. 215–236. Walther, Manfred (2015): Der Begriff des Völkerrechts bei Spinoza. In: Altwicker, Tilmann/Cheneval, Francis/Diggelmann, Oliver (eds.): Völkerrechtsphilosophie der Frühaufklärung. Tübingen, pp. 49–59. Walz, Gustaf Adolf (1930): Wesen des Völkerrechts und Kritik der Völkerrechtsleugner. Stuttgart. Ziegler, Karl-Heinz (1999): Die Bedeutung des Westfälischen Friedens von 1648 für das europäische Völkerrecht. In: Archiv des Völkerrechts 37, pp. 129–151. Ziegler, Karl-Heinz (2004): Zur Entwicklung von Kriegsrecht und Kriegsverhütung im Völkerrecht des 19. und frühen 20. Jahrhunderts. In: Archiv des Völkerrechts 42, pp. 271–293. Ziegler, Karl-Heinz (2007): Völkerrechtsgeschichte. München.

Right and Reason in Spinoza’s Political Philosophy On the Tasks and Limits of State Authority (TP, Chapter 4) Tobias Herbst I

Tasks and Authorities of the Commonwealth and of the Sovereign

From the perspective of the course of thinking across the entire treatise, the first two paragraphs of Chapter 4 present what is essentially a recapitulation of the remarks of the third chapter on the tasks and authorities of the commonwealth or respective sovereign (existing of one or more people) accompanied by an amplifying [ausschmückend] concretization. These tasks and authorities span from legislation to provisions that secure the fulfillment of future tasks. This does not only entail something like the foundation and fortification of cities but also tax collection (4/2). In terms of content, the first two paragraphs bring nothing new. In the third paragraph Spinoza emphasizes that the fulfillment of tasks designated to the state falls solely to the sovereign as his responsibility. Under no circumstances would the subject be permitted to take on these tasks “by his own decision” (suo solo arbitrio) and without the knowledge of the sovereign, even if the subject acts in the best interest of the commonwealth. This somewhat odd example makes clear the meaning of a sovereignty that tolerates no exceptions. It is not only forbidden for subjects to act in self-interest in opposition to the sovereign’s ordinance. It is further forbidden for them to take tasks of the state into their own hands even if doing so is, in their own view (or even objectively), in the interest of the commonwealth and if, in doing so, not infringing upon the express command of the sovereign. Spinoza places more importance here on the unambiguous allocation of competences than on the benefit (intentional or actual) of the commonwealth in particular cases. It is not enough for him that the sovereign can intervene retrospectively and either forbid the unauthorized [eigenmächtig] action of the subject or approve of it, but insists upon the strict distribution of responsibility. Active civil engagement for the common good appears as intolerable resistance to the sovereign when not initiated by the sovereign himself. The fulfillment of state tasks falls within his exclusive responsibility. II

Laws of Right

The remarks following the first three paragraphs are more fruitful. They take up the question concerning the extent to which the sovereign himself is bound © koninklijke brill nv, leiden, ���9 | doi:10.1163/9789004396944_007

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to laws. The fundamental idea is that the exercise of state authority is factically limited – even when it is formally unlimited – as the natural laws forming human preference remain effective. This being the case, certain forms of exercising state authority will weaken the citizens’ willingness to obey or even deplete it entirely. Consequentially, this will weaken the holder of state authority’s administrative power (potestas), suspending it in limit cases. With these considerations in mind, Spinoza’s specific understanding of the concepts “right” and “reason” become clear. At the beginning of the fourth paragraph, Spinoza differentiates between three types of laws: a commonwealth’s laws of right (jura civitatis), the rules or laws “common [to] all natural things” (regulae omnium rerum naturalium communes, henceforth the laws of nature), and the rules of reason (regulae rationis, henceforth the laws of reason). Laws of right are laws issued by the state, that is, positive laws. Spinoza assumes that the state is not bound by the laws it issues because it has the freedom to suspend them at any time and, in limit cases, to reverse them even after their application, which Spinoza makes clear in referring to the right to pardon (4/5). With this Spinoza captures an idea that has already found expression in the Roman legal formula princeps legibus solutus and is integral to the early modern doctrine of sovereignty developed most notably by Bodin.1 In the context of this doctrine of sovereignty freedom from being bound to the right of self-imposed law is not an expression of an absolute claim to power, but rather a precondition for the state’s autonomous establishment of right. The existing laws must be able to be repealed or amended, whether they are created by the current sovereign or one of his predecessors or handed down without precise knowledge of their origin. The binding of a commonwealth to a right of selfimposed laws (in particular concerning the goal of protecting individual freedom against later encroachments by the commonwealth itself) would require a typology of norms by which state norms could stand in a hierarchical relation. With this sort of differentiation, the state legislator could also be bound to a higher positive right (the constitution). The idea of the constitution is nevertheless not conceptualized until the 18th century in connection with the American and French revolutions.2 Spinoza could not yet appeal to this idea.3 1 Bodin 2005, i.8: “Maiestas est summa in cives ac subditos legibusque soluta potestas”. For Bodin as well this does not preclude the bond between the sovereign and other types of laws (God’s laws and Natures’s laws). See also Wyduckel 2006, p. 21, 22f. 2 Cf. Hofmann 1986, pp. 261–295 (in particular, 280ff); Grimm 2002, pp. 100–151; Herbst 2003, pp. 38ff., 53ff. 3 Even in the chapters (6 and 7) concerning the monarchy (cf. the contribution of Walther in this volume), Spinoza does not appeal to the idea of a constitution as fundamental and higher norm of right in this sense. Yet, one could find certain formulations that suggest a legal

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Laws of Nature and Natural Right

While Spinoza rejects a state bond to laws of right, he accepts that the state is bound in certain ways to the laws of nature, laws which are constituted in an entirely different way. Further along in the treatise’s fourth chapter, Spinoza speaks no longer of the laws of nature (regulae omnium rerum naturalium communes), but of natural right (jus naturale). Natural right is nothing other than the “power” (potentia, cf. 4/1; 2/3f) assigned respectively to the things of nature, to individual men, and to the human commonwealth and to its supreme authority.4 Spinoza understands this power (imparted by God or nature) as the possibility of self-preservation and the extent of the capacity to act as they result from purely actual [rein tatsächlich] givens [Gegebenheiten]: “each natural thing has as much right by nature as it has power to exist and have effects” (2/3). It therefore does not concern a rightly or otherwise ideally endowed power, nor does it concern power in a merely political context. It concerns, rather, an entirely general attribute belonging to all subjects capable of acting and all natural things. The power of a subject capable of acting thus finds its limit in the corresponding power of another subject5 (if it happens to reach this far). In line with this, Spinoza binding of the king to a constitution. Thus Spinoza notes, referring to the example of the Persians, “that it’s not at all contrary to practice for these laws to be so firmly established that not even the King himself can repeal them” (7/1). The Odysseus-metaphor that Spinoza invokes to explain a legitimate bond of the king (7/1) also seems to point in this direction. However, Spinoza is not concerned here with a bond of the king to the right of self-imposed laws, but with a bond to the power of the multitude as the basis for his dominion. This becomes particularly clear with Spinoza’s comment closing the monarchy-chapters (7/31): “We conclude, then, that a multitude can preserve a full enough freedom under a King, so long as it brings it about that the King’s power is determined only by the power of the multitude, and is preserved by the multitude’s support. And this was the only Rule I followed in laying the foundations of a Monarchic state”. When Spinoza remarks in 7/1 that “the fundamental principles of the state must be regarded [as it were] as the eternal decrees of the King”, this only expresses the external structural similarity between the consequences of a factical power structure and those of a bond of right and not the bond to an actually lawful and eternally valid right. With this introductory remark to Chapter 7, Spinoza wishes to acquaint the reader with the unusual notion that the king of a monarchy is also subject to certain bonds. The examples that he employs to this end certainly recall bonds of right, yet in his broader remarks he is concerned only with factical bonds. The institutional design stabilizing security conceptualized by Spinoza here only takes account of the kings factical power limitation and does not work with bonds of right. 4 For more detail on natural right, see Bartuschat 1992, pp. 224ff and 234ff. 5 On the relation of individuals to the state see 3/2.

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identifies natural right, as it concerns the relation of various states to one another, with the right of war (jus belli; cf. 4/5; 3/13), because the power of states in relation to one another is determined solely according to their respective (military) strength.6 Considering this definition of natural right it should be obvious where Spinoza sees a “bond” in this respect: the power of the state finds its limits in the opposing power of other subjects or things. The commonwealth has as little right to “make men fly”, as a man is able to make a table “eat grass”, and thus neither have right (jus in the sense of natural right) concerning such impossible acts (4/4). For Spinoza, the concept of “natural right” no longer has the normative meaning of the (Christian) right of nature, but instead a purely descriptive character.7 The state having no right to make men fly does not mean for Spinoza that this is forbidden to the state. It simply means to express that it is actually impossible. This example can be formulated inversely in Spinoza’s terminology: men have the right to not be prompted to fly. In this way there is no normative claim expressed about man. Instead, an ontological statement is made: men cannot be made to fly. Natural right is a property of subjects or things. The encounter and interaction of the respective natural rights of individual subjects and things leads to a situation that can be described as a delimitation of spheres of power conditioned in a particular way. Spinoza’s understanding of natural laws (regulae omnium rerum naturalium commune), addressed at the beginning of the fourth chapter of the Political Treatise,8 is this sort of objective view of natural rights. That state is “bound” to these natural laws insofar as it can act only within the structure of spheres of power that it outlines. In the framework of Spinoza’s political philosophy it is not only foreign states that come into consideration as power factors restricting the state’s ability to act, but also, and first and foremost, its own citizens. 6 On Spinoza’s theory of international relations see also the contribution of Altwicker in this volume. 7 On this change of meaning, see Walther 1986, pp. 55–78. 8 Spinoza equates the concepts “law of nature” and “right of nature” – aside from their relatedness to an objective or subjective viewpoint. Hobbes, by contrast, differentiates here. In his theory, natural right (jus naturale) is the right to all actions serving self-preservation, which is not limited by power relations but subject only to the (erroneous) judgment of the one acting and thus creating fear of fellow human beings. He understands law of nature (lex naturalis), on the other hand, as the general provision of reason which actually serves self-preservation. On the different conceptions of the right of nature in Hobbes and Spinoza, see Röhrich 1969, p. 28f.

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Laws of Reason

Spinoza’s understanding of the state’s bond to natural right or laws of nature as traced to this point is rather banal. If one were to update it with this in mind, one could construct a sort of state mechanics in which the actions – or at least the possibilities of action – of the citizens and of the sovereign ensue from the interaction of participating individuals under the conditions of nature’s general legislation. Spinoza ultimately goes another way however. Woven into the mechanistic manner of argumentation just presented, and thus somewhat hidden, are other strands of argumentation Spinoza makes use of and which are capable of illuminating the problematic of binding states considerably better than one would first assume. For Spinoza, the state is not simply subject to the trivial bonds of general laws of nature, for example, man’s inability to fly, but is held above all to heed the command of reason. The non-trivial limits of state authority come from the laws of reason appearing at the beginning of 4/4 as the third type of law. Spinoza continually emphasizes that the commonwealth is bound to the laws of reason. In 4/4 this is put as follows: “In this sense we can say that the Commonwealth sins when it does something contrary to the dictate of reason (contra rationis dictamen)”.9 What now is this “dictate of reason”, the law of reason? In 4/4, Spinoza points to 3/7 where he remarks that “a Commonwealth will also be the most powerful and the most its own master (maxime sui juris est), if it is founded on and directed by reason”. In this respect the same is valid in the state of nature for the commonwealth as is for men, who “are most their own masters when they can exert the most power with their reason, and are most guided by reason” (2/11). The expression “most their own masters”10 is used by Spinoza in correspondence with his equation of (natural) right and power in the sense of having-power: Each man is subject to someone else’s control so long as he is under the other person’s power, and that he is his own master so long as he can fend off every force and avenge an injury done to him, as seems good to him, and absolutely, insofar as he can live according to his own mentality (2/9).

9 10

On the bond of the state to the laws of reason, see also Röhrich 1969, p. 83ff. Transl.: The phrase in German is “unter eigenem Recht stehen”, translating literally to “to stand under one’s own right”. This has been modified here in accordance with Curley’s translation of Spinoza. See Section v of Gunnar Hindrich’s contribution to this volume.

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For Spinoza, reason is an instrument of power and indeed the most important. Human power is assessed “not so much by the strength of the Body as by the strength of the Mind” (2/11). Use of reason prevents the danger of “be[coming] subject to someone else’s control [author: influence] insofar as the other person can deceive him” (2/11) and therefore of losing power. Reason delivers information necessary to self-preservation and the assertion of power. Spinoza assumes for every man a pursuit of self-preservation (2/7). In his Ethics, he had already developed this idea of conatus in suo esse perseverandi proper to men and all things in general.11 In Spinoza’s political philosophy this pursuit of self-preservation is now the force driving the formation of human society. Because man alone, or in the state of nature, is hardly in the position to care for its own self-preservation, men merge into states (2/15). States, considered as active subjects, also have a pursuit of self-preservation.12 Like the individual man, the state also employs reason for this purpose. Reason cannot only make statements regarding what serves self-preservation and what harms it. It can also indicate what best serves self-preservation (cf. 5/1). Spinoza thus understands the dictate of self-preservation not only as a command to somehow preserve one’s own existence, but as a command to optimize: Self-preservation should happen in the best possible manner. An enforcement to act in a rational manner directed by self-preservation exists just as little for the state as it does for the individual man. Like the individual man, the state can act irrationally and thereby endanger its self-preservation. The bond to the law of reason is of another sort than the bond to laws of right and another also than the bond to the laws of nature. The one who defies the laws of reason endangers his true interests, possibly without knowing it. The 11 12

Cf. E3 P6: “Each thing, as far as it can by its own power, strives to persevere in its being”. On the conatus and its meaning in Spinoza’s political philosophy, see Yoshida 2004, p. 21ff. Spinoza asserts, though not expressly, that states have their own conatus. It becomes clear, in my opinion, from his representation of states’ relation among one another in 3/11–18 and in particular from his indication of the parallel to man’s “Standing-underhis-own-right” [unter-eigenem-Recht-sein] (sui juris esse) and “subject-to-foreign-right” [fremdem-Recht-unterworfen-sein] (alterius juris esse) that Spinoza assumes that states have a natural right (power) and a striving towards self-preservation just like men. For comprehensive and convincing commentary on the contentious problem of “collective conatus”, see Abdo Ferez 2007, p. 107ff. The acceptance of a collective conatus of the state does not, in fact, imply complete subordination of the individual to the state. The conatus of an individual man is not lost in the state such that a liberal, non-collective interpretation of Spinoza’s political philosophy also remains possible. Assumption of a collective conatus of the state also appears suited to the central position of the state in Spinoza’s political philosophy. The interpretation of the state as mere spontaneous, contingent cooperation of particular individuals (on this direction see Bartuschat 1992, p. 262ff.) is not, in my mind, satisfactory.

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consequence of this defiance consists in a decrease in its own power. Spinoza compares the defiance of the laws of reason with a situation “in which Philosophers or Doctors say that nature sins” (philosophi vel medici naturam peccare dicunt; 4/4). The exceptional character of the bond to laws of reason becomes evident by the fact that Spinoza sees no restriction of freedom (libertas) in this bond. For Spinoza, freedom, understood as “a virtue, or perfection”, appears not in the possibility to choose freely between rational and irrational action, rather it is realized when a man acts such that he preserves himself. Therefore, reason shows man the best way to act in order to preserve himself. Rational action, properly understood, serves man’s interest in self-preservation (2/7; 2/11). The same is valid for the commonwealth. It is only bound to the laws of reason in the sense that man is bound to them in the state of nature, as precaution against its own demise. In this way the commonwealth does not submit itself to the laws of reason. Instead, by heading them, it realizes its (true) freedom (4/5). In Spinoza’s political theory, the laws of reason are what first supplies a basis for the binding of state authority, a binding which has a normative character.13 The other two types of laws are not able to do this. As seen, the state is not bound to the laws of right it imposes and natural right reveals only the actual limits of state power, concerned with Could and not Should. The reason Spinoza appeals to is an instrumental reason that serves to reach a predefined goal, self-preservation. This reason only formulates hypothetical imperatives, not categorical. Therefore, concerning normativity, it seems that the dictate of self-preservation alone points the way ahead. In order to be able to derive concrete instructions for action from the self-preservation’s dictate, instrumental-technical reason requires additional information, most importantly information about the state that should be preserved and the men in this state. As in the classic theories on societal contracts where the result of the respective theory is dependent upon decisions about the character of the state of nature and the underlying image of man,14 the content of the laws of nature that Spinoza derives from the dictate of self-preservation essentially come from the image of man and state found in his thought. It is thus first possible to formulate rational rules of acting for a subject’s self-preservation when the particulars of this subject and his environment are known. In Spinoza’s political theory this is valid not only for men (themselves subject to a 13

14

As in Spinoza’s ontologically founded philosophy, the concern here is not with a de-ontological normativity. The laws of reasons are not oriented by absolute categories like “good” and “bad”. They merely provide information as to what serves self-preservation and, in this respect, suggest a particular action to a state interested in self-preservation. On this see Kersting 1996, p. 50ff.

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dictate of self-preservation), but also for the state, which has its own dictate of self-preservation. For Spinoza, the state must take human nature into account in exercising the dominion that serves the goal of self-preservation (4/4; already in 3/8). Human nature is not reduced to fear as it is in Hobbes.15 If the state cannot reach its goal due to the complex nature of man, whose variety of affects16 can oppose the state’s intention violently, the state itself is not then permitted to use violence. The respect of subjects can only be produced through something close to impeccable behavior on behalf of the ruler or rulers. Therefore, rulers are not permitted to make a mockery of themselves, be it in a drastic manner, whereby the ruler “run[s] drunken or naked, through the streets with prostitutes” or less drastically, for example, “to openly violate or disdain the laws he himself has made” (4/4). In this case violence as a means of securing dominion is ruled out because it is not, according to the nature of man, appropriate for generating respect. Spinoza places consideration of human nature at the level of natural law’s limiting of dominion – the ridiculous ruler is as little able to garner respect (even through violence) as the commonwealth is able to make men fly (4/4). The necessity of accounting for human nature represents a limitation on state authority. With this example it becomes clear that Spinoza bases his political theory not only on the particular image of man developed in the third section of the Ethics, but that he also has a determined idea of the state which precedes its theoretical construction in the Political Treatise. The question is not simply whether or not respect can be created through violence, it is whether or not the elevated position of the sovereign should at all rest upon respect. Spinoza does not pose this question here. He assumes it is self-evident that the position of the sovereign must at least be grounded in respect. Spinoza gives absolutely no consideration to a regime of sheer terror based on the sovereign’s use of violence and threat. The state to which Spinoza gives rational counsels for selfpreservation is established on mutual recognition and not violence.17 15 16

17

On the difference between the reductionalist image of man in Hobbes and Spinoza’s complex image of man, which rests upon the tie to differing affects and is arranged socially, see Abdo Ferez 2007, p. 198ff. On the doctrine of affects and its meaning for Spinoza’s political philosophy, see Yoshida 2004, p. 21ff. On the relation between knowledge of reason and affects in Spinoza’s Ethics generally and the extent to which – something widely underestimated – it can be seen as an alternative to Kant’s critique of reason, see Wiehl 1983. In the Theological-Political Treatise (ttp), Spinoza uses a Seneca quote (“no one has sustained a violent regime for long; moderate ones last”) to indicate that a regime of violence is more arduous to maintain than a moderate regime and concludes from this for the sovereign that “he ought to have something above ordinary human nature. If he does not […] he at least must strive with all his might to persuade the common people of this”.

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In the ontological foundation of Spinoza’s political theory, which takes specific images of man and state as its basis, one can see a certain constructive deficiency. If one compares Spinoza’s theory with one like Hobbes’, Spinoza’s seems less stringent because it requires more ontological assumptions. However, with such comparisons one is not permitted to overlook that the quality of a theory is not simply measured by the number of ontological assumptions, but also by the their plausibility and the plausibility of the theory’s outcomes. It is from this perspective that Spinoza rightly expresses criticism of Hobbes. He rejects the foundation of the state on fear alone. In contrast to Hobbes, a state of purely forced pacification and, as such, the mere absence of war, is not yet peace for Spinoza (5/4) and peace, as well as the security of life (pax vitaeque securitas) are the true goals of the state (5/2). In Spinoza’s eyes, Hobbes’ state neglects the true purpose of a state. This type of state “would be more properly called a wasteland than a Commonwealth” (rectius solitudo quam civitas dici potest; 5/4). With his nuanced images of man and state, Spinoza arrives at a political theory appearing much more modern than Hobbes’ Leviathan. In the end, it is due to the complexity of men and politics that he must consider more presuppositions than Hobbes. V

The Existence of Laws of Right as Dictate of Reason

Aside from the laws of reason, Spinoza also recognizes a bond of state authority in the existence of laws and rules as being directly constitutive for the commonwealth: “For if a Commonwealth weren’t bound by any laws, or rules, without which the Commonwealth would not be a Commonwealth, then we’d have to think of it, not as a natural thing, but as a fantasy” (4/4). The constitutive meaning of the laws of right for the commonwealth comes early in the text: The sovereignty of the state, which has only the “power of the multitude” (multitudinis potentia) at its disposal as a source of power, is best secured when “all are led as if by one mind” (una veluti mente ducuntur),18 which is the case

18

Moreover, men should be “checked not so much by fear as by the hope of some good they desire very much. For in this way everyone will do his duty eagerly” (ttp 5). Already with its pursuit of self-preservation, the state speaks against a regime of violence. This estimation again underlies his specific image of men as a basic ontological assumption (men are more easily moved to contribute to the state through persuasion than violence). This coordinated acting of the multitude does not yet make them a distinct being carried by intellectual homogeneity and capable to acting independently. The coordination must be effected by persons or institutions consonant with the prevailing affects. On this, see Hofmann 2001, pp. 429–453 (443).

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“where men have common rights” (2/15–17) “established according to the prescription of reason” (ex rationis praescripto institutae sint; 2/21). The particular power of the state, which substantially surpasses that of the individual, ­emerges through the coordination of the power quanta of individuals. This type of coordination demands laws or rules.19 The coordinated laws or rules thematized here concern the laws of right set by the state itself. In the next paragraph (4/5), Spinoza determines that the state is not bound to these laws or rules. It is the case that the mere existence of any (rational) laws of right is constitutive of the state. These can be repealed or revised by the state at any time. A bond exists only in the sense that the state must have laws of right. For the state, issuing laws of right is a command of reason because the existence of such laws serves its self-preservation on the basis of their coordination function. That Spinoza, in seeming contradiction with his remarks in 4/5, speaks in this context of a bond of the commonwealth (civitas) to laws of right, may represent a mere imprecision. The laws of right actually bind the individual citizens of the commonwealth and not the commonwealth itself. However, there is a sense in which a binding of the commonwealth itself to laws of right follows from Spinoza’s argumentation, despite the possibility of repeal and revision and, in this respect, the apparent contradiction dissolves. If one continues with Spinoza’s thinking, it results that the state, even when it revises or repeals its self-decreed laws of right, must maintain their constitutive, coordinating function. Revisions of law that are erratic or nonsensical are impossible, insofar as this would create chaos and destroy coordination. The state must proceed cautiously when it comes to intervening with its own laws because it could otherwise destroy itself.20 It does not have unlimited power over laws and is in this sense – and only in this sense – bound to them. VI

The Social Contract

At the end of the fourth chapter Spinoza briefly discusses the doctrine of the social contract. He represents this agreement (contractus) as “the laws by which a multitude transfers its right to a council or a man” (leges, quibus m ­ ultitude jus suum in unum concilium vel hominem transferunt), thus a sort of agreement of

19 20

More specifically on the “power of the multitude”, see Hindrichs 2006, pp. 13–40. See also the remark of Spinoza in 4/4 according to which a commonwealth is destroyed due to a loss of its subject’s respect when the ruler openly violates or disdains the laws he has made.

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dominion or rule. Unlike Hobbes,21 Spinoza does not construct his political theory in the Political Treatise on the doctrine of the social contract. The social contract appears in the Political Treatise merely as a certain type of law.22 In the context corresponding to the thematic of the fourth chapter, Spinoza treats only the question of whether or not the sovereign is bound to the social contract, rejecting a direct bond of the sovereign to the social contract. Were it demanding for the common good, then the social contract must be broken, and the responsibility to decide what serves the common good belongs solely to the ruler to whom the multitude has transferred its power. Here Spinoza points to his remarks on the prohibition of unauthorized fulfillment of the state’s tasks by subjects (4/3). Nevertheless there can be a type of indirect bond of the sovereign to the social contract, namely, when breach of contract would lead to such public outrage that the commonwealth would dissolve. In this case, reason, aimed at the self-preservation of the commonwealth, demands the observance of the social contract corresponding to the “right of war”. Spinoza clearly recognizes a feature that is not only proper to Hobbes’ contract theory, but to nearly all later contract theories including modern variants (for example, Rawls). According to these theories, the “bond” created by the 21

22

Hobbes 1996, p. 134f. A constructive distinction between the social contract as sketched here by Spinoza and the Hobbesian variant consists in that, for Hobbes, men do not transfer their right to the sovereign. On the contrary, they one-sidedly renounce their right so that the sovereign, who does not take part in the contract, is not met with opposition when he exercises the natural right remaining to him alone. For Spinoza, men maintain at least part of their power, that is, their natural right, even in the civil state. They appear with Spinoza as agents whose power as individuals is indeed inferior to that of state authority, but who are always required as the actual source of the power based on coordinating individual contributions of power and represent a factor of power independent from the state which the state must each time consider and which must be integrated into state affairs as institutionally as possible. With Hobbes, by contrast, subjects are practically left out of the theory after having made the contract. They appear merely as threats to the sovereign which he must encounter. See also Spinoza’s remarks in EP 50, “As far as Politics is concerned, the difference you ask about, between Hobbes and me, is this: I always preserve natural Right unimpaired, and I maintain that in each State the Supreme Magistrate has no more right over its subjects than it has greater power over them. This is always the case in the state of Nature”. Otherwise as in the Political Treatise (TP), in the ttp (in Chapter 16 of that text), Spinoza still appeals to the idea of the social contract as a constructive element of his political theory. On this, see Yoshida 2004, p. 99ff, even though, in my view, the idea of the social contract in the ttp plays more of a side role, on the other hand, it also has not completely disappeared in TP, such that Yoshida’s attempt to represent as a sharp break that Spinoza no longer makes express use of the social contract in the TP is not convincing. On the “contractualist argument” in Spinoza, also see Kersting 1996, p. 103ff.

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social contract is not based on the concluding of the contract as such, as it is with something like the case of founding a club. Instead, the social contract “binds” the citizens and, when appropriate, the sovereign by way of intersubjective rationality.23 In contract theory the content of the social contract is determined according to what those concluding the contract rationally (hypothetically) decide upon. The social contract’s ability to reach consensus provides the argument for its legitimacy. In this respect the conclusion of the contract as such has no meaning. In most variants of the theory it is not even posited as a real event [realer Vorgang].24 Spinoza clearly recognized this structure of social contract theory, possibly more clearly than some contract theorists themselves (including later contract theorists). Accordingly, Spinoza also had no problem with that situation in which the social contract proves itself to be irrational. As soon as the common good demands it, the contract can be “broken”. It is consistent that Spinoza does not build his own political theory on the notion of the social contract with the unclear constructive break of its function in the form of concluding the contract, basing it instead upon the individual citizen’s rationally coordinated interest in self-preservation at any given moment (and not only at the conclusion of a contract).25 Bibliography Abdo Ferez, Maria Cecilia (2007): Die Produktivität der Macht. Eine Analyse der politischen Theorie von Baruch Spinoza. Berlin. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1992): Spinozas Theorie des Menschen. Hamburg. Bodin, Jean (2005): Six livres de la République/Über den Staat. Stuttgart. 23

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Wolfgang Kersting has convincingly worked out the structure of the “contractualist argument” in social contract theory: Kersting 1996, p. 19ff. The “bond” to the – hypothetical! – social contract occurs not as legal consequence of concluding the contract or from a promise given together with the conclusion, but rather from the convincing rationality of the contract’s content. This is also the case with Hobbes (on this, see Kersting 1996, p. 81ff). The frequent objection to Hobbes, that a social contract concluded in the state of nature would not be able to bind in any way because the possibility of contractual obligation already presupposes the state to first be established, rests on a false historical understanding of Hobbesian contract theory. Hobbes does not argue vis-á-vis those living in the state of nature in order to motivate them to sign a contract in the future. He argues against the citizens of an already existing state in order to motivate them to remain in the civil state. Kersting 1996, p. 32ff. On socialization in Spinoza’s political theory as well as a comparison with Hobbes, see Kreische 2000, p. 228ff.

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Herbst, Tobias (2003): Legitimation durch Verfassunggebung. Baden-Baden. Hindrichs, Gunnar (2006): Die Macht der Menge – der Grundgedanke in Spinozas politischer Philosophie. In: Id. (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Über die Aktualität einer Denkfigur Spinozas. Heidelberg, pp. 13–40. Hobbes, Thomas (1996): Leviathan oder Stoff, Form und Gewalt eines kirchlichen und bürgerlichen Staates. Edited by Iring Fetscher. 7. edition. Frankfurt a. M. Hofmann, Hasso (1986): Zur Idee des Staatsgrundgesetzes. In: Id. (ed.): Recht – Politik – Verfassung. Studien zur Geschichte der politischen Philosophie. Frankfurt a. M., pp. 261–295. Hofmann, Hasso (2001): Das Politische in Spinozas »Politischem Traktat«. In: Bohnert, Joachim et al. (eds.): Verfassung – Philosophie – Kirche. Festschrift für Alexander Hollerbach zum 70. Geburtstag. Berlin, pp. 429–453. Kersting, Wolfgang (1996): Die politische Philosophie des Gesellschaftsvertrags. Darmstadt. Kreische, Joachim (2000): Konstruktivistische Politiktheorie bei Hobbes und Spinoza. Baden-Baden. Mohnhaupt, Heinz/Grimm, Dieter (2002): Verfassung. Zur Geschichte des Begriffs von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart. 2. edition Berlin. Röhrich, Wilfried (1969): Staat der Freiheit. Zur politischen Philosophie Spinozas. Darmstadt. Walther, Manfred (1986): Die Transformation des Naturrechts in der Rechtstheorie Spinozas. In: Der Staat 25, pp. 55–78. Wiehl, Reiner (1983): Die Vernunft in der menschlichen Unvernunft. Das Problem der Rationalität in Spinozas Affektenlehre. Göttingen. Wyduckel, Dieter (2006): Absolutismus. In: Heun, Werner et al. (eds.): Evangelisches Staatslexikon. Neuausgabe. Stuttgart, p. 21/22f. Yoshida, Kazuhiko (2004): Vernunft und Affektivität. Untersuchungen zu Spinozas Theorie der Politik. Würzburg.

Theory of the Best State (TP, Chapter 5) Martin Leiner I

Place of the Fifth Chapter in the Political Treatise

Aside from the fragmentary eleventh chapter, the fifth is the shortest in the Political Treatise (TP). It is of great and decisive importance for understanding the work as a whole, functioning as a sort of hinge in the TP’s composition.1 Up to Chapter iv, Spinoza dealt with questions concerning the primordial constitution of state and right. Starting with Chapter vi, the concern becomes the best possible configuration for the respectively given form of rule. Monarchy, aristocracy, and (fragmentarily) democracy are discussed with respect to the optimization of their respective legal constitution [rechtliche Verfassung]. The arrangement of the second part of the TP can therefore be called political science in the strict sense. Attending to the structural transformation of the text’s inquiry has consequences for understanding the Political Treatise which are not to be underestimated. II

Definition of the Task

The power-theory system of the first section is maintained in 5/1. It concerns how a state must be constituted in order that it is “most its own master” (5/1). This formulation refers back to 2/9, where Spinoza explained the sui juris esse. “Formulated without restriction (absolute)”, the sui juris esse is identical with quatenus ex suo ingenio vivere potest. Man is of his own right to the extent that he can live according to his own mentality. The constitution of the state according to which he can develop the type of action specific to himself is therefore thematic (cf. paragraph 3). It happens that, analogous to what Spinoza has said in 3/7 regarding the conditions under which a man “is most his own master”, “a Commonwealth is [also] most powerful, and most its own master, when it’s founded on and directed by reason” (5/1). It does not follow that, because something is factually constituted in such and such a way, this also concerns the best possible conditions regarding the state. The goal of the investigation

1 In discussions of the importance of the TP as a whole, expounders generally recur to passages of the introduction (TP 1) and the fifth chapter.

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is not the particular being (esse) of a determinate condition of rule, but rather the being-good (bene esse) of a state’s constitution. III

The Criteria for Optimizing the State’s Constitution

III.1 Security, Peace, and Harmony as State’s Goal The question of the “best condition of each state” can only be answered if the criteria of optimization are certain. This is the “end of the civil state”, which ­Spinoza determines as the “peace and security of life” (5/2). With these remarks, Spinoza brings himself closer to Hobbes’ intended purpose.2 In ­Chapter 17 of Leviathan, this is exemplified as such: The finall Cause, End, or Designe of men, (who naturally love Liberty, and Domination over others,) in the introduction if that restraint upon themselves, (in which wee see them live in Common-wealths,) is the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of Warre.3 In terms of content, Spinoza’s determination of peace is considerably more ambitious than Hobbes’. For Hobbes peace was the absence of war.4 For Spinoza peace is best present in a state when “men pass their lives harmoniously and […] laws are kept without violation” (5/2). The state is at its best precisely when harmony occurs together with the untouched validity of the law. With the discussion of concordia in the state, Spinoza likely alludes to Cicero’s music allegory in De Republica ii, 42. The harmony (concordia) of different men can occur in the state just as harmony emerges from the attunement of different instruments and tones in music. Spinoza does not analyze this allusion in the following argumentation. Instead, he directly formulates the thesis that “we should impute rebellions, wars, and contempt for, or violation of, the 2 Ramond 2006, pp. 171–181 (117), provides historical and canonical [werkgeschichtlich] explanations for the appearance of security as state goal. The deep trauma caused by the murder of the De Witt brothers in 1672, as Balibar 1998, pp. 50–53 had already shown, had changed the orientation of philosophical thinking from freedom to security. In terms of works, Ramond believes himself to find a simplification of argumentation in discussions of security. The TP has the tendency to correspond to this observation. Whatever one thinks of these factors, Spinoza’s concrete considerations occur with conscious appeal to and conscious transformation of Hobbes’ theory. 3 Hobbes 1985, Part 2, Chapter 17, p. 223. 4 Cf. Hobbes 1983, i, 12. Bartuschat’s remarks on 5/2 also point to this section of Hobbes.

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laws not so much to the wickedness of the subjects as to the corruption of the state” (5/2). Spinoza argues for this thesis with a type of indirect demonstration. One can logically formulate this argumentation as follows: Premise 1: The natural affects of men are everywhere the same. Premise 2: If the cause is everywhere the same, the effects must also be everywhere the same. It follows that the state of peace must be everywhere the same if it is the effect of a natural affect. Premise 3: This is not the case. There are differentiations in the state of peace realized in different states. Conclusion: It follows that a factor other than the natural affects of men is the cause of differing states of peace in different states. For Spinoza, the only possibility for such a cause is the condition of the state (status imperii).5 From this perspective, the state is given great importance regarding the vices and virtues of its citizens. Just as the vices (vitia) of subjects are to be attributed to the state’s weakness, their goodness is “to be attributed most to the virtue of the commonwealth and its absolute right” (5/3). With this statement Spinoza appeals to 2/15 where he showed that the state of nature is a state of uncertainty, rightlessness, violence, and helplessness. Virtue is not viable in this situation and, what is still more important for Spinoza, it is not thinkable, because virtue, like civil right, is a regulated development of man’s power. However, this sort of regulated development of power is either not possible or only possible in very small measure in the state of nature. The reduction of virtue and vice to the situation of the political system is thus more an analytic judgment than it is synthetic. Nevertheless this judgment is supported by an empiric example from ancient history. It is rightly attributable to the virtue of Hannibal that rebellion never broke out in his army.6 IV

What Is “Peace”, What Is “Harmony”?

Starting in § 4, Spinoza differentiates between two fundamental forms of state stability: one motivated by fear and one motivated by virtue. The commonwealth “pacified” by fear corresponds to the political construct represented 5 Spinoza contemplates other factors, for example, the economic situation of citizens, the homogeneity of the population, or traditional religious and ethics bonds or their lack. In a generous interpretation, however, one can accommodate all of these in a broad concept of status imperii. Spinoza nevertheless frequently takes up such factors in his remarks on the individual forms of state. 6 The reference to Hannibal stands in strange contrast to Titus Livius’ ambivalent description of his virtuousness, Ab urbe condita xxi, 4 as well as the description of Hannibal coming from numerous other Roman authors, cf. Barceló 1998, p. 9.

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by Hobbes in the Leviathan (Section 2, Ch. 17). Spinoza sharply criticizes this commonwealth with his concept of peace. What reigns there is not peace but the absence of war. As defined by Spinoza, peace is “a virtue which arises from strength of mind. For obedience is a constant will to do what must be done in accordance with the common decree of the Commonwealth” (5/4). A commonwealth based on fear does not establish the virtue of loyalty. For this reason it actually cannot even be named a commonwealth (civitas). Instead, borrowing an expression from Tacitus (De vita Julii Agricolae 30), it must be called a wasteland (solitudo). The subjects of this kind of political entity are trained like slaves and led like cows. The development of actual human virtue is not possible in a state built on fear. The subjects are intimidated by fear (metu territi) and determined by languor (inertia). § 5 elaborates these statements in further confrontation with Hobbes. Spinoza’s remark that “human life” is “defined not merely by the circulation of blood, and other things common to all animals” (5/5) is an invocation of Hobbes (Leviathan, Section 2, Ch. 30). Human life is defined first and foremost by reason as a virtue of the mind. Hobbes’ political philosophy gives it too small a role. V

“Freedom” as Token of the Best State

In § 6 Spinoza differentiates two forms of state emergence. One form of state arises through the surrender of a population in a war; the other is established by the free multitude (multitudo libera instituit). In principle this differentiation is congruent with the differentiation found in Hobbes (Leviathan, Section 2, Chs. 18–20) between Common-wealth by Institution and Commonwealth by Acquisition. “Common-wealth by Acquisition” exists “where the Soveraign 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”.7 The difference from Spinoza becomes clear when Hobbes attributes both forms of government to fear and, in doing so, minimizes their contrast. This occurs in the paragraph immediately following what has just been cited: And this kind of Dominion, or Soveraignty, differth from Soveraignty by Institution, onely in this, That men who chosse their Soveraign, do it for 7 Hobbes 1985, Section 2, Ch. 20, p. 251f.

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fear of one another, and not of him whom they institute: But in this case, they subject themselves, to him they are afraid of. In both cases they do it for fear.8 The double emphasis on the free multitude that is led more by hope than by fear provides an instructive clue regarding the oft-discussed theme of the potentia multitudinis in Spinoza. A power circuit emerges between the multitude and a government only when a free multitude comes to the fore. The free multitude gives the government assertive power in the sense of potestas for the sake of increasing total power and indeed with the goal of securing the individual developmental power of its members/citizens. The government’s potestas obtains stability and continuity in the common growth and mutual sharing of developmental power (potentia). Where in the Theological-Political Treatise (ttp) Spinoza had remarked, “[s]o the end of the Republic is really freedom”, in the TP the only state goals specified are security and peace. This is initially surprising and has occasioned the conjecture that Spinoza, prompted by the internal political events of 1672, may have moved from being an advocate of freedom to a security propagandist.9 §§ 4–6 nevertheless show that a constitutive connection exists between the two determinations of the state. Maximal security and maximum peace emerge precisely through the highest possible degrees of autonomy and reason. VI

Pro Liberatate: Spinoza’s Machiavelli Reception in Chapter 5

In § 7 Spinoza is concerned with Machiavelli’s book Il Principe. He understands this book as a description of how a state can be made stable by resting upon the subjugation of subjects. According to Spinoza, the means used by the prince, who is driven solely by libido dominandi, show that the free multitude must guard itself against entrusting its well-being [Heil] to an absolute ruler. Machiavelli offers ideas (particularly in his Discorsi) that possess a certain parallelism to Spinoza’s line of thought in the TP. According to Machiavelli, a republic is more stable than an autocracy because the virtú of the sum of cititzens

8 Hobbes 1985, Section 2, Ch. 20, p. 252. 9 The lack of a plea for freedom is often assessed as a weakness of the TP in relation to the ttp. This weakness can partially explain the lesser reception of the TP. Along these lines see Ramond 2006, p. 172: “Spinoza ne reprend pas, loin de là, dans le Traité Politique, le magnifique plaidoyer pour la liberté de penser qui animait le Traité Théologico-Politique”.

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supporting the state is greater than the virtú of a ruler and the reluctantly obedient masses.10 Spinoza provides an interpretation of Machiavelli’s intention in bonam partem. Machiavelli, whose republican and liberal orientation is known to Spinoza, must have had the intention in composing the Prince to warn citizens to get rid of their princes. Only fear of the prince would allow him to exercise his repression tyrannically. Additionally, he may have also had the intention to show how dangerous it is to entrust the well being of the commonwealth to an individual.11 VII

The New Question of the Best Form of Dominion

Spinoza treats the new question of the best form of state by appealing to the end [Zweck] of the civil state (finis status civilis). If one seeks the help of Spinoza’s Ethics to more closely determine the discourse on the civil state’s end, it becomes clear that this end cannot be a goal set by God. God’s action is always necessary and is never characterized by ends (cf. E1 P35 and P36). Only man’s rational formation of state goals comes in question as the end of the state. Spinoza’s contentual definition of this end as “peace and security of life” (5/2: pax vitaeque securitas) is at first surprising. There are two reasons for this: Spinoza had already given another answer to the criteria of the best state in the first paragraph of the fifth chapter. These criteria are to be “most its own master” (5/1: maxime sui juris essei) and, what amounts to the same, to be “guided by the prescription of reason” (5/1: maxime ratione ducitur).

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Cf. Münkler 1982, pp. 321–328. It is more likely that Machiavelli does not directly influence the thesis that good laws have an influence on the virtue of men. It is probably mediated by James Harrington (1611–1677) who, similar to Spinoza, read Machiavelli as a republican. The proverbial sounding dictum, “Give us good orders, and they will make us good men”, stems from his book “The Commonwealth of Oceania” (1656) (Harrington 1977, p. 205). This interpretation of the book, placed on the index by Pope Paul iv in 1559, is unusual. There was, however, in England and Scotland, a line of interpretation that read Machiavelli from his republican outlook. In his remarks on TP (p. 235) Bartuschat names the work of Alberico Gentili De legationibus libri iii (appearing in London in 1585) where, on p. 101, Machiavelli is represented as “Democratiae laudator et assertor acerrimus; […] tyrannidis summe inimicus”. See also, Ramond 2006, pp. 171–183. Gentili (1552–1608), who came from Italy and was later a law professor at Oxford, was an important facilitator of liberal ideas from the Renaissance in England. The most famous representatives of a democratic reading of Machiavelli on the British islands were James Harrington and Andrew Fletcher in his “Discours of Government with relation to Mitilia’s” (1698).

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Moreover, since the best way of living, to preserve yourself as much as possible, is one guided by the prescription of reason, it follows that the best course is the one a man or a Commonwealth pursues, insofar as it’s most its own master (5/1). The critical reader may also have the impression that, at the beginning of the fifth chapter, Spinoza simply sets one set of criteria for the best form of ­dominion – guidance by reason, self-preservation, and autonomy – without a closer contextual explanation in order to then name a new and entirely different criterion in § 2 – peace and security of life. The surprise of this second criterion is even greater given that Spinoza had still emphasized freedom in the Theological-Political Treatise (1670) (particularly ttp xx, 6: “the end of the Republic is really freedom”). A renewed contradiction appears to open. A political system that places security at the center of its organization will, according to prejudice that remains widespread today, work sooner towards the restriction of freedom than the autonomy of its citizens. It also focuses stronger on feeling than reason. From the fear of religious reverence to ecstatic feelings of community, there is an entire palette of politically applicable emotions that establish dominion. With this said, Spinoza’s progressive and liberating impulse cannot be emphasized enough. Against the theorists and manipulators of feelings, Spinoza seeks to show that no contradiction exists here. Freedom appears here under the title of being one’s own master. One can ask whether the ttp’s position emphasizing freedom is given up or retained in a minimal formulation. The statements of the TP, at least upon first view, allow a reading that sees a concern with a naturalization of human freedom. Self-preservation is central for state citizens as it is with the objects of nature. The ability of fundamental ontological concepts to quantify mathematically and their equality between physical nature and state citizens seems to be the goal of numerous formulations in the TP, in particular when compared to the ttp. Charles Ramond has recently brought attention to this perspective under the titles12 of “Physicalisation du politique” and “Spinozian reductionalism”. Because the question of the naturalization of freedom is decisive for the interpretation of the entire TP, this thesis should be briefly presented and critically examined. Ramond writes: The disappearance of every reference to a “social contract”, which Alexandre Matheron has so aptly observed, suspends every rupture in the political treatise between the physical order assembling individual things 12

Both terms are found in Ramond 2006, p. 177.

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and the political order assembling citizens, cities, or states. Man definitively ceases being a “state within a state” in nature and the universal law of self-preservation in being accordingly extends across things, men, and citizens completely homogenously. […] According to the suspension of each discontinuity between the physical and political orders, Spinoza no longer distinguishes between the essence or definition of a thing (which must be without contradiction), the existence of an individual thing (which presupposes the permanence of a composition of smaller individual things without conflict amongst each other), or the “peace” of a city, which is only another type of designation for the existence or essence of the city, which logically means its internal freedom from contradiction and, physically observed, the positivity of its composition.13 That there are traces in the TP (4/6) of the discourse of contract theory already speaks against this perspective. If these traces could still be minimalized, then one could hardly overlook that the theme of freedom runs throughout the TP.14 The TP knows a rich manner of speaking of phenomena related to freedom such as despotism, the will of individuals or of the commonwealth (3/4), or decision and resolution (for example, 3/5). The posing of numerous problems, such as the adoption of the commonwealth’s decision by all or the dialectic of ethical and political self-determination,15 cannot be understood without the assumption of freedom. Spinoza’s rejection of slavery cannot be understood with a naturalized image of man that eliminates freedom. As Thomas Hee­ rich has shown, the more innovative accomplishment of both treatises is not the elimination of the discourse on freedom, but this discourse’s being made fruitful in a circular understanding of power differentiating between capability (potentia) and administrative authority (potestas).16 Finally, the discussion of sui juris esse in 5/1 is not to be understood as logical and physical freedom from contradiction but is related to the dialectic of ethical and political freedom. Concepts such as self-preservation in relation to man must also be interpreted from the perspective of freedom. “According to Spinoza, the natural right of self-preservation concerns not only the preservation of existence and of physical integrity, but at the same time concerns the preservation, indeed the increase, of intellectual potency, which is to say the essential freedom of man”.17 13 14 15 16 17

Ramond 2006, p. 177f. One look in the index of the French/Latin edition of the TP by Moreau (1979) shows that the word freedom (libertas) does not occur less in the TP than the word peace. Cf. Walther 2001, pp. 89–103. Heerich 2005, pp. 47–79. Röd 1978, p. 206.

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Chapter v as Hinge between Chapters i–iv and vi–xi

Looking at the history of the work, one can view TP 1–4 as a reduced recapitulation of those fundamental principles of political science already developed in the ttp and freed from problematic theories such as the social contract. It is first in Chapter iv that the truly new statements of the Treatise ensue. Charles Ramond, who entertains this perspective, finds the decisive question for interpreting the entire TP in the fifth chapter: Qualis autem optimus cujuscunque imperii sit status (5/2: “what the best condition for each state is”). For Ramond, Spinoza’s aim in writing the TP is to precisely conceive the question of the best possible configuration for each of the three fundamental forms of dominion: monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. If one agrees with this overall interpretation of the TP,18 then the logical relation between Chapters i–iv and everything following Chapter vi remains to be clarified. It would be logically possible, for example, that one sees the first part of the Treatise as a fictional description of the emergence of right and state in the primordial condition while the second part offers the concrete historical representation of state and right. The first part would then be a recapitulation of the considerations of the ttp owing to the discussions of the time about the primal state. The assertions which are actually relevant would then come in the second part. One labels this manner of interpretation as division according to the model “primordial conditions – history”. Against this interpretation one can say that principles are continually raised in the second part that were developed in the first part. Another interpretation would be to find in the first part the general principles of political philosophy that would be made concrete in the second part. All assertions in the second would then have to be read so that the truth of the formulations in the first part is at all times presupposed. For example, following this interpretation right is not something essentially different in a monarchy than it is in a democracy. All assertions about right in the first part could be presupposed in both the section on democracy and in those on the other forms of dominion. One can call this interpretation the connection according to the pattern of “general and particular”. It is doubtless that this interpretation is correct in principle. It can appeal to Spinoza’s own assertion expressing the transition from general discourse to specific question: “Let this be enough

18

In my view, this interpretation can be integrated in the continuing definition of the TP’s aim, which Wolfgang Bartuschat has understood as beginning with the Ethics. Cf. Bartuschat 1994, pp. vii–il, xvii.

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concerning the right of each Commonwealth in general. Now it’s time to discuss the best condition of each state” (5/1). This sentence shows however that there is certainly much more in play than just the transition from the general to particular. One only understands this sentence properly in heeding that Spinoza not only transitions from general to particular but that in Chapter v he carries out a transformation of the question. While in the first part of the treatise the question concerning the emergence, essence, and fundamental principles of right and state stood at the center, the second part is concerned with the question of the best possible state. Spinoza introduces this transformation of the question in detail: For when we say that someone has done something by right, we’re not saying he’s done it in the best way. It’s one thing to cultivate a field by right and another to cultivate it in the best way. It’s also, I say, one thing to defend oneself, preserve oneself, make a judgment, etc., by right and another to defend oneself, preserve oneself, and make a judgment in the best way. So, it’s one thing to command and have responsibility for Public Affairs by right, and another to command and govern Public Affairs in the best way (5/1). This example shows that the second part of the Treatise concerns what is essentially a different subject matter. While the first part argued in the manner of “juridical” philosophy of law, the second part first takes up “political science” in the stricter sense of the word. Recognition of this transformation is of consequence to the understanding of the Political Treatise that is not to be underestimated. The change in questing explains certain tensions observable between the first and second part of the TP. To name only one example of these tensions, in the first part of the TP there are passages which understand monarchs as standing above the laws. For example, in Chapter 4/6, which is difficult to fit into the overall scheme [Gesamtduktus] of the TP,19 Spinoza writes: There’s no doubt that the contract, or the laws by which a multitude transfers its right to a Council or a man, ought to be violated when it’s in the interest of the general welfare to violate them. But no private person is ­entitled to make the judgment about whether it’s in the interest of the 19

In his commentary, Wolfgang Bartuschat emphasized, for example, that in this paragraph there exists “the single place in our treatise […] in which Spinoza speaks of a ‘contract’ (contractus)” (Remarks to 61,1, p. 234).

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g­ eneral welfare to violate them or not. Only the sovereign can rightly do this. By contrast, Spinoza claims in Chapter 6/8 that a monarch preferably should not stand above right: “From all these consideration it follows that a King is less his own Master, and that the condition of his subjects is more wretched, the more absolutely the Right of the Commonwealth is transferred to him”. The contradiction is not alleviated in a simple logical of subsumption of the general in Part 1 and the particular in Part 2. The change of the question from what is fundamental in constituting state and law in Part 1 to reflections on how concrete, really existing monarchies can be optimally configured allows another interpretation to be chosen which can defend Spinoza against rebuke for logical inconstancies on this point. The “juridical” background of philosophy of law developed in the first part is thus indispensible and essential to entirely understanding the content of the second part from a comprehensive theoretic backdrop. However, in order to obtain answers, new differences must be introduced in decisive, concrete questions. Spinoza illustrates this at the end of the fifth chapter’s sixth section: When we attend to the general right of each state, there is no essential difference between one created by a free multitude, and one acquired by the right of war. Still, we’ve shown that each has a very different end. Furthermore, the means by which each state must be preserved are very different (5/6). Bibliography Balibar, Étienne (1998): Spinoza and Politics. Peter Snowdon (transl.). London, New York. Barceló, Pedro (1998): Hannibal. Stratege und Staatsmann. München. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1994): »Einleitung« zu Baruch de Spinoza. Politischer Traktat. Hamburg. Harrington, James (1977): The Political Works of James Harrington. Edited by G.A. ­Pocock. Cambridge. Heerich, Thomas (2005): Transformation des Politikkonzepts von Hobbes zu Spinoza. Das Problem der Souveränität. Würzburg. Hobbes, Thomas (1983): De cive. The Latin Version. Hrsg. von Howard Warrender. Oxford. Hobbes, Thomas (1985): Leviathan. Ed. by C.B. Macpherson. London.

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Machiavelli, Niccolò (1960–65): Opere complete. 8 vol. Ed. by Sergio Bertelli. Milano. Münkler, Herfried (1982): Machiavelli. Die Begründung des politischen Denkens der Neuzeit aus der Krise der Republik Florenz. Frankfurt a. M. Ramond, Charles (2006): Sens et projet du Traité politique. In: Moreau, PierreFrançois/Ramond, Charles (eds.): Lectures de Spinoza. Paris, pp. 173–185. Röd, Wolfgang (1978): Die Philosophie der Neuzeit 1. Von Francis Bacon bis Spinoza. München. Spinoza (1979): Traité politique. P.-F. Moreau (trad.). Index informatique (P.-F. Moreau/ Renée Bouveresse). Paris. Walther, Manfred (2001): Politische und ethische Freiheit oder Spinozas Dialektik der Freiheit. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Vorträge des 6. Internationalen Kongresses der Spinoza Gesellschaft. Zürich, pp. 89–103.

Institutional Design to Stabilize the State i

Theory of the (Constitutional) Monarchy (TP, Chapters 6 and 7) Manfred Walther Concerning Chapters 6 and 7, in which Spinoza deals with optimizing the institutions of the monarchy, the first outlines the institutional system itself after initially stating the criteria for optimization while the second is dedicated to demonstrating the functionality of this system. The following presentation concerns the individual institutions successively. In doing so, it connects the outlined organization to remarks on their function. I

The Foundation of an Institutional-Theoretical Approach to the Optimization of State Function (6/1–3, 7/2)

1. In Chapter 5, Spinoza specifies the “freedom and security of life” as sole function (“end”) of the state.1 The leading question is thus how the system of institutions and their interaction can ensure that “men pass their lives harmoniously” and that an effective order of right exists (5/2). What a political philosophy must accomplish is in no way exhausted in the rational derivation of the “best condition of each state” (5/2): It’s not enough to have shown what ought to be done; it’s necessary especially to show how it can be done in such a way that men may still have valid and firmly established right and laws, whether they’re led by affect or by reason (7/2: emphasis added). The “rights provided by the state, or public liberty” are not gained if they “rest only on the weak support of the laws”, which is to say when they are without force and ineffective (7/2). Because men “are guided more by affect than by reason” (6/1), it is a matter of conceiving of an institutional system that neutralizes citizens’ motivation to act to the effect that everyone acts in conformity to reason, be it sponte, vel vi, vel necessitate coacti, that is, “whether of [one’s] 1 Therefore, the moral advancement of citizens is dismissed as a state goal; the state is relieved of such requirements to advance citizens. This can already be seen in 1/6. See also the contribution of Kirste and Walther in this volume.

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own accord, or by force, or by necessity” (6/3). It is thus not only the subjects’/ citizens’ willingness to comply that is to be ensured, but also the willingness to comply of those governing. This is the case when state institutions rest upon principles, such that the violation or destruction of these principles eliminates the compliance of the citizens who react to such violation by those governing with “indignation” (cf. 4/4) – indeed in the dual sense this word (Empörung) has in German, signifying “indignation” as well as “sedition” – which is to say, by divesting those governing of their power, a power that exists insofar as those governed (including those working in state bodies) comply with the standards and instructions of those governing. The state order then, in order to ensure “peace and harmony”, must reproduce itself through the very assessment of utility and drive structure of both citizens and rulers, which are very differently motivated. Guided by this point of view, Spinoza conceives a procedural order for the formation of the state’s will and legislation as well as the administration and judiciary that results in men recognizing or, at least accepting them dependent upon whether they are rational or affect-led (see above). Spinoza does not outline a state procedural order that one would call utopic, which is to say one that has “a human nature which doesn’t exist” as its basis (1/1). Instead, what he outlines has the actual nature of man as it really is as its basis and is therefore effective (4/4). His central idea is that of a state constitution to which the governing and the governed are equally subject and in which the “power (potentia) of the multitude” – which is the sole source for the exercise of state power (potestas) – accumulates and is institutionally channeled in such a way that events benefit both the governing and the governed. 2. However, how is it to be explained that Spinoza – despite holding democracy as the “most natural state, and the one which approach[es] most nearly the freedom nature concedes to everyone” (ttp 16)2 – undertakes working out an optimal scenario for all three forms of state?3 The reason is that one must, notwithstanding all intended alternatives, take into consideration the mentality of men produced by habit (10/7), i.e. that a change of the institutional structure brings “a great danger of overthrowing the whole state” (7/26). It is a matter of ensuring4 the compatibility [Anschließbarkeit] with the political mentality 2 Cf. the contribution of Keil in this volume. 3 According to 5/2 it is a matter of the “best condition of each state” (cujuscunque [!] imperii). 4 Working out an optimal design for monarchies and aristocracies may also be a reaction to the murder of the brothers Witt, the leaders of the liberal regime of regents, in 1672 and the subsequent return to a quasi-monarchic rule of the Oranges. The reflections of Spinoza sketched here may be a starting point for a conservative Spinoza-reception as it is first to be observed with Burke, as far as I can see, in reaction to the French revolution.

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of a people, which, for its part, is a consequence of the preceding political organization. Otherwise the results could and would likely be counter-productive in relation to the intentions.5 II

Sketch of a Self-Reproductive Institutional System of Monarchies

1. What is immediately inferred from the affect-determination of human action for the best form of monarchy is that, for the commonwealth, “nothing […] is committed absolutely to the good faith of any one person” (6/3). With this the traditional doctrines of the virtuous ruler are altogether dismissed. A  historically informed rejection of this contends that the Ottoman empire was long stable while the states and democracies of peoples are marked by instability and insurrections. Spinoza counters this by stating that only societies of slaves are free of conflict while conflict belongs to societies of the free, whose peaceful management – it is to be deduced – can be accomplished through the adequate (democratic) system of intuitions, which is, spoken in a modern way, metastable (6/4). 2. In the two chapters concerning monarchies, Spinoza outlines the fundamental structures of those political, legal, military, economic, and religious institutions capable of ensuring the state’s stability. Institutions create constraints under which someone can only optimally pursue his own interests when he simultaneously advances the common well-being. In what follows, I present some of the institutions developed by Spinoza for the monarchy, taking into consideration the extent to which, through them, the motivation of actors is, as it were, neutralized or led to be oriented by the common well-being. The following institutions are outlined as central/pivotal: – the monarch (a), – the council assembly as supreme political committee (b), – administration and justice (c), – military (d), – order of property (e), – religious constitution (4). 5 Matheron 1992, pp. 147–158 provides a precise reconstruction of the different reasons according to which, for Spinoza, a democracy – which according to him exists at the beginning of each state formation – is not stable. Concerning what in the Theological-Political Treatise prompts the “old Hebrews” to change their original theocracy – which is, for Spinoza, a democracy without them realizing it – into a monarchy, see Walther 1990, paragraph 3, pp. 156–159.

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Pertaining to the organization of society in general is that citizens – that is, all (male) residents of city and country according to the ius sanguinis together with immigrants holding civil rights – are to be sectioned into clans (6/11). II.1 The Monarch An absolute monarchy, that is, one in which the king “alone can control the supreme right”, and thus has supreme power, is a fiction (6/5) because it shows itself to be a manifold overexertion. The “unimpaired” ruler does not have a character capable of standing up to the lures of power (6/3), nor is he well enough informed that he can make correct decisions. Aside from this, he must delegate power and is dependent in this way upon the informal power of his counselors and appointees who ingratiate themselves with him and make him dependent upon their information and interests. In this way the monarchy is de facto an informal aristocracy (6/5). Finally, a king governing in this way is constantly threatened by the danger of his own citizens. Because of this, his main focus becomes his own security from these dangers, rather than promoting the common well-being of citizens (6/6). A “non-debilitated multitude” [ungeschwächt] would therefore never establish an absolute monarchy (7/5).6 A monarchy that begins as a monarchy of choice (6/13) is established with a precisely regulated, male succession of throne (6/37–38) in order to avoid conflicts of succession. The nurturing and education of the princes is en­trusted to the council assembly (6/20) thereby preventing interested parties from instrumentalizing the princes, for example, by labeling the princes unfit for state administration so that “courtiers” can “manipulate [the princes] by their craft” (6/7). In any case of a monarchy… – the final decision regarding fundamental questions of the commonwealth, above all legislation and decisions over war and peace (cf. 7/17) must lie in the hands of the monarch and to the extent that – these decisions are effectively implemented. In order to ensure this, it is also to be taken care – that the monarch is comprehensively informed about “the situation and condition of the state (imperii statum et conditionem)” (7/3), – that he “look out for the common well-being of all” (7/3), – that the administration and judiciary are monitored in their actions regarding conformity to law (see below, ii.2.c.).

6 A multitude is “debilitated” when it is fractionated by internal power struggles. Cf. Spinoza’s comments on the dictator in 10/1.

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The first-named requirement takes into account that the monarch is only permitted to decide if he is first briefed about the proceedings of the council assembly. The other two functions reside immediately with the council or its standing committee whose composition is decided by the monarch. Belonging to the rights of the king for Spinoza is thus the decision regarding the composition and agenda of the supreme committee, that is, the council assembly, legislation, and the final decision on all general matters of public importance.7 The less constricted the king is in his jurisdiction to legislate for the commonwealth (formally as well as materially; see above, ii.2.a, beginning, 2.2.3c), the more “wretched” the condition of his subjects is and thus the more compromised the king is. Stability would only exist if the system of institutions ensured security for the monarch and peace for the multitude simultaneously. This is when the king’s being “most attentive to the well-being of the multitude” creates at the same time the highest degree of the multitude’s compliance, i.e. when the king is “most his own master” (6/8). When this occurs the right of the state is nothing other than the right of the multitude “as if led by one mind” (3/2).8 II.2 The Council Assembly Because the monarch is principally overexerted with the management of the three above-named tasks, an institution is created, a council assembly better able to deal with these tasks. (a) Composition, recruitment, rules of procedure (6/15–17, 21–25; 7/5): All clans (see above, before ii.2.a) are represented with equal membership in the council assembly. To have sufficient political knowledge and experience, the members must be at least 50 years old and one of them must have a command of juridical expertise. Each clan submits a list of candidates to the monarch from which their members are appointed. The membership periods are short (for example, four or five years). There is a governing principle of rotation such that each year the forth, fifth, etc. section is replaced and no one is permitted to serve two successive terms. The council assembly has a large membership (at least 1,800). There are regular meeting periods and the leader rotates between the clans. In the time between meetings, a standing committee manages all matters of lesser priority. The resolutions (the suggestions to the monarch) require a broad discussion comprising the views brought by all members. If a consensus is not reached, the issue is postponed in order that the ­representatives of 7 As background one can take the catalogue of sovereign rights according to Bodin from which Spinoza’s conception draws sharply. 8 See Hindrichs’ contribution to this volume.

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each clan can discuss them with previous members and candidates not yet in the council assembly so that a majority decision of the council members of this clan can be achieved. When this is not the case, they have no vote. When the council itself cannot come to a unanimous proposal, only those choices having a minimum of votes with their respective reasoning are submitted to the monarch (barring clause). (b) The function of this procedural order is, that – all citizens of corresponding age have “great hope of achieving this dignity [Council selection]” such that the inclination to reduce the number of members, be it by the monarch or by certain members, is met with resistance (7/10); – corruption regarding a large number of members is impossible (7/9); – the monarch cannot hope to compel small minorities by privileging their interests since their votes are not submitted to him (7/5); – because of the system of rotation an elite cannot emerge that could dominate the others, while the mixture of long and short serving members ensures sufficient knowledge and experience (7/10); – no despotic decisions occur, since each council member is conscious that their successors will pay them back (7/13); – a sufficient number of citizens are involved in the council’s decision process and thus integrated in the political process so that there is always a large number of well informed citizens about the most important political matters (7/27) and is unlikely with such a large number of members that some important aspect has been left out of the discussion (7/15). Aside from this, the council or its standing committee reviews whether or not administration and judiciary act according to the law (6/26; see below ii.2.c.). (c) Recapitulation: Because “everyone is most strongly disposed by his affects to seek his personal advantage, judges those laws most equitable which are necessary to preserve and advance his own interest, and defends another person’s cause just to the extent that he believe it makes his own situation more stable” (7/4), the procedural order of the council is tailored such that one may only advance his own interest together with the general interest. This is also valid for the final decision of the monarch. Although he ultimately decides the council’s resolution submissions, he – because “the people’s well-being is the supreme law or the King’s highest right” (7/5) – is held9 (tenetur) not to deviate from a unanimous proposal from the council or when they present him with alternatives, he must choose the one he sees as best or, 9 Cf. Rice 2001.

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better still, to find a compromise – “whether […] led by a fear of the multitude” or “to bind a greater part of the armed” – v. below, 4. – “multitude to himself” – so that it therefore, as Spinoza postulates for an effective order (see above, i.1), does not depend on the moral quality of the monarch. II.3 Administration and Judiciary “Those who frequent the court, and members of the King’s household, to whom he pays a salary from his private funds, are to be excluded from every ministry or office of the Commonwealth” (6/34). The council has to require “an account of the administration of the state by the ministers” (6/24). Because “the fundamental principles of the state must be regarded as the eternal decrees of the thing”, “his ministers obey him completely if they refuse to carry out any commands […] which are inconsistent with the fundamental principles of the state” (7/1). The courts have a large (to prevent bribery and corruption) and unequal (to ensure a majority decision) number of members, who vote in secret (independent of pressures). The compensation of the judges is not set, but rather dependent upon the number of settled cases (expedition) (7/22). Furthermore, their judgments are reviewed by the “great council”, a sort of appellate body to make sure they came about without violating the procedural order (for example, prohibition of torture) and impartially. Otherwise they are to be rescinded (6/26–28). II.4 Military The military is to be organized such that the instrumentalization of soldiers and regular army is just as precluded as the possibility of a coup. It is thus a matter of a citizen army. Each adult citizen performs a basic military service, stores his weapon at home, and receives no pay during peacetime. In addition, the units are to be organized such that military leaders cannot become politically autonomous.10 This creates a dislike of wars in citizens and causes them to fight for their freedom in times of war (7/17). II.5 Order of Property Land and, as possible, also real estate “should be public property” and leased to the citizens. These leases will be used to finance the costs for defense and the household of the king (6/12). The result of this is that citizens do not develop any penchant for war, because in times of war moveable goods are endangered (7/8), citizens are prevented from pursuing their economic interests, their lives 10

As an example of this, compare with the military organization of the modern Swiss.

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are put in jeopardy, and costs are created which they themselves in turn must account for (7/7). In short, wars are costly for citizens. II.6 Religious Constitution The freedom of confession and practice exists. State laws regarding religious opinion are only acceptable when the religious opinions are “seditious”, which is to say, “overturn the foundations of the Commonwealth” – because no one can transfer the right of worship to another (6/40). Churches can be built by private citizens. Only the palace chapel is financed by public means (7/26). The result: “We conclude, then, that a multitude can preserve a full enough freedom under a King, so long as it brings it about that the King’s power is determined only by the power of the multitude, and is preserved by the multitude’s support” (7/31). Inversely, the constitutional order sketched by Spinoza guarantees (1) the sovereignty of the monarch in a double sense, – that the right of final decision regarding matters of public interest always lies with him – and that his decisions are also effective, and (2) the constitutional order likewise looks after his security (see above, ii.2.a.). The rights acknowledged in this order are therefore so “firmly” established that not even the king could repeal them, as this would give rise to the indignation of the majority of armed citizens. Nothing depends “on the inconstant will of one man” any longer, because “everything is done, indeed, only according to the King’s decree, i.e., that all law is the King’s will, as it has been made known, but that not everything the King wills is law” (7/1). This is perhaps the shortest and most precise formula for what one would later call a constitutional monarchy. The institutional design entails that both the one governing and the ones governed act “as if” their action was determined by reason, that is, they act in conformity with reason. However, this is not reached through an appeal to reason and morality, that is, to an ever-scarce resource whose presence cannot grant the state stability. It is reached rather, as Spinoza posits (see above, i.2), by balancing the passions of both the sovereign and the subjects. The institutional arrangements that “grant great security to the King in his rule, and to the citizens in maintaining freedom and peace” (7/15) can be summarized as a democratization of the most important institutions while preserving the King’s right to final decision. They likewise secure a large concentration of information as the foundation of corresponding decisions. In this way the

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king’s decisions find broad acceptance while also motivating the (armed) majority to resist the curtailment of their right to participation when necessary. III

Concluding Remarks

Generally put, the stability of the state order is increased when state institutions protected by the respective form of state ensures maximum feedback between the standards of the holder of state authority and the reaction of the citizens. According to Spinoza, this power circulation is never to be brought to a stop,11 in order that its at least partial institutional channeling increases the effectivity of political institutions in the sense of the state functions listed in paragraph 1.12 As Spinoza emphasizes (see above, i.1), the freedom of citizens can of course never be fully guaranteed by the legal order. In the last instance it depends upon the true readiness of the multitude to fight for this freedom. The state’s legal order can never alone protect itself. In the end, it is protected only by ius belli (4/6). Spinoza puts forth a conception of power balance – indeed some 50 years before Montesquieu – which one can rightly call something like the first version of an economy of political institutions whose guiding function is civil freedom, peace, and security.13 Bibliography Buchanan, James/Tullock, Gordon (1962): The Calculus of Consent. Logical Foundations of a Constitutional Democracy. Ann Arbor. Heerich, Thomas (2000): Transformation des Politikkonzepts von Hobbes zu Spinoza. Das Problem der Souveränität. Würzburg. Matheron, Alexandre (1992): Passions et institutions. In: Lazzeri, Christian (ed.): La raison d’État. Politique et rationalité. Paris, pp. 141–170. 11 12

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Cf. Heerich 2000. For Spinoza, this insight is reason for democracy. In comparison to the other two forms of governance, this institutional feedback is most robust with democracy, which is also capable of developing the highest amount of common power in the interest of securing peace and freedom. Cf. Keil’s contribution to this volume. It is therefore plausible that, in the chapter addressing his forerunners in the history of political philosophy/science, James Buchanan is concerned only with judging the realistic theories and not the idealist ones, “of [which] only Spinoza’s works seem to have much in common with our own, and only his seem deserving of comment”. His commentary on this realistic theory follows shortly thereafter (Buchanan/Tullock 1962, p. 312ff).

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Rice, Lee C. (2001): Spinoza’s Notion of »tenere« in His Moral and Political Thought. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 139–156. Walther, Manfred (1990): Institution, Imagination und Freiheit. Eine kritische Theorie politischer Institutionen. In: Göhler, Gerhard et al. (eds.): Politische Institutionen im gesellschaftlichen Umbruch. Ideengeschichtliche Beiträge zur Theorie politischer Institutionen. Opladen, pp. 246–275.

Theory of the Aristocracy (TP, Chapters 8–10) Wolfgang Bartuschat I

Aristocracy between Monarchy and Democracy

The segment concerning aristocracy is by far the longest in the Political Treatise. It comprises Chapters 8–10. Spinoza initially describes the principles of two forms of aristocracy – the aristocracy with one central city (Ch. 8) and the aristocracy with several equal cities (Ch. 9). He then examines what threats the aristocratic state remains exposed to (Ch. 10). The description of the aristocracy stands in the middle of the description of two other forms of governance, the monarchy and the democracy, the latter of which is only a fragment (Ch. 11). Viewed structurally, there is an improvement in state form from monarchy through aristocracy to democracy.1 In the Theological-Political Treatise (ttp), Spinoza described democracy as preferable in the discussion of the state’s foundations (Ch. 16). As he writes there, democracy is the “most natural (maxime naturale)” form of governance because it comes closest to what nature concedes to each (unicuique), which is to say his freedom (ttp 10/11). In the ttp, Spinoza’s considers that if freedom is assigned to everyone, then the state – with its laws to which everyone is bound – must be based in its legislation on the citizens who have to submit themselves to it. Only when the state’s legislation is viewed as the will of all does it live up to the freedom of individuals, whereby it also prevents a revolt of the subjects against the state. It is with democracy that the opposition between governing and governed would first be suspended, where the people possess the highest authority to govern and not, as in monarchy or aristocracy, the king or the upper nobles. Put otherwise, where everyone (omnes) and not only one (unus) or a few (pauci) have authority in their hands. Spinoza’s general consideration is that the most supreme authority of governance (summa potestas) is only supreme when it is at once supreme power (summa potentia). Only as such is it able not to simply issue this or that law, but to issue laws with real, binding force. If, as Spinoza repeatedly emphasizes, the supreme power is now nothing other than the common power of individuals, then the authority manifesting in legislation is obviously to be determined such that all individuals participate in it. In this way it really proves itself to be the supreme power. On this premise democracy would be the optimal form of 1 Cf. Matheron 1985, pp. 259–273.

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governance, not because it is desirable but because democracy alone is sufficiently effective. Democracy will issue laws that cannot be rebelled against and in this respect secure the stability of the state. Laws are adhered to because those who follow the laws are also those who issue them. In line with this, Spinoza defines supreme power as the power of the multitude (multitudinis potentia, 2/17). He calls a democracy the state whose legislation is incumbent upon an assembly of people (concilium) composed of this very multitude. He defines multitude as a unified entity making decisions from a point of commonality (ex communi multitudine). It is an all-encompassing unity in contrast to the “few” ruling an aristocracy and the “one” ruling a monarchy. Admittedly the conditions under which one can speak of a truly unified multitude would have to be shown.2 When Spinoza introduces the concept of the multitudo in the TP, he obviously assumes that a unity belongs to it without discussing in detail how such a unity is possible given the different interests and affect-determined inclinations of the many. He nonetheless makes clear that this unity is endangered once common interests are presupposed. This is exemplified by a decline observable in historical development– in contrast to the conceptual appreciation of the three of forms of government – when a democracy transforms into an aristocracy and finally into a monarchy (8/12). A state arises from the human multitude’s search for an abode built and cultivated by the people and made their own through their labor and the price of their blood. This is seen as their state, to which they are collectively bound. However, relations of familiarity are complicated by foreign immigration and increasing hardship of citizens, both criminal and economic. Citizens are then no longer in a position to attend to state matters and relinquish them to those eager to take care of them. These people, in turn, become divided by internal conflicts until ruling authority is left to one who, in the face of hopeless quarrel, appears as a strong and welcome savior. Spinoza concludes from this in the TP that one does not finish by conceiving of an ideal blueprint for the state in the sense he had for large portions of the ttp. The task is rather to show how a state must be conceived in order that it is capable of halting such tendencies towards decline. To do this, the concept must be sufficiently concerned with the causes of decline under which a state is established and to which it remains bound. The nature of man may always be the same, but these causes arise from historically contingent conditions. Faced with this bond, it is a matter of showing which form of organization allows 2 It would be a unity of individuals, while aristocracy favors the unity of a group. Cf. Terpstra 1993, pp. 79–105.

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a state to be internally stable, whether it be a monarchy, an aristocracy, or a democracy. It is a matter of showing how it can preserve itself against a change of form with the means proper to it, whether it is led by one, a few, or all. The leading question is thus: How must the authority making political decisions be composed such that the sovereignty entrusted to conduct government affairs can be maintained. In contrast to the historical evolution shown factually in the transformation of forms of governance, Spinoza propagates, against all progressive optimism, a form of state that does not allow such transformations to arise, even those leading from monarchy to aristocracy and perhaps then to democracy. Thus, from Chapter 6 onwards, the TP provides a typology of three forms of governance. All of these are determined by the idea of the best form of state that Spinoza deals with in Chapter 5, without reserving this form for any one form of governance. The best form results from the end of the state (ex fine status civilis) which is to say the reason that men establish a state: why it grants them what they naturally seek, namely the peace and security of life (pax vitaeque securitas). If the state cannot afford men this goal, it becomes a formation hardly distinguishable from the private conflicts found in the state of nature, which is to say that it is not at all a state. If it is the affects which separate men and result in conflict (Spinoza begins the TP by referring to this), then the internal strife among men is not to be blamed on the corrupt character (malitiae) of the subjects. As Spinoza emphasizes (5/2), it is to be blamed first and foremost on a corrupt form of government (pravo imperii statui). A state is corrupt when it has not taken enough precautions concerning the harmony of men (non satis concordiae providerit). Spinoza equates this with not issuing its laws with sufficient prudence (non satis prudenter). If one adheres to this, there is a (certain) wisdom reflected in the laws of right, a form of strategy optimizing a state, a knowledge of what moves men and what they require. Laws of right that neglect this are feckless statutes prescribing something without being able to regulate human coexistence. For Spinoza, ineffective laws of right are not only feckless, but the expression of a commonwealth that has not attained unconditional right (ius absolutum) (5/2). Its legislation is grounded only in limited power because it is confronted with the power of those whose demands have not been sufficiently considered by the laws. It is precisely this that contains the seed of rebellion against the state. For Spinoza the central task of the state’s self preservation is to not allow this seed to germinate. Strategic considerations of this sort show that the common power upon which a state can only optimally base itself does not necessarily manifest itself in laws of right in which, in principle, everyone can participate through consultation and balloting. This common power manifests also in laws that

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sufficiently care for the concerns of everyone. One could immediately derive a precedence of aristocracy from this, perhaps a reason for the fact that Spinoza treats it in detail. One alone is evidently not in the position to know these concerns and all together, the people (plebs), is not experienced and prudent enough to make correct decisions A few chosen persons, when qualified, are clearly best capable of this, i.e. those who hold responsibility in an aristocracy. In this case it is not general participation in the process of legislation but the prudent strategies of a select few in this process that stabilizes the state, i.e. protects it against internal uprising. If the unconditional right of legislation is grounded in the common power of individuals, an aristocracy is admittedly not befitting of such right in its entire scope. The form of governance would only be “completely absolute (omnino absolutum)” in democracy (11/1), because in a democracy, otherwise than in an aristocracy, it is not only a select few that have a rightful claim to participate in the legislative process and hold state office. However, Spinoza wishes to show that various forms of governance have a well-founded chance to secure the stability of the state despite not fulfilling absoluteness understood in this way. It is true that this chance varies in accordance with the extent of this non-­fulfillment. Spinoza pursues both perspectives in his analyses. He describes the respective form of governance in the possible strength immanent to it and at the same time judges its efficacy on the basis of its proximity to the absolute form.3 Spinoza begins his exposition in Chapter 8 with a reference to the points of distinction of an aristocracy in relation to the other two forms of state, the monarchy and the democracy. In the case that it at all function practically, the monarchy is in substance an aristocracy, only in a veiled manner and therefore the absolute worst sort of aristocracy (6/5). Because the monarch relies on advisors entrusted with the wellness of the citizens, including his own, he does not truly embody the highest power, such that granting him unconditional authority to decide would be foolish. The various advisory bodies do not hold unconditional power either as long as they are appointed by a king who believes himself to be the supreme power. These bodies are appointed on the basis of the king’s personal advantage. Moreover, the danger of discontinuity is tied to the nature of the mortal ruler, namely that with the death or even abdication of the ruler the multitude would provisionally hold full sovereignty. Spinoza sees the seed of the state’s instability in such a situation (7/25). Both of these weaknesses are eliminated in an aristocracy. Supreme power lies expressly in the hands of an assembly (concilum) as sole decider. This assembly does not require advisors (consiliarii). Its governing authority endures through 3 Cf. Bartuschat 2010, p. xxxvff.

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the principle of its members’ self-completion, and it never reverts to the multitude (8/3). The difference with democracy – by which the governing authority also never reverts to the people who already have it in their own hands – does not in the first place stem from the fact that in an aristocracy a few rule rather than all. It consists in that those ruling in an aristocracy are explicitly elected (electi). Their warrant is dependent solely on an election (a sola electione) and not naturally from birth or some other favorable destiny, for example, to be born in the fatherland or naturalized at some later point (8/1; 11/1). Even when the rulers (of an aristocracy) are chosen from the multitude (ex multitudine selecti), they are nevertheless not elected by the multitude, but rather selected from the multitude by an isolated circle of nobility who alone determine who will be elected to the state’s assembly and hold the responsibility of governing. The competence of the candidates certainly plays a role here. For Spinoza, however, it is more important to consider the number of patricians both in general and in the different committees with political responsibility. Spinoza determines the particular size with almost mathematical pedantry. This is not a matter of what is somehow desirable, but must be designated by law. The law setting the ratio for the number of patricians to multitude would be the most important law (primaria lex) of the aristocratic state (8/13). The size of the paternal circle must be relative to the size of the state’s population and must increase relative to an increase in the population. There is therefore a minimum size that it cannot fall short of (8/1). There doubtless stands behind this the notion of representation of the people by the patricians, at least in the sense that the circle of patricians is not a fixed clique but open to more members. These potential members thus obtain a chance that arouses their ambition to qualify for acceptance into the circle of the elite. The principle of a sufficiently large number is also valid for the particular committees in order that individuals’ ambition and thirst for power does not lead to one seeking to dominate the others. This is meant not only to prevent one from aspiring to a monarchy, but also to prevent parties from forming which would jockey against one another for power. A sufficiently large number prevents tendencies towards autocracy and promotes partnership, making one dependent upon many. This has the consequence of leading the natural tendencies of each individual, anxious for his own advantages, on a course where the individual only attains his greatest benefits when he cooperates with others with a common interest in mind. The commitment of individuals to partnership is further promoted by a term limitation which should prevent both the overconfidence and self-sufficiency of office holders. This should also occur through the exclusion of every form of nepotism in the succession of office, not allowing descent

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and family to play a role (8/37) and granting everyone in the circle of patricians an equally great prospect (spes aeque magna) regarding assignable posts (8/30). Thus, concerning equal chance, the filling of each position is reserved to a choice of the best, or at least those believed to be the best. While Spinoza unmistakably highlights the strength of aristocracies against monarchies, he does not consider their possible weaknesses against democracies. On the contrary, he is keen to make positive the fact that an aristocracy only approaches unconditional governing authority without embodying it in its pure form because of its exclusion of the multitude from the responsibility of governing. In a sufficiently large and autonomously deciding assembly independent of the multitude’s supervision, the multitude would be only taken into account to the extent that it instills fear in the rulers (formidolosa est). This fear is a fear of revolt grounded in “some freedom” (aliqua libertas) which the multitude tacitly (tacite) claims as soon as it is suppressed or feels itself so (8/4). In order to have nothing to fear, the government would have to respect this freedom without having to grant individuals a rightful claim to it. The rulers must take it seriously as something clearly lying in the nature of man and which therefore cannot be taken from him. Spinoza doubtless points here to the striving for self-preservation (conatus perseverandi) of every individual which is bound to a form of self-preferentiality favored4 by a life according to its own estimations and therefore irreconcilable with patronage. Because taking this freedom into account is in the interest of the rulers, they will defend and preserve it not as a right due to each individual, but as their own right (“ius […] ut suum”) (8/5). In this respect, the freedom of each serves the maintenance of power for a few who seek to suppress the fear of those excluded from legislation in the laws they issue. For Spinoza this could only be successful because in the legislative process of a sufficiently large assembly reason is brought to bear, rather than erratic arbitrariness. Spinoza is clearly confident that such an assembly is capable of making decisions whereby affects – which also determine patricians – do not remain in a conflict of only private interests which occurs always at the cost of others and does not respect their freedom to develop their own chances. Spinoza explains that their decisions would aspire to something “honorable” (honesta) (8/6). According the way Spinoza has defined “honorable” in the Ethics (E4 P37S1) – this would be to aspire to something which is praised and endorsed by men who live according to the guidance of reason. Honorable is communication between men which entails reciprocal respect. What Spinoza names friendship will later be called fraternity. Admittedly this does not mean 4 In marked contrast to Hobbes. Cf. Lazzeri 1998.

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that the patricians must themselves be guided by reason in the field of political decisions. Spinoza merely assumes that what he would gladly take for the ­multitude – to be a unity in which men are led as if by one mind (una veluti mente ducuntur, 2/16) – could be attributed to a decision making body composed only of aristocrats. It would be led as if by one mind (una veluti mente duci, 8/6) when the patricians are allied with one another in such a way that their assembly forms a whole rather than a “disorderly multitude” (8/19). On this premise the decision process can take on a form that is at least conformable to reason. We would then have rational decisions without them being grounded in the reason of those deciding, something which Spinoza had explicitly demanded for the state’s stability in Chapter 1 of his Treatise (1/6). From the perspective of merely being-rational, it is sufficient if, in respect to the simple people, such things are aspired which simply have the semblance of being honorable (speciem honesti habent, 8/6) without in fact being so, because it only corresponds to what a great many deem to be honorable. Politicians are therefore not required to be wise. They must only be knowledgeable of what actually moves men, i.e., what guides their opinions. Herein lies, however, a danger for the stability of the state. Spinoza may underestimate this when, in speaking of the aristocratic state, he speaks of a form of paternalism in which the few care for the many. Because the many cannot do it themselves, they are viewed as children whose responsibility to decide for themselves has been taken from them. Paternalism is also of concern because it is based in the gap between the above and the below, even if one cannot call it slavery. This gap becomes clear from a political perspective, as Spinoza does not hesitate to attribute the status of “foreigner” (peregrine) to the plebeians for the reason that they are excluded from counsel and ballot. Among the consequences Spinoza derives from this is that the military is to be handled like foreign mercenaries, which is to say, they are to be paid for their service (8/9). He further emphasizes this foreignness with the demand that immovable property not be leased to the people. Instead, this is to be sold because, without being bound to property, the people would largely abandon the state (which obviously is not their state) in times of adversity (8/10). From this perspective the acquisition of property is not understood as expressing the free seizure of something. Rather, it appears to result from the strategic considerations of the rulers who rightly suspect subjects excluded from the decision-making process to be unreliable. The gap between the rulers and the ruled, as gap between patricians and plebeians, would not be as severe as in a monarchy. This is because the decision-making authority is not a vague mixture of monarch and advisors, but a well-organized entity in which the forces taking part mutually support and

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control one another. Spinoza sees in this the guarantee for decisions minimizing the pursuit of private interests and promoting the equal care of all men concerning public matters. The following will sketch the perspective guiding Spinoza’s description of the constitution of the political assembly sustaining the aristocratic state. II

The Aristocracy with One City

Spinoza initially elucidates the aristocracy of a single city. Here the most important assembly (8/11–20) is the supreme council of patricians (supremum concilium). Their task is to issue and, where required, repeal laws, to elect members of the assembly in the form of a self-completion, and to appoint all state officials, regardless of the importance of their function (8/7). In order to optimally fulfill their task, they must meet five conditions: 1. The number of members must be proportional to the size of the state; 2. all members must have equal rights concerning decisions; 3. decisions require discussion, but via expedited transactions without delaying tactics; 4. the interest guiding their decisions must include care for the common well-being; 5. the power of the patricians must be greater than the power of the multitude without causing harm to the multitude (8/11). These conditions are interwoven with one another. The greater power of the patricians (point 5) is the precondition for the autonomy of the assembly’s decisions. It can only be maintained if decisions take the well-being of all into account, including those who have nothing to decide (point 4). If such decisions are not to be arbitrary, blank decisions, all members of the assembly must be viewed as equally entitled partners of a discussion committed to the argument (point 2). This discussion must not degenerate into a useless palaver (point 3). Proportional size, the most important point for Spinoza (8/13), should ensure that the assembly does not degenerate into representing the interests of a certain few. For Spinoza, the point of having the highest possible number is not only the most important, but also the most difficult to fulfill. With men, even patricians, the penchant to follow private interests and mind one’s own well-being is simply greater than the willingness to engage in public affairs. Motivation to become a member of the supreme council as well as of the other assemblies is therefore required. And it must be strong enough to suppress inclinations that are solely ­private. Spinoza wishes to understand the oath as being concerned with the health of the own country (salus patriae) and the common well-­being of everyone (commune onmium bonum) rather than private good (bonum privatum) (8/48). By accurate estimation of affective life, however, this would not be a strong enough motive to draw the patricians into public engagement.

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In addition to this there must be coercive measures (obligation to register on the candidate list, prohibiting refusal to vote, fines for unfounded absence to meetings), conditions making public service economically appealing, and finally, even if unimportant, measures promoting flattery (reputation with the people to the point of receiving a peculiar costume and special greeting title). At the same time, differently weighted rotation regulations for posts in the diverse assemblies are intended not only to quell arrogance in public officials, but also to prevent falling asleep on the job. These are measures conceived by the rational philosopher who knows well that patricians, as they are according to their own self-­understanding, be it in the erstwhile Italian city-states or today in the country of the Dutchmen, are not willing to follow these prescriptions of their own impetus.5 The discrepancy between blueprint and reality explains the many regulations, some of which go into detail, formulating what is required for orderly functioning and which ­Spinoza, usually an opponent of the normative, cites repeatedly. However, he does not intend them simply as feeble pleas. They refer directly to the affects of the rulers whose force must be taken into account if they are to be directed in ways that make a fruitful cooperation of participants possible. Because the imperiousness driving individuals’ desire to be first rather than simply occupying a higher position in the collective is a difficult affect to tame, this requires that the action of the highest assembly’s members be checked by another committee, the syndics (8/20–28). The syndics are chosen from the supreme council. They are indeed subordinate (subordinatur). Yet they must be independent from the supreme council if they are to be truly capable of supervision (distinct armament, 8/23; fixed salary for its members, who are entitled to the fines payable by guilty patricians and officials, 8/25). The syndics have to watch over and care for the observance of the state’s laws of right, to assure that violations (also those of the supreme council’s members and the patricians more generally) are brought before the courts (8/20). Further, they have to supervise the efficiency of the supreme council’s workings: that they are convened and have a proper agenda (8/26), but also that they hold to the quick course of business demanded of them (8/27). The senate is another assembly (8/29–36). The senate is responsible for carrying out state affairs and has wide-reaching authority as an executive body. It is responsible for the fortification of cities which includes (though it is not explicitly mentioned by Spinoza) the building of streets, canals, and social infrastructure, whereby it determines the use of taxes imposed on the

5 On this tension see Bartuschat 1993, pp. 59–78. For more recent commentary, see also Hindrichs 2006, p. 39f.

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s­ ubjects  (8/29). For smaller tasks it appoints a sort of managerial assembly made up of consuls (8/35). The senators have concrete decision-making authority in their function to implement laws. This not only brings them power, but also great esteem with the people, making the posts they occupy desirable. Expertise and, in particular, experience are required for their appointment. Young overachievers are therefore not entrusted to senate posts (8/30). As in other assemblies, the corruption of individuals is encumbered by a large number of senators. Salary level must be relative to the prosperity of the people so that senators see personal gains when seeing to the economic welfare of commoners. Spinoza believes that it is precisely for this reason that senators will seek to avoid costly wars and to not place burdensome taxes on the subjects for personal enrichment. These will be used only for the securing of peace, in which everyone has stake and for which they willingly accept burdens (8/31). The courts are another assembly (8/37–43). Members of the courts, i.e., judges, are selected from the circle of patricians by the supreme council like all other functionaries. They nevertheless remain particularly independent, as required by the principle of jurisprudence. Judgments are only valid when they are issued impartially (absque partium studio; 8/40), i.e., offenses make no distinction between patricians and common people (8/38). But the mere fact being a judge, as has been everywhere evident, does not guarantee impartiality. A large number of judges is required to prevent them from being “corrupted by any private man” (8/38). The courts also require control by an assembly of syndics (8/40), which attains a particular meaning in the field of jurisprudence through its proximity to the people. Out of respect for the syndics, judges will be vigilant against passing unjust or contradictory judgments. Not only this, but the syndics will themselves allow the people a claim to equal treatment because all are equal before the law and the syndics must supervise compliance with this equality. In this respect the syndics ignore the elitist claim of many patricians to special treatment, attracting their contempt while becoming very popular with the people. This is the case to such an extent that the syndics even seek to earn to the applause (applausum) of the people (8/41). Moreover, the large number of syndics and the principle of partnership associated with it should ward off the danger of any one syndicate becoming a tribune who, when demagogically adept, could soon have the entire republic in his hands. As authorities monitoring jurisprudence, the syndics have a close relation to the multitude that is lacking in other assemblies. If they are essentially there to monitor adherence to the internal regulations serving to satisfy the efficacy of these assemblies, they are then watching over the observation of a right befitting everyone. This right cannot be claimed by an individual in a private way that is without a public court and thus in the state of nature.

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The final assembly is a circle of secretaries (8/44–45), i.e., administrative clerks. They do not have suffrage or decision-making permissions and therefore can be selected from the plebeians. On the other hand, due to their continuous activity, they have substantial knowledge and experience at their disposal. By Spinoza’s view, this often leads to one putting more trust in them than they deserve. For him, here as a partisan of the aristocracy, this is a sign that the patricians have too little confidence in themselves and their own prudence. Yet it could very well be that the secretaries are in a better position to carry out state business. The decades-long Grand Pensionary, Jan de Witt, would be a good example of this. Political competence, like every sort of competence, can hardly be bound to class boundaries. On the whole Spinoza relies on a principle of quantity6 which understands quality as the largest possible network of reciprocal relations among those ruling which balances individual drives. This suggests a homogeneity independent of the quality of attitude or mindset from which action is taken. Spinoza deems this a private matter which would be valid for ethics but politically impractical. The network of rulers is a closed circle in relation to the multitude (multitudo) understood as the common people or plebeians (plebs). It must change in size relative to the size of the population, but remains self-contained and closed. A feature of its members is to have been elected by this circle. With this the autonomous power of nobility is expressed though it is not necessarily recognition of the selectee’s competence. Spinoza suspects that when it is only many patricians, enough competence will be found among them. He estimates about one of every 50 (8/2). However, he does not name any reasons as to why simple patricians should elect prudent men. It is more likely assumable that they would elect people like themselves, a suspicion that is not foreign to Spinoza.7 It looks as if competence can even be dangerous. Not a single individual in the assembly should stand out by some special distinction. A more likely feature of the patrician is being rich and that they wish to remain rich or become richer. Spinoza, deeming this obvious, only mentions it in passing (semper ex ditioribus eliguntur, 8/31). It is precisely here in their economic activity that they are linked to others beyond private interests. This not only includes other patricians, but also the people who ultimately have needs that must be met.8 The interlacing of individuals taking hold here stabilizes an aristocracy’s political assemblies. On the basis of a common interest in prosperity, their members must additionally guarantee that their views do not 6 For illuminating commentary on this, see Ramond 2005. 7 For more, see Section iv. 8 Cf. Bartuschat 1996, pp. 63–76.

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diverge to the extent that they would form actual fractions. There is no opposition in the supreme council. The oversight of this assembly is done by other assemblies of patricians which themselves are not fractional. In contrast, the plebeians are much more susceptible in Spinoza’s eyes to demagogical slogans or behaviors which, when they appear today in a more modest guise are called populist. When these behaviors and slogans are communicated skillfully, they can grant one a political mission from the people easily opening the path to autocracy. Spinoza sees a properly understood aristocracy as a remedy against the real danger of such a scenario. The institution having particular influence on the people, the publically operative religion, is to be brought under the control of the patricians. It holds the status of a state religion (religio patriae) and the patricians rule the churches of this state religion insofar as it is they who have to celebrate the most important religious activities. Beyond supervising the church’s influence on the people, the patricians’ attachment to the state church prevents it from getting lost in an opposition of sectarian ­superstition (8/46). Having said this, Spinoza was cautious against allowing patricians to head universities. He saw no danger for the state order in the freedom of science, to which he was committed throughout his life. He held science in particular as a private affair, pursued by the individual “at the risk of his own resources and reputation” (8/49). What Spinoza had fought for vehemently in his Theological-Political Treatise remains intact in accordance with what he here asserts against a religious sectarianism underlying political dominion: that subjects cannot be deprived of their freedom of opinion (8/46). For subjects it is only the freedom to express their opinions which remains ineffective for political decisions.9 For the patricians, on the other hand, it is the most important means for making decisions useful for all, even if restricted to singular measures that leave the general political framework untouched. Precisely because, with respect to common welfare, decisions are also always determined and remain determined by the personal views of the patricians, a candid discussion is required in the particular assemblies, on behalf of which all patricians must be equal, i.e., committed solely to the argument, which knows no privileges. The rule stating that the vote following a discussion must be secret (8/27) should ensure that the patricians decide for what convinces them, free from hostility, even if this is not supported by an argument. In the conclusion to the chapter dedicated to an aristocracy of several cities, Spinoza writes:

9 On the tension here between freedom of judgment and freedom of action see Balibar 1985.

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But by asking advice, listening, and arguing, they’re [human wits] sharpened. When people try all means, in the end they find ways to the things they want which everyone approves, and no one had ever thought of before (9/14). One hears here the optimistic tone of a discourse ethics which is open-ended and which, in certain instances, does not always wish to confirm what is already well-tested. Of course, it is a discourse not open to everyone, but only to a few, precisely those who are not permitted to discuss what grounds the dominion of a few. The patrician who brings any of the aristocratic state’s fundamental laws of right in question (quaestionem de iure aliquot fundamentali moverit, 8/25), even if only verbally, is a treasonous criminal, to be sentenced to death and publically shamed as a disgrace. The aristocrat that attempts this would abolish the aristocracy, i.e., actually commit suicide, something which only those who want to remain political aristocrats relieve him from. And Spinoza agrees with them, not because he has a fondness of aristocrats but because he sees that a state is only granted stability in not changing its form of governance. This is why Spinoza precisely describes how the aristocratic state must be established in order that it persevere and places the question of the form of governance for the optimal form of state in the background. In the aristocratic state itself, existing tendencies toward autocracy as well as democracy are dangers to be kept at bay. The aristocratic state as such, i.e. in the factuality of its givenness, is to be made as strong as possible to the effect that its form is not permitted to be pervious to other forms of governance. III

The Aristocracy with Several Cities

In the markedly short 9th chapter, Spinoza is concerned with the foundations of an aristocracy with several states. He is oriented in this by the provinces of Holland with their 18 equal cities, not the Federation of the United Netherlands, but rather the individual provinces in it. Within Holland these provinces were self-reliant according to a far-reaching autonomy. Spinoza wishes to show that this form of aristocratic state has an advantage (9/1) over one concentrated on a single city, which for him are represented historically by the Italian city-republics. Two are capable of more than one and more are capable of even more. This principle of Spinoza (2/13) is also valid here. In paragraphs 3–13 he states the differences between the two forms of aristocratic government. The essential difference consists in the leading political

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body. For the total state formed of various cities this is not the supreme council, which remains limited to individual cities, but a so-called greater senate (9/4–8). Its seat is not in a capital city and therefore does not favor an individual city. In it each individual city has its own influence, although in differing scale relative to the size of their population. The model taking hold here is analogous to the fundamental determination of assemblies in an aristocracy oriented by a central city. If in the assembly of individual patricians the ­president – a leader necessary to organizational procedure – is not permitted any exceptional position, then here no one city is permitted to dominate as capital. Spinoza sees greater efficacy in the collaboration of several cities than in the collaboration of several individuals. Indeed, what is true of the individual is true of the city. It has as much right as it had power. However, the power of a city has a different weight than that of an individual whose power is negligible (nullius) in relation to the entire state (9/4). Cities can provide for themselves and defend themselves through fortification. The better they can do this the more power they have and, because of this, they are necessarily different from individuals (9/4). Spinoza derives from this an unequal claim to participation in the governing of the total state. The consequence of this is that each city will strive to increase its power as much as possible. Municipalities not in the position to do so, because they are too small or not economically significant enough and thus largely powerless, are not at all their own masters and are to be assigned to the administration of a self-sufficient city (9/13). According to this concept cities must be powerful enough that they cannot be bypassed by a central city without this central city doing harm to itself. At the same time they must not be so powerful that they could exist without the other cities of the province. This is the fundamental idea of an aristocracy with several cities. Spinoza simply states this without going into further detail. It is clear, however, that the decision-making authority of an individual city is not left solely to a supreme council responsible only for them. This authority is assigned to a superordinate great senate responsible for matters which exceed the communal (9/5). Spinoza does not say what these matters are. He simply mentions the mediation of disputes that can arise between cities (oriri possunt). One can easily suspect that they not only arise, but constantly arise, because the fundamental principle of each city to increase its own power necessarily leads to doing this at the cost of the others. For this reason the great senate is to be understood as a mediating entity that must concern itself with the interests of all cities and prevent a city’s pursuit of power from leading to its rise as domineering capital. If the senate is composed in relation to the size of cities (Amsterdam and Edam do not have the same number of seats), then the larger cities will also have a large influence. It is thus difficult to see how the

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senate, as an instance of balance, can be equally concerned with the interests of all cities and not simply the powerful cities. In any case, Spinoza sees the true strength of an aristocracy with several cities in the incentive it offers cities to expand in size. In order to have more power, the patricians will strive towards increasing the population of their city, whereby they must offer something to interested parties and not frighten (metu) them away (9/14). Above all good deeds (beneficiis), likely those of an economic sort, are surely an incentive luring people to move. Goodwill is thus practiced in order to increase power. Here Spinoza is entirely in agreement with his general thesis (E4 Def8) that virtue (virtus) is equal to power (potentia), but is meaningless as a morality separate from power. For Spinoza, what it means for residents to have nothing to fear is that they must not fear being suppressed. More positively termed, this means that freedom – which in the Theological-Political Treatise is the general end (finis) of the state – is granted to as many citizens as possible through competition between cities: in hoc imperio libertas pluribus communis (9/14). This is a respectable goal which supports itself on competition without one city taking away from another because in the freedom to express one’s thoughts, one does not harm another. Spinoza ends the chapter concerning the optimal form of the aristocratic state by considering freedom as a good for all, that old theme of the ttp. This is doubtless done with the belief that a freedom understood as a freedom of expression would be a strong incentive for men to visit places which grant this. IV

Justification of the Aristocracy

After presenting the foundations of the monarchic state in the 6th chapter of the Treatise, Spinoza endeavored in the 7th chapter to demonstrate them in proper order (ordine demonstrare, 7/1). This was meant to justify the development of these foundations in their function, i.e. ensuring the stability of the monarchic state as best as possible. However, the same does not follow his presentation of the foundations of the two forms of aristocratic states. In Spinoza’s eyes the presentation justifies itself. Fully convinced, he proclaims: “[…] we can maintain that if any state is everlasting (aeterna), this one must be everlasting, or that it can’t be destroyed by any inherent defect […]” (10/9). In this context aeternus has nothing to do with the timelessness of divine eternity in terms of which, according to the Ethics, to recognize things prepares the highest happiness for the sage. It means the form of state’s constant self-sustenance in time as defined by its laws of right, i.e. the highest conceivable form of stability. The internal cause of collapse of the aristocratic form would be a self-inflicted

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cause, a culpabilis causa. This would be the case if the laws were constituted in such a way that not only this or that subject or even citizen (patrician) would not adhere to the laws of right every now and then. Rather, the cause of collapse would only present itself if the laws are constituted in such a way that they are fundamentally rebelled against because they do not satisfy what men naturally strive after. Laws of right must not only be anchored in the prescriptions of reason, which in themselves are impotent (invalidae). They must be anchored at the same time in the affectivity common to men (communi hominum affecu). This principle to which Spinoza lays claim for every state, though particularly with the aristocratic, would, he thinks, prevent such revolt. If it now belongs to human affects that each will conduct his life according to his own disposition, from whatever it may nourish itself, be it from reason or pure irrationality, then also belonging to them is certainly the tendency to revolt against laws of right restricting one from following one’s own disposition or to simply ignore them and consider only one’s own benefit. Formulated generally, this is the tendency to place public interests behind private interests which slips in over time. This had been stated by Machiavelli, whom Spinoza held in high esteem. However, with good reason Spinoza rejects the suggestion of Machiavelli to appoint a temporary dictatorial autocrat from time to time as a sort of cure, serving to whip citizens into shape, i.e. to make them submit to the law (10/1). He argues repeatedly that in the aristocratic state that he describes, the syndics supervise adherence to the law. Their administration is meant to be under conditions preventing them from finding such self-importance in their function that they could become too dangerous to a state concerned with balancing different forces (10/2). Spinoza sees, however, an internal danger for the aristocratic state in the inclinations of men that can in no way be controlled by state laws and their controllers. Dangerous for the state would be those ways of living that incline towards vice (vitia; 10/5–8) which Spinoza understands first of all as a laxness of men observable in times of peace where one no longer has to struggle to defend the country. One should also assume this includes vices such as penchants for pageantry and luxury as they appear with excessive wealth. It is precisely the wealthy sustaining the aristocratic state that are susceptible to this latter. Aside from this Spinoza sees vices – here he becomes moralizing – in the tendency to hold native customs in low esteem and adept foreign ones, which, he believes, leads to a foreign determination of the people (servire; 10/4). This appears provincial. The loose life in Paris must have made the prude Spinoza uncomfortable. It also clearly expresses that a well-functioning state is and remains relative to the circumstances and cultural conventions of its population and the state must accommodate this in its laws. The rejection of

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the normative becomes the conservative definition of what exists from which, but not beyond which, the best has to be made. It leads to an adaptation of law to a morality understood as ethos in the sense that the state must support the moral life of men, at least in the form of stabilizing of what is suitable, i.e. of what is “agreeable to the nature of the place and the mentality of the people” (10/7). Good citizens are thus not only law-abiding but also morally intact. Indeed, Spinoza explicitly acknowledges that the fulfillment of moral obligations would have to occur “voluntarily rather than because the law compels [it]” (10/7). Yet this does not change his assignment to the state of a task to stabilize an ethos which is foreign to the modern perception of the relation between right and morality. Another possible danger for state stability is the onset of panic caused in the population by some particular events. The population may then wish for a great leader, one who could only be a military leader. For Spinoza, however, this has causes that cannot be attributed to a well-founded (recte constituta) republic (10/10). He likely considers that a panic, which is always irrational, is not internally provoked if the state controls the theologians and keeps irrational agitation in check. Apparently he did not have other heralds of salvation destroying the republic in mind. The only things remaining that could destroy the aristocracy are external causes. Spinoza sees these as a matter of unavoidable fate (inevitabile fatum, 10/1) which are not the responsibility of the form of governance. Here Spinoza likely considers an overpowering, foreign enemy conquering a people who are then forced into a new order, or a natural catastrophe against which nothing at all can be done. Spinoza’s extolment of aristocracy can perhaps be interpreted as an attempt to evoke this form of state in a renewed and optimal manner at a time when it was being eliminated in Holland (1672). Spinoza suggests (8/44) that the revolt of 1672, which brought a change in state form to the Netherlands may be attributable to the patricians having had too little trust in themselves and their own prudence and leaving too much to a clerk (Jan de Witt) who himself did not really have equivalent colleagues to assist him. They sacrificed him to an insubordinate mob in order to calm their rage. It was likely precisely the reaction of this mob that led Spinoza to mistrust a democracy in which not only a few explicitly elected people hold political responsibility but everyone by virtue of birth. This remains the case even if it is not everyone, but only those who are sui juris, i.e. not subject to the authority of another. Spinoza counts not only parents or guardians here, but also, relative to the times, husbands and employers (11/3). On the other hand – and this should not be overlooked – Spinoza expresses a well-reasoned skepticism of his own model for the aristocracy in the chapter

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on democracy. This model describes what would only be an ideal case. It assumes that, in the election of their representatives, the patricians would be “free of every affect, and guided only by zeal for the public well-being”, though “experience has shown abundantly that things don’t work that way” (11/2). Here Spinoza places—surprisingly, after what he has expounded so far—the fundamental principle of aristocracy in question – the self-completion of political responsibility through co-optation – because this principle is exposed to the danger that the election would be dependent upon something purely arbitrary detached from law of right (“ab absoluta […] libera sive omni lege soluta voluntate pendeat”, 11/2). Patricians would have the inclination to keep the best out of the assembly and to elect those who will please them, i.e. they would pursue a clan-economy, whereby the aristocracy degenerates into an “oligarchy”. From a realistic vantage point, Spinoza sees a tendency for decline immanent to aristocracies which, as formulated in the democracy chapter, leads back to the undemocratic principle of the political elite associated with separation. This leads to a few following their own interests and a loss of regard for public well-being. Spinoza attributes this to the patricians also being exposed to affects which prevent them from acting in a wise manner corresponding to reason. That their affects cannot be tamed in such a way that reason is brought to bear in their decisions, and certainly not through the mechanisms required by Spinoza for decision-making processes, is ultimately grounded in a few being unable to decide for everyone. Formulated otherwise, when they claim this political responsibility for themselves, they inevitably become self-regarding and succumb to the affect of vanity which advances what is merely private. With that said, the general problem of the aristocracy, even when one ­wishes to make it strong, is the question as to how to prevent political rulers from behaving towards people excluded from politics merely like caring fathers and guardians.10 What is cared for will always depend on the selfunderstanding of the ones caring. In an aristocracy these are patricians oriented by affluence. This is not a prosperity that somehow comes to them through heritage or inherited privileges. They acquire it by virtue of their activities. If wealth is viewed as a good stemming from one’s own activity, then one must attribute this sort of independent activity to those participating in this good and is not permitted to view it as a gift given to the people to prevent them from rebelling. Participation in well-being must not be understood as goodwill that is simply granted, because this would define those to whom it is granted as foreign. Spinoza therefore repeatedly points out that the laws of right ­restricting 10

James 2008, pp. 128–146, by contrast, sees in paternalism an element which moves towards freedom.

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individual arbitrariness must not be understood as a force from outside. Instead, they must preserve the relation to individual freedom, that subjects do what the laws require of them according to possibility, i.e. voluntarily (sponte) and not coerced by external force (vi) or dictated by circumstances (necessitate), a differentiation which Spinoza had not yet made in preparation of the monarchy chapter (6/3).11 However, this certainly is not possible if the subjects do not understand the laws as their laws. They can only be their laws if those subject to the law can also participate in the legislative process. This is not the case for subjects in an aristocracy where they are excluded from it. Thus, the freedom pertaining to subjects cannot simply be the freedom to express opinions. One cannot see the extent to which this sort of freedom is at all practically effective. It will indeed be a freedom of opinion even as participation in the legislative process and therefore, despite all of the discursivity committed to argumentation, will remain encumbered by those imponderables that do not allow stating that the people speaks with one voice. Spinoza believed he could claim precisely this of the political assemblies of the aristocratic state, and had inferred from this that its form was unchangeable. Yet the state will be changeable in form, especially with regard to universal political responsibility. To demand that the form of a political entity should be “everlasting” is an illusion that Spinoza appears to succumb to. He believed that the model of internally non-competitive unity of the wise developed in the Ethics could be analogously applied to politics. Yet the model of the Ethics is based upon an adequate knowledge that is not that upon which politics is based.12 The analogy fails because politics has to consider “all men everywhere, whether Barbarians (barbari) or civilized (culti)” (1/7) in what constitutes a civil state (status civilis) and therefore necessarily remains exposed to a divergence of notions concerning the successful life rooted in affects and therefore in an inadequate knowledge.13 Making these divergent notions into a stable unity can only succeed through the participation of everyone who has such notions, i.e. in democracy.14 Its goal can only be to keep the state as legislative entity as stable as possible. However, this cannot be “everlasting” in a culturally divergent and contingent form. Spinoza can therefore only show with good reason which conditions bring the aristocratic state the highest possible stability and that it is additionally more capable of carrying out its duties than a monarchy’s 11 12 13 14

For affirmation of this, see Walther in this volume. Sorell 2008, pp. 147–165 has concluded from this that there is an instability pervading Spinoza’s entire political theory. To have regard for human imagination (imaginari) does not mean to see in it the principle of unity sustaining the state. Gatens/Lloyd 1999 has this tendency. Cf. Celikates 2006, pp. 43–65.

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autocracy. However, he cannot show that it could have foundations that would permanently prevent its transformation into a democracy. Spinoza’s assertion is sooner that it can only attain its stability in a well-understood integration of the multitude’s power into the framework of political dominion and that such a transformation is already inherent to this. Bibliography Balibar, Étienne (1985): Spinoza. La crainte des masses. In: Giancotti, Emilia (ed.): Proceedings of the First Italian International Congress on Spinoza. Napoli, pp. 293–320. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1993): Theorie und Praxis in Spinozas Ethik und Politik. In: ­Studia Spinozana 9, pp. 59–78. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1996): Ökonomie und Recht in Spinozas Theorie des Staates. In: Immenga, Ulrich/Möschel, Wernhard/Reuter, Dieter (eds.): Festschrift für ErnstJoachim Mestmäcker. Baden-Baden, pp. 63–76. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2010): Spinoza. Politischer Traktat/Tractatus politicus. 2nd ed. Hamburg, p. xxxvff. Celikates, Robin (2006): Demokratie als Lebensform. Spinozas Kritik des Liberalismus. In: Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Heidelberg, pp. 43–65. Gatens, Moira/Lloyd, Genevieve (1999): Collective Imaginings. Spinoza, Past and Present. London. Hindrichs, Gunnar (2006): Die Macht der Menge – der Grundgedanke in Spinozas politischer Philosophie. In: Id. (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Heidelberg, p. 39f. James, Susan (2008): Democracy and the Good Life in Spinoza’s Philosophy. In: Huenemann, Charlie (ed.): Interpreting Spinoza. Cambridge, pp. 128–146. Lazzeri, Christian (1998): Droit, pouvoir et liberté. Spinoza critique de Hobbes. Paris. Matheron, Alexandre (1985): La fonction théorique de la démocratie chez Spinoza. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 259–273. Ramond, Charles (2005): Spinoza. Tractatus politicus/Traité politique. Paris. Sorell, Tom (2008): Spinoza’s Unstable Politics of Freedom. In: Huenemann, Charlie (ed.): Interpreting Spinoza. Cambridge, pp. 147–165. Terpstra, Marin (1993): An Analysis of Power Relations and Class Relations in Spinoza’s Tractatus politicus. In: Studia Spinozana 9, pp. 79–105.

Spinoza’s Theory of Absolute Democracy (TP, Chapters 7/5, 8/1, 11; ttp 16) Rainer Keil It is noteworthy that Spinoza had turned his thoughts toward democracy already in the time of the early Enlightenment, taking a decidedly defensive position for something which did not enjoy a good reputation in the 18th century and into the 19th century.1 No longer known by many in Germany, he is honored in the United States, even in the daily press, as pioneering elements of an enlightened theory of democracy which remains politically relevant in many respects.2 Spinoza’s statement was made in the framework of a scientifically described idea [Konzept] (1/4). He worked with arguments which no longer sound familiar today. This is also the case where they are based upon approaches to practical issues that still appear worth considering3 and often applicable. Accompanying this are specific matters causing difficulties for an adequate understanding of Spinoza’s theory of democracy. Rectifying these difficulties requires one to occupy oneself with what Spinoza has formulated. The following remarks will comment upon Chapter xi of the Political Treatise – first published posthumously in 16774 and discontinued after only four paragraphs – in relation to other important passages concerning Spinoza’s theory of democracy. 1 Schmidt 2010, Introduction, p. 21. According to the usage of the time based upon antique models, this pertains to an uninhibited, immediate (cf., for example, Madison, Federalist Nr. x. In Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, pp. 125–128) democracy and not necessarily one with a separation of powers (Maus 1994, pp. 191–202, 194). Corresponding to this, Jefferson still saw occasion in 1816 to explicitly distance himself from the Greek model by extoling a government as “democratical, but representative” (Letter to I.H. Tiffany, 1816, cited in Jefferson 1939, p. 22). Definitive antique expressions of concepts of democracy would be those of Aristotle and before him, Plato. A quite differentiated picture of what Aristotle had formulated about democracy is drawn by Schmidt 2010, Ch. 1, pp. 27–48, esp. p. 34, according to which Aristotle rejected “extreme democracy” – one of the four types of democratic dominion – which would be characterized by a lack of rule of law and demagogic rule:; on Plato, cf. Schmidt 2010, Ch. 1.4, pp. 37–40, esp. p. 38. For an example of the significance of the revolutions of 1789 and 1848 for the establishment of democratic ideals, see Kelsen 1981, p. 1. 2 As by Goldstein 2006b on the occasion of the 350th anniversary of his excommunication. 3 Steinberg 2013, Section 4.3.3 emphasizes: “What is particularly interesting is how Spinoza defends […] democratic features, since this gives us insight into how democracies are to be defended in general”. 4 Bartuschat 2010, p. vii.

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Remarks on democracy can already be found at earlier points in the Political Treatise before the unfinished remains of Chapter 11 “finally” (tandem, 11/1) deal expressly with the democratic form of state, in particular in § 5 of the 7th chapter and thereafter in § 1 of Chapter 8 concerning the principles of the aristocracy of one city. Additionally, Spinoza had already remarked upon democracy in the Theological-political Treatise, appearing in 1670, especially in the 16th chapter, which carries the long title: “On the Foundations of the Republic; on the natural and civil right of each person; and on the Right of the Supreme Powers”. What is Spinoza concerned with when he speaks in these passages of “democracy”? In what follows, the question is initially pursued with a view to the conceptual character (i) of democracy. In connection with this, remarks on a democracy’s ways of functioning as regards relations of war, conflict, and peace and as counterpart to a monarchy are considered (ii). Thereafter the question concerning the basis of Spinoza’s trust in democracy for producing materially just results will be handled (iii). The commentary will close with a short attempt to illuminate the question concerning the extent to which Spinoza also establishes a normative theory of democracy (iv). I

Conceptual Characteristics of Democracy

The conceptual definition of what Spinoza likes to refer to as democraticum imperium (for example, 8/1; similarly in 11/1: imperium, quod democraticum appe/lamus) poses particular difficulties. 1. Spinoza supplies a strictly formal specification to distinguish it from aristocracy. He initially characterizes the latter as follows: We’ve said that a state is Aristocratic if the rule is not by one man, but by certain men selected from the multitude, whom we’ll henceforth call Patricians (8/1). In order to distinguish it from a democracy, he then states: For this is the chief difference between an Aristocratic and Democratic state: in an Aristocratic state the right to govern depends only on choice [in the sense of co-optation, R.K.], whereas in a Democratic state it depends chiefly on either some innate right or (as we’ll say in the proper place) on a right acquired by fortune (8/1). According to this, it would seem that what is decisive for the difference from aristocracy is not who has access to the group permitted to make political

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d­ ecisions. It is rather whether the already existing group decides about new entry, as in an aristocracy, or if admission results necessarily from a general law. In the culminating words of Spinoza: So even if the whole multitude of a state should be admitted among the Patricians, provided that right is not hereditary, and does not pass to other by some common law, that state will still be completely Aristocratic, since no one except those who are expressly chosen is admitted among the Patricians (8/1). Democracy is not about a selection of the best, as it is, for example, in the work of Max Weber.5 It is also not about a principle of merit – performance or at least the ability to perform – in contrast to noble affiliation by birth. Instead, Spinoza seems confronted by the reverse assumption, that precisely aristocracy would be rule of the best (11/2). And for the citizens of democracies he takes into account that they have suffrage by virtue of law – for example as the children of citizens (11/2). This corresponds to the fact that it is not always characteristic of a democracy for as many people as possible to be politically entitled. Spinoza gives the impression that it would be of central importance not to select, but to establish a general law regarding who belongs to the circle of the politically authorized. It would therefore be a democracy even if this law excludes a considerable portion of the potential citizenry (11/2).6 2. This gives the impression that the single, central characteristic of democracy would be the legal establishment of the group holding political eligibility and as if there were no material criterion whatsoever for assessing who has civil rights in a democracy. Yet this impression should be mistaken. What does this characteristic have to do with what Spinoza says directly at the beginning of Chapter 11 about that form of state7 (imperium) “which we call Democratic” (11/1), namely, that it is a “completely absolute state”? 5 Concerning the elites, Weber’s sociology of dominion is not about the circle of those belonging to the electorate, but about selecting the forces of political leadership. Cf. Schmidt 2010, Ch. 9.1, p. 164ff. 6 “So suppose it’s established by law that only Elders who’ve reached a certain age, or only firstborn sons (as soon as their age permits), or only those who contribute a certain sum of money to the Republic, can have the right to vote in the supreme Council, and to manage the business of the state. The result of such a law could be that the supreme Council is composed of fewer citizens than the Council of an Aristocratic state […]. Nevertheless, states of this kind ought to be called Democratic. For their citizens, who are destined to govern the Republic, are not chosen by the supreme Council as the best, but are destined for this status by law”. 7 On why this translation of “imperium” (as “état” in French and thus “state” in English) in the context of Sponiza’s political work is preferable to other conceivable possibilities, see Moreau 1985, pp. 355–366, esp. 361ff.

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It may become clear what the adjective “absolute”8 [“unrestricted”, uneingeschränkt] relates to here if one reads a passage – also from Chapter 11 – according to which “we can conceive different kinds of Democratic state”, of which Spinoza will only handle one, namely the one in which absolutely everyone who is bound only by the laws of his native land, and who is, furthermore, his own master and lives honorably, has the right to vote in the supreme Council and to stand for political offices (11/3). Obviously, it is not only significant that and how (formally) access to political rights is normatively regulated, but also (materially) who is eligible according to this regulation. This is also confirmed by a quick look at Chapter 16 of the Theological-Political Treatise where democracy is defined as “a general assembly of men which has, as a body, the supreme right over everything in its power” (ttp 16/26); likewise the passage in 2/17 where democracy is the form of state in which sovereignty is assigned to an assembly “made up of the common multitude”. How then do these two behave toward one another? Perhaps decisive is the insight that the election (8/1) of political authorities characteristic of an aristocracy concerns a “co-opted election of its members”.9 From the perspective of the privileged it may present itself as an act of freedom, as acting in the implementation of the inherent, individual striving which is always their own (cf. 8/2). However, this is not the case from the perspective of the others who are likewise subject to the laws of the land but who have no decision regarding the distribution of political rights. For them cooptation not only represents an act of foreign rule, but even one that – contrary to traditional, charismatic notions of the elite10 – by no means takes place among the best and not even as paternalistically11 oriented by their – the public’s – well-being (11/2). Instead, it occurs solely in the interest of those who are already able to decide, as it is with slave-relations (ttp 16/33). When there is no effective incentive for one to prove themselves “because they lack rivals” (11/2), this leads to oligarchical tendencies dissolving lawful bonds (11/2) and consideration for the common well-being. 8 9 10 11

There is a brief, instructive overview of the use of absolutum in Spinoza’s entire work in the article “Absolu(e), Absolument (absolutus, absolute)”, in Ramond 1999, p. 5f. Bartuschat 2010, p. xxxvi. On the “unmasking of elitist charisma” in Spinoza, see Battisti 1977, p. 633. On paternalism as contested topos of the enlightenment, see Grunert 2006, pp. 9–27.

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In a particularly clear case of democracy absolutely all those decide who are their own master, subject to the laws of the land, and who live honorably. In other cases, it is at least not the reverse. The politically authorized are not chosen by a group of privileged aristocrats, it is not the particular striving of a section of the multitude, not the allegedly bondless “will of the patricians” (11/2) which tips the scales regarding who is permitted to decide. Instead, an abstract and general law stipulates who has political rights. This law assists in preventing foreign determination concerning civil rights and elevating despotism by allowing for a regulation that is general and abstract. This matter may also serve other specifications, for example, foreigners’ unconditional exclusion from the right to vote (11/3), which Spinoza, son of a refugee, nonetheless accompanies with a sincere openness to naturalization and acquisition of citizenship by birth for foreign children born inland (6/32, renewed 7/23) – much different than has often been the case with later opponents of foreigners’ voting rights.12 Even the exclusion of women and servants – named in the same breath as children and underaged persons – from political rights rests upon their being “under the power of their husbands and masters” (11/3). That this would nevertheless be the case, as experience would show, “by nature”, which allegedly “occurs only because of their weakness” (11/4), and not as an institutional regulation following from human action (factum),13 that it therefore “cannot happen that each sex rules equally” (11/4) – none of this was or is comprehensible.14 Additional characteristics of democracy can be found in the TheologicalPolitical Treatise. Democracy is defined there as “a general assembly of men which has, as a body, the supreme right over everything in its power” (ttp 16/25). Spinoza elaborates this explicitly to the effect that “no law binds the supreme power. Everyone must obey it in everything” (ttp 16/ibid.). Is this 12

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For many of the contributions to this discussion see Quaritisch 1980, p. L 136ff., L 137f., which ultimately aims at the consequences of naturalization. On demands for the abolishment of previously provided foreign voting rights and the restrictive naturalization policy from the circles of the Know Nothing Party in the usa prior to the first World War, see Keil 2006, p. 404. On a solution to the question of foreign voting rights which differentiates according to political levels (federal, member state, local), see Keil 2006, pp. 517–521, 522–526. In the German translation of 11/4 the Latin factum is rendered “to be the case” (der Fall sein). However, what is meant with this rendering is not only or even particularly “the actual result” (der tatsächliche Befund), but the facet of its causation by “something which is done” (ein Getanes, factum). On women and slaves, see Battisti 1977, pp. 623–634, esp. pp. 625–630. On p. 629 one finds a convincing assessment: “History seems here to become, even for Spinoza, an instrument of prejudice”. Similarly and with further references, see Bartuschat 2010, p. xxxvii f.

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absoluteness of dominion a specific feature of democracy? Has Spinoza not also said of the oligarchy, to which an aristocracy can degenerate, that the will of the patricians breaks away from public well-being and boundness to law (11/2)? And conversely, is it not the case in the framework of his predominately descriptive statements that legal obligation exists only in the sense that a commonwealth is (more precisely, the rulers are) bound to laws in the state of nature whereby each “must take care not to kill himself” (4/5)? Yes, but at least in this sense! Alexandre Matheron pointed out in 198515 that, according to Spinoza, “one man alone can [never] control the supreme Right of a Commonwealth” (6/5). Even in an aristocracy, from a real [tatsächlich] (and that means lawful) perspective, governing authority is “not in practice absolute”, because the multitude terrifies the rulers (8/4). Aristocracy only approaches the absolute form of dominion (8/7). It is solely with democracy that no problems are presented by the fact that contracts are only binding for the duration and by virtue of their utility (ttp 16/20) – contrary to the assumed pacta sunt servanda handed down by the tradition of substantive natural law16 – and that this also applies for the contract by which power is transferred17 (ttp 16/20f.). As experience teaches, only here no threat arises from the fact that those to whom men transfer their power fear men and that men are dangerous to them (ttp 17/31ff.).18 This is because in a democracy the rulers and subjects coincide.19 They do not confront one another as potential enemies. Here the authority to govern is not divided horizontally between those that exercise it and the multitude which recognizes it20 and from which it ultimately stems. More precisely, the multitude is not divided in such a way that one part would have the authority to decide and another part the possibility to recognize it or deny it recognition. Rather, both pertain to all sides of the multitude in common. 15 16 17

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Matheron 1985b, p. 271; similarly, Walther 1985b, p. 90. Walther 1985b, pp. 73–104, 80. Walther 1985, p. 94 points out that there “is nothing individuals could renounce in the ‘transition’ into the civil state”. In the end, with regard to the constitution of the state, Spinoza can argue entirely “from the natural dialectic of individuals working on one another” (p. 95) and no longer take the contract-argument seriously. Aristotle has prepared this idea, cf. Aristotle 1981, Book iii, Chapter 11, 1281 b. The question as to whether or not such a notion is correct in the framework of a descriptive approach cannot be considered here. Here I will simply refer – in place of much – to the concerns of Hermann Heller in his doctrine of the state in: Heller 1992, pp. 359–406: “Yet also in a democracy with equal social chances, the people can only rule by means of a ruling organization. Each organization requires an authority and all exercise of power is subject to the law of the small number; those who enact the operation of power consolidated in organization must always have a certain amount of freedom to decide at their disposal and thus a power not bound by democratic rule”. Matheron 1985b, p. 271.

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The “general assembly of men which has, as a body, the supreme right over everything in its power” (ttp 16/25), would collapse if each individual were to not transfer his entire power. Precisely to the extent that individuals have provided a caveat against the transfer of power to [the] society, i.e., to the extent that “they ought at the same time to have taken care that they could defend it safely” (ttp 16/25), the aim of the necessary assembly of men “to live securely” (ttp 16/12) can no longer be achieved. Reservation is therefore impossible, in the words of Spinoza, “without dividing, and thereby destroying, the sovereignty” (ttp 16/25). Individuals experience protection through participation, in such a way that in a democracy no one so transfers his natural right to another that in the future there is no consultation with him. Instead he transfers it to the great part of the whole Society, of which he makes one part. In this way everyone remains equal, as they were before, in the state of nature (ttp 16/36). According to Spinoza, unlike in other forms of government, “no law binds supreme power” (ttp 16/25), in the sense that in its forced provisions against its own downfall it does not experience any inhibition of its immanent movement. Rather, in a democracy these provisions would have the effect – in this case against the collapse of the multitude into particular groups of monarchic or aristocratic rulers and the subjects confronting them – that the supreme powers only very seldom “command great absurdities […] it is incumbent on them most of all to consult the common good, and to direct everything according to the dictate of reason” (ttp 16/29). The factual pressure to establish a consensus upon which the survival of the state depends suggests general, reasonable decisions and liberates “sounds reason” (ttp 16/33) from the chains of particular interests which are not comprehensible intersubjectively. This matter will be returned to.21 II

Democracy in the Political Treatise as Counterpart to Monarchy with Regard to the Relation to War, Conflict, and Peace

Spinoza formulates something regarding democracy in 7/5 that offers a sort of counterpart to the monarchy thematized there. He addresses, among other things, the relation of the forms of state to conflict, war, and peace. He writes that a multitude “freely transfers to a King only what it cannot have absolutely 21

Cf. iii, below.

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in its power, i.e., an end to controversies and speed in making decisions” (7/5). He sees “the chief feature of a Democratic state” in that “its excellence is valued much more highly in peace than in war” (7/5). What does this chief feature consist in? Spinoza does not explicitly say this here. 1. In particular, the concern here is not yet the “great zeal for, and love of, peace” – first discussed in 7/7 – of the majority of a council composed (6/5) of citizens concerned with the consequences of war,22 first explicitly discussed for monarchies (7/7), but more properly intended for democratic republics and their supreme council (11/1). What has already been laid out in its essence, though not explicitly put forward and worked out as the Thesis on the Inclination of Republics or Democracies Towards Peace – still often and contentiously discussed today23 and in the meantime associated with Immanuel Kant24 – does not refer to the advantage of democracy in times of peace, but the probability of its advent and stability. 2. Spinoza formulates about the election of a king negatively: “choosing a king to be better able to conduct war […] is sheer stupidity” (7/5). On the one hand such a choice and the implied transfer of right – of power (cf. 2/3f. and ttp 16) – to one person would mean that people resort to being “slaves in peace” for the sake of potential future war (7/5). Contra Aristotle,25 he defines slavery as a status of being subjugated that is characterized by foreign utility as opposed to the example of the child who is subjugated for its own benefit. With this he distinguishes that the slave “is bound to obey the commands of a master, which are concerned only with the advantage of the person issuing the command” (ttp 16/35). Individual striving (conatus) towards the preservation of one’s own being (2/7f; similarly in ttp 16/15) and the affects grounded in it (1/4f)26 – which have to be accepted as a fundamental fact – can hardly be asserted here. This speaks against the enduring stability of a monarchic state. 3. Furthermore, Spinoza doubts that there can be peace in a monarchy with the following formulation: “if, indeed, peace is conceivable in a state whose supreme power has been transferred, simply for the sake of war, to one man” 22 23 24 25

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Cf. 7/7 on these people and their fear of “losing their property along with their freedom”, on expenses “which they have to supply”, and on nothing but “unprofitable scares” for those who have to go to war. See Höffe 2006, Ch. 10, pp. 177–188 for insight into the recent debate. Kant 1932, pp. 24–26. Cf. Aristotle 2013, Book i, Chapter 5, Section 10, 1255a: According to Aristotle here, to be a slave by nature is “advantageous and just” for the slave. On human universality as “specific and immediate basis of democracy” in Spinoza in contrast to the exclusivity of freedom in antique models, see Negri 2004, p. 9. Bartuschat 2010, p. VIIIf. See also the contribution of Kirste and Walther in this volume.

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(7/5). What at first appears as another, completely different perspective may be intended as a substantiating completion of the main argument (above ii.2): For Spinoza, peace isn’t the privation of war, but a virtue which arises from strength of mind. For it’s obedience, a constant will to do what must be done in accordance with the common decree of the Commonwealth (5/4). In preceding chapters he has explained the consequence of a purely negative concept of peace, for which monarchy would not have less worth than democracy. “If”, he writes in 6/4, “slavery, barbarism, and being without protection are to be called peace, nothing is more wretched for men than peace”. Prior to this he had formulated when the peace of a Commonwealth depends on its subjects’ lack of spirit – so that they’re led like sheep, and know only how to be slave – it would be more properly called a wasteland than a Commonwealth (5/4). The harmony in which men pass their lives in the best state is not, by contrast, one in which life simply functions, but is defined “mostly by reason, the true virtue and life of the Mind” (5/5). Thus there seems to be a specific relation of a positive concept of peace to the best form of dominion: They condition one another. Yet the matter is not so clear. If peace consists not only in the absence of war and violent conflict, it should at least always include both. And although it is certain that “everyone prefers ruling to being ruled”, the occasion for the remarks in 7/5 (including the preceding quotation) is the alleged experience that there is a problem for peace that men commonly sought to solve with the establishment of a monarchy. It would be clear, Spinoza writes, that a whole multitude would never transfer its right to one or a few people, if its members could agree among themselves and not go from the kind of controversy generally aroused in large Councils to a rebellion (7/5). Earlier it is stated that experience would seem to teach that it is in the interest of peace and harmony when all power is conferred on one man. No state has stood so long without notable change as that of the Turks. On the other hand, none have been less lasting than popular, or Democratic states. Nowhere else have there been so many rebellions (6/4).

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Theun de Vries views these sentences as indicating that Spinoza rejected popular rule [Volksherrschaft].27 If the answer to the question “what [is] the best condition of each state” is easily known “from the end of the civil condition” and this end is nothing other than the “peace and security of life” (5/2), this poses a fundamental problem for democracy: If its merits are shown above all in peace, but at the same time democracy and peace are already compromised if one uses a negative concept of peace – the absence of rebellion and war and the conditio sine qua non of the positive. The tentative solution offered by Spinoza in 7/5 is – corresponding to the thematic of the entire chapter – embedded in a concept of monarchy, not yet one of democracy. It reads that the multitude, of free resolve, transfers to the king only what it “cannot have absolutely in its power, i.e. an end to controversies and speed in making decisions” (7/5). Monarchy is factually limited rule. Its incumbent “fears his own citizens more than his enemies”. And he is therefore constantly anxious to protect himself from his subjects (6/6). For instance, he does not have the right – this means power (cf. 2/3f. and ttp 16) in Spinoza’s descriptive-realist doctrine – to make a decision against the mind of the entire council or to follow notions that are not put forth in the council (7/5).28 It remains unclear how, according to Spinoza, this tension can resolve itself in the context of a democracy. III

Faith in Absolute Democracy in the Face of the Problems of Material Justice

We have seen at the end of I.2 that according to Spinoza nonsensical dictates are indeed very seldom in a democracy, though they can sometimes occur. As in other forms of state, they are binding in the absolute democracy because they correspond to the choice of the lesser evil. Yet they are unlikely because, as Spinoza intends, it would be nearly impossible that the majority of a great assembly would agree to an absurdity (ttp 16/30). The reasons for this trust in the size of an assembly and the majority are not entirely clear.29 After to more recent, and problematic experiences with the “unlimited power of the majority”30 in democracy, these reasons are of particular interest.

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De Vries 1964, p. 1318. Cf. the contribution of Walther in this volume. Curley 1996, p. 317; for an attempt at a solution, see also p. 332f. Described in detail by Tocqueville 1948 (French, 1835), chapter xv, pp. 254–270.

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1. Perhaps Spinoza hopes, as Battisti suspects, that “the larger the number of those entitled to discuss, to express an opinion and vote, the freer from possible errors will be the decision that must be made”.31 For this view, based on knowledge and accuracy, one can argue that in 7/5 Spinoza finds it inconceivable that “there can be a solution to the problem they’re being consulted about which will escape such a large number of men”, as it is with the king’s assembly of councils and becomes even more properly valid with the supreme council of an absolute democracy (11/3), to which every decent citizen who is his own master belongs. If it is solely reason that can, in spite and in the face of individual affects, make intersubjective peace possible,32 the state must then preserve “the relation to the individuals’ reason and the freedom articulated therein”.33 By arguing in this context for a large number of men, Spinoza in substance prepares34 a thinking expressed 110 years later by James Madison. Madison begins from an image of man, which, quite similar to Spinoza’s in this respect, assumes an always existing bond of man’s “reason and his self-love”35 as well as a capacity for public communication. With the following words he opposes the prevalent view advocated by opponents of a federal unification of the United States, according to which political freedom would be best realized in small political entities: Extend the sphere and you take in a greater variety of parties and interests; you make it less probable that a majority of the whole will have a common motive to invade the rights of other citizens; or if such a common motive exists, it will be more difficult for all who feel it to discover their own strength and to act in union with each other […] where there is consciousness of unjust or dishonourable purposes, communication is always checked by distrust in proportion to the number whose concurrence is necessary.36 31 32 33 34

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Battisti 1977, p. 633; more precise and with further references regarding the “epistemic advantage of democracy”, see Steinberg 2013, Section 4.3.3; further Nadler 2011, p. 193ff. Bartuschat 2010, p. viii. Bartuschat 2010, p. xiv; cf. ttp 16 Matters suggesting a correlation between Spinoza’s ideas and the American Revolution, both in a factual context and that of the history of ideas (facilitated by J. Locke), are more precisely demonstrated by Goldstein 2006a, pp. 259–262. Walther 1990, p. 292f. draws attention to the fact that copies of the ttp and the Opera Posthuma belonged to Thomas Jefferson’s library. On resonances in the political theory of the French and German Enlightenment, see Steinberg 2013, Section 6. Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 124. Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 127f.

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By the application of these means, Madison hopes for the consolidation of state stability, the containment of “violence of faction”,37 as well as the violence of “spectacles of turbulence and contention”38 as they would arise when a partisan section of citizenry has unchecked control over a differently ori­ented section. Thus his application of this device, of increasing the number of citizens through the creation of a larger national territory, does not lie far from the argumentative core upon which Spinoza’s hope in the effect of a large assembly rests. Madison, of course, supplemented the device of enlarged citizenship with more in mind. This includes the representative delegation of authorities to the elected officials – in order “to refine and enlarge public views”39 – as well as the separation of personnel in the exercise of legislative, executive, and juridical state functions.40 The same is not yet found in Spinoza.41 If Spinoza, more than 70 years before the appearance of Montesquieu’s De l’esprit des lois, still had more of a monistic and non-segmented view of the state, it is nevertheless not misleading to state that his system is open42 to a functional internal-­ differentiation – a system that divides authorities – for which one may perhaps invoke the plural form that he uses in certain cases when naming the supreme authority (the supreme right, ius summarum potestatum, 4/1). The delegation of decision-making authorities is more complicated since the Ethics (E4 P73) already concerns itself decisively with being able to recognize oneself in “common decision” and 11/3 explicitly with granting everyone voting power in the supreme assembly, perhaps directly in deciding matters of particular significance. Meanwhile, Spinoza had to deal with the problem that it is not selfevident that all people – including the politically active – allow themselves to be led by reason. For its part, politics can only guarantee life through external reference, which at best causes life to appear in accordance with the demands of reason, without leading to its always being carried out on the basis of being motivated by reason.43 If certain empirical circumstances make Madison correct that delegating authorities to elected officials leads to a refinement of relevant approaches, such that the decision to politically guarantee the free life is motivated, for its part, less by non-reflective affects and more by sober-­ minded argument, this does not necessarily contradict Spinoza’s approach in each case. It does not, for example, when “everyone who is bound only by 37 38 39 40 41 42 43

Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 122. Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 126. Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 126. Madison, Federalist Nr. X. In: Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, pp. 302–308, 303. One nevertheless finds divisions of authority in the institutional system described for a monarchy. See also Walther’s contribution to this volume. See footnote 45 below. Bartuschat 2010, p. Xf.

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the laws of his native land […] has the right […] to stand for political offices” (11/3), i.e., has passive franchise, and has an active right to vote in elections and when the circumstances are created such that worthiness of being recognized, capability of being recognized, and actual recognition of decisions increases from this. 2. According to Spinoza a decision is rational which serves the state’s end in the freedom and security of life (5/2) and there is only justice in a state in which “it’s decided by common Law what belongs to one person and what to another” (2/23). One is just “if he has a constant will to give to each person his own” (2/23). The insight into the inclusion of individuals perhaps points to another aspect: The more that men can exist and be determined to act from the necessity of their individual natures including the common statehood – hence freely (E1 Def7) –, the more they recognize themselves in the process of the state’s framework of right, thus the greater share in state decisions, the less likely an unfriendly collision between political decisions and certain individual aspirations and affects. In the words of Manfred Walther: “[T]hat state is most stable, in which the mutual balance of interests in the state does not occur behind the backs of the subjects concerned, but rather as known and deliberate”.44 This requires private freedom, but also freedom based on participation in political and public life. Spinoza makes clear the insight into the necessity of a private sphere of action for individuals which is not politically regulated: “Anyone who wants to limit everything by laws will provoke more vices than he’ll correct” (ttp 20/24). Not only is the state’s attempt to move a man to love someone that he hates judged as failure, but also that he would give up the freedom to expression and anything to the effect that “a man should act as a witness against himself, that he should torture himself, that he should kill his parents, that he should not strive to avoid death, and the like” (3/8): The end of the Republic, I say, is not to change men from rational beings into beasts or automata, but to enable their minds and bodies to perform their functions safely, to enable them to use reason freely, and not to clash with one another in hatred, anger or deception, or deal inequitably with one another (ttp 20/13). Because no one can dispense with their own judging, it cannot be “advantageous” (ttp 20/6) to deny one the “freedom to say and teach what he thinks” (ttp 20/9). This would only lead to violence. As Spinoza also sees it, insight 44

Walther 1985b, p. 88 (emphasis in the original).

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into the significance of the private sphere stands in a tension with the unreserved transfer of power (ttp 20/6) as postulated for democracy.45 However, this fits well with the clearly liberal orientation of his statements (ttp 20/12).46 Similarly important is insight into the significance of the political-civil-legal, as Jellinek has put it: the status-activus-freedom to participate. It announces itself already as a further aspect of the freedom of expression when Spinoza underlines that in critiquing an irrational law, one “deserves well of the republic” as long as the sovereign’s jurisdiction to modify the law remains uncontested (ttp 20/15). This insight into the relevance of the freedom to contribute politically still has significance today in the face of the strong current tendencies towards privatization, particularization, de-formalization, fragmentation,47 and the not uncommon identification of freedom with its private aspect. It refers to individuals experiencing themselves as politically free and to individual involvement in deciding what is an object of common decision-making and what should be included in private spheres of action. In the words of Manfred Walther: That form of state organization and jus civile best ensures the “freedom and security of life” that concedes a sphere of action protected by total power directed at that striving of each for the development of his own self-will and for the possibility to persuade others of his own verisimilitude and lifestyle, without it being the case that the accumulated power to act of the state-organized society would be destroyed. This is because each person’s own self-will is realized in legislation, i.e. concerned with a sphere of self-development, and bound up with its outcome through participation in the process.48 Thus one could49 see in Spinoza a precursor to Hans Kelsen’s later practical, psychological insights into democracy theory.50 These insights compared the 45

46 47 48 49 50

This tension is considerably relativized when one refers Spinoza’s unreservedness merely to the production of a power monopoly. This suggests that he tied possible reservations to the possibility of the armed defense of those with reservations. The notion that the negative competencies of the legislative body could be made effective in the form of something like fundamental rights within the institutional structure of the state does then not contradict Spinoza’s own notion. Cf. the above citation. Cf. with further references Koskenniemi 2004, p. 243; further, Viellechner 2007, pp. 36–57. Cf. Walther 2001, p. 95. On the peculiar fact that Kelsen did not see Spinoza as a predecessor, see Negri 2004, p. 55, fn. 17: “strange”. On Kelsen’s strong concordance with Spinoza in other contexts, see Walther 1985a, p. 414.

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autocratic repression of societal currents and counter-currents with repression in the individual psyche and claimed to be able to justify a similar analogy between the tendency towards individual neurosis and the tendency towards collective revolution. Democracy, on the other hand, makes affects part of the social consciousness and makes social compromise possible while also making possible a willingness to obey through the consciousness of having taken part in the decision-making process.51 3. The idea assonant in Spinoza, that there would be a connection between peace and virtue – virtue understood as discharge of the “strength of mind” (5/4) – and between virtue and democracy, is rediscovered later52 in different forms, notably, for example, with Montesquieu,53 but also in 18th century American revolutionaries54 or John Stuart Mill. The latter saw the central criterion for evaluating systems of governance in the enablement for the development of individual abilities and thus of individual virtue.55 It is precisely here that he intended to find the superiority of representative government over and against other state forms.56 Virtue as an element or requirement for a successful democratic state was also discussed in the American communitarian movement.57 The events surrounding the terror of Robespierre in republican France58 were unknown to Spinoza. He did not mention doubt in whether or not virtue can be established at all, when one understands it as a moral disposition, and at first glance seems, moreover, to believe that virtue can be fostered legally and institutionally (5/3).59 Finally, he did not emphasize so vehemently the 51 52

53 54

55 56 57 58 59

Kelsen 1981, p. 64f. On virtú as the “force” [German: “Kraft”] of successful political entities and as the mark, above all, of republics with awareness of freedom in the time before Spinoza, see the translation of Friedrich von Oppeln-Bronikowski in Machiavelli 2000, Second Book, Foreword, p. 174 and Ch. 2, pp. 181–187. Montesquieu 1989, Part i, Book 3, Ch. 3, pp. 22–24. On the importance of virtue in the ideas of the American revolutionary Jefferson: Notes on the State of Virginia, 1800, Query xix, in: Jefferson 1984, p. 290f.; Kramnick, Editor’s Introduction. In Madison/Hamilton/Jay 1987, p. 11–82; also there, Madison as a representative of the Federalists, p. 63, on the Anti-Federalists p. 58f.; Schmidt 2010, Ch. 5.2, p. 100 and Ch. 5.4, p. 108; Stourzh 1965, p. 247–267; on the later, more critical position, see Stourzh 1965, p. 248f. and p. 261 for John Adams; see Stourzh 1965, p. 265, fn. 38 for Thomas Jefferson. Further: Schloss 2003, esp. p. 47ff. and p. 59ff. Chapter 2 in Mill 1991, pp. 217–237, esp. 228f. Mill 1991, p. 226f. as well as Ch. 3, pp. 238–256, esp. 244. As presented in Keil 2013, p. 161. Cf. Schmid, Introduction, in: Robespierre 1989, pp. 9–36, esp. pp. 22–25. By contrast, Humboldt 1995 (first, 1851), Ch. viii, p. 112: “Denn abgerechnet, daß Zwang und Leitung niemals Tugend hervorbringen, so schwächen sie auch noch immer die Kraft”.

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great danger coming with an illusionary pursuit of such a goal, later formulated so clearly by Kant,60 or the normative transgression that is bound up with the recourse of right to the vetting of affirmative views.61 Every attempt to deal with the theme suitably must consider the exceedingly vicious resonance accompanying “virtue” always in a more or less severe way since the French Terror. Those who do not allow their unbiased view of Spinoza’s text to be spoiled, however, clearly hear the resonance of an entirely other sound vibrating here in virtus. Nothing lies further from a totalitarian culture of fear, suspicion, surveillance, exposure, shaming, and moral obliteration than the fearless view: So, a state whose well-being depends on someone’s good faith […] won’t be stable at all […] It doesn’t make any difference to the security of the state in what spirit men are led to administer matters properly, provided they do administer them properly (1/6). With this, Spinoza anticipates Kant’s dictum: “a nation of devils… (if only this people is but endowed with understanding)” is capable of forming a state.62 Spinoza affirmed this with the spurning differentiation: “For freedom of mind, or strength of character, is a private virtue. But the virtue of the state is security” (1/6). For Spinoza, a well-arranged state is distinguished in that the rulers and those ruled, regardless of their loyalty and “whether they want to or not”, “[do] what’s for the common well-being” (6/3). Spinoza formulates this so clearly that Norbert Campagna sees in it the expression of Spinoza’s illusion that personal political responsibility could be made to disappear entirely in institutions.63 Some authors conversely argue that Spinoza perhaps viewed the sovereign as having a substantive role in the moral life of citizens.64 However, where Spinoza speaks of “virtue” in the context of politics and right, the focus is not so 60

61 62 63 64

“But woe to the legislator who sought to bring about through coercion a [public] constitution directed to ethical purposes! For he would thereby not only bring about precisely the opposite of ethical purposes, but would also undermine his political ones and render them insecure” (Kant, Religion Within the Bounds of Bare Reason, 2009, p. 105). For relevant remarks on the psychological problematic of the destructive effect entailed in the attempt to publish one’s sentiments, Arendt 1963, pp. 91 f. Bielefeldt 2007, p. 189f. Kant 1932 (“Towards Perpetual Peace”) p. 45. Campagna 2001, p. 168. Nadler 2001, p. 197: “[H]e envisions a substantive role for the sovereign, including a democratic one, in the moral lives of citizens”.

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much on inner “morality”65 – “the desire to do good generated in us by our living according to the guidance of reason” (E4 P37S1), the “true virtue” of ethics understood as a life guided by reason (E4 P37S1) – but, initially and above all, in a manner similar to what Humboldt66 later formulates, the concern is the distinct energy immanent to the object of reflection at any given moment,67 for example “the power to exist and have effects” “according to the laws of human nature” (2/7), a consideration whose counterpart is not immediately and specifically wickedness, but rather the more general “weakness” (impotentia) (2/7). If Spinoza thereby also has in mind its highest possibility, its vigorous development towards “perfection” (2/7), and thus also already alludes to that “integrity of mind”68 [Integrität des Gemüts] in which rational understanding “does not remain external to [affective] desire”,69 this can occur for two reasons. On the one hand, the well-ordered state geared towards continued stability distinguishes itself by not prompting or compelling action that a man led by reason would not do of his own conviction (cf. 1/6). On the other hand, this sort of man would conversely take interest in the fact that even the knowledge he appreciates so much about what is good or bad relies upon “common agreement” (E4 P37S2). However, this sort of agreement presupposes the type of bindingness of a judgment which could only exist in the civil (state) condition (E4 P37S2). The requirement for this bond also rests upon being “decided by common consent” (E4 P37S2). In turn, this assumption is most likely justified when the decision comes about according to common consultation in an all-deciding supreme council with general voting power, as envisioned for the form of state Spinoza calls “absolute democracy” (11/3). However, such considerations are also undertaken in the context of a political science in which he targets “human nature” (1/4), as he does with science more generally, and carefully attempts to not “laugh at human actions, or mourn them, or curse them” and therefore to consider human affects “not as vices of human nature” (1/4). When Spinoza nevertheless writes that “the subject’s vices, and their excessive license and stubbornness, are to be imputed to the [weakness of the, R.K.] Commonwealth” (5/3) and “on the other hand, their virtue and constant observance of the laws are to be attributed most to 65 66 67 68 69

Cf. Bartuschat 2001, above all p. 34f. and pp. 36–40, esp. on the relationship between pietas as morality and virtus (virtue). Cf. Humboldt 1995, p. 101: “Meiner Idee nach ist Energie die erste und einzige Tugend des Menschen”. Cf. E4 Def 8, on the relevance of the points of reference of “virtue” for its proper understanding. Bartuschat 2001, p. 37. Bartuschat 2001, p. 34.

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the virtue of the Commonwealth” (5/3), his concern is not – entirely different from say, Christian Wolff70 – to promote virtue politically or legally through guiding standards and interventions. On the contrary, he views and formulates that this has “[a]bominable flattery and treachery” as its consequence (ttp 20). What he has in mind instead is that the prospering of virtue and fearlessness is to be imputed to the commonwealth’s “absolute right”, specifically a situation in which the highest possible number of individuals “live according to the common opinion of all” (2/15). Because, in reality, men are first “necessarily subject to affects, inconsistent and changeable” (E4 P37S2), and second, driven in different directions and opposite one another by these, and third, affects can only be inhibited through other, stronger affects (E4 P37S2), a general inhibiting of reciprocal harm caused by affects is required. A state assembly makes this possible by effectively managing the forcible retribution of damages and the implementation of laws by threat (E4 P37S2), so that individuals are safe from one another and “have trust in one another” (E4 P37S2). Additionally, the positively aligned common “opinion” (2/15) requires communication which makes the bond of reason to non-harming affects possible and the coordination of social life by the “guidance of reason” (cf. E4 P37S2). According to Spinoza’s thinking, this could most likely be realized in the fabric of absolute democracy, “in which absolutely everyone […] has the right to vote […] and to stand for political offices” (11/3). This means not only to coexist, as it does in private contexts, but, insofar as political determination concerns common right, to meet, discuss, and decide in a central “supreme Council” (11/3). After all this, it must have been decisive for Spinoza that the societal “peace and security of life” be criteria of the best form of state (5/2). It would not be stable if it didn’t succeed in producing compatibility, on the one hand, of individual affects and psychically effective conceptions ordering individual agency with the socio-political system on the other. Instability, then, is particularly threatening to peace when rooted in the opposite of what Spinoza designates as virtus, i.e. servile “lack of spirit” (inertia, 5/4). Rather than a civic “Commonwealth” (civitas, 5/4), this characterizes a lifeless and lonely “wasteland” (solitudo, 5/4) without communication, which is contradictory to the urge inherent in individuals and therefore unstable. Those who wish to assess the fruitfulness of Spinoza’s theory of democracy for the problem of the factual, non-legal preconditions of any constitutional liberal democracy must consider the meaning of this compatibility and the 70

On the necessary “state grasp of man’s interior” and the means of a “morally extensive penal law”, “an effectively disciplining religion”, and finally “limitless, authoritarian claim to organization” in Christian Wolff, see Grunert 2006, p. 15.

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conditions of its possibility. Spinoza’s use of virtus cannot be captured by positions that are heavily materially charged or conversely, though less clear, reduced to purely procedural relevance. It cannot necessarily be concluded to what extent the necessary compatibility of individual urges and ideas with the communication and decision structures of the entire society presupposes that some available material ideas are already socially shared.71 For this one may refer to 6/172 in connection with 2/17.73 Walther emphasizes that something which “affectively motivates humans in the positive sense” also belongs to the conditions constituting political freedom in Spinoza.74 In the case of democracy, there must also be citizens who “procure that pietas, that acknowledge the engagement for the constitution of the commonwealth making freedom possible which endures beyond the fluctuations of the imagination”.75 His point of reference, however, is never “final, fixable and […] therefore also never conclusively immune to regressions”.76 At the same time, it is unclear to what extent77 Spinoza satisfies a strictly procedural perspective. According to such a perspective, it is solely the life of many as “free multitude”, eager to organize itself (5/6), which creates the content, doing so before it is then ascribed to the processes78 of democratic review, consensus formation, and decision in an allegedly intelligent manner with the highest possible inclusivity (11/3). Considered in this way, such a procedure produces a dialectic, “conditional relation between the formal absoluteness of state legislated law and the material dependency on structures of motivation and interest present in society”.79 If one reads Spinoza in this way, the following can be formulated: “The state persists as long as this self-regulating mechanism, through which it defines its own essence,

71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79

For thoughts on the ethical requirements on the viability of liberal democracy, see Böckenförde 2004, § 24, Rn. 74–80, pp. 481–485; for empirical research on “Cultural Presuppositions of Democracy”, see Schmidt 2010, Ch. 24.4, pp. 420–426. “So a multitude […] agrees […] not because reason is guiding them, but because of some common affect […] a common hope, or fear, or a common desire to avenge some harm”. On crainte commune, see Matheron 1985a, p. 350. Here the reference of ex communi sensu to democracy is explicitly established. Walther 2001, p. 95. Walther 2001, p. 96. Walther 2001, p. 96. Habermas 1997, p. 263 provides an example for the meaning of a “motivational anchoring” of fundamental rights and principles for “the dynamically understood project of producing an association of the free and equal”. For an example without reference to Spinoza, see Maus 1994, pp. 249–294, esp. pp. 264 and 282. Walther 1985a, p. 413 fn.7.

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functions”.80 This occurs when the power of a multivocal multitude defines law (2/17) and – in this respect entirely unlimited in democracy (11/1) – is able to freely effect in such a way that it constantly mediates the drives and needs of individuals, including those predominate within the multitude, together with the concepts of action they formulate. Emphasis upon this last perspective is certainly more easily justified with Spinoza than the opposite view. However, it is likely a matter of “mutually constitutive moments of a process”.81 For Spinoza, also belonging to this is the notion that, in the formation of society, man is only “led as if by one mind”, where he can proceed from the “situation of an already existing state”.82 4. The following remains unclear: If the democratic system of state provides so much reason to assume a stabilizing effect, how can this be reconciled with the fact that, according to Spinoza – and here all appearances point to Spinoza following Plato’s notion of democracy as a sign of the deterioration of the polis leading to tyranny83 –, democracies are, as experience shows, so volatile and especially susceptible to upheaval (6/4) and that a multitude cannot have it in their power to reconcile disputes and bring them to good end through decree (7/5)? There is no inexorable answer found in the text, at least nothing of the sort that would permit a purely descriptive objective of the work. Matheron alleges a societal conatus – a natural urge for institutionalized democracy – which could be modified by external causes.84 But if impediments were external causes which – perhaps similar to those outlined by Machiavelli with the term fortuna85 –, are not within the range of human conduct,86 why should this affect democracies in some particular way? And, are democracies in fact particularly affected? IV

Normative Democracy Theory (as Well)?

Perhaps this is beside the matter. Perhaps, for Spinoza, the concern is not only to indicate the conditions of just any stability. Certainly he wishes to describe 80 81 82 83 84 85 86

Transl.: This quote is a translation of Keil’s own translation of Matheron 1985a, p. 351. The original French reads: “Et l’Etat subsistera aussi longtemps que fonctionnera ce méchanisme autoréglé par lequel se définit son essence même.” Walther 2001, p. 96 on the conflict between liberals and communitarians. Bartuschat 2010, p. xxv, similarly, p. xvii: “natural event that always already occurs”. Plato, “The Republic”, 1997 Book 8, 543c, 555b–569c. Matheron 1985b, p. 271 Machiavelli 2006, Ch. 25, p. 105–108. Freyer, Introduction, in: Machiavelli 1986, p. 19ff.

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the space remaining for the striving of individuals to persevere in their being respectively in differing forms of state. But this description only makes sense for Spinoza in view of the end immanent to the state: “peace and security of life” (5/2). This certainly does not only entail any kind of biological functioning of the body, but life as it is “defined […] most by reason, the true virtue and life of the mind” (5/5). If in “Principe” Machiavelli – whom Spinoza, likely on the basis of the “Discorsi”, saw as being “on the side of freedom” (5/7) – exhibits, on the basis of pure research that was not directed at an end, the means “a prince must use to stabilize and preserve his rule if all he craves is to be master”, his reason for doing so remains unclear to Spinoza (5/7). He suspects87 that Machiavelli, concerned with its disastrous consequences for the commonwealth, wished to warn against “entrusting […] well-being absolutely to one person” (5/7). Regarding the state’s end, it could be said that, even if threatened by collapse, democracy attains greater rapprochement, or better, a greater degree of perfection than other forms of state. As Spinoza writes, he “preferred to treat [democracy] before all others” because it seemed the most natural state, and the one which approached most nearly the freedom nature concedes to everyone (ttp 16/36). The sort of democratic system of state he treated allows obedience to occur “freely” (ttp 16/34). What is potentially intended here is from self-reflected striving, in a mode of existence “from the necessity of its nature alone, [which] is determined to act by itself alone” (E1 Def7). Yet it also allows to obey “from fear”. It is an order in which everyone knows he will be consulted and that the majority of society decides. “I preferred to treat it before all others”. Does this not sound emotional (cf. E4 P8),88 if only faintly, like the incidental music precisely of that criterion of rejection or approval,89 that identification of a personal discourse which is at once rationally accessible when faced with a practically solvable problem90 which is not91 characteristic of a distant, passive description of knowledge but rather of normative insight? Or perhaps none of this is valid with Spinoza because it would not be consistent with central assumptions of his philosophy? He conceives “reality ‘with regard to our capacity to think’ as a single […] system”, which is known to us 87 88 89 90 91

“Perhaps Machiavelli also wanted to show […]” (5/7). He writes here: “The knowledge of good and evil is nothing but an affect of joy or sadness, insofar as we are conscious of it”. Böckerstette 1982, p. 314: “demand and consent”. On the peculiarity of the practical, that “in acceptance on the basis of spontaneous performance of the self this is ‘constituted first and foremost’”, see Böckerstette 1982, p. 314f. Böckerstette 1982, p. 314: “What is correct is apparent, but what is good is primordially accepted”.

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“in two ways”, i.e. as extension and thinking, each time determined by law.92 In this framework there is also a particularly “close correlation of theoretical insight and human praxis […] a peculiar feature of Spinoza’s philosophy”.93 On the one hand he assumes that “striving for understanding is the first and only foundation of virtue” (E4 P26D). On the other hand, he deems that understanding is also not something that moves us, but rather something that “[t]he mind rejoices in” (1/4). The mind senses this joy of incorruptible contemplation regardless of the kinds of contemplated affects (1/4), however, and likely in other objects. Meanwhile it does not justify their appraisal94 as a preferable object of research. Even if Spinoza puts forth “a theoretical plea”95 rather than any actual normative justification, why does he nevertheless describe democracy and the grounds and requirements for its stability most preferably, indeed knowing that history, and in some respects exceedingly, has shown its fragility and instability? Perhaps what is revealed here96 is the extent to which attitudes [Einstellungen ff.] that precede97 theoretical-descriptive social science can shape this science and its knowledge. Spinoza presumably pursues the theoretical contemplation of the world “with practical intent”,98 even if this may be limited to the desire to reach “a transformed understanding of politics”.99 This does not speak against its scientific quality. Not only can such attitudes be motivated100 by reason, for example, by the insight that a democracy accumulates a great deal of societal power to act, thus making participation in a democracy possible,101 and that the solution to core problems can lead to the optimization of the connection between society and state by allowing individual urges and concepts of action to be coordinated and stabilized in a dynamic process. Attitudes preceding scientific research can additionally point towards 92 93 94 95 96

Geismann 1989, p. 406f. Bartuschat 1993, pp. 59–78, here p. 59. Geismann 1980, p. 413. Geismann 1999, p. 1393. Cf. 5/7: “I’m the more inclined to believe this about that very prudent man because it’s clear he was on the side of freedom”. 97 It is not discounted that its justification occasionally in the framework of a circle of “reflexive self-justification” (Habermas 1976, p. 214) “also supports or weakens attitudes by means of arguments, which for their part, are only found within the sphere of these attitudes” (ibid.). 98 Geismann 1989, p. 413. 99 Bartuschat 1999, p. 70 (emphasis in original). 100 Habermas 1976, p. 212, speaks of the possibility of a “relation of rational motivation” to attitudes. 101 I owe these thoughts to the guidance of Manfred Walther.

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a particularly responsible scientific praxis. An orientation of its teaching, which is also practical, justifies another102 possible connection to the normative discourse of political philosophy. However, before all else Spinoza un­folded the elements of tension in his system. In the end, the statement of practical intent would say nothing as to whether or not, from today’s perspective, there are better empirical grounds for the stability of a functioning democracy than for its autocratic alternatives. Spinoza already recognized an astonishing number of these reasons, while some non-monarchic-autocratic possibilities for bringing about necessary decisions and dealing effectively and sustainably with conflicts were not yet known to him. If one were to agree, a descriptive research concept based upon the foundations laid by Spinoza would be realizable to a greater extent than in his time – and this would promise fruitful work. Bibliography Arendt, Hannah (1963): On Revolution. Third Printing. New York. Aristotle (2013): Politics. Translated and with an introduction, notes, and glossary by Carnes Lord. Second edition. Chicago. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (1993): Theorie und Praxis in Spinozas Ethik und Politik. In: Studia Spinozana 9, pp. 59–78. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2001): Moralität bei Spinoza. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 23–45. Bartuschat, Wolfgang (2010): Introduction. In: Baruch de Spinoza: Politischer Traktat. Lateinisch–deutsch. Neu übersetzt und hrsg. von Wolfgang Bartuschat. 2. Aufl. Hamburg, pp. VII–LII. Battisti, Guiseppa S. (1977): Democracy in Spinoza’s Unfinished Tractatus Politicus. In: Journal of the History of Ideas 38, pp. 623–634. Bielefeldt, Heiner (2007): Menschenrechte in der Einwanderungsgesellschaft. Plädoyer für einen aufgeklärten Multikulturalismus. Bielefeld. Böckenförde, Ernst-Wolfgang (2004): Demokratie als Verfassungsprinzip. In: ­Isensee, Josef/Kirchhof, Paul (eds.): Handbuch des Staatsrechts der Bundesrepublik Deutschland. vol. II. 3. ed. Heidelberg, § 24, pp. 429–496. Böckerstette, Heinrich (1982): Aporien der Freiheit und ihre Aufklärung durch Kant. Stuttgart-Bad Cannstatt. Campagna, Norbert (2001): Salus populi suprema lex esto – Spinoza und das Problem der politischen Verantwortung. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 157–168. 102 Cf. Geismann 1999, pp. 1381–1402.

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Curley, Edwin (1996): Kissinger, Spinoza, and Genghis Khan. In: Garrett, Don (ed.): The Cambridge Companion to Spinoza. Cambridge, pp. 315–342. de Vries, Theun (1964): Spinoza als politischer Denker. In: Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie 12, pp. 1312–1327. Geismann, Georg (1989): Spinoza jenseits von Hobbes und Rousseau. In: Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung 43, pp. 405–431. Geismann, Georg (1999): Zur Inkommensurabilität der politischen Philosophie von Spinoza und Kant. In: Zeitschrift für Politikwissenschaft 9, pp. 1381–1402. Goldstein, Rebecca Newberger (2006a): Betraying Spinoza: The Renegade Jew Who Gave Us Modernity. New York. Goldstein, Rebecca Newberger (2006b): Reasonable Doubt. In: New York Times from 29.7.2006: http://www.nytimes.com/2006/07/29/opinion/29goldstein.html [retrieved August 19, 2018]. Grunert, Frank (2006): Paternalismus in der politischen Theorie der deutschen Aufklärung. Das Beispiel Christian Wolff. In: Anderheiden, Michael et al. (eds.): Paternalismus und Recht. Tübingen, pp. 9–27. Habermas, Jürgen (1976): A Positivistically Bisected Rationalism. In: Adorno, Theodor W. et al. (eds.): The Positivist Dispute in German Sociology, Translated by Glyn Adey and David Frisby, London, pp. 198–225. Habermas, Jürgen (1997): Die Einbeziehung des Anderen. 2nd edition. Frankfurt a. M. Heller, Hermann (1992): Staatslehre. In: Id.: Gesammelte Schriften. Band 3. 2nd edition Tübingen, pp. 77–406. Höffe, Otfried (2006): Kant’s Cosmopolitan Theory of Law and Peace, Translated by Alexandra Newton. Cambridge et al. Humboldt, Wilhelm von (1995): Ideen zu einem Versuch, die Grenzen der Wirksamkeit des Staates zu bestimmen (1851). Stuttgart. Jefferson, Thomas (1939): On Democracy. Ed. by S.K. Padover. New York. Jefferson, Thomas (1989): Notes on the State of Virginia (1800). In: Id.: Works. 19. repr. New York, pp. 123–325. Kant, Immanuel (1932): Perpetual Peace. Prefaced by Nicholas Murray Butler. Los Angeles, California. Kant, Immanuel (2009): Religion within the Bounds of Bare Reason. Translated by Werner S. Pluhar. Indianapolis. Keil, Rainer (2006): Kants Demokratieverständnis und Ausländerwahlrechte heute. Baden-Baden. Keil, Rainer (2013): Recht und demokratische Tugend. Uralte und jüngere Gesichtspunkte, Abgründe und rechtspolitische Anregungen für Staat und Europa. In: Anderheiden, Michael et al. (eds.): Verfassungsvoraussetzungen. Gedächtnisschrift für Winfried Brugger. Tübingen, pp. 161–181.

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Kelsen, Hans (1981): Vom Wesen und Wert der Demokratie. 2nd New Pressing of the 2nd edition (Tübingen 1929). Aalen. Kierkegaard, Søren (1987): Philosophical Fragments. Kierkegaard’s Writings, Volume VII. Edited and Translated with Introduction and Notes by Howard V. Hong and Edna H. Hong, Second printing, with corrections, Princeton, New Jersey (cited from e-book). Koskenniemi, Martti (2004): Global Governance and Public International Law. In: Kritische Justiz 37, pp. 241–254. Machiavelli, Niccolò (1986): Der Fürst. Translated into German by Ernst Merian-­ Genast. Stuttgart. Machiavelli, Niccolò (2006): The Prince Translated by W. K. Marriott. West Valley City. Machiavelli, Niccolò (2000): Discorsi sopra la prima Deca di Tito Livio. edited by Horst Günther. Frankfurt a. M. Madison, James/Hamilton, Alexander/Jay, John (1987): The Federalist Papers. Edited by Isaac Kramnick. New York. Matheron, Alexandre (1985a): Etat et moralité selon Spinoza. In: Giancotti, Emilia (ed.): Spinoza nel 350° anniversario della nascita. Napoli, pp. 341–354. Matheron, Alexandre (1985b): La fonction théoretique de la démocratie chez Spinoza et Hobbes. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 159–273. Maus, Ingeborg (1994): Zur Aufklärung der Demokratietheorie. Frankfurt a. M. Mill, John Stuart (1991): Considerations on Representative Government. In: Id.: On Liberty and Other Essays. Oxford. Montesquieu, Charles-Louis de Secondat de (1989): The Spirit of the Laws. Translated and edited by Anne M. Cohler, Basia C. Miller and Harald S. Stone, Cambridge. Moreau, Pierre-François (1985): La notion d’imperium dans le Traité Politique. In: Giancotti, Emilia (ed.): Spinoza nel 350° anniversario della nascita. Napoli, pp. 355–366. Nadler, Steven (2011): A Book Forged in Hell. Spinoza’s Scandalous Treatise and the Birth of the Secular Age. Princeton. Negri, Antonio (2004): Subversive Spinoza. Translated and edited by Timothy S. Murphy. Manchester et al. Plato (1997): Complete Works. Edited by John M. Cooper. Indianapolis. Quaritsch, Helmut (1980): Diskussionsbeitrag. In: Ständige Deputation des Deutschen Juristentages (ed.): Verhandlungen des dreiundfünfzigsten Deutschen Juristentages. Volume II (Sitzungsberichte). München, p. L 136 ff. Ramond, Charles (1999): Le vocabulaire de Spinoza. Paris. Schloss, Dietmar (2003): Die tugendhafte Republik. Politische Ideologie und Literatur in der amerikanischen Gründerzeit. Heidelberg.

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Schmid, Carlo (1989): Einleitung. In: Robespierre, Maximilien: Ausgewählte Schriften. Übersetzt von Manfred Unruh. 2nd edition Hamburg, pp. 9–36. Schmidt, Manfred G. (2010): Demokratietheorien. 5th edition Wiesbaden. Steinberg, Justin (2013): Spinozaʼs Political Philosophy. The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Edited by Edward N. Zalta. http://plato.stanford.edu/archives/win2013/ entries/spinoza-political/. [retrieved August 16, 2018] Stourzh, Gerald (1965): Die tugendhafte Republik. Montesquieus Begriff »vertu« und die Anfänge der Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika. In: Institut für österreichische Geschichtsforschung und Wiener Katholische Akademie (eds.): Österreich und Europa. Festgabe für Hugo Hantsch zum 70. Geburtstag. Graz et al., pp. 247–267. Tocqueville, Alexis de (1948): Democracy in America. Volume I. Edited by Phillips Bradley. New York, fourth printing. Viellechner, Lars (2007): Können Netzwerke die Demokratie ersetzen? In: Boysen, Sigrid et al. (eds.): Netzwerke. 47. Assistententagung Öffentliches Recht 2007. BadenBaden, pp. 36–57. Walther, Manfred (1985a): Spinoza und der Rechtspositivismus. In: Giancotti, Emilia (editor): Spinoza nel 350° anniversario della nascita. Napoli, pp. 401–418. Walther, Manfred (1985b): Die Transformation des Naturrechts in der Rechtsphilosophie Spinozas. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 73–104. Walther, Manfred (1990): Negri On Spinoza’s Political and Legal Philosophy. In: Curley, Edwin/Moreau, Pierre-François (eds.): Spinoza: Issues and Directions. Leiden et al., pp. 286–297. Walther, Manfred (2001): Politische und ethische Freiheit oder Spinozas Dialektik der Freiheit. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 89–103.

The Political Treatise in Present Discussion Tilman Reitz I

The Power of the Multitude and the Prospects of Left Spinozism

It is increasingly inadequate to characterize “Spinoza’s political philosophy” as being of “unknown importance in present day thinking”.1 That Spinoza has been stylized as the true origin of the enlightenment2 may be mostly due to his critique of religion and largely remains a matter of historiography. Yet, at the latest since the success of Negri and Hardt’s3 Spinozist-Marxist theory of globalization, a rising number of publications highlight the current relevance of his conception of democratic power. American and German voices are joining the long-established and lively reception in France and Italy. At the same time, theoretical contexts and attempts at synthesis are extending. In addition to Machiavelli, Marx, and Nietzsche, modern political thinkers from Arendt to Schmitt, classical social scientists such as Simmel and Durkheim, and even Gabriel Tarde have become possible interlocutors. As has been frequently remarked, Spinoza thus becomes a point of crystallization for various attempts to attack the liberal mainstream in contemporary political thinking.4 Two limitations nevertheless remain effective: the extended Spinoza-­ community has not yet been able to achieve recognition in mainstream ­debates in political theory, and they preferably gear their critique of liberalism towards emancipation rather than, for example, conservative or elitist projects. There is therefore some justification to call the context in which Spinoza’s Political Treatise (TP) is given a renewed reading Left-Spinozism. Before particular alignments are discussed, it is first necessary to briefly relate this situation to Spinoza himself and the place of the Treatise in his work. The political orientation of recent Spinoza-reception is not arbitrary. Since the publication of the Theological-Political Treatise (ttp), with its critique of religious ideology, its plea for the freedom of thought and speech, and its endorsement of democracy as the sole, absolute form of governance, Spinoza stands on the “left” margin of the intellectual spectrum. As will be seen, a mixture of subversive and pre-bourgeois idiosyncrasies allows this position to be 1 2 3 4

Hindrichs 2006, p. 7. Cf. Israel 2001. Cf. Negri/Hardt 2001, 2004, 2009. As examples, see Celikates 2006; Spector 2007, p. 27; Saar 2011, p. 647.

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reinforced. And probably more than himself, Spinoza’s social-intellectual milieu was defined by anti-religious, democratic, and egalitarian impulses.5 As a result, Spinozism became not only an important party to the enlightenment, but also a denunciatory term for opposing parties. The long line condemning Spinoza and Spinozism is an object of research in its own right. However, the label “left Spinozism” is not simply redundant. On the one hand Spinoza affirmed hierarchies to control those leading an irrational life, and privileges that stabilize social order. In this sense he was long held pre-eminently as a follower of Hobbes. On the other hand, the leeway created by historical distance allows for various and differing re-appropriations. In general, many “realistic” theories of politics could tap into Spinoza’s calculations of power. Specific starting points for a Schmittian reception remain to be discussed. In recent debates, the civic humanism or “republicanism”, which like Spinoza inquires into practical virtues or the good as a complement to the mere forms of right and state, would be a possible partner.6 The Political Treatise in particular would accommodate the possible, but marginal non-left readings of Spinoza. In it monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy (with some exceptions) count as equivalent alternatives. That the chapter on the latter (which is preferred in places) remained unfinished has been attributed by many commentators to systematic problems. Moreover, the arguments developed in the ttp criticizing religion and ideology are generally lacking. Finally, the Ethics’ prospect of a co-existence without conflict of interests is not a theme. All in all, “liberation” from existing rule does not appear to be the goal: as, in the first chapters of the Political Treatise, Spinoza tries to think the notion of historical experience, the aim is to say that it has already made us see all possible forms of government, and not to appeal to the creation of some institutional innovation.7 Even Spinoza’s Marxist proponents admit that “his political philosophy [has] a cautious, conservative bent”.8 How and how well the Political Treatise could nevertheless be interpreted in a left-Spinozist manner is to be seen in the following. A major role is played here by the persistently attractive power of the (free) multitude, the potentia multitudinis, from which all political forms 5 Cf. Israel 2001, pp. 175–217. 6 Cf. Blom 1985, originating from Skinner and Pocock; for a leftist variant, Celikates 2006; for a critique of elitism in Skinner and Pettit, Celikates 2010. 7 Moreau 2007, p. 293. 8 Reitter 2011, p. 466.

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emerge. This figure allows or promises to rethink even the calculations and institutions of socio-political domination in a “democratic” way and thereby go far beyond the established democracy. An example can show why right-Spinozist positions are comparably marginal. In an attempt to approach Spinoza from the then flourishing Cambridge School, Hans Blom comes to speak of virtues that, for the republican tradition, must be practiced in a commonwealth which is truly free and not merely liberal. However, he does not find rightful grounds for this. If he initially wishes to avoid forcing “the Machiavellian idea of the civic virtues”9 on Spinoza, he works out as a consequence the possibility of binding virtue in Spinoza to “one’s own self-interest” and simultaneously conceiving of this as a “moral status”.10 Finally, he summarizes that the political or “civic virtues” nevertheless make up part of the virtues demanded by a viable “political system”.11 It is noteworthy what Blom leaves out. Spinoza describes precisely the situation that Pocock has termed the Machiavellian moment, a situation in which virtues become necessary because the state’s citizens have become addicted to luxury. They concern themselves only with their private wealth and not the public well-being (10/4). Spinoza seeks a remedy, yet his solution is not easily citable for republicans. As a candid theorist, he locates the cognitive distinction constituting the practice of virtue in the context of the aristocracy and not in republican “freedom”. Most importantly, however, he handles the potential subjects of virtue with cool functionalism. To engage them, one must combine the desire for gain or avarice (avaritiae affectus) with the desire for glory (gloriae cupidis) (10/6). The necessary virtue is thus created from classic vices12 and even the final warning against allowing fear or superficial honorific titles to govern is a manipulative maxim: “Men must be so led that they seem to themselves not to be led (non duci […] videantur), but to live according to their own mentality and from their free decision” (10/8). One who words things in this way cannot provide models for the best sort of rule or civic engagement. To put it generally, Spinoza avoids ethical appeals as well as justifications of political order and subordination. This makes him, with all due caution, unfit for conservative thinking. It is to be expected that he cannot be easily coopted by the other side either. The following will present four political-theoretical contexts in which ­Spinoza 9 10 11 12

Blom 1985, p. 222. Blom 1985, p. 223. Blom 1985, p. 224. One can reasonably think here of Mandeville. His “Fable of the Bees” (1714/1723) often argues in a Spinozist manner, albeit with an intensified cynicism. For a synopsis see Den Uyl 1987.

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is commonly discussed today: Marxism, Post-structuralism, the History of Enlightenment, and a non-authoritarian “realism”.13 The traditions to be discussed in this order are intersecting. The strongest lines of present day, political Spinoza-reception come from Louis Althusser and Gilles Deleuze. One can be roughly designated as structuralist-Marxist and the other with a longer, yet fitting title as “postmodern left-Nietzscheanism”.14 Negri and Hardt are allied to both traditions. Yet they bring something new to the first, an impulse stemming from the activist legacy of the 1970s and, regarding the second, are near to the theories of “radical democracy” that reformulated post-structuralist motives politically. This development will be presented and discussed in the two following sections. A brief presentation is then dedicated to the massive individual project of Jonathan Israel and the discussion of the “radical enlightenment”. The last section covers differing approaches portraying Spinoza as a non-authoritarian realistic political theorist, particularly by way of Etienne Balibar’s post-Marxist analyses and in contrast to Schmitt. To the extent that it is possible, I work out the respective justifications of these lines of receptions, allowing them to have their say and then discuss their problems. In conclusion, I bring the results together with a suggestion as to how the lines drawn by the left-Spinozist tradition itself can be carried forward, in particular the popular, but difficult line Machiavelli-Spinoza-Marx. II

Structuralist Marxism and (Post-)Operaism

Marxist authors have been able to utilize Spinoza for a whole series of concerns: for a consequent break with the view that human affairs are governed by ideas; for an expanded concept of the productive forces that continuously go beyond given relations of production; finally, in general, for the perspective of emancipation as a collective endeavor. For a long time the focus was on epistemology, where Althusser sought resources for his structuralist (or “anti-humanist”) reading of Marx. His project to grasp history in a consistent manner as a process without origin, subject, or goal, can, when one wishes, be closely linked with remarks from the Ethics in which Spinoza emphatically integrates human objectives in a natural causal order. The Political Treatise already pursues this thread in the first paragraphs 13 14

Other contexts of discussion, which for me seem less fruitful to the Political Treatise, are excluded – particularly the feminist discussions (cf. for literature Saar 2006, p. 199), but also those on Spinoza’s relevance in social science. Cf. Rehmann 2004.

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which insist upon analyzing the interactions of affects as natural processes (1/1 and 1/4).15 Althusser himself did not make use of such texts in any recognizable way. He speaks of Spinoza only abruptly and often in hindsight. The strongest theses from his texts of the 1960s and 70s state that Spinoza had developed the first true theory of ideology16 and that the greatness of his theoretical revolution is to be measured only by the vehemence of his condemnation.17 The possible consequences of Althusser’s reading of Spinoza can be taken from the books of his students Pierre Macherey (1977) and Étienne Balibar (1998) along with the closely related Pierre-François Moreau (1975). The arguments of interest here are those that can be directly referred to the Political Treatise and further influence the discussion. Anti-teleological and anti-subjectivist principles are also prominent in these texts. Proceeding from Althusser – and oriented by his late, “aleatory materialism” – Vittorio Morfino made it plausible that Spinoza, like Machiavelli and the young Marx, attends to the ancient Atomists. Common to all of them would be a theory that prefers complex to linear connections, relations to substances, and encounter to form.18 In politics, this means to not give credit to individual power for effects that are in truth dependent upon a set of changing conditions. Thus, the basic concept of the text, multitude, may be understood as follows: Political theory is an intervention in a conjuncture, in an horizon which is dominated by a plural temporality. […] On the level of politics, this plural temporality finds its name: multitude.19 What seems more important are the practical judgments which follow from moving from individual intentions to interactions in the multitude. Warren Montag describes the effect as follows: Liberal theory, from Hobbes on, asks us to judge a society, its state, as well as the free interactions between equal individuals, such as worker and employer, […] by the individual acts of will that are origins of such relations. No matter how oppressive or unequal a relation may be, if this relation 15 16 17 18 19

Cf. the contribution of Kirste and Walther to this volume. Cf. Oittinen 1994, pp. 19–90. Montag 1999, p. xiii. The original French reads: “la thèse du primat de la connexio sur la series, la thèse du primat de la relations sur la substance, la thèse du primat de la rencontre sur la forme” (Morfino 2010, p. 12). Morfino 2010, p. 235.

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has its origin in the consent, free and self-interested, of individuals, it may be said to possess absolute legitimacy. By translating consciousness into behaviour and practice, Althusser, in contrast, makes it disappear into its effects like Spinoza’s God, leaving us with […] a purely material world of force against force […]. Consciousness can no longer explain or justify anything, it appears, if at all, as the supplement, retroactively projected upon a relation of domination to authenticate it.20 If one brackets the words “purely material”, the passage could be related not only to Althusser but also Spinoza. Naturally the latter does not criticize the assumption of free exchange in the work contract, but he supplies the theoretical means to do so. And that Spinoza moves on from the Hobbesian contract in the Political Treatise counts among the common places of research. Alexandre Matheron has grasped Spinoza’s alternative as an analysis of relations of force (rapports de force). The right of individuals is not transferred to the government once and for all. It is instead a matter of power over the acting of the governed which is to be constantly renewed.21 It is therefore always factually the “power of the multitude”22 that supplies directives and laws with weight or validity. It is from precisely this point that two forms of Marxist readings of Spinoza ensue. The conceptual innovation that the state is confronted by a society (or that the latter is grasped as its framework), including the fact that this society could in turn be repoliticized, was already decisive for Marx. One of the Marxist currents emphasizing this is Italian Operaism. For its proponents, the praxis and struggles of the workers essentially define if and how capitalist profit can be generated. To illustrate this, one can use the early modern theories which precede23 the differentiation between state and society. As for Spinoza power always remains with the multitude of those governed (even if not with the 20 21 22 23

Montag 1999, p. xx. “Celui qui en bénéficie, aussi longtemps qu’il en bénéficie (mais pas plus longtemps), a à sa disposition une puissance assez grande pour inspirer crainte et espoir à chacun des membres du group pris individuellement” (Matheron 1985, p. 269). Matheron 1985, p. 270. One could also address the early Marx. In the critique of Hegel’s philosophy of right, he sets a democracy gathering all sectors of life and no longer solidified as a “form of state” in opposition to the representative system or “republic”. His argumentation reads like a radicalization of Spinoza (expressed by a young Hegelian): “Democracy is the solved riddle of all constitutions. Here, not merely implicitly and in essence but existing in reality, the constitution is constantly brought back to its actual basis, the actual human being, the actual people, and established as the people’s own work” (Marx 2010, p. 31). For a comparison, see Saar 2013, pp. 387–391.

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individual subjects), for Operaists production always lies in the hands of the workers. In his first Spinoza book (1981), Negri advocates these theses and situates them historically. For him Spinoza marks the point at which bourgeois forces of production take shape without yet being subjected to the alienated relations of production in modernity. To return to such a point became even more plausible to the extent that cognitive, emotional, and social forces of production have gained importance, forces which can be supposed to effectively remain under the control of the producers in the new service work of the information society. This theory has been proposed by “Post-Operaism” and its Spinozist version is formulated by Negri along with Hardt in Empire (2001), Multitude (2004), and Commonwealth (2009). Unlike Althusser Negri does not refrain from deliberations on Spinoza. He rather uses a eulogizing style that sometimes obscures his arguments. In his co-authored work with Hardt the connections between postindustrial production and Spinozian power only gradually become clear. In the first two books one must still piece together24 passages with key words like “affective labor”, “power/potential to act”, and even multitude. In the third book, analyses of the present link directly to Spinoza. Just as, for example, the rulers of an urban aristocracy always fear the multitude which is barred from deciding and due to the same cause cannot be fully controlled (8/4), the present global aristocracy is threatened by the excluded and exploited masses: “The multitude of the poor […] and the biopolitical productive forces […] are all increasingly autonomous and exceed the forms of measure and control that have previously contained them”.25 The texts on Spinoza’s political philosophy that Negri has published since the 1980s offer more precise readings, albeit the contemporary relevance remains vague. At the center are general theses such as the claim that Spinoza, unlike mainstream political philosophy, did not demand alienation,26 and that he did not pursue political institutions separated from the rest of society: The destruction of any autonomy of the political and the a­ ffirmation of the autonomy of the collective needs of the masses, beyond all ­utopianism – such is the extraordinary modernity of Spinoza’s political constitution of reality.27

24 25 26 27

Cf. Saar 2006, pp. 190–196; Reitz 2005, p. 154f. Negri/Hardt 2009, p. 279. Cf. Reitz 2005, p. 247f. Negri 2004, p. 19.

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Negri’s more recent texts on the current relevance of Spinoza have appended further titles to these motives, from “postmodern” to “biopolitical”.28 In the light of these texts, the difference between state and society appears to be both anticipated and transcended by Spinoza’s “materialist and biopolitical awareness […] that the social is political, that interindividual relations are […] immediately brought back to the common”.29 Less charged Marxist readings of Spinoza have also increased in recent years. As mentioned, Karl Reitter emphasizes the conservative bent of the Political Treatise. He does not share Negri’s enthusiasm and rejects Althusser’s anti-humanism. He nevertheless sees in Spinoza two general “axes of emancipation” which would concern Marx specifically: the power or capacity to act and autonomy. The relationship is particularly clear with the first case. “The productive force of labor represents a partial form of the ability to act. […] Marx and Spinoza both investigate the conditions under which productive force or the capacity to act increases or falls”.30 This connection is developed primarily from the Ethics but also finds points of reference in the Political Treatise. Thus Reitter emphasizes that the principle of ownership, generally central to natural right, only plays a secondary role here: Spinoza determines the question of the form of ownership through an appeal to anticipated interests and the actions resulting from them […] This method differentiates itself fundamentally from the identification of property as the first condition of freedom.31 Reitter’s findings remain ambivalent. A political theory that does not yet know the antithesis of state-society and the class antagonism between the bourgeoisie and workers is, in his view, only partially suited to deal with problems of the present.32 Frédéric Lordon proceeds less hesitantly. He sees the (political) power to act and the controllability of the multitude as a general model for economic cooperation and exploitation: Employees are under the rule of the enterprise and its commands the way citizens are under the rule of the state and its laws. How people remain loyal to a sovereign entity and to its norms is a question of political 28 29 30 31 32

For example, cf. Negri 2010, p. 134. Negri 2010, p. 141. Reitter 2011, p. 14. Reitter 2011, p. 454; referring to TP 10/8. Cf. Reitter 2011, p. 471f.

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philosophy; through what combination of desires and affects they do so is a question of Spinozist political philosophy.33 From here one could easily transition to the problems or critique of Marxist and near-Marxist readings of Spinoza. A general weak point is certainly the heavily stressed analogy between state-political and socio-economic relations of power or the “narrowing of political, economic, and ontological theses”.34 One can abstractly say that the development of forces of production represents a specific increase in power to act. Yet as soon as one wants to comprehend these forces concretely and wishes to free them from capitalist shackles, little to no guidance is to be found in the Political Treatise. In particular, “the ‘autonomist’ idea invoked by Hardt and Negri – that there could be projects, resistance, and politics of the multitude beyond their role as constitutive people – is foreign to Spinoza’s political thinking”.35 Nevertheless, the inventive coupling of ideas from the Ethics and Political Treatise under the sign of common power to act is of course not per se illegitimate. It even seems necessary if one takes the traditionalist aspect of the latter seriously. While Spinoza’s ontology can be read as reflecting new forces of production, Marxist interpretations of the Treatise have the additional problem that Spinoza handles economical developments less intensely than Hobbes and Locke, who employ work and property as central concepts. Montag, following Negri, has sketched the most elegant near-Marxist way to evaluate this. In his analysis, Spinoza carefully read the Roman historians and thereby developed a differentiated vocabulary36 for the “different modalities of collective existence”, such as “populus, plebs, vulgus, turba, multitude”.37 Spinoza therefore continues using figures of thought that have been disposed of by modern natural right. In fact, the liberal philosophies of his time tended to reduce […] precisely the complexities that interested the Roman historians to one of two schematic oppositions: the individual and the state (or sovereign) and the people and the state (thereby collapsing all mass movements into ‘the people’). It is precisely this operation of reduction and abstraction, the forsaking of real history for mythical origins and constitutional 33 34 35 36 37

Lordon 2014, p. 60. Saar 2006, p. 193. Saar 2006, p. 194. Montag 1999, p. 75. Montag 1999, p. 76; cf. paragraph 5.

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moments, for elaborate systems of rights and obligations that rest on no other foundation than that they constitute what ought to be, that led Spinoza to denounce philosophy with such vehemence at the beginning of the Tractatus Politicus.38 The continuation of pre-bourgeois thinking can thus be conceived as a precursor to later political sociology and perhaps even as an anti-bourgeois avant-garde. A further problem arises when one thinks through future possibilities as to how the free multitude of the Political Treatise can increase its productive power to act according to the paradigm of the Ethics. In this endeavor, it becomes hard to differentiate the Marxist-Spinozist vision from the self-interpretation of new capitalism.39 What was ideologically indecent in the 17th and 18th centuries, today charges an open door. There is hardly a party which does not claim to democratically integrate all forces available into a thriving knowledge economy. This problem can be managed in different ways. On the one hand one can assume that Spinoza’s approach only culminates with the fifth book of the Ethics where commons or “common property” is desired and created such that its consumption through Paul does not occasion negative affects for Peter. On the other hand one could, proceeding from the ttp, analyze how alien-dominated cognitive and affective producers are brought to love their servitude as their freedom. In doing so, Lordon draws from the already cited statement of the Political Treatise: Men are to be led in such a way that they believe they lead themselves. We can easily recognise in this maxim of political prudence the very aim of the neoliberal enterprise, another way of reminding us that the enterprise, being a gathering of powers of acting, falls fundamentally within the scope of political philosophy.40 One can also attempt to combine both and relate Spinoza’s critique of the affects which emerge from competition and limit individuals’ power to act to the actual organization of the multitude in cognitive-emotional capitalism.41 In all of these cases, however, one must argue with Spinoza against Spinoza – more precisely, against the realism of the Political Treatise. 38 39 40 41

Montag 1999, p. 75. Cf. Reitz 2005, p. 155. Lordon 2014, p. 94. Reitz 2005, p. 156.

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In this field, two strategies appear unfortunate. On the one hand, it is difficult to provide Spinoza’s “sociology of affects”42 with a utopian charge, because where Spinoza analyzes the interactions of affects in the commonwealth, he does not paint “democracy” as “act of love”,43 instead drawing anti-utopian consequences. On the other hand, it does not get one far to simply subscribe to such conclusions. Lordon shows how this might look when he enshrines the rule of the passions described in the fourth book of the Ethics: The end of the social relations of capitalism does not mean the end of our passionate servitude. It does not by itself free us from the disorderly violence of desire and the efforts of power. It is perhaps on this precise point that the Spinozist realism of the passions is most useful to the Marxian utopia: as a sobering up. The extinction of politics by the final dissolution of classes and the conflict between them […] are post-political phantasmagoria, perhaps Marx’s deepest anthropological error.44 These sentences not only unnecessarily constrict the Marxist horizon of emancipation by deriving social conflict from the nature of humans. They rescind the experimental stance toward the affects that makes Spinoza interesting for the left in the first place. At least this is the view of the poststructuralist and radical democratic reception that is now to be traced. III

Post-structuralism and Radical Democracy

This line of reception can be loosely tied to a figure that could be labeled as Spinoza’s normative and ontological anarchism or polyarchism: When the right of men and their associations aligns itself with their power (to act), everything is permitted to the organized multitude. Because at the same time not every form of association works and there is much that reduces the collective power to act, the Political Treatise can be used to establish the best balance of power in each of the classic forms of state. One can also move towards more extreme domination or more open political association. The first was done famously by Nietzsche, the second by Spinoza’s post-structuralist and radical democratic readers, tapping undercurrents of Spinoza and Nietzsche. The resulting scenario

42 43 44

Cf. Negri 2010. Negri 2010, p. 141. Lordon 2014, p. 159.

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is a motley, steadfast manifold of power relations that are constantly undermining social order. Deleuze, who most fully represents the Spinoza-Nietzsche connection, already sees these relations within the human individual. Unlike Althusser, Deleuze authored two close studies of Spinoza which, though they have not formed schools of thought, continue to exert influence. The first, longer work is dedicated predominately to ontology and epistemology. It does, however, also provide socio-theoretical suggestions by conceiving (anti-teleologically like Morfino who emphasizes Spinoza’s assimilation of the Atomists) power to act and the pursuit of self-preservation or augmentation from the “encounter”, the “composition” and “combinations of relations” of bodies.45 This allows to think a continuum between physical, human, and social units of effect in which the “subject” only appears as “crossing point of dynamic and affective forces, […] as effect and as multiplicity of ‘sub-individual’ forces”.46 In his small book on Spinoza’s practical thinking, Deleuze concludes: “There is no longer a subject, but only individuating affective states of an anonymous force”.47 And it allows a differentiation of “good” and “bad”, which, similar to Nietzsche, replaces “good” and “evil”. A non-moral good is one which joyfully increases the powers to act through social organization: A man who is to become reasonable, strong, and free, begins by doing all in his power to experience joyful passions. He then strives to extricate himself from chance encounters and the concatenation of sad passions, to organize good encounters, combine his relation with other relations […], and form a reasonable association between men.48 Differences with the Marxist line of interpretation lie in Deleuze associating the power to act less with productive force as with “intensity”, emphasizing joy or pleasure, and also finding interest in sensation or the “power of suffering”.49 However, in the case of Deleuze it also remains unclear how one can transfer the “ethical” love of experimentation to Spinoza’s political theory. Both of the best prospective answers can be tied to the principle in the Political Treatise stating that the right of the state (imperii) or supreme power (summarum postestatum) is nothing other than the right of nature as it determines 45 46 47 48 49

Deleuze 1990, p. 237. Saar 2006, p. 185. Deleuze 1988, p. 128. Deleuze 1990, p. 262. Deleuze 1990, pp. 222–224.

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the power of the multitude guided, as it were, by one mind (3/2).50 Because the right of the state body (totius imperii corpus, et mens) is also mentioned, discussions of this passage focus on whether Spinoza understands the commonwealth in “organistic” fashion as a whole or “methodologically individualist” as a merger of individuals (see below, Section 5). If one concentrates rather on the core concepts imperium, potestas, potentia, and multitudo, a different, less exclusive alternative becomes visible. One can extract from the passage the multiplicity of power relations teeming beneath every ruling institution, or one can highlight the complex, supra-individual condition in which we always already live as social and political entities. The first approach, already introduced in the Marxist context, allows collective self-determination to be conceived without “reified respect for the procedures of formal representation”: “it allows above all to theorize a ‘radical democracy’, meaning that every form of institutional power is only an appropriation of the power proper to the multitude”.51 And once again, one must not limit oneself to political institutions. Deleuze and Guattari formulated this without referring to Spinoza, but in a considerably far-reaching manner: “In short, everything is political, but every politics is simultaneously a macropolitics and a micropolitics”.52 Negri and Hardt, for whom the multitude itself is the all-comprising collective entity, emphasize the second, “macropolitical” dimension of Spinoza’s principle in a Deleuzian formulation: Encounters result either in decomposition in smaller bodies or in a composition into a new, larger body. In Spinoza’s politics the multitude is a similarly mixed, complex body […]. The multitude is a complex body in the sense that it is open to encounters with all other bodies, and its political life depends on the qualities of these encounters, whether they are joyful and compose more powerful bodies or whether they are sad and decompose into less powerful ones.53 Among other things, this perspective has the merit of “radical inclusiveness”54 in thwarting the exclusions typical of institutions. Even when these institutions make arrangements to keep the subaltern below or outside, the subaltern play a factual role. 50 51 52 53 54

Cf. the contribution of Lembcke in this volume. Citton/Lordon 2008, p. 28. Deleuze/Guatarri 1987, p. 287. Negri/Hardt 2009, p. 43. Negri/Hardt 2009, p. 43.

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The problem of the reception outlined here remains that it finds few points of confluence with the Political Treatise’s argumentation beyond the concepts of potentia and multitudo. Constructions derived from it, such as that of a now global “aristocracy” which must reckon with the organizationally excluded (see above), are tenuous and rare. This situation suggests seeking new potential references with the help of other authors. They have been found in Spinoza’s sources, particularly Machiavelli, and in authors close to Deleuze, particularly Foucault. With one, radical democracy becomes thinkable in a Spinozist context, with the other, para-institutional politics. Machiavelli is already perceivable in the Political Treatise when philosophers remote from reality that envision men as they wish them to be (1/1)55 are contrasted with experienced politicians with questionable intentions (1/2). He is later explicitly discussed (and characterized by the word acutissimus tied to politicians in 1/3) at two points and vehemently defended at the first. His manual for men desiring dominion (the Prince) is certainly to be read as suggesting the avoidance of the conditions of tyranny and perhaps even as warning against leaving rule to a single person: “I’m the more inclined to believe this about that very prudent man because it’s clear he was on the side of freedom (quia pro libertate fuisse constat), and gave very good advice for protecting it” (5/7).56 Here Spinoza presents himself as a proponent of the republican Machiavelli, a suggestion which is also valid for his own realistic analyses. For radical democracy, however, statements from the Discorsi not directly included by Spinoza are also important. According to a passage which has been central from Claude Lefort to recent debates,57 there are two contrary attitudes (umori) in every commonwealth, that of the great and that of the people. To the benefit of freedom, all laws in Rome arose from the conflict between these two dispositions.58 Machiavelli, together with Livius, describes the means of conflict as typically irregular, from strike to secession. The “radical democratic” consequences are obvious. Polities are fissured, politics is conflict, its forms are diverse, and it is neither possible nor desirable to contain them. Who reads

55

56 57 58

The formulation allows reference to be made to Machiavelli: For this, the great distance between the way one lives and the way one should live (doverebbe vivere) presents the theorist with the choice of whether or not he wants to be concerned with the reality of his issue (verità effettuale della cosa) or its mere imagining (imaginazione) (Machiavelli 1996, xv). For the following, see also the contribution of Keil in this volume. Transl.: The author here alters the standard German translation (Bartuschat). As throughout, I have used Curley’s English translation here. Machiavelli 2000, i.v. (for the contemporary discussion, cf. Marchart 2010). Ibid.

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“Spinoza’s political theory of democracy as a conflict-theory of the political”,59 will seek these motives in him as well. The tense relation of the multitude and dominion is an appropriate point of reference: Spinoza […] asserts that the conflict between the multitude and the sovereign power – similar in some ways to Machiavelli’s theory of the humors – is not simply a remote hypothesis, but rather one of the main elements through which political existence takes form […]. Spinoza, like Machiavelli, then, posits the right to war, resistance, and conflict at the heart of political discourse.60 And beyond Machiavelli, this starting point promises to make the plural-productive basis of such conflicts thinkable: Perfection and virtue cannot be achieved by attaining unity, a prearranged end, or a transcendental model to be imitated or realized. Rather, they are already achieved in the autonomous affirmation of life – in and through the multiplicity of exchanges and relations between individuals, including conflictual ones.61 The connection is not very tenable. The passage cited by Filippo del Lucchese as evidence only states (subversively enough) that breaking the political contract also corresponds to the right of nature (4/6). In general, Spinoza sees social conflict as harmful. He “never” claims, like Machiavelli, “that conflict is the factor which makes political life healthy”,62 but maintains the opposite, that the best form of rule is the one in which men lead their lives in harmony (concorditer) (5/2). At best, it is possible to say that Spinoza moves from a “condemnation” of conflicts to a “more complex and nuanced opinion”,63 which can perhaps be described as follows: “The political collective […] constitutes itself in a permanent […] process that brings about consensus from dissensus”.64 This implies that Spinoza takes tension seriously from an analytic perspective. From a “radical-democratic” point of view, these reflections become interesting where they pertain to the always incomplete controllability of the multitude. 59 60 61 62 63 64

Celikates 2006, p. 63. Del Lucchese 2009, p. 63. Del Lucchese 2009, p. 115. Del Lucchese 2009, p. 79. Del Lucchese 2009, p. 82. Celikates 2006, p. 56.

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Following Matheron,65 Del Lucchese brings together two important pieces of evidence. On the one hand Spinoza maintains that the right of the commonwealth ends with what makes many indignant (quae plurimi indignantur) and that its power is diminished by affective alliance directed against it (3/9); on the other hand he recognizes that it is not dissolved by disputes and insurgencies (ex discordiis et seditionibus), but instead changes form, because the axes of conflict (contentiones) cannot be settled within the given (6/2). Connecting these motives replaces the Hobbesian question regarding the being or nonbeing of the state with the question of a more or less (stabilized) commonwealth, which can actually only be decided by a more or less well integrated, more or less united multitude. Spinoza even takes the demand to avenge common harm mentioned in 3/9 as a possible cause for the multitude to wish to be led as if by one mind (6/1). The origin of turmoil is thus identical here with that of the commonwealth. This does not mean that Spinoza endorses the first. He only allows for its possibility. Instead of the constant (“ethical”) enlargement of the power to act, the theme of the Political Treatise is its constant variations and reshaping. If the main point of interest is not the free multitude or the maximization of the plural power to act, one can also use the analyses outlined descriptively. An obvious author of reference is then Foucault who famously designates pouvoir neither simply as a positive capacity to act nor only as dominance, who also takes Spinoza in proximity to Nietzsche, and who even utilizes the Spinozacommentator Boulainvilliers in his late work.66 Within this horizon, Martin Saar suggests to conceive of power in as general a manner as possible. As it is with Deleuze and Foucault, power is not a mere play of authorities and opportunities of enforcement, “but rather a fundamental medium of the social, in which social relations and unions are first formed”.67 Saar initially explains what this means only with the assumption “that the allegedly smallest units of the political, like the body and the individuals/subjects, must be radically dynamized and interrogated […] from their place in the field of social forces”.68 In addition, he moves “Spinoza’s conception of governance” (or his operating in the heterogeneous field of imperare, gubernare, dirigere etc.) in proximity to Foucault, because both negotiate diverse aspects of human conduct.69 In a 65 66 67 68 69

Matheron 1994/2011. Cf. Pfauwadel/Sévérac 2008. Saar 2006, p. 198. Saar 2006, p. 199. “The possibility of governance is more than a political status and political activity, underlying it is an acquaintance with humans, a knowledge of effects and thus of foreseeable possibilities for leading men and allowing them to lead themselves” (Saar 2009, p. 439).

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monograph Saar systematizes these motives, adding references to bio-power, the collective imagination, and radical democracy. He thus maintains a broadly compatible Spinoza, who, unlike in most other theories, is definable by neither rigid institutions nor the amorphous productivity of the multitude, neither “productive” nor “repressive” power, neither a naive pathos of freedom nor a critique of ideology. This approach does not only prohibit reading Spinoza as a champion of a radical power of those at the bottom – “power” here always stands for “both an endangering and reinforcement” of collective capacity to act, “disempowerment or empowerment” of those taking part.70 Whether Spinoza is more suited to a critique or confirmation of the political arrangements presented remains generally open. Saar sees in Spinoza’s texts and in their plausible interpretations an “ambivalence” that becomes particularly clear in the sphere of governing. [W]ith Spinoza one can formulate a critical thinking of government and being-governed which springs from neither the absolute subjugation nor the absolute freedom of the political subject. It thus allows one to grasp the elusive intermediate stages […] between autonomy and heteronomy which are characteristic of political life in complex, non-totalitarian societies.71 Which concrete analyses this access makes possible remains open. However, the (suspected) radical impulses of Spinoza have again been notably weakened. IV

Radical Enlightenment

The assignment of Spinoza to the “Radical Englightenment” is not tarnished by ambivalence. It comes from a researcher who draws a clear, congruent line from 17th century Holland to the French Revolution. As mentioned, Jonathan Israel places Spinoza at the beginning of this line. He adopts the title “Radical Enlightenment” from Margaret Jacob, who discussed, in the first place, freethinking circles in England, but also the critique of religion and dominion on the continent (networked with the former). An important document of this is the “Traité des trois imposteurs” (Moses, Mohammed, Jesus) which was first published and circulated as “La vie et l’esprit de Spinoza”.72 In terms of content, 70 71 72

Saar 2013, p. 161. Saar 2013, p. 261. Cf. Jacob 2006, pp. 183–200.

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some of Jacob’s protagonists are also near to Spinoza: enthusiastic about science with an orientation ranging from pantheist to materialist, and often republican. Israel goes further. For him Spinoza is a chief radical thinker and his circle is the source of the ideas about emancipation disseminated in Europe during the 18th century (at first covertly). Analysis of Europe’s clandestine philosophical literature fully supports what all the other evidence indicates regarding intellectual origins and sources of the Radical Enlightenment. While Italian, Jewish, British, and what might be termed French indigenous sources played a substantial part around the edges, the central thrust, the main bloc of radical ideas, stems predominantly from the Dutch radical milieu, the world of Spinoza and Spinozism.73 The break with tradition accomplished there, “rejecting […] the intervention of a providential God in human affairs […], scorning all forms of ecclesiastical authority, and refusing to accept that there is any God-ordained social hierarchy”,74 is set against the “moderate” Enlightenment of Locke, Voltaire, or Hume which defines the epoch’s present image. For Israel, it is their more consistent predecessors who discovered the principles that made 1789 possible and are still valid today: For anyone who believes human societies are best ruled by reason as defined by the Radical Enlightenment, ordering modern societies on the basis of individual liberty, democracy, equality, equity, sexual freedom, and the freedom of expression and publication clearly constitutes a package of rationally validated values which not only were, but remain today […], inherently superior […] to all actual or possible alternatives.75 This has clear consequences for the strategic role of Spinoza. He remains a radical thinker, but can no longer be claimed as a representative of post- or counter-modernity. At the same time the question arises as to how the idiosyncrasies of his political theory are to occur in the history outlined. Israel relies predominately upon the ttp while nonetheless using analyses of the Political Treatise. Particularly instructive for his approach is the manner in which he integrates the motive of natural equality. In early modernity, as 73 74 75

Israel 2001, p. 694. Israel 2001, p. 11. Israel 2006, p. 869.

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one knows, this motive often comes into play – not least with Spinoza’s antipode Hobbes. Israel now uses the difference between the two regarding the state of nature to align Spinoza as an egalitarian. Where the state of nature, for Hobbes, is a dark and fearsome realm, to which no one inhabiting the securer milieu of civil society under a sovereign wishes to glance back, for the radicals, ‘natural man’ remains crucially relevant to life in civil society and became a favourite tool of […] analysis, helping to differentiate between what is superfluous, or contrary to nature, in man’s political and social environment and what is inherent in his nature.76 This argument does three things. It turns Spinoza into a leading thinker of the noble savage or unspoiled man, it gives guidelines for reading passages where equality and human nature are not directly mentioned, and it subsequently justifies the statement: “The concept of ‘equality’ rooted in ‘natural rights’ features prominently in Spinoza’s political thought”.77 Looking more closely, the suggestion comes undone in all three cases. Spinoza does not wish to view humans as separate from civilization in order to be able to judge them the way authors from Lahontan to Rousseau do. In the Political Treatise, moreover, he does not systematically distinguish between “natural”, egalitarian institutions and misguided, hierarchical ones. And unlike many early modern revolutionaries and moderate Enlightenment figures, he invokes the concept of human equality with notable infrequency. Israel subsequently qualifies a few of the points mentioned, but at the decisive point, he pushes the flight of association even further: While Rousseau’s notion of the progressive moral degeneration of mankind […] diverges markedly from Spinoza’s claim that human nature is always the same […], there remains a strong unifying thread in that, for both philosophers, the pristine equality of the state of nature is our ultimate guide and criterion […] in shaping the common good, ‘volonté générale’, or Spinoza’s mens una, which alone can ensure stability and political salvation. […] When in the depths of the French Revolution the Jacobin clubs all over France regularly deployed Rousseau when demanding radical reforms […] designed to enhance equality, they were at

76 77

Israel 2001, p. 207f. Israel 2001, p. 270.

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the same time, almost unconsciously, invoking a radical tradition which reached back to the late seventeenth century.78 If the remote revolutionary effect of Spinoza is only to be attested to with such false identification, one should give up trying. Israel’s strength is his close tracing of the networks of position and argumentation spun around and on Spinoza. In this analysis much criticism of his work is already anticipated or surpassed. Take for example the analysis of Pim den Boer, who explains of the Brothers Koerbagh, anti-authoritarians writing in Dutch (and because of this, ruined by church and state), that one can sensibly speak of a radical Enlightenment only when it uses the national language and effects the roots of popular culture.79 Israel has already presented this emphatically as an antithesis of Spinozian caution.80 And before Pierre-François Moreau’s plea to see Spinozism as a movement and designation which quickly became independent from Spinoza himself is published,81 Israel already has delivered a line of argumentation to explain this concern.82 With this strength in mind, it may be more interesting to reflect the criticism that applies without question. Israel turns Spinoza into the hero of a linear history of ideas when in reality there would be diverse and contrary intentions and cultural and (proto-) political fronts to analyze. Jacob dissociates herself from Israel’s repurposing of her concepts: “history is not simply determined by a number of major philosophers, like Jonathan Israel wants to make us believe”.83 A concrete alternative may be to locate Spinoza’s specific place in the process of the Enlightment(s). For Manfred Walther, Spinoza stands stubbornly between an amoral-scientific early Enlightenment and the moralized high Enlightenment, thus capturing a third position regarding the two main currents of the epoch.84 Counter-offers are also possible in methodological terms. Antoine Lilti has shown comprehensively how Israel abstractly links ideas and teleologically prepares his material for the project of modernity he pursues, where social and culture history has long been written. As a result, however, Lilti only presents his own favored story. He proceeds from the repressed content that Israel calls “radical” to the performative venture of Rousseau, to personally stand for one’s writings, with 78 79 80 81 82 83 84

Israel 2001, p. 274. Cf. den Boer 2007, p. 108f. Cf. Israel 2001, pp. 185–196. Cf. Moreau 2007. Cf. Israel 2006, pp. 43–51. Jacob 2007, p. 29. Cf. Walther 2007.

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the not-so enlightened point “that the truth value of philosophical talk is inseparable from the exemplary life of the philosopher”.85 If one wishes to avoid hero worship of either kind, one can add an argument that might be only contingently absent in the critiques of Israel’s work. His person-centered approach runs counter to the spirit of Spinoza. For Spinoza, human affairs are not defined by prevailing ideas but by passions and the bodily action of the many. As mentioned, he rejects any further teleology. If Spinoza’s image of politics holds true, he could not have been the spiritus rector of an enlightenment that moves strictly towards the revolution. And if fundamental arguments against a mere history of ideas hold true, this image has remained remarkably modern. V

Realistic Approaches

In order to follow this trace, one must take seriously realistic features of Spinoza’s political theory which prepare the Marxist, Post-Modern, Radical Democratic, and Radical Enlightenment attempts at appropriation. A reading chiefly guided by political preference does not appear very promising. At the same time, the question arises as to whether or not an entirely realistic alternative would be fruitful. A simple positivism of power determining what functions and what does not would not need Spinoza. What makes his form of realistic thinking interesting is its sometimes open, sometimes indirect dialogue with normative projects and the perspective of the Ethics. His system’s layout can be best summarized in terms of modal logic. Spinoza shows anti-utopically what is not politically realizable or is impossible, anti-legitimatory which real arrangements are replaceable or not necessary, and anti-resignatively which possibilities to expand collective power to act are commonly overlooked or suppressed. At least such a profile comes about when one passes through the plausible approaches of his left-realistic reception and poses, on the other hand, the problem of an authoritarian-realistic reception. The works of Étienne Balibar are suited to the former while texts concerning Spinoza and Schmitt can illustrate the latter. Balibar is known as a student of Althusser. However, in his monographs and essays on Spinoza’s political philosophy, he only occasionally uses concepts of structuralist Marxism. His works seek intermediary positions which have nevertheless effectively synthesized debates in Spinoza scholarship in at least three cases: on the relation of individual to society, in the assessment of the multitude, and for the multitude’s relation to institutions. Balibar’s key terms 85

Lilti 2009, p. 199.

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are transindividuality, crainte des masses, and (less known) a democratization of the state apparatus. Balibar contributes to a larger debate for whose participants Spinoza promises to solve the conflict between (liberal) individualists and (communitarian or communist) thinkers of the collective in an original manner. Manfred Walther works out an important point when he argues that Isaiah Berlin’s distinction between “positive” freedom, filled by rational self-determination, and “negative”, marked by the absence of restrictions on guaranteed freedom, does not represent a real alternative. For certain, our freedom consists in cooperatively increased power to act, yet one cannot rely on individuals using their own leeway rationally. Indeed, with Spinoza political freedom and its stabilization through institutions is linked perspectivally to ethical freedom. Yet at the same time it is clear that precisely the one that wishes to be and live sui iuris in this ethical sense takes an interest in every citizen having at his disposal a legally protected freedom to pursue his own self-will which […] necessarily can be used differently than for self-liberation from the rule of the passions […]. The Polis-ideal of the comprehensively good life thus proves itself to be a philosophical dream that destroys itself in endeavoring to actualize this for everyone.86 This synopsis of the Theological-Political Treatise and Political Treatise is both objective and plausible. Yet how is this to agree with the tendency of the latter (TP) to emphasize the unity of the multitude instead of the freedom of individuals? Of importance here is Balibar’s interpretation of the various passages where Spinoza attributes one spirit and body (as it were) to politically unified individuals.87 The debate regarding how this is to be read aims to clarify the extent to which Spinoza understands individuals as independent or integrated. This especially involves the constant constraint “quasi” (Ethics) or veluti (TP) which in most cases directly qualifies the one mind of the many. The possible readings can be rendered in a simplified manner as follows: (a) In Spinoza, the state is actually an individual in the sense that he gives this term and with the limitation that the collective mind is less integrated than that of an individual human;88 (b) Spinoza can be read methodologically individualist, which is why

86 87 88

Walther 2001, p. 100. Cf. in addition to 3/2, E4 P18S; for a list, see Balibar 2005, pp. 88, 98fn306. Cf. Matheron 2003.

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he always speaks only comparatively of a mind leading the multitude;89 (c) the political individual is not the state but the multitude, which nevertheless remains undefined in its fluid multiplicity and thus only forms a unity “as it were” (quasi).90 Obviously, despite all inventiveness, the positions are divided into “collectivist” (a, c) and individualist (b) camps, and expectedly, the second choice involves liberal preference.91 Balibar circumvents the divide by reading (continuing Negri’s position) the expression una mente ducitur as the title for a movement that has no fixed subject (not even the free multitude, pace Negri): […] ‘to be guided as by only one soul’ – literally fluctuates between whole and part, between multitudo and the imperium, between the imperium and the summa potestates. In one sense, all of these terms are only one […], in another sense they do not cease dissociating themselves and even mutually opposing one another.92 Balibar also designates this movement as “the mental identity of a composed trans-individual”93 and even refers it to Spinoza’s repeated discussion of the will (ingenium) of the individual: “his insistence captures the insight that all mental processes, ‘individualized’ as they are, always already have a trans-individual dimension” – even in the case of an anti-collective “resistance to assimilation”.94 The liberal impulse would thus be integrated social-ontologically. One must certainly add that in this context individual self-determination appears rather as a limit variable. It therefore has the same status as the political forms. On the one side there is “a minimum of unrestricted individuality” on the other “a like minimum of social and political relations”.95 The multitude, the central figure of the Political Treatise, moves between the two. Balibar has also worked out here that the multitude decisively complements the early modern schema of subjects and state power: […]the political problem no longer has two terms but three. ‘Individual’ and ‘State’ are in fact abstractions […] In the final analysis each of them

89 90 91 92 93 94 95

Cf. Rice 1990. Cf. Negri 1985, p. 158ff. Cf. Balibar 2005, pp. 90, 88. Balibar 2005, p. 91f. Balibar 2005, p. 93. Balibar 2005 , p. 94. Balibar 1994, p. 36.

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serves merely to express one modality through which the power of the multitude can be realised as such.96 Contrary to Hardt, Negri, del Lucchese and others, Balibar encounters this multitude with distance, a distance he also perceives in Spinoza. A chief reason is the political situation in the Netherlands. The monarchic mob which in 1672, following French invasion, toppled the republic (run by the upper middle classes) and lynched the regents, behaves entirely according to the depreciating vocabulary used by Spinoza in the ttp and Ethics – vulgus, plebs, turba. That Spinoza, reckoning with these events, shifts to the non-negative concept of multitudo, at the same time replacing freedom with security as the goal of the state, can be understood as the indication of a problem. How can one think of a republic that would be more certain of its “basis in the people”?97 For Balibar, the possibility of a destructive discharge remains open in the answer. He situates Spinoza’s multitude between the traditional contempt for the masses and scenarios of transgression in modern mass psychology. The title crainte des masses, however, sheds an ambivalent light on both. According to Balibar, Spinoza’s masses are defined by instilling fear on the one hand and being held in fear on the other. This is partially shown by the way Spinoza uses and gives new meaning to the saying of Tacitus: terret vulgus, nisi metuat or terrere nisi paveant. Whereas he had confirmed in the Ethics that the populace is awful when it does not fear (E4 P54S), he no longer wishes this thought be considered as an objection to broadened participation in the TP. Nature is common to all men, it is only by reason of their position that those higher up are arrogant and those lower judge falsely and without measure (7/27). At other places, he describes the nobles’ fear of the multitude and praises situations where this is avoided (cf. 8/5–6). In these instances, Spinoza shows himself to be even more optimistic than Balibar allows. Neither the being-held-in-fear of the multitude nor others’ fear of them appear as necessary here. His aim seems to be, without a mass psychology that goes beyond the general affect-economy, to valorize the lower classes of society who often form the defining section of the “people” without expecting salvation from them. The multitude, understood in this way, can be defined as a third irreducible demarcation of political order: “According to Spinoza, the ‘unified power of all’ as limit case of political power threatens every form of particular rule, as it were, from within and from without”.98

96 97 98

Balibar 1998, p. 69. Balibar 1998, pp. 51–56 (56). Walther 1994, p. 435.

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As described, many see in this potentiality “the indissoluble democratic foundation of every form of governance”.99 Balibar’s third realistic intervention refers to the problem of whether democracy can at all assume an institutional form. The Political Treatise does not only break off at the point relevant to this question, but, before doing so, severely narrows the democratically active multitude – in line with tradition, foreigners, delinquents, attendants, and women are excluded while age and income barriers are also considered. The “completely absolute state” (omnino absolutum imperium) (10/1) opposed to monarchies and aristocracies is thus immediately restricted.100 One can see a mistake on behalf of Spinoza, who here gives up what is elsewhere his openness to the multitude and misses the historical moment when they actually arrive on the political stage.101 But one can also identify a systematic reason for this, which can be seen following arguments of Matheron: […] the very notion of the democratic state, the imperium democraticum, presents a paradox. If a democracy requires a state (or perhaps we are compelled to say at this point, a state apparatus) at all, it is because one part of the society exercises power against another. A rational community, at least for so long as its members live under the guidance of reason and seek to increase their own power of thought and action, would necessarily be a democracy without a state.102 Because Spinoza excludes the latter in politics, the situation of group domination is produced and the democratic imperium seems hardly describable. Balibar shares this view.103 However, he develops a realistic perspective, a framework within which even the (limited) democratic state may become thinkable: the simultaneous increase of the power of the multitude and of state facilities. In this case, Spinoza pursues a double goal: On the one hand, [...] to constitute what we would call a ‘state apparatus’ as the true locus of political power. According to their respective modalities, each regime tends to identify its sovereign with the f­ unctional unity of this apparatus. On the other hand, [...] to subject this apparatus to a process of ‘democratisation’.104 99 100 101 102 103 104

Walther 1994, p. 435. Cf. the contribution of Keil in this volume. Montag 1999, pp. 82–85. Montag 1999, p. 85. Balibar 1998, p. 59f. Balibar 1998, p. 74f.

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If one adds that the amount of individual freedom is also increasable, the result would be the idea, prominent in the 20th century, that the liberal legal state, the welfare state, and democratic participation do not have to confine one another, but can instead grow together.105 Only one should have in view, with Spinoza, the concrete, sometimes destructively used leeway of individuals, the self-interests of apparatuses of rule and administration, and the multitude’s irregular expressions of power. The open question, to be posed anew in a situation unknown to Spinoza, is how the apparatus of liberal welfare states is capable of including such expressions. The answer may be unsettling. Because Spinoza’s analysis is not tied normatively to desirable developments, it should cover even the worst case: If, for example, due to large scale economic immiseration, the majority of people have little hope in and nothing to fear of the state, and if then, for example, a charismatic character with powerful political organization appears, who shows not only economic promise, but also national and religious promise, and if he establishes identity against a radically defined enemy, then the majority of men behave as they did in the times of National Socialism.106 It would be fatal if prominent thinkers of this movement could call upon Spinoza. Carl Schmitt had a positive reception of Spinoza before discovering him at the end of the 1930s as a major liberal, Jewish enemy. The multitude, supporting and threatening all institutions, experiences in “Dictatorship” (1921) already a sort of nationalist interpretation: “The people, the nation, the primal force of any state, always constituts new bodies”.107 And the “Concept of the Political” (third edition from 1933) ascribes to such unities the right of everything which seems necessary to those belonging to them in order to “preserve their own being” – an explicit translation of Spinoza’s in suo essere perseverare.108 What of Spinoza’s text opposes this appropriation? An important difference is that Schmitt’s model of a substantial political unity clashes with the combination of liberalism and democracy made thinkable in Spinoza.109 For Spinoza, as has been shown, the multitude and its institutions can never entirely cancel the self-will of individuals. Crucial, however, is Spinoza’s dismantling of what 105 106 107 108 109

Cf. for example, Luhmann 1981. Walther 1994, p. 429. Schmitt 2014, p. 123. Citation in Walther 1994, p. 428. Walther 1994, pp. 433–436.

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Schmitt calls “political theology”.110 One who, like both authors, refuses to subordinate the cooperation and opposition of political forces to “transcendent” norms and values, also has no grounds to distinguish one of these forces as decisive. Schmitt attempts precisely this under terms such as people, sovereign, political unity, while Spinoza holds the relations of power open. Guido Kreis, who has elaborated these thoughts, summarizes (from Spinoza’s perspective): State laws are organizational guidelines for individuals’ regions of power in balance with the power of everyone […] Their normative-prescriptive character is completely lost. In such a theory, the basis of a constitution in an ontological decision has lost (against Schmitt) all relevance.111 Spinoza’s anti-hierarchical, synergetic ontology may be suited to all sorts of political possibilities, but not for praising homogenous nation-bodies and authoritative leadership. VI

Possible Connections to the Radical Tradition

The discussion of interpretative contexts is now complete. The conclusion seems almost innocuous. The political Spinoza can be best read as a (leading) thinker of relations known today as legally established freedom of action, citizen-oriented state administration, and democratic mobilization. On the last point he remains open to rule-breaking by the many and the lower classes, but not to ends which endanger freedom. This is conspicuously unsuited to the wild traditions that Spinoza is presently placed in. The lines of Machiavelli-Spinoza-Marx and its alternative Machiavelli-Spinoza-Nietzsche promise something more than merely a moderate (left) liberalism. At the same time, these connections appear more fitting than others, for example to the work of Honneth or Luhmann. In concluding, I wish to again go into the arguments speaking for and against the radical associations of Spinoza in order to clarify what in his work goes beyond present-day liberalism. The more simple case is the connection to Nietzsche, to this point only touched upon. One can observe with Nietzsche, Spinoza, and Machiavelli respectively the attempt to acknowledge a power or power to act whose increase is forbidden by the ruling (Christian) morality. This makes them dangerous and suspect thinkers and thus establishes an extraordinary status common to 110 Walther 1994, p. 436f. 111 Kreis 2006, p. 173.

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them. However, Spinoza stands out here in a manner similar to the comparison with Schmitt. He renounces the glorification of an heroic superior power (and its destructive potential) because he is only interested in the total relation of forces. Unlike Machiavelli, he does not place the ruthless autocrat (Il principe) or the virtuous, belligerently expanding people (Discorsi) as the focal point. Unlike Nietzsche, he does not equate life with excess and overpowering. And he certainly does not dream, like Nietzsche, of the annihilation of nonvital groups. One can therefore accentuate: In the end, what is left out in the […] construction of a homogenous Spinoza-Nietzsche line is nothing less than the ‘difference’ between societal cooperation and the projection of mass annihilation.112 There nevertheless remains a possible connection. It is ethically founded in the narrower sense, namely in attempts of both Spinoza and Nietzsche to think a good life without debt, fear of punishment, remorse, and resentment. Politically this means that for every situation in which men are held together by fear or aggression, functional equivalents come into view which instead rest upon hope or even lust for increased power to act (5/6). Deleuzian interpretations could be further linked here (and perhaps even avoid the heroization of Nietzsche). Marxists could appeal to this approach with at least the same amount of justification and precisely in the sense of increasing cooperative capacity. How one should additionally draw the line from Machiavelli and Spinoza up to Marx is more difficult to establish. A side consideration concerns the possible perpetuation of atomist-materialist motives in all three authors (see above, Section 2). It may be more important that they all see the masses as the subject of politics and (if one considers the Machiavelli of the Discorsi) do not justify any deciding power assumed apart from or against the masses. Even representative institutions remain exposed to attacks from the actual multitude which one cannot object to so long as it does not harm itself. The early, “radical democratic” Marx had adopted ideas of Machiavelli and Spinoza113 and his objections to the “bourgeois”, state-domesticated democracy remained.114 The three are also linked by their politically motivated critique of religion,115 even if Marx did not hope for much in this regard after his critique of Bruno Bauer. Beyond this, however, it is difficult to follow a line. While with Spinoza the 112 113 114 115

Rehmann 2004, p. 59 (with evidence). Abensour 1997, pp. 21, 59f. See above, footnote 26. Abensour 1997, p. 22.

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c­ ooperative power to act is relevant for Marx, with Machiavelli it is social division and conflict. Common to all (including Nietzsche) is nevertheless an approach that one could name “dedicated anti-normative”. While none of them are reluctant to make practical judgments – on points such as the unification of Italy and the freedom of the lower classes, the harmfulness of churches and the superiority of democracy, the exploitation of wage labor and the liberation of productive forces – they firmly refrain from deducing how co-existence ought to be constituted in principle. Instead of this, they investigate the conditions that determine action for the issues in question – freedom, stability, or exploitation. The sense of this approach becomes increasingly clearer on the way from Machiavelli to Marx (and Nietzsche). It is not simply a matter of scientific value-­freedom à la Weber, but rather a lack of respect for institutions of interpretation. For this reason, if nothing else, Spinoza attracted a large amount of hatred. An ironic side motive is that he chose to mean well without distinction. Among the anti-normative authors, he has the most polyperspective and polyarchic position. He does not only show that differing power groups shape the political fabric, but he displays analytical solidarity towards all of these groups. Because their power to act can reciprocally increase rather than reciprocally constrain, it is important to see their interests together. This is the systematic reason of the multiplicity inherent to the word multitudo. And it explains why the Political Treatise, itself skeptical and conservative, gave rise to revolutionary optimism. Whether or not this optimism is justified in the face of deep-lying conflicts of interest cannot be clarified by Spinoza’s Treatise. The text is nevertheless arranged so open-endedly that it seems offered to use for the radical Enlightenment of contemporary realities. Whether the theme is the dynamic of passions in emotional capitalism, the collective production of privately appropriated knowledge, or rebellions of technocratically governed populations, the Political Treatise and Spinoza’s related texts point to problems which would have remained hidden without them. Bibliography Abensour, Miguel (1997): La démocratie contre l’État. Marx et le moment machiavelien. Paris. Balibar, Étienne (1994): Spinoza, the Anti-Orwell (1989). In: Id.: Masses, classes, ideas. Studies on politics and philosophy before and after Marx, transl. James Swenson. New York, pp. 3–37. Balibar, Étienne (1998): Spinoza and politics, transl. P. Snowdon. London, New York.

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Balibar, Étienne (2005): “Potentia multitudinis quae una veluti mente ducitir”. Spinoza on the Body Politic (2001). In: Current Continental Theory and Modern Philosophy, transl. Stephen H. Daniel. Evanston, Ill., pp. 70–99. Blom, Hans W. (1985): Politics, Virtue and Political Science: An Interpretation of Spinoza’s Political Philosophy. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 209–230. Celikates, Robin (2010): Republikanismus zwischen Politik und Recht. In: Zeitschrift für philosophische Forschung 64, pp. 111–128. Celikates, Robin (2006): Demokratie als Lebensform. Spinozas Kritik des Liberalismus. In: Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Über die Aktualität einer Denkfigur Spinozas. Heidelberg, pp. 43–65. Citton, Yves/Lordon, Frédéric (2008): Un devenir spinoziste des sciences sociales? In: Id. (ed.): Spinoza et les sciences sociales. De la puissance de la multitude à l’économie des affects. Paris, pp. 15–44. Del Lucchese, Filippo (2009): Conflict, Power, and Multitude in Machiavelli and Spinoza. Tumult and Indignation. London, New York. Deleuze, Gilles (1988): Spinoza. Practical philosophy (1981), transl. Robert Hurley. San Francisco. Deleuze, Gilles (1990): Expressionism in philosophy. Spinoza (1968), transl. Martin Joughin. New York. (1968). Deleuze, Gilles and Félix Guattari (1987): A Thousand Plateaus. Capitalism and Schizophrenia, transl. Brian Massumi. Minneapolis. Den Boer, Pim (2007): Le dictionnaire libertin d’Adrian Koerbagh. In: Secrétan, Catherine et al. (eds.): Qu’est-ce-que les Lumières »radicales«? Libertinage, athéisme et spinozisme dans le tournant philosophique de l’âge classique. Paris, pp. 104–129. Den Uyl, Douglas (1987): Passion, State, and Progress. Spinoza and Mandeville on the Nature of Human Association. In: Journal of the History of Philosophy 25, pp. 369–395. Hindrichs, Gunnar (2006): Die Macht der Menge. Der Grundgedanke in Spinozas politischer Philosophie. In: Id. (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Heidelberg, pp. 13–40. Israel, Jonathan (2001): Radical Enlightenment. Philosophy and the Making of Modernity 1650–1750. Oxford et al. Israel, Jonathan (2006): Enlightenment Contested. Philosophy, Modernity, and the Emancipation of Man 1670–1752. Oxford et al. Jacob, Margaret C. (2006): The Radical Enlightenment. Pantheists, Freemasons and Republicans. 2. edition Lafayette. Jacob, Margaret C. (2007): Les Lumières radicales. In: Secrétan, Catherine et al. (eds.): Qu’est-ce-que les Lumières »radicales«? Paris, pp. 29–35. Kreis, Guido (2006): Politische Ontologie und politische Theologie. Spinoza als Herausforderung von Carl Schmitt. In: Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Heidelberg, pp. 141–180.

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Lilti, Antoine (2009): Comment écrit-on l’histoire intellectuelle des Lumières? Spinozisme, radicalisme et philosophie. In: Annales d’histoire sociale 70, pp. 171–206. Lordon, Frédéric (2014): Willing Slaves of Capital. Spinoza and Marx on Desire, transl. Gabriel Ash. London et al. Luhmann, Niklas (1981): Politische Theorie im Wohlfahrtsstaat. München. Macherey, Pierre (1977): Hegel ou Spinoza. Paris. Machiavelli, Niccolò (1996): Il Principe. Torino. Machiavelli, Niccolò (2000): Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio. Torino. Marchart, Oliver (2010): Die politische Differenz. Zum Denken des Politischen bei Nancy, Lefort, Badiou, Laclau und Agamben. Berlin. Marx, Karl (2010): Contribution to the Critique of Hegel’s Philosophy of Right. In: Marx and Engles Collected Works Vol. 3. transl. Clemens Dutt. Marx, Karl (1970): Critique of Hegel’s “Philosophy of Right”, transl. Annette Jolin. Cambridge. Matheron, Alexandre (1969): Individu et communauté chez Spinoza. Paris. Matheron, Alexandre (1985): La fonction théorique de la démocratie chez Spinoza. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 259–273. Matheron, Alexandre (2003): L’État, selon Spinoza, est-il un individu au sens de Spinoza? In: Czelinski, Michael et al. (eds.): Transformation der Metaphysik in der Moderne. Zur Gegenwärtigkeit der theoretischen und praktischen Philosophie Spinozas. Manfred Walther zum 65. Geburtstag. Würzburg, pp. 127–145. Matheron, Alexandre (2011): L’indignation et le conatus de l’Etat spinoziste (1994). In: Id. (ed.): Études sur Spinoza et les philosophies de l’âge classique. Paris, pp. 219–229. Montag, Warren (1999): Bodies, Masses, Power. Spinoza and His Contemporaries. London, New York. Moreau, Pierre-François (1994): Spinoza. Versuch über die Anstößigkeit seines Denkens (1975), transl. Rolf Löper. Frankfurt a. M. Moreau, Pierre-François (2007): Spinoza est-il spinoziste? In: Secrétan, Catherine (ed.): Qu’est-ce-que les Lumières »radicales«? Paris, pp. 289–297. Morfino, Vittorio (2010): Le temps de la multitude. Paris. Negri, Antonio (1981): L’anomalia selvaggia. Saggio su potere e potenza in Baruch Spinoza. Milano. Negri, Antonio (1985): Reliqua desiderantur – Congettura per una definizione del concetto di democrazia nell’ultimo Spinoza. In: Studia Spinozana 1, pp. 153–181. Negri, Antonio (2004): The Political Treatise, or, the Foundation of Modern Democracy (French orig. 1986). In: Id., Subversive Spinoza. (Un)Contemporary Variations, ed. Timothy S. Murphy. Manchester, pp. 9–27. Negri, Antonio (2010): Spinoza. Une sociologie des affects. In: Id.: Spinoza et nous. Paris, pp. 123–141. Negri, Antonio/Hardt, Michael (2001): Empire. Cambridge/Mass.

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Negri, Antonio/Hardt, Michael (2004): Multitude. War and Democracy in the Age of Empire. New York. Negri, Antonio/Hardt, Michael (2009): Commonwealth. Cambridge/Mass. Oittinen, Vesa (1994): Spinozistische Dialektik. Die Spinoza-Lektüre des französischen Struktualismus und Poststrukturalismus. Frankfurt am Main et al. Pfauwadel, Aurélie/Sévérac, Pascal (2008): Connaissance du politique par les gouffres. Spinoza et Foucault. In: Citton, Yves/Lordon, Frédéric (eds.): Spinoza et les sciences sociales. Paris, pp. 189–211. Rehmann, Jan (2004): Postmoderner Links-Nietzscheanismus. Deleuze und Foucault. Eine Dekonstruktion. Hamburg. Reitter, Karl (2011): Prozesse der Befreiung. Marx, Spinoza und die Bedingungen eines freien Gemeinwesens. Münster. Reitz, Tilman (2005): Die Macht der freien Menge. Literatur zum politischen Spinoza. In: Philosophische Rundschau 52, pp. 144–156. Rice, Lee (1990): Individual and Community in Spinoza’s Social Psychology. In: Curley, Edwin/Moreau, Pierre François (eds.): Spinoza. Issues and Directions. The Proceedings of the Chicago Spinoza Conference. Leiden et al., pp. 271–285. Saar, Martin (2006): Politik der Multitude. Zeitgenössische politisch-philosophische Anschlüsse an Spinoza. In: Hindrichs, Gunnar (ed.): Die Macht der Menge. Heidelberg, pp. 181–202. Saar, Martin (2009): Politik der Natur? Spinozas Begriff der Regierung. In: Deutsche Zeitschrift für Philosophie 57, pp. 433–447. Saar, Martin (2011): Rezension von: del Lucchese, Power and Multitude in Machiavelli and Spinoza. In: European Journal of Philosophy 19, pp. 647–654. Saar, Martin (2013): Die Immanenz der Macht. Politische Theorie nach Spinoza. Berlin. Schmitt, Carl (2014): Dictatorship. From the origin of the modern concept of sovereignty to proletarian class struggle (orig. German 1921). Cambridge et al. Spector, Céline (2007): Le spinozisme politique aujourd’hui. Toni Negri, Étienne Balibar […]. In: Esprit 76, pp. 27–45. Walther, Manfred (1994): Carl Schmitt contra Baruch Spinoza oder Vom Ende der politischen Theologie. In: Delf, Hanna et al. (eds.): Spinoza in der europäischen Geistesgeschichte. Berlin, pp. 422–441. Walther, Manfred (2001): Politische und ethische Freiheit oder Spinozas Dialektik der Freiheit. In: Senn, Marcel/Walther, Manfred (eds.): Ethik, Recht und Politik bei Spinoza. Zürich, pp. 89–103. Walther, Manfred (2007): Spinoza and Radical Enlightenment. Some Remarks on Three of Jonathan Israel’s Claims. In: Secrétan, Catherine (ed.): Qu’est-ce-que les Lumières »radicales«? Paris, pp. 299–308.

Index of Names Note: The authors of the secondary literature are registered only if they are mentioned in the main text or if they are verbally quoted - either in the main text or in the notes. Adams, John 137n54 Althusser, Louis 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 160, 169 Aquinas, Thomas 58 Arendt, Hannah 43, 149 Aristotle 45, 123n1, 128n18, 130 Balibar, Étienne 152, 153, 169–173 Bartuschat, Wolfgang 1–10, 12n3, 103–122, 126n9, 133n33, 139n65, 139n68, 139n69, 142n82, 144n93, 144n99 Battisti, Giuseppa 126n10, 127n14, 133 Bauer, Bruno 176 Berlin, Isaiah 170 Böckerstette, Heinrich 143n89, 143n90, 143n91 Blom, Hans 151 Bodin, Jean 44, 69, 97n7 Den Boer, Pim 168 Boulainvilliers, Henri Come de 164 Buchanan, James 101n13 Burke, Edund 94n4 Campagna, Norbert 138 Celikates, Robert 163n59 Cheneval, Francis 60, 63 Cicero 82 Citton, Yves 161n51 De Lahontan, Louis-Armand 167 Deleuze, Gilles 152, 160–162, 164, 176 Durkheim, Émile 149 Fletcher, Andrew 86n11 Foucault, Michel 162, 164 Geismann, Georg 144n93, 144n95, 144n98 Gentili, Alberico 86n11 Grotius, Hugo 60 Grunert, Frank 140n70 Guattari, Félix 161 Habermas, Jürgen 141n77, 144n97, 144n100 Hannibal 83

Hardt, Michael 149, 152, 155, 157, 161, 172 Harrington, James 86n10, 86n11 Heerich, Thomas 88 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm fridrich 40, 43, 154n23 Heller, Hermann 42, 128n19 Hobbes, Thomas 21, 22, 33, 52, 53n41, 58, 59n14, 71n8, 75, 76, 78, 79n23, 79n25, 82, 84, 85n8, 108n4, 150, 153, 154, 157, 164, 167 Honneth, Axel 175 Humboldt, Wilhelm von 137n59, 139 Hume, David 166 Israel, Jonathan 152, 165–168, 169 Jacob, Margaret 165, 166, 168 Jefferson, Thomas 123n1, 133n34, 137n54 Jellinek, Georg 38, 136 Jesus 165 Kant, Immanuel 3, 63, 65, 75n16, 130, 138 Kelsen, Hans 123n1, 136, 137n51 Kersting, Wolfgang 79n23 Koerbagh, Adriaan 168 Koerbagh, Johannes 168 Kreis, Gudo 175 Lauterpacht, Hersch 63 Lefort, Claude 162 Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm 3 Lilti, Antoine 168, 169n85 Livius, Titus 83n6, 162 Locke, John 133n34, 157, 166 Lordon, Frédéric 156, 157n33, 158, 159, 161n51 del Lucchese, Filippo 163, 164, 172 Luhmann, Niklas 175 Macherey, Pierre 153 Machiavelli, Niccolò 52, 85–86, 118, 137n52, 142, 143, 149, 151–153, 162, 163, 175–177 Madison, James 123n1, 133, 134, 137n54 Mandeville 151n12

182 Marx, Karl /Marxists 149, 150, 152–154, 156–161, 169, 175–177 Matheron, Alexandre 87, 128, 142, 154, 164, 173 Menzel, Adolf 34n12, 58, 61–63 Mill, John Stuart 137 Mohammed 165 Montag, Warren 153, 154n20, 157, 158n38, 173n102 Montesquieu, Charles de Secondat Baron de 101, 134, 137 Moore, Thomas 12n2 Moreau, Pierre-François 150n7, 153, 168 Morfino, Vittorio 153, 160 Moses 165 Murphy, Cornelius 62 Negri, Antonio 130n25, 149, 152, 155–157, 159n42, 159n43, 161, 171, 172 Nietzsche, Friedrich 149, 159, 160, 164, 175–177 Nussbaum, Arthur 62 Paul IV 86n11 Pettit, Philip 150n6 Plato 19, 123n1, 142 Pocock, J.G.A. 151 Preuss, Hugo 42 Ramond, Charles 85n9, 87, 88n13, 89 Rawls, John 78 Rehmann, Jan 176n112 Reitter, Karl 150n8, 156

Index of Names Robespierre, Maximilian de 137 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 42n16, 53n41, 167, 168 Saar, Martin 157n34, 157n35, 160n46, 164, 165 Schmidt, Manfred G. 141n71 Schmitt, Carl 149, 150, 152, 169, 174–176 Scholastics (Late) 21, 33 Seneca 42n13, 75n17 Sieyès, Emmanuel Joseph 40n6, 51n37 Simmel, Georg 149 Skinner, Quentin 150n6 Socrates 52n39 Sophists 19 Steinberg, Justin 133n31 Stoa 21 Suárez, Francisco 60 Tarde, Gabriel 149 Vaughan, Charles Edwyn 62n23 Verdroß, Alfred 63, 64 de Vitoria, Francisco 60 Voltaire 166 de Vries, Theun 132 Walther, Manfred 11–16, 93–101, 128n17, 135, 136, 141, 142n81, 144n101, 168, 170, 172n98, 173n99, 174n106, 174n108, 175n110 Walz, Gustav Adolf 58, 62 Weber, Max 125, 177 de Witt, Cornelis 82n2, 94n4 de Witt, Johann 82n2, 94n4, 113, 119 Wolff, Christian 140